#they're frequently bought together

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

I finally got around to watching the clone wars so here are some Ahsoka and Anakin headcanons that wont leave my brain

They both steal each other's stuff and complain when they catch the other one doing it 

As Anakin’s hair grows longer he finds himself looking for hair wraps or something to push it back 

And he stumbles on Ahsoka's stash he borrows them mostly when she’s off on a mission so she won’t complain 

But she suspects him of doing so cause they’re never in the correct spot he also steals some of her simpler hand wraps when he’s training 

Ahsoka's just as bad tho she’ll steal Anakin’s cloaks and shirts all the time cause for some reason the council failed to give her comfortable clothes  

It all comes to a head when Ahsoka is debriefing the council and Anakin and she stops and goes “Is that my head wrap?” 

The change of topic is so abrupt that no one reacts for a hot second 

And then Anakin goes into full-on defensive mode like “What? No your device must be defective cause this isn’t yours” 

Which Ahsoka calls him out because “Jedi’s don’t lie so just come clean sky guy I know that mine. And are those my kriffing hand wraps?! Take those off you’re gonna mess them up!” 

Anakin is still defending himself and Obi-Wan is stepping in scolding them for using this line for their petty and selfish arguments  

And then Anakin says “Wait snips is that my cloak” “Don’t change the subject just cause you got caught” “No no you can’t talk about getting caught you little hypocrite that’s my cloak!” 

Obi-Wan is still chiming in half-heartedly but he knows better than to stop a full-on argument between those two 

Especially when they’re throwing each other words back at them like “I thought you said I should keep warm” “And I thought you said I need a hair wrap with all this hair” 

The argument only ends cause Windu threatens to hang up the com 

After the debriefing ends Anakin calls Ahsoka back and the argument starts right back up again 

Ahsoka always gets ready with her music playing 

And Anakin in true big brother fashion doesn’t want Ahsoka to know he likes her music so instead he’ll just turn on their version of shazam and stands by the speaker in what he thinks is a normal fashion 

It always goes something like this “Master what are you doing?” “What do you mean snips I’m not doing anything” “Oh so you’re just standing in my doorway with your device on for no reason” “Yep” “Okay when well have fun”

And in bratty little sister fashion she turns off her music and lights and leaves him in the doorway 

Later on she makes a playlist of all his favorite songs and sends a link to it 

All she hears is a grumbled “thank you” from the other room 

Anakin also plays his music out loud sometimes and it took a small amount of time to realize the songs Ahsoka complains about the most are her favorites 

He adds them to their shared playlist and ignores her when she plays those songs more 

Over time they make a lot of joined playlists

Some to work out and train to, some to hype them up before a mission, some to wind down after a mission, some to play when they have nightmares 

It’s something that they both enjoy more than they probably should 

Obi-Wan jokes that some of those playlists will be the death of him 

Ahsoka runs abnormally hot to the point where she could wear shorts in winter and Anakin runs cold enough to be confused for a corpse  

Obi-Wan Padme and Ahsoka all agree that he needs to get checked out cause no way is it healthy to be that cold 

They're both fine in their rooms where Ahsoka can blast the AC and Anakin can turn the heater up as high as he needs 

But the common room is where the bickering happens such as “Jesus snips I didn’t realize we lived on Hoth” or “I’m so sorry master that every room can feel like Mustafar” 

I also know that they both get nightmares like Earth-shaking soul shattering nightmares 

Some where they get abandoned some when they can’t save each other in time and some where they have to kill each other  

Not a lot of words need to be said when Ahsoka wakes Anakin out of a dead sleep with tears in her eyes or when Ahsoka wakes up cause Anakin is checking in on her for the third time that night 

They both just grab as many pillows and blankets as they can carry so they can make the world's best pillow fort 

Obi-Wan has grown accustomed to finding them cuddled up on the floor while the credits of a shitty old movie roll in the background  

When they get older I feel like they unlock the childhood nickname status 

Don't get me wrong snips and sky guy are their normal nicknames and will never go away but those are mostly used when they’re out in public or on the battlefield 

When they’re around people they trust like Obi-Wan and Padme you’ll hear questions like “You good Ani?” or “Be safe Soka”

[goaliesarethebest]

They absolutely need to put him on the bench regardless of if he's playing or not

Judging by what I can tell from the live blog, the Leafs are an absolute mess without Mitch, which I already knew was the case but I just wish everyone else outside of Tumblr felt the same way.

[kesoyotes]

my friend clipped this celly and sent it to me on twitter and I haven't stopped thinking about Tolvy's little spin to Bjorky since

[yuseirra]

minayuka/shuyuka comic

i noticed I might have been spamming the tag but I'm not sorry! I will provide '-')9

I care a whole lot about canon..I often go over the official materials and stuff to see if I'm portraying things right, I'm a little paranoid on that aspect actually and regarding these two, I'm sure it's safe to say at least this much is canon. MC goes out his way to protect yukari a lot and quite eagerly and she really loves him and wants to do the same. They share a really wholesome relationship!

[cheddertm]

ok i get that Chip gets a tattoo to represent his friends and that's already great and makes me wanna explode- JAY N GILLIAN SHOULD GET TATTOOS LIKE THAT TOO SO THEY ALL HAVE MATCHING ONES!1!!!!!

LIKE JAY GETS THE CORAL CROWN WRAPPED IN A BANDANA AND GILLIAN GETS A BLUEJAY WITH A BANDANA ON IT LIKE DO YOU SEE MY VISION AND I JUST THINK THEYRE SO NEAT

[mossymeep]

wip // do y’all think I’ll ever be normal about this man or

[monamipencil]

— angel eyes | l.sm

⋆ summary; though seokmin and you are focused on building a good relationship, you both forget an integral part of it. sex. or, in which you both have sex after being together for one year.

⋆ pairings; seokmin x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, angst (a teeny bit), fluff, established relationship ⋆ w.c; 3.7k+ ⋆ warnings; soonyoung slander, they're both horny and didn't have sex for no reason, seokmin is a loveable idiot, insecurities, oral (m. & f. receiving), unprotected sex (she's on pills), creampie, he's shy and adorable, mentions of food. ⋆ a/n; ty to the anon that came up with this idea. man, i love writing this guy.

Seokmin takes a deep breath for the nth time and rolls down the windows. He sighs, unbuttoning his shirt a bit to rid the hotness in the car. His hand moves to turn up the air cooler, but he stops halfway, eyes falling on your figure. You’re curled up in the passenger seat, pulling his coat tighter around you. 

A soft smile graces his features as he shifts focus to the road again. The events of the night slip away from his mind easily as you replace them. Seokmin has never felt happier than with you. It’s easier to breathe around you, easy to be himself around you, easy to feel loved and love you back. Everything has been so easy, and he feels content with the relationship. 

In fact, Seokmin even planned on going on one knee just 3 months into the relationship. He couldn’t help it. Everything flew naturally with you. And just like that, certain things didn’t even occur to him. Too focused on being in love, you both completely forgot about an integral part of a relationship. Sex.

The hard thing (no pun intended) is this had only been brought out to the limelight when one of his friends, Soonyoung, joked about it, unknowingly after your first anniversary. “Oh? Have you both even done it?” 

Soonyoung did not expect the absolute silence that followed, which affirmed his statement. The air felt too thick for him, and he could hear his heart thrumming in his ear. The awkwardness quickly dissolved when Mingyu made a mess, and everyone jumped to bully him. Since then, it lingered in his mind like a ghost, and his cheeks burnt up coyly.

He wasn’t embarrassed, per se, but shy. He was never embarrassed about the relationship at any point. Always proud that you both were taking things slow and smooth, earning comments of marriage from others frequently. 

And it's not like Seokmin shied away from the topic of sex either. He is a gentleman, not an idiot. And a bit shy. 

Hence, exactly why he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes the rest of the night. Soonyoungs joke shed a different light on you, and he found himself catching the details he usually missed.  Your cleavage that was slightly exposed when you bent forward, the curve of your ass when he placed his hand on your waist, the softness of your hips, and your soft, pretty lips, he found himself thinking about for the rest of the night. 

But you were seemingly unaffected by any of it. You were your usual self, and when he shied away from your eyes, you simply pinched his cheeks and kissed the corner of his lips to silently say, “it’s ok.” 

The kiss lingers on his skin warmly. He lifts his hand to caress your cheeks and smiles when you lean into his touch. But that smile drops when the strap of your dress falls, exposing your cleavage. With your curled-up position facing him, he can see it clearly.

Seokmin shifts his gaze back to the road, sporting a blush and a raging boner.

From then on, he had tried to initiate sex more often. Keyword; tried. 

He stopped by a convenience store to buy some condoms but ended up completely off the track and bought some of his childhood snacks.

“Honey, I’m home!” He announces, making his way to you with a big smile. You greet him back, “Hi baby,”

“You won’t believe what I found!” He exclaims, showing off the goods he bought, and you tilt your head, squinting at the plastic bags of snacks. “My childhood snacks! I actually went to buy-” Oh, right. He went to buy condoms. 

“Mhm, what did you want to buy?” you ask, fully focusing on him with a small smile. 

“I—well, uh.. I forgot.” He stutters under your gaze, and you chuckle, finding him adorable. Pressing a kiss to his lips, you take some of the snacks from his. “Come on, let’s store them.” 

“Huh? Ye—yeah.” 

...

At least he’s trying. 

He even googles up stuff! Countless articles pop up, and Seokmin is surprised to find that multiple people actually resonated with his problem. But it also worries him, and his heart sinks reading said articles — In a sexless relationship? Instant red flag! — Sexual incompatibility and its effects on long-term relationships — 6 ways to find out that your partner hates yo-

He slams the laptop shut and buried his face in his hands. Trying to ignore the lump in his throat, he rubs his face over and over again. Tears prick his waterline, and he can’t bite back the sob that rakes from his chest. What if you do hate him? 

The insecurity gnaws at his heart, and he feels disgusted with himself. Seokmin hugs the pillow for some comfort and falls asleep within minutes. 

God damn Soonyoung.

You groan out loudly, removing your hands from between your thighs and catching your breath. Ever since he brought it up, you found yourself like this often. Naked, horny, and sopping wet. You sigh heavily and turn around your bed, caressing his side of the bed. 

Your boyfriend is fucking hot. He’s the most gorgeous man you know. Call it an exaggeration, but it is true. He’s a piece of art. And you? Well, you’re a woman. 

A woman who has fallen head over heels for him. 

Getting to know him through the first months of your relationship, you came to know about his gentle nature, and as others say, he’s god-sent, something you can’t deny. He’s got it all. Personality, looks, a rare kind of optimism, and certainly a good dick. (yes. You were going through an album he shared with you, consisting of old pictures from college and school, and interestingly enough, there was a mirror selfie of his naked self, sporting a boner.) 

And being honest, Seokmin is quite naïve at times, and any horny feelings were unintentionally locked up in favor of taking things slow. You didn’t want to mess up things, and you see a future with him, leading to subconsciously pushing away intimate moments. 

That is until Soonyoung opened the floodgates.

You groan again. Just because Soonyoungs words elicited a positive response from you doesn’t mean the same for Seokmin. He couldn’t even look at you after that, and with much of your efforts, you brought the relationship back to normal. But things are going south again, with him seemingly avoiding you. It is hard to do so when you are actively living with someone, but he is pent-up at work lately. 

With another curse, you sit up, determined to set things straight, Not by talking, but by some other means. 

