#but i kinda feel like i’m losing to them

[sirhamburrger]

ᯤ feat. yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, hyoma chigiri, rin itoshi, seishiro nagi, kenyu yukimiya, ryusei shidou and oliver aiku ᯤ tags/cw: all characters are aged up, bit suggestive (shidou you freak), petnames ('sweetheart' in isagi's, 'love' in rin's, 'babe' in shidou's), rin is mean (affectionately), shidou being a freak in the minecraft bedsheets, but also really sweet, hopefully not that ooc, i have a semi-serious, semi-casual relationship with minecraft ᯤ a/n: no reason for this whatsoever no prompt no nothing just take this love child between me and my insomnia *shoves this into your arms and runs away* || divider by @sister-lucifer part 2 [rocket league ver with kuni, reo, karasu, sae]

yoichi isagi:

ᯤ is just kinda average at it. like he truly is just okay at it. ᯤ he’s so competitive though (he would ‘race you to that tree over there’ 😭 but he doesn’t know how to sprint so he always loses to you) ᯤ he likes the little sounds the eyes of ender make when you place them in the end portal frame ᯤ defeats the ender dragon with your help but makes you go ahead of him when exploring the nether ᯤ “hey uh sweetheart? why’s that green thing flashing white and making a noise” ᯤ favourite mob: chickens (they’re funny)

meguru bachira:

ᯤ he l o v e s minecraft so much it’s unbelievable (he was probably one of those kids who grew up playing it) ᯤ he loves trying out different hacks he sees on youtube. he knows that 99 percent of the time they don’t even work, but “there’s a 1 percent chance it will, and i’m feeling lucky today!” ᯤ lets you practice your shooting skills using his avatar as a dummy ᯤ cannot wire redstone for shit ᯤ tries to get the rarest (dumbest) in-game death messages ᯤ baabaabaachira experienced mid-life crisis while being attacked by tropical fish ᯤ favourite mob: cave spiders (they look scary in a cool way)

hyoma chigiri:

ᯤ plays for the mobs. will protect his lovelies with all his heart. ᯤ when he got his first minecraft dog, he built a little kennel made of cherry wood for it, only for it to fall into a pit of lava deep in the caves on day 5 ᯤ he cried for five hours ᯤ once you dyed all his sheep pink and he started to tear up just from looking at them ᯤ “hear me out, okay? i think we should get a pet axolotl.” and it’s legal in japan, so you do! (her name is hyoma jr) ᯤ has a huge minecraft zoo ᯤ favourite mob: parrots (they can sit)

rin itoshi:

ᯤ is mean to you at first. he’ll be like “why do you suck at this” and “i could do that too” ᯤ then he gets his hands on the controller and can’t figure out the controls for half an hour ᯤ “… love?” ᯤ “… yes, rin?” (you, amused) ᯤ “… how do you jump…” ᯤ its subtle charm does grow on him after a while. he plays on creative mode and just explores the server on a horse he named sugarcube ᯤ it’s cute watching him play (you send photos to sae) ᯤ favourite mob: sheep (all they do is eat grass and don’t bother you)

seishiro nagi:

ᯤ i will subvert expectations here and say that nagi doesn’t even play minecraft that much because he doesn’t like it ᯤ “such a hassle to play this game… there isn’t even any storyline you can just do whatever you want… and i don’t want to have to decide what to do” ᯤ he ends up finding a passion for building elaborate traps for you to walk into ᯤ absolute beast at parkour. he performs triple neos to perfection ᯤ if he’s a streamer he plays on twitch for the fans but he complains as he does it ᯤ favourite mob: bees (they’re just cute)

kenyu yukimiya:

ᯤ he doesn’t really play video games so understandably he gets off to a slow start ᯤ but once he gets the hang of things? he’s unstoppable. breezing through achievements like nobody’s business ᯤ he’s really excited about it too like “did you see that?? i just killed a zombie!” ᯤ it’s truly the culmination of 18 years of not touching a single game as a child/teen and now playing a sandbox game ᯤ feeling confident, he starts a hardcore world. (he dies from hunger.) ᯤ he's the kind to look up the most beautiful minecraft seed numbers, key them in meticulously and just take in how amazing they are ᯤ favourite mob: foxes, specifically the orange ones (he loves all things forest biome)

ryusei shidou:

