#whenever you bloody want to

[i-want-to-be-spaghettified]

I wanted hot chocolate

And then I realized

That I could just

Make

Hot chocolate

And idk man life is good again

[reksink]

This October Feels a Bit...OFF

Promplist by @/mothscotch 💚

[mariajamel]

A farewell and a reunion or perhaps just two farewells

[doriansbutt]

nightmare mode plus the ‘prevent death always available’ mod is fun bc when you run out of potions (which is every 3 fkin seconds in a fight lbr) you get to spend the next 3+ minutes listening to rook fighting for their life as you sprint to the next encounter through a pulsating red screen and then sometimes there’s banter and rook sounds like nothings wrong so it’s really fun I’m having a great time I can’t wait to fight some dragons 😩🫠🫡

[lususnatura]

blamore when he's in love with someone is like the epitome of ' how deep is your love. ' and honestly, in addition to that song being a banger (the bee gee's has made a lot of those in my opinion though NGL LOL), i say this because it really is that lover who silently wants their partner to give them ALL of their love and who is that ride or die whom won't let anyone break them down + will always have a 'it's both of us versus the world' mindset.

because whenever it comes to love... it is all or nothing with blamore. which means he will be completely devoted to whoever this partner at the time may be, and will kind of have an unspoken expectation that they'll also be devoted to him, but in a very sweet way like twin-flames or something. Because, and don't tell it i said this (nahhh, i'm just kidding around with y'all LOL i know he isn't real ofc but you know the vibes), the plant-hybrid is sort of a romantic deep down

[payslipgig]

…

[comfortfrogblog]

idk what nail biter needs to hear this but do not start messing with your cuticles, you will never recover from it

[stupidnaturals]

oh my god... kid who got arrested for stealing food and always had to give the last bowl to his brother can resist famine bc he's well fed... 🥹

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. play fighting with your lover quickly turns into you being pounded on the couch.

tags. (assassin!)toji x female reader. smut. dōggy style. age gap implied. with plot-ish. unprotected -> p in v. size difference / kink. power trip-ish. teasing. crēampie. dacryphilia. tummy bulging. pūssy slapping. breēding mention. reader gets called ‘(little) girl, pretty, doll, slut.’ not proofread. wc: 3.4k

you let out a sigh of relief when your lover comes back home safe from another mission. toji’s risky job always leaves you anxious, knowing what could happen to him if things took a turn for the worse.

“keheh, there’s my pretty girl,” toji grins as he feels you jump into his embrace the instant he steps into the living room. your arms wrap around his waist and your head rests against his chiseled chest. he’s sweaty and bloody, yet you can’t care less. you’ve waited all day for him.

you tilt your head back and give the black-haired man a quick, passionate kiss. he returns it with equal force before picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. once toji put you down, he reaches a hand out to lazily ruffle your hair, “i’m g’nna take a shower, yeah?”

you shake your head and grab his hand before he can think of moving away. “no, want you to stay. just for a little more,” you attempt to coax toji into staying with you for a bit more.

“after i take a shower, doll. i probably smell ‘n look like shit,” the assassin mumbles in a low tone. his hair is wet with sweat, black locks sticking to his forehead. his compression shirt is torn in some places, but it’s neatly outlining his pecs, which makes him look ten times more attractive.

“nu-uh, you don’t,” you refute and tug at toji’s wrist again. he playfully rolls his eyes after giving in to your innocent request. you clearly don’t mind the sweaty state he’s in. you just want to cuddle up and talk to him about all kinds of things. “you look as handsome as ever,” you smile at him once you straddle his lap. toji’s hands find your hips, his nails ghosting over your skin to send shivers down your spine.

“heh. that ain’t nothin’ new,” your lover leans his head back with a cocky smirk. he knows how much you love it when he’s all sweaty and tired. toji never fails to spot the way your eyes wander up and down his muscular figure whenever he’s wearing that signature outfit of his. a black compression shirt that defines his pecs and white-ish baggy pants. you love it.

your fingers trace circles over his chest. you don’t seem to care about the random crimson droplets on his skin. they’re not his, thus you let it go. asking questions about the job he’s finished will only ruin the mood you’ve set. plus, toji clearly needs some distraction from the fact that his limbs are aching. he’s outdone himself today as well.

