#source: jag

[gothamundernightlight]

Incorrect Batfam Quotes

Dick: B, you need a sense of humor, otherwise people are gonna think you’re a lawyer!

Harvey: Hey, I take offense to that!

Dick: You take offense to half the things I say!

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Teems perverted to wig an aewodynamic bird wike tis to fwy wike an anvil.

Tweety

[incorrectjag]

Harm and Mac: It wasn’t our fault!

Admiral Chegwidden: Then whose fault was it?

Harm and Mac:

Harm and Mac: *quietly* Ours, Sir.                                     

[ladymiraclewings]

Luka Couffaine: What is dad doing? Anarka Couffaine: Wasting time. Jagged Stone: *yelling from the next room* I’m watching the slingball championship! Anarka Couffaine: That’s what I said.

[iridescent-glitch]

Förlåt mellotumblr. Jag vet inte vem det här är. Kan någon snälla berätta?

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Om inte youtube skulle copyrighta skiten ur det så skulle jag älska att göra ur kontext compilations av Astrid Lindgren filmer och tv-serier

[shiroselia]

Jävla snyggt att vi betalar skatt för att SVT ska sitta o ljuga

[directorclaytonwebb]

Headcanon: Clayton Webb has gone undercover as a woman, and all the JAG people were fooled. Even Mac. And he reminds them every chance he gets.

[milkymiks]

Prev

Danny can’t find Jason, he’s too young of a ghost, powerful, but inexperienced. He knew that Jason is from another universe, but he can’t access that Universe, having been relying on the fenton portal for going in and out of the ghost zone. Sam and Tucker can only do so much but they did what they can and Danny is grateful for their efforts.

Years went by, longer than how long Jason had been with them, They’re in 2nd year college now and Jazz is graduating. Danny had been crowned the King of Infinite Realms despite his futile attempts at prolonging it, ‘A year after your legal maturity day is the perfect time’ As Clockwork had said. Still no sign of Jason.

It happened a year later.

Danny, drowning in bureaucratic shit that the ancients had decided to set aside despite their own ability to solve those problems themselves only to dump them in an inexperienced newly unwillingly crowned King. Danny is also in his third year of college that means his human identity is also drowning in fucking thesis papers, He’s getting nightmares just by looking at parchment and office papers.

Jason would probably laugh at him.

Jason, who has been missing for more than five years…

God Danny misses Jason, He misses sitting at the roof of a random house with him Stargazing. He misses Jason’s excited babble whenever he discusses some difference with the classic literature in this world to his’. The feeling of his core synchronizing with his…

Was he even real? No, Sam and Tucker remembers him so he wasn’t some hallucination.

Danny glances down on the paper before him, rereading the thing three times before it registered in his mind and promptly throws the parchment away from him, and because it’s paper, it only flapped pathetically on the air before smacking him in the face. He sighed.

___

“Fuck we were too late! they’re almost complete with the chanting!” Constantine curses, sees the runes etched on the floor and pales.

“What exactly are we dealing with here?” Batman grunts, They’re a good feet away from the cloaked figures. The warehouse is dark, the only light source coming from the green flamed candles surrounding the runes.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but the sudden shift in the atmosphere earlier was heavy, I thought they were summoning demons, That we can deal with. This is so much worse”

“Get to the point” Batman turned to the other’s “apprehend the cloaked figures, especially the one in the middle, we need to know their intentions” Dick nodded and saluted “Roger that” He and the other bat’s got to work. Zatanna started to seal the area around the runes to keep whatever was about to be summoned inside.

“They’re summoning the High King of the Infinite Realms, The infinite realms is the border between all universes and where everyone that dies, ends up to. I don’t know how they managed to conjure all the materials needed to but they’re summoning a GOD!” Constantine is panicking “And I don’t even want to touch the shit that’s happening inside there with a ten foot pole but I do know the king is a tyrant!”

“Hah! It’s too late! This is as fated from the scriptures, Pariah Dark will free us and govern the world with his greatness!” The deranged leader said, laughing in his binds as Red Robin easily kept him down. In front of them the runes lit up with a bright green, the ground shook as the cloaked leader’s deranged laughter increased.

A large black whispy arm shot out from the ground in the middle of the summoning circle, followed by a head, A flaming crown on top, then a body, its jagged rib cage outside framing his torso. everything about it looked off, apparently even for the cult leader that summoned it.

“Wha-?! You’re not Pariah Dark!” He screamed and thrashed in Red Robin's hold, who held him down with a foot on his back.

