#oh look there's some new footage of him looking pretty

[sapphire-writes]

the winner takes it all

Art x Reader x Tashi

summary: winners deserve rewards, and Tashi is more than happy to spoil her star athlete with the help of her ever-dutiful husband.

word count: 2.7k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: porn no plot (deep breath) m/f/f dynamic, threesome, dom!Tashi, switch!Art, sub!Reader, p in v, creampie, overstim, hair pulling, titty play, use of toys, praise, teasing, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), oral (reader giving fem), face sitting

note: hope you enjoy! my first non-HOTD related fic!

link to other stories from me!

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Your match had taken place several hours ago. You’d been anxious the entire time, but ended up winning, much to you and your coach’s pleasure. The ride back to the hotel was torturous, as well as the following mandatory ice bath, sauna, shower, and footage review. It was the routine you’d followed ever since Tashi began coaching you.

She was nothing if not thorough.

After tying up several loose ends, including Tashi grilling you for every point you missed, every fault she could see when she paused the footage, you now found yourself in a more pleasurable position. 

Art held your legs open as he continued his even thrusts, cock sliding against the walls of your pussy at a torturous pace. Tashi sat beside you, clad only in a silk robe and lace panties, brushing some hair from your face that was sticking to your forehead with perspiration.

You had the suite to yourself for the night. Tashi and Art’s little girl was safely tucked away with her grandmother in another elegant suite on the other side of the hotel. Another part of the routine. 

“Tash….”

“You did well out there today,” she interrupts, reaching beside her to the end table drawer and pulling out her Hitachi wand. It buzzes to life as she turns it on and a strangled whine leaves your throat as she presses it to your clit,  “See what happens when you put in the extra time? That backhand of yours is a lethal weapon now.”

“Fuck!” is the only response you’re able to give as Art moans at the vibrations as he continues to pound into you. 

She likes you best like this, fucked dumb on Art’s cock, mindlessly agreeing to her plans for future matches, eyes rolling back in your head. Different moves she’ll have you practice. How hard she plans to work you on the court the following morning. 

“Come on, come for me,” Tashi insists, hand trailing over your breasts, “What’s my girl need to come, hm? Need these pretty tits attended to?” She pinches your nipple for emphasis and your jaw slacks, a pleasurable current in your gut winding tighter and tighter with the continuous stimulation.

Art slings your left leg over his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to your calf as he does so. 

The new angle sends him deeper inside of you and you clench, mouth falling open with an uncontrollable moan.

“That’s it,” Tashi murmurs, eyes never leaving your face, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Art knows how to treat his girl, huh? Don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he hissed between clenched teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow, “Fucking perfect pussy, god—”

Tashi removes her hand from your breast, taking hold of your chin.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes water with pleasurable tears but you do as she asks, always keen to follow her instructions. The tennis court, the bedroom, it was all the same playing field in the end.

“Come on baby,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss against your lips, “Come for me, you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve it.”

“Fuck!” Art courses as your pussy tightens around him, “Oh uhhh—”

“I’m cumming,” you helplessly whimper, the words nearly a sob, “Tashi…..fuck….Art fuck feels so—-“ your abdominal muscles tense as your reach your peak, white-hot ecstasy flooding your body as a shudder rolls through you. 

Tashi smiles as you come, fingers dancing down your neck. Art fucks you through it, leaning forward to pound into you at a harder rhythm, chasing his imminent release. It’s only then Tashi glances at him, her smile dropping slightly.

“Don’t cum.”

Art’s hips stutter as your walls continue to flutter around his thick length, his jaw slacks, eyes watering as he looks at his wife.

“Tash—”

“I said no,” she insists, shutting off the vibrator and throwing it to the side. Leaning forward, she captures your lips in a kiss. She sits up, a smile on her face as she kisses Art as well. He whimpers against her lips, hard and pulsating inside you still. But Tashi never changes her mind.

“You want to come, you should try winning.” 

“Tash please,” Art’s voice was strained, Adam’s apple bobbing, his expression pained, “please let me come.”

“Yeah?” She taunts moving up to kiss him. She brings her lips close to his, his eyes fluttering shut as she barely brushes the soft pout of her mouth against his. His lips part, head tilting to chase her. 

You watch from below them, still trying to slow your breathing. You like watching them dance, this push and pull they have. It’s hypnotizing, the effect she has on him. On you. Tashi pushes his chest and his eyes flutter open.

“Sit.” 

Tashi nods to the chair in the corner of the room. Art hesitates and she raises a brow when he doesn’t move quickly enough. Teeth clenched, Art unsheathes his aching cock from your warmth, hissing as he pulls completely out. Your breath hitches at the loss of him, and you gaze up at Tashi waiting for her next instruction. 

Fully naked, Art walks to the chair, cock hard and swinging between his legs as though he’s nothing more than a scolded pup. 

Tashi stands walking over to him, and Art tilts his chin to meet her eyes. Slowly, she lets the silk robe fall from her shoulders, and she takes her time removing it and placing it on his lap. You can see his erection through the soft purple fabric. 

“Hold that for me, would you?” she asks, turning back to face you.

You can’t help it as your gaze falls to her breasts; supple and mouth-watering, dark nipples taunting you. The dip of flesh between her abdominal muscles, a spot you’ve run your tongue along countless times now. Tashi rejoins you on the bed, lying next to you, looping her thumbs in the waistband of her lace panties. 

“You want a taste, baby?” she asks, smiling slightly at you.

You nod eagerly as she beckons you with a tilt of her chin. Scrambling into a kneeling position you slot yourself between Tashi’s toned legs, replacing her fingers and gently pulling off her lace panties, tossing them to the side and revealing her glistening sex.

Two things turn Tashi on. Telling you and Art what to do, and tennis.

Tashi brings her hand down her front tracing down her toned stomach until she reaches the soft curls that frame her pussy. She takes two fingers and spreads herself before you. 

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and seductive, “Eat up.”

She’s an enchantress, you swear, using some sort of siren song to pull you in. Even here between her legs, she’s in charge; it’s you who’s helpless. You lower your face toward her pussy, already drunk on the scent of her even before your tongue reaches her warm slit. 

You couldn’t hold in your moan of pleasured relief even if you tried as your tongue dipped lower, parting her lips and dipping inside her right entrance. There’s something about her, how she feels, how she tastes. You’ll never get enough of it. You nuzzle closer to her, nose bumping against her clit and she rewards you with a breathy sigh. 

“Art,” she calls as you eagerly continue lavishing her pussy with attention, “How’s the view?”

“Fucking breathtaking,” he answered, his voice strangled, “Tashi please….”

“She’s so good,” Tashi praises, nails taking against your scalp sending pleasurable tingles down your spine, “Put that pretty mouth of yours where it counts. Show me how badly you want it.” 

Your tummy flutters with excitement and you suction your lips around Tashi’s clit, sucking the sensitive button as you hear Art stand up. 

“Put that ass up,” Tashi instructs you, her voice airy, nearly breathless. You arch your back, leaning forward into her as Art’s hands cup the front of your thighs. 

You wiggle as he kneels behind you, his breath on your pussy before his lips meet your pussy. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as Art trails his hands up your thighs, spreading your cheeks wider as he feasts on you, tongue dipping inside of you and then up to circle your clit. 

“I’ll make you a deal baby,” Tashi purrs, back arching off the bed slightly as your tongue circles her pearl, “If you make her finish before I do, I’ll let you come.”