He’s always stressed and tense from work, and what better stress-buster there is than sex? Checking the time, you smirk. There’s more than enough time to make extra preparations as well.

...

You’re lying on the bed again with a giddy feeling as you anxiously wait for your boyfriend to return him. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to check yourself in the mirror again. You bathed, sprayed his favorite perfume, and applied a bit of gloss, wanting to keep it natural. You’re wearing sexy white lingerie, not too provocative and not too boring, it was perfect. And since you didn’t want to give your boyfriend a heart attack, you wore one of his t-shirts, covering the lingerie. 

The sound of the front door opening has you sitting up in a frantic and your heart races when you hear his usual “Honey, I’m home!” you take deep breaths to ease your nerves and go outside to greet him. His back is turned to you as he removes his shoes and places them on the rack at the entrance. You hug his back, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his upper back. 

“Missed you,” you pout. You missed him so fucking much. Seokmin was taking mental escapes, and it really hurt to not see his usual happy-go-lucky self. 

He freezes under your touch, and you sigh. He turns in your embrace and smiles sweetly at you, murmuring a soft, “missed you too.” Before slotting his lips on yours. Your hands come up to hold his face and deepen the kiss. He hums against your lips, one of his hands move to your waist and the other to your face. 

He breaks the kiss, but not before another sweet peck. But you pull him in for another by grabbing his tie. He gasps when you bite his lip, giving you the perfect chance to slip in your tongue. He pulls you flush against him, fingers digging into your waist. You caress his hair and wrap your arms around his shoulder. The feeling of his tongue on yours is ecstatic, and you drown yourself in his scent.

You walk backward, slowly leading him to the bedroom. You gasp when he lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist, holding onto him. He gasps for breath and walks into the bedroom. Seokmin knows where this is leading, but he hasn’t processed any of what is happening now. 

He’s drunk on your scent, and the way you look at him makes him oblige to you, like a man lured by a siren. You don’t cease your kisses but reduce them to pecks and slowly move from his lips to his neck. He grunts lowly, feeling you sucking and nibbling on his sensitive skin. 

He sets you down on the bed, quickly moving to undo his tie, but you pull him down to the bed and straddle his hips. You bite back a moan, feeling his hard cock graze your thigh and continue your attack on his neck. He tilts his neck, giving you space, and rests his hands on your bare thighs, slowly moving them under the tee to your—oh.

The reality of what is happening dawns upon him as his fingers graze the lazy material of your panties. Seokmin gently pulls you away, gripping your shoulders as he looks at you with a bewildered look. 

“Shit. Do—do you not want this?” he watches your face morph through multiple emotions, and he notices the tears forming. 

“Wait, no. No! that’s not—wait. Please?” You nod, waiting for him. 

But Seokmin cannot form a word for the life of him, and he panics, uttering continuous ‘I’s and ‘uhm’s. He gives up, sighing and catching your eyes on him. Fuck. His cock twitches in his pants, and he can’t help the nasty thoughts that form in his mind. 

“Just,” he breathes in, closing his eyes before finding yours again. “Fuck me, please.”

You close the gap between you two, kissing his lips tenderly. Gently pushing him back, you make him lay on the mattress without breaking the kiss. You sigh against his lips, resting your forehead on his and silently searching for reassurance in his eyes. That reassurance comes with him pushing your hips down to his. 

You sit up, smiling prettily at him before removing his t-shirt. His eyes widen, and his mouth falls agape as he sits up to have a better look. You wore this for him? He rests his hand on your thighs, fixating his eyes on your breasts. You giggle, “you like it?” he nods wordlessly before switching positions. 

Seokmin looks down at your figure, “So pretty.” He whispers before kissing your neck, licking the skin, and nibbling on it. He kisses further and further down till he reaches the valley of your breasts. He looks up at you, catching your eager eyes and shit. The newfound confidence fades away, and his cheeks burn up. 

To add to his shyness, you lift yourself up, undoing the bra and flinging it into some corner. You guide his hands to your breasts, and your nipples harden immediately under his touch. You moan, pushing your chest out, encouraging him to do whatever he fucking wants. 

But you did not expect him to right away wrap his lips on your pebbled nipples as his hand toys with the other. You whimper and moan, turning putty in his hands. His tongue circles around your nipple before he sucks on it. Your panty sticks to your core like a second skin, and you feel more arousal drip through the material. 

He switches to the other one, sucking so diligently on it. Before he could go further below, you stop him. “Wait. I want to see you too.” You whisper breathlessly. 

You help him undress and bite your lips, soaking in his figure. Watching as he slips off his pants, you feel yourself grow hotter. Seokmin looks like what you could only describe as a walking wet dream. Your eyes dart all over his figure. Wide shoulders and strong biceps complemented by a firm chest and a toned abdomen. And, thick thighs complementing his—oh, god. 

Your eyes widen, and your mouth waters as you see the outline of his cock. He’s thick and big. Enough to pleasure you and not enough to hurt. So, in total, it’s perfect. You just want him to bruise your insides and-

Seokmin holds your chin, gently tilting your head up to make you look at him. You look at him through your eyelashes and pout lightly at him while arching your back and closing your arms to push your breasts together.

His cock twitches, leaking pearls of precum that stained his boxers. His chest fills with confidence at the way you are reacting to him. Even he cannot comprehend what he's doing. Your effect on him is that powerful. 

He takes you by surprise and kneels on the floor. It's his turn to look at you through his lashes, big brown eyes staring at you with need. You lick your lips, watching him as he pulls you to the edge and spreads your legs. He kisses your heat through the lacy material and licks at the patch formed by your arousal. His nose presses against your clit, and you gasp, feeling all the bones in your body weaken as he has his way with you. 

Pulling away, he slides his fingers under the hem of your panties and peels it off you, leaving you bare. It joins the pile of clothes, and he dives right in, licking and kissing your folds. “Fuck!” you arch your back and push your cunt onto his face. His nose directly presses against your clit, and you moan as he basically fucking makes out with your cunt. 

You close your legs around his head and tangle your fingers with his locks, pushing him further. He sucks on the little bundle of nerves, then circles his tongue around it with occasional kitten licks. You tug at his hair harshly, and your moans fill the room along with wet sounds as he eats you out. Feeling the orgasm inching closer, you force his mouth off you. 

“Need you,” you whimper, grabbing his face and kissing him. He moans into your mouth as you roughly push your tongue past his lips, tasting yourself on him. His cock twitches with need when you rake your nails down his nape and shoulders. Seokmin grows hotter, thinking about your hands pumping his cock as you suck on his tip. 

You pull away to get down on your knees and hook your finger under the hem of his boxers as he stands up. You pull it down, gawking at his hard, twitching cock, and take him in your hands. His cock rests heavy in your hands, and you couldn’t care less about the cold floor biting your knees. You give the tip an experimental lick, tasting his precum while batting your eyelashes up at him. 

You grin, satisfied when he throws his head back, groaning at a small lick. Without warning, you take half of his length in your mouth, eyes rolling back at the feeling of it resting heavily on your tongue. He tangles his fingers in your hair, looking down at you while he moans a string of curses. Wrapping your fingers around his base, you pump his length and swirl your tongue around his tip. 

You bounce your head up and down his cock, getting used to his girth. You pull away momentarily, and a string of saliva connects your lips to his tip. Licking your lips, you maintain eye contact with him and wrap your lips around his length once again. But this time, you take his full length in your mouth, gagging and enjoying how he fills you up. You hold his thighs for support, sliding his cock out fully before taking him again. 

You do this a couple of times and feel him twitching in your mouth. Seokmin pulls your mouth off his cock, biting his lips in vain to prevent moaning at the erotic sight before him. You know how to put that mouth to use. A few more seconds and he would’ve cummed down your throat. 

With a huff, he pulls you up and backs you to the bed. You lay on the soft sheet, letting him take control. You gasp when he teases his tip on your folds, coating it in your arousal, and he moans, feeling your warmth and wetness. His tip nears your entrance, stretching past your folds, and then—

“Shit. Condoms,” he curses, eyes snapping towards yours in worry. You chuckle, finding your dumbfounded boyfriend adorable. “I’m on pills. Don’t worry.”  

His eyebrows crease, “Since when?”

“Since that dinner. Couldn’t stop thinking about you and your cock.” 

A light blush settles on his cheek, and he smiles at you, shaking his head. He pushes his hair back to calm himself down, and you sigh, finding him hot. There he sits on his knees, between your legs, and a coat of sweat glistens on his skin. He looks ethereal and hot. Yeah, you’d let him rearrange your insides. 

He chuckles, finding your lusty eyes ogling him. “You’re making me shy!” 

And you hook your arms under your knees, pulling your legs to your chest. You bite your lips with a sultry look on your face, and he groans, watching your pussy glisten under the light. He readjusts himself, feeling your folds with his tip again. 

You gasp and moan as his length fills you up, stretching your walls. You haven’t had sex in over a year, and you’re feeling the effects now. Tears well up, and you close your eyes, attempting to adjust to his length. Seokmin leans down, kissing your tears away, and you open your eyes, finding his chocolate eyes staring at you with love and lust.

“Shit. Is it too much? I can pull out, baby.” He softly says, voice laced with concern. You shake your head, whispering a ‘no.’ You lift your head up, slotting your lips against his.

You hook your hands around his nape, deepening the kiss. He holds your waist as you wrap your legs around his hips, holding still till you adjust. Your gummy walls grip his length tightly, making his head spin. After a few moments, you pull away from the kiss, taking a deep breath and nodding at him. 

Seokmin pulls out slowly, leaving only his tip in before slowly sinking back. You both moan in unison when he fills up again. He does this a few times before settling into a comfortable and pleasurable pace. You moan with each snap of his hips towards yours, eyes rolling back in pleasure. His cock kisses your walls in all the right places.

His moans mix with yours in the bedroom, along with the sounds of your hips meeting. Your cunt squeezes his cock, and the wetness allows him to easily slide his cock in and out of you. The feeling of your arousal coating his cock is sinful, and your naked skin on his makes warmth pool in his chest. 

He catches your lips in a sensual kiss, slowing down his pace. His tongue slides against yours easily, wandering your mouth. Your arousal drips down, sticking to his balls with each thrust. You bite his lower lip, making him whine into your mouth, and fasten his pace a bit. You slide your hand between your bodies to stimulate your clit, but he beats you to it.

Long, slender fingers rub at your clit, drawing in your orgasm. You buck your hips up, desperately meeting his cock and fingers. Seokmin moans when you clench his cock, speeding up his climax. You whine, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach, and he feels his cock twitch as well. His pace stutters, turning erratic as he kisses you messily. 

With a moan of his name, you cum on his cock and hold onto him for dear life. He follows suit, hips stuttering to a halt as ribbons of cum paint your walls. He rests his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath. You sigh in bliss, his warm cum filling you up to the brim. 

He pulls out, falling to your side and instantly pulling you into a cuddle. His cum oozes out, and it should feel dirty, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels like home, warm and cozy, with his cum filling up your cunt. 

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear, and you giggle, feeling his breath tickle you. You can’t see him, but you feel his smile. “I love you too, baby.” And you giggle again when he kisses your neck, accidentally tickling you again.

His strong hands wrap around you comfortingly. And a serene silence envelops you both. Only for a while, though, “should I order pizzas?” 

You heartily laugh, slapping his chest lightly, and peck his cheeks. He adorably grins at you, pulling you closer. You rest your head on his chest, hugging him with a lazy smile. 

