#i love the words we come up with for things

[madamechrissy]

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much mutual pining and longing, not sharing feelings. This chap- kissing, fingering, masturbation, lots of jealousyy, they're idiots in love lol, teasing, TENSION, oral (f recieving) Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad. Three parts- WC this Part- 7.6k

Songs for this - Birds of a Feather // Nonsense // Suffocate

Ty for all the love on part one!?!? I hope you all enjoy this part as well! We got one more after this <3 Comments and reblogs so appreciated always!

<<<Part One - Masterlist - Final Part (soon)

Part Two

One month of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend.

“I’m nervous about this meeting, Satoru. Are you sure I’ll do alright?” You ask softly, as you both head to the elevator, a meeting that you know Satoru has been dreading himself, with the higher ups his dad usually deals with.

“You’ll do just fine, let me do the talking, you can just look all pretty.” He takes your hand as you all get into the elevator, squeezing it warmly, and you’re dying at how good that hand feels, and how good he feels, his strong arm brushing against you as you both watch the elevator doors shut.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“You could never. You’ve been a perfect wife this month, I promise.” His sweet grin, just a little crooked melts you, as you exhale in relief. “I’m getting a lot done with this, I swear… I know you probably wanna get back to normal life.”

The hurt in his words immediately makes you pull back, and Satoru curses himself, taking your hand again, as you two ride up the floors, but you pull away, shaking your head. “Are you so eager for me to go?” Your voice is quiet, trying not to reveal what that makes you feel like fully.

“What!? No, not at all. I meant… if you wanted to.” Satoru’s heart breaks when he sees your dewy eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way, I meant it may not take a year, if you wanted to…”

“I’m glad it’s helping, really.” You give him a small little smile, and Satoru can barely concentrate on what he’s here for, when he wants to wrap you in his arms, to kiss you fully, not just pecks for appearances.

And god those kisses to prove you’re together make the lines blur, makes everything so confusing and jumbled for him. He’s having so much trouble remembering that it’s for show, when you all watch movies at night still, when you both have dinner together, when you’re washing dishes side by side. When you’re having coffee on his balcony in the morning.

The one thing that keeps it ‘fake’ is the separate rooms, but the amount of times Satoru has played with himself in the room next to yours has gotten insane, the number of showers he has to take so he hopes you won’t hear him. Lately, he’s backed off just a bit, for his own sanity, so it hurts less when this is over.

“Toru, wanna watch the show tonight?” You ask, wearing one of his big tee shirts, it swamps you completely, tempting him to no end, thinking of slipping it up just so…

Shit.

“Nah, sorry not tonight. I’ve got work to do.” He says, hating the little down turn of your lips.

“How late, I can wait!”

“Um… yeah I wouldn’t wait up.” You blink then, wondering have you gotten too comfortable with him? Have you been acting too much like a wife at home? You can’t help but enjoy him, enjoy your time together, are you overwhelming him with it all?

“Oh. Um, okay. Good night, then.” You smile sadly, aching to kiss him good night, knowing you shouldn’t want it, knowing you shouldn’t be desiring him right next to you, snuggling on that couch. God you’d love him in your bed even, holding you so close against him.

“Good night, sweets.” He murmurs, softly, not wanting you to think that you were the problem, no the problem is him.

He can’t stop picturing how every corner and nook in his huge home will be so very empty when you’re gone.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, not one thing, I swear you’re playing this perfectly. And I really appreciate you, yeah?” He says, but it’s not what you want to hear, because you’re not playing, not really, it’s just too fucking easy.

“Yeah, we got this.” You kiss his cheek softly, the friendly way you used to, as you all walk through the sliding doors where everyone is, all old men aside from a couple younger people scattered in seats in a row.

You tense, so he squeezes your hand, smiling at you, an upturn to pink lips as a room full of old money assesses you both, trying to reassure you. “Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, please have a seat.”

You nervously sit next to Satoru across from them now, your legs crossing as he casually leans back, one arm around the back of your seat, an ankle crossed over his knee, sunglasses right on his face. He’s so at ease, or so it seems, you are certainly learning more and more that Satoru tends to hide much of his anxiety with cracking jokes and sarcasm.

“Ah, the oldies, how goes it?”

“Ahem, oldies?” A blonde man raises a brow, and Satoru scoffs.

“You might as well be, Zenin. Old ass mentality.”

“Satoru, how is your father?” Asks an older man from another high company that works with the Gojos, Mr. Gakuganji.

“Ya really hoping he pulls through hmm? Even if so, he’s already appointed me, so don’t get too excited.” Satoru has an easy grin, fingertips brushing against your bare arm, leaning closer to you. “You’ve all met the wife?”

“Not all of us.” A pretty woman with long blue braids smiles at you. “Heard of her though, hello Mrs. Gojo. Mei Mei. Apparently so old.”

“Hello Mei Mei.” You greet with a small smile, looking at them all. “It’s going to be a pleasure to work with you all, I am sure.”

“Isn’t she just charming?” Mr. Naoya Zenin says, you feel Gojo’s fingers tighten in response.

“She is lovely.” Mei agrees, predatory smiles on both of their lips.

“Enough with the greetings, Gojo, you've made a lot of changes to this company in a quick manner.” Now Yaga, a tall imposing man that owns much of the shares of the company, speaks.

“Sure have, Yaga. Aw, mad you all got pay cuts? Poor things. Don’t worry, gave your extra to the employees.” Gojo says with a big white grin, earning the glares of everyone in the room.

“You’re not some Robin Hood.” An older man of the Kamo family says, raising a brow at Gojo, who chuckles.

“No, sure am not, I’m still rich and so are you all, just a little more evened out, wouldn’t you say, sweetheart?” He looks to you, tilting down his glasses, and you take a breath, putting a hand on his thigh, silently supporting him.

“Employees are going to work harder and stay longer with better pay and better conditions, and cutting just a bit off the top accomplishes that.” You say, voice strong and clear as a bell, making Satoru so proud he can’t stand it, smiling big at you as the room collectively grumbles.

“You’re not the only one with interest in this company. What does your father think of this?” One of the older men asks.

“It’s my company already, it’s about to be official soon. So don’t worry.” Satoru says with ease. “Also, my wife was talking.”

“Your wife is certainly… hmm, very pretty, but a commoner.” Naoya says, earning Gojo standing up, chair screeching back.

“The fuck you say!?”

“Satoru…” You lean forward, touching his arm, looking at his furious stance as the room shifts.

“How is she a commoner? You’d be lucky to lick the ground she fucking walks on ya know that?”

“She’s clearly not a commoner, but… she’s not “rich" is what he means. She has no concept of wealth.” Mei says, and Naoya stands now as well, glaring right over at Satoru.

 “She’s rich now, she’s my fucking wife.” The words feel so real from his infuriated voice that you can’t even separate it anymore, if this is some act you will just play right into it, even if it hurts. Him defending you is raw, you feel his fury next to him, trying to calm him and failing.

“It’s fine, baby.” You murmur, and hearing it, this little pet name from you? He immediately looks down, seeing your eyes wide with worry, he sighs now, sitting next to you, exhaling when you brush a hand up and down his back, then you look at the room. “I was not rich, no.”

“Your family was cut off for this sort of behavior. Is that what you want again, want for your children?” Mr. Gakuganji asks, a tired voice breaking through.

“I know better than anyone in this room what it’s like to live on a normal, even low income. Would you not welcome the insight, or are you so above caring about the people who line your pockets?” You demand softly, raising a brow, Satoru watches now as you proceed to wreck them.

He watches you debate them, raising each of them this point and that, and watches them all falter under a pretty little thing like you, usually soft spoken and sweet, but you have no problem decimating a room of them like it’s nothing. You smile so pretty at them all, bat your lashes and they land argument after argument, bouncing off what Gojo says.

Gojo is chuckling after about twenty minutes, as they seem to really think he couldn’t fuck them all if he felt like it. “What you’re forgetting, is I’m the highest up there is here.”

“Your father-”

“My father trusts me to take over. Plain and simple, are there going to be any problems? Millions not enough for you all, need golden toilets for your asses?” You barely hold in the snort of laughter, eyes bright as you watch him continue to disgruntle the room, until they finally let up.

Naoya walks up to you, eyeing you up and down as Satoru is talking to Yaga, who seems to be one of the more laid back of them all, his hands in his pockets, light brown eyes lit up. You tense at his gaze, feeling it like a slimy, disgusting touch, making you almost sick. You’re trembling as his eyes dissect you.

“Conveniently, he gets a bride the moment everyone pushes him.” He says with a nasty smirk, brushing a tendril of your hair back. “Don’t buy it.”

“Well, we’ve been in love forever, I assure you.” You say quietly, he hums to himself, when Mei walks over, and damn this woman just saunters, truly, hands on her curved hips.

“It’s so odd indeed, out of a list of so many eligible ladies. Was it true love, I wonder?” She taps her chin curiously, Satoru sees you then, coming by your side immediately, and arm around your waist.

Is he being a protective best friend or…

More.

Is this all just for show, as he pulls you to his side so possessively, making your pulse race, your body reacting as you look up at his face, and he’s scowling at the both of them. “Everything alright, sweets?”

“Yes, they were wishing us the best, weren’t you both?” You say, earning Naoya’s glare and Mei’s smirk.

“Indeed we were, we’ll see you at the auction I imagine?” Mei says, eyeing Satoru now.

“We’ll be there, of course. But for now, hmm…” He tilts your chin up, kissing you in a room full of people who want to hurt him, and hurt you, a protectiveness he’s always had for you becoming so intense it’s hard for him to function, he’d literally take down anyone and everyone that would dare say one thing to you even.

Your lips are sweet, so sweet, as you lean up and kiss him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and that same electricity sparks, even with all their seedy eyes on the two of you. He pulls back, looking at your lips, as you look into his eyes, already dilated and dark, when he clears his throat, smirking up at the shocked gazes.

“Are we all done here?” He asks, and then proceeds to take you out of that room, you finally catch a breath in the elevator, and Satoru grins at you, cupping your face with his big hands, bending down.

“Holy shit.” You murmur, earning his chuckle.

“You were amazing! How dumb am I telling you - look pretty and let me talk- shit I think it was the opposite?”

“No way…”

“Yes way. That was sexy.” He hums, you’re both giggling a bit, but you’re close, too close, and his thumb is brushing your lower lip, sending desire straight through to your tummy.

“I thought you were mad at me.” You whisper then, earning his smile turning down at the corners, his eyes a little distant and hazy.

“I could never be.”

The elevator doors open, the two of you walk out of the sliding glass doors of the enormous building, and you are trying not to touch the lips he just had, trying not to think of just how good they felt. The driver pulls up and you get into the car, Satoru slides in next to you, far too close, you inhale his cologne, you still taste him on your lips, like torture.

“I’m not mad at you.” He says again, you blink a bit, taking a breath, before looking up at him as the car drives onto the highway, gently moving underneath you both.

“You turned down movies for days. You won’t eat dinner with me. I get you’re busy, I really do, but I enjoy it, spending time. I’m… lonely without you? I know that sounds so silly, I’m sorry. Shit.” You cover your face, hating the pathetic words spilling from your lips. “You’re probably sick of all this time, even as a best friend.”

That’s not it.

God that’s not it.

It’s just when he’s next to you all he can think of is fucking you, or making you cum all over his mouth, his fingers. He can’t stand how good you smell, how good you feel, he melts over your pretty smiles and giggles, he can’t stand how deeply he is starting to feel. The three times you all have kissed for publicity it took everything in him not to drag you home.

How does he just shut it off, the ability to kiss you when he wants? And now you’re lonely, you’re hurting, not even able to look at him when he gently pulls down your hands by your wrists. “Look at me.” He murmurs softly.

You do then, and he sees it, tears swimming. “Sorry I’m too emotional.” You whisper then, embarrassed.

“No, I’m being an ass.”

You let out a little laugh. “No, Satoru just distant, and I didn’t know if I fucked something up, the day in your office?”

“No, no. Please, I swear it’s not that… I’ve been in my head.” He mutters, unable to express it truly.

“I get it, you have a lot going on. I want to be here for you.”

“You are.” He’s brushing your hair back softly, leaning down, resting his head against yours, it’s too intimate then, the words on the tip of your tongue, that you feel more than you should, but you try to swallow them. “You’re amazing, you made them all look so stupid.”

“No…”

“Yes. You surprised me, I never have seen you like that.”

“Sexy, you said hmm.” You tease, but he’s serious then, as your breaths mingle, and he’s leaning even closer, wreaking havoc on your every sense.

“God yes, you’re sexy like that.”

“Satoru… it’s too much.” You whisper, as his hand rests on your thigh, and he feels it, how hot you are, earning his eyes shutting, trying to not let it affect him and failing. “I haven’t… I’m really…”

“Been a while, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck you.” You don’t move his hand when he slips it up higher, in fact your thighs spread just a bit, his little moan making more wetness start to drool from your aching pussy.

“I take up all your time, you can’t date, why not let me take care of you?” He acts as if he can handle anyone ever touching you, the thought alone makes him feral, want to fucking claim you as his own, to devour you senseless. He tries to be teasing, casual, watching your breath catch, your pupils dilate.

“Wh-what!?” Your lips part, and his desperate blue gaze is so intense it’s hard to look at.

“Let me make you cum, sweetheart, hmm? It’s the least I can do, I’m taking up all of you, I am sure it’s been a bit.” You gulp nervously. “You’re not a…”

“No, no, not a virgin Toru, just I didn’t like it.” You admit softly.

“At all?” He whispers, frowning just a bit, before he feels your inner thigh with his thumb, finding you hot and sticky, making you gasp. “Who sucked that bad?”

“You don’t know him. But I didn’t like getting…”

“Fingered?”

“That, not at all, um the times it happened were uncomfortable. So don’t try, it won't work.” Satoru laughs then softly, shaking his head.

“I’ve never had that problem. And I would never hurt you.” His words are serious then, you gulp nervously.

“I know you wouldn’t. But it’s intimate, and it’s not for show.” Your hand clutches his blazer now, thick material in your palm when he finally touches you over your panties, making you cry out at the contact, his cock throbs in response.

“Let me just take care of you, make you feel s’good, hmm? Don’t think too much about it, just feel.” He presses kisses down the side of your neck, your free hand wraps the back of his neck, brushing over his undercut, the soft hair under your fingers like silk, when he presses his fingers over your clothed clit. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-yes.” You manage, his lips kiss and then suck at the base of your throat, when his finger slips under your panties, finding you bare, soaked, your cry is louder, when he finds your engorged little clit, feels you slippery against his long fingers.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He huffs, free hand slipping up the side of your breast while he rolls his finger in little circles, and your hips jerk, your head falling back. “She’s begging f’me to put one in.”

“You c-can try, but- ah!” Satoru sinks a long finger in you, pressing up, and you’re blinded when he finds your spot so effortlessly, leaning back to look down at your face, as it scrunches up in pleasure. “Ngh!”

“There it is, some loser couldn’t find it hmm? I’ve got you, don’t worry.” He’s pressing up again and again, the spongy spot in your gummy walls, gripping him so fucking tight. You hear it, the lewd sound of your squishing cunt, your eyes rolling back in your skull as he works you. “Let go, trust me.”

“It’s too much I… T-Toru…” You whisper his name, while moaning, your mouth open in this perfect O, it makes him leak precum, sticking to his boxers as your thighs spread for him, as you trust him, your eyes lidded. “More.”

“More?” He repeats, speechless for a moment as you’re leaning forward, your lips just a breath away.

“Please, it’s s’good Toru.” Your little plea destroys the last fighting brain cell he has, he’s slipping one more in you, making you pulse around the thick invasion, curling them up and sinking them inside you, to the knuckle, while you moan against his lips. “F-fuck… oh my god what…”

“That’s it, fuckin’ feel her, grippin’ me.” He’s fucking his fingers into you, wishing they were his cock, and you’re soaking his hand, your cunt drooling when he shoves them in deep, thumb pression on your clit, making you shatter. “There you go, sweetheart, that’s it, s’pretty like this.”

You’re cumming all over your best friend/fake husband’s talented fingers, nearly crying at how good the release feels, pulsing all around him, hands clinging to his jacket, hopelessly wrinkling the material, all while he watches you. Your mind goes blank, pleasure is the only thing you can focus on, as he eases his strokes, and you both are panting in the quiet car.

Satoru eases his fingers out, putting them to his lips and sucking now, moaning when he tastes you, and your mouth drops in shock. “T-Toru…”

“Fuck.” He’s kissing you then, your slick all over his lips as he presses your back against the seat, and your thighs shake, sensitive from cumming so hard, you can barely focus on anything but your throbbing pussy.

“Please.” You whisper again, as he yanks his cock out, right in the back of the car, and you reach down, stroking it, his eyes shut as he whimpers, Satoru Gojo whimpers, over you touching his pretty pink tip, swirling that precum.

“Wanna taste you first.” He huffs, kissing down your throat when the car comes to a halt, yanking at your dress, pressing hungry kisses on your breasts.

“What are we… Toru what’re we d-doing, fuck!” You’re whining out when he’s biting at your nipple over your bra, your hands yank on his hair, hips arching, feeling his length on your inner thigh.

“M’gonna-”

“Mr. Gojo, we’re here.” His driver infuriates him now, Satoru leans up, breaths heavy as he’s leaned over you, looking at your already fucked out eyes.