Art groans against you, finishing with a frustrated whine as Tashi chuckles. You glance up at her, drinking in the blissed-out expression on her face, that sly smirk that reaches her eyes. 

“Deal?”

Art doesn’t hesitate, he simply redoubles his efforts, tongue entering you with desperate precision. Your lips falter, the pleasure messing with your coordination as Art ups the ante. You feel him pull away from you, and hear the wet pop of his fingers entering his mouth and leaving just as quickly. Then he’s breaching you, fingers slipping inside you with ease from the continued attention following your first orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as Art fingers you. He sets a rough pace, placing his opposite hand on your asscheek and squeezing the soft flesh. 

The two fingers he has plunged inside you to the knuckle curl perfectly against your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he curls his fingers. 

“Come on,” Art murmurs, slapping your ass, “I know you want to come again.”

“Yes she does,” Tashi agrees, unable to help herself. 

“Greedy girl, never satisfied with just one, huh?” Art teases and Tashi chuckles at his efforts. Art never speaks to her like that, only you. Tashi prefers the more dominant role over both you and her husband.

Still eager to please her you sloppily continue eating her out, lost in the sensation of Art's fingers in your pussy, Tashi’s fingers in your hair—

“Come on baby,” Art encourages, though there’s a hint of desperation in his tone. He wants to come just as badly as you do.

“Such a messy girl,” Tashi coos, propping herself on her elbows, “Oh but so so good. I’m getting close…”

Art slaps your ass again, curling his fingers against your g-spot, and it’s no use. Your jaw slacks and your head lolls against the softness of Tashi’s inner thigh as your walls clench around Art’s fingers, your release barreling through you like a freight train. It knocks the air from your lungs, a desperate cry leaving you as Art makes a noise of triumph. 

“So you are capable of winning,” Tashi snaps, a little too cold to be simply a bedroom taunt. Art stares at her, before she sits up, “I haven’t come yet.”

“Let me,” you murmur, looking up at her, still lying on her thigh. She smiles down at you, stroking your cheek.

“You’re a sweet girl,” she praises, “But Art won. I think he deserves to finish in that sweet little pussy of yours. Would you like that?”

“Tash…I can’t,” you whimper, still sensitive and tingly from your previous orgasms, “I can’t come again.”

Her smile fades back to that familiar smirk. She glances at Art, nodding at the bed. Cock still standing at attention Art joins you both, lying on his back. Tashi’s hand winds its way in your hair, tugging you not so gently from your resting place. You follow her lead like a puppet on a string. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” she accuses, pushing you towards Art’s lap, “This is a reward. You deserve this.”

Art’s cock pokes at the soft plush of your inner thighs as you straddle him. His hands move automatically towards your hips, rough thumbs brushing against you leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

He looks at you with wide, watery eyes, blonde hair a tousled mess.

“One more?” he asks, and you know at that moment if you tapped out, he’d respect it. Art was never one to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. 

He rubs your hips again, a soothing motion, and you lean into his touch. Something deep inside you tightens with want. You need him. You need her. You inhale a shaky breath and lift your hips, lining the swollen head of his cock with your entrance. Sinking onto him slowly like this is something else. The way he stretches your insides as you come to rest against him is a feeling you’ll never get used to. 

“Good girl.”

Art’s head falls back against the pillows and then Tashi pulls them from underneath him. Her husband knows immediately what she’s after and tilts his head back as she climbs onto his face. 

Tashi sits on her husband’s face as though it’s her throne. As though he was made for her and no one else. 

She pulls you closer as you lazily begin to ride Art. Lips crashing against yours she kisses you passionately, rolling her hips at the pace you began. Soon you find your rhythm, moving in sync together as Art moans beneath you, happy to pleasure both his girls at once. Tashi’s hand finds your hair again and she tugs your head back, latching her lips against your neck.

She’s fond of leaving marks. Art is hers through their marriage, but she likes to remind you that you belong to her as well. 

Art bucks his hips up into you, the head of his cock nudging perfectly against your sweet spot, just as his fingers had moments before. A whine leaves your lips and Tashi laughs against your neck. 

“He’s good at that, yeah?” she murmurs, placing soft kisses up your neck and returning to your lips, “Good with his cock, good with his…his tongue.” Her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as Art does something you can only imagine.

He moans again, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he decides the pace you’ve set simply isn’t enough. Art’s hands dip below the curve of your ass right where it meets your thighs, lifting you with ease up and down on his cock. He meets you halfway, thrusting up into you as he slams you up and down. 

Your whines increase in volume, turning into elongated moans swallowed by Tashi’s kiss. You can feel her nipples pressing against your own and you reach out to caress them. Tashi gyrates her hips on Art’s face and his pace becomes more frantic as he plants both feet on the mattress fucking up into you harder, faster, deeper.

“I—” 

Words are lost to you as your mind goes fuzzy; that familiar pressure in your gut builds, a wave of pleasure cresting deep within you. Tashi’s mouth captures yours once more as she snakes a hand down your front, nimble fingers circling your clit giving you just what you need to reach your end. Again.

With that the rubber band in your belly snaps and you come with a startled cry, pleasured tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as you clench around Art’s thick cock. His hips falter only for a moment as he chases his own release, and soon you feel his cock twitch within your warm walls, his spend blooming inside of you.

Tashi smiles proudly as you and Art ride out your highs, the pair of you moaning, limbs jerking from the exertion. Everything’s a game to her. And she always wins. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs, hips still swirling around Art’s face, “Oh god I’m—” 

You watch as her thighs tense, her head dips and her eyes squeeze shut as her orgasm crashes over her at last. 

Carefully you ease Art’s softening cock from within you and lay between the both of them. Tashi on your left, Art on your right. You’re facing Tashi, watching as she comes down from her high, feeling Art’s chest press against your back.

It’s quiet for a moment, the soft sound of a kiss being pressed to your shoulder the only noise in the room. Art snakes a hand around your waist, fingers brushing the soft skin of your tummy. You giggle slightly at the ticklish sensation which causes him to bite down gently on your shoulder. Tashi simply watches, wetting her lips. 

“On the courts at five tomorrow,” she says, before standing, “I’ll run us a bath.”

Art sighs and you can’t help but agree with his subtle frustration. Back to business.

“Whatever you say, coach.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[17020]

DON'T LEAVE ME, GIRL.

Because brainrot can take people places. This is men from KAIJU NO. 8, BLUE LOCK & WIND BREAKER as Henry Danger memes. These are complete crack headcannons and I'm sorry in advance. Do it 4 the plot!

STARRING . . . Soshiro Hoshina, Gen Narumi (KN8), Yoichi Isagi, Reo Mikage (BLLK), Yamato Endo, Hajime Umemiya (WINBRE). gn reader!

SOSHIRO HOSHINA

The fact of the matter is, Soshiro Hoshina had you MONITORED ever since he realized he had romantic feelings for you. With the excuse of receiving daily reports from platoon leaders about their officers, he only paid any mind to any reports about you.

And he was so obvious about it, that some platoon leaders caught on to what he was doing. Nakanoshima genuinely enjoyed it, as seeing the vice-captain with wide eyes trying to conceal any emotion when you're mentioned was a one-of-a-kind experience.

"Oh, by the way! Officer Ln got hit on by one of my men yesterday."

Nakanoshima tried her best to hold in her laughter while Hoshina choked on his food in the middle of the cafeteria. She could see how his face contorted with disgust, as he anxiously began to play with his food.

