#It makes me want to clear my throat and cough

[bloggerspam]

Steph's new year resolution is to spend actual time with Val.

First step: Val's phone number.

Asking Jason will be a bust. He's Val's boss, a good one, so Steph won't even bother asking when she knows he won't divulge employee information like that.

That leaves asking Val herself, or passing a note along with Jason.

She trusts Jason, she does. He's leagues better than if Steph were to ask Dick, or even Tim.

She'd rather get made fun of, in that loving way Jason does, than be smothered and inundated with questions and screams the way Dick and Tim do.

But Jason is a good boss, and Steph's grown up with too many Bats to know what the normal boundary is between employee and employer.

So, obviously, she stalks Jason at work in her free time to see if Val works any of those shifts to ask her herself.

She hits money on the third day.

"Val!" Steph saunters over with a wide smile. "I haven't seen you since Riddler took you away."

"Hey, Steph." Val looks so cute when she's flustered, "Yeah, sorry about that."

Val's working on a car, in that delicious coverall grease monkey look, doing a simple oil change. Steph perches herself delicately on the side, so as to not be in the way.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Steph pouts, "It's dangerous to go towards the Rogues, you know."

"Oh, well…" Val laughs nervously, smudging more grease when she rubs at the back of her neck "Y'know, Amity Parkers are just built different I guess."

"I have no doubt that you…handled yourself just fine," Steph placates, leaning forward a bit to run a finger down Val's well muscled biceps, "but I would feel so much better if you played by Gotham rules…"

Val does that nervous little laugh again, breathy, and gods does Steph want to ruin her.

"I can try," Val bites her lip, "But with friends like Danny…"

Steph giggles. "He's a trouble magnet huh?"

"You have no idea." Val smiles helplessly, and they get caught like that for a long moment.

Val's eyes skip back and forth between hers, even flicking to Steph's lips for a scant second, making Steph's heart skip a million beats.

But then Val coughs, breaking eye contact to reach under the hood to do…something. Steph's too busy mourning the death of a moment to really figure it out.

But Steph is nothing if not persistent.

"So, hey, speaking of friends…" Steph clears her throat, "You go to Gotham U, right?"

"Yeah," Val confirms, flicking a glance over at her as she shuts the car hood, "Early education major."

Steph pauses. Because what are the chances? "No way."

Val hunches her shoulders up, "I know, doesn't really suit me but—"

"No!" Steph frantically interrupts, "That's not what I meant, it's just, I'm a human development major!"

Val stares at her, uncomprehending, which is fair. Steph smiles helplessly as she explains, "I want to be an special education teacher, for teens with learning disabilities."

Val blinks. "…How have we not seen each other on campus?"

"I have a night job, so I take a lot of my classes online." Steph explains, "The ones I do have to go in person for are late afternoon classes, usually Wednesdays."

"Ah." Val nods in understanding, "I take mostly morning classes, and afternoon shifts here at the shop."

"Like ships in the night," Steph smiles ruefully, "Or bikes in the afternoon, I guess."

Val laughs, voice a yummy timbre that brings a little shiver down her spine. There's a rasp to her, and her accent makes everything sound so much nicer.

"That means this will work out." Steph gets them back on track, feeling all sorts of nervous.

"What will?" Val wipes her hands on a rag, tossing it over her shoulder as she leans on the car next to her.

"I wanted to see if you wanted to study together some time," Steph bats her eyelashes, "With my schedule being the way it is, it's kind of hard for me to make friends…"

"S-sure, yeah, sounds great." Val stutters, patting her pockets for her phone, only to realize she's in her coveralls. "Ah…"

"Just dictate it to me, and I'll text you so you'll have mine." Steph giggles, pulling out her phone and creating the new contact as Val gives her the info.

"And hey, maybe we could spar some too," Steph eyes Val's biceps, remembering the little brawl she and Danny had and licking her lips, "It's one of my new years resolutions to keep fit."

"I'm not an easy opponent y'know." Val smirks, looking Steph up and down and sparking shivers with her gaze.

"Trust me," Steph mutters as she sends of a winky face text, "I know."

(Val, without Steph's knowledge, doesn't realize it's flirting flirting.

She just thinks it's Steph's personality, being flirty with the winky face.

Sam bangs her head on her desk when Val texts her so.)

===

Danny is visiting on Valentines Day, in protest to the holiday itself.

Danny's always kind of hated holidays in general, now that Val thinks about it.

Tucker says it's leftover trauma from the school bullying, Sam says it's because his parents are assholes about them. Val just thinks Danny hates capitalism.

It could be all of the above, honestly.

The point is, it's Valentine's Day and Danny has just texted her that he's on his way to Gotham to hang out with her, and Val's not sure if this means Jay's done something wrong or not.

Val has been talking to her friends on almost a daily basis, but Danny's been tight-lipped about his friendship with Jay.

After Christmas Break, after the phone number exchange, Team "Get that D in Danny" thought it was a done deal.

Jay was a straight forward kind of guy, and Danny's never been shy about flirting.

Surely, something should have happened, right?

But Val wasn't really present when Danny and Sam were sort of dating, and Val was in the relationship with Danny, so she doesn't actually know how Danny is when he's dating someone.

She's been taking her cues from Tucker, who says that Danny isn't really the "my girlfriend/boyfriend" type. Danny's always referred to Sam and Val, in their respective relationships, by their names.

But then again, everyone in Amity Park knew each other, and ghosts hardly ever care about such mortal statuses. (Ignoring Johnny and Kitty, whose whole shtick is their relationship. That's a whole different can of worms.)

The point is, Val is suffering. Team "Get that D in Danny" is suffering.

And she needs to know if she has to beat up her boss for Danny or not.

Jay's been Fort Knox about the whole thing too, and it's getting irritating.

"Danny's coming to pick me up." Val finally says at the end of her shift, glaring up at her boss. "What did you do?"

Jay, wide eyed and covered in grease, drops the washer fluid in his hands on his (thankfully) steel-toed boot.

"Danny's what—" Jay lunges for his jacket, draped over his workstation, frantically pulling up his phone and— "I gotta go."

She then watches her boss, resident Crime Lord, Billionaire baby Jason Peters Todd-Wayne, book it to the back rooms.

What the fuck?

Ten minutes later, Jay comes back out, freshly showered and in clean, fitted clothes. He's even got a red rose from…somewhere.

Val reiterates: What the fuck?

"Danny hates red roses." Val says, confusion laced through her entire fucking being. They look too much like blood blossoms for any of the Amity Parkers to have any sort of affection for the flower. "He doesn't like red flowers in general."

Jay immediately tosses it into a nearby oil catch tray, looking like he might even set it on fire, if he could just find a match…

"Okay, seriously," Val puts her hands on her hips, "What the fuck is going on? Was that an apology rose?"

"What?" Jay whips his head towards her, "No!"

"Gods," Val throws her hands up in exasperation, "Are y'all dating or what? Danny's been weirdly adamant y'all are just hangin' out but I see you in here, moonin' and what not."

Her accent is getting worse in her agitation and she really hates it, which turns into a vicious cycle.

"We're not dating." Jay finally admits, sitting heavily down on one of the stools by his workstation. "But I am wooing him."

There's a long beat of silence.

"Pardon?" Val's voice is flat, disbelieving. "You're what?"

"Wooing." Jason juts his chin out, "We've done a couple of face time hang outs, streamed movies together and stuff. But it just never seemed the right time to ask him for a visit, or for me to go visit him."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Val tries to soften her voice. Red Hood, resident crime lord and bad ass, is a romantic. Huh.

"I wanted to ask him in person." Jay mumbles, "Important stuff's for in person conversations."

"In this day and age?" Val asks unthinkingly. "I doubt Danny would care."

They both know he'd probably say yes.

"Yeah, but Danny's been…he's been looking into schools to transfer to," Jay looks down at his hands, "Didn't want to influence the choices."

Danny had come out to this parents about Phantom just last month. It was a development everyone was not only extremely thankful for, but still getting used to.

The Fentons, as expected, were fully supportive. They turned a dime, burned their research metaphorically and literally to 'start over from an unbigoted perspective.'

Jazz has been thoroughly enjoying the family therapy sessions.

Schedules were created, to lessen Danny's load, and better safety locks were made to mitigate the necessity of those patrols in the first place.

Overall, Danny's been sleeping more, less stressed, and happy as a clam, if a little embarrassed by his parent's smothering love and support.

Val had thought that maybe Jay was a big part of that too, romantically speaking. Clearly, she was only half right.

"Danny loves Gotham." Val starts, carefully picking her words. Because it's true, he loves it more than she does. "He likes how weird and crazy it is, and Gotham U's engineering program is one of the best in the nation."

It would have to be, with how often things need to be reconstructed around here.

"The pizza's great too," Danny's voice suddenly cuts in from behind her, "Not to mention the company."

Val twirls around, hearing the clatter of Jay jumping up suddenly and banging his hip on his worktable with a pained hiss.

"How long have you be standing there?" Jay squeaks as he rubs his hip, face burning.

"Not long, since Val said I love Gotham. Which I do." Danny tilts his head with a confused smile. "Why? Gossiping about me?"

"We were talking about your choices in transfer." Val quickly covers, as much fun as it would be to just call both of them out, Val's not that mean. "Didn't want to accidentally influence the choice or anythin', y'know."

"Last time I checked you were looking into Star City, right?" Jay quickly adds, shooting Val a grateful look.

"Yep." Danny grins, popping the 'p' obnoxiously, "They've got a pretty comprehensive scholarship, but it's about the same as Gotham's, and honestly, Gotham's in my top two choices—"

"Gotham's a top choice?" Jay cuts in, confused but sounding a little…hopeful, "Nobody ever…I mean, even I know Gotham's crazy…"

"Gotham's a lot like Amity Park," Danny shrugs, before looking away with alarmingly red ears, "Just bigger, more goth. Plus, y'know, you and Val are here…not to mention the rogues here are way more fun than Amity's ghostly menagerie…"

"Are you sure you don't mean the vigilantes?" Val smirks, sensing an opportunity. "Or maybe a certain vigilante?"

"Mmm…nope." Danny feigns thinking hard about it. "I definitely meant the rogues."

"Uh huh…" Val drags out, "Nothing at all to do with your third place hall pass pick."

"Hall pass pick?" Hook, line, and sinker. Jay tilts his head. "What's that?"

"It's a list of celebrities monogamous couples will allow their significant other to sleep with and not count as cheating." Val innocently explains, gleefully watching Danny squirm. "It was mostly a joke, but me and Danny had one when we were dating."

"And heroes and vigilantes are basically celebrities," Jay follows the line of thought, before his eyes get a little gleam to them, "Which Bat does Danny have a celeb crush on?"

"No-one!" Danny hastily answers. Val wonders what Jay would do to his siblings if Danny did have a celeb crush on them.

"Red Hood." Val smiles with all her fucking pearly whites. "Danny likes bad boys."

Danny makes a noise like a tea kettle. "Don't judge me!!!"

To Val, Jay looks like he doesn't know whether to be flattered, or concerned.

To Danny, he must look thoroughly confused.

"Listen," Danny tries to explain himself, "Have you seen those thigh holsters???"

Jay chokes. Val laughs her fucking ass off.

(The three of them get pizza afterward.

Val missed her opportunity to leave them to it, and has to sit there and watch Jason stare at Danny making porno noises at how good the pizza is.

She texts Steph about how much she hates Valentine's Day because of it.

Until, of course, Steph joins in and she hates it a little less.)

===

Easter break, and Steph is bored out of her god damn mind.

She texts Cass first, then Babs, but one's in dance practice and the other's working a shift at the library.

Naturally, she texts Val next, sending over a selfie of her pouting and sad, with an appropriately dramatic lovelorn caption.

She gets back a picture of Sam, Tucker, and Danny fighting each other on a couch, controllers in hand with a glow reflecting against their faces in a dark, but massive looking room.

"Back home in the trenches," Steph reads aloud, sighing and lovesick.

They've been texting back and forth for the past month now, and honestly? Steph considers them dating.

The problem is, even when Steph says "it's a date!" Val just…doesn't seem to get it.

Steph would call it a straight girl move, if she didn't know 100% that Val at least thinks Steph's sexy af.

Or, at least, really wants to kiss her, if the way the other girl stares at Steph's lips is anything to go by.

And Val stares a lot.

But she always pulls back with a nervous laugh, as if Steph is the one rejecting her.

It's very frustrating, but Steph has learned that Val doesn't actually have a lot of experience with girls, so she might just be…shy.