Its white eerie eyes darted down to him, It seemed to take full offense as it bent down and hisses “Do I look like Pariah Dark?” Its voice is like fork grating on a chalkboard, every mortal in the room winced, especially Red Robin who is closer in proximity.

The King straightened up and swept its cold eyes across the room “Why am I called here?” It sounded annoyed, like they’re just ants wasting its time, which in retrospect they were.

“I swear I changed the summoning requirements…” It muttered, which was heard by everyone. A hint of humanity, they could use this. It’s obviously a new King but they have to thread carefully.

Constantine stepped forward and bowed “High King of the infinite realms, we deeply apologize on behalf of these cult for wasting your time. We want nothing of the sort from you and we only wish to be on your good side”

It looked and stared at Constantine for a good moment before it lunged with rage, only stopped by the summoning circle and Zatanna’s barrier “YOU!!!!”

Constantine stumbled a step back in shock at the absolute hatred brimming the King's eyes.

“You’re the major cause of my headache’s! Who the fuck sells their soul to different entity’s when you only got one?! You whore! I have a special cabinet just full of your paperwork shit! I ought to just kill you and slice your core into ten so I’ll have one less ton of paperwork to deal with!”

It smashes its fist on the barrier and a resounding ‘crack’ echoed across the warehouse.

Constantine can feel Batman’s glare on the back of his head, Zatanna’s strengthening the barrier but the King doesn’t seem to care.

The other bats have gathered the cultist to one side of the room far away from the summoning circle and they stood waiting for orders dealing with their new problem.

Danny sighed, he wanted to finish up until section J but he still has to deal with this. He looked consideringly at the flimsy barrier keeping him, the only reason he stayed was so he wouldn’t scare the superhero team gathered around already securing the cult that was the cause of this shit. Also this is a new universe, not unheard of as he knew a lot of ghosts from this universe and other variants, Just that he hasn’t had the time to visit as many universes as he would’ve liked.

Ever since taking the crown his powers grew exponentially and he gained the ability to cross other universes as he liked. It’s just that the few Universes he managed to visit didn’t have His Jason in it. And there are infinite universes, it’s like finding a microscopic needle in a pit of hay.

He shifted from his eldritch form to something more fitted for royalty. It wouldn’t hurt to check this universe out. The cult summoning him had been knowledgeable but not enough, They only bound their souls to him as an offering so he isn’t required to grant whatever wishes they would have liked.

Danny flew out of the summoning circle and the barrier, He could make acquaintances with the people here. The guy in black and blue spandex looks friendly.

Batman and the other’s watched as the King turned into a more human form and tore through Zatanna’s barrier with no problem, floating down and seemed to say something before he froze, eye’s widening, and then he shot off.

“Nightwing, Robin, I trust you two to finish this up and hand them over to the GCPD. The rest of you let’s go, we can’t trust an unknown entity to roam free”

“It’s headed towards the docks” Zatanna informed them, already ahead in locating their wayward King.

Batman frowned, The docks, It’s where Red Hood currently is, he turned down the emergency call claiming he already had other plans. He caught wind of another unauthorized drug trade starting to circulate when the alley kids helpfully informed him of unfamiliar men trying to sell them drugs and a few attempts of kidnapping. Everyone knew each other in crime alley and one of the main rules Red Hood has is to not involve kids.

Next

[squipa]

got your heart in a headlock

aka soft secrets and domestic moments with jason todd

———

jason grew up in fire. all that he is and all he that knows is cigarette smoke and uncaged adrenaline. he never used to pretend to be something different, he knew what he was and he lived with that burden like he did any other. in the past, he never lied to himself, or let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be something else.

something good.

enter you, you who is good and whole and endlessly kind. you with lips full of sugar, arms full of warmth, and eyes full of love. you, who was made with starlight and wonder, who never looked at him like he was a bad dog, like you were capable of being bit. you, who is light and closeness and understanding. who loves him so deeply in a way he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

so when he comes home from his world of ash and blood, he becomes someone who wears your vanilla shampoo, just because he likes to smell like you. he becomes someone who has the time to watch cheesy romcoms and lengthy youtube videos, just because he gets to hold you in his arms. he becomes someone who sleeps in a bed with eight pillows and dozens of stuffed animals, because he can listen to your soft snores all night long. in your home (which you insist is his too), he is not made of jagged, broken edges, he is not unloveable, he is not a violent dog.

he starts to believe that your love could make him something beyond bloody knuckles and restless nights.

