#might even finally order dessert......

[ponderingmoonlight]

jjk men cheering you up

Pairings: gojo x fem!reader; geto x fem!reader; choso x fem!reader; sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,3k

Warnings: this is my first fic in months so I hope you enjoy. Will post more from now on🫶

Gojo Satoru

Gojo knows something is off the moment he sees you. Your usual spark is dimmer, and even though you try to play it off, with that stern expression and eyes hidden behind sunglasses, he isn’t buying it.

So, naturally, he decides to fix it the best way he knows how - by being an absolute menace.

“Helloooo, earth to my favorite person!”

He dramatically waves a hand in front of your face, leaning in way too close for your liking. Honestly, this is the last thing you need today after getting shat on by literally everyone crossing your path. Why does everything have to go wrong. And more specifically, why are you always involved?

His sunglasses are perched on his head, letting those ridiculous blue eyes stare right through your soul.

You sigh.

“Gojo-”

“Bzzzt! Wrong answer. It’s Satoru, your beloved, devastatingly handsome best friend-slash-mentor-slash-personal-jester-slash-lover? I don’t know about that last part, we didn’t get specific on that.”

He pokes your cheek, grinning.

“Now tell me what’s wrong, or I’m gonna start listing my best qualities. Out loud. In public.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the small smile forming. How does he do this? It’s like all the frustration leaves you bit by bit the second this jerk starts talking. What were you even mad about in the first place? He gasps.

“Was that a smile?! Oh, I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Before you can protest, he grabs your wrist and teleports you to a café downtown. The next thing you know, he’s ordering every single dessert on the menu, grinning like a proud child while you stare at him like an idiot.

“Nothing a little sugar can’t fix,” he comments, plopping down across from you.

“And if it doesn’t work, don’t worry - I’ll just have to be even more annoying until you laugh for real. Or we can take this to my bed-”

“Can you just stop?”, you interrupt him immediately, cheeks turning bright pink.

You shake your head, but as he starts dramatically fake-crying about his "invisible pain," you find yourself laughing anyway.

What a jerk. And yet, what a blessing.

Geto Suguru

Geto doesn’t say anything when he notices your exhaustion. Sure the elders took out their anger and frustration on you again and sent you through the country hunting day and night for curses. You don’t deserve to go through this. Not you, one of the kindest people he knows. He simply sits beside you, offering his presence instead of demanding explanations while all you’re able to do is staring in the distance.

All that horror, that restless night…When is this going to end? When will you have a life again?

After a while, he quietly lifts up his voice.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, and he doesn’t push. Suguru never does. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while gently allowing his arm to rest over your exhausted shoulders. It’s like he’s your savior, your ambrosia after every stressful mission.  

“Alright,” he says.

“Then how about a walk? Fresh air might help.”

You agree, and soon you’re strolling through a quiet park, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow. Geto is calm, steady - he doesn’t try to force conversation, just lets the silence sit comfortably between you both while his hand gently holds onto yours.

When you sigh, he finally speaks.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone, you know.”

His voice is soft, understanding, his touch so reassuring that you feel like bursting out in tears any moment.

“I’ll listen whenever you’re ready.”

The sincerity in his eyes almost undoes you, but you manage a nod. Geto doesn’t need you to thank him. He simply reaches out, squeezing your shoulder gently before letting go.

“Wait”, you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“What is it, (y/n)?”

“Can you…can you maybe just…hold me?”, you mutter.

Suddenly you feel out of place. What are you even doing here next to that guy all your friends crush over? Did you really just ask him to hug you?

“I mean I-“

“I’d honestly love to”, he replies before you’re able to explain yourself.

The next second, you find yourself devoured between his arms, lost in his immaterial touch, his arms light as a feather and yet so demanding against your skin that you feel whole again.

For the first time in months, you find yourself relaxing. Not in a bath, not in a sauna, but in the arms of a man you learned to love more than any obstacle could ever hurt you.

Choso

Choso notices the way you drag your feet, the way your shoulders slump. His instincts scream at him to fix it, but he isn’t sure how. To be honest, he still isn’t good at reading human emotions. Yuji told him a few things here and there, but what if you feel uncomfortable by him talking to you? What if you get mad, scream at him? His chest tightens the way he hates it most.

But he has to do something. There’s no way he’ll allow you to potentially feel bad.

So he does the only thing he knows - he stays close.

You’re curled up on the couch when he silently walks over, placing a blanket over your shoulders. When you glance up at him, he merely nods, sitting down beside you. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence is solid, grounding.

To be honest, you’re on the brink of crying. It feels like the whole world is against you with everyone screaming, lying and ditching on you. When will this finally stop? Will you ever be happy again? This life just feels like a nightmare you can’t wake up from, I grave you cannot escape.

After a moment, he shifts.

“You should rest,” he murmurs.

“I’ll stay here.”

There’s something so simple, so unwavering about his words that the tightness in your chest loosens just a little. You lean against him without thinking, and when he doesn’t move away, you let yourself relax.

He smells surprisingly good for the old man he is, his body soft and yet hard against your touch. Without thinking twice, you lower you head to his chest and start screaming, crying, bawling your eyes out.

“You don’t have to hide from me”, he simply comments, his hand caressing your hair and making sure it doesn’t stick to your soaked face.

“I’ll always be here. And I’ll kill everyone who makes you feel this way.”

You can’t help but chuckle while wiping your nose in the most unladylike manner.

“You being here is more than enough.”

Sukuna

Sukuna scoffs when he sees you sulking, immediately springing up from his throne.

“Tch. What’s with that pathetic face?”

You glare at him. Honestly, he’s the last thing you need right now. Not when your life is falling apart already, not when you have 99 problems to deal with – him not included.

“Thanks, asshole. That really helps.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

“What, you expect me to coddle you? Please.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. No, you can’t take this right now. This isn’t the time for Sukuna’s shit talk.

“Then leave me alone.”

But he doesn’t. Oh, he never does.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and suddenly pulls you into his lap, making you yelp. His clawed hand rests lazily against your head, almost like… like he’s patting you?

“You’re annoying when you mope,” he grumbles, but his fingers brush against your scalp in slow, careful strokes.

“So stop it already.”

You blink, stunned.

“Are you…are you comforting me?”

Sukuna clicks his tongue.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

You can’t help it. You laugh despite feeling like shit, and his scowl deepens. But he doesn’t shove you away, doesn’t stop his absentminded gestures of comfort.

Maybe he won’t say it outright, but you get the message.

Even the King of Curses doesn’t like seeing you sad.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr

[hyuniemyunie]

Clinical Signs of Affection

gregory house x reader

nsfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): domestic fluff, work day softness, kiss sneakery, annoying couple behavior, eventual sex, riding house into oblivion, afab reader. no pronouns mentioned, reader calls themselves a "hot housewife" but is referred to as houses "partner" no prns, just a mention of readers clit n hot housewife🙏🙏🙏🙏

tbh its mostly sfw, the nsfw comes at the end

i love this soggy old man sm.

i might repost this on ao3 too, i have ONE fic on ao3. its a house fic.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

You don’t technically belong here.

You’re not on the clock. You’re not on call. And the front desk nurse definitely gave you the stink eye when you flashed your visitor’s badge and breezed in like you owned the place.

But you do own one very specific thing in this hospital.

Well. One person.

One disaster of a man currently on his sixth hour of ignoring basic human needs like food, water, and common sense.

So you walk through the halls of Princeton-Plainsboro like you’re on a mission, lunchbox in one hand, water bottle in the other, and a familiar devil-may-care smile curling on your lips. You even wore the hoodie he pretends to hate—the one that’s technically his but smells like you now.

A few nurses smile at you. One intern stares like she’s seeing a unicorn. You’ve visited enough times that people know you, but still rarely enough that your appearance turns heads.

Especially when you burst into Diagnostics without knocking.

House doesn’t look up immediately. He’s lounging in his chair, feet on the desk, twirling a pen between his fingers with all the grace of a bored cat. His team—Chase, Cameron, and Foreman—are mid-bicker, voices overlapping, something about liver enzymes and blood cultures and, probably, the meaning of life.

“Tell me someone brought coffee,” House says without looking up.

You don’t say anything.

You just walk in, slow and deliberate, and place the lunchbox right on top of the folder in his lap.

And then the water bottle.

Then, you lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Hi,” you say.

There’s a pause.

Then he finally blinks, looks up, and sees you.

And for a moment, the mask slips.

His eyes soften—just a flicker—and his lips twitch into something less sardonic, more fond.

“I didn’t order a personal chef with boundary issues,” he says.

“No, but you’re getting one anyway.”

Chase coughs awkwardly.

Cameron pointedly avoids eye contact.

Foreman mutters, “Every damn time.”

You ignore them all and pull up a chair beside House like you own the place. Which, emotionally speaking, you do.

“You haven’t eaten,” you say, flipping the lunchbox open. “I know you haven’t eaten. And if I don’t shove food down your throat myself, you’ll subsist on nothing but ibuprofen and rage.”

House narrows his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Romantic,” he says dryly.

You smile sweetly. “Chicken teriyaki. And a granola bar, because I know you forget dessert exists.”

He squints at you. “You’re enabling my childish avoidance of nutrition.”

“I’m preventing your body from eating itself.”

He eats.

Grumbling, mock-insulting your cooking, muttering about sodium content—but he eats. And when no one’s looking, you slip your hand under the table and lace your fingers with his.

He squeezes once, hard. Doesn't look at you.

But he holds on.

You give him his water bottle with your other hand and wait until he rolls his eyes and takes a sip, just to shut you up.

When his team clears out—some excuse about test results, but really, it’s because no one wants to witness this—he finally glances at you properly.

“You know,” he says slowly, like drawing out each word, “you could’ve stayed home. Slept. Watched trash TV. Painted your toenails. I’m not exactly prime lunchtime company.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his jaw. This one lingers.

“I know,” you murmur. “But I missed you. And I like bothering you.”

He grumbles something unintelligible, but his arm slips around your waist. Just a little.

Just enough.

“Also,” you add with a cheeky grin, “I thought you might appreciate a few stolen kisses between patient charts.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are we in a 90s romcom now?”

You lean closer. “Only if you kiss me back when no one’s watching.”

And sure enough, when Cuddy passes by five minutes later, glaring through the glass with a look that screams Gregory, do your actual job, you’re sitting innocently beside him, lips kiss-bitten, cheeks warm, and House is chewing thoughtfully while looking suspiciously satisfied.

When the office empties again, he leans in and kisses you without a word.

Deep. Slow. Almost hesitant.

“You’re disgusting,” he mutters when you smirk.

“You’re making out with me in your workplace.”

“God help me.”

You grin, smug, resting your head on his shoulder. “Don’t need God. You’ve got me.”

He makes a show of groaning dramatically, but his fingers trail lazily up and down your arm. Like he can’t not touch you. Like he needs to be reminded you’re here, real, breathing beside him.

You stay like that until his pager buzzes again.

He sighs.

You steal one last kiss before he pulls away.

“Bring me leftovers tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder as he limps out.

“Tomorrow’s your day off.”

“Exactly. I’ll be hungry.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but your heart is full, stupid and warm.

You’ll bring him lunch again tomorrow.

And sneak another kiss, too.

Because even if he never says it in those exact words, you know the truth:

He works best when he knows you’re somewhere nearby—keeping him grounded, fed, loved.

..And hydrated.

---

The moment House’s cane tapped against the hardwood of the front hall, you were already in position like a military strategist. He was home. Finally.

You’d spent all afternoon preparing. Not because you were the type of person to wait on him hand and foot—House would’ve teased the life out of you if that were the case—but because you knew the way his shoulders slumped just a little lower after back-to-back shifts, the way his sarcasm came out slightly more biting when he was actually running on fumes. And because, somewhere deep inside his perpetually grumpy self, he would never ask for what he needed.

So, you gave it to him anyway.

He barely got through the door when his nose twitched.

“Something smells edible,” he grunted, tossing his bag to the side and half-stumbling into the living room. “And here I was expecting the usual ‘eat air and cry’ menu.”

You poked your head out from the kitchen doorway, wiping your hands on a towel dramatically. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I slaved over a hot stove for at least thirty minutes. That’s premium effort.”

“Mm. You must love me or something,” he said dryly, dragging himself toward the kitchen by the scent alone. “Poor taste.”

“Absolutely tragic,” you agreed, grinning.

When he got close, you could finally take him in—creased button-down under his blazer, the stubble that had grown longer over the last few days, the weary creases by his eyes even as he smirked. He smelled like hospital soap, exhaustion, and the faintest trace of antiseptic.

He leaned in without a word and buried his face in your shoulder, the side of his nose brushing your neck. You didn’t even hesitate—your arms were already around him, pressing him close, fingers slipping up under the back of his shirt to stroke over his skin.

“You always smell better than the hospital,” he mumbled, voice muffled.

“I should hope so. I don’t exactly rub against the ICU on the daily.”

“Might be missing out.”

You laughed against his hair, squeezing him tighter. “You’re disgusting.”

“Your disgusting. You love this disgusting. And speaking of things I love—what did you make me?”

You finally let him go with a dramatic sigh, motioning toward the table. “It’s all ready, Dr. House. Go sit. Or fall. Either works.”