But! At least they've been on study dates, and sparring dates, and one time they even got froyo!

Steph's been trying really hard to be patient.

It's not really working.

There's another ding! It's Cass, telling her to come over to Wayne Manor. The Batkids are having a sudden movie marathon.

She has a lot of fun with her family, watching terrible horror movies and throwing popcorn at all the stupid people doing stupid things. She sends Val a selfie of her cuddling up with Cass and Damian, of Dick and Jason dumping buckets of popcorn on each other, of Tim and Duke taking god damn notes.

It's even more fun when Val sends pictures back. Of Sam sitting on Tucker and Danny laughing so hard he's fallen off the sofa. There's a selfie of Val and Sam painting the boy's nails in bright neon green color, and a selfie of the group in matching ghost themed pajamas, what looks like Wallace and Gromit playing on the big screen behind them. A picture where Danny and Tucker are snoring, cuddling each other very intimately, with Sam in the background doing a little peace sign.

Steph's buried under Tim's legs and Dick's arms now, hardly able to send a selfie of her face with the way it's covered in limbs, but she manages it.

Val sends one back, in a darkened room where Sam is watching some movie next to the sleeping boys. Val's sleepy smile and half lidded gaze warms her up from the inside.

It's a great night, all in all.

She dreams of soft kisses, warm cuddles, and B grade horror movie kiss scenes with a smile on her face, she's sure of it.

(Steph wakes up to someone rudely tearing off the blanket she was sharing with Cass and loudly announcing it's breakfast.

She throws a pillow at Damian for it, who scoffs and dodges her 'paltry attempt.' Her head hurts from all the sugar she consumed last night, and there's an ache in her back from sleeping on the floor.

Val sent her a good morning text and rumpled selfie that features a soft smile, and Tucker two steps away from spilling pancakes all over Val.

Steph eats breakfast with such a wide smile, Duke asks if she won the lottery or something.)

===

It's looking to be a very hot summer in Gotham, if April is anything to go by.

Isn't April supposed to be full of showers? They had an abrupt chill last week due to Mr. Freeze, but since then it's been hot and Val is suffering.

But Danny has come 'round to visit, and it gives her the energy she needs to get through the day so she can hang out with them over the weekend. Danny's always run cold, and Val's never been shy of siphoning off that chill in the summertime.

Val didn't have a shift today, so Danny picked her up from school and they've decided that pancakes and waffles are in order.

It's 2pm on a Thursday, but that hardly even matters.

What matters is that Danny is wrong and waffles are clearly more superior than pancakes.

"You can throw pancakes like a frisbee, what are you even saying," Danny rolls his eyes as they cut through an alley to get the Denny's, "Waffles are way too crunchy."

"I want to look inside your head and see what delusion is playing 24/7," Val shoots back, "Why would a food need to be used as a frisbee to be superior, first of all, and second of all, the texture is not crunchy."

"The inside of my head is just like any other human," Danny scoffs, "It's been tested and everything. Plus, if you can't use your food item as a frisbee in order to quell the sausage rebellion, is it even worth having as food?"

Val squints her friend for a moment, even going so far as to pause her walking. Danny, after another moment, stops with her but does not meet her eyes.

She smacks the back of his head.

"Ow! What the fuck Val! Just because I'm right!"

"No joking about tests." Val growls, waiting until Danny shows the appropriate amount of regret, before swiftly getting back on topic, "Besides. Waffles are sturdier, and the shape can still be used as a frisbee against sausage rebellions."

Danny takes a breath for the admonishment, centering himself from bad memories. He thinks on her latter statement, nodding reluctantly. "Textures still shit though."

Val groans, continuing their way through the alley, "The texture is so that syrup has places to be, syrup on pancakes just slides off—"

"Hands up!" Just in front of them, a man is brandishing a knife in one hand, with the other reaching palm up, "Give me your wallets and nobody gets hurt."

Val internally scoffs, making eye contact with a gleeful Danny. He's been involved in more Rogue incidents than Val has, and he doesn't even live here.

"Aw, c'mon man," Danny simpers, hands in his pockets and shoulders scrunching up, "Can't you see we're just poor college students just trying to get to Denny's?"

"And you and your girl can go along your merry way," The mugger rasps, "after you give me your wallets. You can take the date home."

Val and Danny simultaneously make an uck sound.

"Been there," Danny grins, ruefully.

"Done that." Val rolls her eyes.

"Got the scars and everything to prove it!" Danny chirps, showing his lichtenberg scars even though they're irrelevant.

Val smacks him upside the head again, but Danny doesn't even flinch. Stupid halfa-biology.

"Just give me the money!" The mugger loses his patience, pulling out a gun. Ugh.

"And why don't you give me a break," A modulated voice says from above, before something large drops down and breaks the mugger's arm.

"Hah! Break, that's a good one." Danny laughs.

Red Hood freezes, before groaning with that modulated voice. "Nobody tell Nightwing. I'd never live it down."

Val bites her lip, wondering if Nightwing is Dick Grayson, the asshole cop who arrested her and Danny a couple months ago. Dude was not subtle in the interrogation of his sibling's new friends, and kept riffing with Danny using puns.

Val hates the guy on that principle alone, so it won't be hard.

"Lips are sealed, Bo—ahem—ig guy." Val really has to figure out the best time to let her boss know that she knows.

"Thanks for saving us, Red Hood, sir." Danny smiles at Hood, shy-like. "I didn't think we'd see you again after…"

"That thing with Riddler?" Even through the modulator is apparent Hood is smiling. "I thought you were finding trouble on purpose, but maybe trouble just likes to find you?"

Val's gotta hand it to him, Jay's a good actor. But as someone who knows who he is? It's clear that Hood is relishing the attention. Finding out your crime lord persona is a top choice must have outweighed the confusion of a crime lord persona being a top choice.

"Either way, it's no problem. Punks shouldn't be muggin' in my territory anyway." Hood peacocks his way into a casual leaning pose, and it's funny as all hell.

"Oh!" Danny looks around, "I didn't realize we were already in Crime Alley?"

"The one Denny's in Gotham is in Crime Alley," Val sighs, "I told you this."

"I thought we established that I don't listen to you." Danny retorts, "That's why we broke up."

"We broke up because of your clear preference for dick, Danny." Val drawls.

Hood chokes.

"This is bullying," Danny jokes, ears bright red from Val no doubt embarrassing him in front of his favorite vigilante, "And you have no leg to stand on, with the way you were drooling after Kate Winslet."

"Most of your hall pass picks were men," Val reminds him, and because she's nothing if not an opportunist, "Speaking of which—-what's it like to be texting one of them almost every day?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Danny sniffs, trying to pull Val through the alley, "Why do you keep bringing up my hall pass picks anyway?"

"Everyday?" Hood's voice, even modulated, sounds jealous. He's probably wondering if Danny's been texting the other top two choices above him.

"Yeah, everyday." Val confirms, much to Danny's dismay.

"Val!" Danny hisses as Hood leans a little closer. "Shut up."

Danny's probably thinking she might embarrass him by mentioning that Red Hood is Danny's third place pick. If only he knew.

"My boss is his fourth place pick." Val grins, as Danny slumps in relief. If only he knew!

She watches intently as Hood freezes, hand going to a pocket that isn't there, almost like he wants to immediately text someone. He seems to settle for a slow drawl, "S'that so. Small world. You work for a vigilante I know or something?"

Damn good actor, but not subtle enough for someone whose looking. He's definitely warring with a bunch of different emotions, and even through the helmet she can tell.

He wants to know why his civilian identity is fourth, when his crime lord persona is third.

"O-KAY!" Danny yells, pulling her more forcefully, "That's enough of oversharing with a crime lord who doesn't know us and clearly has other things to do. Thank you again Mr. Hood, big fan, love your work, the 8 heads was inspired really—"

Val cackles all the way through the alley, watching as Hood grapples away in a daze.

When they sit down at Denny's, Danny gets a text from Jay that makes him mumble into his menu.

"Why does he want to know my top two hall pass picks? I'm not even in a relationship!"

Val tosses a jam packet at his head.

(Steph texts her afterward, asking about Val's Hall Pass picks.

Val texts her no comment.

Somehow, Jay finds out, which leads to Danny finding out.

Danny texts Steph that Kate Winslet, Amanda Seyfried, and Black Canary were her top 3.

When Steph texts All Blondes, huh? Val lunges at Danny right there in the Denny's.

They get kicked out, and are summarily banned from the establishment.)

===

Gotham is muggy in May.

Steph hates how sticky it makes her skin feel, how lethargic her body gets, and most of all, she hates how her she stupidly made her Spoiler uniform have a lower face mask.

She's definitely going to get pimples, and it's going to suck.

The bright side is that she's best friends with not just one, but two Wayne kids.

This means that she can enjoy the Wayne Manor indoor pool with the other Batkids for most of the summer day until patrol time.

It's good to have connections.

She's relaxing with Babs and Tim on the lounge chairs, and whilst normally she would join in on the watergun fight the other batboys and Cass have going on, she's just too tired.

It's been a long first week of summer, especially with that Mad Hatter case she and Cass broke two days ago.

Mad Hatter cases always gave her the heebie jeebies, considering her own blonde hair and blue eyes.

So: chilling at the pool. Val comes back next week, with a bonus Danny in tow to start the process of finding an apartment for both of them to share, and Steph's not the only one excited about it.

Jason's been over the god damn moon.

Her phone buzzes with two incoming texts, but before Steph can even reach over to grab it, a loud thump! startles all vigilantes to whip up towards the sound.

Jason has tripped over a lounge chair, ass over kettle, groaning.

Amidst the laughter, Steph gets another buzz, so she checks her phone. It's two discord messages from Val.

valerino: Phantoms dog has invaded sams pool valerino: D's really excited about it 🙄

The last text is a photo of Danny, shirtless, getting absolutely slobbered on by a glowing green dog. Holy shit. Wait a second.

stephieeee: uhm???? green dog????? stephieeee: did u send this pic to Jason too? valerino: Yeah, long story short, hes a ghost dog. Hes cool though. And what? No, why? stephieeee: cuz he just ate shit tripping on a lounge chair stephieeee: right after u sent that pic valerino: Lol danny sent a selfie i think. We're taking a break from a water fight tucker started to play with cujo stephieeee: lolllllll stephieeee: that tracks stephieeee: we had a water gun fight too stephieeee: but i sat out with the girlies stephieeee: the heat is just stephieeee: Too Much valerino: Lol danny just showed me the pic he sent. Its a thirst trap, and he didnt even know valerino sent an image

The picture of of a shirtless Danny, with abs, holding up a see through, green dog. His arm muscles glisten in the lighting as he smiles a beaming smile, teeth white and gleaming, with his face smooshed up against the dog's stretchy, pudgy little face. It's adorable and all kind of rippling muscle-y. Boy is lean, mean, and looking good in his NASA swimming trunks, even to Steph.

stephieeee: OMGGGGG stephieeee: hes actually RIPPED??? stephieeee: also i love cujo so much? he's adorable???? valerino: Hes stronger than he looks, remember? lol and yeah, cujos a real sweetheart

Steph honks out a laugh so loud it echoes even amidst the clamour of Jason being chased around for his phone. Babs hums an intrigued note, but Steph simply smiles at her and flaps a hand at where Dick has Jason in a headlock, whilst Damian grabs the phone and attempts to hack into it.

Steph decides to take a picture of the rowdy group, Jason with his really red face, Duke and Harper jeering at the photo with Dick. Damian had gotten bored once he saw it was just a picture from his so-called 'paramour.'

stephieeee: the fam is never letting him live this down stephieeee: plssssss stephieeee: Jason is so down bad its embarrraasssssiinnngggg

Satisfied, Steph decides to get up and grab some of the iced tea Alfred left for them earlier. She's taking a much deserved sip to soothe her throat when she her phone buzzes twice more.

valerino has sent an image valerino: Danny is embarrassed as all hell, his face is SO red!

It's a selfie of Val laughing with her whole body, sort of cut off as Danny scrambles to get a shirt on. He's alarmingly red, looking like he's tripped in his haste to get the Red Hood themed shirt on, but Steph can't focus on that.

She focuses on Val, wet in a bikini top and daisy dukes.

Steph chokes on her tea and falls into the pool, cup and phone and all.

At least, Steph thinks as she recovers from her almost death-by-bikini-pic fall, my phone is bat certified and waterproof.

She takes another quick look at the photo, before she dunks herself in once more, just to cool her flaming cheeks down.

Tim'll fish her out, if only to see what happened.

Until then, the water feels great.