“you tired?” you ask through a soft murmur. your boyfriend nods while yawning, teasingly pinching your cheek afterwards. “mhm,” toji hums while playing with the collar of your shirt, eyes wandering down to your tits. one of his most favorite spots on your body.

you’re clearly not wearing a bra and it’s making it difficult for him to stay focused. your nipples push against the material of your pyjamas so deliciously, just begging to be touched by his fingers. he quietly clears his throat and looks the other direction to play it off.

“oh?” you giggle and tap toji’s cheek twice to gain his attention, though with no success. he’s trying his best to come off as nonchalant as possible—to remain that stoic man he’s always been. his attempts are proven futile when you press your breasts against his chest.

“come on, babe. look at meeee,” you laugh and resort to tickling toji’s belly and armpits. he freezes for a second before scoffing at your actions, his hands immediately rush under your shirt to tickle you back. you end up squirming on his lap, trying to swat his arms in attempt to defend yourself.

your lover lets out a haughty chuckle as you become defenceless because of his well calculated revenge tickles. “mm? didn’t hear ya, y’ should speak up,” toji teases you, clearly seeing how you’re struggling to talk as he makes you squeal and laugh uncontrollably.

there are tears forming on your eyes. your breath comes in short gasps when you finally find a chance to jump off toji’s lap. “shut up, fushiguro!” you call out, going back to last name basis, which you know toji dislikes. you stumble back a little and stick your tongue out at your lover before fleeing the scene. or at least you try to.

“fushiguro, aye?” you hear toji’s voice right behind you, and when you turn around to face him, he’s already got you caged in his arms. you gasp and kick your legs, hitting him in the shin. the man groans at the contact and loosens his grip a little. you take the opportunity again, jumping onto his back, clinging onto him with your legs around his waist. you encircle your arm around his neck and catch him off guard with a surprise headlock.

“hehe, got you now,” you grin smugly. toji’s not giving his best, you know that, because you’d be on the floor if he did. he’s allowing you to have fun and he’s indulging you, which you more than so appreciate. “what? cat got your tongue, big boy?” you continue challenging him, proud of your little achievement.

you’re painfully oblivious to toji's struggles. how he's struggling with his inner desires, how his hands ball up into fists at his side. he can feel your body clinging onto him, your legs wrapped so tightly around his waist. it’s adorable that you find so much joy in having the upper hand over a grown man like him.

adorable, and such a huge turn on.

toji can’t believe that he’s getting a boner from just playing with you like this. maybe it’s your body that’s pressed against him so snugly, letting him feel every feminine curve or maybe it's the fact that he knows he can easily pin you to the ground and show you what a real man can do until you're begging for mercy.

your nipples are pressed against his back and it’s so hard to act like he can’t feel that. it’s hard to believe you’re not doing it on purpose, but you truly aren’t.

“careful,” toji comments in a husky voice. the corner of his lip twitches, his eyes hidden behind his black bangs, “y’ might start something you can’t finish.” you figure that it’s just bait to scare you off, so you don’t take it seriously. you tighten the headlock a little, biting toji’s ear and nibbling on it as revenge.

“you’re not scaring me with that,” you chuckle and pinch toji’s cheek with your free hand. the older man turns his head slightly, catching a glimpse of your mischievous grin. oh, how cute.

with a swift, fluid motion, toji reaches up with both hands and grasps your thighs firmly. in a heartbeat, your positions reverse and he pins you to the nearby wall. both of his meaty arms cage you in by pressing against the concrete on either side of your head.

“seems like i’m the one who got ya now, doll,” toji murmurs, his voice low and laced with a hint of lust. he gazes down at you, your faces mere inches apart. you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. he’s itching to claim your mouth so, so bad.

but before he can capture your sweet lips with his, you catch him off guard by pushing your full weight forward, causing toji to lose balance. he tumbles backwards onto the carpet below with you on top of him.

“nope, am not giving up so easily,” you giggle as you try to grab at his wrists. you’re oblivious to toji’s desires, too focused on overpowering the man who could snap you in half. it’s fun when he allows you to take control.

however, your lover is slowly losing his rationality. you’re seated on top of his abs and he can swear he can feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes. it’s the only thing he can focus on at that moment. the only thing he craves.