he’s your jason, and he thinks that’s all he wants to be. even if he’s not good at showing you how much he cares. even if he has trouble accepting that your kindness and goodness don’t come with ulterior motives or strings attached. even if he can’t be the guy he thinks you deserve, he still loves being your jason. it’s his duty more than his role, he lives to see you smile, to hold you in his arms on rough nights, to kiss you senseless. because you’ve given him a strange sort of hope that makes him believe he can be more than he is.

normally, you’re not able to sneak out of bed without waking him up. vigilantes senses and whatnot make him an infuriatingly light sleeper, but today was one of those rare mornings you managed to slip from his iron grasp and get up to pee without disturbing your sleeping beauty.

you take a second to watch him, smiling softly as his chest falls rhythmically while he breathes. you don’t often get to see him so peaceful, where his body isn’t tense with the weight of the world, his eyes don’t have that worried glare. you like that, at least in his moments of unconsciousness, he doesn’t feel so unfathomably stressed when he’s with you.

you gently close the bedroom door, making sure you’re quiet enough to not let your boyfriend continue to rest. once you hear the satisfying click of the door, you move to the kitchen, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

you turn on some soft music, ensuring that the volume is low enough as not to disturb jason’s sleep, as you work, pulling the ingredients from your pantry, preheating the oven. you crack three eggs into a small bowl, humming to yourself as you go through the motions. you don’t notice jason until he slips his arms around your waist, pulling a yelp from your throat.

he breathes you in, carefully smushing his nose into your hair. he’s so warm you think, you want to live a life in those arms, big and protective and a wonderful source of heat. “tell me i didn’t wake you up.” you wince, leaning back into his chest, looking up at him. he shakes his head, yawning.

“you didn’t, ma.” he says, sleep plaguing is voice. his obvious exhaustion not stopping him from smiling down at you. “what’re’ya making?” a twinge of an accent bleeds into his voice, the jersey he doesn’t care to hide so early in the morning, a part of him you revel in getting to hear.

you smile back, looking back down and continuing your work with the ingredients in front of you. “i’m baking a pie for mrs. lewitski downstairs.” you explain. “her cat just died.” you say, a small pout pushing at your lips.

jason shakes his head, frowning softly. “poor lady. can i help?” he asks, his voice twinging with empathy. he wonders if, before he met you, he would care about such a thing. if he would be the sort of person to sympathize with something as small as a cat funeral without your guiding hand.

you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would.

you nod, pointing at a cutting board and a pile of granny smiths. “cut the apples.”

he nods, pressing a kiss against the tippy-top of your head before he pulls away, a goodbye that feels like torture. “yes ma’am.” he says, carefully taking a knife out of the knife block before heading over to his station.

neither of you talk, lost in the comfort of each other’s company. jason peels and cuts the apples with expert precision, you form the dough for the crust. it’s quiet little moments like these that make up a life together.

“jay?” you ask, after giving up on rolling out the particularly tough dough. “could you give me a hand?”

he looks up from the apples, of which he’s already almost finished (damn those vigilante skills), and gives you a nod. he sets down the knife, coming up behind you, pressing himself against your back.

“of course, baby.” he whispers into your ear, his teeth lightly sinking into your cartilage, just enough to make you shiver. he gently places his arms over yours, holding his calloused hands atop yours. he moves the rolling pin slowly back and forth, putting his strength into the dough.

he pushes dough slowly, his breath hot against your neck. “like this?” he asks, once the dough gets thin enough. again, you shiver, his voice sending little waves through your spine.

“little thinner.” you say, leaning back into him.

“little thinner.” he hums, his voice a low mumble in your ear.

jason todd grew up in fire, he was born in it. but that fire makes him emit a pleasant warmth that you can’t live without. it makes his touch burn against your skin, sending electric shots through your body. it makes him the only person you’ve ever wanted to come home too, the only person you’ve ever been capable of loving, the only person you could ever love. his warmth was made for you, a cocoon of his fire you can only pray surrounds you for as long as you live.

he continues rolling, until he gets the crust rolled just right. truthfully, you extended the moment a little more than necessary, lightly instructing just a bit more, oh wait, can you make it thicker? to allow yourself to bask in the fire a second longer. you can feel a knowing smile pressing into your head, noting how he does move ever-so-slightly slower in service to you.

once he’s done, he pulls away, his hand trailing against your waist, lingering in the small of your back for a second longer than he likely should. he goes back to chopping the apples, humming with a small smile on his face. you too continue your task, making a sugar mixture to pour over the cubed granny smiths.

eventually, you both finish, and he helps you pour the apple-brown-sugar mixture into the dough-lined pie tins he helped you make. his hands are surprisingly gentle with the pasty. you didn’t realize that he was scared of ruining something as delicate and beautiful as something your hands were benevolent enough to create. but he would do whatever you asked, even if he was unsure why you would want his help. he doesn’t create, he destroys.