(Val and Danny get a series of photos after, from an unknown number that claims to be Jay's brother Tim.

One of Jay and Steph red faced and commiserating with each other. They're clearly talking about something, hands gesturing at what looks like Jay's phone.

One of Steph in a simple purple bikini emerging from the pool glorious and slicking back her hair out of her face, eyes half open, looking sultry as she catches sight of the camera.

One of a shirtless Jay getting shot by multiple streams of water, one arm up and laughing and smiling, handsome and joyous.

One of Jason, toppled over a lounge chair with his hands covering his clearly red face.

One of Steph with only her eyes above the water, cheeks and neck so red you can still see them even submerged.

Val and Danny practically faint. Sam and Tucker have to write their thank you texts for them.)

===

"I might be dying." Val groans from where she's sprawled on the floor of the new apartment she and Danny are sharing for their duration of Sophomore year.

It's a nice place, for the Narrows. Big living room, two bedrooms, a nice bathroom that heats up in only a couple minutes. The kitchen isn't anything fancy, just a stove top and a microwave, but Val and Danny don't have the capability of cooking up fancy stuff anyway.

Val's stuff was packed up easy, not hard to do when a college dorm room doesn't really allow for a lot of stuff in the first place. Though she did have Tucker bring up Huntress stuff, as well as some of the packed up clothes she didn't get to bring up the first time she moved now that's she's got the room.

Danny doesn't have that many belongings, per say, He's minimalist, in that way.

But he has a lot of stuff for his workshop. Since they don't' have a third bedroom, most the living room's going to be dedicated to it. There's a big rolling table with drawers under it for storage that can be pushed to the side so Val can practice her katas, and an industrial tarp they can throw over it to use it as a dinner table if need be.

Danny, like his parents, likes to spread out whenever he's working on something.

Unlike his parents, however, he's paranoid about contamination, and always puts everything back in its place when he's done.

He's been burned too many times to not be.

Plus, Val can use his stuff to do maintenance on her hoverboard.

They like to be efficient and practical about things.

The point is, she, Danny, Tucker and Sam have spent most of the day lugging up heavy cardboard boxes and furniture that is heavy and sometimes metal.

"I said I might be dying!" Val reiterates into the silence of the now cardboard filled room.

"We heard you to the first time." Sam drawls as she walks into the living room with a cup of water from the kitchen. "I don't even know why you're whining."

"Yeah, Danny did most of the heavy lifting," Tucker chimes in as he trails in behind Sam with a box of pizza. She hands it over to Val as she sits up from her sweaty sprawl.

Val rolls her eyes, because that is inherently untrue. "It's June, it's hot, and most of us did heavy labor."

"No, no. Tucker's got a point," Danny cuts in, lugging the last box of what looks like a bunch of a tools. "I did, in fact, bring up all the furniture, and the bulk of the community stuff."

He sets it down with the rest of his workshop stuff, dusting his hands and adopting a stupid pose where he flexes his arm muscles. Val gulps down her water in disgust.

"And Val and I brought up all the clothes and bedroom stuff," Sam scoffs, "Tuck got a couple boxes of all that electronic crap."

"And none of us have halfa strength to make it easy." Val points a finger threateningly at Danny, who puts his hands up in surrender. "Hard. Labor."

They sit in a circle around the pizza and shoot the shit—making the same old banter that never gets old, making grandiose travel plans that may or may not ever leave the group chat.

About how Sam's set to intern at the Daily Planet, finally about to work with her hero Lois Lane. How she hates how shiny and modern Metropolis is. How Wes has this crazy theory that dorky, clumsy, always going to the bathroom Clark Kent is Superman. How Sam believes him 100%, but won't ever tell him because she thinks it's funny.

How Tuck has this suspicion that the Flash is affiliated with Star Labs, somehow. That the tech in there seems out of this world almost, inter-dimensional in the way ecto-tech can be, but on a different frequency. How his dorm-mate is definitely some kind of meta, maybe even a time traveler, with the way he keeps using words like crash and mode in weird ways. But he's a great roommate, so Tuck minds his business.

And then, of course, the conversation ends up to their love lives.

Sam's got this enby in one of her journalism classes that keeps talking circles around her and Sam's this close to hate fucking them about it.

Tuck's been flirting it up with the girls, per usual, but there's a girl whose been trying real hard to pick up what he's putting down, and he's not actually sure if he wants that.

That conversation goes on a tangent about asexuality and aromanticism, but it'll have to be tabled until after Tucker has time to really…research the idea.

"I'm telling you, Val," Tuck changes the subject, "Steph is definitely into you."

"All the spars? Study dates?" Danny adds in, "Hasn't she been taking you on those ice cream dates too?"

"First of all, it's froyo," Val corrects haughtily, "Second of all that's all friend stuff. I did all that stuff with you guys, and I'll be doing them with you once the new semester starts."

"Third of all," Sam continues, "You have no leg to stand on, Mr. can't play doomed tonight guys," Her impression of Danny is nasally, and horribly wrong, but it's too funny to not laugh at, "I'm gonna watch a movie with Jason on discord!"

"That's—that's different." Danny sputters.

"Dude sends you food on a weekly basis because you said you forget to eat sometimes," Tucker says reluctantly, "And sends you letters."

"Letters???" Sam says indignantly, "You didn't tell me about any letters!"

"Since when has he been sending you letters??" Val asks, grabbing Danny's collar and shaking him when he mumbles and doesn't answer them clearly.

"Since January!" Danny finally yells, grabbing her hands and pulling them off, "They're just, they're not—they're nice! He's being nice. I told him I missed getting letters, and…"

Tucker, Sam and Val all groan in unison.

"He's been wooing you for half a year and you didn't even notice??" Val shrieks, into the ceiling. The ceiling is unsympathetic, but Sam and Tucker are.

"You've basically been dating Steph for half a year and you didn't notice!" Danny's voice is high pitched, his ears are red, and he's screeching with his hands on his face as he falls back and rolls all over the ground.

"You're both useless." Sam intones, "This could be solved by texting them."

"I can't just text her." Val says hotly, at the same time Danny says "Important conversations are not for texts!"

"Gods, you're perfect for him," Val mumbles under her breath, remembering Jay's very same fucking words all those months ago.

"Relationships are all about open communication, y'all." Tucker says in a wise tone.

They all stare at him. He makes a face, shrugging. "Fair enough. Carry on being useless."

"You really think he likes me?" Danny says, in a small voice through his fingers. He's not looking at any of them, and is curled up on the floor. "You think he's been…wooing me?"

"Danny…." Sam shakes her head, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder. "The man has been trying his damnedest to make this whole thing romantic for you, hasn't he?"

"You've been having virtual breakfasts together, haven't you?" Tucker softly adds in, scooching over to pat Danny on the head.

Val rolls herself over to Danny's other side, the three of them surrounding him and patting him in some way. He reaches over, snags on Val's shirt sleeve.

"I'll text him," Danny's voice trembles, "But only if you text Steph."

Val opens her mouth to argue, but shuts it at Danny's pleading eyes. She sighs.

Tucker hands Danny his phone, and they draft about a million texts before they collectively settle. Movie and a dinner, just the two of them. Easy.

"Here goes nothing…" Danny takes a deep breath, before pressing send. He laughs nervously, before straight up chucking his phone at Sam, who catches it.

"I'm going to obsessively check my phone until he answers so let's work on your text instea—" A buzz interrupts him, all four heads swinging towards the phone in Sam's hand.

Her eyes widen, mouth gaping. Danny rolls over, leans to see—

"…Oh." Danny's face crumples. "I guess…I guess that's a no, then."

"Danny…" Tucker reaches for him, but Danny shakes his head and stands up.

"I gotta…I gotta get my room set up. Thanks for all the help guys, I—" He cuts himself off, voice going small and hurt, "I guess he got tired of waiting?"

He bites his lip. Val doesn't know what to say. None of them do.

He goes to his room, and Val never sends that text to Steph.

(Red Hood gets a text message from Danny asking Jason if he'd like to catch a movie together.

There's a follow up text where Danny asks if maybe Jason would like to get dinner afterward too, just the two of them.

Red Hood is in the middle of Nanda Parbat, stealing his stupid brother's no longer missing spleen back from the creep who tried to clone him.

Red Hood has bloody gloves, and has three ninja assassins stalking him.

Red Hood texts back a "can't." but nothing to follow up, not without getting a knife to the neck.

He manages to get back home, toss the spleen back at his brother, and fall into a dead sleep 18 hours later.

When Jason wakes up another 10 hours after that, it's to an abundance of messages from his friends and family. Only one is important.

dannywithawhy: ok.

Jason falls out of bed.)

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Now imagine shifter!König, not shifted, and going through the lunches in the fridge. Finding his Finches, cause turns out the little bird is stupid good at cooking. And 'Finch' not 'Handler' now, storming into the enclosure squawking and shouting and accusatory fingers pointing.

"You big bloody bastard! Those are mine!" 'Finch' squawks out, unable to even try and reach those stupid exercise rings. They're a bitch to clean as it is up that high and asshole König likes to lounge on them now knowing it pisses off his Finch. Wait, his...? ....Yes, his. His Finch.

Okay so, before I keep going, can I steal the name Finch? I always like naming the readers for the stories and Finch is just so darn cute. I love it so much. Would I be able to use it going forward?

Now, onto the response:

Art from This Post

König is just a hungry man. As the largest shifter on KorTac's Eastern European base, he's well known as 'The Vacuum' for how he hoovers through food. He'll happily go through other people's lunches to get some extra snacks. Does he feel good about it? Somewhat. If KorTac wants to have such a giant shifter, they should be giving him more to eat. In a way, this is his form of silent protest. If KorTac won't feed him, he'll feed himself. It's only fair, he says to himself. You're a dick, everyone else says. I don't care, König decides.

Handlers and shifters alike know to be wary of König's efforts. Locks don't keep König out of lunches, but if you put your lunch at the very back of the fridge and not towards the front then usually you're free of König's snooping.

When you go to put your lunch in the fridge, you find it a bit hectic and messy. It's bizarre, seeing everyone's lunch pushed in the back. You can't help but wonder why everyone is piled up in the back of the fridge. The clamber to the back of the fridge has people piled up until they hit the top of the fridge, with another lunchbox or two shoved in to boot. It's a complete mess that's probably squishing their lunch into oblivion.

So, finding plenty of clear space at the front, you put your lunch tucked to the side and go about with your day.

All the others would say it was predictable, but the shock and horror upon finding your lunch raided had you chewing the culprit out to another handler near by.

"And whoever it was ate all the good parts, too!" you grumbled, "like, how? I just don't get it! It took me ages to make and this fucker comes along and eats all my hard work!"

The other handler, a foggy-eyed man who was closer to retirement than recruitment cleared his thick throat with a cough. You turned to face the old man with a scowl.

"Do you know anything about this Louis?" you snapped.

"Do I ever," the old Frenchman wheezed, "I bet you twenty balles that König was the one behind it."

That has you stalling for a minute. König? König ate you lunch? Oh you were going to kill that feather duster the next time you-

"He's so big but the big man doesn't give him any extra ration tickets," Louis explained, "I'd feel bad for him if he didn't eat my wife's cooking more than I do."

You drummed your fingers on the desk.

"Is there any reason he goes after the handler's fridges? He has the whole cafeteria at lunch.

Louis grinned, "He likes to snack. Don't you know?"

You grit your teeth. The stupid snacking bastard had another thing coming for him, just wait. You'd snap his little bird next when you got your hands on him.

You didn't actually manage to get around to König until after his training sessions for the day. Luckily for you, he had another session of training in his shifted form for you that day. You clenched your fists in preparation.

Of course, preparation means nothing if you never expected what was coming for you. So of course, you were completely bowled over by the sight of König unwrapping a little square of chocolate, the chocolate you'd saved for days, while sitting in a folding chair. He took one clean chomp before he perked up when he noticed you.

"Ah, Handler! What are we working on today?" he cheered, "do you have any good riddles today?"

Your eyes focused in on the little speck of chocolate at the corner of his lips.

"My chocolate..." you muttered quietly.

"What was that?"

"That's my chocolate, you feather-brained idiot!" you squawked, "you-YOU ATE MY LUNCH TODAY!"

König licked his lips, "Oh, you were the one who put your lunch in the front?"

"Fuck yeah I did!" you puffed up, "it took me ages to make it! I put so much time into that sandwich you wouldn't believe it! I was looking forward to it all week, but I had to age the-You know what nevermind. I don't care. I'm better than this. I'm better than all of this. I-"

You trailed off as König strode across the gymnasium floor to the rings, crouched down, then smoothly shifted into his monstrous form as he jumped up to go to the rings.