"And what does that have to do with the reports?" he sneered. She gave him a knowing look, to which he sighed. He was utterly hopeless, wasn't he? A complete idiot in love. So much of an idiot, that even his subordinates caught wind of what was happening.

"...so, what'd they do about it?"

"They turned him down" she shrugged, "Well, at least that's what I saw. If you want the whole thing, you'd probably have to ask Okonogi. She was there way longer than me."

Hoshina's next stop was the operations room.

"Okonogi, dear, do you happen to have any camera footage of the hallway leading to the cafeteria from yesterday at about 5pm—"

The salute that followed sent a shiver down his spine, as he turned to his side to see you, comfortably sitting in Okonogi's seat.

"Vice-captain Hoshina? Sir, Miss Okonogi is currently on break, and she left me here to help her run through some reports" you smiled sheepishly, "If this is about yesterday, sir, just know that nothing happened with the officer that approached me. I completely apologize."

When you bowed in apology, Hoshina simply grinned as he raised his hand to pat your head. "Ya know I care about my officers, sweetheart, so I jus' wanted to make sure ya weren't being harassed."

"Did—did you just call me sweetheart, sir?"

"That's 30 pushups for ya, Ln."

GEN NARUMI

Being in the First Division was already hard enough with all of the highly skilled officers around you, but having captain Gen Narumi follow you around like a lost puppy? Yeah, you unlocked a new level of hell.

The fact that you had a higher-up on your trail didn't bother you, it was the fact that Narumi himself was insufferable, and if the rumors that other officers came to spill to you were true...

Gen Narumi was head over heels for you, and he took every opportunity he had to show off in front of you.

As much as you hated to admit it, Narumi truly was something else. His ability to slay kaiju was unlike any you had ever seen before, and it was nothing short of admirable. Off the field, though, Narumi was like some annoying influencer trying to sell you their latest product from some pyramid scheme.

His product? Himself.

Whenever he wasn't boasting about himself or trying to show you his social media fame, he was constantly in your messages trying to strike up a conversation. Today was no different, as he slid into your messages asking if you knew about his latest video game records.

NARUMI 17:04 and that's how i ended up winning you should've been there, i was incredible

YOU 17:10 wow yeah that's a shame

NARUMI 17:10 something wrong? you're cold today

YOU 17:20 sorry it's been a hard day today, i'm feeling pretty down

NARUMI 17:21 i know what could cheer you up [1 Attachment]

You could not believe your eyes.

In your phone was a picture of Gen Narumi, holding his phone like a facebook parent, duck lips and all, winking.

You didn't hold it in, laughing hysterically at your screen. Tears were forming from how hard you were laughing, and the messages you received made you drop to your knees.

NARUMI 17:25 i'm outside your office btw WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING???

YOICHI ISAGI

When Isagi accidentally revealed to Kurona and Hiori about his growing crush on you, he settled on keeping your name hidden in public conversations. A part of him thought that, yes, it might be childish, but code names could save his ass from the prying eyes of Blue Lock TV and the press.

He knew you were watching at home, as he constantly texted you about what you saw on your television throughout the week. He’s grateful that there are no cameras in the stratum’s bedrooms, as he mostly spends his time kicking his feet like a schoolgirl whenever he’s chatting with you.

While having lunch with his teammates, the topic of relationships had surged, as there were some which wondered if their teammates had someone waiting for them back home.

“So, Isagi, did you confess to Yn already?”

“Confess! Confess!”

“Huh.”

Isagi’s eye twitched as his teammates slowly stood up from their seats. They looked at each other nervously, and in response, Isagi sighed.

"The code name was apple" he sneered, "if this ends up on Blue Lock TV, you're fucking dead."

Hiori and Kurona were grateful that social media did not rave about Isagi's love life, thus thinking they were safe from any tormenting. Isagi was relieved that his teammates' slip up was kept under wraps, as he wasn't ready to express his feelings just yet.

Luckily for him, Blue Lock TV released a special episode filled with drama and gossip from all teams, and much to his dismay, "APPLE" started trending on Twitter, along with his name, and the phrase "WHO IS YN".

REO MIKAGE

Reo Mikage knew that your job as Bastard Munchen's social media manager meant that he wouldn't see you as much, with him seeing you on award shows, events, or football matches that you both attended as guests.

Every day, he would text you a new reason for you to switch teams and join Manshine City instead. He offered to fly you out, help you with paperworks and your CV—Mikage had everything covered.

Except for your approval.

It was hard to leave a team you grew to be fond of, after almost two years of working there, you learned to love everyone as you would with your own family. After hearing Mikage's pleas day after day, you finally gave him the go ahead to submit your job application.

Which just so happened to fall on the day in which Manshine played against Bastard.

It was a complex match, with your team winning 3-2 against Mikage's. After celebrating with some nice dinner on a rooftop, Isagi had invited you to go around Manchester for some shopping, as he wanted to buy a present for his mother.

Reo Mikage's phone had blown up in a way he had never witnessed before. From his friends, social media, hell—even Nagi was spamming him with messages, sending him a link to an article.

"Yoichi Isagi spotted with mystery person in Cartier for a shopping day! What we know about them so far..."

Reo Mikage had to be forcibly removed from his phone and social media, with his teammates having to hold him back from causing a scene.

Because why on God's beautiful Earth were you shopping with Isagi instead of him?

When he received his phone back, he saw a text from you, explaining how Isagi asked for your help to buy jewelry for his mother's upcoming birthday. He felt himself melt at the thought of your kindness, as according to him, you were doing charity work. Nothing against Isagi's mother, though.

He smiled as he exited your chat and typed out a name, starting a new conversation.

REO 23:11 Listen here you Mr. "I take Yn shopping in Manchester" I swear if I ever see you near them in public again you better pray that you stay in Bastard because do you know who I am I am the heir of Mikage Corp and the amount of power I have would put you to shame because WHO do you think you are first stealing Nagi from me and now Yn you seriously have to have a death wish for that you stupid good for nothing Be grateful that they're leaving your poor little team and joining Manshine soon, so they'll never see you again you punk

YAMATO ENDO

"—and then he told me that if I went to the beach with the girls and that one guy, he'd break up with me on the spot. Can you believe him? We had to pick up trash at the beach for a school project and he said that"

"I can't believe it!" Endo gasped, his hand on your shoulder, "If that were me, I would've never said that. That's a shitty move on his part."

"Annnnd then he had my socials on his phone, and he read the notifications that I received. He got mad because a friend told me they loved me."

Okay, that one he could agree with.

The joy of having Yamato Endo listening to your horrible experiences with your ex was that, at face value, Endo was agreeing with everything you said. Internally, though, he thought different.

The more he heard, the more intrigued he was about your ex. Because Endo Yamato found himself relating to him, and was on the verge of asking you for his number.

"Damn, he was oversteppin' boundaries" he sighed. Snooping every once in a while ain't bad, though, is what he thought. 'Cause what if they're cheating or something, or covering for someone?

He shook his head as he discarded the thought, as neither of those situations could ever apply to you. You went on and on, describing the various ways in which your ex had either pissed you off or straight up did you dirty.

At the end of your rant, Endo slyly pulled out his phone and opened the search tab of his social media.

"Damn Yn that's crazy! Anyway, what was his name again?"

HAJIME UMEMIYA

You knew Hajime Umemiya was too trusting and naive, but you let it slide. When you and him were cuddling on your couch, mindlessly scrolling through his social media, something was off.

His page was filled with Instagram models.