“can you press a fork against the edges, like this?” you ask, demonstrating how he could press both ends of the pies together. he simply nods, his fingers brushing against yours as he carefully took the silver from your hands. “i’ll check the oven.”

you pull back and open the oven, sticking your hand into the scorching air to test its temperature, earning a small frown from jason. you quickly close the door and turn back to him, moving across the kitchen. your hands slide around his waist, meeting just below his belly button. you lean up, pressing your head into the back of his neck, planting a small kiss against his spine.

“you’re good at that.” you say, watching as he works.

“yeah?” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. he doesn’t quite believe he’s doing less harm than good, but he likes the reward he’s getting for it.

“i should make you my official pie-presser.” you respond, placing another kiss against his neck.

“i’d be honored.”

“you should be.”

“you’re making it a bit hard for me to focus, ma.” he says, shivering as you kiss him again and again, making sure to breath him in.

you smile against his skin. “i only need you to focus until we put these in the oven.” you mumble seductively, breathing hot air into his ear.

he pauses, stiff and still for an entire moment, before his shoulders drop and he returns to work like a man possessed. you squeeze yourself into him, breathing in his scent- a mix of irish spring and leather.

he only moves to put the pies in the oven, giving your arm a squeeze before he pulls away. “how long?” he asks, his fingers brushing over the keypad on the oven timer.

“twenty-five minutes.” you say, leaning back against the countertop. he presses the buttons carefully, before making his way back to you.

he smiles, not just with his mouth, but with those piercing blue eyes you can’t seem to tear yourself away from. his hair, messy from sleep, falls a bit in his face and, well, it’s your job to push it back. once he gets close enough to dip his head down, your hands are all over him, one against his forehead, smoothing his hair, and the other trailing down his arm.

“you’re my favorite helper.” you say, as he leans closer, a grin forming from the smile that had such a hold on his lips.

without warning, his hands slip on the bottoms of your thighs, and he hoists you up on the counter, eliciting a yelp from you.

“jay!” you exclaim, giggling. you spread your legs just enough to make room for him, letting him lean in, placing your arms against his shoulders. he’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but looking up at you with stars in his eyes.

“you didn’t think all that help was for free, did you?” he says, moving closer, his lips a breath away from yours. you playfully roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile on your face, or the red that dusts your cheeks.

“and what exactly do i owe you?” you ask, raising a brow.

he leans in closer, his lips taking yours. for a moment, all you are is jason, all you can and ever want to be is a person that he loves. his lips crash against yours, in a perfectly soft rhythm that you two have learned to follow with each other. passion isn’t a word intense enough to describe a kiss like this, especially when compared to the loveless kisses you’ve given your past partners.

this is love.

neither of you want to pull away, but you do. something so good means eventually you’ll have to come up for air.

“y’know, we’ve got—“ jason pulls his head back, checking the oven timer. “—twenty minutes and fifty three seconds before you have to take out the pies.” he points out, his eyes darting back to yours with a mischievous sort of grin. “why not make the most of them.”

you giggle a little bit, like he’s not your jason and you haven’t been in love with him all this time. it’s ridiculous your boyfriend of a year has such an effect on you still, but here you are, a blushing mess of a woman, infatuated with the man in front of you.

“and how would you suppose we do that?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

his grin spreads across his face, and before you can think to do more than flash your dopey smile, he pulls his hands under your ass and picks you up, holding you against him.

you yelp again, giggling as he pulls you closer. your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms meet at his middle back. he smiles up at you, pressing a chaste kiss against your smile, before moving you towards the bedroom, sucking a soft kiss against your neck.

the secret you keep from jason, only because you know he wouldn’t believe you if you dared confess it, is that he is inherently good. yes, he was forged in fire, tossed around by a universe with little care for his happiness or his safety. you’re not sure how he hasn’t realized that that’s what makes him a good man, a man who cares about cat funerals and revels in making you feel warm and loved. you know that he credits you with his goodness, that you’re the reason he loves and deserves to be love, and if he needs you to be that reason, you’ll do it proudly. but jason is good beyond you, a man with unwavering character. that’s why you love him so.

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Porky: In the m-m-m-meantime, just try to stay out of t-t-trouble. Cicero: I'll do my best, Porky. Porky: Th-th-th-th-that's what I'm afraid of.