"GET DOWN FROM THERE!" you bellowed, "I WASN'T FINISHED WITH YOU YET!"

You heard a throaty cackle above. Your hair stood on end instinctively, but the fire inside only raged further.

"GET DOWN HERE!" you screeched like a little monkey.

Up above, König wove through the rings with masterful ease. Your whooping and howling wasn't of that much interest, but he took a moment to stop and hang by his tail from one of the rings. He cocked his head to look at you.

There, down on the ground you spluttered and spat, hopping up and down and waving your arms like a little bird.

Like a little finch, König thought to himself.

"Little Finch," König let out a hoarse laugh, "Little Finch, Little Finch!"

"Who-ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ME!?"

"Little Finch Little Finch!" König tossed his head side to side as he sang out his little nickname for you.

"COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! I'LL SHOW YOU A 'LITTLE FINCH'!"

Oh, König found this terribly amusing. He had a wonderful little game now.

[8lood8ath-8irthday]

Waking up Gucci on my pjs……….

[moeblob]

You know, when I kept getting asked "so you didn't ever have severe pains before now?" in the hospital and I kept replying "I have a high pain tolerance" I meant it. However, there is only so much pain my tiny 4'9" body can hold... (aka I am sweating and in agony bc I'm getting told to use LESS severe pain meds so I don't rely on them too much and it is AWFUL)

[icarusredwings]

Once landed, Logan and Wade were gearing up. There was already an entire search party here, dogs, squad, all of them talking, some parts of the woods taped off. It made Logan's hair raise.

"What's wrong? Hank said you did good by killing that kid." Wade tells him, his snow suit bright red, boots, gloves, and some markings black.

"I didn't kill that kid. That's apprently the problem..." he grumbles, his breath looking just as thick as his cigar smoke. He gave a small shake, not used to the blizzard feeling over his nose again. He was retired. Too old for this shit..

"I fucked up, Wade..."

"What do you mean? You smelled something bad so you attacked it. That's 10 out of 10 wolverine-ing right there. If theyre too stupid to see it, thats their problem." He mutters, stopping in his tracks, Noticing the way Logan had stopped in his, death glaring.

"You found Scotty didn't you?" He looks to where Logans daggers are going. "Yup. You did. Well for now lets ignore him and focus on the little girl. And then after we can beat him to a bloody pulp until he apologizes to you."

Logan growls, trudging forward through the snow towards him.

"Hey?? Hello? Earth to Logan?..... peanut?.... Uugghh god you're so fucking stubborn.." He groans, complaining as he follows suit. "Didnt you hear anything I just said? Girl- then kick ass. There's a checklist!"

Logan couldn't hear his husband complaining, beelining for that asshole, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against a rangers truck. "Give me one damn good reason you drug my ass out here on a PLANE!" He snarls at him, popping the other hands claws out.

"Wolverine! That's enough!" A woman calls, before Scott could even threaten him back.

Turning his head, Logan glared, about to bark a 'What!?' Before seeing her. Standing there, was Ororo, still as beautiful as ever, wrinkles and all. She still was rocking that funky hair cut and she was still (in the snow) wearing those killer boots.

And she. Looked. PISSED.

"Ooh snap- youre in trouble now." Wade mutters, scooting out of frame.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"He-" He tries to explain, but mama bear Ro wasn't having it.

"Ah ah! I don't want to hear it! Let him go."

"But-"

"Now. Logan." Her arms cross, turning to give him that LOOK. She's always had that look. The kind that made unruely little kids behave.. and apprently the Wolverine... even in this old age.

Growling, he lets go of Scott, who drimatically coughs. "What is wrong with you!??"

"You sent a plane on purpose! And-!"

"I said ENOUGH!" Thunder cracks out of nowhere, the sky perfectly clear until now, lightning sparking in the clouds.

The two boys look at her, hell, Even Wade sits down. Right there in the snow. Criss cross apple sauce. ".. Yes ma'am.." he whispers out of instinct.

She gives Wade a look of being pleased with his unquestioned obedience, letting him sigh of relief. "You two. I am TIRED. Of this. Fed up! It has been almost 30 years and you two are STILL having such petty debates! There is a child MISSING and you two rather fight about who has the bigger penis!"

Wade coughs. "Logan- " Only to be shot an instant death glare. "Sorry ma'am, but it's true your honor." He salutes, sitting up straight as Ro rolls her eyes, stepping forward.

"Well do it sometime else!! Because so the godess help you, if this little girl doesn't survive? You will be sorry. Do I make myself clear?"

".. Crystal." Scott says, glaring at logan from the side of his visor, rubbing his neck a bit drimatically.

"Logan?" Her brow raised, tilting her head towards him.

"....Fine! But just know that if she dies... It's his fault." He growls, going quiet as he puts the claws away, crossing his arms.

"Good. Now get to work. I'm keeping it as clear as possible, but it takes a lot of power, so hurry up. We're already past the 48-hour mark..." She says this with a sense of melancholic bite as she turned, her cape flowing over as she walked away.

For a moment the boys were silent, only glaring into each others souls, eyes dark with dislike for one another to th very core.

"....soooo... you guys gonna kiss or what?" Wade asks, being shot two more death glares, making him put his hands up. "Fine fine! Lets go find the kid...sheesh.." Standing, he begins to walk off, towards the officers to see if they had anything for Logan to sniff.

Standing there, tense and still, Logan glared needles into him. If he stared any harder he hoped Scott would burst into flames.

"Logan! Come on!" Wade calls as Logan ignores him.

"... Better get going.... your husband is calling." Scott says, but the tone in his voice implied that Logan was the wife, enforcing a negitive gender association that only pissed Logan off anymore.

Slowly starting to walk off, Logan paused. "Better run along, Slim... Daddys calling... Oh wait.."

He walks away, leaving Scott to grit his teeth, tightening his fist into a ball..

Thinking about old Worst Wolverine being called by each of the X men individually after they have a falling out because Logan injured a child very badly to the point the only reason they didn't die is because another classmates healing abilities all while he just... walked away.

Well- ran.. away... leaving a child to die. He's tried to explain thousands of times that he blacked out, that he didn't remember doing any of this. He tries to say that maybe it was someone else, that mystique did this shit all the time in his universe.

"Yeah, well!? This isn't your universe! Because the REAL Logan would never do this.." Scott screams at him as Logan leaves the Mansion for the last time. He doesn't come back. He didn't even get to tell his Xkits goodbye. It got to the point where Laura dropped out, taking Gabby with her, wanting nothing to do with the school anymore.

So now, here he is. In Maine, an old fisherman, part-time hunter, and the only people he lets around him have healing factors.

He lives with Wade, who still- by the way- doesn't have any grey hairs (maybe because hes bald but- yk)

One night, while Logan is out, making himself feel useful by feeding the small town they're in, providing for more poor families, feeding their children's hungry mouths and asking nothing in return but respect. (It gets to the point that the children cheer when they see Logan, wanting to hug him, but he growls at them to get off, too afraid of hurting them) Wade finally awnsers the ringing phone.

"What." There's vemon in his tone, but soon his eyes widden, and he frowns.

Walking outside he stands there a moment, knowing Logan can hear him.

He ignores him, looking at the fish, litsening, his breathing slowing as he skewers some with his claws. Its not exactly spear fishing but- close.

"What?" His voice is almost annoyed, as if knowing what his long time Husband was about to ask him.

"Logan.."

"No."

"Logan-"

He shakes his head. "Don't care."

"...She's missing."

He pauses, turning after scraping the dead fish into a bucket. "Who's missing?"

"There's a little girl missing."

"So?"

"Logan!"

"I'm not helping them, Wade. That's final." He growls.

For a moment, Wade frowns, but he didn't learn to obey thy husband like the bible said.

He never did.

"Logan, there's a 6 year old out there. All alone. Cold. Probably going to be eaten by wolves!" He shouts from the back porch, knowing his place enough to stay here and not come near his fish. Even after all these years, Logan was still finicky over his food. "And all because some old fart won't help her!"

The silence thickened as Logan thought about it, the hero side of his brain yelling 'We'll find her!' And the hurt old part of him saying 'That's not my buisness.'

".. You find her then." He compromises.

"I can't! And if anyone knows those Canadian woods, it's you! You said you knew those forests like the back of your hand!" Wade protests. "If I could smell someone through miles of freezing snow, I would. But I can't. So here I am, asking The Wolverine to go do what he does best."

He grunts, glaring. "And that is?"

"Helping a little girl get back to her mommy..." Wade says, knowing that he was sold. He knew he was sold the moment he told him to do it himself. "She doesn't have much time, Logan." He sighs, putting a cherry on top.

The greyed man huffed, grumbling under his breath for a moment. "Who will stay here with the dog?"

"Gabby can! She loves gabs." Gott'em.

"What about Laura? Why can't she find her?"

Shit.

"Logan, Laura has barley been in those woods. You've lived in them for years. So. What will it be. Pull up your panties and go save a little girls life? Or do it anyway when our baby girl gets lost too?"

Logan scoffs, disappointed. "..She wouldn't get lost.."

"She would if the scent kept being blown away.."

Wade adds, seeing the 'god damn it, he's right.' look on the old mans brow.

He lets out a large sigh. "...I don't want any help."

"Oh well too fucking bad bucko, I'm gonna go pack my snow suit!"

"No! I mean... I don’t want any help from THEM.."

"No promises. I'm not letting poor Susie die just because you have a grudge. Now put your fish in the freezer and lets go! They're coming to pick us up-"

"I ain't flying!!" Logan snarls, watching as his lover ran off, having a deep feeling that he would be in the air shortly..

[acebytaemin]

happy bday to my number one guy, king of my heart and the true big boss, M @linoguy 💖🤎

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."

[littlelamy]

you were right!

a/n: okay, i know you guys might be tired of me doing these but this is my last one! i hope you all like it 😜 gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The blazing Moroccan sun beats down on Rafe, its intensity mirrored by the firestorm raging in his mind. Dust hangs in the air around him, adding to the harshness of the moment as he stands over the well. Below, Groff coughs and groans, his face contorted in pain, but Rafe barely spares him a second glance. His rage overpowers everything else, even the satisfaction he should feel. He narrows his eyes, voice laced with anger and finality.

“Checkmate, bitch!” he yells down, his words slicing through the hot, tense air. The motorcycle engine he’d used to get out here sits idle a few feet away, rumbling like his frustration.

He turns on his heel, muttering a curse, fists clenched. As he stalks away from the well, he pulls out his phone and dials Sofia’s number, his chest tight with the realization that everything he thought he knew was a lie.

Sofia answers after two rings, her voice as casual as if he hadn’t just found out about her betrayal. “Hey, babe, what’s up ?”

Rafe’s voice is steely, cold. “Is it true? Is it true, what Groff just told me? Is it?”

The silence on her end is all he needs. He can practically hear her scrambling for words, but she never manages to answer. His face twists in anger.

“Pack your shit. Get out of my house,” he snarls, a final, unforgiving edge in his voice. “God, after everything I did for you? We’re done. Done.” He hangs up before she can say another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket with a bitter scoff. Betrayed, twice over—and he’d ignored the only person who saw it coming.

He stands there, baking in the Moroccan heat, his mind racing back to a month ago in Kildare, when you and he had argued over Sofia. You’d warned him that she wasn’t who she seemed. He’d brushed you off, accusing you of jealousy—knowing damn well that there was more to it. You were his best friend, but it was complicated; that line had already been crossed too many times, with late-night kisses and tangled sheets. But you two hadn’t spoken since that fight, since the way he’d brushed you off had hurt deeper than either of you cared to admit.

Taking a breath, he pulls out his phone again, fingers hovering over your name. He hesitates, swallowing his pride, before finally pressing call.

The phone rings, and you pick up after a few moments, your voice tight with annoyance. “What, Rafe?”

Your tone makes him pause, but the way you sound almost comforts him, even with the irritation clear in your voice. You’re there—back in Kildare, probably sitting cozy in your little apartment. Meanwhile, he’s out here under the scorching sun, alone, trying to piece together his pride.

He clears his throat. “Hey… princess,” he says, voice softened, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. He can almost feel you rolling your eyes on the other end, but he presses on, the words weighing heavy on him. “I—uh… Look, I’m sorry. You were right.”

There’s a surprised pause, and he hears you shift in your seat as if you’re debating whether to hang up or let him speak. When you do answer, your tone is a bit softer, cautious.