He dropped into his chair with a groan of relief, rubbing his thigh out of habit while you set the table. Pan-seared steak, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and a tiny bit of something green you knew he’d push around but at least look at. You slid a beer beside his plate with a flourish.

“Who are you and what have you done with my partner?” he asked.

“I killed them. Now I’m the hot housewife.”

He took a sip of the beer, eyeing you over the rim. “You do realize this makes me want to skip dinner and go straight to dessert, right?”

You gave him a sly look and sat across from him. “Eat. Or I’m not letting you see the apron under this shirt.”

“You’re wearing an apron under the shirt?”

“No.”

He choked on a laugh, and something about the softness in his eyes when he finally started to eat made your chest squeeze. His sarcasm never went away, but when it was you, he let it soften at the edges. He let himself feel. That was more than he gave anyone else.

The meal passed with the usual banter—House throwing roasted carrots at you for being “a rabbit,” you threatening to “accidentally” pour gravy in his lap, both of you laughing like idiots over things that probably weren’t even funny. You cleared the table together, and when you were finally done, you leaned back against the sink and raised an eyebrow.

“Now,” you said, arms crossed. “Are you ready for me?”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Was this all just foreplay?”

“House. I literally lit candles. Do I ever light candles?”

“Only when something’s on fire.”

You threw the dishtowel at him. “I ran a bath. And I’m letting you shower with me. Which is generous, because you’re grabby.”

“You say that like it’s a complaint.”

He slid off the counter and limped toward you slowly.

“You’re mine to be grabby with,” he said as his hand snuck around your waist, tugging you in. “Domesticity looks hot on you.”

You leaned up to kiss his jaw. “Shut up and get naked.”

—

Steam curled against the mirror, blurring the edges of your reflections as House stepped in behind you under the stream of hot water. You gasped slightly when the water hit your shoulders—he had cranked the temperature all the way up. He always liked it too hot, and you always let him win.

“You’ll boil me alive one day,” you mumbled, grabbing the soap.

“Mm. Tenderized and ready to eat.”

His hands slid around your waist again, but this time they didn’t stop. Palms flattened against your stomach, fingers dipping low, tracing lazy circles that made you lean back against him. He kissed your shoulder, then your neck, and the scruff of his beard scraped lightly against your skin. One of his hands moved up, cupping your chest shamelessly.

“House—”

“I’ve been dealing with blood, idiots, and Cuddy all day,” he muttered against your ear. “Let me feel something good.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him, leaning back further into his chest as both of his hands roamed. Not rough—just possessive. Comforting.

You turned in his arms finally and kissed him slowly. He tasted like beer, toothpaste and exhaustion, and he kissed you back with the hunger of a man who’d been living on bitterness and hospital coffee.

“Love you,” you whispered.

His forehead pressed to yours. “You’re an idiot.”

You smiled. “Takes one to love one.”

He grinned, and the way he looked at you in that moment—naked, wet, sleepy, and grinning like a man in love—was worth every moment you’d spent waiting for him to come home.

---

It started, as it often did, with you waking up to something pressing insistently against your backside.

You were warm. Wrapped in soft sheets. Limbs tangled with House’s. The air smelled like morning and him—skin and shampoo and something vaguely medicinal. You didn’t even open your eyes at first. Just exhaled a breath and shifted slightly in bed.

That was when you felt it again.

Thick. Hard. Warm.

Pressed right up between your ass cheeks, like it was meant to be there.

You didn’t need to turn to know House was still fast asleep. His arm was slung over your waist, his breathing even, that low rasp of sleep just starting to fade into wakefulness. But his body was already several steps ahead of him.

Typical.

You smiled to yourself, still barely awake, and wriggled a little closer. That earned you a low grunt.

“…if you’re gonna grind on it, at least commit to the bit,” he muttered sleepily into your hair.

You snorted, turning in his arms until you were face to face, and yup—there was that morning glare. Eyelids half-closed, hair a mess, scruffy jaw, and the world’s most unrepentant erection trapped between you.

“Not my fault you’re pitching a tent,” you whispered, grinning as your hand slid under the covers to palm him through his boxers. “Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“Medical malpractice.”

“Sure it wasn’t about me in nothing but scrubs?”

He opened one eye, his mouth twitching upward. “You in scrubs is hot. You out of scrubs is hotter.”

You slipped your hand past the waistband and wrapped your fingers around him, slow and firm, and his breath caught, teeth dragging across his lip.

“I could help,” you said softly, giving him a lazy stroke. “Before breakfast.”

“Are you the breakfast?” he asked, voice still gravelly, eyes now glued to your mouth.

You leaned in and kissed him softly. His hand tangled in your hair, and when you shifted to straddle him, his hips arched up immediately into your palm.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned.

“Mm. I’ll revive you. Doctor’s orders.”

You reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a condom from the drawer—because House was a bastard, but he was always careful. You opened the packet, and he watched you like he couldn’t look away, like the very sight of you half-naked in the morning light had short-circuited every sarcastic neuron in his brain.

You rolled it onto him with slow, practiced care, and he hissed softly, hands gripping your thighs. Once he was sheathed and you were slick enough to take him, you eased yourself down onto his cock with a breathless moan.

“Jesus,” he muttered, brow furrowed, “how are you this warm already?”

“Your fault,” you whispered, rocking your hips. “You started it.”

His hands found your waist, guiding your rhythm even though he barely had the strength to lift his head. His mouth fell open as you moved—slow, deep, lazy like Sunday mornings should be. No rush. No urgency. Just the warmth of skin, the roll of your hips, the softness of your hands on his chest, your fingers laced with his.

“God, I missed this,” he muttered.

“You had me last night.”

“Not like this.”

He let you ride him in silence for a few minutes—aside from the low, broken groans he couldn’t hold back when you clenched or angled just right. His thumb brushed your clit in lazy circles, coaxing pleasure from you with that same knowing touch he used in diagnostics—only now it was you he was unraveling.

When your moans started to climb and your thighs began to tremble, he bucked up once, hard, and you gasped.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Come on. Come with me.”

You barely had time to nod before your orgasm hit, crashing through you in a wave of heat and release. You clung to him as you came, shuddering, and he wasn’t far behind—his grip tightened, and he thrust up one final time as he spilled into the condom with a low groan, forehead pressed to your chest.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathless, your bodies tangled and sticky with sweat and satisfaction.

For a while, neither of you moved.

Then, House grunted. “I think I broke a rib.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“You rode me like I was a prize bull.”

You laughed and kissed his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. “Worth it.”

He reached up, brushed your hair back gently, and kissed your forehead with surprising tenderness.

“Definitely worth it.”

---

After a shared shower—filled more with sleepy kisses and soft touches than anything dirty—you both ended up back in the kitchen, dressed in soft pajamas, your hair still damp, House’s limp a little worse than usual.

“I blame you,” he said, sipping coffee while flipping a pancake with surprising skill. “I’m gonna need my cane just to sit down today.”

“You always need your cane.”

“Not the point.”

You leaned against the counter, watching him. He was still bleary-eyed, still grumbling, but there was something in the way he moved—lighter. More at ease.

When you handed him a plate and he brushed his fingers over yours, you smiled. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to.

It was all there in the way he looked at you over his coffee mug.

Grumpy. Sated. Home.

And as far as mornings went?

You couldn’t think of a better one.

[zillychu]

On their way to Bambouche, the party stops by a restaurant. A nice meal is had, the sun is setting, the day is winding down.

Until Siffrin sees the couples' deluxe dessert special on the menu.

"Quick, someone pretend to be bonded with me!" Siffrin slaps the menu down with a sweaty palm, fire in his eye and maybe a little drool on his chin.

Odile's hand is on Isabeau's shoulder with the speed and expertise of a handler whose dog was just offered bacon.

"Isabeau," She speaks calm and quiet, as Mirabelle and Bonnie scoot in close to Siffrin, oo-ing and aa-ing at the lavishly illustrated confectionary. "Wait just a moment."

"Madame..." Isa whines with such a shake to both voice and legs (had he really already been on his feet?), that Odile returns to the dog metaphor. She nods her head towards the three at the other end of the table.

They all look as desperate as Isa does right now, starry-eyed and giddy as they point out the obscene number of strawberries, the generous portion of vanilla-bean ice cream, and ooh is that lava cake? It's huge, but they can afford it at 50% off!

"I know you need this like a drowning man needs air," Odile doesn't even keep her tone down this time, she's hardly the only one with at least one eye. "but consider:"

Siffrin, Mirabelle, and Bonnie look up at them, curious.

"It would be hilarious to see Siffrin and Mirabelle fail at this spectacularly."

Silence falls across the table. Hands shake. A dry throat tries to swallow.

Isa quietly sits back down in his chair.

"S-sorry, Sif..." Isa scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

"HAH!!!"

"Madame you traitor!!"

"Wait wait wait Isa hold on, we could still--"

"Ah-ah, Isabeau made his decision. Don't be a sore loser now."

"Oh Change--okay, okay I can do this. We can do this, Siffrin!"

"Belle, Belle! Give Frin one of your earrings!"

"... Oh no my ears aren't pierced, why did I never pierce my ears??"

"Just, uh... stick it on your cloak? That might be obvious enough! I think!"

"Okay, yeah--w-wait, what's our story?"

"Story? We need a--oh Change of course we need a backstory! What if they ask us how long we've been bonded?"

"We'll just, we can, um--"

"The waiter's coming back, quick hurry up!!"

-----

A waitress stands next to a portly man in a fine dress shirt, the two of them watching the commotion as the new guy (oh, poor Oliver) tries his best to handle delivering a final dessert order to Vaugarde's Saviors--and finding out Housemaiden Mirabelle is, apparently, betrothed.

He's handling it about as well as his previous interactions, having been ordered not to call attention to the heroes' identity or fame, give them some space to breathe. Things certainly would go a lot smoother if he had any semblance of a poker face, but at least three of them seem to trust his feigned ignorance.

The Housemaiden and her companion with the cloak look like they're about to melt off the table by the time Oliver starts walking off with an empty tray. The kid with them is already digging in, picking off strawberries and laughing uproariously while the tall gentleman across from them vibrates in fits of giggles.

"... Do they know... we would have given them the cake for free...?"

[onsomenewsht]

I've got peace and I've got love

About a surprise for your birthday even if you hate your birthday

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 for anyone who needs to feel celebrated

Birthdays are a complicated matter.

You don’t hate them, no one really does.

People should be loved loudly, their mere presence on Earth should be reason enough to celebrate them.

You care about your family and your friends, baking cakes and inflating balloons and dressing up for a themed party are not a problem - you’re the first one to arrive and the last to leave.

Celebrating your birthday though? Hell, no.

For most, it doesn’t make sense.

A day in a whole year when anyone is entitled to be under the biggest spotlight, getting gifts and all the wanted attention. Yet, you’d rather hide in the remotest corner of the planet than hear someone sing “happy birthday” to you.

Despite the insistence and the repeated attempts over the years, your mother has finally accepted that you don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Your best friend has accepted that you’ll avoid a surprise party like the plague. Everyone who knows you, knows it.

Alexia included.

At least she knows now, after last year.

The two of you got together just shy of three months before your birthday. Bless her good heart, she thought a surprise ambush might be appreciated.

She’s not going to make the same mistake twice in a row, but she wants to do something.

“You told me she hates birthdays”, Alba points out, a bit confused, sipping her coffee as if her sister isn’t in the middle of an inconclusive rant.

“She hates her own, not birthdays in general”

“I still think you should just buy her a nice present, wish her a happy birthday and move on like she asked you to do”

“It seems so, I don’t know, incomplete?”, the blonde tries to explain, “How do I make sure I show how much I appreciate her if I can’t celebrate her?”

“You better celebrate her every day, not just on the birthday–”

“I do it, idiot!”

Alexia is quick in her jab, but thankfully the younger girl is used to her attitude by now.

Cup saved from any spill, Alba barely has enough patience to give another, simple pearl of wisdom, “So do it like any other day, but, you know, on her birthday”

It’s good advice, even if she’d never admit it.

Alexia spends most of her day off plotting, her free time during the week before your birthday completely taken over by careful planning and prep.

You can tell immediately that something is off, but you let it slide because she’s cute when she’s on a mission, and you don’t really want to spoil her fun.

At the stroke of midnight, like a mischievous fairy godmother, your best friend calls you to sing a personalized rendition of “Die, Die My Darling” like every year since you’re sixteen and think you’re oh-so-funny.

Your mother sends a present from the entire family, along with a picture of a cake you’re not going to eat but you’re glad they’ll enjoy in your name. Alexia’s mother and sister send flowers, and you have to reassure your girlfriend that it’s a genuinely appreciated sentiment.

Said girlfriend kisses you for every year spent on this Earth and then moves on, as if nothing happened. As if nothing is going to happen.

It’s suspicious, really suspicious.

The day passes by without any major incident.

At work just a few colleagues know it’s your birthday, they politely hand you a card with bad jokes written all over it. You mindlessly send the same three reactions at every text message, nonetheless appreciating everyone who remembered and took the time to wish you a happy birthday. A kind waitress adds a slice of dessert as you pick up take-out at your favourite Mexican place, probably prompted by Alexia when she ordered over the phone and sent you to the restaurant.

Guard down, you open the door to your girlfriend’s apartment, still not connecting the dots.