“fuck, c’mere,” toji growls and rolls you over so you’re pinned beneath him on the floor. he can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips when your laughter echoes throughout the living room. even through his lustful haze, he finds your joy thoroughly endearing.

you manage to find another opening and roll over again so you’re on top of him instead. the cycle continues for a few more seconds, your bodies lost in a tangled mess of limbs. you exchange gasps, grunts and giggles while you’re ‘fighting’ for dominance.

when you bite on toji’s shoulder as a way to catch him off guard once more, he hisses. not in an annoyed or pained way— no. he’s so turned on that you biting him sends a jolt of pleasure right down to his aching cock. so turned on that he may accidentally have developed a new kink in that same second.

either way, that little action was his last straw.

toji effortlessly lifts you up on the couch, your body bouncing a bit on the plush cushions as he turns you around on your stomach. one arm hooks around your neck, his bicep pressing against your throat. not enough to hinder your airway, but enough to send shivers down your spine.

“told ya to b’ careful,” toji grunts, his breath against your sensitive skin from behind, “y’ should start listening to me more.” his tongue flicks out and licks a stripe up your ear. his crotch is pressed right against your ass and only then do you notice his raging hard-on.

your eyes widen, cheek smushed against his muscular arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place beneath his big body. “oh, fuck, toji,” you let out a shuddering breath. you’re completely engulfed by his large frame—disappearing out of sight. just how he likes it.

“yeah? feel that?” toji grins as he squeezes his bicep around your delicate throat some more. you gasp and whine, turned on by him overpowering you, as much as you had been enjoying the opposite just seconds ago. he mocks your earlier words with a grunt, “think i have’ta remind my lil’ brat exactly what this ‘big boy’ can do to ya.”

and the older man wastes no time to do exactly that.

your shorts and panties are tossed carelessly on the carpet, your cheek smushed against the cushions that you’re desperately gripping. your face is contorted with pleasure, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over and your swollen lips parted to take shallow breaths.

you can feel the ache in your lower back. the arch of your spine is nearly unnatural as your ass is pushed so high up, bouncing back to meet the mean backshots your man is giving you.

“ah, ngh! t—toooji,” you mewl loudly, droplets of saliva trickling down from the corner of your mouth. you can’t deny that this entire situation has you soaked.

the switch toji went through, from being playful and letting you do what you want to reminding you who’s boss at the end of the day— it’s perfect and feels way too good. the cherry on top is the familiar scent of his body, the sweat mixed with his cologne.

it adds to the pleasure, makes you dizzy in a good way.

toji grips your waist, his manly hands trailing down to your hips every now and then for the extra leverage. his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he pounds into you mercislessly, fucking into you like you’re his personal cocksleeve. “ain’t gonna try that again, are ya?”

“dumb lil’ slut,” your harsh lover grumbles under his breath, hand smacking the fat of your ass. toji loves seeing it ripple underneath him, even more so when his hips smack against your rear with strength that leaves your flesh stinging, “bet ya love it when i remind you who owns this cunt.”

toji groans as he slides his thick cock in and out of your tight cunt. you’re gripping him like you never want to let go, like you want to milk him of every drop of the cum stored in his balls.

the sight that he’s blessed with from his point of view can make him bust a load right then and there. you’re presenting your ass to him shamelessly, looking back over your shoulder with lust-blown eyes.

and don’t get him started on the outline of his dick distending your tummy, the one he can feel whenever he reaches a hand around to press against your lower abdomen and circle your clit. too fucking lewd.

“fuck, yeahhhh. take that fat fuckin’ dick, baby,” toji throws his head back as he pushes your body even further into the couch. you swear he’s folding you in half, “let me show ya what a real man in charge can do— how a real man fucks his woman.”

toji’s cock is ruining you, reshaping your insides to fit his massive size and you don’t mind it one bit. in fact, you love it. love the feel of him, the stretch and burn of his thick cock splitting you open.

“yes, mmh, yes! fuck me!” you keen, sobbing from the pleasure. your hand reaches back to scratch at toji’s arm, trying to hold onto him, to find him even in the midst of it all. the view of your desperation and your pleas makes him lose it.

the dark-haired man scoffs, “oh, i’ll fuck ya, all right. . .”

with a low growl, toji plants one foot on the floor next to you, his other leg still bent at the knee on the sofa you’re laying at. the muscles in his arms ripple as he lifts your hips even higher up to be able to meet his thrusts.