ᯤ we all know he’s a very artistic kind of guy so he’d be geeking out over the textures and which colours would go best with each other ᯤ he doesn’t shower for a day because he’s playing creative (my lil stinky 🫶) ᯤ he builds the most beautiful multi storey houses!! and he’s like “if it were real we could live in there together 🥺“ ᯤ “why is the bedroom huge with like twenty beds…” (you, concerned) ᯤ “oh we’re gonna need space babe. for activities.” ᯤ but he doesn’t stop there; he learns how to make entire cities and landscapes and frankly they are masterpieces - think shovel241 (i freaking LOVE his videos they’re so satisfying) ᯤ favourite mob: endermen (he thinks they look badass)

oliver aiku: 

ᯤ meh he’s pretty good ᯤ raged when he first found out fall damage was a thing and again when he discovered hunger and drowning as death messages ᯤ is obsessed with speed runs and parkour for some reason (he’s really bad at both though) ᯤ is the guy who makes “100 MINECRAFT FACTS YOU DIDN’T KNOW” videos with his friends sendo and lorenzo ᯤ you once saw him set up an experiment to see how many blocks a llama can spit and died laughing ᯤ would absolutely kill you in-game just for the fun of it ᯤ favourite mob: cats (especially the black ones)

say hi to hyoma jr. it is not optional.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[jjkbambi]

the morning after luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! part two of is it new years yet because you do not get back together just cuz he has good dick OMG 🖕🖕🖕🖕😒 he also has a great personality and loves eating pussy

warnings: smut, kinda angsty, he’s manipulative but honestly he’s such a nice guy, you should really give him a second chance

^ not edited let’s alll just practice gratitude 🙏

seven days, thirteen hours, and nine minutes and thirty six seconds.

that’s how long it had been since luigi had seen you. not that he’d been counting, he was truly trying to be normal about the distance this time around.

he replays the morning after on a loop, searching for the slightest hint he’d done something wrong to no avail. as a matter of fact, your quiet body was beside him until deep into the afternoon, nothing but soft snores exchanged between the two of you. he wakes before you, kissing your forehead before taking his leave. his frat brothers whistle at him as he enters the wretchedly messy house, throwing him a water.

“happy new year, big guy,” one of them, hasan, greets. “did’ya spend your night thinking about new goals or scoring the same one?”

luigi rolls his eyes. “fuck off.”

another brother chimes in, bright-eyed. “when are we meeting her?”

“in your dreams.”

he had no intention of sharing you in any way; the thought of anyone else even looking at you irritated him. but starting the new year off by your side was far too great a fate to be stoic about. he grabs a plate of what’s left of their shitty communal breakfast (jar salsa from the night before, scrambled eggs, and two pieces of mostly burnt toast) and brings it into your room.

“y/n,” he calls out while entering. the door to the bathroom is now closed, and he sees your shadow shuffling around the room.

hesitant, the door creaks open. youre back in your black minidress, holding onto your heels. “hey, pretty.”

“hi,” you say tightly, the mistakes and soreness from the night before lingering in your mind. you’ve just wiped away the tears still streaked on your face, yet your ex-boyfriend hardly looks hungover.

“dressed up just for me?” he jokes, kissing your cheek. he offers you the plate of food but you shake your head.

“lacy’s waiting for me. i’ve got to go.”

“stay,” he says, his voice honey-sweet, like the boyfriend you knew months ago. it makes you feel sick, the familiarity of it all suffocating you. the room feels too small.

you push away from him. “i have to go.”

“baby,” he drops everything he’s holding to grab you again. “what’s wrong? is everything alright?”

he always blows your mind with his audacity. “no, everything’s not alright, luigi,” you spit back. “we shouldn’t have—none of that should’ve happened.”

“what do you mean?”

“luigi,” you sigh. “we’re over, alright? it’s done.”