Thank the goddesses and gods above for that nice waitress, because what you find inside is definitely a first and the food wouldn’t have survived the surprise if not for the well-secured package.

Soft music - that, to your shame, you only realise too late is your favorite record - resonates through the room, which is filled with dozens of floating balloons reaching the ceiling.

You take a few tentative steps inside, noticing pictures carefully tied to each string with numbers scribbled on the corners.

Snaps of the past year, memories so simple in their significance you sometimes fail to give a good measure of. Dinners out with friends, an unflattering portrait of an early morning during the summer, the first time holding your niece. You linger over a photo of you and Alexia talking on Mapi’s couch, neither of you looking at the camera, as it’s clear you had eyes only for each other.

“I’ve never seen this one”, you whisper, emotion thick in your voice.

Your girlfriend is leaning on the further wall of the entrance, a confident stance failing to hide a note of nervousness. The way her hands are buried in the pocket of old sweatpants and her eyes are studying every single macro-expression shifting on your face are a clear tell for you.

"Ingrid sent it to me some times ago”

“It’s beautiful”

“It is”, she agrees easily, still not daring to come closer.

Alexia’s gaze drops as soon as you notice there’s a handwritten message on the back of every photo, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You take the time to read each one attentively, smiling at her thoughtfulness and the care she put into all the moments chosen. People and occasions that hold meaning for you, no matter how big or small. You feel love in every single one.

“You put a lot of thought into this”

“I had to sacrifice a couple of good ones”, she mumbles, almost upset with herself.

The commitment to matching the number of pictures to your age it’s impressive, you have to admit.

A burst of laughter fills the entire apartment, Alexia finally meeting your gaze and taking in how moved you’re by her surprise.

The fear of overstepping had been like an annoying voice, whispering in her ear as she scribbled on the back of the photos or tried to wrap gifts without running out of patience or tape.

“Do you like it?”, her doubt creeping in her voice.

“I don’t hate it”, you joke, still eager to ease her worries, “No one has ever put this much thought or effort into– I don’t know, celebrating my birthday, I guess”

“You deserve to be celebrated”

You take the few steps to fill the gap between you two, food forgotten somewhere behind, and throw yourself into her already open arms.

“Thank you”

“I love you”

The kiss you share is a clear enough answer. Sometimes, it’s not even necessary to spell it out - action speaks louder than words, they say. She holds you for as long as you need, music still playing softly in the background.

“Is this a good moment to mention that you have to open as many presents as you have in years?”

“Alexia!”

[tojisun]

…yea sure why not?

-

baker!simon who’s known for the bit he’s got going on – something you wished your friends would’ve told you because the first time you walked into the niche bakery (at six am to boot) and saw simon, big and tall and inked and masked simon, you screamed bloody murder.

“jesus-!” he yelled back in surprise, almost dropping a tray of freshly baked shortbreads before whipping his head up to see what was going on only to feel like he’s been punched in the gut because there you stood by the entrance, bundled up with thick jackets like you’re preparing for winter even though fall was just settling in, your hair a haggard mess and your face gaunt from exhaustion, and looking like all parts of simon’s dream woman.

“um,” you stammered, staring at him with wide eyes and trembling hands, your heart hammering in your chest as you began to panic. “i, uh. i’m…?”

simon watched as you continued to stammer before finally taking pity on you. he placed the tray on the counter and turned to fully present himself to you, spreading his arms out in hopes that it would show you that he’s not dangerous. that you would see his flour-covered apron and see that all he’s got going on in life is baking, and then instantly be enamoured with him.

“you here for breakfast?” he asked, clearing his throat upon hearing the awkward croak of his voice. thank god for his mask because he was able to hide the flush of his cheeks, allowing him to continue to play it cool in front of you.

“yes?” you replied, still confused as to why the… baker? was wearing a homemade skull mask.

“sure,” he said and you watched as he wiped his hands on his apron. “come over here then. what’d you want to order?”

baker!simon who isn’t really a big sweets enthusiast but whose desserts are the best in the block. you asked him what made him pursue this career and you watched as he stilled, his face falling slack like he can see something you couldn’t ��� like he is reliving a memory – before shaking himself with a deep inhale and finally whispering, “for my brother.”

you did not probe any further, your heart heavy with guilt, but simon just turned to you with a small smile and asked, “wanna hear about ‘im?”

he gathered you in his arms as he recounted the few fond memories he has of his childhood, and you breathed him in, smelling the faint smell of macaroons and toasted butter on his skin.

baker!simon who begins dedicating his daily special treats to you. “for the apple of my eye,” when it’s apple fritters day. “for my beloved cheri,” on cherry pie day. “for my precious sugar,” on sugar cookies day.

baker!simon who proudly prances around in his frilly pink apron that has “husband material” embroidered on the chest. you gave it to him as a gag gift but simon loves it so much that he began to wear it to work, showing it off to his friends with a deep chuckle.

“my girl got it f’r me,” he says to johnny. “pretty, isn’t it?”

johnny nods amidst laughter, his body folded into himself as he clutches the counter for support.

-

fuck. baker!simon might even be better than biker!simon

[anakinstwinklebunny]

hear me out…

mafia!anakin opens a café as a laundering front and hires reader who is completely clueless to what her boss does…?

ps i feel like i’ve sent a bajillion suggestions for bunnytine’s (it’s literally 2 pls-) but i hope it’s not annoying you sksk

- 🐮

𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭..

PAIRING: mafia!anakin x f!innocent!baker!reader

You loved working at Skywalker Coffee.

The rustic wooden counters, the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls in the morning, the little bell that jingled whenever someone walked in..

And the owner?

ANAKIN SKYWALKER.. honestly you weren’t sure how he ended up running a café. He never smiled, always wore black, and spent more time sitting in the back, ordering only a black coffee. No sugar. No cream. It had to be hot, not warm. He would sent it back.

But, no matter how suspicious he was, how weirdly annoying he was, he paid well. And what was more important to you, he let you bake whatever you wanted. You just had to make a profit out of it.

And he definitely made your stomach do weird things whenever he looked at you.

So your job was very simple:

Take orders. Bake desserts. And under no circumstances, ever, go downstairs. To which you had no idea why. But anakin was weirdly strict about it.

“The downstairs storage is off-limits,” he had told you on your first day, blue eyes piercing you in half. “If I ever catch you down there, you’re fired.”

That was all he said, really. No further explanation. No more to say. And since you were a good employee, a sweet girl, someone who didn’t break rules, you listened, and instead, focused on finishing the orders.

You experimented with croissants on Wednesdays, made different type of brownies on Fridays, Mondays were always sugar-free planned. In the middle of it all, you perfected your scones, decorated cakes with frosting flowers while the café buzzed with popular activity.

Except… the customers were always a little weird. Too many rich men in tailored suits walked in and out. They never ordered much—just black coffee, a pastry here and there. They always nodded at Anakin, like there was some silent understanding between them.. they always, at the same time almost, headed downstairs, to the very place you were depraved from going

Yet you never questioned it. Because why would you? It's not like anything bad happened here, or downstairs ...

You were icing cupcakes when you heard the crash, the sharp voices, the slam of the furniture downstairs. Your heart stuttered, frosting bag slipping from your fingers as you turned your head to the side, breath catching.

The café was already closed. No customer waiting for you to pick up their order, just nothing...

You knew you shouldn’t.

You knew he’d be furious if he caught you snooping. But that still didn't stop you from going downstairs...to take a small, as quiet as you could, steps, with your hand supporting you on the cold wall.

Stupid girl

You couldn't really hear everything. Just Anakin's dangerous rasp that was sharp with a threat that made your skim prickle. he growled, tone soft yet oh, so deadly, “and I’ll cut your fucking hands off.”

Your fingers tightened on your apron.

You shouldn’t even be this close.

But then the Anakin turned around and you could see him more clearly—broad shoulders, dark suit stained with blood, eyes wild and nothing like the soft grins he gave you over the counter.

His gaze snapped to you immediately, and you saw it. Saw how his eyes narrowed, how his expression fell to something you could call a disappointment, before he finally decided to speak up first “Angel,” he said, voice low. “What did I tell you?”

You stumbled back, heart hammering. “I—I just—I heard—”

His eyes softened just a fraction—just enough for him to sigh, fingers brushing over his jaw as he crossed the space between you in a few long strides. At first you thought he might hit you but he only cupped your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with a mocking gentleness that made your breath hitch. “I told you to stay in the kitchen,” he murmured, voice low, gaze flicking over your face like he was checking for bruises, for blood, for any sign that you’d been hurt. But that quickly disappeared. “Can’t you just listen, sweetheart? Now I'm forced to do something I really hate” his gaze drifted to something - or someone - behind you, and before you could react to anything, there was darkness. You felt like you were floating, mind dizzy, not cooperating, just drifting drifting drifting drifting---

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake

[loafgeto]

ᝬ 𝗡𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗬 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬𝗦𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 ⤵︎

geto suguru x fem!reader

synopsis: you are the babysitter to twin girls. their adoptive dad, suguru, is normally dealing with work related issues and comes back one night with a treat.

cw: fem! reader, mdni 18+, explicit language, dilf geto suguru, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), creampie, dirty talking, fingering, squirting, some praising and usage of pet names (geto says princess, baby, and sweetheart, mister and sir are used for geto), you and geto basically fucking and trying to keep quiet while the girls sleep ;P

wc: 3.9k

a/n: hello guys, this is my first oneshot on here🙁 and if you know me, i’ve been obsessing over geto suguru and one of my friends suggested i write about him!! this oneshot isn’t proofread so it’s published however i wrote it like. i’ll go back soon to check for grammar or typo issues. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy because i know i will😋💯‼️

“Come on girls, it’s time for you two to sleep,” you call from the kitchen to the two girls that were sitting by the TV in the living room. After cleaning the table and washing dishes, you went to the girls in order to prepare them for bed.

Grabbing the remote to the TV, one of the girls suddenly whine. “But I don’t wanna sleep. I wanna watch TV still,” Nanako huffs, crossing her arms over her chest in persistence.

“Me too.. I like this show. Please miss Y/n?” the other twin, Mimiko frowns, pressing her stuffed animal close to her.

“I’m sorry girls.. you know your dad gave me your schedules and he firmly said for you two to be in bed by 8:30,” you remind the girls as the remote falls under your grasp and you hit the power button to turn the TV off. “Now if your dad found out I broke one of the rules, he might not let me be your babysitter anymore.”

Their eyes widen in shock and they end up complying to your words. It wasn’t necessarily true. Though, their dad would be disappointed, he wouldn’t fire you because of it. And that’s because you’re actually a great babysitter. The previous ones weren’t as bad, but the girls didn’t necessarily like them until you were hired.

Nanako and Mimiko were quick to like you as their babysitter, in which satisfied their dad and you began babysitting them constantly several weekdays and weekends. It had been three months since, and it’s like you were apart of the family.

Not only that, you were given a good pay every week just to watch and take care of them. He was a single dad, worked 5 days a week to provide for him and the girls, and well, extremely handsome. You were astonished to discover that he didn’t even have a partner. He always dismissed it, declaring he was too focused on his work to seek for a relationship.

Unfortunate. You were honestly attracted to him, but you didn’t get this job solely because of that. You genuinely needed money to support yourself, and since you had prior skills in taking care of children, you figured it’d be easier to earn that way.

You just happen to become interested in the dude. It was to the point you even started developing some romantic feelings for him. You started imagining yourself with him, with the girls, as a family. Even imagining him pinning you down on his bed and fucking you relentlessly. You felt guilty thinking about it all, but no one had to know.

For now, you hide your true feelings about him but still show your respect and care for him. And you weren’t certain but, you even considered that he might have something towards you too.

You tuck the two girls in their individual twin beds, making sure they were comfortable before reading them a bed time story. And when they finally fell into a slumber, you quietly slip out of their room, shut off the lights and close their door.

Venturing back into the kitchen, you decide to grab a small serving of the cookies you three baked for dessert earlier and settle in the living room before their dad got home.

You play on your phone for the remainder of the hour. Scrolling through social media and messaging friends back while munching on the cookies. You glance at the clock several times, reading the numbers before deciding whether to prepare a meal for their father or not. Usually, out of courtesy, you would cook him a simple dinner that he always appreciated by eating and complimenting how well you cooked it.

hello, mister geto. i was wondering if you wanted me to cook dinner for you so that when you get back, it would be ready? you sent him the message, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you waited for a response.

No later than 2 minutes, he replies. no need to worry. i’m getting takeout. thanks though.

Well, you guessed you were able to relax until then, which you found no problem in.

You took this moment to walk around the two story house and explore. Their dad gave you permission to do so, even allowed you to enter all of the rooms besides his unless necessary. You were allowed to touch items but handle them with care or else you’d pay for the damage. You often found yourself in the room where he stores series of novels and single books, and read there while the girls sleep.

This time, you decided to grab one of the books from the Percy Jackson collection and read in the living room before their dad came home. You didn’t know how many times you’ve read the series, but you enjoyed it, and could read it over and over again with no complaints.

By the time it was 9:30, you could hear the front door to the house click, indicating someone was using a key to open the house. You get up from the couch, deciding to greet their dad by the door. The knob twists and as you approach the large foyer, the door opens and their dad steps into the house.