And sure, you wouldn't have any trouble with it, but the fact that there were half naked people clogging your boyfriend's feed, you felt a bit iffy. When asking him about it, he simply laughed.

"Oh, the kids at the orphanage took my phone a while back! Didn't know they followed all these people, though" he smiled.

Well the kids at the orphanage have very good taste, you thought.

When the next week rolled by and Umemiya found himself in a brawl outside of Pothos, you stood in the sidelines next to Kotoha. "Did he do anything about the models?" she asked. When you shook your head in response, she smirked.

"Give me your phone, Yn."

She opened the camera app and pointed it towards the brawl, motioning for you to slide a bit to your left so that you would be in the frame.

"Now say cheese!"

"Hey—what's going on?" Umemiya questioned, before having a punch thrown at his face. Kotoha chuckled in return, her fingers intertwining with yours.

"Don't you see? Yn's modeling. If you need anyone to save you, ask Sommer Ray! We're out of here."

taglist (open, yippee!): @stunie @kaiser1ns @nyxypoo @karasuglazer @littleplantfreak @maruflix @heartkaji

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Step Towards Him

Part Two of Betrayal. Or how meeting Gothams Vigilantes leads you to look for your ex. Does it count as a Fix-it fic if it's my own work? I do not follow the canon timeline in this. ~2.8k words

The world changes for you after that night, after finding out your boyfriend is a crime lord. And not just any crime lord. Gotham's biggest. It shatters you. You take some time off of work, request to be transferred off the case. Gordan gives you strange, worried looks over it, but doesn't ask. It makes you want to hide in your office and sob.

The world changes around you too. You try to ignore the reports about Red Hood, but you can't. Not when helicopters catch footage of him confronting Batman. Not when he's sighted entering an abandoned building before it explodes. (No, you don't throw up when you hear the news. Or let out uncontrollable sobs in the bed that he used to share.) Not when he comes back as some sort of vigilante, a protector of crime alley. (No, you don't drop to your knees in relief in front of the television.)

Your life finds some rhythm of normal. You go to work. You cook dinner alone. You curl under your comforter. You convince yourself the bed doesn't feel empty. That life is normal. Except some things aren't. 

It starts with Nightwing. He drops down next to you when you're picking through an active crime scene. It doesn't set off any warning bells at first, the Bats always seem to be where they're needed. Then he speaks.

"So, you and Red Hood?" He asks, voice light and teasing.

You nearly jump out of your skin to look at him wide eyed, before your head whips around to see if anyone's heard. They haven't, the crime scene is empty save for the two of you. You turn back to him, hackles raised and eyes narrowed. "How do you–"

He shrugs, smiling easily like he's not dragging the shattered pieces of your heart across the coals. "Found out by accident."

"Well, we aren't together anymore." You huff, averting your gaze from him and back to the crime scene. You know he's analyzing you, even under his relaxed demeanor. You're just not sure what he's looking for. 

"That's a shame." Nightwing chirps, spinning the sticks in his hands you know are equipped with enough electricity to bring down a rhino. 

You can't help the wince you make at that. "Why?"

"It seems like he really liked you." 

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, a mannerism he definitely sees. You know Jason– Red Hood liked you. He used to say all that and more against your skin when he thought you were sleeping. (You don't relive that memory when everything's heavy and your stomach twists and you need something good.) "It's in the past." You answer instead. 

He opens his mouth to answer, but you never hear what he wanted to say. The sound of lab techs arriving at the crime scene draws your attention. By the time you turn back to him, he's already gone. You shake your head, trying not to read into the vigilantes' words. Damn Bats.

There's a kid in your office. Not just any kid. Red Robin. Ok, sure, he's not exactly a child, but he's definitely a teenager and definitely should not be sitting at your desk, in your office, and typing on your computer.

"Um, hello, Red Robin. Is there something I can do for you...?" You ask, lingering in the middle of the room. 

He looks up, turning your computer slightly towards you. You step closer to look. "Have you thought about using this cipher here?"

You glance over the screen. Huh. He's right. That code had been troubling you for a week. Leave it to a Bat to get it done in a day. "Oh. Thanks, that's pretty impressive work."

He grins at you and sits back in your seat. "That means you have some free time to talk to me?"

You eye him wearily, remembering your encounter with Nightwing. "I– yeah. Sure. Of course I do."

"Great!" He practically lights up and starts rambling. "Did you know Red Hood has a direct comlink to the batcave? And he saved that family from the Park Row explosion last week. Did you know he likes to read? He's kind of a nerd but–"

"Woah, woah, hey." You cut him off. "Look, I heard about the rescue and I know about the– uh, reading stuff, okay? What's this about?" He studies you, he can probably read your emotions better than you know them yourself. He probably knows exactly what you're feeling about Red Hood.

He smiles wider at you, like he's found what he was looking for, and stands up, almost bouncing to the window. "No reason. Just wanted you to know." He's launched his grappling hook and is out of sight before you can get another word in.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. Bats.

You're almost expecting it when you find yourself in the presence of the next vigilante. Sitting alone in an unmarked car, the most boring stakeout of your life isn't so boring anymore when Batgirl drops herself onto the hood of your car. You only embarrass yourself a little bit by yelping, spilling what's left of your coffee on the dashboard. She's at the door and tugging the handle by the time you've frantically wiped down the lukewarm liquid off the car. 

You unlock the door. If you didn't know better you would have said the stitches in her mask turned upward. 

She slides into the passenger seat.

It's quiet for a long time. So long you actually start to get comfortable with her being in the car with you. 

"Brother."

Your gaze snaps to her. "What?"

"Tries." 

You blink at her. She's already leaving the car as gracefully as she entered it. Okay. Okay. Definitely nothing to read into there. There's no way she was talking about him. Jason– 'no' you correct yourself– Red Hood is definitely not related to Batgirl and he's definitely not anything else she says he is. 

Work was particularly long today, your shoulders ache, your head is pounding. It's a relief when you finally open the door to your apartment.

"I understand why Todd likes you so much."

"Motherfu–" You half shout, reaching for the baseball bat by the door before you stop short, gaze settling on Robin, who seemed to have made himself comfortable in your home. 

He waves a picture at you, one with you and Jason together, the one you took during a date to Gothams botanical garden. The one you know you had tucked away under your bed. 

You exhale heavily, far too tired to find the energy to scold the kid and lecture him about boundaries. "What are you doing here, Robin?"

"I am here to join the others in their endeavors to reconnect you and Todd."

You tense, jaw dropping a little before you can gather yourself. "No one's doing that."

He places the picture carefully down on the counter. "Of course they are. You're good for Todd. And he asked for you when he was coming out of the fear toxin hallucinations. That shows trust."

"He what?" You ask, voice pitched and startled.

"He asked for you." Robin responds, voice steady and factual. "You didn't know?"

You shake your head, thoughts racing. 

"Oh." He looks unsure, you've never seen any of the Bats look unsure, it snaps you out of your spiraling. "Perhaps, don't mention I told you?"

"Course, Robin. I won't." You answer, and you're relieved when your voice doesn't shake.

He nods, like he expected that answer, but you're not sure if he did. 

"Can I get you anything?" You ask and he actually looks surprised. 

"No. I need to return to patrol. Technically my route doesn't cover this area."

"Oh?" You prompt, unable to keep yourself from prying. "Whose does?"

He scoffs like it's obvious on his way out your window. 

Despite your exhaustion, sleep doesn't come easily that night.

Your final straw is Batman, because of course it is. 