“We almost… we… y-you…” You are stuttering, suddenly so nervous, so overwhelmed. “Is this just you helping me out? Is it-”

“Mr. Gojo-”

“Ijichi, I’ll fucking kill you.” He mutters angrily, quieting his driver quickly, as he adjusts himself and then you, and you’re sitting up, blushing as he fixes your panties, fingers covered still in your slick. He sucks them again further making your tummy flutter, tighten, your heart pounding out of your chest. “God you taste yummy, the fuck, how does someone taste this good.”

“You tasted me? Twice!?” He smirks now, easing you to sit, tilting up your chin now.

“Not fully.”

“Fully!? Is this what friends do?”

“Well I sure don’t want you doing this with anyone else.” He glares now, jaw locking, making you gasp.

“What now?”

“No one else can do that to you.” His lips gently kiss yours, you taste yourself on them again, but you shove at him now, glaring.

“What do you even mean, no one else? You think you have some freakish claim on me now?”

“I know you came so hard you soaked my fucking backseats, hmm?” He whispers, you roll your eyes now, eagerly getting out of the car.

“You’re insane, Satoru.”

“You clearly like it.” You scoff, body shaking, legs literally wobbly, you try to ignore them as you stride up to the front of Satoru’s fancy doors, and walk in quickly, as he follows you with long strides, calling your name.

“That was fingering as a friend!?”

“No… it was…” He wants to say it then, you’re literally his fucking wife, even if it’s pretend, he can’t think of anything he wants more than you, to be inside you.

“Almost fucked me as a friend? Satoru, I can't do that.”

“I know, I didn’t… I just…” You’re turning away, if you look into those blue eyes too long you won’t be able to breathe, to exist, every inch of your body dying for more. “You loved it.”

You scowl as he smirks. “You’re a conceited little shit, just like when we met! Swear to god.”

“You’re still shaking.” He says, eyes raking over you, you gasp.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“If you want to, say the word.” He murmurs, leaning against your doorway, and you roll your eyes.

“No way, I’m going to bed early. Good night.” You shut the door right in his face, sliding down it, head in your hands.

What the heck even was that.

Five weeks of being ‘fake married’ to your best friend, Satoru Gojo

Satoru and you were barely talking this entire week, you’re so furious with his cocky, conceited attitude, and the fact that he’s entirely right. Nothing felt that good, no one felt like just his fingers had, how he found you, how he looked at you. Now for the past week every night you’ve done the one thing you said you wouldn’t do.

Touch yourself to the memory.

You’re rolling your fingers on your clit, whining his name in a breathy whisper the morning of the charity auction, covering your mouth with your free hand as you realize that you’ve done it, that you’ve said his name, all while cumming all over your little fingers, which don’t even come close to his, lengthy and thick, the rough pads of his thumbs.

And you could fuck him, you know you could, but you also know what it will mean, there is no friends after that, kissing alone has made things impossible for you both. And Satoru is doing the most amazing things, you’re so proud of him already, and don’t ever want to lose him. But now he’s in your head, making you absolutely insane with want, with need, with desire.

Now you can’t even think of him without picturing his cheeks hollowing as he sucked your wetness off, picturing his head between your thighs, things you shouldn’t, and it’s like he knows. He smirks at you just so, lazy lidded eyes draping down your frame every morning, every night, making sure to constantly have a hand on you in public.

He was making you lose it, and he knew it.

Your stupid little fingers can’t do shit, in fact they frustrate you more, but it’d be a cold day in hell before you ask him for any help. In fact you realize the game he plays when he walks around in his boxers, when he does push ups in the middle of the living room with one arm, like he’s showing off, smirking when he catches you watching him, in your moments of weakness.

It would be so easy to fall into his bed, but to think of ruining your friendship terrified you, to think of the feelings you know would be unleashed like some fucking flood gate was too much. You never have been able to be casual, you’re not even interested in someone without feelings, and you’re slowly realizing that those feelings when you were younger never went away.

They’re just more intense now, living with him, with this unspoken tension in the air, every breath you take you can practically taste him, every time you watch his fingers slipping around the rim of his cup you remember them in you. As you see the clear bulge in his boxers you remember touching him, remember wanting to taste that precum on his tip.

The worst part is he looks so knowingly at you, so sure you’d probably beg for him, you’re sure many, many women do. But despite knowing Satoru to be a bit of a ladies man, you’ve not seen a single one here since you’ve lived here, not seen him go on a single date. You’re not sure if you could handle it, despite acting so very nonchalant about it.

But you have no claim over him, this was just convenience, every bit of the arrangement. Your new car, no more debt, helping Satoru do what he needed to, you all are a perfect team even with the added tension of your pussy constantly throbbing around said best friend. Surely it wasn’t worth ruining, complicating, just to feel that pleasure he brings.

As you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup, you nervously step out of the room, into Gojo’s spacious foyer, where he’s turned around, a dark blue suit adorning his body like a glove. He hears your heels click on the marble floor below and turns, his lips parting as he studies you.

The red dress hugs every line and curve of your pretty body, the bold shade making your skin pop so pretty, it looks so smooth he aches to caress you, every bit of you. You are biting your lower lip nervously, looking up at him from across the room as you stand there, looking so beautiful his pulse races.

This week has been torture for Satoru, he wants to tell you then, that he feels so much more than he even knows how to convey, that it wasn’t just ‘getting a friend off’ it was such a joke, he can’t even understand how you believe that. He can’t get the sweetness of your pussy off his goddamn mind, he’d do just about anything to taste it again.

He’s even eyed your panties in the hamper. He's so pathetic and desperate for you, but he’s tried to keep some semblance of composure, to act unbothered, so scared to ruin your relationship. He knows how much you sacrificed just coming here, sure he’s helping you, but you uprooted everything, you acted perfect at every function, you stood up for him at every meeting.

You are the perfect wife.

Pretend wife.

Pretend, pretend, pretend.

He keeps repeating it like a mantra in his head, brushing off the moment in the back of the car as maybe you just needed to cum, maybe it was just that for you, but something about how your eyes met his, has him desperately pumping his cock, hearing your soft whimpers at night. He knows you’re touching yourself, he wishes he could see it, watch it, take over.

Instead he’s stuck endlessly jerking it to his best friend/fake wife, ignoring any girl that even texts him because they just aren’t you. They could care less he’s ‘married’ everyone just wants a piece of him, everyone but you. You just are there for him, with him, by his side, you’d have done this for nothing in return. You’re becoming everything to him so fast it’s terrifying.

The magnification of feelings he’s had for you over so many years is overwhelming, being near you, smelling your sweet scent, hearing you hum as you cook with your earbuds in, your nervous habits. How you twirl your hair, how you tilt your head, how you tremble just a bit when he holds you for the cameras, how you sigh sweetly as he kisses you for show.

You can’t fake that, he knows you’re affected too.

But he doesn’t know if it’s what he feels for you.

He’s stammering like a teenager at prom, but prom pales in comparison to seeing you now, how the diamonds glitter off your neck and delicate wrists, how he can picture fucking you with just that on. Your cheeks are decorated with that pretty color as you handle his wordless scrutiny, teeth releasing your lip when he comes closer, he brushes a thumb across the indentations left.

You gasp, eyes shooting up to his, as the electric current of his touch rocks through you. “You always bite it, stop. Gonna hurt it.” He says, voice husky, eyes hungry as he looms over you in the quiet, elegant room.

“Do I always?” You whisper, and he nods, brushing his thumb over it again, as if to soothe it.

“Mmhmm, gonna cut up such pretty lips.” His voice drops another octave as one of your hand grips his wrist, and you ache for him to kiss you, to press you against one of these cream colored walls and pound into you.

Stop that!?

You clear your throat, taking a breath and then plastering on a little smile. “You look handsome tonight, blue is your color.”

“Red is yours, clearly.” He brushes a bit of hair back off your bare shoulders, two fingers gently running down the strap, watching the network of goosebumps spread, your heart is racing at the contact. Your urge to yank him by his skinny black tie and slam his lips to yours tempts you to no end.

“Thank you for this dress, and the jewelry. Stop getting me more.” Your little glare just makes him grin.

“At the auction you can get whatever you want, so you know.”

“No way, it’ll all be overpriced.”

“It’s charity, baby. Hmm, should we practice kissing more?” He asks, and you smack his hand away, glaring as he chuckles.

“We’ve had lots of practice, let’s go.”

You all are arm in arm as the cameras flash so brightly later that night when you both step out of the car, so much so they hurt your head, but you hold onto Gojo’s arm, as he guides you through, grinning and answering every question effortlessly. “Why the shades at night, Mr. Gojo?”

“Your bright ass cameras hurt my pretty baby blues.” He teases with a pout, earning the laughter there.

“And what’s this talk of major changes in the Gojo corporation?” Another reporter asks, Satoru chuckles then.

“Ah, well these old geezers needed some revamping is all. Right, pookie?” He asks you, and you smile up at him, then at the cameras.

“Satoru knows what’s best for the company and his employees, his changes are going to only make everyone more profitable.” Satoru watches you answer their questions left and right, enamored more and more by you.

“Are you trying for a baby, Mrs. Gojo?” Someone asks then, and you heat up at the question, at the image that flashes in your head.

Gojo breeding you.

So vivid you feel like you’re there, him murmuring a ‘let me fill you, sweetheart, have you so full of my babies’ and pumping over you. You almost faint it’s so real, and you have no clue what has come over you. You don’t think like that!? You’ve never done shit like that… you…

“We’re enjoying each other a lot right now, but it’ll happen I’m sure, when we’re ready. We’re a little consumed with each other.” Satoru answers now, breaking through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you look up at him, lips parted, as he completely saves you, you’ve frozen on the spot. “Right sweetheart?”

“Right.” You clear your throat, shaking your head then. “We are very much in love, and enjoying our alone time, but we’d both love a baby.” You say, and you hate how real it is.

He hates how he can picture you now, full mating press, as he fucks one load of cum into your pussy, and then another, watching it all pool out. Fuck he’d watch your tummy get so full of him. The thoughts of getting you pregnant make him feral then, he can hardly stand there as he just stares at you, and you at him.

You don’t get your best friend/fake wife pregnant.

Do you?

The auction continues, fancy and expensive items for filthy rich people, Gojo detests it more than even you do, though you’d never know with how he plays the room. You see Mei and Naoya again, laughing about something in this creepy way that makes you shiver. When Gojo is mingling while you're having a seat, you see a pretty brunette girl talking to him closely.

Why does it make you feel so sick to see him, you don’t know. You’ve watched him date, and he’s watched you, but something about living with him, about this enormous glinting rock on your finger really messes with you. His grin glinting under glittering chandeliers of this enormous auction room, another woman coming up, surely he runs in their circles.

You try not to focus on that, it’s not as if you have given Gojo a hint that you want more, and do you? Do you want to cross that line? If something doesn’t work, it’s not a fight between friends, it’s the end of everything, and isn’t having Gojo with you somewhat better than not at all?

“You look like you hate this, huh doll?” You hear then, looking up to see a dark haired man, grinning down at you, he’s handsome in a rugged way, not pretty like Satoru, but something appealing. A scar on his lip as he chuckles, gesturing around you both. “Bunch of rich assholes, huh?”

“Shh!” You giggle though, looking around, nodding.

“Knew it.”

“So what’re you doing here?” You ask quietly, he grimaces, running a hand through inky locks.

“Got a fuckin job to do, what about you?” You gesture to Satoru then, who’s glaring right at you both.

“I’m married to Gojo.”

“Ah shit, I’m too late.” You blush a bit at the attention, Satoru has a girl who’s far too close, whispering in his ear, her hand on his shoulder, making you sick.

“Hmm.” Is all you manage, looking back up at the man. “What is your name?”

“Toji Zenin. Yeah, I know, the name… but fuck them.”

“You are different.” You murmur softly, tilting your head to the side, he brushes his fingers then across your thigh subtly, your jaw clenches a bit.

“If I was with you I sure wouldn’t be over there with snobby bitches.” He says, and you don’t like it then, the jealousy in your heart as Gojo walks up suddenly, clearing his throat.

“Zenin.” He mutters, and he grins up at Gojo.

“Talking to your wife, Gojo, keeping her company y’know? Shouldn’t leave such a pretty thing so lonely.”

“You’re. In. My. Seat.” Satoru mutters, teeth clenched together, and Toji laughs with ease, taking your hand, planting a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

“See ya around, doll.” He says, patting Gojo on the shoulder, and Satoru wants to rip his fucking arm off then, as he glares down at you, sitting in the seat, but you cross your arms, looking away.

“Did he touch you?” He demands quietly, you frown then.

“He was nice, I mean he-”

“Nice!? Looked like he wanted to eat you.”

“What do you care, looks like they were all over you. Oh look, they miss you, go say hi.” You say, as three girls giggle and point over at Satoru, his blue eyes narrow, leaning over you then, cupping your face with his hand.

“Think I wanted to be bombarded by flirty ass drunk women?”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you care if I do?”

“No! What do you care about me then?” You demand, whispering amongst the loud crowd of auctioneers, as they start lining pieces up for sale.

“Because he… you…” Satoru trails off, mouth opening and closing. “You are my wife right now, you know.”

“Fake wife.” You correct, seeing a vein throb in his temple.

“It doesn’t matter, how does it look when-”

“That’s what you care about, appearances? Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your precious appearance any.” You whisper, as the crowd settles, and a brilliant sapphire necklace is now on display.

“You act like you don’t care at all, I saw you.”

“So what!?”

“So why don’t you just tell me how -”

“Ten thousand, do I hear…”

“Shh.” You scowl at him, as he scowls back at you. “Maybe you should go sit with your girlfriends.”

He laughs softly, without humor. “You’re jealous.”

“Nope, you’ve always been that way. What’s surprising is not having seen a girl at the house.”

“You think I want-”

“Twenty Thousand, going once, going…”

“Want someone more your speed? Sure, I know this is just convenience, I'm not stupid.” You say, he scowls even deeper, his hand suddenly on your thigh in the darkened room, making your heart pound as it squeezes bruisingly.

“I’ll not have anyone touch you.” His words make no sense, they don’t even compute in your brain then.

“What do you care, hmm? If I did. If I was discrete. Remember?” You ask, bitingly and full of shit, and you watch the hurt in his eyes, hating yourself for a moment before his eyes turn insane, dilating until they’re almost black.

“You wanna fuck him, huh?” He demands, you scoff, shaking your head.

“You’re stupid, Satoru.”

“Me stupid!?”

“If you think that I want anyone but…” You pause then, gulping as people are starting to look, hearing your hushed arguments then, and you stand angrily, stomping off until you hit the bathroom, splashing water on your neck, trying to pull yourself together.

You almost said it.

You’ll never want anyone but Satoru, your best friend, and you never have, fuck you probably never will, and it’s terrifying you. When the door shuts and he’s there, chest heaving, you turn away, tears pricking your eyes. “Just go away, fuck it’s the ladies room.”

“You’re mad at me for talking to women at an event?”

“You’re mad at me for talking to someone at an event?”

Yes, fuck yes he’s furious that man got near you.

That maybe you’d want someone else, more than him.

He steps closer, hands on your shoulders now. ““You gonna be mad when I fuck someone in my room, huh?”

You freeze, turning and glaring up at him then. “I hear you jerk off every night, so what’s the difference?”

Satoru looms even closer, you feel his breath hit your lips, making your tummy clench at the thoughts of him. “And I hear you moan as you play with your little clit, ya frustrated your tiny fingers don’t hit?”

“Oh fuck you!” You turn now, shoving at him, chest heaving, but he pulls you to him, pressing you against the bathroom counter, glittering and ridiculously opulent, hands shaking when they’re on your waist.

“You should just ask for help, sounds like you can’t cum.” Satoru whispers, earning a smack on the face that makes him smirk.

“Maybe you should ask me, how many times do you need to jerk off a night, huh Toru?” Satoru’s laughing then, insanity, his cheek decorated with red from your little hand print.

“At least I make myself cum.”

“Fuck you, I’m over this. I’ll take the opposite side of the house, won’t have to hear your moans.”

“Good, won’t hear your pathetic whimpers.”

“Good!”

“Good!” You both stand there, him bent over, barring you with his arms. “Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“Nope, just annoyed with you. Over you, Mr. never has on a fucking shirt!”

“Good, I’m done, Miss walks around in slutty panties!”

“Ugh!” You shove at him again, until he’s slamming his lips on yours, and then you’re lifted like you’re nothing, when his tongue slips in your mouth, and you’re clinging to him eagerly, as he sits you on the sink, hungrily shoving up your red dress. “You’re gonna rip it, shit!”

“I’ll buy you twenty more, just shut up.” You go to retort when he’s kissing you again, deeper now, and you’re crying out right in a bathroom, knowing anyone could walk in, only serving to make your cunt dripping wet, when he finds it he moans, pulling back and staring at you. “Why are you so beautiful?”

You can’t speak then, you’re lost in him, in his blue eyes and his pink lips, in his big hands all over you, his whispering words crushing any resolve you try to have. You lose all reason then, as your head falls back as he kisses up your throat, and you’re gushing down his fingers, remembering their shape and feel as they tease your entrance.

“Please, Satoru…”

“Why are you so sweet now, huh? Where’s your attitude?” He murmurs, but you’re arching up, whining as he stares at you so hungry. “Should fuck that attitude out of you.”

“Please…” You whisper again, when Satoru bends down, his head between your thighs, and stares right at your glittering pussy.

“Oh my god, she’s s’fuckin pretty…” He murmurs then, licking a stripe up your slit that has you crying out into your hand, thighs shaking as he groans at finally being able to taste you. “S’yummy mmm…”

“Toru…what’re you-ah!” You’re covering your mouth again as he laps at your cunt, his nose bumping your sensitive clit, and you’re dripping down his face, hand finding purchase in his silken white hair, gripping it.