“y/n—”

“i mean it,” you raise your voice so slightly, but still it breaks. “you cheated on me, then pulled all this shit, i can’t do it anymore.”

“you can’t do it anymore? are you serious?”

“yes!”

“you ignored me for weeks then showed up at my fucking party, dressed like that,” his voice was low, but angry. brows furrowed, he doesn’t lose his grip on you. it scares you. “you can’t tell me you weren’t bartering for my attention.”

“i wasn’t.”

his jaw sets. “then who’s?”

“oh my god. nobody’s!”

“don’t fucking lie to me—”

“lu, stop, seriously.” your voice trembles this time, and you both notice it. he drops your hand.

“i didnt mean to hurt you,” he says, soft at your upset. “i swear—i dont remember cheating on you. i’m not gonna mess up like that again, i promise.”

he leans in to kiss you, to seal the pledge with his gentle touch, but you pull back. “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to hurt me—you did. you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.“

his big brown eyes bear into yours and he swears, “i can make it up to you.”

“luigi,” you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until he brings his hands up to wipe your tears away. “i just don’t think this is a good idea, i’m sorry.”

“come on,” he says, frowning. “i love you. only you.” his lean-in to kiss you is successful this time. the kiss feels much better—softer—than last night’s. he’s gentle with his desperation, intent on making you stay. “‘m sorry, okay?” he says between kisses. “let me make it better.”

“no, luigi, we shouldn’t—”

“you’ve got to hear me out, y/n,” he takes your lips again. his hot kisses move down your neck—and it all feels so different this time around. even the air in the room feels lighter. his voice is against your ear when he swears, “i’ll be good to you, sweetheart, i promise.”

saying no to him is near impossible—it’s why you shut yourself off of him for weeks, avoiding places he frequented, deactivating your social media, ignoring his constant stream of messages and calls. now, he has you, and within minutes, you’re pressed against the wall again.

“feels good?” he teases, grinding his hard-on into your core. you melt underneath him, you can’t help it, he’s so warm.

“lu,” you whimper. you’re still sensitive from how selfishly he took you the night before, you can’t help but react to his touch so quickly. it felt so raw.

“wait—” he never does. his hands are on your hips again, moving your body against his.

“just let me take care of you,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck again. this time, he was sure to leave marks.

he keeps the dress on this time. he places you back onto the bed, and as you gather the courage to take him in again, he moves beneath you.

“knew i recognized these,” his voice hot against the fabric of your panties.

you told yourself the lacy black panties were just meant to match the dress, but it all seemed so intentional—the party crash, the kitchen drive-by, the fact that you were wearing his valentines day gift. whether this was a manifestation of your greatest fear or desire, you couldn’t tell.

he kisses your thighs, then runs his tongue against your core through the fabric of your panties before ceremoniously ripping them off. he kisses and sucks at your wetness. you tremble at the suddenness of his movement. his big nose is so prominent in your pussy, you can’t help but grind yourself against his perfect face and whine as he drinks you in.

“you’re such a fucking mess,” luigi says, smiling into your warmth. his unshaven stubble tickles your sensitive cunt, sending a tremor through you. “so wet, i’ve barely even touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” you whimper.

he grabs your ass, pulling you closer to his relentless mouth. it’s ridiculous how good he feels. he’s completely shameless in his endeavor to ruin you.

“look at me,” luigi orders, so you do. you look down to see him, finding that he’s already gotten to touching himself. his hard length at the edge of the bed, furiously red, as he strokes himself. “i think about you everyday,” he admits in between licking at your core. “i missed how this pretty pussy tasted. i missed having you like this. holding you down so you can’t squirm away. missed hearing you beg.”

you’re almost there, fidgeting underneath his hands. “luigi, please. it’s too much.”

“you’ve taken worse,” he growls into you.

he feels like he’s on fire. one hand moves up and down along his cock fervently, while the other lends itself to fingering your frothing pussy. you mewl at the sudden entry, back arching.

“luigi,” you whine. “please.”

“i’m trying to do a nice thing for you, y/n,” he hums, “but you want me to be selfish, hm? want me to take you?”