“What happened?”

Rafe lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Turns out Sofia was exactly who you said she was. A snake. And here I was, thinking you were just being… petty. But I guess I’m the idiot, huh?”

You breathe out, and he can picture you shaking your head, lips pressed together. “You wouldn’t listen,” you say quietly, as if the words hold more hurt than anger.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his voice. “I know. I was so damn sure you were just jealous. I mean—” He pauses, grappling with how to say it. “Hell, I thought you were jealous because you… I don’t know. I thought you didn’t want me with her because we…” His voice trails off, but the implication lingers between you.

“Yeah,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “I get it.”

Rafe bites his lip, letting the words sink in. “Can I see you? I’m done here in a few days, and I could be back in Kildare very soon. I could stop by, explain… properly.”

A beat passes, and when you finally speak, it’s careful, guarded. “After everything you said last time, why should I?”

He laughs softly, almost self-deprecating. “Because I think you might be the only person I can trust right now. And… I miss you.” His voice drops, laced with a warmth he can’t help. “Even if you’re just going to gloat and rub it in my face.”

You chuckle, and he smiles, savoring the sound. “I don’t know if I miss you or if I just feel sorry for you,” you tease, but the playfulness is back in your tone, if only faintly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, amusement lacing his words. “Act like you don’t care. But come on, you miss me. Admit it.”

A small silence follows, and he imagines the way your lips twitch into a smile. Finally, you relent. “Maybe a little. But you’re bringing wine. Good wine.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” he says, the flirtation back in his voice. “Only the best for you.”

You scoff, but he hears the hint of a laugh. It’s the closest thing he’s had to a good moment in a long time. He takes a breath, savoring the thought of leaving this mess behind and getting back to Kildare—back to the only person who knew him well enough to call him out, and care anyway. As the call ends, he puts his phone in his pocket, a grin spreading across his face, motivating him to get that crown and go to his princess.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif

[writers-potion]

I’ve seen your kiss scene and fight scene vocab posts and was wondering if you could do one about some things characters may do when they are nervous, or there is awkward tension — not necessarily romantic but just awkward.

Nervous Tension Vocab

Physical Reactions

have sweat beading/breaking out on one's forehead

have one's heart in one's mouth (or throat)

have one's heart pounding (or pulse racing)

butterflies in one's stomach

hand feeling clammy

knees bouncing

pacing back and forth

tearing up due to embarassment (wanting to cry)

Shift their weight from one foot to the other

Sway slightly where they are standing

Fidget with their hair, clothes, nails, or something they’re holding

Glance around the room or refuse to make eye contact with someone

Chew on their lips or nails

Hum quietly to themself

Tap their fingers on their arm, the wall, or a table

Wrap their arms around themself

Cross their arms or legs while seated

Pick at their lips or cover their mouth

Rub their own neck or shoulder

Sigh often

Sit with their knees up near their chest, or lay in the fetal position

Look stiff and uncomfortable

Check over their shoulder often, or glance around the room

Cough or clear their throat often

A pounding heartbeat, or the feeling that their heartbeat is in their head

Accelerated or heavy breathing

A tingling sensation in their fingers, hands, or legs

A rush of energy (which would suddenly leave them afterward, making them even more tired than usual)

Dizziness

Tightened muscles

Descriptors

fumbled

blushed

winced

fidgeted

cringed

stuttered

giggled

afluttered

agitated

robotic

hesitant

bothered

distracted

edgy

clumsily

awkwardly

distractedly

flustered

frantically

frayed

hypertense

nervy

jittery

jumpy

intimidated

paranoid

perturbed

rattled

queasiness

restive

restless

skittery

shudder

skittish

strung up

tenterhooks

tight

stressy

uneasy

unquiet

twitchy

unsettled

uptight

unrelaxed

Idioms

be at your wit's ends

be bricking it

be ill at ease

be on pins and needles

be under the gun

get in a sweat

have all the cares of the world on your shoulders

have kittens

like a cat on a hot tin roof

sweat bullets

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[xemdead]

Astarion probably isn’t used to aftercare with all his trauma regarding sex / intimacy.

So imagine after the first time with you, almost immediately after you both finish, he gets up to re-dress. He expects you to do the same and leave, just like everyone has before you. But instead, you tug him back down into your warm embrace. He’s frozen, unsure what you’re doing but he likes the way you play with his hair. It slows down his erratic post coital heart, as his head relocates to your chest. Astarion comes to the realisation that he’s never actually taken a moment after sex to calm his body down before. It’s nice. You stay like this together for a while, relaxing after all the physical movement from earlier.

‘You okay?’ You mumble to him in a tired haze, ‘Did it feel good? You want some water?’ You begin to sit up, disrupting his position on your chest. For once he doesn’t reply, no flirty quips ready on his tongue. Astarion finds himself half shocked, half in awe that you care how he feels and what he felt like during the act. No one’s ever asked him that before.

You leave the bed briefly to the bathroom and return with a washcloth. You wipe yourself off then gesture towards Astarion, ‘Is it okay for me to clean you?’ You say softly, asking his consent.

He coughs, clearing his throat, ‘Of course,darling,’ he says, clearly covering up his confusion and rising nerves. ‘Are you okay?’ You ask again, repeating the question from earlier.

‘Yes, my love, I’m fine... it’s just no one’s ever done this to me before,’ he states gesturing down to where you carefully wipe his inner thighs. ‘Oh!’ You stutter ‘I can stop if your not comfortable with it—’. ‘I love it.’ he states, cutting you off. Eyes staring warmly into your own.

After this scenario happens I feel like Astarion will make the extra effort to learn proper aftercare for you, he begins to realise how important it is to check in after sex, he never wants you to feel used like he did in the past.

(Notes: sorry this is pure Astarion brainrot. Not proofread/edited. This man has crawled his way into my heart)

[cherrygirlfriend]

bsf!rafe fingering reader while they're watching a movie with friends

warning: smut!! MDNI, exhibitionism kinda i currently have acrylics so if i get any typos i'm sorry i'm practicing doing nails ... anyway sorry bsf!rafe lovers he's gonna be going through the wringer ... this is not a threat, but a promise.

movie nights were nothing new for you and rafe, having been a wednesday night tradition ever since you were both in middle school, but ever since you had started hooking up, it mostly turned into you two making out and eventually fucking while the movie just played in the background.

every time, you had told yourself that you two would just watch a movie, maybe cuddle a little, but as soon as rafe brought his large hand to your thigh, holding it in his palm, so close to your pussy that it usually took about fifteen minutes until your shirt was on the floor as you ground yourself against rafe's bulge.

and of course, on the wednesday when you wake up so horny even using your vibrator doesn't help, when you go through the day just antsy to get to have rafe all to yourself, to ride his cock until you're sore, of course that's the day when fucking topper and kelce decide to join, topper complaining about something sarah had done again.

a blanket laid on your lap as you bit on your nail, the throbbing in your cunt so intense you couldn't even focus on the movie playing on the large tv in rafe's living room, the smell of weed wafting in the air as topper took another hit from his bong.

you turned to look at rafe, the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed a large swig from his beer, his large hand at the neck of the bottle making you wish it was your neck it was around while he fucked into you ruthlessly, pounding into you from behind, mumbling obscenities under his-

you clear your throat, trying to rid yourself of the filthy thoughts in your head pressing your legs together for some sort of relief, feeling a wet patch on your panties. rafe looked at you with furrowed brows, scooting closer to you. "you alright?" he asked quietly, not wanting the other boys to pay attention to you two.

"yeah..." you mumble weakly, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, the sight making rafe chuckle under his breath; he knew what was going on.

he moved some of the blanket on your lap to cover his lap, leaning closer to your ear, "don't tell me you're horny." he whispered with a tsk, your eyes widening, wondering how the hell he knew. he tugged a strand of your hair behind your ear, before glancing over at topper and kelce, the two boys too high to notice anything was going on. "i know your body like the back of my hand, baby." he said, pressing his hand on your thigh, under the hem of your dress. "plus, you only wear dresses when you want me to have easy access."

his hand slowly wandered closer to the edge of your panties, your legs automatically opening, and when he finally touched your core through your panties, he let out a dry chuckle, feeling the wet patch on the lacy panties rafe himself had bought you.

"r-rafe..." you whispered softly, but rafe simply turned back to the tv as his pointer finger and middle finger began rubbing your clit over the damp fabric of your panties, not enough to make you cum, but enough to keep you on edge.

"shhh, we don't wanna make a scene." rafe whispered as he turned to glance at you with an almost sadistic smile. the more he rubbed you over your soaking panties, the more your legs inched apart further, your aching cunt just begging to be filled with his cock, having grown so used to being stretched out, the thought making you whimper. "you want me to stop?" he looked at you warningly as you let out the noise, and you shook your head, pressing your lips closed. "good girl."

he let his hand slide under the lace of your panties, finally rubbing your clit directly, the sudden new sensation causing your back to arch off the couch, a small moan leaving your lips before you covered it up with a cough, but it caused topper to glance over, a confused look on his face. "you good?"

"y-yeah," you muttered, "i think i'm getting sick. i've been feeling weird all day." topper simply nodded at your answer, before taking the bong from kelce, taking another hit. rafe let out a small chuckle as you stared daggers at him in embarrassment, but your disdain was quickly forgotten as he continued his ministrations, his fingers rubbing your clit with more pressure, the tips of his other fingers brushing against the folds of your pussy with every move he made.

you could feel the climax building, the way the coil in your stomach grew tighter and tighter. suddenly, your legs shook, your toes curling as an intense orgasm crashed through your body, your hips bucking, your back arching, trying to get closer to the hand that was wreaking havoc on your clit.

rafe used your orgasm as an opportunity to shove his hand higher, feeling your wetness drip onto his fingers as he began to rub at your entrance, his thumb moving to your clit, the friction driving you wild.

topper and kelce were still too high to notice anything, the two boys now debating which superhero on the movie was stronger, a conversation you couldn't care less about, your mind only focused on rafe's hand, on the way your body was responding to his touch as he plunged his fingers into you, your pussy clenching around his digits due to your orgasm.

when you were finally getting down from your orgasm, he pulled his hands away with a cocky smirk, subtly cleaning his fingers with his mouth. he was about to whisper something to you, but you were both pulled out from your reverie when his phone started ringing on the table, and even though you only got a glance at the screen, you knew it was sofia.

rafe rose to his feet, taking his phone and going into the other room, and suddenly all the euphoria your orgasm had brought you was gone.

[cute-sucker]

for some reason whenever you want to rest, you find yourself in satoru gojo lap. or might i add, your husbands lap. it's a soft spot where he lets you sit in his lap as long as you control yourself, you are warm and supple in his arms—your cute nose scrunched up and you further retreat into his lap, mumbling slightly.

his gentle hand is petting your head, and his warm breath is fanning your neck. this is the very few times he looks calm, blindfold on, chuckling softly as you yawn. this was a photo of a perfect moment, and just as he feels your chest slack, breathing softer than before—someone jumps into the room.

"gojo! hey, do you want to—"

you hear a loud hiss, your husband lurching up as your eyes flutter open. you're disoriented as you try to figure out who it was. you can tell satoru  is conflicted by how he looks at you—a sad pout on your face, plump lips pulled downwards—and he looks enraged.

"wha-what's happening? i think i dozed off there," you cough, gently pulling away from satoru's lap. you can feel your face heat up as you try to get away from his warm lap. you don't have to look up to see the disappointed look.

but every time you try to get up satoru unrelenting hands pull you back. you can't help but laugh, trying to swat away his arms, still feeling sleppy. you look at your husband who's frowning, a grumpy expression on his face before glaring at the invader.

"shit, man, um...uh, you know what. i'm gonna leave."

then you hear a soft click of the door in your shared apartment, as you rub your eyes, trying to stifle your yawn. but satoru is watching you, a strange stern lok on his face. he scoops you up again, ignoring your surprised expression.

"you're going to go to sleep," he demands, pulling down his blindfold to look at you in that way of his. you sigh, pulling at his t-shirt. you want him there with you, but you're too tired to even get up.

you stifle a laugh, smiling at him. now he looks away. this is your way to convincing him to come to bed. you have a way with him too, and you know how tired he has been, scurrying with missions and barely having enough time to properly sleep.

"ah! don't do that. you're too precious to look at," satoru huffs, cheekily swatting at your face. but you can't help but notice the concern in his eyes, it's clear as day that you've overworked yourself.

you sigh," hey grump. how about you calm down, and come rest with me?"

and it's here where gojo satoru groans, gently getting on the bed. his voice is sugary sweet as he pulls you in closer. the bed dips slightly with the weight of both of you, and you breathe in his scent. now he's exhausted as you move closer to him. his hands are on your waist, and you smile. plan accomplished~!