“Gonna lick this attitude out of you.” He whispers, as your sweet nectar pours down his mouth, his hands spreading your plump lips, fucking you with his tongue then, your head smacks the wall, nearly sobbing it feels so good. “No one’s licked it, have they, baby?” You shake your head. “Good, s’all mine, huh?”

“All… y-you… Toru what are- mnh!” He’s yanking you to him by your hips, devouring you now, unlike anything you’ve ever felt, having you close so fast it’s embarrassing, tongue dancing and delving between your folds, drinking you up loud and wanton in this bathroom.

“F-fuck….” He’s achingly hard now, cock throbbing, tip of his tongue circling your little clit as he spreads you wide, looking at your perfect pretty pussy.

“You’re just… looking at it…” You manage to whisper, and he’s chuckling now, leaning over you, sinking two fingers inside, making your eyes roll back, so sensitive you’re about to cum right then and there. “Imagining it dripping out cum, sweetheart, that’s all.”

Your brain short circuits. “With cum!?”

“Mmm.” He’s not using words anymore, not when he’s picking you up, planting your heeled feet back on the bathroom floor, turning you to face the mirror. He’s lifting that dress up higher and bending down, pressing against you, finally he’s lost it, so drunk off your pussy, he can’t take it anymore.

“Satoru, you’re insane, what are you…”His cock springs out, heavy and aching with need, as he bends you over, one hand on his cock, the other, wrapping your pretty little throat, as your eyes catch his in the mirror, glassy and dilated.

“Next time he or anyone talks to you, it’ll be with my cum dripping out of your pretty little pussy.”

Hehe last part coming soon, don't worrry <3 (I'm mean and leave ya'll on cliffhangers I KNOW)

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Rest in the reblog <3

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"BIRDS OF A FEATHER"

Yall I am literally sleep deprived and I'm 90 percent sure im gonna fail my math exam. I wrote this to try and calm down but I feel like it sucks. I literally spent like 3 hours on this so be nice pls. Lmk what you think and if you have any questions! Send in asks! Love yall! Thank you for supporting my trash writing LMAO.

Prologue:,Chapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4:

The moment you stepped off the plane, a strange sense of dread washed over you. Gotham City. The place you had spent years trying to fit in. Here you were again, bound by some invisible force to the very people you had spent your life chasing after. "The Batfamily". The same family who had neglected you for years. Who had hurt you emotionally, time and time again, making you feel small and invisible. Making you feel worthless. And yet, now, they all seemed desperate to make things right. To make up for replacing you with Traitor Tiffany. Tiffany who stole your life, who copied everything you said and did to a T.

Tiffany who they loved for that year before she was exposed.

You were going to ignore them. For the next two weeks, you would just do your best to make it through, keeping your distance and focusing on the countdown to when you'd be back at boarding school in New York. That was your escape, your sanctuary.

But as you entered the manor, the familiar echo of its grand hall made you feel a strange weight in your chest. The vast space, once cold and intimidating, now felt like it was closing in on you. The walls, the grand staircase, and even the ancient floors seemed to watch you.

You barely had time to drop your bags in the entryway before you were ambushed by them. All of them.

“Hey!” Dick’s voice was light and cheerful, far too cheerful considering everything. You didn’t even look up at him, not even when he wrapped you in a tight hug. You didn't bother hugging him back. You weren’t sure if it was because you were tired, or because you just didn’t feel like dealing with his overbearing presence, but you kept your focus on your phone, fingers tapping away as you scrolled through messages from Ariel, Claire, and Rory

“You’re coming back in 2 weeks right? imy alr” “NYC is lame as fuck w out u. come back now.” “Call me literally everyday. two weeks is wayyyyy too long”

They didn’t know about this—your insanely weird family of spandex wearing losers. They didn’t know about Tiffany, or the spy drama, or how everything had shifted when you were 15 or that you were technically half snake. All they knew was that you were just you, and they loved you for it. This summer was the highlight of your life.

And now, here you were, trapped with them for two weeks, trying to figure out how to survive without completely losing your mind.

“Hey, kid” Dick repeated, taking a step closer, his words coming out strangely awkward and nervous. Good, he should be nervous. “come on. Let’s grab breakfast, yeah? You can’t be all that hungry, but we are. It’s family time. You wouldn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at you like you were a little kid.

You felt your lip curl into a slight frown, but you kept your eyes on your phone. Since when did this whole family breakfast include you?All you wanted to do right now was sleep. “I’m good. Not hungry.”

Bruce appeared from the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway before you saw his face. The expression on his face wasn’t the cold indifference you remembered. It was warm. Too warm. He tried to hug you, but you quickly dodged him like he had the cooties. He took it like a champ, brushed it off and acted like he was reaching for your Goyard.

“(Y/N),” he said quietly, like he was trying to be gentle. "We’re having breakfast together. You don’t want to miss out on the family time. It’s important that we all reconnect.”

You didn’t even look up at him. You could practically feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Reconnect? How could they possibly want to “reconnect” after all the years of neglect? The years of pretending you didn’t exist?

“I’m just fine here,” you muttered, fingers still flying across the screen as you tried to walk up the stairs.

Bruce didn’t take the hint. “Come on. You should eat something. It’s good for you.”

You wanted to snap at him, tell him you were tired of being treated like a child. But you didn’t. You were too tired for all that. Instead, you sighed. "I said I’m fine. I ate on the plane.”

Jason’s voice cut through the tension, his ever-present smirk on his face as he sauntered into the room, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. "Damn, it’s already this bad?" He raised an eyebrow at Bruce, then smirked at you. “Come on, little bird, you’re too grown up for us now, huh? Don’t you want to at least pretend to like us? Have too much fun over in St. Tropez? Too cool to hang out with your big brother?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, suddenly annoyed. "Actually, yeah. Ya'll are lowkey losers." You were harsher than necessary but you wanted to make sure Jason got the hint. Make it known you haven't really forgiven him.

They were all obviously taken aback by your new attitude and mean girl habits, all too shocked to say anything.

Tim followed behind Jason, his ever-curious eyes flicking from you to Bruce, then to Dick. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just shrugged, settling into a lean against the wall.

“You don’t have to join us, but it’s not like you have a choice,” he added, his voice calm but firm, like he was waiting for you to push back. “We’re not letting you hide in your room forever.”

You scoffed, "So i don't have a choice. Bit of a contradiction there, smartass."

Your sure you heard Bruce mutter something about language but Tim simply side-eyed you and brushed it off, his confidence unwavering.

Cass entered next, moving quietly, as always. But her gaze, there was something in it. A kind of quiet insistence, like she wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away unnoticed. You’d always hated how silent she was, how intense her focus could be.

“Breakfast,” she said, her tone not quite a question, not quite a statement. It was just her way of saying we’re doing this, whether you want to or not.

You groaned, slumping a little as you looked up from your phone. “I’m literally only here for two weeks. I don’t need to sit with you guys at every meal. That's so lame.”

At that, Bruce stepped closer. His hand rested on your shoulder, a touch so gentle you barely felt it, but the weight of it was enough to make your heart skip. “You’re staying here for two weeks, and we’re all going to make the most of this time,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re part of this family. And that means we all spend time together. You don’t get to hide anymore.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, and you could feel the heat of everyone’s attention on you. They were all looking at you—waiting for you to say something, do something. It was unsettling. Unbearable.

You finally snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just want to talk to my friends, okay?” You waved your phone at them. “We were actually having a conversation before all of you interrupted.”

A soft laugh escaped Damian's lips, but it wasn’t kind. “You’ve got better things to do than talk to those people. You have to make up for your misconduct from last time. And tell us what you did while in St. Tropez.” There he goes again, speaking like an 80 year old man.

You felt a sudden wave of unease as you glanced at him, then at Jason and Tim. They both seemed to be looking at your phone with a sharp intensity. What was that about?

You tried to ignore it. You had to. But the more you looked at your friends’ messages, the more you realized that even your phone couldn’t offer you peace here. Bruce was standing too close. Dick’s eyes wouldn’t leave you. Tim was still leaning against the wall, his gaze locked on you with that knowing, calculating look that made your stomach twist.

Jason finally broke the silence with a lazy, teasing grin. “Don’t be a brat. You don’t need to text anyone right now, you've been gone two months. You've got me now.”

You rolled your eyes again and you couldn't stop the words from slipping out, "Oh yeah jason? How long have i got you for? Till some shiny new sister comes in? Or will you expire before that? Do I get you for 2 weeks or 3 or-"

Jason's face fell, he obviously thought he was forgiven just because of your conversation the night before you left and because you replied to his messages occasionally.

Bruce stepped forward cutting you off, taking pity on jason, "Enough. I understand your frustration, but we are trying. Let us try before you shut us out." He said his tone stern, he was demanding a chance to redeem himself, not asking.

Before you could protest, Damian spoke up, his voice still a bit too soft for comfort. “You will stay here with us. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you.”

Punk. If he was a normal kid brother, you would've long made him stop talking to you like that.

You gritted your teeth, fangs coming out and stood up from the couch, locking your phone and stuffing it into your pocket. “Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go to breakfast. But don’t expect me to start liking all this.”

Bruce smiled, just slightly. It was subtle, but there was something behind it. Something that made your skin crawl.

“Good,” he said, his voice almost too soothing. “We’re all here for you now.”

You walked toward the dining room with Bruce close behind you, his hand on your lower back as if ensuring you wouldn't runaway, a small, constant pressure that felt both grounding and suffocating. You wanted to shrug it off, but the thought of doing that in front of the others was too much. The others who were still watching, still waiting. You could almost feel their eyes on you like they were tracking your every movement, waiting for any sign of resistance.

As you passed through the grand entryway, you could hear Alfred’s familiar voice calling from the kitchen, his tone as warm and fatherly as ever. “Ah, there you are, Young Miss. I’ve made your favorite this morning. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and Pancakes” He turned to face you with a soft smile, but it faltered when he noticed the scowl on your face. “I hope you’re feeling well. It’s important that you eat something substantial, especially after a long flight.”

You nodded noncommittally, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Alfred. I’m not really hungry, though…”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see it,” Alfred said with a knowing wink. “Come now, don’t make me chase you down for a seat.”

He motioned for you to sit at the table. Dick, already seated with a glass of juice, grinned at you like you were a little kid being coaxed into something.

“Come on, just sit,” he said, motioning to the empty chair next to him. “It’ll be fun. It’s family time, remember?”

You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. It was suffocating. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to play along with their sudden act of being a family after years of neglect. But you knew if you didn’t sit, if you didn’t comply in some way, they would only dig in their heels harder.

You sat down, pulling your chair in with a slight sigh. You didn’t want to, but it felt like the lesser of two evils. Jason gave you a little smirk from across the table, while Tim and Damian were already deeply engaged in a quiet conversation, glancing at you occasionally as if waiting to see how you'd react.

He spoke again, voice bright, like he was trying to lift the mood. "So, … what’s new with you? I bet you’ve been busy, huh? Euro summer? Did you have fun?" He smiled at you, but there was something in his eyes, something that lingered a little too long, like he was waiting for a response he had already anticipated.

You felt like a child that stole cookies from the cookie jar, "Yeah pretty fun. Didn't do much though." You shrugged trying to sound casual.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, the others falling into place around you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost searching, before he turned his attention to the food. He wasn’t pushing, not yet. But there was a quiet, insistent presence in the way he looked at you.

“You know, (Y/N), it’s not just about the food. It’s about spending time together,” Bruce said, the softness in his voice unusual, almost too gentle for someone like him. “This is important. It’s part of being a family. We’ve missed you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t know what to say. It all felt so fake. The kindness, the attempts to bond—it was all wrapped up in a layer of suffocating control.

Dick spoke again, trying to make you crack, to bring out the oversharer in you he remembered, "Any plans? Got anything to do?"

You shrugged, offering him only a brief glance before focusing on your plate. "Nothing much. Just school stuff."

"School stuff?" Bruce’s voice cut through, the sternness returning as his eyes bore into you. "What do you mean by ‘school stuff’? You’re not getting into trouble, are you?"

Your eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was almost protective, but you didn't want that anymore. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were done with the overbearing dad act. You were 16 now—not a little girl who needed constant monitoring. You didn't need his attention, not anymore.

You picked up your fork and took a bite of the scrambled eggs, more out of habit than actual hunger. They were good, just like Alfred’s cooking always was. But the taste felt like nothing in your mouth.

“I was texting my friends,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your eyes flicking to your phone where the notifications from your friends were still blowing up. “They wanted to check I got here okay. I—”

Bruce cut you off before you could say more. “We understand that, ” he said, his voice low but firm, like a quiet warning. “But right now, you’re with us. And this time, we don’t want you distracted by those friends. You were with them for 3 months. It's family time now.”

You blinked at him, feeling a little breathless at the sudden sharpness of his words. Was that... affection? It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he spoke. It made your chest tighten. There was never family time before, at least none that included you.

“Don’t be rude,” Dick interjected, his tone light but with an edge of something else. He was looking at you more seriously now, no longer the playful older brother. “You can text your friends later. But right now, you’re here with us. And you’re going to enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but your phone buzzed again in your pocket, and this time, it was an unknown number. You pulled it out reluctantly, glancing at the screen. It was a guy from your European trip, the french prince, one you had been texting occasionally during the summer.

But before you could even open the message, Damian’s sharp eyes caught sight of the name, and his expression hardened just slightly. He straightened, his voice suddenly tight. “Who is that?”

You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Nosy much? “None of your fucking business,” you snapped without thinking.

The room went quiet. Too quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, and you could feel the heat of their gazes like a thousand little pricks against your skin.

“Don’t get upset, (Y/N),” Bruce’s voice was almost soothing, but there was a new intensity to it. “We just care about you. You don’t need to talk to them all the time. You’re not going to be alone anymore.”

It wasn’t just a promise,—it was an expectation. . You realized, with growing unease, that it was a practically a threat.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Again. The sound was a welcome distraction, but you knew exactly what it was: a flood of texts from Ariel, Claire, and Rory. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you could sneak a glance without drawing too much attention. Should you risk it after what happened not even a minutes ago? But before you could decide, Bruce’s eyes locked onto yours.

“Let me see that,” he said, his voice smooth but commanding. It wasn’t a request. “Who are you talking to?”

You froze for a split second, caught off guard by his intensity. The entire table fell silent, all eyes on you. You hadn’t realized how quiet they had gotten until now.

You hesitated before responding and quickly shoved your phone out of reach. “It’s just my friends from school, the ones I spent the summer with.”

Only after you explained did you realize that you didn't owe him an explanation.

Jason raised an eyebrow, his playful tone dropping just enough to sound dangerous. “Really? Because it looks like you’re texting someone from Europe, given the country code and all.”

Your heart skipped. You had been texting Ariel, and now your friends were practically spamming you in the group chat. "The girls!!" you named it that just to be petty after leaving the one with Barbra, Cass, and Steph. You didn't even think about how it might look to the family, who had all but cornered you into their web of attention. You didn’t want to admit it, but now you felt the pressure. How long would they keep this up?

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you muttered, finally pulling your phone out and swiping away from the notifications, deciding to put it on Do Not Disturb around these psychos. You had a sudden, uncomfortable sense of guilt, like they were expecting you to explain yourself to them.

It was quiet and awkward for the rest of breakfast.

The morning after breakfast felt like an eternity. You had expected them to back off, to give you space after your little outburst, but no. The Batfamily had different plans. They were relentless. They didn’t just want to bond with you; they needed to bond with you. It was like a mission they had assigned themselves, as if they could somehow erase the years of neglect in just two weeks.

You knew better than to expect anything close to normal from them. But this was too much.

It started innocently enough, Bruce knocking on your room door, his usual stoic expression softening when he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, surrounded by your belongings. You had been trying to shut out the noise of the manor, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the countless texts from your guys you met and the relentless buzz of Gotham in your head.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of something in it. Concern? Hope? You didn’t want to figure it out.

“Can we talk?”

You didn’t even look up, too busy focusing on the group chat from the girls. You weren’t ready to face him. Or anyone else. Especially not after breakfast. They all thought they had it figured out.

“You can talk to me while I’m on my phone,” you said flatly. “I’m busy.”

Bruce didn’t even flinch at your indifference. He took a step inside, shutting the door behind him as he sat on the edge of your bed. His presence felt heavy, like he was trying to make himself at home in a space that wasn’t his.

“You know, we’ve missed you, these two months felt like two years” he started softly, like that would somehow change the years of absence between you two. “I know this has been hard for you, but we’re trying. I’m trying. I’m just... trying to make up for lost time.” His hand hovered over the space next to you, but you didn’t budge.

“Stop trying so hard. You’re not going to fix anything, Bruce,” you muttered, your fingers tapping away on the screen.

“I don’t need to fix anything,” His voice was gentler now. “I just want to be here for you.”

Your eyes flicked over to him, and for a moment, you saw the guilt in his eyes. He was fighting against something, holding back. He was being real, honest. But you couldn’t let it get to you.

“I don’t need you to be here,” you said, your tone icy. “I’m not some little kid who needs you hovering over me, not anymore.”

He sighed, the disappointment in his voice sharp. "I know. I know, kid. But you are my daughter. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Not again. Especially with your..... abilities.”

The words felt like bullets, it hurt, the more he spoke the more you hurt. You just wanted him to go away.

The awkward silence that followed stretched on too long. Finally, Bruce stood up. His eyes lingered on you one last time before he opened the door. “Okay, but just know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I'll always be here.”