“fuuuuuck! right there!” you wail, your head trashing back and forth on the damp sofa. from this new angle, he can drive his fat dick into you even deeper, engorged tip hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see white.

toji revels in the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your sweet moans. you seem so much smaller than him in this new position, your body helplessly giving in, allowing him to put you in whatever position he wants. it boosts his ego and makes his cock pulse inside of you.

he loves seeing the tears in your eyes as it nearly gets too much for you to handle. it motivates him to fuck you harder until you’re full on bawling, which he can easily get off on. making you cry in pure bliss is all he wants to achieve.

your pussy is tight as it clenches around his cock like a vice. toji’s hand slithers around to circle your clit, making your legs spasm and hips thrust back sloppily. “shitttt, y’r sweet lil’ cunt was made just for this—” he pants as his thumb presses against the nub, “to take my cock.”

all you can do is dumbly nod at whatever your partner says. “mmhm, ah yeah, made for you,” your small whines are music to his ears. the palms of your hands feel clammy as you hold onto anything you can grasp.

everything around you is a blur as the only thing you can focus on is the way his heavy cock fills you so well.

toji can feel your juices trickling down his heavy sack, soaking his thighs and yours, as well as the couch. it will leave stains, but he doesn’t care and neither do you.

“look at ya,” he huffs and slaps your clit once, callused fingers dragging along your puffy lips that are parted obscenely wide for his cock. toji brings his wet finger to his mouth to lick it clean. he hums satisfactorily at the taste, “pussy’s droolin’ aaaall over my dick. nasty girl.”

your pussy starts fluttering around his thick length as it impales you over and over. it’s a telltale sign of your orgasm, one toji has come to recognise quite easily.

“yeah? gonna make an even bigger mess on my cock?” he grins before pressing his chest against your sweaty back, blanketing your small body. the extra weight added to the ecstasy only makes you scream louder for him.

“yes, yes, yes! gonna cum!” you cry out, toes curling and eyes rolling back as you try to prolong your pleasure. even if it’s only for a second.

toji curses under his breath as his hips move faster to drive you over the edge. he can’t wait to feel your cunt get even tighter, to make it feel like you’re about to snap his dick off. he loves the pain mixed with the pleasure of your tightness.

“do it. cream all over me, c’mon, little girl. y’ can do it,” toji coaxes, delivering small smacks to your clit, causing your hips to jolt back with each slap. you can’t do it anymore— can’t hold on any longer.

you scream as you cum, your pussy spasming wildly around toji’s pulsing cock. that sensation alone has the older man gasping for air, nails digging into the flesh of your ass. no matter how many times he fucks you, the moment you cum, he automatically follows.

the way you squeeze his dick and hold onto it like you don’t want to let go is simply too much.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. g’nna make me bust a fat fuckin’ nut inside of you,” toji groans, his rhythm growing sloppy yet his thrusts are still deliciously hard, “gonna pump this pussy full of my load. breed ‘er nice and deep. shitt— take it!”

a strangled moan leaves his lips as he grinds his hips against your ass while his cock jolts inside of you. he pumps jet after jet of hot cum directly into your womb, tip rubbing against the deepest spot he can reach.

“eaaaasy, yeah, just like that. let it soak into ya,” toji hisses as his hips jerk erratically, “good girl. takin’ all of it so well.” it seems to go on forever as spurts of semen flood your insides for a good few seconds.

once your lover fully empties his balls inside of you, he feels himself grow weak. his thighs and arms tremble a bit from overexertion.

you collapse together in a sweaty heap, toji’s softening dick still buried deep inside of you. the only thing filling the room now is your heavy breathing as you slowly regain your composure. it’s quite a comfortable silence.

after a while, toji shifts. he pulls out with a wet squelch and watches with half-lidded eyes as thick, pearly globs of cum trickle down your slit. he grins lazily at the sight before turning you around.

you’re completely fucked out, it seems. your chest is heaving and your eyes are barely open. the trails of tears and drool on your face tells the man enough. toji wipes a stray strand of hair from your face with a haughty chuckle, “damn, keheh, fucked y’ real good. you okay though?”

you weakly nod in response before wrapping your arms around him. your hands rest on his broad back, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

toji hums and hugs you back, being careful not to squish you under his weight. he presses chaste kisses to your temple as he enjoys your frame molding perfectly against the hard muscles of his body.