“yes,” you say, breathless.

“fuckin’ slut,” he grumbles, pulling himself away from your wet cunt. he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “what d’you want from me, huh?”

“want you.”

“course you do,” luigi says, surprising you with hard slaps against your sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, the unfamiliar storm of bliss and torment, and he chuckles darkly. “you fuckin’ belong to me.”

he grabs your chin and forces you into another kiss, your wetness now staining you both. he lifts your leg up and slides himself back into your wet warmth. “you’re dripping,” he praises as he pounds into you. the exhilarating pain sets your senses alight, you grip onto him tighter without even realizing. “all for me, yeah?”

“all for you.” you nod. this is not how you expected this conversation to go. you writhe at how big he is, how hard.

“you can take it,” he grunts. he’s not fast, this time—his thrusts are agonizingly slow and tortuously deep—just as you think it’s all entirely too much, one hand grips your clothed tit, the other lifts to cradle your chin, forcing your lips to part open. he spits into your mouth. “swallow,” he orders.

you do.

“good girl,” he places sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw, your neck, then goes to bite at your tits. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“i thought about you too,” you admit sheepishly, out of your mind. he looks up at you, raises his eyebrows, urging you to go on. “i missed you.”

to your surprise, he scoffs. “fuckin’ bitch.” he suddenly loses the interest in being gentle with you, returning to your body rough and angry. his fingers massage against your clit, unraveling you. “you’re just as crazy as i am, you know that? running around town like you don’t belong to me. like you don’t touch yourself late at night thinking about this cock. wishing those fingers were half as good as mine, huh? fuckin’ idiot.”

“luigi,” you cry out. was this him being nice?

“be a good girl f’me,” he grunts. he feels you pulse around his cock and drives into you with even more force. “cum all over me, baby. have my fuckin’ kids.”

“luigi,” you mewl again, desperate for release.

“come on, pretty, show me how good it feels.”

his lips return to yours, hot wet and desperate, as he cums inside of you. you’re a complete mess—squirming and whimpering as you unravel onto his cock, he catches your moans with kisses and leaves you shaking underneath him.

“good girl,” he hums, kissing your forehead.

for a fleeting moment, the two of you are perfect. everything feels just right. he slips into the spot beside you, the disarray of tangled sheets forgotten as he pulls you into his warmth. you sink into the nape of his neck, and though there are no more words spoken, the air is thick with an undeniable love, quiet but all encompassing.

but when he stirs awake, reaching for you, all that lingers is the soft, fading smell of your spring perfume.

send requests ! <3

[supermenz]

one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

next | series masterlist

Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life. 

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter. 

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either. 

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same. 

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman. 

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying. 

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too. 

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him. 

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises’ site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.  

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did. 

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen? 

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.” 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.” 

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.) 

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.” 

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?” 

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses. 

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now. 

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.” 

(He isn't sure about that.) 

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

“Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing. 

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life. 

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.” 

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside. 

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.” 

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out. 

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed. 

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out. 

Still, something’s missing. 

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be. 

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk. 

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.” 

[nanamincreampie]

A Christmas to Remember

Geto Suguru x Black plus size reader

Warnings: Nipple play( kinda??), pussy-eating, missionary, mating press

The snow falls softly outside the cabin, blanketing the world in silence and serenity. Inside, the scent of pine from the Christmas tree mingles with the rich aroma of hot cocoa, creating the perfect holiday atmosphere. You and Geto sit by the fire, a cozy blanket draped over your legs as you admire the warm glow of the lights adorning the tree.

“Can you believe I found that tree myself?” Geto says, a proud smirk tugging at his lips.

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Found it? You mean you pointed to the nearest one and had me do half the decorating?”

He chuckles, leaning closer to press a kiss to your temple. “Guilty. But you’ve got the better eye for it, anyway. Look at how perfect it turned out.”

Your heart warms at his words, the affection in his tone as undeniable as the soft look in his eyes. The past year has been long and hard, filled with challenges and sacrifices, but here, in this secluded cabin with Geto by your side, all of that feels like a distant memory.