Gordan had handed you a stack of files. "Detective, I need you to take this to the roof, I have the mayor waiting in my office to hear more about the Freeze situation." He rolls his eyes, dark circles and lack of sleep evident on his eyes. "Though he should know by now hounding my officers won't change anything."

"Sir," You start, "can Montoya do it?"

He gives you a pitying look. "Sorry, Detective. Montoya's in archives. You're the only one I can trust with this."

That's how you ended up on the roof of the GCPD precinct. 

"Detective." A low, distinct voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin, even if you knew he was coming. 

You whip around, only relaxing when your gaze settles on Gothams Dark Knight. You silently offer him the files. He takes them, but doesn't look at them, watching you instead. Analyzing you. Studying. It's starting to get nerve wracking being judged by every vigilante Gotham has to offer.

"I know you and Red Hood–"

"Please don't." You cut him off with more bravery than you knew you had.

He doesn't. You look away. But the time you've found the courage to turn back, he's gone. 

You're walking through crime alley, alone, at night, just a few days later. You're not completely sure what your plan is, what you want out of this. But settling whatever is lingering between you and Jason is worth the danger. 

But, danger never finds you. You don't make it two minutes into crime alley before the sound of boots hitting the ground behind you reaches your ears. You know it's him. You know he could have done that soundlessly, but he let you hear him. It steadies some of the unease in your chest.

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounds robotic through the voice modulator, but his shoulders are stiff, body tense, when you turn to face him. You notice his fingers twitch towards you, that soothes another ache in your chest. 

"I wanted to talk to you." You say slowly, carefully. It feels more daunting now that you're here, in his element. 

He looks around. "It's too open."

You follow his gaze, the streets seem empty, but you know Gotham well enough that the shadows have ears. "Then where?"

He considers you for a moment. "The roof. Can I– can I carry you? Just to get us to the roof faster. Or I could drop a fire escape for you?"

"Oh. Um, sure, I don't mind you carrying me. How do you plan on getting us up there, exactly?" You ask, voice pitching slightly at the thought of being close to him again.

He holds up something you recognize as a grappling gun as he steps to your side, hooking an arm around you and firmly tugging you against him. "Hold on."

You wrap your arms around his neck and air is flying past your ears before you've even realized your feet have left the ground. 

He lets go of you slowly once you're both settled on the roof, hand lingering at your waist to make sure you don't fall over. "Good?"

"Good." You echo, and he reluctantly moves to give you space. 

"So, why are you putting yourself in danger just to talk to me? You know these streets aren't safe." He crosses his arms over his chest, it would seem defensive if you didn't recognize the stiffness in his shoulders, like he's bracing for the worst. You wish you could see behind his mask.

"I– could you talk to your family? They keep coming to see me and I think they have the wrong idea." You tell him, voice careful and even.

"Wait, wait. My family?" His arms drop to his side, confusion apparent even through the modulator his helmet.

"Yes? Some of the other vigilantes came to see me a few times–" 

He curses softly, shifting and clenching his fists. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. They shouldn't have done that."

You falter, "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

He sighs heavily, like he's carrying all of life's burdens as he unclenches his fists. "I know. It's not you I'm mad at." He shifts his weight, unsure. "It's just– you should have meant it. I'm not good."

You straighten out, upset he would even consider himself that after how much he's changed, tried to be good, succeeded at being good. You'll never admit it, but you can't help but follow every story about him, every tiny detail about what he does. "That's not true. I'm the one that's not good."

He levels you with look. "Don't act like I don't know you. You are good. You wouldn't have given up running my case if you weren't. You could have run me out of Gotham."

"You know about that?" You ask softly.

"No shit, I know about it. I know you." He says it like it's a fact, a universal truth. 

"But I– I broke up with you. Without really listening. I didn't try to understand." You protest, because with all the bad he's ever done, the good he's done– the fact that he's trying– outweighs it all.

He tilts his helmet towards you. "Because Iied to you. I was using you."

"You said you stopped that."

"I did." He answers, firm and resolute, then sighs out your name. "But I still did that to you, I still hurt you." He pauses, "Look, I'll talk to the others. They won't bother you again, okay? Just– Let me take you home."

"I don't want to go home." You step closer to him. You've decided what you want.

He seems to freeze at the movement. "You don't want to go home?" He repeats slowly, carefully like the words don't make sense to him.

"Red Hood– Jason. I'd like– I miss you, okay? I miss waking up next to you, I miss making dumb jokes with you when we cook, I miss cuddling with you while we make fun of movies together. I want to– I want to try again. If you'd let me."

"If I'd let you?" He echoes your words again. It makes your face fall, how stoic he seems. Then, his mask is clattering against the roof, his gloves tugged off and dropped haphazardly so he can cup your face with his hands. He leans his forehead against yours, and breathes out your name. "I'd let you take anything you wanted from me."

You grab his wrists, intent on keeping him close after so long apart, as your heart races, your breath catches and everything centers on him. Your eyes dart over his face, trying to see the truth in his eyes. 

"I mean it. If all you ever wanted from me was friendship, just someone to keep your bed warm at night, or something more. I'd give that to you." His eyes dart over your face in return, wanting to make sure you understand his words, his feelings for you. 

"I want more. I want you." You say quickly, because he needs to know he's important to you. That he matters to you and what he does as Red Hood didn't and can't change that. 

He lets out a breathless laugh and kisses you. It sets your nerves on end and for the first time since you told him you didn't want to see him, you feel grounded. You kiss him back, hands leaving his wrists to grab the leather of his jacket and draw him closer. 

He only pulls away when you're both gasping for air. "I know I have a lot to make up for–."

"So do I." You cut off.

"Then maybe we're even, yeah? A fresh start." He says softly, tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

You smile and tilt your head up to kiss him again, sweet and lazy before leaning back. "I'd like that."

He's smiling when he kisses you again, and neither of you move to untangle yourselves until you hear whooping and cheering coming from the rooftop across the street.

It's been a few weeks since then. And your relationship is good, better than before, if that's even possible. You're picking over snacks in the grocery store with Jason when an elderly, but alert looking man walks up to the two of you. 

"Ah, I see this is your partner you've been trying to hide from us?" 

Jason straightens out, "Alfred? What are you– uh, yes. Yes. This is them." 

You grin, pulling your fingers from Jason's to reach out and shake Alfred's hand, offering him your name as you do. 

Alfred's eyes seem to twinkle and he nods approvingly as he introduces himself. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. You're welcome to dinner any night, I know the others are eager to officially meet you."

Jason groans a little, and he rests his hand against the small of your back. "We'll think about it, Alfred."

Alfred smiles knowingly at you, "Of course. Take your time."

And as you lean into Jason's side, you have a feeling you'll be making it to that dinner sooner rather than later. 

A Side Story

[gothcsz]

The Boy is Mine | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~7k wc | Part 1 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You become obsessed with the new DEA attaché.

Tags: oral (m receiving), stalking, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation (f), we're humping a pillow y'all, light spanking, javi's gun makes an appearance, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, dubcon, no use of Y/N, reader is a photojournalist, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i told myself i was going to take my time with this but i've been hyperfixated on this song and music video since it dropped... imagining my favorite pedro boy and... well i cranked this sucker out so fast. oh to break in to javi's apartment and blow him into oblivion 😫 let me know what you think! i might write a part 2 if there's interest for it xoxo mwah enjoy queridas. 🖤

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

You’ve never seen a man so handsome. So determined. So capable.

So perfect.