Geto Suguru is definitely one in a billion. His eyes directly fall onto your figure when the doors open, and he found himself unable to break his gaze until he opens his mouth.

“Ah. Y/n,” Suguru was quite surprised with your greeting by the door, but he replaces his expression with a warm smile as he shuts the door behind him. “How was today? Were the girls good?”

“Today went well, as usual, Mister Geto. The girls were good. Did their homework, had dinner, and are sleeping right now,” you reply as he walks past you to get into the kitchen. He gives you a glance and nods, and you follow him.

“That’s good, I appreciate it,” Suguru implies as he enters the kitchen, placing the bag of takeout on his kitchen island table. He gives you another look before adding, “want some?”

“Oh- no, thank you. Please, it’s your dinner. You should enjoy it,” you decline with a polite grin as you went to the other side of the island table. Conversations were occasionally like this between the two of you, it may seem awkward, but it didn’t feel like it. “How was work today for you, Mister Geto?”

“Was alright. Just got dragged into some issues. Have to deal with it tomorrow,” Suguru sighs with an irritated groan. He starts untying the knot from the takeout bag and took out the boxes.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Hopefully things will be alright for you,” you reply with a slight frown. “You know I’m here to listen to your problems.”

“No worries, but I appreciate you,” Suguru chuckles softly. “By the way, you sure you don’t want any? I bought too much for one person.”

“I’d feel bad..”

“You should feel bad for not eating, especially when I offered,” Suguru slides one of the boxes over to you. “Come on. It’d be our first dinner together.”

You didn’t necessarily know how to respond and decide to just comply to his offer. You take the takeout box and a pair of chopsticks. “Well.. thank you, Mister Geto.”

Suguru only nods as a reply and you both start to eat in silence. You notice that he frequently sends you glances. Mind you, you’re wearing a dress. The length was mid-thigh and the attire was mainly for the girls since they wanted to play dress up. His glances caused you to ponder if he was becoming uncomfortable and you decide to bring up the matter but Suguru speaks first.

“The dress looks beautiful on you,” Suguru blurts out the compliment as your eyes meet his. You were appalled, to say the least. This unexpected compliment caused your heart to skip rapid beats.

“O-Oh.. thank you, sir.. The girls wanted to play dress up, so I came in a dress in order to do that,” you casually explain, trying not to express your fluster due to his words.

Suguru raises a brow, but smiles. “Yeah? I’m glad you and the girls have a close bond. They don’t have a mother figure but I believe you’re supporting that role for them. I’m genuinely grateful for you since I can’t always be there for them. And you’re always welcome here, even if you aren’t scheduled to babysit them.”

“I really appreciate that. Thank you so much,” you give him a smile. Honestly, how more can this man go to attract you?

“You thirsty?” Suguru brings up next as he starts walking towards one of the cabinets. He takes out two wine glasses, glancing at you for an answer. “I don’t have wine anymore, you fine with some juice or soda and we pretend like it’s wine or whatever?”

You laugh softly. “I’m fine with that.”

Suguru pours juice in the two glasses and hands you one of them. “Next time, I’ll have some wine prepared. Just don’t want the girls getting their hands on something they shouldn’t be touching.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll hide them extra careful. Besides, the girls are smart enough not to snoop in areas they aren’t supposed to,” you imply and Suguru chuckles, nodding in agreement.

“You’re right. Next time then.”

“Mhm. Next time.”

You and Suguru finish eating shortly afterwards. He remained at the island table, cleaning up the takeout boxes and messaging his employers on his phone. You went to the sink and began washing your glass cup, and afterwards, you’d finally prepare to go back home.

Suguru stood behind, unbeknownst to you. About to turn around in order to fetch his cup to wash, you felt the sensation of his body hover over yours. This feeling caused you to startle, but you remained poised and watch as he placed his empty cup in the sink.

“Don’t worry, I got it from here,” Suguru whispers in your ear. It sent shivers down your spine and you turn your head to meet his gaze. He was so close to you. His lips were reachable for you and your heart starts pounding.

“I-It’s okay.. I should be the one to..” you start to say as your eyes trail from his lips and up to his eyes. “..wash them..”

You and Suguru stood there, locking eyes for who knows how long. It was cliche, but at that moment, you found yourself getting lost in his dark eyes. You felt your face burning and you were certain Suguru could see how flustered you’ve become. But you didn’t budge, and neither did he.

“Mister Geto..?”

“Fuck..” Suguru murmurs, finally breaking eye contact but remained in the same position. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just—“

He looks back up at you and the expression in eyes told everything.

In an instant, your lips found your way to his. Suguru immediately kisses you back, wrapping an arm around your waist while yours went around his neck. He gently pushes you against the kitchen island table, and he deepens the kiss with more passionate energy.

You pull Suguru closer, a hand going to grasp his hair as his free hand slithers under your thigh and he grips it. Suguru hoists your thighs up and moves his hand further under your dress.

“God.. you’re so beautiful. Wanna fuck you so bad, princess,” Suguru mumbles as he pulls away slightly from the kiss.

“W-Want you to fuck me.. Mister Geto..” you whisper through your pants as a smirk forms on his lips. He gives you another kiss, pressing his tongue against yours. You moan against mouth and he pulls away, sliding his hand up to cup your ass.

“Yeah?” He replies and you nod, feeling the tip of his middle finger trace the soaked area of your underwear. “Already so fucking wet, just f’me.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Suguru then began swirling his finger around your clothed clit, causing you to release a moan. Gosh. The feeling of his fingers just gently touching you already made you a complete mess.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” Suguru reminds you as he pushes your underwear to the side.

“Mhm.. want you to fuck me with your fingers, sir..” you mumble, still holding him by the neck.

Suguru wastes no time and pushes two of his longer fingers into your dripping pussy. You throw your head back slightly, gasping at the feeling before Suguru latches his mouth on your neck. He begins to pump his fingers in and out of you at a sensual pace, circling his thumb around your clit.

Your hand grabs the edge of the island table for support and the other covers your mouth, refraining your loud moans to echo throughout the house. But it just felt too good, that you could barely hold back.

“You hear that, princess? You hear how wet you are for me?” Suguru inquires, pulling back and dropping to his knees. His fingers pump a few more time before he lifts the dress up even more. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“M-Mister Geto..” you moan as you felt his mouth latch onto your pussy. His tongue starts to suck and lick your clit, as he proceeds to slide and curl his fingers in and out of you in a faster pace. “So good..”

Suguru thrusts his fingers deeper, hitting your spots. He uses his other hand to lift your leg over his shoulder for a better angle before pushing his fingers out. He licks your arousal dripping from your cunt and down your thighs before pressing his tongue into your pussy.

“S-Sir!” you throw your head back as you felt his tongue lick in and all around pussy. He gives a gentle blow to your clit before giving it several kitten licks.

Suguru returns two of his fingers inside of you, curling and pumping them at a quicker speed. Your moans escape from the tip of your tongue just like that. It was music to Suguru’s ears and he wanted to hear your sweet and erotic noises more.

The way your walls clench around his long fingers made him wonder how it’d feel like with his dick. Oh, how he wanted to test it out right now.

“G-Gonna cum.. Mister Geto..”

“Cum for me, princess. Cum over my face and fingers.”

A hand goes to grip his hair as he fucks your pussy with his mouth and fingers. You’re close, feeling his fingers curl in you to rub against your sensitive spots. Suguru quickens his pace so you’d cum faster when hearing your wet pussy squelch and moans get louder, messier.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.. cumming—“ you moan out, head falling back and your grip on the kitchen island table tightens as your cum squirts over his fingers and mouth.

Suguru continues to pump his fingers several times as you came, licking all of the juices that dripped from his mouth. He cleans your cum with his tongue, making sure to get every droplet that dropped on your skin.

He gets up, gently pushing his fingers in your mouth in order for you to get a taste of yourself. You suck and swirl your tongue over his fingers and Suguru’s expression turns more cunning.

“Didn’t think my kids’ babysitter was this naughty,” Suguru comments with a chuckle following.

“It’s cause of you..” you murmur as he removes his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva connected from your tongue and the tip of his fingers.

Suguru leans in to give you another kiss, lifting you off the ground with his strength and you wrap your legs around his waist. Your lips moves against his as he walks the two of you over to the living room, where he lays you down on the couch.

“Remember to keep your voice down, princess,” Suguru mutters as he trails his hand behind your back to the zipper of your dress. He gives you another quick kiss as you nod your head.

Suguru completely unzips your dress and lifts it over your head, tossing it to the side before examining your body with his eyes. “So perfect,” he says and lowers his body to kiss you again.

He grinds his body against yours and you could feel his bulge press against your clothed pussy. Even under all that clothing, you knew he was big. So big that you didn’t know if you could take it.

“Need you inside of me, Mister Geto. Please,” you whine as his hand slips under your bra to grope your breast.

“You that impatient?” Suguru chuckles against your skin before pressing several kisses down your neck and chest. But it’s obvious that he’s completely mesmerized. “Need my dick in you so badly, hm? I’ll give it to you, baby.”

Suguru unzips his pants, taking his hard cock out. It sprung up, already dripping in pre-cum. Your eyes were glued on his dick, mouth practically open. Your pussy quivered with the sight of it, knowing it’d be slipping in and out of you soon, making you beg for more.

He could feel his face flush as quickly takes off his shirt and he begins pumping his cock several times with his hand. “Can’t wait to feel your pussy around my cock.”

Suguru slips your underwear off, tossing it to the side with your dress and spreads your legs further apart before aligning the tip of his dick to your entrance. You bite your lip, feeling his tip glide against your wet folds.

“Still so wet..” Suguru murmurs, dick twitching with the feeling of your wet entrance. “Been waiting for this moment..”

“Me too.. sir..”

He pushes his cock inside of your pussy slowly, feeling your walls clench around him at an instant. You both let out moans, and Suguru lowers his body over you while using both of his hands to grab your hips.

Suguru was big, so fucking big. He stretches you out perfectly, as if your pussy was made just for his cock.

“Fuckkk,” Suguru grunts, pushing his entire length into your pussy.

“So big.. Oh g-god. Mister Ge—“

“Suguru. Call me, Suguru,” he interrupts as his face drops to your neck.

“Suguru..”

Hearing you say his name for the first time brought a warm feeling to his heart, it was so soft, sweet and affectionate. The way you looked at Suguru made him wonder if you actually felt the same way about him.

With no hesitation, Suguru thrusts immediately, grunting during the moment when he feels his cock grinding against the walls of your pussy. You cover your moans with your hand, and his thrusts become faster and deeper, hitting every sensitive part of your pussy.

“Fuck! Suguru-!” your arms wrap around him, nails beginning to claw his back.

Your moans start to resonate the room, despite trying to lower it, his cock was just too good. He thrusts fast, his balls slapping against your cunt and you swore you could feel him penetrate your womb. The wet and erotic sounds of skin slapping and your wet pussy starts to permeate the room and Suguru covers your mouth with his, refraining your loud moans to travel to the second level of the house.

Suguru’s pounding you so fucking good, just like you’ve always imagined him doing. But this was way better than all your imaginations and dreams. You’re in pure bliss, overwhelmed with the feeling of how good his cock his. Your legs wrap around Suguru’s waist as he thrusts his cock deeper and deeper as he could, enjoying your moans falling into his mouth.

“Fuck.. your pussy feels so good princess,” Suguru says as he pulls his lips away from yours.

He slips his cock out before pushing two fingers inside of your pussy and rubbing your clit with his thumb again. He thrusts them several times, getting moans out of you before slipping them out.

Suguru flips your body over, and you prop yourself with your two hands while his hands travels back to your hips. He grips the side of your hips, spreading your ass cheeks before slamming his cock back inside of you, making you wince.

“Suguru!”

This position made you feel him so deep inside. His cock rubs against your g-spot every thrust, making your body tremble and moans escape even more. Suguru noticed this made you louder, and he found it amusing and cute how you’re trying to stay quiet as possible.

Your pussy is clenching him so tight, making him grunt and moan. God, he knew he’d love this feeling. “F-Fuck, princess. Squeeze my cock just like that.”

“S-So close again.. Suguru-“

Suguru’s grip around your hip tightens to the point his hand print was marked and he fastens his pace, his hips slamming into your ass and the couch starts creating squeaking noises. Your upper body drops to the couch, unable to withstand propping yourself up. Your moans are buried within the couch and your back arches more to allow Suguru to fuck you deeper.

He could feel how deep he’s going in your pussy, it drove him insane. Fucking your kid’s babysitter should be the last thing to think of but he couldn’t help himself, especially on the first day he met you. For one, all he knew was that he wanted you. Wanted to hear you moan, cry out his name and kiss him. Wanted to cum inside of you and make you squirt. He’d make you his.

“Gonna cum soon, baby— fuck,” Suguru grunts, lowering his body over yours. One of his hands goes to grab your face, making you turn to face him. You both share a sloppy kiss, moans bouncing off each other’s tongues.

“Want your cum in me, Suguru..”

“Yeah? Gonna pump some into your womb. Gonna make you mine.”

You can barely speak, your mind becomes foggy and your eyes are rolling back. Moans can only tell how you’re feeling, and it’s enough for Suguru to know he’s fucking you the best.