“Was that ok?” he voices out.

“Hmm, the pizza?” 

His chest reverberates as he chuckles, “No—I mean yes. That’s also there but…” 

“Was the … sex good?” he finishes, and you look up, meeting his curious eyes tinged with insecurity. But you smile brightly at him, nodding, “The best I’ve ever had.” His eyes widen before he squints at you playfully. 

“Don’t lie, it was that good?”

“Yep. 10/10. Best cock in the world.”

You both laugh, and he adds, “your...” He coughs, “uhhh...” He gives up, gesturing towards your heat and nodding in acknowledgment. Your body shakes with laughter, and he hides his face shyly. You remove his hands and kiss his face, hugging him closer. Silence settles again, and you feel content in his arms before he speaks again. 

“Also, pizza ok?” 

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @pan-de-seungcheol

(send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

[radiance1]

Another link to this post. Meet the parents style.

So, Danny and Jason have been fake dating for a while now, and ended up marrying each other solely for tax benefits. Also, they got cool ass fucking friendship rings that they just couldn't not wear everywhere and being married is convenient so...

Anywho, so Jason has met Danny's parents but Danny hasn't met Jason's parents. Danny knows that he has some ties with the vigilantee scene due to being a Crime Lord-he still doesn't know what to think of his parents connecting the dots immediately when they only met him once while it took him more than that while living with the guy.

He thinks Jason may have been an ex-vigilantee at some point before turning to crime.

Then Danny gets blinded by rich people aura when he finds out that his bestfriend is the long thought dead child of Bruce Wayne. Frankly, he's insulted.

You mean to tell him that his could've been buying ice cream from that high class place all this time!? He shook (literally he grabbed and shook him) that point into Jason, he doesn't care that Jason never told him he was rich but he could've at least bought some high class ice cream once in a while.

Jason who was busy solidifying his power as a crime lord, avoiding his family and making sure not to leak his identity at all: I'm a literal crime lord, and the only thing you care about is me not buying you ice cream?

Danny: YES!!!!

Jason: Dork.

Right anyways, so Jason takes Danny along to meet Bruce and his fam but did say as soon as he started being uncomfortable they're leaving. The batfam is a bit blindsided by Danny, because they thought Jason was bringing his partner but its good to also get a feel for Danny's personality.

Danny and Jason did what's normal for them when Danny starts getting comfortable around the manor full of things that cost waaay more than his rent. Like half-heartedly insulting each other, being snarky, leaning on each other and other such things.

The batfam start thinking that there's more there than they know of. So they start watching a bit closer and ask a few round about questions that fly over Danny and Jason's heads. They just forget they're married often, unless it's regarding taxes.

All of this sends the wrong message when they walk into the same room and, being nosy, one of the batfam comes up to the door and uh. They hear the bed moving quite a lot.

So.

Meanwhile, Jason is trying to wrestle with Danny because this man does not pick a lane. He'll either be the human octopus (who is cold as hell) Jason has ever seen, he'll try to kick him off the bed in his sleep as if Jason personally offended him in some way, or he'll sleep in some wacky position that interrupts Jason's sleep. The last one is tied to the other two, however.

So, Jason has to frequently wrestle this man into a proper position where they both manage to get some sleep and it wouldn't have been so bad if Danny wasn't a goddamn sleep fighter. He would know, he had to nurse a bruised jaw for a few weeks.

Why do they sleep together? Listen, when you're in an apartment with not a lot of money, you gotta cut costs where you can alright?

[woso-dreamzzz]

Miracle II

Aitana Bonmatí x Baby!Reader

Summary: Aitana babyproofs

The first night you are with her...

Well, the first night you are with her as a Bonmatí, is a stressful one.

You cry.

And then you stop.

Then you cry again when she sets you down for bed.

It's still early by Atiana's standards but it's gone seven and all the baby books say it's perfect bedtime for little babies.

But you just don't seem to want to settle and Aitana can't think of what she's done wrong. She's moved you into your own room now with little glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling to occupy you. You're newly washed and warm in your fluffy onesie and you're holding the little pegasus plushie Aitana bought you when you were born.

She's followed the books to a tee and yet you still cried.

You cried and cried and whined for your Ta-Ta until Aitana picked you up and you settled again.

She has no choice but to drag your crib straight back into her room because you refuse to settle anywhere else.

But, apart from that small hiccup, you are a golden baby.

You are soft and sweet and make little happy gurgling sounds whenever you see your Mama Ta-Ta.

It all goes so well and Aitana doesn't know what she was worrying about until you learn how to walk. She was impressed at first, you were on the younger end when you learnt and she's very impressed when you just got up one day from where you're playing on your mat to walk over to the kitchen where Aitana is making dinner.

You raise your arms for her and she instantly picks you up.

All you wanted was your Mama Ta-Ta.

The issue comes when Aitana realises just how many sharp corners are in her house and just how quickly you have transitioned from wobbly steps to proper walking.

"Sorry, Tana," Marta says when Aitana asks about babyproofing during a break in practice. She's talking to her Aitana but her eyes are focused on where her Conejita and Caro are making flower crowns together. "I never had to do that for Conejita. She didn't walk until quite late and she never really strayed far."

Aitana can believe that. Even now Conejita is a careful child. She doesn't run and doesn't play rough. She just chooses a space and sits and weaves flowers together.

So, Aitana turns to Mapi and Ingrid.

They're sitting a bit further away as little Skatt is letting a beetle climb all over her fingers.

Ingrid has a similar response.

"Skatt never moved very fast," Ingrid says," It was easy to occupy her."

"I think you can order these foam things that clip onto corners," Mapi offers, hooking her hand around the inside of Skatt's collar to pull her closer when she tries to wander after where the beetle has flown off to," You could try those."

And Aitana does. She orders them as soon as she gets home while occupying you with a sensory programme about space.

You like that kind of thing, Aitana has learnt and your room (which you now more frequently sleep in) is full of stars and planets and the mobile that hangs above your crib is a replica of the solar system and sings a silly song about how to name each planet.

Her corner guards come within the hour after Aitana pays an extortionate price for sameday delivery. The ring of the doorbell makes you turn your head but your interest is captured once again by the spinning stars and comets so Aitana feels safe babyproofing the apartment while you watch your video.

She's just clipping on the last of the guards when there's a tug on her shorts. She's not surprised to see you standing there. Your video finished a few minutes ago and the soft pad of your socked feet were ones Aitana was used to now.

"Hola, estrella," She coos at you.

You babble nonsense for a while before lifting up your arms. "Ta-Ta."

"Alright," Aitana says," Uppies, it is." She lifts you up onto her hip and you take the time to poke at the new corner guards.

Your little brows furrow and Aitana can't help but think about how much you look like her when you do that.

"It's to protect your head," She explains to you," So you can go running around and not hurt yourself."

You poke it again in confusion, legs kicking out before you huff and rest your head against Aitana's chest.

"Tar," You whine and Aitana knows that word in your language too.

She laughs. "Alright, we can watch the dancing stars again."

You must know she's agreed because you burst into ecstatic giggles as she walks you back to the sofa.

Both Marta and Ingrid had warned her about the mindless, boring videos she would now have to watch as your mother but Aitana finds that she doesn't quite mind.

She'll sit through mindless kid's shows forever if it means keeping you in her arms.

But, it seems that you don't want to be in her arms right now as you spot your stuffed pegasus lying by the corner from earlier.

Aitana lets you go, watching as you pad very carefully over to your toy. She sucks in a breath as you approach the corner. You stop just in front of it, staring.

You wrap your little hand around the corner and duck down with your other to grab your plushie. You pull yourself back up, patting the corner happily before wandering back to Aitana.

You show her your toy.

"Ta-Ta, peg-sus."

She laughs. "That's right. Your pegasus. There's a constellation called pegasus. Is that why you like it so much?"

You giggle and gnaw on a wing.

She hefts you up onto her lap again and you rest your ear against her chest.

"Tar," You point at the tv.

"Alright, let me put on your stars."

[tora-ken]

. 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒

.pairings gojo satoru x gn!reader

.genre nonsorcerer!au, angst, unhealthy relationship

.ongoing | complete

.tw cursing, gojo clearly needs help, mentions of death, alcohol

.wc 4.3k

SUMMARY — In the July heat, Satoru is a glass of ice cold water, there to refresh you. In the December chill, he’s a bittersweet memory that tugs at your heartstrings.

reblogs are appreciated!

It was a warm summer's night meeting Gojo Satoru, yet it felt like the winter blazed upon your heart as he glared at you with his piercing eyes, intimidated by his stare. The heat of July 13th could not melt the ice protecting the shackles of Gojo Satoru’s heart and it was obvious from your first encounter.

On the contrary, you came into Satoru’s life like a breath of fresh air you didn't know you needed. His shoulders seemed to relax from their tensed state, and his teeth would no longer grit as he registered your existence beside him. But it could not satiate the clenching feeling in his heart when he stared down at the headstone in front of him.

–

“I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

It was cliché, your encounter. The classic coffee incident, who knew that the two most unpredictable people to live in Japan would have the most foreseeable romance of all time.

"It’s alright, I wasn't paying attention."

You paid him back for his shirt and the jelly stick in his hands as an apology, to which he seemed to accept gleefully. Cute. You thought.

A month was how long it took for him to kiss you on your seventh date. Rather than the stories telling you the butterflies in your stomach finally fluttering, or the fires set alight in your heart, there was peace, and tranquility within the depths of your stomach, the swirling feeling no longer in movement.

Pulling away from him, heavy breaths, and rosy cheeks you smile, laughing as he cups your face and pulls you into his embrace once again.

"You're so cute, Y/N."

Nine months, and he asks you to move in with him.

"Satoru, aren't we going a bit fast?"

"I'm sorry, it's just, you make me so happy."

That seemed to be enough reason for you to pack all of your bags, and move into his apartment in upstate Tokyo.

–

You grew uncomfortable in his presence the first night you moved in. He felt like a new person. The swirl within your stomach intensifying each second, and you felt nauseous. Who was this man you met all those months back in July?

"Toru, I’m sorry, it's just slippers I didn't know-"

"Well they're not yours. Fuck off and get your own."

Being his partner, you assumed that he bought those for you as some sort of housewarming gift, to get comfortable in the place on your first night, whilst it was actually the down side of your relationship.

He had a partner a few years ago, that he seemed to not be completely over, and you had fit their exact description appearance wise. But you would never be them, hell you didn't even know him back then. And it's not like you were ever going to find this out from him, it was the little things.

It grew from scolding to comparison, "Why can't you be like Yuki?" "Yuki never did this when we were together" "That’s not how Yuki does it." and you grew tired of it.

Your heart burned every second as he left the house more frequently, coming back later than scheduled, with tears stained into his shirt, and red tainted into his sclera. Living with him grew to be a chore, and the couch became more comfortable than the confines of his arms where he would whisper a name that wasn't yours.

You acknowledged that you were hurting yourself in this ill-fated relationship, but enjoyed the validation he had served you so seldom. The peppering of his kisses in the rise of the sun, and the moments where you would lock eyes as you brushed your teeth together at night, and interlocking hands as you went grocery shopping.

Pulling you back by the waist became a habit, and Satoru’s limbs felt empty without a presence that was familiar to Yuki’s, or rather a face. He was unaware of the agony he had afflicted upon you before entering the relationship with his toxic baggage.