You knew from the moment you laid eyes on him that he was the one.

You’d been waiting outside of the embassy in the pouring rain for over an hour trying to catch him while on his break, wanting to get a quote from the new DEA attaché on his plans to tackle the Cali cartel.

That’s why you’re here in Colombia. Fresh out of grad school with a masters in photojournalism. Your advisor had presented to you a great position in South America involving documenting the war on drugs and its subsequent effects. Despite Pablo Escobar’s death, this so called war remained relentless, and with your ability to capture photos that truly are worth a thousand words, your advisor knew you’d be perfect for the job.

So here you are, immersed in a beautiful country, working your dream job. It had its bad days just like anything else; but your passion and prowess made those hard days worth it.

When he finally did emerge from the government building, you shivered and it wasn’t because you were soaking wet from the rain. 

Your handbag did little to nothing to shield you from it as you held it over your head and jogged over to him.

He immediately blew you off, quickly eyeing your appearance before giving you a simple ‘no comment’ which would usually piss you off and have you press further–– however, you were left in a trancelike state by merely being in his presence.

He was more handsome than you could have imagined. You didn’t know what he looked like before arriving, solely going off the description given to you by your boss then what little his secretary had told you when you called to ask for a meeting earlier (which you were denied).

Brows cinched together in a perpetual frown, pouty lips turned downward in a scowl with chocolate brown eyes that make you miss the warmth of your hometown. 

He had taken your breath away entirely, leaving you standing there in a puddle of both rain and arousal as he darted off in the opposite direction.

That was all you needed, really, to be thrown into a pit of absolute delusion and wanton want for Javier Peña.

You watch him relentlessly. At first, it began with scouring through the archives, reading any printings that involved him, seeing his photograph on countless articles and video footage of him giving press conferences.

The more you dived in to the professional life of the agent, the more devoted you became.

Then the following started. To and from work. Late nights at the bar. While tracking down leads. You can’t help yourself, you are obsessed. Everything this man does is fascinating, further deluding you into an infatuated trance.

You don’t know where this side of you came from. You’re usually so unproblematic and independent, your sole focus being your career with little to no time to even fathom romance.

There’s just something about him that flipped this twisted switch within you, rendering you a cock-thirsty, lovestruck mess.

One night, you watched him bring another woman home and that’s when you realized how palpable your obsession had gotten. The jealousy that bubbled in your chest became unbearable. So much, that it led you to get out of your car, climb the fire escape of his luxurious apartment building, and onto his balcony.

You observed from the other side of the glass door, in the shadows, as he took this woman on his couch.

A plethora of toxic emotions swirled within you. Envy and arousal the most intense, your thighs clenching together at the sight of his bare torso against the gentle, warm light of the singular lamp that was on.

A sheen of sweat glistened over his tan skin. He is so chiseled with a softness that makes you want to run your tongue against every dip and ridge, all the way down to the enticing trail of hair that leads right to what you crave the most.

You sighed, fantasizing about being in that lucky bitch’s spot, with his hands running all over you, kneading and squeezing your curves, the scratch of his mustache having your skin curl beneath the coarser touch. You managed to control the whimper that threatened to slip up your throat in the off chance that it got you caught.

It’s not until you felt your pager in your pocket that you returned to reality, the buzz forcefully pulling you from your erotic daydream. With a final glance at their moving bodies, at him, you swiftly descended the fire escape and to the nearest phone booth.

Since that night you’ve been insatiable. You just need one taste, a small, micro dose of him to keep your hunger at bay.

It’s not until a few days later that you return to his apartment. He’s away for work in Cali (you followed him to the airport, watching him board the plane behind your thick sunglasses and a newspaper) leaving his place empty with no surveillance. You ascend the fire escape again, the city lights of the capitol twinkling in the distance. 

Slipping your gloves on, you expertly pick the lock of the balcony door before suavely entering the space. You’ve been practicing on your own at home in preparation.

It’s neat and clean. Not much personality to it which is unsurprising considering how stoic this man is. His hardened demeanor amongst the many things about him that drive you crazy. There’s never a break in his expression, always painted with typical tension and weariness.

You wonder if you could be the one who is able to crack him. To get a reaction out of that handsome face.

After surveying the entirety of the open space, you sneak down the hallway and push open the door of his bedroom.

Immediately, his smell engulfs your senses and your eyes flutter close at the scent. It’s comforting yet enticing; nothing different than what other men smell like, but there’s something about Javier specifically that you just can’t describe.

It’s so satisfying. A fucking aphrodisiac.

Walking deeper into the room, you diligently rummage through his belongings, beginning in his en suite bathroom.

With every little piece you study, you learn more about the agent. What toothpaste he uses, the brand of razors that he buys, the specific shade of blue of his towels.

Little things you wouldn’t be able to catch during your, plainly put, stalking.

Back in the room, you open the drawer that stores his shirts, your fingers running along the front of a brightly colored pink one that’s neatly folded at the top.

You imagine yourself walking around in this and nothing else, the softness of the fabric hanging from your curves, unbuttoned enough to expose the swells of your breasts, and maybe even a nipple slip to tempt him even further.

Would he think you look sexy in his clothes?

You now stand at the foot of his large bed, the window behind it casting the silver of the moonlight against the mattress tantalizingly, as if urging you to go full on goldilocks by climbing in it and pretending it’s a bed you share with him.

You stare and you stare, lower lip pinched between your teeth before you gently crawl onto it, lowering your chest so it brushes against the duvet as your nose trails up up up until it’s at his pillow, inhaling deeply as you get a more potent smell of him. 

A sweet moan pushes through your lips, your clit throbbing in tandem with your heart as you lose yourself entirely, your mind already conjuring an erotic fantasy.

Your lips against his thick neck, licking and biting the salty skin while he fucks you in missionary. The details become so vivid; that familiar furrow of his brows as he concentrates on your soaking cunt swallowing his cock, fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he praises you for taking his dick like the good little slut that you are.

You whimper, grinding your hips against the mattress, the friction delicious against your clit, while your nose remains buried in the pillow.

Deciding that you need more, you lift your head momentarily to grab one of the other cushions and then slip your jeans off; tossing them on the floor and placing the cushion between your thighs.

Positioning yourself at the perfect angle, you bring the pillow he sleeps on up to your face and begin to grind down on the one between your legs.

Drifting back to your lewd thoughts, you picture him beneath you while your hips move at a sensual pace. You know you’d take him bare, needing to feel every vein and divot… how thick he is breaking your pussy open while simultaneously molding it to fit perfectly tight around his cock.

His mouth on your bouncing breasts, nipping and sucking on your nipples while his large hand runs down to land a harsh slap against your ass cheek, groping the skin to soothe it before repeating the action again and again and again.

You move faster against the pillow, your now ruined panties only adding to the overwhelming sensation as the wet fabric rubs against your needy pussy. 

“Javier…” His name falls from your lips in a gasp when your face leaves the pillow, your body needing fresh air but you being selfish and wanting to suffocate in his scent. You know your wetness is smearing all over the pillow but you really don’t give a fuck at the moment, too caught up in your own pleasure and delusions to think of how wrong this is.

But it feels so good.

Your free hand goes under your shirt and bra to massage your sensitive tit, stomach tightening as your orgasm begins to creep up on you.

You think of his devilishly curved nose and how fucking magnificent it’d feel nudging against your clit while you ride his face. That position specifically has always made you a little nervous due to the thickness of your thighs and ass, but you just know that he would be able to handle it like the sex god that he is.