[incorrectjag]

The SecNav: What the fuck?

Admiral Chegwidden:

Harm and Mac: You’re going to have to be more specific, Sir. We do a lot of ‘what the fuck’ kind of stuff.

[ladymiraclewings]

Jagged Stone: I’ll have the number 8. Waitress: That’s a party platter. It serves twelve people. Jagged Stone: I know what I’m about.

[b3ach-bunn7]

C U GIRL

Bakugo loves his girlfriend

based off this texpost and @laffythefaffy request!

slight nsfw, fluff, prohero!bakugo

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bakugo didn’t believe in relationships.

Romantic ones, at least. Platonic ones he’d been convinced of, after the relentless nature of his classmates, but Bakugo could safely say that, at the age of twenty five, he had never been in love.

It didn’t depress him. He’d had experiences. He’d kissed and he’d fucked, and it felt good, and still he’d never had a girlfriend. His childhood was a mess of war and pain and death, and so there was no time for it then. And now, his days are filled with patrolling and missions and he doesn’t really have time for it either. Where is he supposed to meet one, anyway? The only time he goes out is when he gets dragged to the annoying 1-A meet-ups at the bar in Nagoya that are always far too loud for his liking. And Bakugo would rather keel over and die before he tried to flirt with someone in front of Denki.

But Bakugo was happy with his life. Content. Enough as a busy hero could be.

And then he met you.

He’d been patrolling that day. Quite possibly the worst part of his job. It’s more for publicity than safety, he thinks. Civilians like seeing a hero walking around and cruising the streets. It makes them feel protected and it makes his agency look good for looking out for the public. All it means for him though, is way too many people asking for interviews and pictures and the waste of a day at work.

And then he’d heard it. A loud crash and screams that echoed down the street and the sudden rush of civilians from the bookshop a small ways away. They scattered like ants and Bakugo pushed through them, breaking into a run.

Something, or someone, had crashed through the front door, glass scattered in sharp jagged pieces on the floor. That seemed to have been the extent of the damage. He ignores the clammer of a crowd behind him and steps inside, eyes scanning the shop for the source of the destruction. And he assumed the poorly dressed man standing in the middle of the place was the cause. It looked like a home-made costume that reminded him of Deku’s first ever costume, and the man wearing it looked just as weak as he had.

Bakugo sighed internally. They get a couple of guys like this every so often. People with too big dreams of fame or villainy or both, and a flashy enough quirk that they think some damage will get their name plastered on the six o’clock news. More often than not, it ends with Bakugo nearly blowing up their face and the next few years in prison.

Balugo kicked a fallen book. The man caught sight of him and stood straighter. It might have been a show of strength but Bakugo saw his hands quiver as he pointed them at the crying civilian next to him.

“Not a step closer, Dynamight! Or I’ll blow her brains out!” He yelled.

Considering the damage to the door and the way he’s wielding his hands like the weapon, Bakugo assumed this was a quirk attack. His eyes darted around to assess the situation. Other than fallen bookcases and the dust of a broken wall, there wasn’t too much damage. The place was pretty small anyway. There were four people in the room, including the villain, and judging by the fact they’re all on their feet he didn’t think they were injured. Even the one being held hostage looks fine, other than the flurry of tears falling down her face. She looks young, and Bakugo scowls.

“Let her go and I won’t have to blow your fucking hands off.” Bakugo demanded.

“No! I-I make the rules here!” It was sad, really. The kid was practically shivering. Definitely not villain material. 

Before Bakugo could do anything, like explode the sad fucker into the nearest juvenile detention centre, there’s a loud thud, and the man crumpled to the floor. Confusion flitted across his face and then he looked up and saw you. 

You, hobbling forward on one ankle, a hard-back dictionary in your hand, breathing heavily. Your clothes were wrinkled and your face flushed, chest heaving as you looked down at the man in front of you. The dictionary dropped to the floor and you cursed.

“Fuck. Did I kill him?” You mumbled, nudging his shoulder with your good foot.

You hadn’t killed him. Just knocked him out, he found after pressing his fingers against the man’s neck. He clicked on a pair of quirk cancelling cuffs and handed him off to the police, who had just arrived. He watched as they started talking to the other victims and he turned his attention to you.

“That was real fucking stupid. Don’t ever get involved in a fight like that.” He snapped.

You pouted. “I got him, though.”

Red eyes flicked down. You were looking worriedly at your ankle, hands holding you up on the counter beside you. He studied your face, the small crease of worry between your eyebrows. You suddenly glanced up at him. You gave him a small smile and he shook his head.