"this was your plan, huh? to get us both in bed?"

you bite your lip, and then put your face between the empty gap in his collarbones, "i wouldn't dare, my strong husband." satoru peeks up at you, making a low approving noise at the back of his throat.

"i am strong-"

"my strong husband who is so kind to let me rest, who cooks, and yet he has one flaw...." you continue, trying to muffle the laughter that follows the statement. you watch him pop an eye open, a soft scowl on his face.

"what? no-"

you shut him up with a hand on his mouth, "but he seems to forget to take care of himself."

and suddenly you watch him exhale, a small ripple effect takes place in his body. he gives you a gentle kiss, and everything in him goes slack, as he puts on the blanket on both of you. satoru is watching you carefully as you nuzzle his chest. you hear his heart slow.

"it appears my wife is correct,"

you huff, "i am usually correct."

"there you go again."

but of course in true fashion, he's smiling.

[g0dlyunsub]

for the night.

the flight back from a case gets delayed and the team’s forced to book rooms for the night. what a coincidence that you’re paired with spencer.

pairing :: s5!spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: fluff, flustered spencer, this is literally just an excuse to write about spencer with crutches

word count :: 1.7k

author’s note :: one of my favorite tropes asfdfafssfsd we all know where this is going right ;)

accompanying song :: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas

“i have to admit, i am quite surprised. engine failures are extremely rare — statistically, they only occur once every 1.4 million flight hours.”

“uh-huh, very interesting.” you roll your eyes, but the smile that tempts to play on your lips is too overpowering to withhold. 

“it is!” spencer excitedly flashes you a smile. “we’re actually incredibly lucky to avoid an in-flight shutdown, which typically happens once per million flight hours-”

“reid, i think our luck might be running dry here. it’s 1 a.m., the jet’s engines are acting up, and we can’t leave portland.”

you take both of his crutches in your hands with an exasperated sigh. it’s not his fault, and you know better than to project your annoyance at him, but the disappointment of not being able to enjoy a nice, hot shower in the walls of your home has you uptight.

with an apologetic smile, you extend your shoulder to spencer; slowly, he places his hand on you, and you help him carefully descend the jet’s stairs.

the two of you are the last to join the rest of the group on the ground, and hotch sends an acknowledging nod in your direction once he sees that you’ve been assisting spencer. 

“l/n, reid, you guys okay with rooming together for the night?”

the words don’t initially register, and it’s only until spencer speaks up that you realize hotch isn’t asking – he’s confirming.

“we’re rooming in pairs?”

hotch nods, and his sidelong stare roams over spencer’s face like he’s challenging him to continue, to contest his proposal.

“emily? jj?” you pipe up this time, sending a pleading glance at both of them. they look back at you with sheepish smiles. 

“it looked like you guys were having a really good conversation back there. didn’t want to disturb you,” emily returns, slowly raising her shoulders and mouthing sorry.

spencer clears his throat and leans into your ear. “i can probably book a room at another place-”

you widen your eyes and immediately shake your head. “no, that’s not necessary, i’m completely fine with it! unless you’re… not?”

this time, spencer’s the one shaking his head fervently. “oh no, i’m entirely comfortable, perfectly content, uh- sharing a room with you.”

you display an awkward grin. “alright then, perfect.”

—

“i’ll set your bag on the table, is that okay?”

“yeah, thanks a lot.”

you heave a sigh of relief as you close the door behind you and rest spencer’s bookbag on the wooden table. spencer slowly lowers himself into a chair, and you gently lean his crutches against the walls near the door. 

you’re pleasantly surprised by the room’s decor; its soft carpet floor and mahogany picture frames hanging from the walls easily exceed your expectations for a traditional hotel room.

you’re about to make a comment commending the room’s quality when your eyes zero in on a terrifying sight.

there’s only one bed.

you do a double take, circling around the bedroom once more to check if there’s an extra mattress lying around somewhere – at this point, you really wouldn’t mind if the bed has a trundle.

“fuck me.”

“what?” 

spencer’s eyes immediately divert to you, and he stifles his reaction to your comment with a hasty cough.

you point to the bed, which prompts spencer to crane his neck to get a better view. 

“there’s only one bed.”

spencer’s eyes widen, and his gaze snaps up to your face so fast you wonder if you’ve just made a grave mistake of telling him. 

he was bound to find out anyway.

“it’s okay, i’ll take-” you start, but he cuts you off short.

“the floor? not a chance.”

you press your lips together tightly and gesture to his leg. “please, take the bed. your leg… you’re injured.”

spencer looks down at the floor briefly, a light shade of pink spreading across his face. “no, we can… we can share the bed.”

you feel your cheeks grow hot at his suggestion, but a refusal fails to surface on your lips. 

moving your hands to your hips, you nod slowly. “only because you’re insisting,” you murmur.

a brief silence veils the air, and the two of you have utterly no idea what to do next — neither of you wants to be the one to crawl into bed first.

but the clock’s hour hand had just moved past the two, and you know your eyelids aren’t going to stay open for much longer.

with a weary sigh, you gesture towards the lightswitch. “do you mind if we dimmed the lights a little?”

spencer turns, almost hobbling on his leg, and flips the switch for you. the room turns dark almost instantly, but a faint light emanates from a lamp on the nightstand.

“are you, um, going to sleep soon?”

you hate to be the first one to bring it up, but you have to — you can practically feel the tiredness tempting you like a fuzzy blanket.

“uh yeah, we should sleep.” 

you watch as spencer grabs a pillow from his side of the bed and positions it near the edge of the mattress. you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he props himself onto the bed and rests his leg on top of the pillow, elevating his casted knee.

oh. as the realization hits you, you reach for your own pillow and gently place it next to his head. “here, use this.”

“that’s your pillow.” 

“i know.”

a soft chuckle sounds from his throat as spencer raises his head ever so slightly, allowing you to tuck the pillow beneath him.

“thanks,” he murmurs, and pats at the space next to him, urging you to join him on the bed.

once you’ve slipped your feet into the blanket, spencer stretches his arm to turn off the lamp and moves back to whisper a hushed good night into your ear.

you turn to say it back. “good n-”

his hand gently starts to wedge under your neck, and as he moves, strands of your hair coil around his fingers. 

he’s offering his arm as a pillow.

you lie frozen, your breath hitched in your throat, as his arm extends fully beneath you. 

“spence,” you exhale, caught off-guard by the sudden move.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about me,” he softly whispers, inclining his head towards your face.

you smile, though you doubt he can see your face in the pitch-black darkness. 

“sweet dreams,” you hum, and close your eyes to let sleep overtake you.

—

you wake up not to the sound of your alarm, not to the birds usually perched on the tree outside your window, but to the sound of spencer clearing his throat.

you think it’s a dream at first, but you can feel everything — the vibrations coming from his throat like he’s talking to you, his hands stroking a pattern on your back, his breaths tickling your hair.

you open your eyes to see spencer staring back at you with flustered cheeks, his eyes flickering back and forth between your face and… 

you follow his gaze and look down, only to see that your leg’s wrapped casually around his hips, anchoring him to the bed. with a panicked yelp, you immediately retract your leg and leap out of the bed, frantically apologizing to him over and over again.

“i’m so sorry about that, d-did i hurt you?”

your voice sounds scratchy from your parched throat, but how you sound right now is the least of your concerns.

spencer chuckles softly before slowly sitting up. “no, you didn’t do anything.”

you let out a relieved sigh at his response.

spencer grunts as he lifts himself up, tenderly listening to your continued apologies with a warm smile.

“by the way,” he starts, fixing his tie and reaching for his suit jacket, “we're a little late.”

“what?” you gasp, hurriedly tucking your dress shirt into your trousers, “fuck. how late?”

a pause, and then: “five minutes and twenty seconds.”

“oh my god,” you squeal as you fling your and spencer’s bag over your shoulders, “they’re probably all waiting for us.”

quickly turning the doorknob and making way for spencer’s crutches to move past the door, you rush to the elevator and hit the juddering call button.

“next time, you’re-“ you cough out as you try to catch your breath, “-you’re welcome to just push me off the bed. it’s guaranteed to wake me up instantly.”

spencer looks at you questioningly, a small grin spreading across his lips. “next time?”

you clasp a hand over your mouth. “wait no, i meant – hopefully we’ll never have to sleep in a room together ever again, but i’m saying in case-“

spencer tilts his head and lets out an amused laugh. thankfully, the elevator doors open just in time, and you’re spared the trouble of having to explain yourself further.

you bite your lips as the image of his lopsided grin lingers in the back of your mind, and the fresh regret of your words burns your face like a hot fever.

the embarrassment doesn’t end, however, as the doors open once again to reveal your team standing right outside. when the elevator’s chime echoes throughout the lobby, everyone’s heads turn to you and spencer.

you walk out with nervous steps, grimacing when hotch merely nods and announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. spencer makes his way over to derek, who tousles his hair teasingly.

“so, how’d you sleep last night?”

you freeze when rossi’s husky voice drifts into your ears.

you force out a smile. “i definitely could’ve slept better.”

“really?” he hums with a smirk, “i slept like a baby.”

“yeah, you upgraded your room, we get it, you’re rich,” you sigh, eliciting a hearty chuckle from the older agent.

once seated in your usual seat on the jet, you’re accompanied by spencer and morgan, who slump into their seats across from you.

you watch suspiciously as morgan wiggles his eyebrows at you and nudges his elbow into spencer’s sides. “so, late night, huh?”

spencer looks at you briefly, flushed cheeks failing to suppress the smile splaying across his face. 

“shut up.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

What if prompt for the 141: In the Rain

"It's pouring rain, why are you here?" Or something to this nature. I love a confession in the rain, stuck in the rain, kissing in the rain, all of it! Lol

I too love a good confession in the rain. That final scene in Pride & Prejudice is still peak confession in the rain trope for me. I think about it all the time. I think about it on repeat. I want it tattooed on my eyelids. When I think "in the rain," I think of that scene.

So, these aren't smutty by any means but one (maybe two) have some spice to them. They are full of love and longing. There are emotions, angst, and lots of kissing. It's our soaked to the bone 141 boys confessing their hearts in the pouring rain.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief mention of alcohol, suggestive themes, grief/mourning, love confessions, kissing, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings, intimacy, non-descriptive sex

Word Count: 3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

There are few things that John Price indulges in.

Cigars. Whiskey. The thought of you as his woman.

That last one plagues him. It burrows in. Makes a home every night to flood his dreams with images of you. John awakens each morning with you on his mind—and then you linger the rest of the day, crawling forward to say hello when he least expects it.

John sits on a barstool in a dive bar, contemplating life in the bottom of his whiskey glass. It’s the middle of fucking nowhere, but that’s the point. This isn’t a celebration or a job well done. This is a “thank fuck it’s over” drink.

The dive bar is dark and smoky. A jukebox in the corner endlessly rotates between eighties rock and country music. Next to the jukebox is a pool table where a group of three play. Otherwise, the place is entirely empty.

John knocks back the rest of his whiskey, signaling the bartender for a refill. He’s only half-listening to the conversations around him.

Laswell, MacTavish, Garrick, and Riley are all here. Simon is silent, staring off into space as the other three have an animated conversation. You’re here too, sandwiched between MacTavish and Riley. You’re not speaking, but you are listening, nodding your head at all the right moments.

But you look tired. Like you’re about ready to pack it up and call it a night. It’s deserved. This mission sucked. It was brutal. Tough. A complete shit-eating stink of a job. You aren’t part of the team. Not really. Laswell dragged you in last second, and John is happy that she did. Otherwise, he’d never have met you.

And that would be a tragedy.

John only has eyes for you. It is a sweet tooth that cannot be satiated. He’s been a bit reserved in how he’s approached you, but you always have a soft smile for him or a cheeky remark. It’s devolved into flirting at times, and at points so blatant that everyone else chimes in.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” you yawn, pushing your empty glass to the edge of the bar. The bartender walks by and snags it, whisking it away to be deposited into the sink.

This is it. You’re about to walk away. John will likely never see you again unless Laswell decides to call on you. This might very well be his only chance.

You slip off your barstool, and John abruptly stands, his leg smacking into Laswell’s stool. Everyone—including Simon—turns in John’s direction.

He coughs. Clears his throat. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he says quickly.