His tongue would lap over your slit hungrily, kissing your folds before wrapping his lips around the flesh of your clit and sucking hard. The phantom sensation of it is enough to get you to hump harder against the pillow and bury your face into the one in your hands once more, your cunt clenching around nothing as euphoria washes over you.

The room is filled with your muffled moans and cries of his name as you come undone, hips wildly thrusting against the cushion and your juices absolutely soak through it.

It’s an out of body experience, really, as you attempt to return back to earth.

You’ve never came that hard, especially not on your own.

Breathing heavily, you take what feels like an eternity to calm your shaking body down. Once your mind is a little clearer, you wobble off the bed and proceed to wash the pillow you just marked like a possessive cat, lounging around his apartment until you’ve made sure everything is as he left it before swiftly making your exit.

His return comes in the form of a news broadcast. You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when you hear the anchorwoman report that one of the Cali godfathers, Gilberto Rodríguez, has been arrested thanks to the joint efforts of the DEA and Search Bloc.

The kitchen knife falls from your hands and onto the cutting board as you scurry over to the boxy television set in your living room, fingers twisting the knob to increase the volume as he appears.

You’re kneeled in front of the screen, face damn near pressed up against it as you intently watch him command the room. He stands behind a podium with microphones pointed at him from every direction, cameras shuttering, an array of men on either side of him and a large crowd gathered at the front.

“I promise you… the other three godfathers will fall.”

You nod your head as if he is speaking only to you, “That’s right baby, you tell them. So hot.” 

You stand, attention still fully on the television as that familiar stir of arousal begins to heat up within you.

He’s home and your resolve is wearing thin. Thin enough that you decide to say fuck it.

You need another taste.

Dinner is long forgotten as you go to your room, pulling open the closet and grabbing a solid black box from the top shelf.

You purchased this little number when your fantasies had begun. Wearing it around your apartment while you teased yourself, roleplaying him coming home after a long work trip and using your pussy to help him forget the horrors of his job.

Using a realistic looking dildo, you imagined it to be the man of your dreams while you fucked yourself with it in a myriad of positions.

The outfit is simple. A short, black leather dress with a corset bust and sheer sleeves that cover your shoulders and arms, doing a great job of making you look sexy. The skirt falls at your upper thigh, exposing your nylon clad legs paired with simple black heels. You slip on your mesh gloves, your red acrylics popping against the black, almost see through material.

The ensemble looks divine against your skin but you feel like something is missing. Taking one, long look at your face you realize that you’re not ready to fully reveal yourself to him, so you turn back to your closet and your eyes light up once you see the cat mask you wore to a costume party not that long ago.

You smirk at the idea.

A sexy little cat burglar. Breaking in to take what she wants.

Putting it on, your reflection stares back at you and you feel like a whole different person. The corset cinches your waist just right, your thighs curvy and inviting beneath the stockings, tits pressed together and almost spilling out the top.

The lacy mask covers half your face, leaving your glossy lips exposed with cute kitten ears at the top. 

You’d fuck yourself, honestly. This new wave of confidence does nothing but fuel your determination.

Walking over to the opposite side of your room, you tilt your head up to take in the shrine of photos you’ve made of him.

Most come from you and your camera, all those days you spent watching him and documenting his every move. Others are from newspapers then there’s some messy sketches you did out of boredom.

Your finger comes up to trace his sharp features on one of the pictures, lingering on his nose and your pussy tingles as you breathe out a wistful sigh.

You can’t wait to try him.

Throwing on a black trench coat, you leave your apartment and take the familiar route to his. It’s raining, but not harsh enough to spoil your plans. Just a light drizzle.

When you arrive, your heart sinks at the fact that he isn’t home yet. Of course. He was just on TV! You hadn’t really thought this plan all the way through, absolutely blinded by your desire.

Whatever, you take the time to touch up on your makeup and fix your hair. The night presses on until finally you see his jeep coming down the road and pulling into the garage of the building.

With a final look over in your rearview mirror, you exit the car and cross the street to make your way up the familiar ladder, careful not to slip against the slick surface with the heels you have on.

Thankfully there’s no one out tonight, and if there was you aren’t sure how the hell you’d explain what you’re doing. You don’t even know how to explain it to yourself.

The butterflies in your stomach wildly flutter once you make it to his balcony, rain droplets adorn the glass door and you crouch to keep yourself hidden.

He walks in not long after, looking exhausted as ever as he pulls his tie loose around his neck and tosses his keys into a small bowl at the entryway table. His expensive dress shoes are kicked off, suit jacket slipping from shoulders revealing how broad he is. You bite your lip.

He stalks across the apartment, not even glancing in your direction, unbuttoning part of his shirt and rolling up the sleeves. His figure is a little blurry due to the condensation on the door but you don’t care, you’re under his spell as you watch him pour himself a glass of whiskey.

Wetting your lips, you can almost taste the spicy liquor as he drinks it in one shot before pouring himself another. Except this time it’s on the rocks.

Would the ice make his lips cool? Surely. A shiver dances down your spine at the thought of them pressed against your heated skin. 

The orange street light casts softly into the space, the shadows sharpening his features and making him look more rugged and masculine and just downright fuckable. You want to so badly break through the glass and take a seat on that chiseled jaw, to have him harshly grip your ass as you fuck yourself on his tongue.

He disappears down the hallway and into his office, giving you the opportunity to sneak in like last time. You give yourself one final pep talk before fully committing, slipping off the trench coat and tossing it aside.

After picking the lock, you very diligently and quietly slide the door open and enter, shutting it behind you.

Just like the cat burglar you pretend to be, you suavely follow his trail down the hallway, leaving a wet trail of your own from the rain, stopping at the cracked door of his office.

You see him hunched over his wooden desk, back facing you, deep in thought at whatever documents lay sprawled against the surface.

His back muscles tense with every subtle move he makes, your dark eyes taking him in entirely from his slutty little waist to the curls at the nape of his neck.

You can tell he’s been frustratingly running his fingers through his hair since it’s sticking up in some places, making it look so sexily tousled.

You want to tug on it, run your fingertips against his scalp while he devours you whole.

So lost in your observance of him, you don’t catch the moan that escapes you and his head snaps up at the sound. 

Your eyes widen and you take a delicate step back, still watching as he reaches for the gun that’s nestled against his lower back.

Trying not to make too much noise, you make your way further down the hall and into his bedroom, heart in your throat as you climb into his bed, laying on your side with your body weight propped up on one hand as you anticipate his presence.

This is it. This is what you’ve been dreaming of since the moment you laid eyes on him.

The first thing you see is the silver tip of his pistol as the door opens further, then he comes fully into view with that goddamn scowl on his face that makes your skin tingle.

His breath hitches once he lays eyes on you, large hands squeezing the weapon as you sexily wave at him.

“Hello agent.”

Your sweet voice fills the space, the muted sound of the weather picking up outside serving as the perfect white noise to set the ambiance for this scene.

“Who the fuck are you and how the hell did you get in here?”

Oh, his voice. So smooth yet raspy like the whiskey and cigarettes he can’t live without.

“An admirer that saw you took down one of the godfathers and decided to come thank you in person.”

His gaze narrows, gun lowering slightly as he contemplates whether you’re a threat or not.

You are, but not in the way that he thinks.

“How did you get in?”

“That’s a trick I’m going to have to keep to myself.”

You shift your body, moving to rest on your knees and you watch as his eyes lustfully trace the contours of your figure. You’re absolutely keening beneath the heaviness of his stare, loving the fact that you have his undivided attention.