Suguru’s lips trail down your neck and to your shoulders, and he peppers several kisses against your skin. He gently bites the skin of your back, returning his grip to your hips as he quickens his thrust, pounding you from the back.

“Fuck, fuck. I-I’m all yours, Suguru!” you cry out, trying to grip the seat of the couch as you reach your next orgasm. 

“Cumming too, shit—“ Suguru grunts, his dick pumping cum into your womb as you squirt over his cock and couch. He gives several slow thrusts, feeling the walls of your pussy pulsating and squeezing all of his cum out. 

You’re both panting and sweating, processing the moment that just occurred. Suguru’s cock is still buried deep inside of you, gaining the warm feeling of your pussy. He groans, finally slipping his cock out. 

His cum mixed with your juices drip out of your pussy, streaming down your inner thigh and onto the couch. Suguru is breathing heavily and he lowers his body in order to press a kiss against your temple. 

“Wanna stay here for the night?” Suguru questions, lips near your ear. 

“I don’t know..” you reply, turning your head to him before he kisses your lips. “I don’t have extra clothes.”

“Wear mines.”

Suguru kisses you once again, trying to convince you further.

“Come on. It’s late, besides you and I need a shower. And clean up the mess we made,” Suguru continues with a short chuckle. “Plus, I’m sure the girls will be thrilled to see you in the morning.”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding your head. “Okay.”

LOAF4U. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

[twilightkitkat]

Can we talk about the dynamics of Logan "I eat anything and scarf it down immediately" Howlett and Wade "I only eat the same 10 foods in different fonts" Wilson?

Logan is used to living without. Even as a child, he had to get by when he was sick with the food his family could afford. Once he joined the military, he had to survive on the limited rations he was given. He didn't have room to be picky—he either ate what he was given or didn't eat at all. And in war, he had to eat eventually.

His preferences didn't matter. He was always treated as a soldier, a weapon, and his food reflected that. He'd get enough protein and carbohydrates to fuel his power but that was it. Food was for functional use, not to be enjoyed. It didn't matter if it tasted disgusting, he just inhaled it so the taste wouldn't linger.

He's also an extremely quick eater. He's feral and ravenous when hungry, tearing into meat with his claws and hands. He lived in the army, in the mountains, through the Great Depression, and in dangerous situations where he hunted for himself. To him, food is a scarce resource and if you don't eat it while you can, you might not have it tomorrow. So he takes gigantic bites and tears into food no matter how bland and unappealing it was because that's all he knows. His standards for food are just that it has to have nutrients and not be poisoned.

Wade, on the other hand, is more picky. If he had to choose between eating something he hates or not eating, he'd rather just starve. At first, in the army, he did eat what was given to him even if he disliked it, but it was purely for survival. He choked it down even when it made him vaguely nauseous and disgusted. But later, he'd hoard stashes of his own food that he managed to steal or barter for or bet on. It was better to be hungry most of the time than satiate his hunger temporarily only to fight to keep it down and feel sick the entire day.

The second he has the freedom to pick his own food, he sticks to things he knows he likes. That he feels comfortable with. He's picky about brands and specific types of food and how it has to be cooked or made, but he manages. He can normally find something on the menu he's OK with, even if he often has order a kid's meal. But most places have grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken tenders and macaroni, and people chalk it up to him being childish and silly, so nobody pays much attention.

Wade sees food as one of the only things he can control. He's been devoid of true choice for most of his life. He couldn't control getting cancer or being forced to turn into a horrific mutant. He couldn't save his relationship with Vanessa. When everything around him was collapsing, he hyperfixated on the little things he could control like food or clothing.

The two, together, learn to have a healthier relationship with food.

Logan was the first person to truly pay attention to Wade. To see which foods he liked and which he picked at and grimaced towards when nobody was looking. When Logan abruptly said he'd cook dinner one day, Wade was nervous, but nearly started bawling when Logan made homemade chicken tenders and macncheese. He noticed. He cared.

It was the first time Wade could be open and let someone see he was genuinely affected by food instead of him just playing it up as a lunatic. And Logan took him seriously and didn't make fun of him. He learned recipes to make the foods Wade liked but healthier and more balanced. He helped Wade finally get the nutrients he needed consistently without feeling sick to his stomach.

And Wade helped Logan too.

Logan was never allowed to have preferences. To have a sweet tooth or ask for more. To expect quality. But here Wade was, buying him some apple cinnamon-filled pastry just because he looked at it too long in the store.

Logan was never allowed to have dessert. To have sweet food just for the sake of it even after a meal. His eyes become wet as he clutches the pastry between his shaking hands and takes a bite. He's allowed this. To have the comforts in life. To eat just because it tasted good.

Someone cared about him enough to buy him what he wanted just because he'd enjoy them, not just to keep him functioning as a tool. Wade treated him as human. Like he was precious. Like he deserved the nice things in life.

And Wade reminds him of this. He stocks their kitchen with desserts that Logan likes, because he knows that Logan secretly enjoys sweet things. He sees the way he sniffs the air and wanders close to the fresh-baked goods of a bakery. He keeps snacks around the house, so Logan can eat whenever he want. Even if it isn't a "necessary meal."

And Wade learns to be more comfortable and try new variations of foods he likes that Logan makes. Because Logan knows the textures and flavors he hates and is somehow able to create a few new dishes entirely that he likes. He stops dreading mealtime or trying new foods. And Wade feels comfortable just trying the food without pressure, knowing that he can just not finish it if he doesn't want to and that someone else will.

And Logan learns to let himself enjoy eating again. To see it as less of a chore for the maintenance of his body and more as an enjoyable activity. Wade reminds him that he can eat just because he wants to and that it's OK to have preferences and ask for things. Logan feels well cared for. Pampered, almost. And he basks in the feeling of being wanted and loved and being allowed to express it through cooking and food.

[vrystalius]

How would Sanemi and Tengen react if they were jealous? For example,a random guy looked at his wife and said a compliment.

❕Sanemi and Tengen’s reaction of a guy trying to hit on his wife.

Someone is trying to hit on you while you’re on a date with your husband. How will he react?

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! I had lots of fun writing this. Sorry about Tengen’s part being so short, I got really tired. My requests are open and I look forward to writing more! <3

Pairing: Sanemi, Tengen x fem!reader

(Creep behaviour in Sanemi’s part, mentioning of sickness and vomiting in Tengen’s)

💚 Sanemi Shinazugawa 💚

— Sanemi really looked forward to finally go on a cute, simple date with you again. He’s a very busy person with a lot of responsibilities, and he felt like he was neglecting you for a while now. So, Sanemi planned out a cute date for you two: first stop, the main city. A new restaurant just opened and Kyojuro seemingly really enjoyed it, so he decided to take you out for a nice night. After eating, Sanemi wanted to take a walk with you on the outskirts and maybe do some light shopping, and then finish the night off with making some desserts together at home.

— Sanemi held you close to himself, lazily wrapping his arm around your waist and glancing at you every now and then. You made yourself look so pretty tonight, he can’t help but stare a little. Your pattern kimono was matching his new yukata he recently bought. You’ve made your hair look really pretty tonight, even though it’s always gorgeous.

— After eating out, he spotted a gold-plated hairpin with green gems in a shopwindow. He didn’t want you to spot it right away and gift it to you as a nice present to remember this day by, so Sanemi send you out on a mission to go to the sweet-stand across the street and grab some sweets for yourself and some ohagi for him.

— As you were ordering, you cannot help but notice how overly friendly the stand-owner was talking to you. He asked you what moved you to be out here tonight, what you were planning on doing and if you were alone. You mentioned multiple times that you were here with your husband, and that you were buying the ohagi for that said husband. The owner didn’t seem to care and shrugged it off.

“How about we talk for a little more? You’re nice company, and I might give you this stuff for free if you do.”

— This guy was seriously creepy. You expressed multiple times that you had a husband and were not really interested in holding a longer conversation with him. That made the owner pout and whine about your behaviour and how ungrateful you are. He just offered to give this to you for free!

“Didn’t you hear her, dipshit? She’s. Not. Interested.”

— While you two talked, Sanemi came back from the shop. He was surprised that you weren’t finished purchasing yet, so he wanted to make sure everything’s alright. That’s when he noticed how uncomfortable you seemed. You had a scowl on your face and your eyebrows were furrowed. You seemingly still tried to be nice and kindly push this creep away in a nicer and gentle manner and just get the damn sweets you ordered, but that guy just kept going.

— Sanemi was fucking mad. He waited to have this nice date with you since forever, and now this creep was fucking ruining it. He balled his hands into fists after threatening the stand owner, standing beside you. His blood is boiling, and it’s starting to get hard to hold back and make sure this guy will never be able to creep out another woman like this with more violent means.

— Realising that Sanemi was the husband you meant, the owner apologised to you and handed you your sweets and ohagi. He seemingly didn’t expect your husband to be this intimidating looking.

— After walking off and taking a small walk, not even ohagi managed to lift his mood. Sanemi was so pissed at this creep for making you uncomfortable. Ohhh, how badly he just wants to go back and beat this shithead into the curb.

— Sanemi’s mood lightened up slightly after seeing your happy face when he gifted you the hairpin after you and him got back home. He was glad that this date night wasn’t complete shit.

“Let’s go on another date again. This time in the woods or something, picking flowers n’ shit. I don’t wanna go back there for a while.”

🩷 Tengen Uzui 🩷

— Tengen and you went out to run some errands. The other girls got sick with the flu and you and your husband are the only ones who are still healthy. So, you two went out to grab some medicine, food, (a new carpet after Makio accidentally threw up on the old one) and some blankets for you and your husband, since Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru stole the cosiest ones.

— While you two shopped, Tengen remembered that he promised to pick up a basket of sweet potatoes for his friend Kyojuro the next time he went out. So, he quickly dashed off to grab one.

— But while Tengen was gone, another man quickly found his place beside you and struck up a conversation.

— This man seemed nice, complimenting you on your appearance and choice of blankets. He was seemingly flirting with you, and you noticed that. You tried subtly explaining that you wanted to buy blankets for you and your husband, the husband you loved very much.

“Well, your husband is very lucky to have such a beautiful lady like you.”

“Beautiful? Surely you meant astonishingly gorgeous, flashy, beautiful AND incredibly attractive? Yes, I’m extremely lucky!”

— While this man was complimenting you, Tengen snuck up on you two and scared the life out of this random man with his voice. He easily held the basket of a sweet potato on his shoulder with one arm, towering over this man and looking down at him.

— Tengen doesn’t really get jealous. He trusts you and will instead show his affections to you right in front of the person, making them uncomfortable enough to leave. He would wrap his arm around your waist and coo at you, calling you cheesy petnames and smooching you all over your face. Sometimes, if he feels especially playful today, he’d cup your face and kisses you, holding his lips on yours for up to ten to fifteen seconds, or until you need air to breathe. This would make any person trying to flirt with you so uncomfortable, they’d quickly disappear.

— After an event like this, Tengen would tease you immensely about it.

“See? I’m not the only one who knows that I have the flashiest wife in all of Japan. No, no… the flashiest wife of the whole world!!”

💠

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here’s my Hashira masterlist.

Here’s my Demon masterlist.

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 18 (final part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 3,068

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI

After a few hours of reading, you closed your book with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m bored. And hungry.”

Bucky just chuckled, closing his own book and looking over at you. “Alright. Where do you wanna go?”

You just hummed, then looked at him with a smile. “We should go somewhere nice. First official date as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “I know a place.”

He stood, grabbing your book from your lap, then reaching out his hand to help you up. You took it and stood, then laced your fingers with his as you made your way back to the car.

He opened the passenger door for you, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in, leaning back and tossing the books back into the bag in the back seat.

The drive wasn’t long, just about twenty minutes, with soft music playing on the radio and your fingers still laced with his over the center console. You tried to guess where he was taking you, throwing out random names of restaurants and diners around the city, but he just smirked and shook his head each time.

When he finally pulled up to a charming, warmly lit restaurant tucked on a quiet street corner, you let out a delighted little gasp.

“This is perfect,” you said, already reaching for your door handle.

“Ah, ah,” Bucky scolded playfully, immediately getting out and circling the car.

You just smiled, heart fluttering a little as he opened it for you and held out his hand. You took it gladly, stepping out, and as soon as you were on your feet, he gently tucked your hand into the crook of his arm.

“Such a gentleman,” you murmured, teasing.

He just smirked. “You bring it out of me.”

Inside, the hostess greeted you with a warm smile and led you to a cozy table near the back, the lighting soft and golden. Bucky pulled your chair out before you could even think to reach for it, then sat across from you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with a fondness that made your cheeks warm.

You both scanned the menus for a few minutes before placing your orders, and once the waitress walked away, you both settled in comfortably, conversation flowing easily.

“You know,” you said, twirling your straw in your drink, “if you keep being this perfect, I might get used to it.”

Bucky grinned, leaning back in his seat, one arm resting over the back of the chair beside him. “That the worst thing that could happen?”

You tilted your head in thought. “Hmm…no. But it does raise the bar significantly for everyone else.”

He leaned forward a little, voice low and teasing. “Good. I don’t want anyone else to try.”

You rolled your eyes with a soft laugh, but your smile lingered as you rested your chin on your hand. “You know, I like this. Just…us. Normal.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Me too, doll.”