As selfish as he was, your presence slowly pieced into his schedule like it was always meant to be there, and a day without it felt like a void that could only be indulged with the stimulating comfort of alcohol and cigarettes. subsequently, it brought out an unattractive aspect of his personality, torturing you emotionally according to his own pleasures or until he was tired and expected you to put him back to bed.

–

Eighteen months was how long it took for you to finally pack your things and leave. You were fed up with waiting for him to realise he had been hurting you, fed up with waiting for his apologies, or the deserved explanations as to why he kept you around like a toy.

Upon meeting his friends, you grew the closest to Nanami, who finally had the guts to explain to you that Satoru's previous partner, Yuki, had died in a car accident on their four year anniversary.

–

"You know, I think you were his next big thing." Taking a sip from his glass, Nanami stares at the light he turned on from the torch on his phone.

"...big thing?"

"You’re the first serious relationship he's had since...I’d rather not."

"Then why would you bring it up?" You couldn't understand his logic, if he never wanted to speak about it in the first place why would he leave you hanging like that?

"It’s just, I think it's best to hear it from Gojo himself."

"He’s barely home, why do you think I'm here right now?" Sighing languidly, you slouch in your seat staring up at the white ceiling.

"Fine. But don't tell him I told you, I’m only saying this because you deserve to know." He exhales deeply, as if to prepare for a big speech. "About four years ago, Gojo’s last partner died in an accident on their anniversary, after that he didn't date or do anything for that matter, for a long time. Until he met you. I think you make him happy, we haven't seen him like this in a while."

A twisting sensation grew its way up your stomach to your chest, as pieces connect, you finally understood why he was so flagrant in his distaste towards you when you committed a sin as grave as wearing a pair of slippers that were never yours.

"I don't think it's me that makes him happy."

"Do you want me to be honest?" He pushes on, staring at the drink before him.

"...Yeah."

"You look an awful lot like them."

And the twisting soon melted into an ache, so familiar and reminiscent of your feelings when you would stare at his eyes with adoration and notice the emptiness in his looking at yours.

You scoffed. You acknowledged that Nanami was trying to sympathise or make you feel better these days, but it took a turn for the worse. Satoru made you feel like a rebound, as if you were just a speck of dust in a dirty room, a second in his time of life to which he was going to waste. One like any other. In the end, he would never love you the way you loved him, because he was still mourning.

His honesty should've stayed a mystery – your curiosity should've never delved past the limit Satoru had set from the day you moved in.

You were a sign screaming for help from the man who held you by his side at night, had waited for someone to swoop in and save him from the clutches you never meant to keep him under.

"I understand." And you left.

–

“I’ll see be home late today, I’m having a couple drinks with Suguru and Shoko.” Satoru presses a chaste kiss on your lips as you make him his morning brew, with extra sugar as he always likes it. He grabs the mug and gives you another kiss. “Thank you, baby.”

He was in an awfully good mood. “Alright, be safe on your way home, just text me when you guys are going home, I can pick you up from the bar.” Your mind races back to the conversation you had with Nanami a few days prior.

Satoru nods, before taking one last gulp of his coffee, washes the dish quickly and grabs whatever else he needed for work that day. “I’ll text you later, love you!”

You smile weakly, and mutter a “You too”. The door slams shut, and you sigh in relief, before your legs give out, recollecting everything that had happened with Nanami, giving yourself time to process everything.

There was a conflict between your mind and your heart, each battling for different paths. Your mind fighting so defensively for a future that doesn’t involve living a life where Satoru doesn't have to leave your heart in shambles every time he looks at you in longing, a sad, grieving, mourning longing. A life without him.

But as torturous your feelings were, your heart kept you within close proximity with Satoru, thinking that one day, some day, you could reach out to him, and finally make him realise he was yours. Not Yuki's, but yours. Your heart fought for a future where that was possible, driving your every move and word for Satoru to lead you to that potential moment.

You were already halfway there, living with him, breathing with him, calling him yours, exchanging "I love you's", albeit they may not be entirely true on his part, but you were halfway there. There was just one more push needed, whether it be from you or him.

And you chose your heart. You chose Satoru. As you always do.

11:44pm

toru <3: bbay come het me pla

you: alright.

Arriving at the bar Satoru laid red, and intoxicated, his head resting on his forearm, muttering mindless words to himself, as Geto waited uninterestedly beside him. "Come on, Y/N's here."

Satoru's ears prick up at the mention of you, and he cheeses, the red deepening on his inebriated cheekbones. "My love, there you hic- are." Arms outstretched towards you, and you take one of them and lay them around your shoulder as you send Suguru an apologetic look.

"Hey, thanks for waiting with him Geto. How much did he drink?" You question, as your boyfriend lolls his head in a circle, and comes to rest beside your neck, his breath fanning against your ear, and the stench of alcohol wafts its way to you.

"A few pints of beer, as you can see. He's never been great at holding his alcohol." Geto rolls his eyes.

"Clearly." You chuckle, "Sorry for taking so long, are you okay? Do you want a ride back to yours?"

"Nah, it's cool, Shoko's waiting in the car for me, thanks though. I'll see you 'round."

"Bye." You wave, and you stare back down at Satoru, whispering little nothings to himself again. "Come on, home time, Toru."

"Heck yeah, Home Time Toru!" He exclaims, before dragging his feet as you struggle to carry his weight to the car.

Driving home, Satoru mumbles the whole car ride, humming along to the music every few minutes or so until you finally pull into the parking spot outside your apartment.

He attaches himself to your waist as you drag him through the entrance of your apartment, and flings himself onto the sofa in your living space.

“You’re so sweet…” His slurs reverberates through a pillow, just loud enough for you to hear. Heartwarming, you feel as his words creep up to your chest and you smile to yourself.

“Have some water, here.” Bringing a cup towards his lips, he puckers up and takes a sip, before sighing deeply.

“Why does it have to be you.” An eerie atmosphere engulfs itself in the four corners of the walls, and he stares at you in anguish, possibly hatred. “I hate that it’s you picking me up when I’m out, making me coffee in the mornings, giving me water when I’m drunk.”

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

And the metaphor drills itself into your brain, pushing past your years of development and all of a sudden, you’re a child again. Dejected by the criticism thrust upon you.

“Why don’t we get you to bed, yeah?”

He nods in accordance, dragging his feet behind him as he struggles to unbutton his shirt and change into his pajamas, with you following suit, your heart crumbling with every step you take.

You help brush his teeth and wash his face, still clearly out of touch with the world of sobriety even after tucking into the sheets and he begins once again.

“I hate your face.” He seethes.

You shift further away from him in the bed, the distance between you two opening as your chest aches into another chasm, and you stare up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you can be.” Because you weren’t Yuki.

–

Satoru wakes up the next day, with a pounding in his temple, and he turns around to see your back facing him. How domestic, he stares at the divot in the bed, created by your form, the months that you've so loyally stayed on that side of the bed, your boundary, never truly passing over to his.

He shuffles slightly to learn towards you and lays his head atop your shoulder, feeling the slow rise and fall of your body as you slept and you shift as you feel a weight against your body.

He doesn't remember.

"Good morning, dear." Mumbling into your shoulder, presses a kiss onto your cheek and pulls you towards him, without the recollection of last night in his memory.

Sadly it wasn't mutual – the events fresh, lingering in your consciousness and the sentiments of agony rush over the spot Satoru kissed. As if he had the power to trigger that pain into you.

"You're up early, it's a Saturday." A faint smile displays on your lips, in a groggy state you lay as Satoru crushes you in his hold.

"Can't I enjoy the view?" His eyes wander over your sleepy condition and his heart clenches at the sight.

He knows it's wrong, what he's doing right now, what he's been doing for the past two years with you. But it's the closest thing he's got to keep the memory living. He knows the memory of them will never fully project itself again, especially not through your vessel.

"I guess so," you begin, "what do you want to do today?" You tap on his thigh as he hums in thought, and he gives you a reminiscent expression of when you first met.

"Why don't we have dinner today? That nice Italian place I took you that one time last year?" He sits up straight, plan already forming in his head, "We can dress up all nice and fancy, I can pretend I'm picking you up like it's first date like we did last time?"

The idea of it brings a smile and you nod in agreement as he smiles and kisses you once again, your lips connecting in synchrony, and the smack of his lips as it departs from yours.

"I just have to help Suguru with the birthday party he's planning for the girls tomorrow, I'll be back before 5:30, and I'll be all yours, yeah?"

"Of course, I'll be here waiting. Don't be late or I'll track you down." He throws his head back and laughs, promising you he'll be punctual.

–

He knocks on Suguru's door in a spritely manner, who answers, in a not so amazing mood, with pink hair clips adorning his locks, glitter ornamenting his cheekbones and lipstick smeared against his lips, clearly not aligned with his lipline.

"Need some help with that?" He points at the 'makeover' Nanako and Mimiko did, stating that he clearly needed it.

They begin filling up party bags, in casual conversation as they take the sweets and trinkets and carefully place them in the princess-themed plastic bags that said "Thank you for coming to my birthday!".

"You're in a good mood today." Suguru interrupts, and Satoru pauses as he sends a strange expression. "It's a good thing, I didn't even think you would come help today, I had Shoko on speed dial."

"Why wouldn't I come help for the girls' birthday?" With a quizzical expression, Satoru picks up another toy to place inside the goodie bag and Suguru answers.

"It's the five year anniversary today, last year you even got in a huge fight with Y/N. You seem to be doing a lot better, I'm happy you have them in your life."

He stops what he was doing, and regret rushes in. He was just thinking about Yuki, yet he lets it slips his mind that today was the day he lost them. All because he was too busy thinking about a day with you.

Satoru thinks it's cheating, betrayal on Yuki's behalf, and a crestfallen countenance appears over his face, lips downturned, eyes watering and clear. He blames it all on you, before standing up and apologising to Suguru, who's just realised that his best friend wasn't doing better at all, and leaves his house.

A flower shop, one so familiar and nostalgic. So, he steps in and recklessly buys a bouquet.

"Satoru, buying flowers for Y/N? They told me you were taking them out for dinner. I was beginning to think you were neglecting them." Shoko pops up behind him, and it worsens his day.

You're mentioned again, dampening his mood, but he feigns a smile and nods, "Yeah, thought it'd be nice to go on a date."

"Well, I'm glad. You look a lot better."

It isn't without any extra exchanges before Satoru leaves the establishment with a heavy heart and a location to be. It's cheating, he thinks, to be so focused on someone else, when his true love is waiting in an intangible realm. How could he move on and be so happy without Yuki?

And he isn't.

He appears at their gravestone, flowers in hand.

"Hey." Crouching, he settles into the grass, wiping around their name, and photo so he can clearly see it.

It's obvious their ghost haunts him, that they've laid their territory in his memory and will forever remain. There is no waking day without Yuki, and no dreaming night with them to cease. A permanent embedding of their life exists through Satoru and him alone.

There's a guilt hanging in the air as he longingly stares at their photo, realising that time will never move for them but could only continue for him. Oh, how he wished it would end.

"I'm sorry for not remembering, don't be mad at me." He takes a deep breath and a long pause. "I don't come here as much as I used to. I've been dreading it." He speaks to nothing.

"Coming here just makes me remember you're not around." The air around him responds. "I wish it was me. Maybe you could've moved on, and been in a happy relationship." He thinks of you.

"Just, let me sit here with you before I go."