He crouched down, beckoning you with his hand. “Idiot. Show me your ankle.” 

You held your foot up gingerly, and Bakugo pressed his fingers against your bone, touching lighter when you wince slightly. Behind him, he could hear the commotion of paramedics checking on the other civilians, the blare of sirens from outside. Your fingers drum against the counter you're leaning on.

“Don’t think it’s broken. Just fractured.” He said, standing up again.

He saw you squeezing your wrist, stretching it out and wiggling your fingers. He nodded, gesturing at his own wrist.

“You fuck that up too?”

You laughed slightly. “No, I- I think I just hurt it when I smacked him with that book.” You shook it once. “I’ll be fine, though.”

“You got him good though. Nice swing.” 

The little comment surprised even him, and you laughed, out of shock more than anything else, and he allowed a small smile to ghost his own face. 

“Thanks. Your agency need any extra hands?” You teased and he rolled his eyes.

“Not one as dumb as you.” He drawled and you just grinned back.

He watched you glance behind you at the paramedics and back down at your ankle. You winced, pushing yourself up so that you could start the walk towards them, but he waved you off.

“Hold on.”

In one swift motion, his hands came up under your thighs, the other sweeping behind your back, and he lifted you up with ease. You made a sound of surprise in the back of your throat. Your hands wrapped around his neck and your body was warm against his.

“I’ll get you to the paramedics. They’ll fix you up.” He said.

And you were close enough that when you replied, a soft okay, he felt it rumble against his chest, could feel your fingers curl against the small of his neck. He felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach at your proximity. Not one he’s used to when he’s saving civilians.

He held you tighter as he bent over the door frame, making the disappointingly short journey to the bank of the closest open ambulance. A smiling woman came over and listened as Bakugo relayed your injuries, and you watched in keen interest as she used some healing quirk over your ankle.

Bakugo could’ve left. He should’ve left. He isn’t the type to sit and check up on the victims, he’d usually be back carrying on patrol, but. Bakugo lingered. He watched as the paramedic told you to take it easy for the next few days, and you beamed that smile at her he itched for you to aim at him. She wrapped a bandage around your ankle and you thanked her. And once the paramedic left, and your attention was back on him, he could appreciate you a little more. Outside, in the bright summer sun, your eyes shone, your skin glistening in the light as you rolled your ankle around.

“God. It must be nice to have a quirk that can just fix someone up like that.” You hummed. 

“You don’t got a quirk?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Nah. Don’t really need one when you’re running a book store, though.” 

Bakugo crossed his arms over his chest. He hoped you saw the bulge of his biceps that he definitely wasn’t trying to show off. “Right. You be more fucking careful next time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me? You’re the one who needed rescuing, if my dictionary wielding is anything to go by.”

He barked a laugh. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. But don’t worry. I’ll forgive you once you help me fix the store.” 

It was Bakugo’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “And who said I’m fucking doing that?” 

You didn’t bristle at his tone. Just flash those pearly whites up at him. “I’m going to have to send my workers home after that fiasco, so. I’d like an extra pair of hands. And I’d hope one of Japan's top Pro heroes would help a book owner in need.”

He rolled his eyes. “Suck up.”

But he did come back. After his shift was over, he stalked his way over the streets he’d just been patrolling and he helped you organise your shelves once more. It was unprofessional. There was probably some code or some rule in the Hero conduct that stated you definitely were not allowed to meet up with civilians you just saved and flirt with them as you alphabetised stacks of books and lifted heavy shelves.

But he did it anyway.

And then he started appearing at the shop more. It was on his patrol route, after all. And he was looking to start reading more as well. And the door to your office is rickety, and he knew how to fix that, so he had to come by again. 

And then he asked you to dinner one day and everything sort of went up from there.

So now he has a girlfriend. And a fiance soon, if things go well next week. And now that Bakugo has it, a person he can call his, he doesn’t know how he lived without it for so long. 

Bakugo doesn’t know how he spent so many years sleeping alone, when now he wakes up and his legs are tangled between yours and your head rests on his chest. You trace the scars that litter his body so gently, gentler than anyone has ever handled him. You know how to match Bakugo’s temper, but better how to calm him down when his flares too much. But it’s more than that. It’s the little things. You always make him lunch for work because you know how busy he gets, and you always leave his towel at the top of the pile because you know he gets up before you. Such small noncommittal things that make all the difference in the world because it shows that you care.