For the next two weeks, the family got more insistent on spending time with. The only thing that kept you going was that it would be over soon, or so you thought.

Damian was always the silent observer. The kid who knew how to push all your buttons without saying a word, the little brother who constantly attacked and ridiculed you.

One evening, he shows up at your door, a subtle shift in his body language telling you something’s up. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s trying to break down the walls, bit by bit.

"Move over," he said, his voice devoid of its usual bite. Instead, it carried a strange urgency. He was holding a pillow, clutching onto it like a lifeline.

You narrowed your eyes, a growl rising in your throat. What the hell does he want now?

“No. What’s your problem?” You shot him a glare, rolling over on your bed, trying to make it clear you had no interest in him being there.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, waiting.

"Come on," he says flatly, crossing his arms, a rare hint of vulnerability in his tone. "It’s just for a little while. You used to bother me about this, don’t be so difficult now."

“Why are you always so insistent on being a brat? I've forgiven you for attacking me,” he muttered, stepping closer. “When we were younger, you always insisted on cuddling, begged for it even, always tried hugging me. You’ve grown up, yes, but that doesn’t mean things should change.”

When you refuse, Damian has none of it. He steps inside, closes the door behind him, and sits on your bed without asking. His demeanor is as sharp as ever, but his eyes flick to you constantly, waiting, hoping for some sign of compromise.

He walked toward the bed, pulling the blankets aside as if he was entitled to your space. You felt a flicker of that old resentment stir inside you, but the pressure of everything else, the family trying so hard to pretend everything was fine, Bruce’s repeated insistence on your bonding, the suffocating feeling that had followed you since you arrived, made you just want to give in.

You scoffed. “I grew up because you wouldn’t leave me alone when I was younger. You used to beat me up for trying to get close, remember? You literally threw me down a set of stairs. You never wanted to ‘bond’ then.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips twisting into a brief frown. “Because you were insufferable.” His voice softened, a little, but still cold. “But I’m not the same as I was. Neither are you.

And then, without warning, he scoots closer, his shoulders stiff, as if awaiting your wrath. You almost let out a laugh; he still hasn't realized that maybe you don't want the cuddles anymore. But his face betrays something else: a quiet desperation. You could almost feel his need for connection, like he’s trying to make up for all those years.

He shifts awkwardly, a hand touching his hair, trying to mimic what you once did: the slight tap on his shoulder, the gentle nudge. But as he waits for you to break, you just stare at him, no words exchanged.

And that’s when he did something you didn’t expect: he laid down beside you, just like when you did to him when you were younger. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even seem to care that you clearly were about to strangle him.

You went still, your heart pounding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into an uncomfortable cuddle. You wanted to push him off, but you couldn’t, not when he was being so vulnerable.

Instead, you just shut your eyes, and let the anger mix with the humiliation. You wouldn't admit it, but it felt nice.

Dick was the first to bombard you with affection every morning for two weeks straight. He’s like the human embodiment of sunshine, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his unrelenting kindness. He tries to coax you into breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinners... you name it. His tactic? Overload you with so much “family time” that eventually, you’ll give in.

He makes it a point to show you that he’s willing to work on your relationship. Every morning he’s there with a bright, goofy grin, telling you stories of his past adventures. He tries, in vain, to get you laughing with ridiculous anecdotes about the circus, Batman, and his early days in the Teen Titans. He stopped once you asked him for Connor's number and another topless picture if him.

At night, he tries to “reconnect” by suggesting game nights or silly activities like arts and crafts. “Come on, you loved painting when you were younger!” he’d say, pushing a small set of watercolor paints toward you, clearly hoping for a nostalgic response. But you’re not having it. You just roll your eyes and text your friends, but he stays close by, watching. He doesn’t pressure you, but you can feel his eyes lingering, waiting for the moment when you finally break.

But the moments are few, and even though you keep pushing him away, there’s a slight glimmer in his eyes every time he talks about when you’ll finally bond.

You avoided Duke like the plague, hiding everytime he came too close looking to hopeful. His betrayal was too fresh.

Jason tried to appeal to you in ways that are typical of him: snark, sarcasm, and outright bad-boy energy. He brings up old memories he knows you cherish, things that will make you cave. He walks around the manor like he owns the place, tossing out insults and lighthearted teasing every time you pass by. He’ll try to lure you into movie nights, always choosing the most ridiculously bad action movies, or challenge you to random things in the game room.

“Bet you can’t beat me in this game,” he’ll say, tossing a controller at you. “Come on, I’m the pro around here.”

It’s his way of bonding, of trying to “get you” in his own unique, unpredictable way. He also, strangely, gives you random moments of tenderness, moments that remind you of the old Jason, grabbing your shoulder when you least expect it, offering a smirk that’s soft when no one’s looking. But like everything else, it’s hard to believe this is real.

Your trust and abandonment issues ran too deep to believe any of them were genuine, though they all clearly were.

After a particularly annoying spat one day, where you ignored him all day, he jokingly announced, “If you didn’t have that attitude, maybe we could actually have a decent time. Just saying.”

In moments like that, you feel the thrum of tension in the air, the frustration of someone trying to connect with you and the knowledge that you're just too far gone to care right now. Now he felt how you did. Still, Jason's persisted and it’s obvious he won’t give up anytime soon.

Your entire existence had become one giant performance for them. The two weeks finally came to an end and so did your torture. You and the girls spent all night calling as you packed and they planned you a 'freedom celebration' that would start as soon as you got to Rory's house.

The two weeks really were torture, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to sleep, it was like you were the star of a reality show you never agreed to. Every time you tried to slip away, to find some peace of mind, they were there, trying to draw you back in.

Alfred had begun preparing “family dinners,” encouraging you to join in at the table, asking you questions about your life like they hadn’t been absent for years.

Dick insisted on taking you out on family outings, making sure you were included in everything from movie nights to visits to the Gotham Zoo.

Cass would show up randomly in your room with little presents, a sketchbook, or a necklace. “For you,” she’d say with her quiet smile, a silent plea for you to forgive them.

Tim’s persistent attempts to engage you in every intellectual conversation, trying to get you to talk about everything and nothing at once, began to feel like a strange form of manipulation.

And Jason? Jason kept throwing out random quips, trying so hard to get a rise out of you, until the sarcasm wore thin and left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t funny anymore.

You couldn't wait to leave.

The morning of your flight, Bruce called you into his office, a serious expression on his face. “Good Morning,” he began, his voice a little too calm. “I need to talk to you about something.”

You stared at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going back to boarding school,” he said quietly, locking eyes with you. “It’s not safe. Tiffany escaped and is working with Patience again. They’ll come for you. They’ll come for all of us.”

Your blood ran cold. Tiffany. The girl who had stolen your life. The one who had tried to replace you. The one who had made everything about her and who had tricked the Batfamily into thinking she was you. Now she was ruining your escape.

“No. I’m not staying,” you spat. “I can’t be here. I won’t be here.”

“You have to stay here,” Bruce said, his voice firm, unwavering. “For your safety.”

“You can’t do this!” you screamed, jumping up from your seat, your fangs flashing as your emotions took over. “I don’t want to stay here! I want to go back! I’ll be fine in New York! You can’t keep me here!

But Bruce wasn’t backing down. His tone remained soft, even as the finality of his words sank in. “You’re staying in Gotham. And you’ll go to Gotham Prep. It’s safer.”

“No!” You felt the weight of your anger burst out of you. The room seemed to shrink. “I’m not going to Gotham Prep. I won’t stay here. I won’t live in this—prison!”

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and angry, and you could feel the pressure building inside you, the need to break free. But as your eyes met Bruce's, you realized—he was immune. He didn’t look scared of your fangs. He didn’t fear your powers, he didn't fall into your manipulation.

You later found out from Jason that Tim and Damian had been working on a serum, after what happened with Tiffany. A serum that made them immune to your powers.

There was no escaping now, not till you were 18 and Tiffany behind bars.

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[mapis-putellas]

𝑪𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒔𝒚/𝑨.𝑹𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒐

The call came while you were halfway through folding laundry in the living room. You barely managed to grab your phone in time, Alessia’s coach’s name flashing across the screen. The moment you answered, you could tell something was wrong by the apologetic tone in her voice. She quickly explained that Alessia had hit her head during training—crashed face-first into the goalpost, of all things—and now had a rather concerning goose egg on her forehead.

“She’s… fine,” the coach reassured, though her hesitation didn’t do much to settle your nerves. “But she’s a bit dazed, and we think it’s best if someone comes to get her. Just to keep an eye on her.”

You didn’t waste any time. Within minutes, you were in the car, heading straight to the training ground. Your heart pounded as you pulled into the lot, spotting a small group of players milling about near the pitch. And then there she was, sitting on the bench with an ice pack pressed to her forehead, looking like the picture of misery.

“Baby,” you called as you hurried over, your voice tinged with both worry and affection.

Alessia glanced up, her pout almost comically exaggerated as her big blue eyes met yours. “Hi, love,” she mumbled, her words slightly slurred, though that could have been the pout.

You crouched in front of her, gently prying the ice pack away to inspect the damage. The large bump on her forehead was impossible to miss, and you winced at the sight of it. “Oh, Lessi girl, what did you do?” you murmured, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said defensively, her voice soft and a little sheepish. “The post came out of nowhere.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, though you quickly sobered when she winced, clearly still in pain. “Alright, let’s get you home. Can you stand?”

She nodded, but as soon as she got to her feet, she swayed slightly, her hand clutching your arm for balance. “Might need a little help,” she admitted, her cheeks tinged pink.

You wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her to the car while murmuring reassurances. Once you got her settled into the passenger seat, you buckled her in, pressing a kiss to her cheek as you rounded the car to the drivers side.

“I feel stupid,” she mumbled as you started the car.

“Don’t,” you said firmly, glancing over at her. “You’re not stupid, baby. Just a little clumsy. But I already knew that.”

She huffed out a laugh, though it was short-lived as she winced again. You reached over to squeeze her hand that was resting limply on her thigh, your thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “We’ll get you home, showered, and comfortable, okay? You’ll be alright.”

Alessia nods, letting out a quiet sigh as she leans her head back against the headrest of her seat. You squeeze her hand once more before putting both hands back on the wheel.

By the time you got her home and inside, Alessia was practically clinging to you, her pout firmly in place. She had every right to be feeling sorry for herself; concussions weren’t exactly fun. After helping her kick off her trainers and shrug out of her training kit and dumping them in a corner to be dealt with later, you led her to the bathroom, keeping a firm grip on her arm in case she lost her balance.

“You’re coming in with me, right?” she asked, her voice small as she looked at you with those wide, pleading eyes that always made your heart melt.

“Of course, baby,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple, just next to the goose egg, before turning on the shower. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Once the water was warm enough, you helped her step in, stripping off yourself and following after her, keeping your hands on waist her to steady her. She leaned into you immediately, her arms wrapping around your waist as the water cascaded over both of you.

“You’re too good to me,” she mumbled against your shoulder, her voice muffled by your skin.

“You’d do the same for me,” you replied, running your hands over her back in soothing circles. Alessia hummed in agreement, and you feel her lips press against your neck in a gentle kiss. You squeeze her softly in return, pressing your own lips against the wet skin of her shoulder.

After the shower, you helped her into one of your oversized t-shirts and a pair of her own shorts, the soft fabric clinging to her damp skin. She looked impossibly adorable, perched on the end of the bed, her damp hair sticking to her face as she let you fuss over her, brushing through the tangles and pressing gentle kisses to her temple every so often.

Once you were satisfied that she was comfortable, you led her to the couch, settling in first before pulling her down on top of you. Her taller frame sprawled out over yours, her head resting on your chest as she let out a content sigh. You reach for one of the blankets hung over the back of the couch to cover you both up, spending a little time in making sure Alessia was all tucked in.

“This is nice,” she murmured after a few quiet moments, her voice already heavy with sleep

“Don’t get too comfy,” you teased, pressing your lips to the top of her head as your fingers trail softly over her back beneath the shirt. “I have to wake you up every half hour, remember?”

She groaned, adjusting herself slightly so her face was buried in your neck. “That’s so annoying.”

“I know, my love,” you said with a soft laugh, craning your head and pressing a kiss to her temple as you continue with the gentle ministrations against her back. “But it’s for your own good, my clumsy girl.”

The first time you woke her, she blinked up at you with bleary eyes, her pout more pronounced than ever. “I was dreaming,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“About what?” you asked, stroking her hair gently

“About you,” she said simply, her eyes fluttering closed again

You smiled, your heart melting at her words. “Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll wake you again soon.”

The second time, she was even grumpier, swatting at your hand as you gently shook her shoulder. “Leave me alone,” she grumbled, though the slight curve of her lips betrayed her

“Not a chance,” you said, pressing a kiss to her nose. It scrunched up adorably in response, and you couldn’t help but do it again, just because.

By the third time, she was too sleepy to protest, simply nuzzling further into your chest as you murmured soft reassurances.

“I love you,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible as sleep threatened to pull her under again.

“I love you too, Lessi girl,” you whispered, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over her back.

**

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[junkieito]

Nobody asked but I decided to give some context, the whole country is mad bc that badly spoken, zero researched movie about a serious topic that features only one Mexican person is being awarded while having music that could have been written by a middle schooler.

In the beginning they talk about France showcasing places that are obviously not France while a spin-off voice narrates in horrible French.

The first musical number is a cumbia-like song that says "welcome to la france" featuring "the cheese I eat smells better than I do but my perfume makes up for it" (French people are know in LATAM for not exactly prioritizing bathing) plus some random french words

My favorite part is "VIVAN LOS PASTELES" (Pastel = cake) So, France occupied Mexico twice, the first time it was done under the pretext that french businessmen and artisans had suffered various forms of economic loss, one of them a baker that reportedly had been taken advantage of by general Santa Anna (I'm unsure if he was the president at the moment), who consumed cakes and never paid for them, which is why it became know as The Cake's war.

So basically we have the Sacreblus who run a baguette company and the Ratatouiles who run a croissant company, they are both rejected by their families for being trans but are promised the family's enterprise if they win a race and honor the family's heritage.

The scene with the Ratatouiles features:

(The dad does not favor Aghtugo because he is trans and 'doesn't have a penis' so he says any of his brothers would be a good option as well and he starts shading on them + aghtugo is how the franch would often pronounce the name arthur in spanish)

- But, Hugo is not over his "artist" phase and is addicted to paint thinner.

- Aee don onlee in'aile thinnegh, the zhelou pein gueevs mee 'appinezz

- Mario Hugo? Good luck having a twangy french man

. (Speaks actual french)

- It's impossible to understand you!

Amd

- It's not that we don't love you, it's just that we're ashamed of being related to you (:

Next scene Johanne is meeting her friend Emily... in Paris lol. They have an exchange and they mock the fact she's privileged and comes from a wealthy family and has no real problems but winning the race. The "french waiter" comes and then this exchange happens-

- Is that it or would you like anything else?

- That's it.

-Yes that's it... or maybe I'd also like to or-

- You said that was it. (Takes menu away) You must learn to abide by your word! (Rudely)

- Hey, what a great customer service!

- I know! The best in all of France!

We are mentioned for the second time that Johanne was sent to Mexico and she says she now does not understand some french things like the lack of kindness, animal cruelty practices and hatred of muslims. Then a sequence ensues where she just says "have you ever thought what we do is wrong?" and her friend magically agrees drowning birds in cognac is a cruel practice

- I feel so dirty now! I even want to take a shower!

- I knew I wasn't just crazy!

- I just never thought what we did was wrong somehow, I always though those minimum wage skin colored people liked how we treated them!

We learn that Johanne was sent to Mexico because she has hallucinations of Marie Antoinette which she denies saying it is the real ghost of her. Then she appears saying racist stuff about Emily.

- Don't listen to her! She has the fashion sense of a guatemalan (derogative)

Then ladybug is presenting the race and the first one is won by Johanne (they celebrate by throwing rats at her ). There is a number imitating "Soy Emilia Pereeez una mujer mexicanaaa que merece respetoooo" in black and white about "The trash man", after that we see Aghturo and Johanne are trying to solve their differences and Aghtugo ends up convincing Johanne to let him win the second part of the race so it is even and nobody wins.

- Baguette may only be bread but croissants are France itself! It's in our veins, in our wine, in the air we breathe!

Afterwards Aghtugo says to Johanne:

A: You only say that because you've been outside of France for too long, you're now but a Chimichanga* lover!

J: (Visibly offended) ?Cinco de mayo!

A: How dare you! (Slaps her)

*mexican dish

Ok this is because cinco de mayo commemorates La batalla de Puebla which was a battle we won against the french during the Second French Intervention. Sppiler alert we lost the war and they put an Habsburg as Emperor backed by Napoleon III.|

So in the end the competition is even but the french overlords say it an't be even, there must me a baguette battle-to-death.

* What is that?

* A battle where they fight each other to death... with baguettes!

* (Fake surprise)

Another scene ensues where Aghtugo magically thinks some practices are bad after Johannes says so literally.

By this point Johanne convinces Aghtugo of not fighting to death but an evil ambassador appears and hurts Aghtugo and tells them they must fight to death, it is discovered he acted like that bc he was controlled by a rat and he is defeated somehow (didn't get that part). The Johanne is being interviewed (her description reads "bored millionaire" )

This final part features the dialogue:

"Being controlled by a rat! The worst nightmare of any french-man!"

And then she says that to end the interview her mexican friends told her to gift them something specal which turns out to be a cake and the final scene shows her about to throw it into the guy's face.