–

You wait patiently, it's 5:30, and Satoru hasn't returned yet. The outfit he prepared for himself earlier in the day laid neatly and ironed on the bed, yet with no body to wear them. No Satoru.

Tapping your foot, you check your phone to see if he's responded. Only a text message from Shoko, saying she saw him at the flower shop, buying chrysanthemums. You hated chrysanthemums. But you digress, flowers are flowers, and he had you in mind.

It's 6pm, and you've found solace on the sofa, scrolling on your phone, waiting for his arrival. No Satoru.

You refrain from messaging any of his friends, so as not to raise suspicion, and you wait in torment.

Three hours pass, and no sign of Satoru, and you've already changed back into your home clothes and cosy up to the pillow as the TV plays before you. A mindless romance drama, one so corny and unrealistic that you roll your eyes and change the channel.

The door creaks open, and an absentminded, empty shell of a man you call your boyfriend walks through, with no flowers in hand. You stare as he walks straight past you, as if he never made plans in the first place.

All your hopes and dreams dissipate as he changes into his home clothes, hanging up the fancy little outfit he had prepared earlier and placing it back in the wardrobe – and your heart shatters once more. Yet you don't press him about it.

–

Taking all of your belongings and traces of your existence from his apartment, tears blinded your vision and you choked back a sob as everything had finally pieced itself together like a puzzle.

He didn't deserve this suffering, it was an unfortunate accident, one that had brought misery into his life. However, you didn't deserve this suffering either. The pain of sleeping beside a man who saw someone else in your eyes, the person he thought of as he kissed your face.

Being in love with Satoru for a year and a half had taught you many things. It taught you not to wait for someone who was already waiting for another, that you should realise you could not love someone else when you barely loved yourself.

"What are you doing?" Startled, you turn around to see the familiar face.

"Leaving." it was silent for a few moments.

"Why?"

"Because you don't love me." How immature, thought Satoru, you sounded like a child, who craved for someone's attention every time it lacked for a second.

"Who said that?"

"It doesn't need to be said, I can see it. You think I can't hear you cry at night as you call out for someone who is long gone, or how you hold me like I’m some kind of toy, there to relieve your stress? You look at me like you're waiting for a person to come through the door and kick me out. I don't want that, I’d rather leave myself."

How did you know? Was he too obvious? But you couldn't leave, no, who was he going to come home to if not you, let alone Yuki, how was he going to feel loved if there was no one there to love him in the first place?

"But you can't leave me!" He walks closer, reaching out to you for the first time in months, finally showing you an inkling of what he truly felt. Sober.

“Why? So I can continue living in their shoes? Filling the empty space they left behind?” You retort, tears brimming your eyes with a wavering voice. “It’s not fair, Toru.”

“No- it’s not like that-“ he takes a step forward.

“Yeah, then what is it like?” There’s a pregnant pause, and he shuts his mouth. “I thought so.”

“Just hear me out, please?” He begs, eyes glimmering under the yellowed light of his living room. And you nod. “I admit, when I first saw you, it reminded me of them, but the longer we were together, that association disappeared. I don’t even think about them anymore!”

“Oh, that’s just bullshit, Satoru. You don’t think I can hear you every night? Crying for them, wishing they could come back into your arms?” Sobs simply spill at this point, and there’s no control over your emotions anymore. “What does that leave me with, huh? A boyfriend who doesn’t love me, but just the appearance I symbolise? You think you’re so slick, but I know it all, the look you give me, searching for someone else in my eyes, the things you buy me, knowing they’re all for them. I’m not just some vessel for you to dump your feelings on. I’m a fucking person, your partner at that!”

“I’m just, having a hard time, I love them so much.”

He looks down, ashamed to look into your eyes, to acknowledge the pain he’s forced you through. “And I completely understand that Gojo,” calling him by his last name had never felt so nerve wracking, “you never deserved any of this. But I’m not where your grief should be placed, especially when I have no idea that this ever happened. Get some fucking therapy.”

Something inside of him snaps, and he loses control of his emotions, the colour red seeping through his line of vision, a cloud of it embossing around your figure before him.

“Me? Get therapy? You’re the fucking clingy one always wondering where I am, asking when I’m coming home. You always want to fucking talk to me, hug me and spend time with me when you fucking know I value my space.” He almost yells back.

“God, I know you want your space, I give you your fucking space that’s why you’re never around. I try to respect your boundaries so fucking much and you give me nothing back. Why are you even with me if you know so clearly that you haven’t moved on!”

“I don’t know.”

The silence returns. Alongside a gut wrenching realisation that the relationship had been one sided. It’s possible that you were catastrophising it, but your world comes crashing down, and everything you’ve ever known about love, about Satoru, dissipates the longer you stare at him. And his confidence falters.

“Alright. I’ll come back in a few days to collect anything I’ve left behind.” Your voice comes out in a shallow whisper, but loud enough for Satoru to decipher.

And he nods, again. “Okay.”

"You should give yourself time to heal, Satoru. Real time."

Deep down, you both know it's impossible.

Your footsteps recede, and slowly the volume of your shoes fade away the further you get from him, and all Satoru sees before him is the pair of slippers that you bought when you first moved in.

a/n: had this in the drafts for like two years and did nothing ab it so i'm sorry for the half assed ending its been hectic recently

©tora-ken 2024

[secretagentsloveblogs]

god okay but have you considered that

guy and honey who are broke college roommates turned lovers who dont make great money, they've scraped together coins for cheap gas station food and $1 dvd rentals for friday nights indoors. guy brings home dinner frequently because its cheap. honey has the public transportation routes memorized. their car/s is/are old, used and has more than a few problems that they're only fixing with duct tape and a prayer. their furniture is thrifted and upcycled with a little DIY work when manageable, or its handed down to them from friends, coworkers, family, etc. guy and honey who get food stamps and sign up for the programs around the holidays that supply people and families in need with a holiday meal. guy and honey who know plenty of tips and tricks to make their clothing last. guy and honey who are friends with the people at the food banks, pantries and soup kitchens, and who regularly volunteer when they have the time. honey, who has a (very small) veggie garden that sits in their window sill (it grows onions and mint). honey who hasn't bought a new pair of tennis shoes in like 6 years. guy and honey who bought their couch on facebook marketplace for like $20 from a guy in a sketchy alleyway. they collect their plastic bottles and cans to donate at their grocery stores for a bit of extra cash. their walls are mostly bare. they have a small tv on an even smaller shelf in their living room and college dorm era fairy lights hung behind the couch. they have a 14 year old plant that was gifted to them by one of honeys coworkers they consider a 'work mom' and it's one of their most cherished valuables. they eat dinner together at their "table" which is just two tv dinner trays pushed together with salt and pepper in between the trays. and its the mostbeautiful thing to them because it is their home that they created together.

bc i think u should consider it.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!jongho x f!reader

synopsis ✭ when you come home from a less-than-perfect day, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found, but you don't want to call him and ask him to come home while he's out with friends. even though he'd drop everything if he knew you were struggling.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI, established relationship, non-idol!au, hurt to comfort, slightly angsty, relatively fluffy (certainly the fluffiest thing i've ever written here)

word count ✭ 2.5k

note ✭ so this was something i really needed to write for myself, i think. for those who don't know (which is all of you lol) i have adhd. where i see it the most in my own life is chronic procrastination. it's something i've had to learn to cope with a lot throughout my life. a lot of times, when i feel the need to avoid feeling the stress of my personal life, i'll scroll on instagram or tumblr forever. which then leads to a heaping ton of guilt in the following hours as i try to make up for lost time. it's a wonderful cycle.

anyway, this is to say, that coping alone can be incredibly difficult. don't get me wrong, i have a handful of wonderful friends (who go to school across the country) and an angel of a therapist, but i often romanticize having someone there to help drag me out of those hopeless cycles. and not because i think i need someone to do it for me, but having that person is a really comforting thought. and, today, that is jongho i guess 😀

that being said, this mc doesn't necessarily have adhd, but they are certainly experiencing something that i experience very frequently as a byproduct of it.

like, is this smut? yeah, but im allowed to be emotional 😗

warnings ✭ mc is stressed af, protected sex, really soft sex (they're in love 😤)

✭✭✭✭

It was a terrible day. One of the worst you’d had in a while. Nothing seemed to be going your way. You’d ripped your favorite pair of tights this morning when getting ready in a hurry after waking up super late. You’d locked yourself out of the apartment. The seven dollar coffee you’d bought for yourself to cope with aforementioned events had spilt all over your desk, ruining the book you had just received as a gift from a coworker. And, to top it all off, your boss had demanded you to stay late to finish what was supposed to be his job.

So when you finally made it back to your apartment, after waiting in the lobby forever waiting for your landlord to let you in, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch with your boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms. 

You were plagued with fatigue as you slipped out of your work shoes and made your way through the kitchen and into the living room, not finding him anywhere. The bedroom the two of you shared was also completely vacant. Nothing had changed since you’d left this morning. He hadn’t been home all day.

Maybe he’s just working late, you thought, slightly defeated knowing you’d have to wait for him, not knowing how long it would take. 

Trying to take your mind off of it, you scrolled on your phone for a completely indiscernible amount of time, feeling completely defeated with the day you’d had. Moving in with Jongho months ago has been an incredibly helpful step for you. Before the two of you had lived together, you were a master of procrastinating your own feelings. Constantly letting yourself rot away in your bed and letting the day pass you by. Only to be plagued by that crushing guilt that came with letting a day go by unproductively. Living with Jongho had given you someone to hold you accountable. To pull you out of bed because sometimes it was impossible to do it on your own.

But on nights like these, where your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, which was not a common occurrence, you felt yourself slipping back into the endless cycle of losing yourself in your phone for countless hours. 

Hours passed and the sun was almost completely down before you received a text from your boyfriend.

| jongho 🐻🤎: hey love, sorry i had to stay late for work today. i’m gonna go get some drinks with my coworkers.

| jongho 🐻🤎: that ok?

God, you felt so helpless. How horrible and controlling of a partner would you be to tell him ‘no?’ Did he ask? Yes, but you desperately didn’t want to be the girl who always needed to be by her boyfriend’s side. Telling him he couldn’t go out with his friends would make you feel like such a nuisance. You stared at the screen for a good two minutes, biting your thumb, trying to think of how to respond.

| jongho 🐻🤎: y/n? 

| jongho 🐻🤎: i can see you read the message. is everything alright?

Before you could even draft a response, his name flashed across the screen. Taking a deep breath, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call.

“Hi,” you picked up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You could hear some of his coworkers in the background. He must already be at the bar. 

You held in a sigh, “Nothing, I’m alright. Why?”

“Y/n, you read and didn’t respond to my message. Like you were overthinking a response."

You didn’t say anything. Overthinking yet another response.

“Love, I don’t even want to be here that badly. If you need me to come home, I will. But you’ve gotta tell me.” He was being so patient with you. So much more patient than you thought you deserved, though he would certainly disagree with that.

You took a deep breath, nearing tears, “I–” this was so incredibly hard, “Can you please come home? I didn’t really have a great day.”

“Of course, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“No, it’s alright. I just need to see you.”

“Ok, just hang in there alright. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and we can watch a movie when I get back. I’ll pick up some takeout on my way, too.”

When you hang up, you force yourself to get out of bed and get in the shower. It’s so rewarding and feels so relaxing that you can’t imagine why you ever couldn’t get out of the bed in the first place. But, of course, you say that every time. 