The food arrived not long after, and the conversation shifted from mission stories and random Avengers chaos to childhood memories and bucket list dreams. You laughed so hard at one of Bucky’s sarcastic remarks about Sam that you nearly choked on your water, and he looked so pleased with himself it only made you laugh harder.

By the time the plates were cleared, you felt full – not just from the food, but from the warmth of the night, the comfort of Bucky’s presence, the soft kind of happiness that didn’t need to be loud to be real.

And when the waitress asked if you wanted dessert, Bucky looked at you and asked, “You want something sweet?”

You smiled. “I already got you.”

He groaned at the cheesiness, but he was grinning like a fool.

“Alright, now you’re just trying to kill me,” he said with a chuckle.

“Okay but seriously,” you said, looking at the waitress and raising an eyebrow, “what do you have.”

She laughed softly before handing you a dessert menu, telling you she’d give you a few minutes and stepping away.

Bucky clutched his chest as if you’d wounded him, eyes wide with mock betrayal.

“You actually do want something sweet?” he gasped.

You grinned, totally playing along. “I do. I can’t help it. I’m craving something rich and chocolatey.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. “Unbelievable. I give you my heart, and you throw me aside for dessert.”

You snorted. “Please, like you weren’t planning on stealing bites the second it shows up.”

He narrowed his eyes with a smirk. “Bold of you to assume I like sweet things.”

Before you could reply, the waitress returned, and Bucky turned on the charm like a switch. “She’ll have the chocolate lava cake, please.”

You rested your chin on your hand and smiled at him. “You know me so well.”

“I do my best,” he said with a wink.

When the dessert arrived, you practically lit up, grabbing a spoon and diving in with a satisfied hum. “Oh, this is so good.”

You held out a spoonful to him. “C’mon, just one bite.”

He leaned back slightly, shaking his head with a half-smile. “I’m not a big sweets guy.”

You froze mid-spoon lift, gasping dramatically. “Excuse me?”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“You don’t like sweets?” You blinked at him in mock horror. “So you don’t like me?”

His grin turned sly. “Oh, I like you plenty. I can handle some sweetness.” He leaned forward slightly, voice low and teasing. “I’m just saving my dessert for later.”

You paused, caught completely off guard by the heat in his tone. Your brain short-circuited for a second, your cheeks heating as your spoon hovered in midair. But then you laughed, biting your lip and shaking your head.

“Wow,” you said under your breath. “Did not see that one coming.”

But inside, your thoughts were far less composed. The words replayed in your head on a loop, and suddenly, your legs felt a little weaker under the table.

You finished the dessert with a flurry of shared smiles and lingering glances, and when the waitress brought the check, Bucky was already reaching for his wallet.

“I can–” you started, but he was already slipping a card onto the table.

He gave you a look. “I’ve got it.”

You shrugged, completely unbothered. “Good. Because I didn’t even bring my wallet.”

That got a real laugh out of him, head tilting back slightly. “Unbelievable.”

You just grinned smugly, pushing the empty plate toward the edge of the table. “What can I say? I like being spoiled.”

He leaned closer, lips curling into a soft smirk. “Good. I like spoiling you.”

And you couldn’t help it – your stomach flipped again, that light, happy flutter taking over your whole chest as you looked at him across the table.

The waitress came and took the check, then came back a moment later, setting it down with a smile. “All set. You two have a great night.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said with a nod as he stood, already moving around the table.

You started to push your chair back, but he was there before you could even touch it, gently sliding it out for you. You gave him a look as you stood, a smile tugging at your lips. “You really going for the perfect gentleman routine tonight, huh?”

He just offered his arm with a smirk. “Always, doll.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you toward the exit. He opened the restaurant door for you too, holding it until you stepped outside, then following close behind.

When you reached the car, he quickly jogged around to open the passenger door for you. “After you.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Careful, Barnes. If you keep this up, I might get used to it.”

He smirked. “Good. You should.”

The second you were buckled in, he shut your door and rounded the front to slide into the driver’s seat. He started the car, one hand on the wheel, the other settling comfortably on your thigh.

At first, it was casual – his thumb rubbing slow circles into your leggings. But then his hand started to drift. Just a little. Barely noticeable.

Except your stomach noticed. Immediately.

You glanced down, then shot him a look, grinning. “You know that’s illegal, right?”

He looked far too smug for someone who was definitely not watching the road as closely as he should’ve been. “What? My hand? It’s just resting.”

“Resting doesn’t involve slowly creeping up my thigh like that,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

His thumb moved just a little higher. “You sure? Feels pretty natural to me.”

You snorted, trying not to squirm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he added casually, “if you didn’t want me touching you, you wouldn’t be wearing these leggings. They’re criminal, doll.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “Oh, so it’s my fault now?”

“Completely,” he said without missing a beat. “You wear them, I suffer. It’s a crime against me, really.”

“Uh-huh.” You leaned your head back against the seat, trying to hide your smile – and how warm your skin was getting under his palm. “You’re laying it on thick tonight.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, flashing you a grin. “You looked too damn good crawling across that bed earlier. It’s burned into my brain now.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “You’re such a menace.”

He chuckled, voice low and rich. “You love it.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “Unfortunately.”

He laughed again, and you felt his hand squeeze your thigh gently – still wandering dangerously close to territory that was definitely not rated for a public highway. But his grin stayed playful, teasing, never crossing the line.

And the whole ride back, the two of you kept trading jokes and flirty banter, your laughter filling the car, the heat between you simmering quietly – the kind of warmth that promised more later, once you were back behind closed doors.

By the time you pulled up to the compound, your face hurt from smiling and your stomach still fluttered every time Bucky’s hand moved just a little higher on your thigh.

He parked the car and turned off the engine, glancing over at you with that same teasing smirk he’d worn all night. “You good?”

You raised a brow. “You mean aside from being relentlessly harassed in the passenger seat?”

“Harassed?” he scoffed, feigning offense. “That was gentle affection.”

You snorted. “Your definition of gentle needs some serious revision.”

He only grinned more, unbuckling and hopping out. You reached for your handle, but – of course – he beat you to it, opening your door with a flourish and offering his hand.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you said with a curtsy of your head as you stepped out.

He shut the door behind you and leaned in. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You walked side by side into the compound, your steps slow, a bit lazy from the comfortable buzz of good food, warmth, and the lingering tension still dancing between you. The building was quiet – most of the team already turned in for the night. The low hum of lights and soft echo of your footsteps filled the halls as you headed toward his room.

The second you turned the corner toward his hallway, Bucky’s hand found your waist and pulled you in closer, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. “Still sweet?”

You glanced up at him, meeting those blue eyes with a challenge. “Why? You planning on testing that theory?”

His grin was slow and dangerous, his hand tightening just slightly on your waist. “Maybe.”

“Well then,” you said, opening his door, stepping inside, and tugging him in by the front of his shirt, “let’s see.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and the second it did, Bucky was on you.

One hand stayed on your waist as his other came up and cupped your face as his lips met yours. His fingers slid back into your hair as the kiss deepened, and your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, your bodies pressing flush.

You walked backward blindly, lips never parting, until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere – your waist, your back, skimming the hem of your sweater and slipping underneath. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers on your skin, warm and a little rough, his touch reverent and searching.

He picked you up effortlessly, laying you down on the bed as he climbed on and hovered over top of you. He used his knee to part your legs, then settled in between them as he leaned back down to you.

His lips crashed into yours again, more urgent now. He pulled your sweater up and over your head, tossing it aside without even looking, then leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses down your neck, taking his time like he had nowhere else to be but with you.

You gasped when he reached a sensitive spot near your collarbone, your hands tightening in his shirt before you started pulling it up. His red henley joined your sweater on the floor, and your fingers traced over the defined lines of his chest, the contrast of soft skin and firm muscle beneath your palms making your stomach flip.

His hand slipped underneath your back, unhooking your bra, then pulling it off of you.

His eyes dragged over you with quiet reverence, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the center of your chest.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, lips brushing over your skin with every word. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your breath catching as his kisses trailed lower – over your ribs, down your stomach – each one deliberate, slow, like he was savoring you.

“Still sweet?” he whispered again, his smirk returning as he glanced up at you, lips just above the waistband of your leggings.

You arched an eyebrow, challenging. “You tell me.”

That was all the permission he needed.

His fingers hooked into the band of your leggings, dragging them down achingly slow. “I plan on finding out,” he murmured, the heat in his voice sending a shiver through you. “Told you I was saving dessert for later.”

He kissed your hipbone, then lower, his voice rough with want as he added, “And I’ve been starving, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched again as he settled between your thighs, and then his mouth was on you – warm, purposeful, and utterly devastating.

You cried out, fingers threading through his hair, hips instinctively rolling toward him. He held you firm, one hand gripping your thigh as the other slid slowly up your side, grounding you.

“Mmm,” he hummed, wicked and pleased against your skin. “Knew it. Fucking sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

You were already trembling, pleasure curling low in your belly, but that voice – his voice – was what unraveled you. He kept talking between kisses, every word more sinful than the last.

“Could spend all night right here, doll…tasting you, hearing those sounds…”

You whimpered, and he chuckled darkly. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Let go for me baby.”

It didn’t take long.

And when he finally pulled himself back up over you, his mouth found yours again – slow, deep, dizzying – and when you tasted yourself on his tongue, your whole body lit up all over again.

And for the rest of the night, he made good on every promise his voice had made.

--

The soft hum of the alarm drifted through the room just after sunrise.

You didn’t move.

You were still curled against Bucky’s chest, your leg draped over his, your body tangled with his beneath the sheets. His arms were wrapped around you, protective even in sleep, one hand resting over the curve of your waist like it belonged there.

You felt him stir before the alarm clicked off – his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, laced with sleep.

“Mm,” you hummed, eyes still closed, “no it’s not. It’s too early to be morning.”

He chuckled softly, and the sound rumbled through his chest against your cheek. “Fair point.”

You both lay there in the stillness for a while, no rush, no expectations. Just the warmth of the covers, the quiet hum of the compound beyond the walls, and the comfort of being exactly where you were supposed to be.

Eventually, you shifted just enough to look up at him. His hair was tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the soft look on his face when he met your gaze made your heart flutter.

“What?” you whispered, smiling.

He shook his head slightly. “Nothin’. Just…never thought I’d be waking up like this.”

You let your fingers drift lightly over his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Kind of crazy how fast everything changed.”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, but he looked at you with that rare kind of softness that was reserved only for you.

You tucked your face back into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and let your thoughts wander. It really was wild, how different everything felt now. How not long ago, he was the quiet, brooding guy in the corner, the one everyone called grumpy. The one who barely spoke to anyone.

And now?

Now he was the one who kept your toothbrush in his drawer. Who ordered your dessert without asking. Who kissed you like it was the only language he knew.

“Y’know,” you said softly, “you haven’t been that grumpy lately.”

He hummed, eyes closed again. “Don’t need to be. Not when I’ve got you.”

You felt your chest squeeze, your smile turning soft and full of something deeper.

“Guess the new girl fixed the grump,” you teased gently.

He smirked, eyes cracking open. “Nah. She just gave him something to smile about.”

You leaned up and kissed him, slow and sweet – no rush, no pressure. Just love. Real and full and steady.

And as the morning light spilled gently through the curtains, you stayed right there in his arms, knowing that this wasn’t the end of your story.

It was just the beginning.

--

Masterlist

Thank you guys so much for the love on this series!!!! I appreciate you all so much! I loved writing this, but I decided it was time to wrap it up...I have so much more in store for you all though!

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat @iyskgd @ohdrey89 @death-in-love @herejustforbuckybarnes @whitewolfluvr @violetpassionfruit @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @silas-aeiou @avengemepercy @starstruckfirecat @yehfitoormera @ifilwtmfc @navs-bhat @buckysgirl-12 @comfitchaotic @youknownothingjohnwatson @rnurse-kole

[sirhamburrger]

worth it - m. kaiser x f!reader in which you decide to give it another shot with with each other.

tags/cw: exes to lovers, crack (see original req ask) || wc: 1k-ish (i have gone insane)

courtesy of kai’s cat café! - 150 followers event café menu || order progress asks closed.

michael kaiser is convinced his life is 100% a joke. there’s no other explanation for why he’s currently sitting in a dimly lit, overpriced restaurant, waiting for a blind date that his best friend, ness, had insisted he go on.

it'll be fun, ness had said. you haven't dated since her, so just give it a shot.

michael doesn’t do blind dates, doesn’t do serious relationships, and he certainly doesn’t do surprises - which is precisely why he’d refused ness’s ridiculous proposition at first. but between his friend’s relentless nagging and his own begrudging admission that his love life had the excitement of a damp sock, he had caved eventually.

and now, as he swirls the wine in his glass like some kind of brooding movie villain, he wonders if this is the universe’s idea of a cruel prank.

because the person who just walked through the restaurant doors - the person he's meant to be on a blind date with - is none other than you.

michael nearly chokes on his drink at the first glimpse he gets of you. you don’t see him at first, distracted as you scan the restaurant, looking for whoever your own meddling friend had set you up with. when your eyes land on him, your entire body stiffens, and he watches as you cycle through the five stages of grief in record time.

he knows exactly what you're thinking, because he’s thinking the exact same -

out of all the people in the world, why you?

your relationship had ended on less-than-great terms. there had been yelling, multiple dramatic exits and even more dramatic re-entrances, and at one point, if he recalls correctly, a very unnecessary but satisfyingly cinematic slow clap. it had been over a year since the breakup, and though time was supposed to heal all wounds, he wasn’t sure if it applied to two people as ridiculously petty as the both of you.

you take a deep breath and approach the table, walking like someone being led to their inevitable doom. “this is a joke, right?” you say, pulling out the chair with a familiar enthusiasm - the enthusiasm with which one might do the dishes, maybe.

michael leans back in his chair, trying to appear nonchalant even though he’s nothing but. you look good, infuriatingly so.