“y’ did so well for me, little girl,” he comments gruffly, voice deep and a bit hoarse. you smile at the praise and murmur a small ‘thanks’. nothing is better than being able to feel safe with your lover after an intense session like that.

you pull back a bit and look up at toji with a little, playful grin. “guess i need to challenge you more often. felt too good, babe.”

toji lets out a small scoff and shakes his head. a ghost of a smirk appears on his lips as he slightly pinches your side. he holds you against his chest and buries his nose into your hair, sighing as he finally relaxes his weary body.

“y’ can try. might break ya for real next time, though.”

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[nezuscribe]

you’re gojo satoru’s best friend. you’ve known him since you were four and every year you continue to know him is just another year you fall more and more in love with him.

he makes you laugh so hard that you pee a little. he always helps you with chem and he’s so smart that you don’t feel bad using him for his brain. he always buys you stuff, even though you never ask him to, and he cares for you, deeply cares.

you two pinky promised in kindergarten that you’d be best friends forever. and you’ve held onto that moment.

the only problem? he’s madly in love with your sister.

gojo has loved your sister since the moment he met her. she’s so sweet, caring, smart, and funny. she’s everything you’re not and more.

and they’ve been dating since they were teens. something you just learned to get used to and push him a little bit further away out of respect for your sister.

and he notices your distance after a while. he talks to you about it but you feign innocence, pretending like nothing was wrong.

so gojo just shrugs it off. after a couple of years, when you guys are a little older than before, you and gojo are still each others friends, just not the way you used to be.

so why is it that for family dinner one night, when he’s with your sister and your family, you bring home a guy?

and why does he feel his fists clench, his stare icy whenever he sees the guy kissing your cheek, holding your hand above the table? why does gojo want to beat him bloody when he leans in and makes you laugh?

and you look up briefly to look at gojo, smiling to see if he heard the joke and your face falls for a second in confusion at the hard glare he’s throwing your way.

the only thing that brings gojo back to reality is when his girlfriend, your sister, pokes his thigh to ask him what’s wrong.

he swallows thickly and says it’s nothing.

but it must be something because gojo always thought he was a confident person. he’s never felt annoyed when a guy hit on his girl or checked her out, just shamelessly made out with her to make him uncomfortable.

but gojo feels his eye twitch.

for the first time in his life he feels jealously.

burning, fiery, angry jealousy. and the worst part? he’s not even sure it’s going to be the last.

[simonbrain]

you rarely call price by his first name. it's usually just a very cheery cap! or a stoic price when you need to remind him of the objective, but whenever you do call him john—you tried jonathan once as a joke, and the piercing stare he gave you made that the first and last time—it's warm, earnest. you almost seem shy uttering it, judging by the softness of your voice, but he calms your nerves with a fond look and an affectionate squeeze on the back of your neck.

getting the privilege of calling soap by his first name, let alone johnny, was an accomplishment in itself. you noticed how ghost was the only one who called him johnny, and so you took that as a sign to never refer to him as anything other than his ridiculous callsign and occasionally an incredulous bloody hell, mactavish, whenever he says something outrageous.

until you did slip up one night, but soap didn't seem to mind too much. he quite liked how his first name sounded in your voice, and when he offered you to call him johnny instead, which you mumbled under your breath to test it out, his surprised expression morphed into a genuine smile, one so pretty a rush of energy zipped through you. now, he won't let you call him anything except johnny—pretty much threatens you.

gaz was the first one on the team who allowed you to call him by his first name. hearing you mumble a tired morning, kyle or a warning but unserious kylie... when he's being a little shit makes his day a little brighter. you'd think the two of you were good mates with many years of friendship under your belts with the way you mock and poke at each other—especially when he lets you get away with calling him the most ridiculous pet names, like pookie, of all things.

while you seem to maintain good relations with your team, close ones even, there's just one person who stumps you. one big, enigmatic bastard who gives you creepy looks and speaks in nothing but cryptic language.

it honestly feels like your lieutenant dislikes you; no wonder you're still stuck with calling him by his callsign.