✭✭✭✭

By the time you had gotten out of the shower and dried your hair, Jongho had made it home with the takeout he’d promised in hand. 

When you left your bedroom, you saw him sitting on the floor in your living room. He’d lit a candle on the coffee table and set the food down with it. You could tell he’d changed out of his work clothes into a hoodie and basketball shorts, mirroring your almost identical outfit. He didn’t notice you at first. He was chatting to someone on the phone, seemingly a friendly conversation, and not one you wanted to interrupt. When he saw you, though, you heard him say goodbye to whoever was on the line. 

Throwing his phone down on the couch, he got up from the floor and met you at the door of your bedroom. Pulling you into a big hug, he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“No pressure, but, if you wanna talk about your day, we can.”

You shook your head, “Not really. I just wanna eat, I think.”

The two of you ate, sitting in comfortable silence on the floor in your living room. You noticed as you took in the scene around you, that Jongho had turned off all the overhead lights in the room. Leaving only the candlelight and the string lights around the ceiling to illuminate the room. There was something about warm lighting that made everything feel so much more cozy and comfortable. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t the most physically affectionate individual, but he never failed to make you feel loved. He always noticed the small things. He was hyper aware of your emotions in the least patronizing way possible. It was little moments like bringing home food for you and turning the cool-toned overhead lights off that reminded you that this man knew you better than anyone.

And that wasn’t something that happened overnight. He tried harder than anyone you’d ever met to know you. Your likes, dislikes, discomforts, phobias, and even your little habits. He knew it all. What he knew most is that you desired so bad to have someone to pull you out of your slump. Which is why he had come home early.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay out with your friends,” you whispered, staying focused on the food in front of you.

“I didn’t come home because I felt any obligation to. It’s not that I couldn’t stay out with my friends. It’s that you needed me here at home, and I wanted to come home and comfort you.” He ran a hand over your hair as he finished up his own food. 

That was another thing you loved about him. He wasn’t saying this because he wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to know that you were not alone. That you were free to feel your feelings, and he’d always be right beside you to comfort you through them.

“Thank you,” you looked up at him, “I love you, you know that, right?”

“How could I ever forget? I love you, too, y/n.”

✭✭✭✭

After the food was gone and the coffee table was cleared, Jongho had put on a movie laid down on the couch, holding out his arms for you. When you finally sat between his legs and leaned into his chest, he pulled a quilted blanket over the two of you, wrapping his arms around you.

You paid very little mind to the movie playing on the TV. Instead you were focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady beating of his heart, and the minor movements his chest would make when he let out a soft laugh whatever he was watching.

He played with your hair, running his fingers through the strands, softly brushing his fingers over your neck with each pass. This position couldn’t have been more comfortable. Being with the man you loved as he comforted you in the way he knew best with absolutely no complaint was more than you could’ve ever dreamed of.

Jongho would claim that it was the bare minimum, but you always felt the need to let him know how much he really amazed you. 

When you reached your hand up to his cheek to brush your thumb over the skin, he looked down at you, completely forgetting about the movie playing. He grabbed your hand from his cheek and kissed your fingers, your palm, the back of your hand, the inside of your wrist.

Pulling yourself up to his face, you kissed him as softly as he’d done to your hand. Everything was so soft. From the way he kissed you to the way he caressed the skin under your hoodie right above the waistband of your shorts. From the hand you had in his hair to the way he lifted you to sit more comfortably in his lap.

He kissed your neck just as softly. You sighed contently. Fully basking in the way he took care of you. His movie was fully disregarded at this point as he gripped the bottom of your shirt.

Looking into your eyes he asked, “can I take care of you, love?” You nodded, helping him lift the sweatshirt over your head. 

Before you could even comprehend the nakedness of your chest, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your shared bed. Laying you on your back. Your bare skin taking immense comfort in the softness of your sheet. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw his pants off to the side.

He immediately went back to kissing you. Hands moving from your cheeks, down your neck. His thumbs caressed your collarbone as his lips brushed the crook of your neck and then your shoulder. You shuddered when one of his hands took your breast. His lips met the other one, causing you to let out a breathy moan and weave your fingers through his dark hair.

He continued to kiss and touch every inch of your torso. When he got to your waistband, he left a small kiss under your belly button. His big brown eyes meeting your own as he pulled your shorts and underwear off together. Tossing them to the side of the bed. 

Lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, he kissed your inner thigh, still meeting your eyes. The eye contact wasn’t broken until his thumb met your clit. Brushing over it slightly, making you toss your head back into the pillows under you. His mouth replaced his thumb, slowly teasing you. 

With his free hand, he took your own hand, the one that wasn’t gripping his hair, and threaded his fingers through yours. Thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

He felt so good. His tongue working so hard to make you feel pleasure. Everything was so gentle, but felt so euphoric. His fingers pumping in and out of you as he sucked on your clit. You felt like you could’ve floated away with the way he caressed your hand and your thigh. It wasn’t long before you were washed with a wave of pleasure. Everything was hot. You felt it rush through you from your ears down to your cunt. He kissed your thigh one more time after you came, fingers pushing you through the finale of your orgasm. 

Your breathing was ragged when he made it back up to your face, kissing you tenderly. Reaching a hand beneath the pillow under your head. He pulled out a condom. Before he could open it, you plucked it out of his hands, tearing it open as he stripped himself of his own underwear before you rolled the rubber onto his length. He groaned at the touch.

“You ready?” He asked, grabbing your arm and kissing your wrist.

You nodded, smiling, “yes. please, baby.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped and threw your head back again. He kissed your neck and shoulder, slowly thrusting into you. On most occasions, you’d beg him to go faster, but his subdued nature in this moment was so incredibly comforting. His thumb massaged your clit.

He kissed you deeply as he thrust into you. Completely overtaking your lips with his own. His kisses were so full of passion that your head spun. His adoration for you was so evident from the way he looked into your eyes when he stopped kissing you. Your foreheads pressed together, separated only by a thin layer of sweat. 

“I love you so much, y/n,” he says, just above a whisper. So close that you can feel his breath tickle your lips when he says it.

You moan softly, feeling yourself reach a second high, “I love you, too.”

It’s only a matter of minutes before you reach your orgasm. You grip his shoulders tight as he coaxes you through your climax. Walls fluttering around him as he finishes inside the condom. 

He kisses your lips once more before pulling out. He pushes himself off the bed to throw it away. When he comes back, he slides back into bed with you. Breath still slightly ragged. 

You laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat once more.

Running a hand over his stomach, you said, “Thanks for coming home early today.”

“Of course, love. You know I’d drop anything to come home to you if you were struggling.”

“I just feel like such a nuisance asking for you to come home,” you groaned.

He ran a hand over your hair, “I will never ever see you asking for help as a nuisance. Sometimes you just need a little push. Or sometimes you just need to lay in someone’s arms. I will always be there to do that for you. No matter the circumstance, ok?”

You wanted to protest, tell him he was too much, too good to you, but he kept going, “I trust you. I know that when you ask me to come home, it’s not because you're insecure or controlling. It’s because you need help, and I want you to always feel comfortable asking for it.”

He’d left you just a little bit speechless. All you could respond with was a gentle kiss on his lips.

For him, though, that was more than enough.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ok this shit got really personal 💀 but i did really enjoy writing it. it's not often that i write a whole oneshot in one sitting but i did today (other than my minor break to eat dinner).

also, i was actually between writing this for vernon or jongho because i felt like they both kinda fit the vibe (sorry if the knowledge that this could have been a hansol fic makes anyone sad), but maybe i'll write something similar for him next time i'm feeling it

again, i hope you enjoyed this! thank you so much for reading 💗

mwah~

[rinachains]

[don't] bite at the hand that feeds you

contents: geto suguru x fem!reader; cult leader!geto; reader's mother can't see curses but reader can; fingers in mouth action (not sexual though); manipulation, mentions of murder, very toxic dynamic, power dynamic, dark content

synopsis: you make what you think is an innocent request. suguru thinks otherwise.

wc: 3.1k

a/n: i wanted to experiment with my writing style a bit, so this is the result of that :') hope y'all enjoy it. comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! divider credits: @/strangergraphics

The jasmine tea that runs down your throat tastes sweeter than usual.

You always drink it with exactly two sugar cubes - Suguru knows it. Your mother used to make your tea this way and you have stuck to it, the drink having a soothing effect on you.

Suguru’s room is illuminated by candles that cast dancing shadows whenever one of you moves. They stand in the middle of the table in front of you, kind of like a home altar. Burned essence, smoke, steeped tea leaves and disinfectant spray tickle your nose. You exhale, slowly.

“Is the tea to your liking?” Suguru momentarily glances over his shoulder as he sorts some documents on his desk. He always asks you this question, and every time your answer is, ‘Yes, thank you’. But not today.

“It’s pretty sweet.”

A muttered “Is it?” as he puts away one last file.

“Yeah.” Quickly followed by, “It’s still delicious.” And after two seconds, “Thank you.”

The twins - your little lambs - once told you at breakfast that Suguru had never had bought jasmine tea before, only black or green tea. It appeared in their cupboard half a year ago, the packet only emptying when you came over. You never told him that you favoured jasmine tea out of all the flavours. But a beholden mouth is supposed to remain closed, opening only for expressions of gratitude.

Suguru walks over to the futon you’re sitting on and sits down beside you. He’s elegant for a man of his stature, gifted with poised, calming movements. Never in a hurry – he likes to take his time. Normally.  

His gojo-kesa still on, loosened at the top, allowing you to glimpse at the marrow of his collar bones spread out like wings, flying above you. His black hair opened, welcoming you in like the cloak of death. His face shimmers so pale in the candlelight that you believe to see his skull, breakable bones. But he is too alive to yet be considered a dead man walking.

Suguru is busy these days, perhaps more so than ever. The mentions of his plan become frequent, burning into your ears like a prayer.

Leaning back on his hands, he begins to tell you a story. He explains that he read it once while walking through a library, and that he still can’t forget about it. You're reminded of your younger days when your mother would read you bedtime stories before you went to sleep – every night you’d ask for a German folk tale. She used to scold you, claiming it wasn’t good for you to hear too many of them. They're too dark for your young mind, it would taint you, mess with you. You didn't listen to her, because you didn't understand.

You're not sure if you do now.  

Suguru continues to tell the story and you re-cross your legs, your calves numb from all the standing and walking and running today. You can feel a cramp starting to form, so you hold your breath as you stretch one leg out for a few seconds.

You find yourself not paying full attention. Only a few snippets of the story stay with you, pinned to the wall inside your brain. Bound together. Having to choose. Loyalty. Love. Devotion. Betrayal. The protagonist stayed with the man who murdered his entire abusive family.

You’ve moved a lot today, your shirt clings to your wet skin, leaving see-through spots. The scent of vanilla and sweat fuse together, a throb in the temple of your head that plays a shrill melody. You wipe the collected sweat off your brow, your makeup starting to separate. The hair at your nape is damp and sticking together uncomfortably, creating a spider web. You really need to take a shower.

Suguru doesn't mind it. He told you that once. He prefers your natural form, cut open for him. You shouldn't hide yourself, he mentioned as he scrubbed you clean a few nights ago, your skin raw. You show me all of you, and I show you all of me. Granted permission to expose each other.

You were still fresh-lipped when you first visited his temple, wounds unnoticed by the average eye, caused by the monsters around you whose existence you couldn't comprehend. Suguru helped you. A limp that disfigured your foot, which he immediately noticed with his keen eyes, so he decided to save you, to purify you. He beckoned you in, holding treats in one hand, a leash hidden behind his back in the other.