“trust me, if i were trying to pull a prank, it’d be something a lot more elaborate than this.”

you sigh, shoulders slumping. “so, what? our friends thought it would be hilarious to set us up?”

“looks that way.”

silence stretches between you, heavy with the weight of tense, withering stares and poor life choices, and michael, for all his arrogance, finds himself at a rare loss for words. he should say something clever, maybe. something that would put him back in control of this bizarre situation. instead, he blurts out, “you look... less mad than i expected.”

you blink. “i just got here. give it a minute.”

a beat of silence. then, against all odds, you both snort at the same time.

somehow, you make it through the meal without either of you throwing your drinks in the other’s face. the conversation starts awkward, progresses to dangerous levels of sarcastic, and before long, you’re both swapping old inside jokes, complete with exaggerated impressions of each other. by the time dessert arrives, you’re laughing so hard you nearly snort crème brûlée out of your nose.

reality seems to hit the two of you, then, turning the sweetness of the custard bitter on your tongues.

you poke at your half-eaten dessert with your fork, your voice quieter when you finally speak again.

“do you ever wonder if we could’ve done things differently?”

he pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. he should brush it off, throw out some cocky remark. but instead, he casts his pride aside, sets his fork down and meets your gaze.

“yeah,” he admits. “i do.”

you nod as if you expected that answer. “at least we know our friends are absolutely useless.”

he scoffs. “truly the worst.”

the check arrives, and the night reaches its fated conclusion. you both step outside, the cool air nipping at your skin. for a moment, neither of you move, standing there like two characters in a sitcom finale that never got renewed.

finally, you exhale, pulling your coat tighter. “well. goodbye, kaiser.”

something in his chest tightens at the way you say it. he forces a smirk, shoving his hands into his pockets. “see you around, liebling.”

you roll your eyes at the old pet name but don’t comment. instead, you turn and walk away, down the block. the night seems to swallow you up in seconds.

he watches you go, exhaling. he should turn around and walk the other way. should go home, pretend this night never happened.

but then, just as you reach the corner, you stop.

you hesitate.

and then, as if it takes every ounce of courage you have, you turn back around.

“kaiser.”

he’s already moving before you say anything else, crossing the distance between you with the same reckless abandon he’s always had. you open your mouth, maybe to say something witty, maybe to say nothing at all, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

because before he can overthink it, before either of you can change your minds, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you.

it’s not perfect. it’s a little clumsy, and more a little desperate. but when you kiss him back, fingers tangling in the fabric of his jacket, he swears it might be the best decision he’s made in a long, long time. and when you finally pull away, breathless and a little stunned, you stare at him like you can’t quite believe what just happened.

michael grins, cocky and familiar and maybe just a little hopeful.

“so,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “think our friends would find it hilarious if we gave this another shot?”

you laugh, shaking your head. “they’d be insufferable.”

he hums, tilting his head. “worth it, though?”

you pretend to consider it, but you both already know the answer.

“yeah,” you whisper, smiling giddily. “worth it.”

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Bruce is the one to invite Constantine over, and no, it's not to improve his tenuous working relationship with the asshole. It's the opposite of that.

---

Danny had become a frequent visitor of Wayne Manor in the last few months, and Bruce had to admit that while the kid was certainly a bit ominous for his liking for a partner to Tim, he was a generally kind and happy soul. They'd been dating for a lot longer than the Bats knew of- Kon had been the one to let it slip to Jon who told Damian and so on- and since the relationship was no longer secret, Tim brings him to family functions.

The thing about Danny is... He's dead. More than half of the time. Which again, is not Ideal for Bruce's wishes for Tim's future husband, but it also means that he reviles in being alive. Danny is downright joyous about using his time left on earth properly. He makes Tim eat real food, enjoy real sleep and generally live a more fulfilled life than he had been. The whole family noticed the changes in Tim, and it made them like Danny even more.

So after a particularly grueling day of dealing with Trigon and therefore the JLD's lack of coordination and sensible planning- Bruce gets the idea. John couldn't fucking contain himself admonishing Bruce, and perhaps it was vindictive, but Bruce figures that John should meet Danny. Sans context of course.

...

John is really over dealing with Batman's prissy, over complicated and perfectionist attitude. Come to the Cave he'd demanded, as though John didn't have a favorite bar to get back to, deal with a ghost he ordered like John didn't have other priorities than some random shade.

When walking into the space however, the second his teleportation portal closed, John knew something was deeply, deeply fucked. The shadows were growing longer, the second hand on his watch ticked slower, the air smelled of sulfur and... Red Robin was sitting working at the computer like nothing was wrong. But what was wrong, was the kid was marked by The End. Marked by The Infinite. FUCK.

John knew Death, the Endless, and knew she could pick favorites just like her siblings (Dream's immortal drinking buddy comes to mind). But this wasn't her work, this was something other.

"Mate- the Bat said there was a ghost?" John feels like he might throw up, the eerie atmosphere complicating what should have been a simple request.

"Uh, obviously." The kid didn't even look over from his screen or pause his typing.

John slowly approached, looking over each shoulder a few times, turning in a few circles as the shadows appeared to dance and echo within the cave. He could see his breath, the air became so cold so suddenly. And then, with the gentleness of a pin drop, a new agonizing sound appeared with a Kid walking down the cave stairs. The aura of the room turned dark, every cell in John's body screaming to run, that this was basically the little girl from the ring crawling through the TV as the young man walked down the steps.

"Babe, your grampa says that dinners going to be ready in a second. Oh, uh, hey dude." The creature speaks, turning his eyes to John for only a moment to study him. It feels equivalent to a butterfly being pinned by its wings.

"Y-y-you, you're, you're one of the Endless?" John stutters, his body reacting in fear despite the nonchalant posture of the Beast. The young man rolls his eyes.

"Nah, one of the Ancients but like uh, I'm new in town. And hon seriously don't be late, A made tiramisu for dessert and you're not allowed to have any if you're late and I don't want to deal with you pouting."

"You had me at Tiramisu!" Red stands up from his computer and then turns, "John, what are you doing here again?" Red Robin finally looks over at him, completely confused.

"Just leaving." John mutters, his eyes still trained on the ANCIENT.

---

Bruce could barely hide his laugh when Tim reported the Magician meeting Danny in the cave.

That'll show the asshole to question Batman's knowledge of the occult.

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven (Bruce Wayne x f!reader) Part 2

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. It'll be into 2 parts, except if you ask for more. <3

You can find part 1 of this here.

Warnings: no proof reading, language, mention of blood and killing, angst/comfort

He met you up at the Italian restaurant and loved to place a hand on the small of your back. He loved even more how you instinctively leaned into his touch and side. He really couldn't go back to his world. This place was heaven, and he was going to take such good care of his new people.

He listened to everything you said and actually answered. He never checked on his phone and didn't show any sign of being in the rush. You noticed how relaxed he seemed. Just before the dessert, he even reached for your hand and gently kissed it. He openly flirted with you and did his best to make you laugh. It was his favourite sound, with your moans of pleasure.

"You're in a good mood today," You finally commented. "You even took the time to talk to the kids this morning. And not to order them stuff about patrol, " You whispered

It hit Bruce. Of course, the "kids" were the vigilantes he saw working with Batman. He couldn't imagine how amazing it must be to work with other people. To be the mentor of those people, too. Their leader. Maybe even their father? They were all so young, they clearly needed someone to be there for them. And you cared for them, like a mother.

"I... Last night was a little bit complicated, and I realise how lucky I am, that’s all," Bruce replied, hoping you might know something

"Yes, Dick and Cass told me you got attacked by that mad scientist and that he threw at you some weird potion. Luckily, nothing happened. You were a little bit dizzy when you came back home, and you instantly went to bed. I helped you undress, and you fell asleep on me, " You hummed. "Anyway, I'm happy if things…” You trailed off

“If things?” Bruce tried to get you to finish your sentence

“Could... be better, " You admitted and looked away

Bruce was speechless for a few moments. Were you saying that the Bruce of this world neglected his people? His own people? You? He fucking didn't deserve any of this then. It was making things so easy, no guilt, no mercy.

"What do you mean, love?" He asked with a tilt of the head. You still refused to meet his eyes as you answered:

"Well... You haven't been around a lot lately. I can't even remember the last time we had lunch together. And you... you aren't the nicest with the children... Jason came to see me for comfort after another argument with you. Steph had a nap with me on the couch after you pushed her too much during training..." You explained. 

You didn't want to ruin the moment, but you weren't too sure when you would be able to tell him about all of this. For once, he seemed open to the discussion and wasn’t distracted with his work. However, his silence worried you a little bit. Actually, Bruce was angry. It was obvious that the Bruce of this universe didn't know his luck. He was going to be better - oh, so much better - than him. It was a promise. He kissed your hand again

"I'm so sorry. I'll do better. With everyone." He told you, and you finally looked at him, astonished. You had expected some justifications or denials, not this.

"I'm so... relieved. Maybe you could have a little talk with all the kids? And I know that your relationships with the members of the Justice League were getting tense, too. We haven't invited the Kents at home in so long." You babbled. 

Bruce could tell how much you cared about the family and that you decided to push your luck. You wanted your children to be happy, and you wished for Bruce to do better with his friends as well. You were so caring. Bruce was falling even deeper in love with you, and he didn’t think that was possible.

"I will. I promise. What about us?" He asked. 

Of course, he was going to do his best for all those people he didn't know yet, but what he wanted the most was to be a good husband to you. He had fantasied about your life together so badly, and now that it was happening, it needed to be perfect.

You didn't reply right away, trying to quickly think.

"What about us?" You finally said

"I haven't been the best to you either," Bruce guessed

"You saw the divorce papers I asked from our lawyer, didn't you?" You internally cursed yourself. You should have been better

Bruce silently panicked but didn't show anything. Oh the fucker was really ruining everything. He needed to make you forget about this divorce. You were finally his wife, he wasn't going to lose you or let you go. You were his, like he belonged body and soul to you.

"Love,..." He started, but you cut him off

"I was just thinking about it, but I... I don't want to leave the family. It was just in case things went downhill, " You explained, a little bit concerned of what the man was thinking

"It won't," He reassuringly smiled at you

"What?"

"It won't go downhill. I'll do anything you all need from me. I'm so lucky to have all of you in my life. I can't take this luck for granted. I'll do better, " He promised

You weren't too sure Bruce wasn't lying, but you wanted to believe him so badly.

Bruce found a folder with information on all the people in Bruce's life on the batcomputer, and he was grateful for that. It allowed him to know about his history with everyone and to act on consequences. He did talk to everyone and tried to make things better. He apologised and offered his help. He took some time for everyone. He showed he was eager to make an effort. He showed he wanted everyone to be happy around him. He showed he was there for his people.

He also found the mad scientist.

He interrogated him in Arkham Asylum. The man hadn't thought a new Batman would come. He just thought it would send the Dark Knight into another world, and that was it. Bruce asked if there was a way to get the real Bruce back. The mad scientist refused to answer at first before admitting that yes, there was. After all, portals could go both ways. Bruce went to the scientist's repair and destroyed everything before paying hitmen to kill the man. There was no way he would come back to Hell. No way. He would even kill the former Bruce himself if he had to.

The night he came back from the scientist’s repair, he was his most charming self to you, bringing you a beautiful necklace full of diamonds. As he helped you put it on, he complimented you and kissed your skin. He seduced you all night.

In the bath with you, his hands never left your skin. He gently washed your body and hair. He tenderly massaged cream onto you. He covered you in kisses until you would giggle under his nonstop attention. You truly hoped Bruce would keep acting like that because you were falling back in love with him. Hard. You were happy, and you clearly didn't want to get a divorce anymore.

A few days later, you and the children had lunch all together. Without Bruce.

You all decided that a conversation was a necessity because “what was going on with the man for fuck's sake?”. It was impossible he changed that much in such a short period of time. It was obvious something happened with the mad scientist. But weirdly enough, he was now dead and his work was destroyed...

"It's not Bruce," Tim finally said

"What do you mean?" You frowned

"It's not the Bruce we knew. From what I've been able to find, the scientist was studying portals through different parallel universe" Tim added

"You're saying that... He switched of Bruces from two different worlds?" You asked

"I think it's what happened, yes." Tim nodded, and you all stayed silent for a little while

"What do we do?" Duke asked

"This Bruce is nicer," Jason commented

"And more caring," Stephanie added

"But it is not our father." Damian frowned

"But he is acting like one..." Dick replied

"And like a husband." Cass added "His body language... He is so in love with you, Y/N… Like he would do anything for you."