You exchange small, thoughtful gifts as the fire crackles and the snow falls outside. Geto’s gift is a delicate necklace with a charm shaped like a snowflake, which takes your breath away.

“It reminded me of you,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Beautiful, unique, and something I never want to lose.”

Your chest tightens with emotion, and you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. “You’re too much, Suguru,” you whisper, your voice thick with affection.

“Not nearly enough,” he murmurs back, his arms tightening around you.

The evening flows seamlessly, filled with quiet laughter, shared memories, and tender moments. As the night deepens, the firelight casting golden hues across the room, Geto leans closer, his hand brushing yours.

“You know,” he begins, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone, “this year wouldn’t have been the same without you. I’m not great with words, but... I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

His honesty catches you off guard, and you find yourself speechless for a moment. He takes your hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I want to show you,” he whispers, his eyes dark with intent.

The atmosphere shifts the warmth between you taking on a new intensity. He moves closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens.

His lips are on you immediately, starting at the delicate curve of your neck and trailing down with slow, open-mouthed kisses. His hands move expertly, slipping under your sweater to glide over your skin, his touch sending sparks of heat coursing through your body. When he pulls the shirt over your head, he pauses, his gaze roaming appreciatively over your bare torso.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing over your chest before leaning down to take one nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls over the sensitive bud, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you gasp, while his other hand rolls the other nipple between his fingers. The sharp pull of pleasure makes your back arch, and Geto chuckles softly against your skin.

“Sensitive tonight, aren’t we?” he teases, his lips trailing lower.

When his hands move to your pants, he takes his time, unbuttoning them with a deliberate slowness that has you writhing beneath him. He slides them down, pressing kisses to the newly exposed skin of your hips and thighs, until you’re left in nothing but your underwear.

He presses his mouth against the thin fabric of your panties, his warm breath sending a shiver through you. “You’re already so wet,” he remarks, his voice full of praise. “I’ve barely even started.”

Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he pulls them down and discards them, his gaze darkening as he takes in the sight of you bare before him. “So perfect,” he murmurs, his hands parting your thighs to settle between them.

His tongue is warm and soft as it drags through your folds, the sensation making you gasp and clutch at his hair. Geto starts slow, savoring the taste of you, his tongue exploring every inch of your heat. When he finally wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently, your hips jerk against his mouth, but his strong hands hold you firmly in place.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating against you as his fingers slide inside you with a smooth, practiced motion. He curls them just right, pressing against the spot that has your toes curling and your breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Let me hear you, sweetheart,” he urges, his tongue flicking over your clit in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

The combination is overwhelming. His name spills from your lips in a breathless moan as your body tightens under his ministrations. He presses harder, his fingers moving faster, and the coil of pleasure deep in your belly snaps.

The release is explosive your thighs tremble as a gush of warmth surges from you, coating his hand and chin. You gasp, your body jerking uncontrollably, and Geto groans in satisfaction, his lips never leaving you as he works you through the aftershocks.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with pride and desire. “You’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”

When you’re finally still, he wipes his chin with the back of his hand, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he kisses his way back up your body. His lips capture yours, letting you taste yourself as he presses his length against you, the hardness of him igniting the fire in your belly all over again.

He doesn’t rush as he enters you, his gaze fixed on yours, his forehead resting against yours as he stretches you open inch by inch. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice rough with restraint. “So tight, so perfect, just for me.”

He starts slow, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that leaves you breathless. But when he shifts your legs, hooking them over his shoulders and pressing your knees close to your chest in a perfect mating press, the angle has you crying out his name.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with affection and lust. His hand finds your clit again, rubbing in tight circles that send shockwaves through your overstimulated body. “You can give me one more, can’t you?”

You nod frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure builds again, sharper and more intense this time. His thrusts grow deeper, more deliberate, as he coaxes you toward another release. When it hits, it’s even more powerful than the last, your body trembling uncontrollably as another gush escapes you, soaking the rug beneath you.