(poor ghost has been waiting for weeks for those plush lips of yours to utter his name. not ghost, not lieutenant or sir, but simon.

it's getting painful how oblivious you are to his attempts at giving you the green light to use his first name; the hard stare he gives you after hearing yet another formal greeting fall from your lips only seems to make you straighten up even more, and the annoyance radiating off of him every time you call him ghost scares you further away from him.

you're so formal with him, and he doesn't know what else to do—he just wants to be called a cute stupid nickname, too.)

[propheticpanickingnerd]

Alright i wanna add to this

Eventually, Jason does get bothered of standing in the sidelines. Watching them was bittersweet at first, but then they stopped aging. Or at least keeping in shape, unnaturally.

He thinks about snooping around, finding out why they – mostly Bruce – aren't getting worst at their job. He doesn't, though. Too risky, he knows he could do a good job at it, but not good enough to evade all of his family.

So he decided, to just, not hide. He would sometimes go out at day, after his first death there was no public persona to uphold. The only people that would notice him would be the ones he wanted to notice him. He warned his people in the slums that he would be gone, to, if they ever saw him again, not recognise him. So he had a foolproof plan.

At least he thought it was foolproof.

He had planned to go out on the streets, wearing a simple cap to hide his very identifiable colored hair, for less than an hour to scope out his surroundings. In the morning, of course, he hadn't seen anyone hopping rooftops yet so he was fine. (Even though he earned to get discovered, to find someone that knew him.)

Instead of what he had planned, in the first 5 minutes of his stroll, he saw Tim. Right across the street, there he was, talking to someone on the phone, walking somewhere with intent, not like Jason was. He made sure he wasn't staring for too long, just a glance, continuing walking.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, he felt eyes in the back of his skull. Staring at him, violently. Since he was a normal civilian and definitely not a trained vigilante, he continued walking in a normal pace, as a normal person would.

He turned a corner, feeling the stare eventually fade, and immediately went back to his hideout. Not directly, he knew he wasn't being followed but it was better to be sure and do a few wrong turns.

Jason didn't do it again for the next months. And was right to do so, since the bats had upped their appearances, maybe not because of him, but they were around more often and he did go the extra mile at faking his death.

He could wait a few decades. (He didn't)

Just an idea:

As a result of the lazarus pit jason is now immortal he doesn't ageand he cant die, realizing this he fakes his own death. Would love to hear your take on this idea

Ah alright so I can’t go full sad because I’m very much incapable of writing angst where one person has to watch all their loved ones age and die, but I can do an element where… none of them age. But Jason thinks he’s the only one thanks to the pit (his immortality still works different).

So… he fakes his death.

And it’s good. He goes the whole nine yards. Fake body, DNA samples, footage of himself frantically trying to escape yet another warehouse rigged to blow, the panicked call to the rest of the Bats to “Please, please, not again please, get me out of— please, i don’t want to burn again-“ that has everyone in a mad scramble trying to save him him…

But they arrive “too late”. Again. (Jason’s last hurrah at Bruce for the shit he pulled since his return).

And then Jason Todd is… dead.

He watches them from the shadows. Sometimes from continents away (but he can’t escape Gotham. Something pulls him back time and time again, no less than once a year.)

And at first.. it hurts. It hurts watching his family grieve him. But it’s better this way. He can’t stay and watch them age out and die. It would destroy him. But this way— this way he can focus solely on keeping them alive. To give them the longest life possible in their line of work. No more dead Robins. (No dead Batman.)

It hurts, but he makes it work. Watches years pass in which Tim grows up first. Then Damian. And then… it just stops?

After a decade Bruce still only has that faint shimmer of silver to his hair, movements neither slowing nor becoming sloppy with age.

Dick still survives on an unholy cocktail of sugar topped with more sugar, in peak physical condition despite it all.

And finally— finally Jason catches on that something might not be quite right here.

(And they still mourn him. Acutely aware of the loss of one of their own. Of the empty space at the dinner table. Of the silence down the comm line they still keep open religiously. Just in case. Just in case….)