"I... I know.” You paused “Maybe we all deserve some happiness"

“Are you saying we should pretend we don’t know anything? Barbara asked “It’s true that the Bruce we had was… challenging, but he all saved us. And kinda took care of us. We don’t know what this man will do in the long run” she added, and you were forced to agree with her

“Let me talk to him” You offered, and everyone agreed.

You weren’t too sure when it would be the right moment to speak with your new husband about the situation.

One evening, as you were snuggled up in his embrace, you felt like it was the right time. It was only the two of you, and the day has been quite good for Bruce, so he was relaxed. You kissed his collarbone to bring his attention back to you. He instantly put his book down to look at you.

"Yes, love?" He hummed

“Who are you?” You whispered with a bite of your bottom lip

“What? You know who am I” Bruce pretended to laugh it off, but he tensed a little bit

“You’re different. The kids are little detectives, and they think you are coming from a parallel universe. And… I can believe that” You explained

“Why?” 

“Because my husband liked me, but never worshipped me like a divinity of love” You softly smiled

“Well, he should have” Bruce groaned

“So, this is true, right? You came from another universe. And the man I married is there, instead of you?” You asked

Bruce cupped your face and leaned his forehead against yours. He had been the happiest man in the world the past few weeks. He finally had everything he ever wanted and needed. He would sell his soul in exchange for keeping this life. He was terrified you would cast him away.

“He didn’t deserve you. Any of you. I guess he’s there, yes, but I don’t really know. And I don’t care. I want to stay here. Haven’t I been good to you? Don’t you want to keep me? Haven’t I been better than he was?” He pleaded.

You heard the fear and despair in his voice.

“Your world isn’t as nice as here then?” You asked 

“My Alfred died when I turned 18, so I never had the time to adopt any of the children. I did my best as Batman and CEO of Wayne Enterprises, but I’m alone and lonely. Maybe I fucked up too, because my life is a just a mess. I don’t know, but this is Heaven and my world is Hell.”

“We’re not married either?” You wondered

“I’m too much of a loser to interest you. No matter how madly in love I am with you. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to worship you. I’m so happy to finally have you as my wife. I’ll always cherish you.” He admitted and promised

You stayed silent, not knowing what to do anymore. This place was clearly a fresh and happy start for the man in front of you. But what about the Bruce Wayne of this world? Wasn’t it a cruel punishment to leave him in such a lonely place? At the same time, you weren’t sure the man you married would even take care of you like you now were. And you would miss that very much. The children deserved a better father, too. Jason actually started to hang out with this new Bruce. And now Jason knew it wasn’t the same man who betrayed him. Their relationship would be even better. There were so many advantages...

“Keep me” The man begged you “I’ll do anything you want” He whispered again

“I… do want you to stay. But I feel awful knowing he is in your world. Alone.” You admitted

“I can make you forget about him” Bruce offered before kissing you, his thoughts on ways to make everyone forget about the “real” Bruce Wayne.

He was going to stay in Heaven, no matter the price, no matter the sacrifice, no matter what. You kissed him back before gently pushing him away.

“What if he comes back?” You asked “Would you hurt him?” You continued

Bruce didn’t answer, so you knew he would kill him without hesitation. He was a love, attention, and touch starved man. He knew what it was to be so broken that nothing could work out. 

“Barbara and Damian… They need some convincing to not find a way and save the Bruce we knew. I still feel bad but… if I loved him, I know I’ve never felt for him what I’m feeling for you” You whispered

Bruce’s eyes lit up. Being loved by you because he was Bruce Wayne was a thing, but being loved by you because of who he was was so much better. He didn’t know what to say, so he deeply kissed you over and over again.

“Love you, love you so much. You’ll be happy with me. Everyone will be happy with me.” He whispered in between kisses

“You promise?” You breathlessly asked 

“I promise, my love”

--

Part 3

--

Taglist for all my work <3

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Taglist for this series <3

@bat1212

[churipu]

CALLING THEM "BRO" ₊˚⊹

featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro x reader

warnings. none

note. yes, bro

GOJO SATORU. thought he had misheard you the first time, but when you did it again, he was pretty offended — would start to wonder what he did wrong for a while, and thought that maybe you had a little slip up. but when you didn't stop for the next few times, he gets so annoyed, because who do you think you are to call him "bro"?

"bro, look at that cake, it's so cute." you tell him nonchalantly, pointing at the display window of a small dessert bar you both were passing by.

"what?" he asks, wondering if he had heard right.

"bro, what?"

"baby, who are you calling bro?" gojo grunts out, stepping away from you — and when you disregarded his question by using another "bro", gojo just drops everything and gets so pissy.

"bro. of course i'm talking to you?" you answered him innocently, still eyeing the cake.

"baby, is this your way of asking me for a break up? because i'm not going to accept that, and we're not going to break up," he whines, pulling you into his embrace, "stop calling me bro, what happened to calling me "baby", or "handsome", or "toru"?" he buries his head into your shoulder.

"i'm kidding, 'toru." you brushed his hair.

"i don't like that, don't ever call me bro again." he murmurs, kissing your cheek, nipping on the flesh lightly.

NANAMI KENTO. nanami is a calm man — he says nothing the first time he heard the word "bro" escape your mouth. squeezing your hand lightly, he figured that you might have just had a mix up with your other slangs.

"what do you want to eat for dinner, bro?" you ask the male who was standing in line beside you; as you both wait for people in front of you to order their food.

nanami stares you down, blinking his eyes slowly before looking towards the menu, "everything looks delicious, what are you having, darling?"

one darling. was almost the end game for you — but you're a strong-willed person, and you were not backing down unless nanami had given out a strong reaction to the word "bro".

"i was thinking the . . . gyūdon, looks delicious, bro."

nanami spared another look at you, "is there a reason why you're calling me 'bro', bro." he said, arching a brow.

now it was your turn to blink at him, not expecting him to be up into the game with you — laughing lightly, you squeezed his hand tightly, "i was trying to get a reaction out of you, kento."

"i prefer the term 'honey' or 'sweetheart', but bro works too, i suppose." he smiles lightly, pulling you close to him as the both of you got closer to the cashier.

if it makes you happy; he'd even let you call him bro.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. this guy. immediately hates the sound of "bro" rolling over your tongue instead of the word "baby" like the usual. he will be silent — and will stare at you from across the room, beside you, wherever he currently is to make sure his ear was not deceiving him at the moment.

"hey, bro. do you think you could pass the comic book to me?" toji's eyes immediately darts to you, arching his brow and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"what did you just say?" he asks slowly, sitting straight up.

"pass the comic book to me?" you replied, "bro. just pass me the damn comic book."

he grabs your chin, tilting your head towards him, "say that again?" he asks, his eyes blinking slowly — maintaining a deep gaze with your e/c eyes.

"baby, can you pass me the comic book?" you finally dropped the act, your cheeks hurting from trying to suppress a smile from appearing (which you were failing at), "please?"

toji lets go of your chin and grabbed the comic book, "don't ever call me that again, y'hear me?" he rolled his eyes, sloppily kissing your lips as he passes the comic book to your grasp.

"depends on my mood."

"you're insufferable." toji clicked his tongue with a small smile.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[haikyu-mp4]

it’s a rainy day at summer camp. one of the few evenings that greeted you with bad weather instead of the setting sun, and the result was Fukurodani’s volleyball team gathered around a small tv and taking turns in a Mario Kart tournament.

you walked into the room with an order from the coach to tell everyone to quiet down, and was intrigued by the choice of game and their lack of talent in it. “you guys suck.”

everyone who wasn't playing at the moment turned abruptly, some squinting suspiciously and some laughing. “think you could do better?”

and so you were thrown into the tournament, and oh boy did you knock them off their pedestals. they didn’t stand a chance.

it earned you almost everyone’s desserts from dinner the day after, and you happily munched on pudding cup after pudding cup while they pouted about it. you shared plenty of them with the other girls as well, and you all enjoyed their defeat thoroughly.

fast forward one year later, Bokuto has made friends with Nekoma’s captain, making Fukurodani and Nekoma closer than they were with the other teams.

when Bokuto is particularly annoyed with Kuroo’s taunting after he missed some spikes in a practice game, he challenges him to a round of Mario Kart after dinner. Fukurodani vs Nekoma, choose your fighter style.

Kuroo walks into Fukurodani’s room that evening, carrying Kenma along while the setter is still playing on his console and not even paying attention. the captain looks smug, confident in his best friend’s ability to win. until he sees Bokuto standing with his arms crossed and shielding their chosen fighter.

a couple of the others from Nekoma’s team had joined, curious as to why Bokuto would challenge them in video games when he knew Kenma was there. “why do you look so smug?” Kuroo asks suspiciously.

“because we brought our secret weapon,” he answered, dramatically moving to the side and gesturing towards you. you sat patiently on a pillow, waving at the other team and smiling brightly.

“hi, guys!”

Kuroo laughed, letting go of Kenma and waving back at you. “y/n, fancy seeing you here.”

Bokuto rudely pressed his hand into Kuroo’s face. “none of that, don’t distract our player before the match!”

and while they fought, Kenma sat down beside you, finally turning off his console as you held out the other controller for him. “making me second player, hm?” you laughed at his remark, nodding.

“home base is always first player,” you teased. Konoha patted you on the back and smirked at Kenma.

“you don’t stand a chance.”

he did stand a chance. it was a close race, and you must admit you broke a sweat using every little trick you could think of.

however, it was just a chance. one he didn’t master, and you ended up with a clear victory after a mystery box gifted you with three glorious red shells on the second round, ruining any head start he might have gained.

the whole of Fukurodani’s team got up and cheered, many shaking your shoulders or ruffling your hair to praise your efforts. you looked to the side, ready to taunt Kenma a bit, but he was already staring at you. his catlike eyes made you flustered, and you quickly looked away. “I’m going to bed. good game, Kenma!”

Kenma watched the highlight reel after you left, and Kuroo had to practically drag him out of there as he could barely accept his loss. red shells don’t always mean you win. how you use them matters, and you use them perfectly. the way you drifted as well was beyond any technique he had seen before in real life.

the day after, Kenma comes over to you table with his dessert as a peace offering, and sits down across from you with his head down. “so you’re a gamer, what else do you play?”

“not really a gamer, my cousin just always brought Mario Kart for family holidays.”

Kenma stared at the table for two minutes in silence as you continued eating your lunch and chatting with your team’s other managers until he finally broke out of his trance. “can you teach me?”

“sure, catboy.” you were already eating the pudding cup, giving him a teasing wink now that he seemed so shy. this was the start of a blooming friendship.

masterlist

/when me n @cottonlemonade start brainstorming, great things happen

/this is a drabble in my head but it’s way too long for that… also, what do you think nekoma owes fukurodani after losing??

[moonsaver]

i like the idea of sunday being this prim and proper church boy, absolutely gentlemanly so well put together. but the moment he meets the 'right person' he just turns into this high maintenance clingy princess........

HAHHA i kept thinking ab this ask randomly. It just kept popping up into my head from time to time.

I imagine in the start, maybe he's just getting a crush on you, or he's trying to drop hints – he's veeery gentlemanly. Opens the door for you, pulls out the chair for you, occasionally gifts you flowers, compliments you fairly well, etc etc..

And then in the relationship, he starts becoming a little bit clingy. It starts out faint at first – taking a few extra minutes to just hold onto you, kiss your face, occasionally hugging you from behind and holding on before you ask him to let go.

And then it gets worse.

Well, as "worse" as it can get actually. He's unfortunately quite adorable with it.

He sulks when you have to get up and out of bed, leaving him behind, when you leave to go to the bathroom. He'll be subtle, but he'll be sure you see it – turning his back to you, curling up into himself as if it's the cold winter and he hath no shelter until you coo and pamper him.

Only likes being touched by you – so for the most part he wants you to help him comb through his hair and wings. Only wants you to massage it and (gently) scratch them from time to time. It becomes a sort of habit or routine for you two – early mornings where he sits all propped up at the dressing table, waiting for you to gently comb through his bed hair and compliment the softness of it. Acts so shocked when you refuse, as if he hasn't heard it right. He'll continue doing his own hair, but you'll constantly, periodically hear from the other side of the room, or from the corners of the house – his sighs and the sad, victorian boy look in his eyes until you feel guilty.

He doesn't like eating desserts if you don't eat with him. He insists and even pesters you to occasionally text him random stuff during the day so he can talk to you. Acts passive aggressive when you comment on how pretty someone else's halo is. He'll sometimes sigh wearily and "accidentally" ponder out loud just when will his significant other finally pay attention to him?

You have to spoil him rotten with kisses and affection, and promise to go out on dates with him after, just to get him to stop being so melodramatic. Not to mention you have to big spoon him. And even then, he'll grumble into the crook of your neck until you pamper him a bit more.

Granted, he won't overdo it. But a few people, like Robin and your family, might know just how clingy he is. A simple "I can't come, sorry" from you is enough for them to understand that it's Sunday who's been (subtly) whining and sulking for your attention, and wounds up making you cancel some of your plans. Maybe you do enjoy staying in with him, maybe you don't. Either way, it's not bad. He does spoil you in return too – paying for all your show subscriptions, ordering whatever you want to eat, big spooning you whenever you want. There's many other ways he can pay you back, too.

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