Obscure reference but the thinner guy very ad hoc smells a rat at some point which is a reference to an obscure urban tale in mexico called la rata con thinner, which i don't wanna explain you don't wanna look up

Ithe filming credits reads "directed by: someone with adhd'

Et la voilà, c'est la fin.

Merci de ne jamais faire un autre truc comme ça svp

wait a bunch of ppl ( in mexico i belive) got togheter and made a mini movie where everyone is poorly pretending to be french in retaliation for the dogshit emilia perez musical this is awesome tjhey all have little mustaches drawn on with sharpie and are spealing the worst french ever

[lostinlovingrevery]

Pine-Scented Soap

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: i just love trilogy logan

Plot: You take a shower, and Logan joins you

Warnings: SMUT 18+!!, and fluff :), fingering, handjob, (is that considered mutual masterbation? IDK), some choking, slight breast play, scenting? is that a thing? It wasn't the goal but i wrote it anyway, Logan being a menace and sneaking in the shower. Smut first, fluff after

Word Count: 1356

Hot water ran down your head, over your face and down your back, and down to the drain at the bottom of the porcelain tub. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging the windows of the sliding glass door of the tub, and the mirror. 

Your eyes were closed as you washed your hair, performing you usual routine. Soapy bubbles painted your wet skin, slowly washing off as you rubbed your hands over your body with a bar of soap now. Something pine-scented, a bar of soap you actually got for someone else. 

Your hand ran down you arm, scrubbing it clean from the day you had, when you felt a second hand on your shoulder, almost ghost-like in the the way the fingers travel over your collarbone and then up your neck, softly resting there, as you felt a warm body press into your back. 

Now, how did he manage to sneak in without being noticed?

“Logan.”

Your voice held a warning- yet playful tone. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, softly tilting your head to the side. He brought his cheek against yours, his beard softly tickling at your skin, as you felt his other hand slide onto your hips and up your soapy torso.

“Yeah bub?” He answers lowly. Turning his head, where his nose brushed against your cheek. You carefully opened your eyes, and once you didn’t feel the soap burning your eyes, your rolled them as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“What are you doing?” You muttered, as his hand came up and traced over one of your breasts. 

“What?” He feigns innocence. “Just helping ya get clean sweetheart. You think I have less than innocent intentions for you?” His hand came back down over your neck, gently squeezing the flesh, and you could barely suppress your amusement. His hand cupped your breast, thumb rubbing over your peaked nipple. The slipperyness of the soap and water combined made the simple movement rush over your body, as you felt heat grow between your thighs. 

You felt him tip your head back onto his shoulder, his nose coming down to your neck and taking a deep inhale. “Mm.” 

“What?” You whispered.

“You smell like me.” He groans. He always had a thing about that, you smelling like him. Something possessive you didn’t quite understand.

“I’m using your soap.” You giggled. 

“Lil thief.” He grunted, he kept his free hand over your neck. His hand fondled your breasts, soap making things slippery, the heat of the shower making things intense. 

His hand ran down your torso and between your thighs, his fingers finding home between your folds. His rough calluses began pressing and circling over your bud, causing you to spread your thighs wider, in attempt to get more friction from him. 

“Lo, you think we could ever shower normally?”

“Normally? You saying this ain’t normal between us bub?” He says, a teasing edge in his voice. “Besides, don’t act like you don’t like it.” He growls into your ear, before nipping at your earlobe. 

He was right. Technically your normal was him and you getting it on in the shower. If you weren’t, there would be something terribly wrong. Logan loved showering with you, and at first you thought it was cute, possibly a bonding thing between you. Now though you’re pretty sure it’s because he gets a ticket to seeing the naked lady, and the easy access. You didn’t mind, you liked it to, just like you like giving him a little grief over it every single time just to see him beg- just a little.

His ministrations over your clit got faster, as he used practiced techniques he’d learn over his time with you to bring you to that peak. You moaned, tipping your head back onto his shoulder. His hand tightened over your throat, creating a pressure that wasn’t intense but more grounding. He brought his lips down to the crook of your neck, pressing soft gentle kisses along your skin. 

Your breath became faster, harsher, as the steam and the pleasure began to take over you, making you light-headed and weak in the knees. You brought an arm up, hand curling into Logans hair, his brown locks just now starting to get wet from the shower. His body pressed into yours, his hard erection against your back. You reached your free hand around to grab it- eliciting a groan from him as you began to stroke him. 

“C’mon baby.” He purrs, his voice tittering between controlled and a whine. With the wetness of the shower and your hand combined, your hand stroking him picked up pace. He let out a grunt when you brought your hand into a fist over his tip, thumb rubbing over his slit, pre-cum leaking out furiously over each stroke.

 Your hips involuntarily began thrusting with Logans fingers working over you- as your thighs trembled and you began to reach your peak. Logans breathing becomes harder as you matched his speed. Small whines and grunts escaping him as his hand grew tighter over your throat.

“Fuck- doing good baby- c’mon cum for me.” He moans into your ear. “You’re such a good girl, letting me do this to you- look at you-”

His praise was the final blow that sent you over edge. Your back arched, as waves of pleasure coursed through your veins, your abused clit throbbing as Logan continued working you through your orgasm. Your fist pumped him furiously, working on some sort of auto-pilot as you saw spots in your vision- unable to focus really on anything but Logans fingers. 

A loud curse escaped him, as he opened his mouth and bit down on your shoulder, a low moan vibrating against you as you felt something warm splash onto your back and cover your hand, his dick throbbing with each splurt of cum coming out of him. His hand loosened over your neck, and you attempted to catch your breath, still holding his softening cock in your hand. 

“Bleh-” You heard Logan groan, and you turned look at him cringing in disgust, licking his lips and shaking his head, his hand coming up to wipe his lips.

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“Got soap in my mouth when I bit you.” He mutters. You grinned and giggled and he smiled at your mirth, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his. 

“You’re a goof.” 

“Yeah.” He says. “I’m yours though, ain’t that right?” 

“Mhm.” You hummed with a smile, looking into his hazel eyes with fondness. “Okay, time to clean you up.” You inform him, moving to grab your shampoo bottle, and squeezing a generous amount onto your hand and reaching up to begin shampooing his hair. He tipped his head down a little bit to help you accurately scrub his scalp.

“That’s not my shampoo by the way.” He says with a raised brow, looking at you.

“I know- But if I get to smell like you, with your soap. You get to smell like me.” 

He chuckled. “A’ight, I get to smell like…” He picked up the shampoo bottle, reading the name off it. “Blushing peonies….Manly.” He nods, a purse of his lips confirming it. You giggle, turning him around and tipping his head back, so you can start washing the shampoo out of his hair. 

Once thoroughly washed, you spun him back around, and began washing him with your body wash - something called ‘Pink sugar’ that smelled like vanilla and flowers. Logan didn’t complain though, as your hands ran up and down his body in massaging motions. He tipped his head back, a deep exhale escaping him, and when you finished lathering him up, your arms wrapped around his waist, as you pressed yourself up against him- looking up at him cheekily.  He looked down at you, a look of amusement, and love. On his face. You aren’t quite sure how you and Logan managed to get here, with everything you both been through together. You do know though, that you totally get it, you really enjoy him smelling like you too.

[ravens-bird]

"You really want to test me right now?" - Zayne.

Pairing: Zayne x F!Reader/MC

Tags: Boyfriend Zayne, uh not-quite-smut smut, oral F!receiving, kissing, fingering, thought of adding semi-exhibitionism, but i have no brain juice left - it's literally 3am. "Love" used as nickname

wc: 1.5k.

Note: Y'all... Guess who just had a dream and decided to write this right after 😮‍💨 Definitely not proofread 🦦 (I don't know what happened, the post got fucked zo repost)

You arrive at Akso Hospital and make your way to the receptionist’s desk, finding Yvonne sorting through paperwork.

"Hey, Yvonne. Busy day?"

She sighs, rubbing her temples—a rare display of exhaustion. You quirk a brow.

"You have no idea," she mutters. "Between the long shifts and this mountain of paperwork, I could use a vacation."

You chuckle. "I bet. Speaking of rounds, do you know where Zayne is?"

"In his office. He just finished up his last patient visit, so he should be resting right now." Then, with a knowing glint in her eyes, she adds, "But he mentioned clocking out early today. I wonder why…"

A playful smirk tugs at your lips. "I might have an idea."

She grins. "Go on, then. Before something else comes up."

You thank her, and make your way up to his office, your heart picking up speed at the thought of finally seeing him after so long.

It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Zayne—his business trip to Mt. Eternal with Dr. Noah had kept him away, and by the time he returned last night, you were already gone on a last-minute mission. This morning, he’d left for work before you even got home, and seeing him had been the only thing on your mind the whole day.

Naturally, the first thing you did after getting off work was come find him.

Stepping inside, your eyes land on him immediately.

Zayne is seated on the couch, his coat and glasses set aside, tie loosened as he leans back with his head resting against the cushions. Was he asleep?

You hesitate for a moment before softly calling his name.

He stirs, blinking up at you in surprise. That’s all the confirmation you need. In a heartbeat, you close the distance, launching yourself onto him before he can even stand.

Zayne grunts at the impact but recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around you as you settle into his lap. "You could’ve just said hello, you know."

You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling the faint, yet familiar scent of his cologne. "Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I missed you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers squeezing gently. "I missed you too." His voice is softer now, more intimate. Then, amusement flickers in his eyes. "You’re awfully energetic for someone who spent the night hunting down wanderers."

You groan against his skin. "I should just kidnap you for the weekend."

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "Oh? And do what with me, exactly?"

You pull back slightly, to playfully glare at him. Before you can speak, he lightly presses the back of your neck to bring you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“How was your day?” he asks, kneading the back of your neck gently and you melt into his touch, instantly distracted.

“Tiring, but it wasn’t as serious as Tara had made it sound,” you sigh. While the clean-up itself had been a walk in the park, the travelling had been tedious, even with the faster and advanced motorcycles from the Association.

His eyes were bright, and he was looking at you so warmly that you couldn't help but beam at him.

"Yvonne said you were clocking out early." Your fingers find the loose knot of his tie, tugging playfully. "Any particular reason?"

His gaze dips to your lips before he clears his throat. "I figured we deserved a night in."

"Mmm." You hum, letting your hand drift from his tie to his chest, feeling the steady pulse beneath your fingertips. "You’ve been gone so long, Zayne. Do you know how hard it was to sleep alone?"

His jaw tenses slightly, but instead of addressing the obvious implication in your words, he exhales slowly, as if willing himself to stay composed. "We have chamomile tea at home. Studies show it can improve sleep quality with its mild sedative effects when taken before bed."

You blink up at him. Then a slow, sly smile spreads across your lips. "Chamomile tea?" Your fingers graze the fabric of his shirt, trailing lower. "Right, but that wouldn’t help."

His brows knit slightly. "The white noise machine in the bedroom has a setting that mimics rainfall—"

"Not the same as having you next to me."

Your voice is softer this time, but there’s no mistaking the way your fingers press against his chest, the way your body leans into his just enough to make your point.

His grip tightens slightly. "We are still at the hospital," he reminds you, though his voice lacks its usual firmness. "And you're making this difficult."

You smirk, tugging the tie loose until it comes off. "Am I?" You shift just enough for him to feel the friction, watching as his breath catches. "I’m not even doing anything."

The first button of his shirt comes undone beneath your touch, your nails grazing his collarbone.

His hand snaps up suddenly, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

"You really want to test me right now?" His voice is a quiet warning, laced with something dangerous.

Your pulse spikes.

"What if I say yes?"

For a moment, he just watches you, tension coiling between you like a drawn bowstring. Then, Zayne exhales slowly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin before he tilts his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath.

There’s nothing hesitant or soft about it this time.

A small gasp escapes you, and he swallows it greedily, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, pressing you flush against him.

"You’re doing this on purpose," he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint.

You don’t deny it.

When he finally pulls away, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before he shifts beneath you, his hand trailing up your thigh and to your heat, rubbing you through the thin material of your pants.

"Zayne—" your voice hitches as his fingers press more firmly.

"Yes, love?" His tone is teasing, though his own breath is slightly uneven.

"What happened to being at the hospital?"

"You talk too much."

Before you could retort, he moves again, picking you up with startling ease and changing your positions until you're the one beneath him, pressed into the cushions. The feel of his weight against you, the press of his hips, and his growing arousal, makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

His fingers make quick work of the button of your pants after undoing your belt, pushing them down just enough before his hand dips between your thighs, his touch firm and teasing.

You suck in a sharp breath, hips jerking against his palm as he rubs you through your underwear. He watches you closely, his pupils blown wide with desire. His fingers slip beneath the last barrier of fabric. The sensation makes you whimper.

"So impatient," he speaks in a low voice, his voice a rough whisper as he presses down just right, making you arch into him.

"Zayne—"

He silences you with a heated kiss, swallowing every sound you make as he finger-fucks you. His free hand grips your hip, keeping you pinned as he builds a slow, torturous rhythm, his breath hot against your lips.

"Is this what you wanted?" His silken murmur makes you want to clench your thighs together, but he holds you in place, lips trailing down your throat. "Say it."

You barely manage to gasp out a needy "yes" before he rewards you with a deep stroke that has you trembling beneath him. His chuckle is dark, satisfied, as he continues his slow, deliberate pace, drawing every reaction from you with precise, practiced movements.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as the tension coils tight within you. You clench around his fingers, feeling the start of a wave of euphoria when he pulls his hand away, and a desperate, needy noise escapes you.

“Be patient,” he chastises, and you resist the urge to swear when he slides your pants down further, his fingers trail teasingly against your bare skin before he shifts downward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh.

A strangled moan escapes your lips as his mouth finds you, his tongue stroking in slow, deliberate patterns that have your fingers twisting in his hair, your thighs trembling around him.

Zayne works you open with his mouth and fingers, his name falling from your lips in breathless gasps as he devours you with unrelenting focus.

“That’s it, love.” The roughness of his voice was so damn sexy. “Be a good girl, and come for me.”

That finally did it.

When you finally shatter, he groans against you, holding you in place as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

As you pant, still trembling, he wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes locked onto you with something dangerously intent.

Before you can catch your breath, he’s already reaching for his belt, a wicked smirk playing at his lips. "We’re not done yet, love. You started this."

[russo-woso]

Mine || UNC!Alessia Russo x reader

Request | Masterlist

Warning smut 18+, strap on, fingering, cunnilingus

Summary Alessia gets jealous when the captain of the football team flirts with you at a party

The dorm room was lively, the beat of the music surrounding you.

Everyone had at least one red cup in their hands which was ultimately filled with some kind of alcohol.

The room was stuffy, the air hot.

Your body was sweaty and hot, but despite it all, the smile on your face was no where near close to disappearing.

“There you are!” You cheered, spotting your girlfriend on the sofa in the corner of the room.

As you approached, Alessia pulled you onto her lap, her arms wrapping securely around your waist.

“Hi baby.” You smiled, the English girl kissing lightly at your exposed shoulders - the straps of your dress having slightly slipped down your shoulders.

“Your dress is too short.” Alessia mumbled, her wandering hands moving down to your thighs.

“Lessi…” you whined

“My girl, you look so gorgeous in the dress but I want to be the only one to see your—”

“—alessia!” You exclaimed, hitting her chest as you took the last sip of whatever was in your cup. “Come, let’s dance!”

“Babe… I’ll stay here and watch you. You can give me a personal show.” She suggested with a smirk

“Alessia, please.”

“Pretty girl, you know I don’t dance.”

“Fine.”

With a scowl, you turned in the opposite direction, getting lost in the crowd of college students.

“What’s with the frown?” You heard a voice say, the voice low and masculine.

“What do you want, James?” You asked, rolling your eyes as he stepped closer.

“Isn’t this weird? Every single time I come to a party, you’re also here. And every single time, we end up bumping into each other. I’d say it’s fate.” He said, that smug smile on his face.

James was the captain of the football team and with you being the lead of the cheer team, he assumed that you were meant to be together.

“James, every time this happens I tell you the same thing. I love Alessia, not you. Just get over me will you! Just leave me alone.” You told him, raising your voice slightly.

“Come on, babe, don’t be like that.” He smirked, resting a hand on your hips which you immediately tried to push off.

“She said to leave her alone.”

“And what are you going to do about it, Russo?” James spat back, his face full of disgust as he set eyes on Alessia.

Alessia’s jaw tightened as her face turned red with anger.

In one smooth action, her fist swung, hitting James’ face.

“We’re going.” Alessia said, grabbing your hand before turning towards the door.

“What the fuck, Russo!” James shouted, holding his nose which was almost certainly broken - the tip of it pointing in a complete opposite direction.

“Good luck playing tomorrow.” You smirked, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to play.

“Fuck you, Y/N.”

“You wish.”

—

The way back to Alessia’s dorm was quiet, a lingering tension between the two of you.

“Less, I didn’t want him to talk to me. I tried to get him to go away.” You said, eventually breaking the silence as you walked through the door.

“I know, baby girl. I just wish he could understand that you’re mine. Not his. You belong to me.” Alessia whispered the last few words, her lips inching closer and closer until there were millimetres between you two.

“I’m yours, lessi.”

Alessia leaned in, connecting your lips ravenously.

The brute force of the kiss was enough to push you against the wall.

You moaned as Alessia’s tongue grazed your top palette.

Her hands sat strongly against your waist, her nails digging into the dress that clung to your body.

Your mind was everywhere.

The whole situation with James, Alessia’s lips trailing down to your neck, the grip she had on you.

Your head span as you tried to focus on one thing.

The taste of beer on Alessia’s tongue was evident, but the taste of jealousy of was more evident.

You knew she was acting like this because she got jealous.