“Fuck,” Geto groans, his hips stuttering as he feels your walls clench around him. The sight of you falling apart beneath him pushes him over the edge, and he buries himself deep inside you, his release spilling into you as his name tumbles from your lips in a breathless chant.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms as the fire crackles softly in the background. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re everything to me,” he murmurs, his voice filled with love. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

And as you lay together under the glow of the Christmas tree, your bodies tangled and your hearts full, you know this moment will stay with you forever.

[theartofcollapse]

Hello, I really love all your work! ❤️❤️ Was wondering if I can request R x Casey Novak where r is kinda hesitant getting into a relationship with her cause her job? Maybe happy ending just cause it is Christmas 😂

a/n: thank you so much. I hope you like this one as well🤍 i'm taking requests, so feel free to leave a message :) summary: read above pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.5K

masterlist

Legal Bindings - Casey Novak

Casey and you first met when you were called as a witness for one of Casey’s cases. You worked as a social worker, and your testimony had been crucial in securing a conviction. After the trial, Casey had approached you to thank you personally, and what started as a professional conversation quickly turned into something more.

You’d been casually dating for about two months, sharing coffee dates, occasional dinners, late night conversations on the phone, romantic walks at night around Central Park.

You’ve always admired Casey’s passion and dedication as an ADA, but getting close to someone whose job constantly exposed them to darkness was daunting, especially when that someone was Casey Novak, fierce, relentless, and prone to putting her job above all else.

The low hum of conversation filled the cozy coffee shop as you sat across from Casey, stirring your latte absentmindedly. She was radiant as always, her auburn hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window, her green eyes focused entirely on you. It should’ve been comforting, flattering even, but instead, it made your stomach churn.

“You’ve been quiet,” Casey said, her voice soft yet probing. “That’s not like you.”

You shrugged, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ve just been thinking, that’s all.”

Her head tilted, concern flickering in her gaze. “About what?”

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything at all. You liked Casey, more than liked her, actually, but the reality of who she was and what she did loomed over you like a shadow. It wasn’t her fault; she was incredible. But incredible came with a price, and you weren’t sure you were ready to pay it.

“Us,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Casey leaned back in her chair, her expression shifting from concern to cautious curiosity. “What about us?”

You took a deep breath, staring down at your coffee. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Her brows furrowed, and for the first time since you’d met her, she looked genuinely taken aback. “You don’t think we’re a good idea?”

“It’s not you,” you said quickly, your words tumbling over each other. “It’s your job. The cases you handle, the hours you work, it’s a lot, Casey and I’m not sure I can handle it.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak right away. Instead, she studied you, her sharp mind clearly working to piece together what you weren’t saying outright. Finally, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“Y/N, I know my job is intense,” she said, choosing her words wisely. “But it’s also just that, a job. It doesn’t define me.”

You met her eyes, your throat tightening. “But it does affect you. You go home with the weight of those cases on your shoulders. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Casey’s expression softened, and she reached across the table to take your hand. Her touch was warm, grounding. “You don’t have to compete with anything. Yes, my job can be overwhelming, but it’s also why I need someone like you in my life. Someone who reminds me that there’s still good in the world, that it’s worth fighting for.”

You wanted to believe her. God, did you want to believe her. But the thought of late nights, missed dates, and the constant worry that her work would take too much from her - maybe even from you - kept you rooted in hesitation.

“I don’t want to lose myself in this, Casey,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

Her grip on your hand tightened, and she leaned in even closer, her eyes boring into yours. “You won’t. I won’t let that happen. And if it ever feels like too much, you can tell me. I’ll listen. I’ll do everything I can to make it work.”

The sincerity in her voice, the determination, it was almost enough to tip the scales. Almost.

“I just… I need time,” you said, pulling your hand back gently.

Casey nodded, though you could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Despite your doubts, a small part of you, a hopeful, reckless part, wanted to believe her. Because if anyone could make it work, it was Casey Novak.

You weren’t sure what made you say yes when Casey asked you to meet her again the following week. Maybe it was the way she said, “no pressure,” or maybe it was the way her voice softened, almost pleading, when she’d said, “I’d really like to see you again.”