[ozzgin]

It’d be funny to have a ghost/spirit/monster partner that you could just call whenever when you look into a mirror and chant their name 3 times in the dark ☺️

They could also leave cute messages in the mirror for you too 🩸

-👘

Haunted house with a monsterfucker feels like a spooky romcom. content: gender neutral reader

“Oh-!” you gasp quietly, staring at the bloodied mirror.

In thick, crimson letters, the dripping warning says 'You belong to me'.

“Stop it! You’re such a romantic,” you finally conclude, twirling your hair and blushing innocently.

It was love at first haunting.

When you’d initially heard the creaks and the heavy footsteps, you assumed someone broke in. You took your bat and tiptoed down the dark hallway, heart slamming against your chest, terrified.

Then it occurred to you: the house was haunted. You breathed a sigh of relief and tilted the bat against the wall once more.

The romance started with subtle flirting. One evening you found deep scratches on your bedroom door, and giggled at the implications; someone must've been eager to get in. The entity grew bolder, cheekier. You'd often awaken from your slumber to a sudden, invisible weight dropping into your mattress, or you'd find foreign markings on your thighs and back.

While you appreciated the relentless courting, you couldn't help but want more. Thus, you decided to take matters into your own hands, standing before a mirror and chanting the name - which had been conveniently carved into your walls the night before - demanding for the creature to show itself. You don't remember much from the following sequences, just that you required a cushion to sit for weeks.

"You know, there's other ways to show it," you suggest with a grin, heading for the bed.

Without delay, the door slams loudly, and the floor begins to creak menacingly. You're abruptly pushed ahead, stumbling face-first into the pillows. Above you, the headboard becomes stained with a clawed handprint, slowly smudging itself towards you.

It seems you won't be going out tonight, after all.

[allpiesforourown]

I've talked about it before but we need more beast keeping peak shen yuan au where he is as terrifying as he is sweet.

I want him to take a bunch of juniors on a night hunt and see a little fluffy animal and go "listen up, that's an invasive species! Whenever we see these we have to do this-" and then he traumatizes them by reducing it to a bloody mess.

He sees a hungry cub whining helplessly and goes oh poor thing I'll find you some food... then he returns covered in gore and drops dripping raw meat in front of it. He looks at his fellow disciples and says "what? It's carnivorous."

Older disciples LOVE watching new students follow shen yuan around like lovestruck ducklings when they first join the peak... then they go on a mission together and come back shaking going "what the fuck was that." It's a rite of passage

[lilislegacy]

i think it’s a pretty common headcanon that whenever there is a spider, annabeth freaks the fuck out. which is super weird to most people, because she’s like… the bravest person ever. even if you don’t know she’s a demigod, she’s just a badass. but if there’s a spider, she’s screaming bloody murder and jumping up on tables and counters. and of course, percy always comes and kills it for her. no matter what he’s doing or where he is.

but i think what would be even weirder for people (who don’t know her extremely well) is how seriously percy takes it. i feel like girls being scared of spiders and having their male partners come kill it is such a basic ‘weak white girl’ stereotype. and it usually is funny, even to the one who’s scared. so when annabeth does this and starts screaming for percy, people would start laughing. naturally, right? haha it’s so funny that annabeth chase is so scared of bugs. and after percy runs in and takes care of it, they would expect him to be laughing too and poke fun at her.

except it’s the exact opposite. there’s nothing funny about his expression. his jaw is hard-set and his sea green eyes are full of nothing but concern. he does a thorough examination of the surrounding area, makes absolutely sure there aren’t others and gets rid of any webs, and then goes straight to her. and his first question, every single time, is “you okay?” nothing but concern and support. and if the legendary fearless annabeth chase needs her boyfriend/husband to carry her across the room, because she doesn’t want to step on the rug now, you know dam well he’s gonna carry her across the room without a second thought. and you’d better not laugh at her, or else percy’s gonna give you the most scolding glare you’ve ever received, and it’s gonna make your arm/neck hairs stick straight up and your blood turn to ice.

and it would take people off guard every single time. because he’s not laughing at her. he takes her fear completely seriously. and it’s because he knows about her past. he’s seen her face her worst horrors. he knows what happened with arachne.

he knows exactly why she’s so scared of spiders, and to him, there’s nothing funny about it.