It makes him regret. He wishes he’d given these things a chance when he was younger. But he doesn’t need to think about that because he has you now. It also makes him appreciate patrolling a little more but nobody could beat that information out of him if they tried.

Bakugo sighs. The TV blares a movie he’s not paying attention to. He’d clicked the first thing that had come up in Netflix, some horror movie with an awfully predictable plot. He’s more focused on his phone, more precisely the clock, which tells him you’ll be home in about five minutes. 

Bakugo loves his days off. Any hero does. They are so far and few between that he has no choice but to enjoy them, the few days a month where he can do nothing and not worry about the fate of Japan for one day. What he likes most, though, is that he gets to see you. Before, days off consisted of sitting in his apartment alone or being dragged out to whatever activity Mina had organised for the day. Even then, the odds of them all being off was slim, and so he usually ended up doing the former. He didn’t mind it. Bakugo caught up on his hobbies, tried new recipes. The only perk is now, he gets to do it with you.

And like a miracle, he hears the jingle of your keys in the lock, and he can feel the tension in his shoulders drop. 

The door swings open and you walk in, calling out to let him know you’re home. He leans his head back on the couch until he can see you, and you grin up at him. You’re wearing an old pair of jeans and one of his hoodies, and you hang up your jacket, sighing heavily.

“Why was the store so busy? It’s Sunday.” You grumble, walking to the kitchen to drop off bags of groceries.

“Idiots like you who left their chores until the last minute.” He says, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Shut it. I nearly beat up this old lady in the fruit section. Trying to take my watermelon.” You mumble under your breath.

You slip off the hoodie, grabbing the t-shirt you’d left on the couch. You weren’t wearing anything underneath, and Bakugo got a beautiful eyeful right before you slip it on.

“Uh huh. You sure you need that shirt?” 

He tilts his head and you smile, pulling out the claw clip holding up your hair and scratching your scalp. You slip off your jeans, throwing them on the floor, and shuffle your way over to him.

“Yes. I’m cold.”

“I’ll warm you up.” 

You snort. You clamber onto his lap and Bakugo sits back, hands smoothing over your thighs as you lean your head on his shoulder. You smell like your sweet perfume and outside, and Bakugo lets a hand run up your back and into your hair.

“That’s cheesy. I could wear more layers.” You ponder and he tuts, hands moving down to slip beneath your shirt. 

It’s baggy and oversized, and covers far too much if you ask him. His hands are warm against your cool skin, and his fingers dance against your hips and up, past your waist and to your chest. You sit up, smile curving your lips and your own hands settle on his shoulders.

“So handsy. I was trying to tell you about my day, Suki.” You pout and he reaches up and kisses you.

“Go ahead. M’listening.” He nods, kissing your cheek and your jaw and down your neck.

Bakugo is selfish. He’s self-aware enough to admit that. He’s selfish with his work, the way he fought his way to the top, and still does. He’d improved on it in his growing age but he finds that when you’re involved he doesn’t give a shit. He wants every part of your, every breath, every noise that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours.

“So, of course I tried to be nice. I’m no animal.” 

He’s not paying as much attention as he should be. In his defence, it’s been far too long since he’s gotten a chance to be with you. He’s been far to busy, and the small hours you meet in bed before you both drift off into sleep is not enough. 

“Stop being nice. It’s your biggest weakness.” He raises an eyebrow.

You flick him squarely in the forehead and he scowls. “Ow.” 

“You need to start being nice, Mr Pro hero. But anyway, she started like, trying to tug it out my hands! And you know what old people are like. So entitled.”

Bakugo nods. You feel great under his hands but. He wants something more. 

“And so now I’m in this fruit aisle sort of shouting a little because I had the watermelon first, and- Katsuki, get out of my shirt!” You laugh as Bakugo slips his head beneath, kissing his way up your stomach.

“That’s- Your hair, it tickles.” You try to push him out but he groans.

“Piss off. Keep talking. Did you kick her ass?”

You sigh. “I- Okay, wait.” 

You quickly pull your shirt off. “Is this better?”

Bakugo grins, lazy and sharp. “Much.” 

Your hand reaches up and cards through his hair. He mumbles into your skin for you to continue, and kisses his way up to your chest.

“And this employee comes over. And he started trying to diffuse the tension, but then he started defending her! And saying I should ‘respect my elders’.” You huff.

Bakugo nods. He kisses across the valley of your breast, the soft skin that presses against the stubble of his jaw. 

“You want me to beat him up?” 

“Hm. I don’t think it will look good on your agency if you beat up Whole food workers.” You sigh.