MacTavish smirks and elbows Gas in the arm. The two men exchange a knowing glance before they both raise their eyebrows at John. MacTavish even shakes his shoulders a bit. John shoots them a cold look over your shoulder. They stifle their laughter behind their glasses.

You don’t notice at all. Your focus is on John, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

The entrance of the dive consists of one interior door, a small entryway, and an exterior door. As the two of you enter the small entryway, a crack of thunder erupts overhead. You pause, staring out the small window on the exterior door. It’s not pouring, but the rain is steady. Getting caught it in for any period of time will likely result in soaked clothes.

You turn slightly in his direction, and John is suddenly aware of how cramped the space is.

“You don’t need to walk me to my car,” you say softly, gesturing toward the downpour. “Not with the rain.”

John shrugs. “I want to.”

It’s true. He does. But there is an ulterior motive here. This is his one chance to have a final goodbye or a new start.

You smile softly, gaze flicking down to the floor before returning to his face. John’s cheeks heat—and it’s ridiculous. He’s a grown fucking man. He doesn’t get flustered. But this space is small. It is far too cramped. John is nearly on top of you.

Beneath those long eyelashes are your gentle eyes. It’s a look you only give him. Your lips part slightly. They’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. He wants nothing more than to lean down and close the distance.

“Okay,” you reply with a teasing laugh, opening the door.

The earthy scent of rain hits him first and then the pattering of the falling rain comes next. You slip out the door and stand close to the building under the small awning, attempting to stay out of the rain. John follows behind, coming up next to you.

Your smile is sweet as you gaze up into the dark sky. But then you turn to him, and that smile morphs into something devious.

“Should we race to the car?” you ask, as if conspiring.

John grins. “Think you can beat me?”

You laugh. “An old man like you? Absolutely.”

John can’t help but smile back, nudging you with his elbow. “Not that old.”

“What do I get if I win?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“A kiss,” says John automatically. It rolls right off his tongue. There is no way for him to take it back. And he doesn’t want to. “What do I get if I win?”

You wait a beat. And then answer.

“A kiss,” you reply slowly.

A kiss.

John blinks, his mind momentarily stuttering out. Your grin widens, and then you’re off, sprinting into the rain and to the car.

John nearly trips as he jogs after you. The gravel is slick and the rain splatters against his jacket. He isn’t all that interested in racing. John is only watching you, and the way your ass bounces as you make for the car. Your curves are lovely. He imagines opening the rear door and pushing you into the back seat, only to drag you into his lap to take whatever he wants.

You make it before he does, but John is right behind, nearly sliding to a stop in the wet gravel. You turn toward him, grinning. Pieces of hair stick to the sides of your face. John cannot help himself. He grabs the back of your neck and draws you in.

You don’t resist. You surrender.

John’s mouth crashes against yours and you open beautifully for him. There is no one kiss. There are many. Multitudes. It is endless. It is rain-laced. Whiskey-drenched. John might have the buzz of alcohol in his veins but you are quickly replacing it.

Your lips part and John slides his tongue inside. Your hands grab at him, fingers digging in. The two of you are pressed together, rain falling to drench clothing and skin.

With a low groan, John pushes you up against the car, intensifying his kisses. You eagerly greet him, accepting them all, returning them in equal measure. You are just as desperate. Just as hungry. Time is an illusion—and it isn’t until you shiver beneath him that John pulls away, aware that the two of you are now soaked through.

“Why are you still here?” you ask.

“You don’t know?” he replies, his hand cupping your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“It’s pouring, John.”

“I know.” You smile, and John goes in for one more kiss. “Do you not feel this? Am I the only one?”

You shake your head. “I feel it. Everywhere, John. I feel you everywhere.”

“Let’s go. Get out of here.”

“Right now?”

John’s grip tightens and you gasp, hips pressing against his.

“Right now.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The rain is light but steady. It falls from the cloudy sky to patter against your umbrella.

The graveyard is empty, and yet you knew Simon would be here. He always is on the anniversary of Johnny’s death. Like clockwork. It’s routine for him. A ritual.

Simon’s back is to you, his head bent as he stands in front of Johnny’s grave. There is no body there. It’s ornamental. Something for family and friends. There are fresh flowers next to the headstone.

You have no idea how long Simon has been out here. Simon has no umbrella with him, and the hood of his jacket is off. He’ll catch a chill like this, which is why you came. Seeing him like this is always difficult, and since Johnny’s passing, Simon has grown more attached.

He is always checking in on you—always near. You’d call it protectiveness but it feels more like obligation. A duty. Most days, Simon appears to be on the cusp of telling you something, revealing a secret that he’s itching to confess. You don’t know what it might be. Couldn’t take a guess. But you have thought about it. You have imagined all sorts of possibilities.

The two of you are always finding the other. Always reconnecting. Always reaching out. If it’s not him, it’s you. Perhaps it’s Johnny’s death that has brought this on. Whatever it might be, Simon is closer to you than he’s ever been, and sometimes it frightens you.

It feels like more.

“I brought you an umbrella,” you say to Simon’s back.

He turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder. Simon’s gaze sweeps from the ground and then lands on you. His hair is wet and droplets of water speckle his face like freckles.

Simon fully turns toward you.

The rain picks up a bit, soaking Simon further. You rush to him, holding your umbrella over his head, cutting off the rain. The two of you stand under it in silence, simply staring at each other. Time stretches, and then Simon’s hand rises, wrapping around your own where you hold to the handle.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

You swallow, and gather your courage. “You shouldn’t grieve alone.”

Simon’s brow softens. “I’m supposed to be the one looking after you.”

“I never asked you to,” you reply.

“But Johnny did.”

You start, eyes widening slightly. “What do you mean?”

Simon licks his lips. A droplet of water drips from the tip of his nose. “I made a promise. To Johnny. I made a promise to him.”

“What promise?” you whisper as the rain picks up more. The rain strikes the top of the umbrella in loud patters that nearly drown out your voice.

Another droplet falls from Simon’s nose. He leans in slightly, and the movement is confusing. It’s too intimate, like he wants to close the distance.

“I promised that I would—” he abruptly cuts off, swallowing. Simon’s gaze darts from your eyes to your lips and then back again.

“What is it, Simon?”

He sighs. “Fuck it,” he growls, shredding any distance there might have been between your bodies.

Simon claims your lips, kissing you so completely that you’re momentarily stunned. You taste the rain. Mint. A slight hint of smoke. You return the kiss, not pushing him away or pulling back. You open for him, accepting it all, and Simon continues to take, his free arm wrapping around your waist to draw you closer.

Even though he’s drenched, Simon is incredibly warm. It’s unfair how he can be an inferno in this downpour.

The graveyard is forgotten. The rain is a distant. There is only Simon’s lips, and the groan he makes when you return each kiss in equal enthusiasm.

Simon goes in for a quick nip before drawing away. It leaves you breathless and wanton.

“Was that part of the promise?” you ask, only half-joking.

Simon shrugs. “In a way.” You arch an eyebrow and Simon smiles softly. “I told Johnny I’d make a move. And now I have.”

“Yes,” you agree, heat blooming in your cheeks and your core. “You have.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

There is no turning back.

You made a choice. Kyle made a choice.

This is how it is.

You don’t want to be at the airport. You don’t want to leave. This entire situation is shit. But Kyle seemed willing to let you go. He’s not here. He didn’t beg you to stay. He didn’t try to convince you that all he wants in life is you.

That’s all you need. To be wanted. To be loved.

After all of this—after everything, and Kyle isn’t here.

You’re not mad. Not really. You are both adults. You both have made a choice. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you don’t understand. Because at the end of the day, you do. Truly.

Sighing, you haul your suitcase over the curb and on the sidewalk. The Uber that brought you here is already pulling away to go pick up someone else. The airport is packed on the inside, and the rain that falls from the sky in sheets. You have a coat, and the hood is up, but what you really need is an umbrella.

Already, you feel the water seeping into the unprotected places. Rain does that sometimes. Trickles in where it isn’t wanted.

You start to pull your suitcase behind you. A wheel catches in a small crack, and it nearly takes you down with it. Stumbling forward, you put a hand out to catch your fall. You expect your bare palm to land on concrete. To burn with pain.

But you don’t make it to the ground. You don’t touch it at all.

There are arms around you. They are strong. And somehow so damn familiar it’s frightening.

Then, you’re being lifted, guided back to your feet. Those strong arms ease you onto solid ground, and then you’re turning to thank the stranger that’s saved you from falling face first into the concrete.

But it is no stranger.

“Kyle,” you breathe, staring into the face of the man you’ve loved for years now.

Something breaks. Shatters.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Kyle hasn’t let you go. His arms are still around you. Your hands grasp his biceps, and his jacket is slick with rain. His hood is not up. And yours has fallen at some point. Already, the rain is soaking your hair. Strands of it stick to your face.

“Coming to right a wrong,” he says. Your lips part but Kyle shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t fight hard enough. I let you slip through the cracks.”

Kyle draws you in a bit closer. The people passing by and the cars are distant.

“I should have told you ‘I love you’ every day. I should have been present.”

“Kyle—”

Your next words are stolen. Kyle closes the distance, and then you’re wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, sinking into the kiss.

You can’t leave now.

You can’t.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The rain falls gently from the sky.

Johnny grins, staring up into it, opening his mouth. His tongue is out to capture the droplets. You laugh, and wrap your arms around his shoulders, going in for a quick kiss on his cheek.

As you draw back, one of Johnny’s hands shoots out, snagging your arm. You playfully yelp, and swat at him, thinking that Johnny will let you go. He’s flirty, and sweet, but there is nothing more to it.

At least, you didn’t think so.

But Johnny’s gaze is heated, and the way he holds you against him is far too intimate to be anything other than what it is.

“Johnny,” you laugh, trying to play it off, but he remains firm.

His smile faulters slightly but it’s not a frown. It’s a heated stare. His gaze is on your lips, and you can see the desire there. What would happen if you went for it? If you kissed him?

“What are we doing?” he asks. “Can’t I have you?”

Startled, everything leaves your head. “What?”

Johnny’s gaze flicks up, and those gorgeous eyes drown you—submerging you in his depths. “Why are we stepping around this? We want each other.”

You do want him, but you thought it was mostly one-sided.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, softly.

Johnny smirks, and then he’s lifting you up into the air, placing you on top of the low stone wall. “Should I use my words?” he asks, fingers sliding underneath your rain-drenched shirt. He is warm, and his touch heats your skin. “Or should I show you with my body?”

Johnny nips at your bottom lip as his hands ascend. One slides between your breasts just as his lips meet yours. Your core clenches, and then you’re grabbing for him, touching him as much as he’s touching you.

The two of you are in the Scottish countryside. There are no people around. Just the two of you, and rolling green hills.

Johnny slots himself between your legs, and you reach beneath his kilt, finding him hard and wanting. He hisses, and then groans when you stroke him.

Everything is warm. Everything is rough.

It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, or that it’s a bit cold. You allow Johnny to shove articles of clothing aside, to find the places where you’re needing him to be. His touch is a brand, and you love how it feels, pulsing through your loins like an overheated engine.

“Johnny,” you gasp into the rain, fingers threading through his hair as he goes to his knees to taste between your thighs.

There is only heavy breath. A twisting of pleasure.

When he finally brings your bodies together, there is nothing but him. Nothing but you. Just two people finding each other.

The rain is nothing.

It isn’t even cold anymore.

Johnny is all heat. And you are burning for him.