Your mother was the catalyst; the one who brought you to him and sealed your fate. You guess you miss her. You are her only child and she is your only parent.

Sometimes you ask yourself if the love she’s coated you with – the blanket she’s tucked you in - is the love that would have been given to your father; sometimes heated anger slips through the moth-eaten holes in the blanket. Even when you’ve done nothing wrong. But your irises are coloured with a different palette to hers, and your voice is much steadier than her trembling, whistling one. An innate mistake, a painful reminder of what was, impossible to erase. Both a blessing and a curse.

A younger, high-pitched voice within you asks for her, frail from her absence. It seems to need nurturing, but your current body is quite full now.

Suguru finishes the story and asks what you think of it.

You take a sip of your tea, the sugar hurts your teeth and your mouth curls in response. The sweetness takes on a note of bitterness, staining your tongue.

Devotion can be a sickening thing, mistaking an unbreakable chain for a string meant to bind two souls together. One soul ends up playing the role of the loyal dog, always coming back even after a blow or a kick; most faithful. Dooming loyalty that will deliberately rot your intestines.

You gulp down the liquid and respond, “He was brave to stay by his side.”

Suguru hums, “I thought so too.”

The clink of ceramic cups, left-over cold tea swimming at the bottom - strange. It was warm just a moment ago.

You clear your throat, the sound nearly stuck in the back.

"I've been thinking about visiting my mother. It's been too long since I last saw her."

An innocent announcement; a mindless roll of your tongue, a secondary thought. It's truly innocent; an adult remembering that they're still a child to someone, and you don't think anyone else could see it otherwise.

"Your mother?" Suguru repeats, "I see." 

You've been with him long enough to notice the change in his tone. Your finger curls around a strand of your hair, toying with it.

"Is there a problem?"

"I'm surprised. You haven't mentioned her in a while."

"That's why I want to meet up with her again."

"But why?"

"You mean why I want to meet up with her?" You blink, disbelief falling from your lashes. "Well, she's my mother."

"So it's out of obligation."

"…Suguru. What-"

"Let me ask differently: do you want to see her?"

His voice stays candied the whole time. Sickly.

“I believe I wouldn’t be unhappy to see her,” you reply with caution. Your palms are hot and cold.

He clicks his tongue, "Say: do you think my cause is meaningless? Do you think I’m not serious enough about it?”

"No,” you respond, so faintly that you're not sure the word even escaped your mouth. Then, increased in volume, “No, of course not."

"Do you think it would be wise from me and the people who have joined my side to make exceptions?”

A paper falls from his desk.

"...What do you mean?"

"You're a smart girl, you know exactly what I mean."  

A sharp pain runs through your leg – there’s the cramp you’ve been dreading.

“Do you mean it?”

You wear your mother’s face. Parts of it. Doesn’t he feel resentment towards you too?

"I can't make exceptions. We can’t make them. Once you start with making one, it will multiply, and we’ll lose sight of our goal."  

It makes sense, you say to yourself. He’s right.

You should hide in the shadows, away from his reach. But he’d find you, you’re sure of it.

"She’s my mother, Suguru…how could I ever do this to her?"

You wonder if his next words come from a curse stuck in his throat.

"I killed my parents."

What should be a confession sounds more like a simple piece of information. Common knowledge. Apathetic. You keep a steady face, fangs not bared. You’re good, after all.

"Did you struggle?"

His head falls back into his neck, leaving enough space for a knife to cut across it. Would his blood be wine, intoxicating your senses, or a forest fire, burning you alive?

"Not as much as I thought. But I didn't think too much about it - I just did what I thought had to be done. It wasn't meaningless." Amber locks into your form, "Do you think of me differently now? Did I destroy your perception of me?"

You’re aware of the desperate darkness that clings to him; you felt it the moment he first entered your view. Instead of feeling dread, you were guided by curiosity, which was then delicately replaced by his hand. You could have turned around – you had the chance. And yet you walked into your own demise.

"I’m not sure," you take another second, maybe even two or three, “did you love them?”

“I did,” his answer comes out placid, “But they would have been a hindrance for my plan.”

Your leg has become numb at this point.

"Do you want to leave?"

Do you want to abandon me?

You swallow. The sound is too loud, bouncing off the bars that surround the four walls of his room. Was the tapestry in your room a sky-blue, or was it a steel-blue? Did your alarm clock stand on your bedside table or on your work desk? You're rummaging through your memory, but it’s all a blur.

"Would you let me?"  

Would you ever give me a choice?

He sighs, "I need you by my side. That's the only thing I'd demand from you."

"The only thing, huh?" Your stare drifts to your lap, leg bouncing restlessly. “Don’t be so modest with your demands.”

The tea cup stops under his chin.

"What was that tone?" His head tilts, "Or did I just imagine that?"

You'd like to claim it’s an unexpected switch, but Suguru has always walked a fine line between malice and tenderness. You should have expected this, really. The light in his eyes dims, as if you extinguished a flickering flame from a candle. It happens so quickly, you can’t catch it and you can’t prepare for it.

Before you can take another breath and apologise for what slipped out, two of his fingers enter your mouth, your teeth scraping against them, the pads of them rubbing against the muscle of your tongue. You're drooling, thick wetness coating his fingers and dripping down your chin, and you’re heaving against the intrusion in your mouth, cheek bellowing. Suguru rubs along your gums, your jaw forced to open wider until you hear a nauseating pop from your jawbone. You can taste his day on your finger.

"Don't you like it when you're full of me?" his brows drawn together, two arrows that make you focus on the crinkled skin between them. For a moment, you’re gone somewhere else, merging into the skin you’re staring at. With a blink, you’re forced out of it, back here again.

His gaze is indifferent, and you’re met with obsidian spheres for pupils; remnants of his cursed technique. You try to say something, but the words come gurgling out of your throat; you’re speaking underwater, blood filling your lungs as the tips of his daggers grace your uvula, and you choke. Helplessly, you cling to his arm - as if he could save you from himself - knuckles bone-white, green in the face, red splotches marring your cheekbones.

Suguru tuts, "You shouldn't speak with your mouth full."

Then, you bite down. Hard. You think you hear a scrunch. A loyal dog is still a dog at the end of the day, capable of biting, tearing through the muzzle that is constricting it.

Hissing through clenched teeth, he immediately withdraws his hand. Threads of mucus connect his fingers to your shining lips, and for a moment you expect a slap, eyes immediately squeezed shut, but his hand cups the cracked porcelain of your cheek. Blunt nails dig in, painting you.

"Have you never heard of the saying 'don't bite at the hand that feeds you'? Don't start acting out now, you've been so good this far."

His words stir your saliva into spoiled syrup. Your tongue cotton, sticking to the bottom. Shakily, you breathe out, "You're…"

"What? Sick? A monster?" The thin tails of his brows twitch, mocking you, "wasn't I your savior?"

He sees his reflection in the tears that gather at the edges of your eyes; a self-portrait, a caricature of a God. Him, him, him. He'll always find himself inside of you, blossoming from the seed carefully planted in the pit of your stomach.

Bleary eyes and clumped eyelashes. Not crystals, not diamonds, but raindrops that had fallen from the grey sky, stripped of their lustre. Suguru could live with this sight for the rest of his life, getting rid of it, and bringing it back, getting rid of it, and bringing it back. A heavenly cycle.

“Don’t cry,” he smiles.

A tear falls with a flutter and rolls down the plump swell of your cheek, leaving behind a wet trail, and before it can reach your jaw, Suguru catches it with his finger. He brings it up, tongue flicking out to lick it, sea salt prickling him. Suguru groans; a poor, starving man tasting a rare, exotic delicacy for the first time. Delectable. Addictive. You fear he might not stop here, that greed might overtake him.

You burn, "Why?”

"You didn't really leave me much of a choice."

“It scared me.”

You scare me.

“My poor girl,” Suguru coos, velvety. His lithe fingers are cold, ice, on your face as they stroke your pulsing flesh. “Sometimes you just have to think before you say something. Alright?”

Your eyebrows crease and Suguru kisses them away. His kisses wander over the bridge of your nose, your cupid’s bow, hovering over the plush of your lower lip, and then your chin. His lips leave marks that burn into your skin, scorching, leaving invisible white tissue, and you nearly reach out to scratch at them, feeling as if your skin might melt away.

Your spine tingles, buried under thick muscles and crawling like a centipede.

“Alright?” It echoes.

You try your best to give him a nod. Your neck is stiff and you're afraid it might fall off if you move wrong. The urge to wring it out like a wet cloth enters you, but you get lost in the spirals of gold in his eyes - trapped between them, forced to keep looking.

Your lips crack open, a wooden door croaking and crying.

"I still don't understand."

"You don't have to,” he retorts, silk from the tip of his tongue wrapping around your own, "your heart does it for you. Don't you feel it?"

Bile rises to your throat as he clasps his large palm over your smaller one, bringing it to your chest. Your heart races, too hard, too fast, an uneven, repulsive rhythm. "It beats for me, doesn't it? Has it ever beaten like this for anyone else?"

You shake your head. Less stiff, this time. More precipitate.

His thumb rubs along your wet, briny cheek, warming it like a cup of milk, molding it into a smooth surface. And you fall into him. You're a traitor.

The ends of his lips curve down, feigning sadness. You're shaken and he wants to cradle you into his arms, whispering that everything will be all right as he rocks you from side to side. Carry you like a child carries a baby doll, with pure affection and the carelessness of too much eagerness.

"Come here," he mutters as he leans into you, caging you in. Your guts are churning, broken stones sitting so heavily in your abandonment that you can't move.

He runs a hand through your hair, stroking it, and exhales as his body collapses against yours. Hard muscles soften, you could tear them apart if that’s what you wished for. Your insides squirm like maggots infesting a corpse, and you wonder if he can detect the scent of decay. Your lungs wither, it hurts to breathe.

You consider banging your head against the floor. Let your mind rearrange itself.

Your back lands on the cushion of the futon beneath you as he moves you to lie down. His head falls between the joined space of your neck and shoulder, huffing leafy breath into your skin, his hair tickling your exposed spots. You can feel the angle of his soft smile, the blood pumping through his veins. He’s alive. Peach fuzz turns into needles.

“You mean so much to me. To my family. You’ll never get hurt here.” Earnest like a fox from a fable, saccharine words float between you. He plants a kiss on the crown of your head, declaring you his. You bury your face in the hollow of his neck, your eyelids dropping close. “You want to be my family too, don’t you?”

It’s all so tender and considerate. Calculated.

His words are never meaningless, not purely meant to fill silence. He speaks with intent - each syllable carrying weight, delivered with sharp, cutting precision. You try to decipher them, to mimic them, as if translating ancient ruins.

“Don't," Suguru warns, pressing his palm to the side of your face, "don't think too much. You’ll hurt your head like that.”

Glimpses of a golden boy, carrying far too much in his feeble heart, transformed into a bronze statue that is looked up to, ghosts of rust on his hands and feet and mouth and throat.

He separates from you and you continue to lie still. A body buried alive. One that has given up.

"Do you want another one?" Suguru asks you as he reaches out for the kettle and gracefully pours the remaining water into your cup. The water fills the cup to the brim, and any careless movement threatens to tip it over. The sugar dissolves, disappearing in a mist that obscures your vision.

"Yes, please."