Bakugo sucks a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing against it. You make a noise in the back of your throat. 

“And. And then I got kind of fed up. The employee had a really annoying voice.” 

Your eyes flutter shut a little when he moves to the other one. His hand comes up to grab the breast his mouth isn’t working on and you sigh.

“He. So I just gave her the watermelon. Cause it wasn’t really that serious.”

Bakugo nods. He lets go, breath cooling the air around your nipple and he glances up at you.

“You should’ve called me. I’d have blown that old hag to the nearest nursery home.” 

You giggle and he grins. His hand presses into the small of your back and pushes you closer. He diverts his attention from your tits and kisses you softly instead. At least it’s soft at first. But then you whine ever so slightly into his mouth and it’s all over after that. His lips almost devour yours, and he can feel your face heat as he nips at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to tangle against your own. Bakugo drags you closer but you huff. Your hand running through his hair pulls his head back and Bakugo frowns.

“The fuck?”

“How is it fair that I’m sitting in my underwear and you’re fully dressed?” 

“I was waiting for you to finish your story first.”

You smile warmly. Bakugo doesn’t know of anyone else who looks at him with so much love. You grab his face and squish his cheeks together.

“You’re so cute.” You coo.

“Shut up.”

“Okay, you made me too horny to finish my story. It was a stupid one, anyway. Can we go fuck now?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

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bakugo kiss challenge go kiss me NOEOWWWW

ive been sooo lazy to write recently.. this took me ages to write and it's nnot even that long.. but i hope u all enjoy!

[h4venpha]

⸺ baby's favorite

✦ dragon!sylus x reader contents: myth/dragon sylus, dragon baby!, fluff wc: 586 notes: scrappy and kinda sloppy but i needed girldad!sylus AND dragon!sylus, whats better than to just put them together!

“i told you to watch her while i was gone.” 

“and i am watching her.” sylus hums lightly, ignoring the slight tone of annoyance in your voice as he dangles their rowdy daughter by her leg. he’s laying down with one arm propped to hold his head up with the tip of his long tail wrapped around her small, chubby ankle. regardless that his tail was covered in hard, jagged scales, their daughter, dove, squeals happily. sylus playfully swings her side to side, smiling when her loud giggles echoes throougout the cave.

ever since their daughter was born, their little cave seemed to glow a little bit brighter. warm, comforting, and baby proof. soft leather pads replacing the hoards of gold and jewels, candle lights burning brightly whereas the only source of light was once the gap above for the sun to shine through. you truly try your best to make this cave safe and sound for your daughter… except things become difficult whenever you get reminded where half of her blood comes from. 

dove was a hybrid, yet… looked like an exact copy of her father. silver hair, black scales, ruby red eyes, and recently, tiny black wings have sprouted from her back, along with an uncontrollable tail that knocks down everything in its path. you can only handle her when she’s willingly. nowadays, sylus has to practically wrestle her to keep her in check.

‘you’ll make her dizzy, sy.” you scold him for a second time as you set down the small basket of goods you bought from tarus city.

“i’m simply entertaining her so she doesn’t… fly off the cliff again.” sylus chuckles lightly, ignoring the way you glare at him for laughing. it’s been twice now that dove has somehow rolled herself off the cliff. small, weak wings flapping for a moment before is sylus swooping in and catching her mid air. he swears up and down that it’s always accidents, but you can’t help but think sylus just wants her to be able to fly with him and see her spread her wings.

must be the dragon in her that makes her so rowdy and eager to run off with him. makes sense considering her father is the only one who can truly handle her.

you come over and quickly turn your daughter right side up, pulling her from the grasp of his tail. dove whines softly, complaining as she makes grabby hands for sylus. 

“no no no, your daddy is a bad influence.” you say in a faux serious tone, wagging your face in front of dove’s tiny face. her red eyes track your finger before pouting, as if she understood your words.

“bad influence?” sylus repeats, coming behind you to look over your shoulder at her. “mommy doesn’t like when you have fun with me, isn’t that right?” he scoffs, smugly smirking when dove immediately lets go of your finger and makes grabby hands towards him instead.

you don’t even have time to comment before he suddenly reaches in to take dove out of your arms. sylus throws the tiny dragon baby into the air, smiling when she bursts into a fit of giggles. you watch with a defaeted smile as he spins and throws her around, letting her float her way back down, baby wings fluttering.

“look, can mommy make you laugh like this?” sylus taunts playfully, “hm i don’t think so.” his ruby eyes flicking from dove to you as her laughter warms the cave a little.