Alessia’s lips attacked your neck with purpose, her teeth digging into your skin before her tongue soothed the sting.

“Lessi…”

“Shh baby girl, let me show you that you belong to me.”

Your head fell back against the wall at her words - them clearly having an effect on you.

She reached for the hem of your dress, her fingers pulling at the fabric before pulling it above your head.

Her lips reattached themselves to your body, this time even lower.

“Jump.” Alessia muttered, catching you effortlessly as your legs wrapped round her waist.

She carried you to her bed, placing you down before crawling on top.

“God, you look so perfect beneath me.” She breathed out whilst her hand undid your bra.

Her tongue licked over your nipple - which hardened at the contact.

“Fuck, lessi.” You moaned, grabbing at the back of her neck.

“So beautiful.” She whispered, her thumbs sliding under the waistband of your panties.

“Less… please.”

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”

“I want you to fuck me, I want your tongue.” You told her, a smirk appearing on her face as she kissed at your inner thighs.

Slowly, she slid your panties down your legs, throwing them somewhere in the room - not caring where they land.

“Spread your legs for me, baby.” She said, you instantly obliging and spreading your legs wide for her. “Good girl.”

You whined at the compliment, Alessia smirking as you did.

“Such a pretty pussy. All mine.”

“All yours, lessi.”

She groaned at your comment, her tongue flattening against your pussy, pulling a moan from your mouth.

“He doesn’t get you like I do. He doesn’t get to taste you, he doesn’t get to touch you.” She mumbled against your pussy, sending vibrations rattling across your body.

Her tongue got to work, flicking at your clit before sucking harshly at it.

You bucked your hips into her mouth, pleasure coursing through your body.

“Fuck lessi - oh god - you’re making me feel so good.” You said in between moans, gripping at her hair.

Her hands gripped your thighs to stop you from moving.

“Stay still, pretty girl.” She warned, her thumbs rubbing absentmindedly over your thighs.

Alessia added more pressure onto your clit.

She was desperate to watch you cum - Watch you cum and know that it was her that had made you cum.

“I’m so close, lessi.”

“I know, love.” She rasped out, bringing her fingers to your dripping hole.

Her middle finger pushed into your entrance with ease.

She moved her finger in and out with the same purpose as she’d started with.

Adding a second finger, she decided to start sucking on your clit again.

Soon enough, she found your sweet spot, continuously hitting it with brute strength.

“Oh my god - ‘m gonna cum lessi. Oh fuck, alessia.”

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on my fingers.” The desperation in her voice was just as evident as it was in yours.

Your jaw dropped as you screamed her name, her fingers still pumping in and out of you to get you through your orgasm.

“Oh my god.” You muttered, your chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. “That was—”

“—I’m not done with you yet. You’re gonna take my dick like a good girl.” Alessia told you, grabbing the strap front her bedside table.

You’d recently started exploring within the bedroom with toys - the strap being by far your favourite for the both of you.

With expertise, she put the harness upon herself, the silicone in between her legs.

You blushed when you saw the strap on her - there was something about it that you found so unexplainably hot.

“Remember what we spoke about?” Alessia questioned as you nodded, your voice too shaky to speak.

“Words, baby girl.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Alessia started walking towards the bed again but instead walked towards her wardrobe.

“Put this on for me, love and get on your knees.” Alessia commanded, handing her football shirt to you.

Alessia loved seeing you in her clothes but even more her shirts with her name on your back.

You did as she said, her name now sat proudly on your back as you waited for her to fuck you into space.

“Fuck.” Alessia groaned, her hand now resting on your back whilst the other lined up the tip with your entrance.

You whined as she pushed the tip in, the stretch causing a light sting.

“A little bit more, gorgeous. Such a good girl taking my cock like this. You could never take anyone else’s dick, could you? Only mine.”

“Only yours, less.”

Your words triggered something in her mind and without a second thought she started pounding in and out you.

You grabbed at the duvet cover as she thrusted in and out.

You let out a cry when the strap hit that particular spot.

Your moans were muffled due to head being buried in the bed.

“You look so fucking perfect, baby girl. Being such a good girl for me.” Alessia praised, her hands gripping your hips as she pulled you back and forth onto her cock.

“Oh my god. Fuck — Less, please don’t stop, baby. You feel so fucking good. Please don’t stop.” You babbled as the strap repeatedly hit your sweet spot.

“I won’t, pretty girl.”

Alessia continued to pound into you, her hands now moving to massage your ass.

A loud smack was heard as a bright red male appeared on your ass and despite the pain, all you could think about was the pleasure.

“Less… I’m so fucking close. Please let me cum.”

“Tell me you’re mine and then you can cum.”

“I’m yours, lessi. I’m all yours.” You cried out as Alessia lifted her leg onto the bed, thrusting even harder into you.

“Cum for me, baby girl. Cum on my dick.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, your whole body shaking as you collapsed onto the bed.

Alessia rubbed your back as she guided you through your orgasm.

“Are you okay?” Alessia whispered in your ear as she leant down next to you.

“I’m perfect.” You smiled, pecking her lips. “I think you should get jealous more often.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, pretty girl?”

“I would.” You hummed in agreement, a tired smile across your face.

“Let’s get you showered and then we can cuddle, okay?”

“Shower with me?” You asked

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

[injeolmibbingsuu]

Drunken Tendencies...

starring: svt leader and husband! seungcheol x wife! reader; member! mingyu; member! seokmin; member! woozi; member! joshua; member! minghao; member! seungkwan; member! jeonghan; member! vernon; member! hoshi

aus: fluff!!

warnings: kissing

synopsis: Y/N goes out drinking with the seventeen members... and who else would come pick her drunk self up besides her loving husband?

word count: 1172

A/N: I think we all need a whipped seungcheol to take care of us when we are drunk...

He had received a text from Mingyu.

Brother Mingyu: Hyung... you should probably come pick up your wife.

Leader Seungcheol: What happened?

Brother Mingyu: She's drunk.

Leader Seungcheol: So? She can drink.

Brother Mingyu: She's currently pouting and trying to fight Seokmin over whether or not she could beat him in an arm-wrestling match.

Leader Seungcheol: ...

Leader Seungcheol: I’m on my way.

—

When he arrived at the bar, he was met with the sight of his wife (a phrase he was still adjusting to… but loving to say). His usually composed, sharp-witted wife was leaning over the table, dramatically pouting at Seokmin, her arms crossed like a child.

“I swear I could win!” she argued, her words slightly slurred but her conviction unwavering “You’re just scared!”

Seokmin, looking both amused and slightly exasperated, raised his hands in surrender. “Y/N-ah, I promise you, I’m not scared—” 

“Then arm-wrestle me, coward!”

“Hyung, please get your wife,” Woozi called out lazily from his seat, smiling as he nursed his drink. “She’s been challenging everyone here.”

Seungcheol sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before stepping closer. “Y/N.”

The moment she turned and saw him, her frustration melted away, and instead—her face lit up like he was the best thing she had ever seen. 

“Cheollie!” Y/N squealed, suddenly all giggly and shy, covering her face with her hands before peeking at him through her fingers. “Oh my God, you’re so handsome… Who let you out looking like this?”

The members burst into laughter as Y/N wobbled to her feet, stumbling slightly before dramatically pointing at Seungcheol. “Did it hurt?”

Seungcheol blinked. “What?”

“When you fell from heaven?” She giggled, swaying on her feet. “Because you are so fine, sir.”

“This is amazing—I’m recording this,” Mingyu whispered, already holding up his phone.

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head fondly before stepping closer to Y/N, steadying her with his hands on her waist. “You’re drunk,” he said, amusement clear in his voice.

“I’m not drunk—” she paused, swaying slightly. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Y/N gasped dramatically, pressing her hands against his chest. “Wait, wait, wait—” She looked up at him with wide, dazed eyes. “Hey, are you single?”

Seungcheol nearly choked on air. “What?”

“Because I totally have a crush on you,” she whispered, blinking at him. “Like, you are so hot, I want to marry you.”

“You did marry me,” Seungcheol reminded her, exasperated but endeared.

She gasped again, this time in pure shock. “I did?! Who let me do that?!”

“You did,” Minghao answered, grinning as he sipped his drink.

“And you are very in love with him,” Joshua added helpfully.

Y/N turned back to Seungcheol, grabbing his collar and pulling him closer, her nose almost brushing his. “Oh my God. Good for me,” she whispered. “I have taste.”

Seungcheol sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist before lifting her up effortlessly. “Alright, that’s enough pick-up lines for one night—time to go home.”

As he carried her out, Y/N continued mumbling to herself, still giggling. “My husband is so hot. I’m so lucky. I should kiss him—”

“Let’s wait until we get home, yeah?”

“Wait, wait, wait—” she slurred, blinking at him with wide, glassy eyes.

He sighed, already knowing she was about to say something ridiculous. “What is it now, Y/N?”

“I just realized something super important,” she said dramatically, squeezing his cheeks so his lips puckered.

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes. “What—?”

Before he could finish, Y/N smashed a big, exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

And then another.

And another.

The members, who had stepped outside to watch, exploded into laughter.

“Oh my God, she’s attacking him!” Seungkwan shrieked, doubling over.

“This is amazing,” Hoshi gasped, pulling out his phone. “I’m never deleting this from my memory.”

"Wait, let me get the other side—" Y/N mumbled, twisting in Seungcheol’s hold to press a dozen more kisses all over his face—his forehead, his jaw, even the tip of his nose.

"Y/N—" Seungcheol tried to wriggle away, but she held onto him with an iron grip, giggling against his skin as she planted another kiss near his lips.

"Mmmwah!" she announced proudly, finally pulling back to admire her work.

Seungcheol, now thoroughly covered in bright red lipstick stains, groaned. “You’re unbelievable.”

Y/N beamed. “Now everyone knows you’re mine,” she said smugly, her drunken logic making perfect sense in her mind.

Mingyu was dying of laughter. "Hyung, you look like you just came back from war."

"A romantic war," Vernon corrected.

"Wait, Y/N-ah—give him one more on the forehead," Jeonghan encouraged.

Y/N, still giggling, leaned in and smacked a final kiss right in the center of Seungcheol’s forehead. "There! Now you look perfect!*"

He sighed, closing his eyes. "I am never picking you up from drinking again."

"Yes, you will," she whispered against his lips, grinning.

Seungcheol exhaled through his nose, his patience hanging on by a thread. "Let’s just go home before I leave you here."

As he carried her away, Y/N cuddled into his neck, still giggling. “You’re so warm, my handsome husband.”

Seokmin wiped a tear from his eye. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Seungkwan shook his head. “That was the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

—

Seungcheol barely got Y/N out of the bar before she demanded—not asked, demanded—a piggyback ride.

“Oppa! Give me a piggyback ride!!” she whined, stomping her foot like an impatient child.

Seungcheol, who was already sighing in exhaustion, turned to look at her. “Y/N, you’re drunk.”

“And you’re strong!” she countered, grinning up at him. “So be useful and carry your beautiful wife home—c’mon, c’mon!”

The members, who were still standing outside the bar, howled with laughter.

“I vote he does it,” Joshua said, crossing his arms. “It’s what a loving husband should do.”

“Yeah, Ddaddu,” Jeonghan smirked. “Don’t you love her?”

Seungcheol glared at them before looking back at Y/N, who was now fluttering her lashes at him dramatically. “Pleaaase, oppa~” she cooed, tilting her head. “You love me, right?”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply. “Get on before I change my mind.”

Before he could even bend down properly, Y/N jumped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Yay!!” she cheered, nuzzling into him. “My strong, handsome husband~”

Mingyu took his phone out. “Oh, this is going on Instagram.”

“Hyung, you’re the definition of whipped,” Seokmin teased.

“Shut up,” Seungcheol muttered, adjusting Y/N’s legs so she was secure. “I’m taking her home.”

As they walked off, Y/N swung her feet happily, her chin resting on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “You smell nice~” she murmured.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but softened. “And you smell like soju.”

“That’s because I’m a party girl, oppa.”

“You’re a handful, is what you are.”

She giggled. “But you love me~”

Seungcheol sighed but squeezed her thigh gently. “Yeah. I love you. Now hold on tight before I really drop you.”

From behind them, they could still hear the members laughing.

Tag List: @seungkwansflower!

[haedalkoo]

Jimin's thoughts are 오밀조밀

Long time no see! Today I'm bringing over a cute conversation between i-kookminers and k-kkms on Twitter. The lovely @goldenhickeysandramen sent it my way yesterday, and we woke up to replies from korean jikookers explaining the cultural context behind JK's words in a w-live. I found it so cute I couldn't not bring it to your attention here.

The first post was made by someone curious about why korean fans found this JK clip so adorable.

The phrase OP was pointing out is the following (JK's 27/03/23 live, min 51:51):

확실히 이게 사람마다 생각하는 게 많이 달라. Certainly, the way every person thinks is very different. 지민 형의 생각이 약간 오밀조밀하는 거 같아. Jimin hyung's way of thinking is a bit meticulous. 오밀조밀하다기보다 엄청 뭐라해야 될까… Well, more than meticulous, how should I say it...

(he didn't finish his thoughts LOL he went on a tangent after this :'))

The word he used to describe Jimin's way of thinking is 오밀조밀 (/oh-mil-cho-mil/). This word is a little difficult to translate because it's a 고사성어 (故事成語), aka a 4-letter-idiom that typically comes from ancient Korean literature or history.

(Before the invention of hangeul, the korean alphabet we all know, Korean used Chinese characters (also known as hanja) to transcribe Korean words and sounds. The heritage of this tradition can be found in words like this, or in the use of hanja in newspapers. Let me know if you want to know more about this!)

오밀조밀 is made up of these 4 characters: 奧密稠密.

奧 means deep, 密 means tight or dense (fun fact, it's one of the two characters that makes up the word 'secret', so it also has the meaning of 'hidden'. Secret in korean is 비밀 /bimil/ or ひみつ /himitsu/ in japanese, 秘密) and 稠 also means thick or dense.

But what does this word actually mean? Why did Jungkook using it cause so much fuzz?

Like OP and other korean fans have said, it's used to describe tightly packed, or delicate and meticulous things.

When I first saw the clip, I agreed with JK. Jimin's extreme attention to detail and delicate and catious thinking, both as an artist and a person, can surely evoke this word. I'd only ever seen that word used to describe someone's facial features, in one of those highly specific and slightly funny ways that Koreans have to compliment someone's physical traits, but I didn't think twice about JK's choice of words.

However, cultural nuance is so important and it cracked the code for me. Here's an explanation:

As you can see, the word still holds that delicate and tight meaning, but it's not used for abstract things such as thoughts. If you look up the hanja dictionary, it describes "a refined and detailed appearance regarding craftsmanship and skill/a very meticulous and detailed appearance." Synonyms include words like 'cute' and 'pretty' (아기자기 is one of them, which means small and cute, baby-like. Isn't that the most Jimin word you've ever heard??).

Like I told @goldenhickeysandramen, nobody knows (or loves) Jimin better than JK. So, yeah, of course Jungkook thinks that Jimin is 오밀조밀, despite how unconventional it may sound. Even his thoughts are pretty to him. 🥺💖

[leonastarry]

{ 11 } A Love Lost In Time. ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x lover!reader

Sung Jinwoo had spent his entire life pursuing power. It was his sole goal, his sole obsession—the need to become stronger, to survive, to protect. He had fought, bled, and sacrificed everything in pursuit of power. He had abandoned his old self, his fears, his weaknesses… and, apparently, even you.

And he didn't even realize it.

At first, you told yourself he was just busy.

Sung Jinwoo had always been diligent—pushing his limits, taking on jobs no sane hunter would accept, constantly risking his life. You understood that. You admired that about him.

So when he immediately stopped responding to your messages, you didn't think much of it.

When your call went to voicemail, you reassured yourself that he was probably training.

When nights spent talking until sunrise are reduced to short, distracting texts—"I'll call you back later," "Sorry, something came up"—you tell yourself to be patient.

But then later never come.

And there's always something more important.

At some point, the missed calls stop being accidental. At some point, the silence becomes intentional.

You're not sure exactly when you started feeling like a ghost—hovering over the edge of his life, present but invisible, waiting for a door that will never open again.

Then one day, you muster up the courage to confront him.

You find him where he used to wait for you after work. Except this time, he's not waiting. He just walked past, his mind elsewhere, his steps quick and purposeful—like he had somewhere much more important to be.

"Jinwoo."

He barely responded.

You swallowed, stepping in front of him. "Darling, can we talk?"

For a moment, just a moment, his eyes flickered over you. And in that moment, you searched for something—acknowledgement, warmth, hesitation.

But all you saw was exhaustion. Detachment. Like you were just another person, just another part of the world he no longer had time for.

"…I have things to do," he muttered. And then—he walked past you.

No goodbye. No promise to talk later.

Just silence.

And that's when you understood.

Sung Jinwoo hasn't broken up with you yet.

He just… forgot about you.

And somehow, that hurts even more.

It feels like you don't matter that much anymore.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Until now.

Until time turned back, and your voice—soft, familiar, aching, nostalgic—called his name.

"Jinwoo!"

His breath caught. Something inside him stirred, an unshakable feeling of déjà vu. But it wasn't until he turned around and saw you standing there, smiling naturally that his entire body stiffened. Memories flooded back to him all at once—memories he didn't even know he'd buried.

You were there.

You were always there.

Memories of late-night conversations under the streetlights, of your hand slipping into his without hesitation, of whispers of reassurance when the world felt too cruel. He remembered how you used to tease him when he was just an E-rank Hunter, how you were his safe place when everything seemed impossible. He remembered the warmth of your laughter, the way you always seemed to believe in him, even when he didn't believe in himself.