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[6gumi]

blessed by the heavens above!

synopsis ﹒ jujutsu kaisen men and their tittie obsession !

pairings ﹒ satoru gojo 、suguru geto 、choso kamo 、kento nanami 、ryomen sukuna ( implications of heian form ! ) 、toji fushiguro x f!reader

cw ﹒nsfw MDNI. tits, tits, tits ! ! ! 、titplay 、body worship ( ? ) 、established relationships ( ? ) 、petnames ( pretty thing 、princess 、reader referred to as “girl” once, etc ) 、titsucking 、size difference 、fingering ( sukuna only ) 、 toji called “daddy” once 、 jujutsu kaisen men n’ their luv for titties . . . | tag ! @diorsbrando

note﹒BACK W/ THE JJK WRITINGS ! ! YAAAAY ! ! coughs coughs wrote this while i was sickies . . . (again) i kept sniffling & sniffing each word i wrote down cries . . . i hope i didn’t make too many mistakes :> | reblogs are highly appreciated. if you want to talk to me or send thirsts / requests, feel free to send me an ask ! — millie ♡

୨୧ SATORU GOJO

gojo was having a rough day . . . the higher ups giving him an earful here and there . . . and exorcizing curses left and right, he was exhausted, so it was almost obvious how he was gonna relax for the entire night ! by laying on your chest ! “i’m gonna take it off now, kay?” his large hands ran through the silky piece of fabric covering your entire body. his beautiful eyes widened at the sight of your bare chest, appreciation clear in his gaze. he licked his lips, unable to resist reaching out and lightly grazing his fingers over your skin, a low hum rumbling in his throat. "fuck . . . now that's what I'm talking about," he says, his voice husky with desire. "damn, angel. your tits are absolutely perfect, just like you." with a mischievous glint in his eye, your exhausted boyfriend leaned in and took one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling it gently before releasing it with a pop . . smirking up at you before latching his mouth back onto your nipple.

shit, he loved your tits, he’d ways pay attention to its warmth, and how it felt within his wet mouth. his mouth nearly watering as he struggled to contain his excitement. gojo’s teeth lazily bit at your nipple, trying to be as gentle as possible . . . breathing heavily through his nose trying to maintain some semblance of control amidst the temptation of your body. you were so small compared to him, yet here he was suckin’ and biting at your nipples . . practically crushing your body from below. despite that, his eyes never left their prize, you. reaching out, he brushed a thumb over one taut nipple of yours . . . earning a sharp gasp. “you make me wanna touch, taste, and explore every inch of you, princess.” the sorcerer spoke playfully, squeezing gently. “can we do this every time i come home?”

୨୧ SUGURU GETO

suguru’s heart swelled as he watched you curl up next to him, he needed your warmth and you were giving him just that. the soft whimpers you made . . . drove him to the edge. the room was bathed in a warm, inviting glow from the fairy lights strung around the windows, casting a rosy hue on the soft sheets and fluffy pillows surrounding you both. gently, suguru traced his fingers along the smooth curve of your hip, drawing lazy circles that made you squirm ever so slightly. despite that, it was a simple pleasure, but it brought him immense joy to see the effect he had on his adorable girlfriend. the sorcerer leaned in closer, whispering into your ear . . . bringing his voice down to a low yet soft whisper as his breath tickled your delicate skin. "see? you’re doing so well, bun," your boyfriend cooed softly, his voice full of warmth and affection. “hm . . . were these things always this cute?”

“your body’s divine, i could look at it for eternity.” suguru examined your tits, he was almost . . . fascinated with how they look. god, how did he not notice their beauty until now? with a tender smile, your boyfriend began to play with your ample breasts, pinching and twisting your sensitive nipples as he watched your pretty face contort in pure pleasure. “yeah . . . my darling likes that, hm?” he could feel his dick pressing against it’s confines as he grunted, squeezing at your pretty breasts even harder than before. “. . . s—sugu . . .” a soft murmur left your lips, your teary eyes gazing up at him. “ . . ‘squeezin’ too hard, sugu . .” “lovely . . . if you say that, i can guarantee that i’ll squeeze these pretty things even harder than i already am. so keep that pretty mouth shut and let ‘sugu do all the work, got it?”

୨୧ CHOSO KAMO

“ . . . baby,” choso’s low voice reverberated through the room, his stare sweet and gentle as he pinched your nipple against his thumb. his own eyes were wide at the display of your breasts, a shiver of desire coursed through him . . . swallowing a lump in his throat as he could feel his dick beginning to swell, pressing against the fabric of his pants. "they’re so beautiful . . “ choso murmured, his voice thick with need for you, the sight was too much. unknowingly licking his lips, he brought your other breast to his mouth, sucking on the nipple and teasing it with his tongue. the cursed spirit’s fingers trailed downwards to your sides, teasing the edge of your panties . . . his grip tightening, almost urging you to rock against him, to feel the length of his erection.

"you’re a good girl," choso praised, his fingers lightly tracing over the curves of your breasts nonstop. he was addicted to the feeling . . . the feeling of your sensitive skin sent shivers down his spine. choso leaned in once more, his lips finding your other nipple, licking and sucking gently, watching as you arched into the touch. "you’re a good girl for letting me see these beautiful things . . . so damn hot," choso bit down gently, a soft smile playing on his lips. choso knew the real remedy for your heat; a good, deep pounding from his throbbing cock. but yet . . . he wanted your breasts . . he wanted to give them his attention, worship them. you always knew he had a thing for titties . . . but tonight, he let his obsession shine through even more. your nipples peaked under the gentle pressure, and the sight sent a surge of arousal coursing through his body. “so pretty, baby . . . such pretty tits you have . .”

୨୧ KENTO NANAMI

nanami’s grip tightens on your arm, a low growl rumbling in his chest. he’s been waiting for this, for you. he’s been away from you for too long, a dreadful feeling of irritation was running through his veins and you noticed that. “you . . . okay, ken?” your husband sighs, hauling you onto his lap, the heat from his body seeping through you. you’re smaller than him, and he loves that. it makes him feel good. nanami’s hand cups your breast, kneading it roughly through the fabric. " . . . i’m just exhausted, princess," he cooed slowly, his voice thick with desire. “just . . . just wanna taste you tonight.” nanami had never imagined himself as the type to be so impulsive, but now here he was, unable to resist the pleasure that awaited him, the irresistible joy of feeling your pretty tits he loved so much against his hands.

“ . . . you’re beautiful.” nanami’s heart raced as he feasted on the sight of you infront of him, he was a man who had never allowed himself such indulgences, but now, in this moment, he found he could no longer resist. lowering his head, your husband tenderly kissed each of your swollen nipples, his hands gently massaging the flesh that surrounded them. your whines grew more insistent and adorable, prompting nanami to do more than he should. the sound of your whine was like music to his ears, sending a thrill down his spine as he leaned down . . . lips brushing against your other nipple, nibbling softly. “pardon me for my ignorance, sweetheart . . . i just needed you so much today. you’re so beautiful . . . it drives me absolutely crazy. these tits . . . so irresistible.”

୨୧ RYOMEN SUKUNA

sukuna reveled in the warmth of your body against his own. the feel of your soft yet delicious flesh beneath his fingertips sent electric shock down his spine. sukuna roughly squeezed one of your breasts, marveling at its firmness. “m—more please . .” you muttered against his chest, the curse’s large hand slid further down, fingers probing between your legs as the wetness he discovered sent a surge of excitement coursing through him. “. . . impatient girl.” the king of curses slowly pushed two fingers inside of you, feeling the tight warmth enveloping his fingers. “you’re a needy slut, you know that?” he scoffs, his fingers in and out of your pretty pussy gently. As he did so, he leaned in closer, “here you are . . . begging me for more. just wait ‘till i fuck this slutty pussy of yours ‘till all you see are stars,”

sukuna’s fingers worked expertly, chuckling lowly at your sweet whines while his other arms held your thighs, keeping your pretty legs spread for him “pathetic . . . ‘s like you’re easy to break.” his fingers danced further as his thumb circled your clit while the others plunged in and out of your cunt, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. "just look at these tits . . .” with each syllable of his words he spoke, his digits gradually worked faster, latching his mouth right on your nipples . . . transitioning between sucking, nipping, teasing. the king of curses could feel the heat of your desire, and he wanted to be the one to quench it. “so fuckin’ small . . . even your pussy can’t take my fingers.”

୨୧ TOJI FUSHIGURO

"do’ya like this, doll?" toji’s way of relieving his stress is getting a small ‘lil squeeze of your tits ! or . . . perhaps more than that. his cruel gaze glanced down at your smaller stature, a cocky grin on his lips as he was practically looming over you. toji’s hand slid down your figure, digits dipping between your legs, stroking your wetness. “tell me you want this. tell me you want me." his hands roamed over your entire body, his touch confident and bold as he explored you willingly beneath his body. "damn, you're even more amazing than i imagined," he whispered into your ear, “ . . . might ‘hafta keep ya. don’t want other morons stealin’ ya, doll-face.” toji’s smirk widened as he gently stroked your hair, relishing in the sight of your precious expressions. it was intoxicating to him, this vulnerability that you endured had him in a chokehold.

“always wondered how these pretty tits tasted, baby. guess i should have a ‘lil taste myself tonight,” toji’s frame leaned even closer, looming over yours. “c’mon sweet girl, let daddy take care of you," he whispered, his hand sliding down to cup your breast, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh before he began to lick and nibble, lapping up the sweet taste of your skin . . his thumb circling with increasing speed as your moans grew louder, more desperate. “fuck, pretty-dolly . . . yer tits are drivin’ me crazy.” toji’s low voice rumbled against his chest, his free hand gripping your hip as he held you firmly in place. “c’mere. sit on my lap, pretty thing . i can give ya somethin’ else to moan and whine about.”

© 6GUMI 2024. modifying 、translating 、sharing my works on other platforms 、or considering them as yours is strictly prohibited.

[holylulusworld]

No (Bucky)

Summary: You turn down every guy trying to hit on you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warning: many egos get scratched, fluff

A/N: Read Steve's version here: Yes

“Hi, my name is Sam. I saw you from over there and wanted to invite you to a drink or more,” he says and flashes you a smile. He’s not bad to look at. If only he didn’t eye you like his latest meal.

“No—” you turn another man down. It’s a crux, going to a bar alone. Most of the guys won’t take no for an answer or show enough decency to leave a woman alone. You wanted to have one drink after work, only to get hit on by the next best guy stepping into the bar.

The man’s shoulders sag, and he goes back to his friends’ table. They pat his shoulder, telling him to not take it to heart. You almost feel bad for him. But only until the next guy from their table walks toward you.

Great. They turned this into a challenge. Watching the next guy walk toward you, you sigh deeply. This is going to be a long night.

“Hello, darling. Name’s Tony,” the next guy drawls. He’s older than the first guy. “Why is a pretty lady like you all alone at a bar?”

You roll your eyes. “Not to talk to a guy with a goatee,” you snap at the man to cut him off. “If you would leave me alone now. The answer is no.”

“Ah, you’re the angry kind,” he leans against the bar counter, eyes drinking you in. “Why don’t you join me and my friends at our table?”

“Sorry, I’m not into gangbangs.”

The guest next to you coughs loudly because he choked on his beer thanks to your reply.

You dismissively wave your hand, sending the guy back to the table with his friends. He shakes his head and joins the bunch of guys.

“Nice comeback,” the guest next to you chuckles. “Oh, here we go. You should prepare for the next one.”

“Not again,” you sigh and down your drink in one go. You tap the glass, ordering another one, while a tall blonde guy steps closer. He seems a little shy as his blue eyes search yours.

“Sorry to disturb you, but—” he clears his throat and points at the table with his friends. “My friends and I wondered if you want to come over and join us.”

You look him up and down. He’s very handsome. Tall and well-built, and his eyes are nice too. Still, you won’t give him a chance.

“Sorry, but no,” you say, smiling. “Maybe in another life.”

“Uh—thanks for your time,” he stammers and walks off. You watch him leave, sighing, as two more guys are at their table.

“Do you think the others will hit on me too?” You ask the guy next to you who ordered beer. He shrugs and grabs the beer to walk away. “Crap, no.” You groan as he joins the guys hitting on you. “He's one of them!”

The guys at the table start to talk louder. They wildly gesture toward the guy talking to you and then at you.

“Fuck no,” you groan as the guy from earlier walks back toward you. He left the beer on the table and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Here we go.”

You sip at your drink and watch him step closer. He flashes you a stunning smile, making your heart flutter. “Hello, doll.” He playfully says and winks at you. “It looks like I’m back.”

“Yup.” You pop the p and grin at him. “So, what’s your pickup line? Do you want to buy me a drink or offer a gangbang like your friend?”

“Oh, doll,” he purrs, and steps closer to cage you against the bar counter with his body. “I don’t share well. If I lay claim on you, you’re only mine.”

You shudder under his gaze. “Who says I’ll allow you to lay claim on me? I don’t even know your name.” He laughs at your comeback. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s funny that you don’t even know you’re already mine.” He cups your jaw with his gloved hand and looks you in the eyes. “What do you say? Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes.”

Steve, Sam, Tony, and the others watch Bucky wrap his arm around your waistline. He winks at them as you pass their table.

“What just happened?” Tony gasps loudly. “This can’t be! Cyborg-brain can’t succeed after all of us fail! How did he do this? How did he turn a no into a yes?"

You giggle and laugh as you run toward Bucky’s bike, holding hands.

“That was fun!”

"For how much longer will we pretend that we just met?” He asks while handing you the spare helmet he bought for you. “Doll?”

You place your hand on his chest and say, “I don’t know. Having a secret relationship has its advantages…”

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