So here you were, standing in front of her apartment door with a bottle of wine in your hand and nerves twisting in your stomach. This felt big, too big. You told yourself you could still back out, but before you could entertain the thought, the door swung open, revealing Casey in jeans and a casual sweater, a rare sight that made her look softer, more approachable.

“Hey,” she said, smiling like she’d been waiting all day for this moment. “Come on in.”

You stepped inside, noting the space. It was neat but lived-in, with books and case files stacked on her coffee table and a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of her couch. It was the kind of home that reflected someone who was always busy but tried to make the most of the little free time they had.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, leading you to the kitchen, where the faint aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air.

“You cook?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Casey chuckled, setting out plates. “I had to learn at some point. Takeout gets old fast.”

You set the wine down on the counter, watching as she moved around the kitchen with ease. It was strange seeing her like this, so relaxed and normal. You weren’t used to thinking of her that way. To you, Casey had always been larger than life, a force of nature in the courtroom, all sharp edges and fiery determination.

“You okay?” she asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Just not used to seeing this side of you.”

She smiled, handing you a glass of wine. “That’s the point, isn’t it? For you to get to know me, not just the ADA, but the person behind it.”

You took a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the way her words made your heart ache. You wanted to know her, but part of you still wasn’t sure if it was safe to let yourself fall.

Dinner was simple but delicious, and Casey kept the conversation light, asking about your day, your interests, and steering clear of anything that might remind you of her work. It was nice, easy, even, but you could tell she was holding back, trying too hard to make this comfortable for you.

Afterward, the two of you settled on the couch, a comfortable silence stretching between you as you nursed your wine.

“I meant what I said before,” Casey said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.

You turned to look at her, your brow furrowing. “About what?”

“About this,” she said, gesturing between the two of you. “I know it’s not going to be easy, and I know my job makes things complicated. But I want this. I want you. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “What if it’s not enough? What if you get so caught up in your work that there’s no room for anything else?”

Casey reached out, taking your hand in hers. “Then you call me out on it. You remind me why I’m doing this, why it’s worth fighting for. Because I promise you, Y/N, I won’t let my job take me away from the people who matter most to me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with promise. For the first time, you felt a flicker of hope, a small, fragile thing, but real nonetheless.

“Okay,” you said softly, meeting her gaze. “Let’s try.”

A slow smile spread across Casey’s face, and she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “But if it gets to be too much, I’ll tell you. And you have to listen.”

“Deal,” Casey said, her smile widening.

For the first time in weeks, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift. It wouldn’t be easy, nothing worth having ever was, but as Casey leaned closer, her lips brushing yours in a tentative, hopeful kiss, you thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

[ghostlycod]

ghost and johnny “I swear to God I’m not gay” mactavish

MDNI ; NSFW

cw: lowkey kinda coercive and dubcon but not reallyyyyyy (ok yes kinda really)

this is not proofread like at all lol

————————————————————————

it’s been three weeks in this dilapidated house, half of it a rubble of concrete, and they haven’t gotten any new orders ever since “stay put and wait for evac” and without orders they can’t leave and it’s been months on this deploy, in the fucking desert, and that new assistant price has got back at the office was driving him mad just before they left and—

and ghost is there. it’s just the two of them together and it’s like one minute soap is easing that fever that’s been burning underneath his skin by talking to ghost about how bad he wants to fuck price’s new assistant and then the next he somehow finds himself with ghost’s fist wrapped around his cock, pumping soap furiously as his precum and ghost’s spit mingle together on his length. the sound is so wet and filthy and loud in the quiet hovel they’ve made into a base. it turns his ears bright red with how utterly debauched the sounds are, how completely wrecked it’s making him, and to make the embarrassment even worse it’s his lieutenant that’s doing this to him—

“I swear ‘m not gay or anything, I’m not-“ he chokes back a sob as ghost flicks his wrist on the next upstroke. “stop it, stop it,” he’s whining desperately, yet his hips thrust back into ghost’s firm hands and soap finds his own hands bunching on ghost’s massive biceps, squeezing them and pulling him closer, noses almost touching as they both huff the same air.