And then—he remembered that he had lost you.

Not because you died. Not because of some tragic accident.

But because he had forgotten you.

Because in his madness of leveling up, in his single-minded pursuit of power, he had pushed aside everything that wasn't related to survival. He had stopped answering your calls. Stopped meeting you at the coffee shop you both frequented. Stopped thinking about you.

You tried—he could remember it now, like a ghostly echo. The unread messages. The unanswered calls. The last time he saw you in the old timeline, you had reached out to him, asking if everything was okay.

And he had just walked away.

He left you, not with words, not with outright rejection, but with silence.

His stomach twisted. His throat tightened. But then, there you were, looking at him with clear, unburdened eyes, completely unaware of the weight on his chest.

Because in this timeline, you don't remember any of it.

You don't remember how he slowly drifted away, how his obsession with power erased you from his life. You don't remember how you were everything to him—before he threw it all away without a second thought.

And that's the cruelest part.

He had committed some crime that you didn't remember at all.

"Jinwoo?" you asked again, tilting your head, the way you always did when he was silent for too long. "What's wrong? You're staring."

His lips parted but no words came out.

What was he supposed to say? That he had forgotten you? That he had been so focused on power that he had let go of the only person who had always been there for him? That he had left you, and only now, standing here in a time where he still had a second chance, did he realize how unforgivably selfish he had been?

He clenched his fists.

NO.

No, he would not miss this chance.

He would not let himself forget again.

This time, he would win your love.

This time, he would never let you go again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Sung Jinwoo has been acting strange lately.

You can't pinpoint exactly when it started, but suddenly one day he's been looking at you differently. There's something heavy in his eyes whenever he looks at you, something raw and unspoken.

Guilt.

You don't understand it.

You didn't do anything wrong. He didn't do anything wrong.

But every time you smile at him, his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach out to you but can't. Every time you laugh, his jaw clenches as if it hurts him to hear it. And every time you look into his eyes, you feel the weight of something you shouldn't be carrying—something he refuses to say.

It's frustrating.

Why? Why does he look at you like that?

"Jinwoo," you call, your voice soft but steady. He stiffened, as if expecting you to ask the very question he feared.

But you didn't.

Instead, you smiled, soft and warm, reaching out to take his hand. His fingers tensed under your touch, but he didn't pull away.

"I don't know what you're feeling guilty about," you admitted, watching his throat rise and fall, his expression darkening. "I don't know what you think you did. But I do know one thing."

You squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly.

"I will always forgive you, Jinwoo."

His breathing quickened. His eyes widened with an almost desperate look.

No hesitation. No questions asked. You would forgive him—no matter what.

Because that was how much you loved him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Bonus:

Jinwoo still stared at you, his expression a jumble of emotions—guilt, relief, and something that looked like self-loathing. He squeezed your hand, and he opened his mouth, probably to say something dramatic and self-sacrificing.

But before he could, you grinned. "So… does that mean I can take your credit card?"

Jinwoo choked. "Huh?"

"You know, since you're so guilty and all," you continued, completely serious. "I feel like retail therapy might actually help me cope with whatever terrible things you think you did."

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Then, for the first time in days, you saw something other than guilt on his face—helplessness and indulgence. "…It doesn't work like that."

"That's exactly how it works," you retorted, poking his chest. "Forgiveness isn't cheap, darling. Pay up."

Jinwoo sighed wearily, rubbing his temples. "I think I like it better when you don’t know how to take advantage of me."

You smiled brightly. "Oh, but you still love me, right?"

He glanced at you, guilt temporarily replaced by fondness. His lips twitched.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I still love you."

"Great!" You patted his arm. "Now, about that credit card—"

"Yeah, you can have it. Just don't make me broke"

"Deal."

@in-dire-need-for-help I'm done !! 🎉

Feeling like I'm full of energy today .

I've written 30 short fics of Jinwoo x reader! So proud of me 😎

Anyways, thanks for 160+ followers, I love you guys 💗💗

[nashusglasses]

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦◦◦.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦ note 1. my bestie and i were talking about sylus and we came to a mutual conclusion: he's mean in bed but you're just soooo into it!!!!!! (,,>ࡇ<,,) note 2: anyway you ever just think about how he'd take care of his defiant brat??? this fic is a result of wondering how sylus would try to coax you into letting him take care of you...... but like........ meanly :3..... (spoiler: he gives into you every!!!! time!!!) drabble requests for snowcrow = OK! PAIRING. sylus/reader WARNINGS. brat tamer!sylus, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting. sylus POV SUMMARY. He just wants to make sure you're okay.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦◦◦.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“You still won’t talk to me?” He feels you huff. Five almost-orgasms in and somehow your tongue is still clipped with anger you refuse to tell him about. Sylus is almost proud that you’re so steadfast, but he knows you. You just want to be coddled. 

He can’t have that. So he slaps you hard where your clit is taut, and you shriek. “I’ll give it to you,” he says, then delivers another swift smack. You’re trembling hard in his lap, so close to coming, but he’s nowhere near thinking of forgiveness. “If you just tell me what’s wrong.”

You shake your head. “Don’ wanna.”

Sylus is sure you’re staining his silk sheets with your slick. On another night he’d hold you by the back of your neck and force you to lick it all up. Wet lips, the curl of your tongue – for a brief moment, he thinks about fucking you so hard into the mattress all you can smell is fresh sheets and your own pussy. One thing about you that he loves: your near-constant need for him to have his hands on you. 

He teases two fingers inside you, your back arching off his chest with a broken moan. When you wiggle your hips to get him deeper, he clicks his teeth.

“Don’t be greedy.” Two harsh slaps to your cunt. You whimper. “You’re doing this to yourself.”

“Am not–”

With his other hand, he pries at your chin, forcing your gaze onto his. “If you talk back one more time, you’re getting punished. Do you understand me?”

He watches you contemplate his words. Your eyes glaze over the way they do when you’re getting what you want, thrumming with a different energy when he’s goading you into obedience. Like you’d been waiting for this the whole night, and he’s almost embarrassed to be playing into your hand so easily. 

You mouth at his hand, and he lets up on his grip enough for you to tongue two fingers into spit-wet heat. Sylus tries (and fails) to hide a shiver when you suck down to his knuckles. “Mhm,” you answer quietly.

Jesus fuck. That’s not the answer he wants. But you’re hell-bent on testing him tonight, and he doesn’t think he can keep going without cracking at the edges. 

He lets you lave on his skin, teeth scratching a threat. Not hard enough for blood but enough to feel him get harder under your ass. And just as you’re about to leave a deeper indent with your canines, Sylus sinks three fingers inside your weeping hole.

Your eyes widen. He sees fear turn straight into carnal desire. “Ngh–!”

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You do exactly as you’re told, and he grabs at your cheeks to hold you still. He sucks till he’s got a wad of stringy saliva on his tongue, then spits straight down your throat. You swallow like the good girl you are, and Sylus feels every hard part of himself crumble to pieces.

He traces a slow nail down your jaw, watches you heave with every thrust he drills inside. “I want you to come,” he orders. His palm isn’t a heavy weight on your throat, but the anticipation still has you freezing. “Do not close your eyes. Understood?”

You nod. He tightens his fingers till you gasp. “Use your words,” he growls.

“I understand,” you whine, dragging into an even more pathetic sound when Sylus fingers a rhythm so harsh your legs start shaking. You’re so warm around him. He angles the heel of his palm to smack your neglected clit just how you like it, and something cruel inside him preens when your eyes roll back. “Oh fuck–!”

“Come on, sweetie,” Sylus drawls. “Eyes. On. Me.”

He beats every syllable with sticky motion, and in the corner of his vision he sees your toes curling. You struggle with hazy focus, blinking tears away. Sylus fights every instinct to console you; he knows that’s not what you need. 

“S-Sylus– I’m– God I’m–!”

He leaves a gentle kiss on your nose, and fucks you through a body-wrecking orgasm so strong you’re wailing, eyes trained right on him. Your core tightens, releases, begs, expels – his wrist is soaked. He doesn’t stop fucking you till you’re sobbing through another high.

“No more, no more, p-please,” you mutter, clawing at his hand. He’s almost sad to leave such sweet heat, but now you’re crying, and he’s got both hands cupped around your cheeks to pepper you with kisses.

(He’ll apologize for touching your face with cunt-wet fingers later.) 

“You’re amazing,” is all he says. You smile for the first time this evening. His heart squeezes.

[chevxyn]

FIRST love and first LOVE.

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, & you.

angst, fluff, childhood crush troupe, friends to lovers.

wc : 890

your FIRST love, it was sae.

he was the awakening of your love story, and your bestfriend.

you were a child, who had passion for art. you were not much older than ten when you met sae. it was when a few older boys that was at the age of twelve was bullying you. and he stood up for you, his little brother that seemed to be your age behind him.

when the two of them approached you, they were kind to hand their arms reaching for yours. that’s the first time you met them. it didn’t take long until the three of you became friends. more specifically, you and sae. rin was just kinda there since he was a little shy to you.

when you would watch them joke and play together, you would also draw the scenery around. and they would compliment you, which you would just get flustered. giving them a smile aswell as thanking them.

sae would get the two of you popsicles, and even invite you to their house. where you met their parents, and fortunately, they seem to love you too. to you, sae really was the kindest person.

the three of you would hang out at the shore, as sae would sit next to you, your heart would beat. you were a kid, you didn’t know this feeling yet. even your parents never explained it, so you never told anyone.

it’s at the shore again on the other side of the fence, the three of you have been friends for around two years now. sae explained how he’ll go away tomorrow to spain, and your heart dropped.

your bestfriend, is going away? rin didn’t expressed alot of emotions, but you were frowning. which sae took notice, “come on now, [nickname].” he said and pushed you sideways using his elbow.

“who knows? maybe you’re gonna end up big like that leonardo da vinci guy and come to spain with us.” he smirked and you let out a small chuckle, “but i promise, when we do meet up again, the three of us, will become the best in world.”

and so it was time to say goodbye to sae, it was at the airport. you had their final hug with sae. which sae gladly accepted, hugging you too before saying goodbye to his parents and rin. and this is the loss of your first love.

your first LOVE, it was rin.

he is your love story, and your darling lover.

after sae’s departure, you and rin never had a separation, dare you say, you gotten even closer. rin saw you as his other sibling. well, atleast at first.

as the two of you had gotten older, so did your feelings. rin has been increasingly gentle with you, and worked even harder to catch after sae. unfortunately, that day came.

where sae went home, the first time in a while that you met sae again, you noticed he was not like he was. he was much colder, and your heart dropped seeing him. and just a few moments after that, a fight broke out with the two brothers. it was something that you did not imagine to happen, especially when you heard him saying these words to his own little brother, “I don’t need you in my life anymore.”

after sae had left the scene, you went to rin. immediately crouching to his level, and rin was holding back tears. he was down to his knees, before you held him in your arms, hugging him.

it was after a few days, you visited rin again, where you saw him ruining the trophies that he worked so hard for. you came running to him, and calmed him down before he looked at you.

“he crushed my dreams, i’m gonna crush his.” this is not what you expected, but just nodded to him. “[name], what am i gonna do?” he said moments later, his voice more quiet and vulnerable.

few months have passed since then, and rin had grown more colder to everyone except you, and you had noticed this. you would express your concern whenever he would do stupid things, dangerous ones.

“ya know, you need to stop doing those stunts, what if you get hurt?” you said as you sighed, sitting beside him at the ground watching movies with him.

“i have you to take care of me, don’t i?” he reasoned, and you frowned at that excuse, looking at him. “i mean yeah, but,” you tried to reason, but he cuts you off. “but what? don’t you like me?” he said and you froze, huh? “you always took care and looked after me, more than my brother ever did.”

“i mean, i do like you, but-“ rin glanced at you, “but what?” you blinked, and raised your eyebrow. “[name], if it isn’t obvious with your peanut brain, i also like you.”

the world felt like it stopped at that time. as you could only see his side profile, he didn’t even bother to look at you as he confessed that. but eventually, he does and the two of you locked eyes.

his beautiful teals ones against yours, you felt your heart racing, more than ever that you can hear it beating. “do you accept me too?” he simply said, and that’s how he ended up as your first love.

©chevxyn

[in-hos-wife]

The surprise.

In-ho x pregnant! Wife! Reader

Summery: While in-ho is away at the games reader finds out she’s expecting, her head is spinning while try to figure out how to tell in-ho a man who’s lost so much so we decided to make telling him the news big

Word count: 918

Tw: mention of death and child death, age gap (readers is 28 in-ho is 49), I don’t think he act at all cannon but I could be wrong, this is my first fanfic so it most likely cringe (p.s: feel free to tell me what I can do better but please be nice)

In-ho has been away for 5 days, You know his works make him leave for around a week this time of year and abruptly for a few day every now and then but you don’t mind much you’ve got used to it you’ve been together for 2 years married for 1. do you miss him yes but he always finds ways to make it up to you for being gone. Date nights, shopping trips, even cooking your favorite food and watching your favorite show or movie while cuddling, And he’s ok that when he’s gone you have your friends over for a slumber party as long as the house isn’t a mess when he gets home, even though if it was he wouldn’t care it would show you had fun and that all he wants.

This time was going the same as normal you kissed him goodbye got set up to have some friends over and put a movie on. Then your friend was scrolling though social media when they saw this trend called pregnancy rulait where you all take a test and put it in a bowl or a hat and mix them then pick one out of it. Sense you have all been in long term relationships you and your friends went to the store and bought some boxes, you were sure the cashier gave you guys a wierd look but who cares. You all took the and put them in your old baseball cap and shook it then waited a few minutes.

After you all waited you guys, one by one pulled a test out of the hat the one negative then another the three more the there was….a positive followed by two more negative we all looked at eachother and then all took another and held onto them. When the three minutes were over you all checked and you’d was the positive brain was spiraling, in-ho just left and how would he even react you guys have talked about kids and you both want them but did you guys want them now? How would you tell him? Is he gonna take it well? You know what happened with his wife and he’s already makes sure your safe but makes sure he doesn’t get to protect he lets you go out along as he knows we’re and you keep him updated but you being pregnant might be a different story of course you can’t go out with your friends like you used to but for all you know he’ll put you in a bubble rap ball for 9 months, all you know is you’ll figure it out but you want to surprise him with it.

The past few day you’ve thought of everything balloons, just giving it to him and telling him that way, bakeing a cake all of it. You sit there looking at the date when you realize he comes home tomorrow and you still haven’t decided how your gonna tell him. You thought of a idea didn’t like it thought of a new one didn’t like that one it was the the same thing over and over, you wanted it to be perfect then you thought of it, so you got to work going to store making sure you know what dinner gonna be that night (his favorite) and slow calming music

The night he came home you were cooking dinner and had the table set very romantic when you heard the door opened you smiled “hello my love!” You said so he knew you were in the kitchen. When he got in the kitchen he was surprised to see you dressed up but he smelt what you were cooking and smiled “my love you know I like to treat you when I come home” he hold you by your waist as you cook. Your smile up at him and say “I know but I wanted to cook for you, you should go get washed up” he smiles kissing you on the cheek as he goes to shower. By the time he gets back you put dinner on plates and poured him a glass of whiskey and you some water. He sit down across from you making small talk while you both eat, when you finish eating you wait for him to also finish eating, when he does you smile at him “I have a gift for you” you say grabbing a box you hide under your chair “a gift? But i didn’t get you anything” you chuckle “you alway get me something it’s my turn now open” you hand him the box and he opens it revealing a tiny onesie with the words ‘daddy’s mini me’ on it and under the onesie is your positive pregnancy test. He takes the onesie out and reads it then looked at you confused till you point to the box again and he sees the test and a million thoughts run through his head he waits a bit before he starts speaking “when did you find out?” You answer him and he nods he looks at you and smiles “we’re gonna be parents together…us” you smile at him and you go over and hug him “your gonna be an amazing father” you say as you look up at him, he looks down at you and smiles “and your gonna be an amazing mother” as he say that you both share a quick kiss and go cuddle on the couch leave the dishes till tomorrow.

[angstywaifu]

Priority - Garrick Tavis

Anonymous Request: reader would get frustrated with garrick loyalty to xaden (hence protecting violet) and it gets all angsty because hey a girl gets insecure and she’s like “when push come to shove and its my life vs xaden, hell even violet, i don’t know if its my life you’d be saving”, but garrick redeems himself!

Masterlist | Support Me

I storm past Garrick, continuing down the hallway in the sea of riders heading to formation. I was sick of being second to Xaden and essentially Violet. So many times he had brushed me aside or left me behind because of them. Just once I wanted to feel like a priority to him. Something I hadn’t felt since Violet had bonded Tairn, putting Xaden on high alert. Which by extension, meant Garrick. I hear him calling out behind me, but I don’t turn to acknowledge him. We were under attack. And the first thing he had done is rush out of the room to get Xaden and Violet. Leaving me alone in the room to get ready.

I make it to the courtyard before Garrick makes it to me, his hand grabbing my arm to turn me around to face him. “I was calling out to you.” He tells me with a pointed stare.

I shrug my arm out of his grasp, taking a step back to get some distance from him. “I know, I could hear you.” I tell him sternly as I cross my arms over my chest.

”What’s gotten into you?” He says with a scoff.

”What’s gotten into me? Oh I don’t know, maybe I’ve finally had it with being second best to Xaden and Violet the last few months. Maybe I’ve finally had it with being so low down on your priority list that I feel like I barely exist to you any more.”