[grapejuice32]

pls pls pls do kook JJ x reader. i love seeing how the money takes his recklessness up a notch

Yet Again

Kook!JJ x Kook!reader

Masterlist

Notes : Kook JJ would be an absolute menace and he would be best friends with Rafe, you can't convince me otherwise

It'd been an unusual amount of time since you'd heard from JJ, usually he would be hassling you to join him at the country club or to join him and Rafe at Tannyhill, or he'd just show up at your house out of the blue. So when it had been about 12 hours since you'd heard from him, you got concerned. But you weren't concerned that something had happened to him, no, you were concerned that he had gotten himself into some trouble by doing something stupid with Rafe. Again. When the time on your phone showed that it was now 2am, you decided to give up on waiting to hear from him and to just go to sleep. But of course, typical as ever, as soon as you began to drift off, your phone's blaring ring tone woke you up. After being with JJ for a year, you'd learnt that it was best not to put your phone on silent, considering he would call you at all sorts of times for all sorts of reasons.

You picked your phone up, your eyes squinting as you read the words, Kildare Sheriffs Department, on the screen and you groaned, "Hello?"

"This is Shoupe, just thought I'd let you know you might want to come get your boy. I've just received some noise complaints about some get together him and Rafe are having," The way he delivered the message sounded very well rehearsed and it didn't surprise you since phone calls like this were incredibly regular for you to receive, "they're somewhere down on the beach."

"Yeah, thanks Shoupe." You sighed, hanging up the phone and pulling on a pair of shorts with one of JJ's t-shirts you'd already been wearing. When complaints about JJ came in, Shoupe tended to just call you to deal with it considering the two times he had detained JJ had resulted in a mass of complaints that he couldn't be bothered to put up with on the regular. You left your house and climbed into your car and made the short drive over to the part of the beach they frequented, when you got there you groaned at the load music playing from the speakers of Rafe's truck.

You got out the car and made you way to where you could see JJ and Rafe sat on a log, sharing a blunt between them, JJ let out a loud holler when he saw you, raising his arms in a cheer, his face dropping when he saw the glare he was receiving from you.

"Oh hey, mama. What's with the face, huh?" He feigned innocence, though the smirk lining his lips told you he knew exactly why.

"Noise complaint. Again. It's two in the fucking morning, J." You raised your brows, snatching the beer from his hand he bought it up to his lips and taking a swig of it, turning your nose up at how warm the beverage was, "I was going to sleep when I got the call."

He mockingly pouted at you, "Oh 'm sorry, baby. C'mere," he tapped his thigh, beckoning you to come sit on his lap causing you to roll your eyes and let him place his hands on. your waist and pull you down onto him, "there, all better now, huh."

You huffed and lay your head on his shoulder, ignoring Rafe's drunken snickering from behind you. You lasted a total of two minutes before you grew tired of the pounding music, "I wanna go home." You mumbled into JJ's ear, also hoping to kill the party by getting JJ to leave.

"Shit, yeah okay. Let's go get you into bed, huh?" He pulled you out of his lap and stood, swinging an arm around your shoulders and finishing off his beer.

"So fuckin' whipped, man." Rafe chuckled from besides you, "Get her back in one piece, can't have us gettin' in trouble without her there to get us out f'it."

JJ laughed and slapped Rafe's shoulder, "See you tomorrow, man."

He pulled you tighter into his side and pressed a kiss to your temple as he walked you both in the direction of your car. The drive back to your place was silent, he rested a hand on your thigh and you could feel his eyes on you as you kept yours on the road while you drove. By the time you got home it was half three, as soon as the both of you were in your bedroom you pulled off your shorts and climbed into bed, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. You could hear the rustling of clothes as JJ got undressed and slipped into bed beside you in just his boxers. His arm slid around your waist and he pressed a few apologetic kisses to your exposed neck, you hummed and rolled over to face him, laying your head on his bare chest, "Thanks for coming home when I asked."

" 'S no problem, mama. But I um-" he cut himself off clearing his throat like he was debating confessing something to you.

A sigh of annoyance escaped you, "What've you done?" You murmured half asleep.

"I uh, I may have gotten into some debt with Barry that I need help with cause I've been cut off for a couple of weeks..." He admitted sheepishly, causing you to let out a disgruntled groan.

You tangled your legs between his and whispered, "Just shut up and go to sleep," not wanting to have to listen to how he'd been cut off yet again for spending his money on stupid things, yet again, you didn't even bother to ask if Rafe could pay if off, knowing that if JJ had been cut off then Rafe probably had too, "I'll deal with it in the morning."

"Love you, baby." He drawled, bringing a hand up from where it had rested on your waist to run through your hair soothingly, you hummed in acknowledgement as you drifted off, mentally preparing yourself for another day being spent getting JJ out of trouble.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[diazsdimples]

Here's a cute fact about the first year of Buck and Eddie's relationship. Buck decided to surprise Eddie with one gift for every week of their first year together.

It started completely by accident because they were going for a walk, and Buck realised it had been a whole week since they'd finally confessed their feelings for each other! So, while Eddie found a public bathroom (he's got the bladder of a child and Buck teases him so hard for it), Buck ducked into a tourist shop, panicked at all the stuff that was there, and found Eddie a small, carved elephant. He presented it to Eddie while they were on the beach, all shy and cute with a little "happy one week, baby."

The second week was also accidental - Buck had been at the grocery store and found a pretty red rose, and had a flashback to Eddie grumbling at one point that all his girlfriends expected him to get them flowers, but no one ever got him flowers! So he got Eddie the rose and politely pretended he didn't see how misty eyed it made Eddie.

The third week was a little book on cool fungi that Eddie had spotted when they were looking for a birthday present for Chris. He'd been looking at it wistfully but apparently couldn't justify the price (Buck could though, so he bought it and hid it in Eddie's locker)

By the 4th week, Buck's realised he's started a Thing. He woke up on the morning of the 4th week, and hadn't found anything so h went outside, fretted around a bit and fond a really cool rock, which he gave to Eddie. He told Eddie that otters have favourite rocks and Eddie reminded him of an otter, so therefore needs a rock of his own. He stole it back later that evening and painted it in a pretty orange/pink pattern that Eddie loved.

And so it continued. Buck would find something small (or maybe something big, like one time he accidentally bought home this big grand clock he'd found at the antiques store and Eddie teased and teased him about it when he said it was for Eddie because "baby when have I ever shown interest in clocks") every week, and every week Eddie would hold him close and thank him for the gifts.

Around the 48th week, Buck realised that 1. they've become hoarders a little bit and 2. it's almost been a year and what the fuck does he get his boyfriend that already has 48 other gifts?? He goes to Hen and Chim and Bobby about it, and they're also at a loss, because as Bobby says, it's not like Eddie's short on things these days. Chimney very helpfully says "well I would tell you to get him a skateboard that doubles as a backpack but that was last week's gift so..." It's only then that Hen asks if he's ever considered asking Eddie to marry him.

That's it sorted. Buck's going to get Eddie a ring for the 52nd week. Nothing feels right when he goes to jewelers, though. They're all too standard and boring, and nothing feels like BuckandEddie. He ends up finding this very cool lump of obsidian in a box from his travels, which he takes to the jeweler and asks if they can turn it into a ring. They can't, because it shatters, but they do make a band out of gold and create an inlay of obsidian in the band. Buck plans this big, elaborate proposal for their 1 year anniversary, which naturally Eddie accepts. Eddie makes Buck promise never to buy him anything again, which of course Buck can't do but he makes the gifts a lot less frequent and more practical.

[i-cant-sing]

I feel so nauseous that I can't study, but all I can think about is friends with benefits Dabi and reader just sitting on the couch late at midnight, after sleeping together, are just basking in the dim yellow lights of the apartment. Everything is quiet, they're eating some leftovers, a crappy romcom movie is playing in the background.

Dabi swears to himself that youre nothing more than just stress relief for him, but everytime he comes over, he stays a little longer after. He doesn't have to, you don't make him, but... he just can't help being in your presence longer. Something inside him heals bit by bit when you laugh- no, let out an ugly snort before leaning against his shoulder, the warm yellow lights caressing your face, your dishevelled hair becoming an even more untamed mess when you run up to the kitchen to get the last serving.

You must feel it too... the way your hands always manage to find his hands, his cheeks, find him. Your soft skin against his rough one.

"You should use some vaseline."

You said, a cheeky smile on your face as you laid on the couch, your feet resting on his lap as he smoked a cigarette, looking at you with unamused eyes.

"It'll make your skin soft overnight." You added.

Dabi took a long drag before exhaling the smoke. "You should learn how to cook."

"Hm?"

"Your food tastes like crap." He lied, placing the cigarette back to his lips.

"Then whyd you eat half the pan of lasagna?" You asked before using your toes to pull the cigarette away from him, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"To save you from eating your own poisonous food."

"Hmm, well that isn't the meal you come here to devour anyways." You giggle before pulling your feet away. He almost pulled them back- almost.

"Stop with the cringe." He closed his eyes, a small smile played on his lips. "Should've cut your cable off. They're a bad influence on you."

You rolled your eyes before getting up, walking towards the bathroom. "Just let me know when you're coming next time. I'll try to cook something good for his Majesty." You said as you turned on the shower. "Or better yet, bring the groceries in, and I'll cook."

He glanced in your direction, where you were taking off your clothes.

Should he join you? Could he-?

No.

-

Dabi hadn't called again as he arrived by your place. But it looked like you already anticipated his arrival, from the note you had placed on the fridge for him to find.

"Gone out for groceries for your hungry ass. Be back soon.

Love, Y/n."

Love, Y/n.

Why did 2 words make his heart bloom? For sure, this isn't a panic attack or PTSD he's experiencing... maybe it is... love?

Dabi sat on your couch, closing his eyes as he lit another cigarette to calm his nerves. He needed it for what he about to do, as he pulled put the small box from his pocket.

He never bought groceries. But he had bought something else.

A ring.

He's sure about you, sure about his feelings for you, pretty sure your feelings for him are mutual too. He doesn't need to formally date you... you two are different. You don't need the usual courtship stiff with him, although he wouldn't be opposed to the idea after marriage.

Marriage. Was he even husband material? You were certainly wife material, the food you cooked, the maternal side he caught a glimpse of when kids came by your door for Halloween, all the soft touches you give him.

You're ready, he's ready too.

And if you say no, if you don't agree, then that's that. He'll stop coming by, and you'll move on too. Just like he will... right?

-

It's been hours. You're still not home and you're not picking up either.

Something is wrong.

He left your apartment and went towards the market you'd frequented. There was a lot of commotion outside the store, with people gathering around a particular spot. He pushed past them, heart beating fast as he hoped it wasn't you. It wasn't you-

There was red. Red on the concrete, red on the bag of groceries spilled all over, red on the white coat you owned, red on the leather bag he had gifted you on your birthday.

It can't be you-

"Young Y/n frequented the store so often. She was a beautiful lady, so kind." Someone said from behind him.

Was? No, no you couldn't he dead-

"And to have gone in such a horrible way too. The drunk driver just drove away. She hit her head on the pavement too. I overhead one of the paramedics say she died on impact!" Someone gasped beside him, but his eyes were focused on the sight in front of him.

Everything's red. Red red red red-

Dabi ran towards the nearest hospital, his ring lying in the pile of blood on the concrete.

As he rushed towards the hospital, a voice deep inside him said something that he'll regret forever.

I should've gotten groceries.