“‘course you’re not.” ghost shushes him. “you just keep talkin’ ‘bout that pretty bird you wanna fuck when we get back.”

and he does, he does wanna fuck the pretty bird as soon as he gets back. pull her into the nearest supply closet or bathroom and stuff her full until she creams on his cock— only every time he thinks about his stupid cock he thinks about how good his lieutenant’s hand feels around it right now and how good the gravel in his voice sounds telling johnny, “there, just like that, that’s a good boy,” and he fucking keens.

“honestly, honestly I swear to god I’m not— stop it, ah, stop it! I’m gonna—“

the bottom of the mask comes up to reveal ghost’s scarred lips as he dips his head down, taking the tip of johnny into his warm, wet mouth.

he cums like an animal, grunting and huffing and clinging to his mate like a lifeline as the searing sensation of ghost’s hot tongue licking his tip hits him in a rush, pushing him over the edge and into pure heaven, out of him own body and floating above himself as he watches ghost suck every drop of his cum from him and swallow.

he floats back down into his body, eyes wild and breathing heavy, still clutching to ghost. he’s pulled the mask back down his face, hiding behind it once more.

“that— that was,” he can’t catch his breath.

“s’alrigh’.” ghost says quietly, rubbing his clean hand against soap’s back as he pulls him in.

“I didnae ask you to do that,” soap mumbles into ghost’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath. “I didnae ask for it. I’m not into that, I’m not.”

“Mhm,” ghost hums as soap huffs into his chest.

whatever you have to tell yourself. ghost thinks. but soap will come around. he knows he will. he’ll resist it now, but he won’t forget how it felt to cum into his mouth, to lose himself just from ghost’s hands. he’ll come back around at some point, begging for more. maybe in the showers when they get back, or in the barracks knocking on his door late at night, or in the gym after they’ve been sparring and ghost has got soap pinned beneath him, perfect for rutting their clothed cocks together until they both cum. yeah, he’ll be back like he’s addicted to it. and then ghost will make him beg for it and gag on it and take it deep. maybe he’ll even take that new, pretty little assistant too. just as a reward for his new pet’s good behavior. he’s seen her, he likes her, he wants her too. she could just become the perfect bait.

[spidersunny]

trying really hard to not be consumed by the madness

[rystiel]

idk what we’re all calling the concept of fiddlestan working together but i’m calling my version the portal partners AU 🙏🏼

[yorufi]

bingles. friend-shaped

[jester-step]

just girly things: reading batman: dark victory and feeling nauseous every time harvey dent gets mentioned 🌸🥰💕

[bjursta]

no piece of media will make me feel the same way oneshot does

[astraltravelerjayden]

What if

I like the idea of Prismo, and Scarab being latched onto each other, and rarely letting go when they get more comfortable

But what if when they have space apart like in this case they are in the same room

They are focusing on their own projects, or whatever they are doing and Prismo stops what he is doing randomly to give Scarab some quick affection

Cause I do this. I’ll be somewhat focused on something but I’ll stop for less than a minute to give my cat affection randomly, and poke her

So what if he did this. Like he kinda feels like procrastinating something, but needs to push through. So he gets randomly getting up, and walking to Scarab to like give a little kiss on the forehead, or cheek. Maybe a quick hug, and poke him a little

I just like to poke my cat sometimes. I boop her nose, poke her cheeks, poke her forehead. Earlier I poked her from her back to her head. She doesn’t get mad at me for this btw. She is very calm, loving, and lets me do a lot. I give her lots of pets

I just think it would be funny I guess if Prismo just randomly pokes Scarab a few times for no reason

[puppyeared]

Ouhhhh friendship I love friendship……..

[mars-ipan]

still insane to me how ppl pretend fatphobia is about health only to continue to be fatphobic when someone gains weight or even just looks somewhat fatter as a result of improving health

[spinetacks]

🐌 💤

[hitracks]

been thinking about how if ghost schlatt was normaler and how that would’ve gone. Drags my hand down my face . Lord Above help me