”That’s not true.” His gaze softening at my words.

”Is it? Because I’m starting to feel like when push comes to shove and it was my life vs Xaden’s, hell even Violet’s, I don’t even know if it’s my life you’d choose anymore.” I spit out at him.

Garrick just stares at me in shock, clearly not expecting me to say something like that. We kept our relationship behind closed doors, but never once had I felt like I wasn’t cared for or loved by him. But since October it had just gotten worse and worse.

”If she dies, Xaden di-”

”I am well the fuck aware what happens if she dies. We all are Garrick. We’re all looking out for them. None of us want to loose Xaden.” I nearly yell at him, causing him to flinch. “But you might have just lost me in the process.”

I turn and head into formation, not wanting to hear what else he has to say. I was getting to the point of anger where I was going to say something I’d regret or go too far. Though I might have just gone too far. I knew how close Xaden and Garrick were. Always have. But this was the first time since we’d gotten together that I had felt like this. And now I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just put the nail in the coffin of our relationship.

We were overwhelmed. Buildings were collapsing, people screaming as they tried to flee to safety. I was honestly starting to think we weren’t going to make it. We’d already lost two to the onslaught. Loud screams to my right startle me, but I have no time to react as a wall of people slam into me, knocking me to the ground.

My ears ring from the contact, amplified by the shoes that kick my head on their way past. All of them too scared to realise they’ve knocked me to the ground. I can barely register my dragon yelling in my head, unable to make out the words they throw down the bond as I try to get back to my feet. I manage to get onto my hands and knees before another shoe meets my head. My dragon continues to yell at me down the bond. I can feel their fear, panic and worry. But I still can’t make out the words they throw at me.

I push myself up again, this time being successful due to the crowd all dissipating. All but one. In the distance down the end of the street, I can just make out a blurry figure clad in robes billowing in the wind. My vision spins as I try to focus on them, my head throbbing from the effort. Shit. I’m concussed. But something tells me I need to move. Need to get to my feet and get out. But I can’t.

I try to focus on the figure again. A figure that’s much brighter in colour to their surroundings. As if the colour has drained from everything around them. I watch as the muted colours get closer and closer to me by the second. I try to stand, but my legs crumble, sending me back to the ground. I need to move, or I’m dead. I try again, grasping onto a nearby wall to try pull myself up. But my hand slips, sending me back to the ground as I cry out in pain. I roll to my side, this time the figure much clearer now my vision isn’t blurry. Watching as the Venin channels from the ground. Watching as it gets closer and closer. I have probably thirty seconds till I meet my end. Thirty seconds left and my last words to him were becoming true in more ways than one. And now I have no way to tell him I’m sorry before I’m gone. I’ll never get to take back those words.

I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to watch when my end will come. But they fly open when I’m pulled from the ground. I look up and see Garrick pulling me into his arms before turning and running us down the street towards Chradh who angles his leg for Garrick. Garrick doesn’t miss a beat as he runs up the makeshift ramp, holding me in his lap as he takes his seat and Chradh launches into the air.

The wind howls around us as Chradh beats his wings, propelling us higher above the chaos below as his magic washes over Garrick and I, securing us in place. I clutch onto Garrick’s flight jacket barely registering the warmth of his body through my haze of pain and fear. My head throbs with each pulse of my heart, and my vision swims, but I can’t tear my eyes away from his face. His jaw is clenched tight, his brows furrowed in concentration as he manoeuvres us out of danger.

"Garrick," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the rush of wind.

His eyes snap down to mine, and for a moment, the icy walls of detachment he’s built around himself crumble. There’s something raw in his expression. Fear, anger, relief, and something deeper that I can’t quite name.

"I thought..." My voice cracks, and I swallow hard. "I thought you didn’t care anymore."

He lets out a harsh, humourless laugh, his grip tightening around me. "Don’t care? Is that what you think? That you’re second to Xaden and Violet?" His voice breaks on Violet’s name, and his gaze darkens. "They’re my responsibility. My duty. But you—" He exhales sharply, his eyes glinting with something that looks almost like desperation. "You’re my everything. And if you ever doubt that again, I’ll—"

"You’ll what?" I manage to croak, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite the pain.

"I’ll never forgive myself," he finishes, his voice dropping to a whisper. He presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin. "You think I could survive losing you? You think I’d want to?"

I blink up at him, my heart twisting at the raw vulnerability in his voice. I’ve never seen him like this, so unguarded, so human. For all his stoicism and sharp edges, Garrick is breaking right in front of me, and it’s because of me.

"I’m sorry," I murmur, reaching up to brush my fingers against his jaw. "I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it."

He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch as if it’s the only thing grounding him. "Just don’t scare me like that again," he says softly. "Please."

Chradh lets out a low growl, drawing our attention back to the chaos below. Garrick straightens, his grip on me tightening as his eyes scan the battlefield. "We’re not out of this yet," he says grimly.

I nod, forcing myself to sit up despite the pounding in my head. "I’m with you," I say, my voice steadier now.

Garrick glances down at me, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. "Always," he says.

[cuntyji]

RED SEA DIVING CLUB ౨ৎ VARIOUS X FEMALE READER

synopsis: your period is here, but guess what? so are your men, and they all have very different approaches to the situation. it’s a mess, literally, but so are you. and they all love it here.

content warnings: suggestive content (no explicit description, it's mostly just crack headcanons because writing smut scares me), periods, period sex

author's note: chuckles nervously and prays this does not flop

sukuna does a little interpretative dance in his head when you ask him to go down on you during your period. it’s a whole theatrical performance up there—twirls, jazz hands, maybe even a dramatic bow at the end. whoopsie, he loves blood, has loved it for millennia, and hey, he loves you too! there’s sheer tension in the air, a moment so raw and intimate—except he looks like a kid in a candy store, eyes practically sparkling with excitement. he thinks he looks reaalll sexy, some smug, brooding beast of a man, but in reality? he just looks giddy, like a dog that just heard the word "walk." “ohhh, baby, y'spoiling me,” he drawls, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to feast. you blink, and suddenly his face is buried between your legs like he’s got a personal vendetta against your thighs. he's winning.

choso, on the other hand, is the one asking to do the deed. he’s curious, fascinated even. “so... s'still okay, right?” he asks, blinking at you with all the innocence of a man who has lived for over a century but still somehow lacks the finer understanding of menstruation. sure, he knows what it is, but the nuances? the societal taboos? the way some guys act like you’ve summoned an ancient curse when you bleed on the sheets? nah, all of that flies right over his head. “do you want to?” you ask, testing him. he nods. so earnestly, too. “yeah.” well, are you complaining? is he stopping? hell no. he’s already got his hair tied back like he’s about to solve an economic crisis, shoulders squared like this is a challenge he’s fully prepared to take on. a scholar in his field. dedication unmatched.

toji is not squeamish. period? what period? this is child’s play to him. unlike your loser exes who whined the second a speck of red touched the sheets, toji merely grunts, “eh, we’ll wash ‘em later,” before promptly ruining them further. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even pause—just goes about it like usual, putting the dirty in down and dirty. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand after, grins, and says, “tastes the same.” (bro?????) he doesn’t even make a thing of it. it’s just sex - just you, just the same old routine, except maybe a little messier. what a man.

gojo, meanwhile, is relieved periods are a once in a month thing. not because he minds the blood—please, (💅) he’s a sorcerer, he’s seen worse—but because, as much as he loves the post-period ovulation package deal that turns you into the horniest creature alive, he’s not exactly jumping with joy at the idea of cleaning up every time you two tear into each other. “babe, i love you,” he says, voice dripping with exaggerated affection, “but we might have to invest in some, like... plastic sheets.” yet, the moment you so much as blink your lashes at him, he’s already laying you out like a starfish. no thoughts. just action. he’s a loving partner, after all.

geto, bless his heart, frowns slightly when you mention it. this is your healing girl era, your resting girl era, and he believes in honoring that. “hmm, i think we should wait,” he says, ever the rational, reasonable man. strictly, at that. no debate. until you sigh dramatically grab your rose toy like thor's hammer, about to embark on a solo pilgrimage. and suddenly? he’s giving you a ride to poundtown. a whoooolllle first-class trip. “oh? you had the energy to go looking for that thing but not to come sit on my lap?” he muses, dark eyes narrowing as he slides a hand up your thigh. oh, joy!

nanami, on the other hand, feels like activities like these can wait. sex isn’t everything, and there are other ways to relieve your cramps. he massages your lower back, makes you warm tea, rubs slow circles into your stomach with his broad, calloused hand. but. if you beg reaaalllllly nicely, voice all soft and sweet, looking up at him with those desperate eyes... well. who is he to say no? “fine.” he exhales, already unbuttoning his shirt. “but you’re washing the sheets.”

a/n: hi

[yandere-wishes]

OMG THE DAMIAN X CATGIRL ONE WAS SO GOOD I NEED CATWOMAN TO ADOPT A WHOLE LITTER. Soooo imagine AK Jason Todd with a catwoman of his own? Having fun until Jason got stuck and torture at the asylum, only to come back to find that Catwoman have Tim as the new Robin? 🥺.

Because seeing this it just fuels he's hate towards the new Robin for 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 HIS catwoman away. Pain to Batman, pain to the new Robin, and now he's bringing it to HER. Hey would she recognize him with the the helmet on? Who knows? 🤷‍♂️

This is an idea I want to write, love u wishes ❤️

NO CAUSE I'VE BEEN SO OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA!!!!!! It is literally everything!! Poor Jason can't catch a break not only has Batman, his mentor, his father, replaced him! But you! The only girl he's ever loved, someone he's been connected to on such a spiritual level since taking up his mantle. Even you have forgotten him, even you have forsaken him! Oh yeah, definitely pain to reader 😠😠

I want you to be measurable too...

=ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ==ᗢ

He'd spent the better days of his boyhood, hanging by the thin metallic thread of a grappling hook. Swinging, feet first from rooftop to rooftop. Muscles taut, body coiled around the rope like a snake around a baobab tree.

He'd read The Little Prince last night, that's how he learned of such marvelous grandiose arbors. Trees that breach the mind, that grow tall enough to shadow Wayne Tower. We wonders if Bruce will take him to Africa one day, he wonders if his mentor will show him the baobab trees. If they'll feel cool and brambly under his palm.

Jason lands on the Museum's roof. Prying through the skylight watching as you kneel by your mentor, your mother. Greedily shoving colorful diamonds into fabric bags. Even in the dark, he's half mesmerized by the fluid motion of your body, the way your muscles flex so smoothly. His breath hitches in his throat too engrossed in the moment.

It's not the baobab trees that Jason thinks of when he sees you.

Instead, it's a rose. Not roses, plural, rose singular. As the rose the little prince had. The thing he cherished more than his own life. The thing he'd die for over and over again.

He hears Bruce land behind him. The moment gone evaporating like morning dew upon red petals. He straightens, ready, he has a job to do, a father to impress.

And maybe that book, that dreadful, wonderful book had been his first taste of bitter love. Through the pages and the words spoken between Prince and Rose, little Jason Todd had savored his first dose of obsession.

You kick him in the shoulder, sending him flying to the skyscraper edge. Jason swings himself up just as you are near to inspect your prey. His knees cage your hips and he uses all his force to push you down.

The stars blink overhead, paparazzi cameras catching a private moment between two masked kids. "Hello, Robin" you purr clawed gloves idly tracing his arm. Jason tries to smile to smirk, to flirt back."H-hello Ki-tty". But the blood rushing to his face has him stunned he can't breathe. Why do you look so pretty like this? Laying on your back staring up at him with big perfect eyes. You tilt your head and meow.

"Hey, that's Miss Kitty to you"...

He likes this new side of you, likes the mace you wield like a whip. It looks like yarn, soft and delicate.

The punchline lands at the same time as the flanged head crashes to his ribs. He thinks they shattered, cartilages cracking, freeing the marrow from within.

So this is what love feels like. Pain that rages from the inside sharp shards piercing soft organ tissue. So painful it tickles and you can feel the blood pooling in your mouth along with all the words you long to say.

No wonder the little prince kept going back to the rose. No wonder he found euphoria in the prick of her thorns.

He struggles to his feet and jumps, as high as he can. His side bruns begging him to stay down. Be he can't, he won't, Bruce wouldn't, and Alfred will find a way to piece him back together. So he takes flight flipping through the air, out of your sight.

For a moment you're stunned lackadaisically twirling your mace like a ballerina's ribbon wand. And even though he's mid attack Jason can't help admiring how ethereal you look, like a lion cub out on her first hunt.

Jason's knees land on your shoulder blades, his weight making you fall on your stomach with a pained scream. Your mace rolls away, thank God, that could have gotten too messy he thinks. Jason tugs hard on your cat ears, pulling back your head and exposing your neck to point a Batarang at your throat. "Here, kitty, kitty" he mocks, playful cadence laced with derision. You hiss out in pain as he brings his head closer. He looks so handsome upside down, like the pretty birds that sing on the balcony.

It's a split second, you raise your head, and the Batarang's wing punctures your collarbone. Your lips push on his, hollow but sweet. You feel his body go ridge his hold on his weapon lost. Still, you persist not breaking your first kiss...

You guess it's his too, you hope it is. Only when you feel his lips push back do you force him off with all your might. Grabbing your mace and jumping to the next rooftop. What is this excitement, so raw, so frantic?

You don't stop running until you make it home.

You don't look back, scared he'll see the bright pink dusting your cheeks.

You open the window and silently slip in.

Only to see Selina waiting in the dark.

Arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

He's baptized by blood and iron.

Broken down bone by bone.

Left to bleed out in the dark on the dirty asylum floor.

Still, he holds your name under his tongue, caged between his teeth.

His little kitten.

Sometimes he pretends you're lying next to him, gazing into his eyes as you too bleed out. Sometimes he laughs at your sarcastic quips at the dreaded clown. No dread is too light a word you'd correct. He finds you more attractive when you spill graphic profanities.

But you're not here, not really. And he can't quite tell if he's happy or not. His hand always reaches out to you. Desperate to feel your warmth, just once more...

And yet he's always met with air.

Always met by the stickiness of his own blood pooling beneath him.

He watches you from afar. Haunting the night, camouflaged amongst the shodws. The still Gotham night feels like a homecoming. A bittersweet reunion with a world that's both abandoned and forgotten him.

The arkham night swallows thickly, from behind his digilitized mask he zooms in on two figures in the distance. Swinging on metal threads, bodies coiled like snakes, latching on. One loses muscle one wrong move and they plummet to their death.

But the figures don't seem scared. You don't seem scared as you laugh at the boy wearing his clothes. No not his clothes, he's made sure to burn them all so very long ago. Instead, the boy wears red and black and yellow, he wears his symbol. But the garments are looser, not carved but built, foreign things covering a boy's body. Not armored built from years of endurance.

Still, you don't seem to mind, you scratch at him playfully as if he were a mouse on a string. You hiss and meow as he laughs and spools sanctimonious gibberish that sounds all so very Bat in nature.

Who else have you been sneaking off with? Jason makes a note to keep a better eye on you.

Jason's ironclad fists meet with Bruce's masked face.

Again and Again. He points his gun beneath his old mentor's ribs and shoots. Feel me he scream inside himself. Feel my pain. From the shadows, something pounces. Familiar nails try to dig into his chest, bypass the iron armor, and impale him.

It doesn't take much force to tug her off of him. He smashes her into the cement. Catwoman lets out an all-so-familiar meowl of pain. His boot meets with her flesh, her bones. Grinding them into the pavement, he can't tell why he wants to hurt her. Does he blame her for your disloyalty, does he want to hurt Bruce? The thoughts grow heavy as his ears buzz with rage. When he finally leaves he tosses a glare behind his shoulder watching the bat crawling toward the cat.

"Don't worry about your Kitten, I'll take better care of her than you ever could." His modulated inhuman voice promises...

It's been all so long since he's thought of roses and baobab tress, so long since he's pretended to be a prince returning to his scared beloved rose. Jason- no the Arkham Knight- corners you on a rooftop as you frantically try to reach your mentor. He watches as you twirl your mace, ready to fight. They're so much hatred behind your eyes, do you really not see him?

Your mace's head swings at his ribs, good to see some things never change, he counters the attack seizing the weapon with one hand. You try to pull it back to bring him to you. Instead, Jason pulls back and you're sent hurling into the thick metal of his chest. Your head spins as you glare up at him. His fingers wrap around your neck squeezing.

squeezing

squeezing

He'll find the new bird later. Crush his skull before your eyes. He'll make you suffer for leaving him. For turning your tretory.

At his base, in an interrogation room, the Arkham Knight slowly starts to peel away your sanity. Breaking your bones, your mind, your essence. Morphing you from the helpless little kitty into a bloodthirsty lioness. Whose only purpose is to be at his beck and call. You'll live for him, die for him. His perfect little pet. And once he knows he's broken your mind completely, the only thoughts swimming around that damaged thing are how to please your master. Then he'll unleash you on Gotham, watching as you tear into your mother's throat, ripping her apart with bare teeth and claws. Just like he will do to his father...

Then, and only then. When Gotham is his, he'll pull away the mask and let you see the man beneath the helm. He'll let you see the man who used to be Jason Todd.

Let me know if you guys ever want a fic or HC on what Jason ends up doing to the reader, I'll try to make it as gorey and darkly romantic as I can. Honestly rn my brain is so fired I can't really come up with anything lol. 😅😅

Love you to the moon and back for this ask Anon!! AAAWWWW Arkham Knight Jason is honestly the LOVE OF MY LIFE!!