It doesn’t even worry you that he’s got a fully loaded gun pointed right at your pretty face. If anything, it just turns you on even more.

“What do you want?”

“I already told you. To thank you in person.” Your eyes roll and his jaw tightens.

“Thank me in person?” He echoes your words with a dry chuckle, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Let me show you.” Your tone is hushed and dripping with suggestion, slipping off the bed slowly and sensually.

You watch his adam’s apple bob at your change of position, letting him see you in your full get up, watching intently as his eyes land on a different part of your body with every second that passes.

“Drop the gun, Javier.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I could do right now.”

You cock your head to the side, eyes narrowing behind the mask as you contemplate your next move.

He’s standing on the rug that’s spread out against the wooden floor which gives you an idea.

“Please? I’m not going to hurt you.” You whine with a pout, beginning to lower yourself to the ground as if showing him your unwavering submission.

The seconds that tick by feel like hours as you attentively take each other in. Then you hear it, your ears twitching at the faint sound of the safety switching on and it’s enough to spur you into action.

You don’t know where this newfound strength comes from, probably the adrenaline you feel of simply existing in the same room as him. You yank the rug, causing him to lose his footing as he falls onto his back with a loud thud, the gun slipping from his grasp and sliding across the floor.

He groans out in pain but you don’t care, pulling him closer, then fully on your knees as you begin to crawl over to him.

“I told you to put the gun down.” 

He’s still on his back, making no attempt to move as you draw closer. He does lean up on his forearms, dark eyes fixed on you, watching as you shuffle on your hands and knees until you plant your hands on his shins and work your way up.

You barely graze the hardening bulge in his pants, causing him to shudder, and white heat licks at your core knowing that in this moment; he wants you too.

The two of you don’t break eye contact as you straddle him, gloved hands falling on his pecs.

“I’m not usually like this…” you begin in a gentle murmur, running your open palms anywhere you can, relishing in feeling his taut body beneath yours after fantasizing about it for so long, “Shit, it’s like news to me, but I can’t ignore my heart anymore.”

One of your hands wraps around his tie, tugging on it harshly until you’re nose to nose with the man that’s been living in your head rent free for the past few weeks.

His lust blown, brown eyes search yours, as if trying to discern your identity which you assume he’ll never figure out. You’ve only ever had that one interaction and even then he had barely paid you any attention.

You feel his breath fanning across your mouth, so badly do you want to press your lips against his but you suppress the urge.

You continue to play with him, enjoying this sense of power you have with how compliant he’s being.

You expected for him to be fully dominant, which you know he’s capable of being since you watched him fuck the shit out of that one girl. But it seems like this, your taboo act and the suddenness of it, is affecting him in an entirely different way.

You put pressure against your palms, having him lay flat on his back and you hover over him, taking in all the small details of his charming face.

The frown lines, hairs of his mustache, blemishes and faint scars. Every little detail making you fall harder and harder for him. He has no idea just how much he means to you.

“What game are you playing at here, gatita?” He gives in, entranced by this enigma of a woman that’s perched over him. His calloused hands grip at your outer thighs, blunt fingernails almost ripping the fabric of your stockings.

You hum at his touch, loving the sound of the pet name, gently rocking on his lap and clutching his shirt in your fists.

“One where you’re the prize, handsome.”

You lean forward, sticking your tongue out and slowly licking a broad stripe from his chin all the way to the tip of his nose, curling your tongue when you flick at it.

His chest vibrates with a groan and you smirk at the feeling of his cock twitching underneath his pants.

“You looked so good on the news tonight. I couldn’t help myself.”

You undo his tie, toying with the notion of wrapping it around his wrists to detain him, but with what you have planned on doing to him tonight, you’d rather keep his hands accessible. 

Maybe next time.

You toss the silky fabric aside to focus on unbuttoning his shirt. He does nothing but remain silent, his chest heaving up and down while he suppresses the primal urge to take over and fuck this sweet little thing that’s dropped herself on his lap.

And you know he’s more than capable of switching the roles. He’s strong and skilled, could easily flip you onto your back and proceed to exert his dominance over you.

But you’re the one with the grand plan here, not him, and he’s indulging in your shared fantasy by letting you do whatever it is that you want, lost in a horny daze of his own.

The silence is comfortable and it further builds the sexual tension. You finish getting his shirt undone, opening it wider to get a better look at his toned body.

“So hot. You drive me crazy, agent.” You’re so wet, the slickness of your arousal seeping through the flimsy material of your thong smears against his fancy dress pants.

“Y tú, kitten, look like something out of a wet fucking dream. I have to be dreaming.”

You giggle, blushing at his words as some coyness slips into your facade.

“You’re not dreaming. I promise you.” 

Leaning down once more, you begin to leave wet kisses against the cut of his jaw, suckling on the warm skin then running your nose along the length of his neck.

You take in a deep breath, smelling his cologne atop of his sweat and natural scent and you feel so high. 

No amount of cocaine comes close to how Javier Peña makes you feel.

You suck a love bite against a protruding vein in his neck, a grunt pushing past his lips at the sensation of your teeth grazing the skin. 

Satisfied with your possessive marking, you lick from his jaw all the way up to his ear, biting down on the lobe.

“Now I’m going to taste you.” You purr seductively, leaning back to look down at his absolutely wrecked face.

His puppy eyes stare up at you like you’re the only woman in the world, a goddess that’s decided to bestow such an erotic experience onto him. He knows you’re about to ruin his body for any other woman that comes after you.

You decide to be a little theatrical, slowly pulling off your gloves to reveal your pretty hands and fresh manicure.

He can’t help but bring his large hand up to grasp your wrist, pulling your hand closer to his face as he studies your nails before gently nipping at your fingers, then slipping two digits into his mouth, running his tongue all over them and sucking them softly.

You gasp at the sensation, not breaking eye contact while he smirks at your reaction. Suddenly, lighting strikes and the room is illuminated for a split second in the white light. 

You both look so feral, suspended in this vivacious moment.

Pulling your hand away, you let it drag down his pouty bottom lip, pinching the delicate skin before shuffling back on his lap.

You hover again, this time at eye level with his chest as you place soft kisses against his brown skin, tongue peering out to lick his pecs then down his soft tummy.

His hips buck involuntarily and you pull back, tilting your head to the side as you look down at him.

“Stay still or this little kitten is going to find someone else to play with.”

A litany of curses fall from his lips in both English and Spanish, but you pay it no mind, your attention on his belt as you unbuckle it then pop the button of his dress pants.

Leaning down, you bring your face until it’s right at his crotch and you catch the metallic zipper between your teeth.

Slowly pulling it down, your eyes flit up to him and he’s intently watching you, his own tongue hanging from his mouth like a dog in anticipation of what you’re about to do.

You press your nose into the fabric of his now exposed boxers, nuzzling your face against his erection and his breath catches in his throat.

Your wetness managed to penetrate through his pants and onto his boxers, so you kitten lick your arousal from him and he lets out a guttural moan.

Basking in the sounds of his pleasure, you continue until there’s a giant wet spot on the cotton.

Deciding that it’s time you get what you came here for, your fingers hook at the band of his bottoms, dragging them down to his mid thigh and he assists you by lifting his hips.

His cock is so fucking big. Your eyes widen at the sight as it rests against his left thigh.

It’s thick, like you imagined, with ridges and veins that are begging to be traced by the tip of your tongue.

The color of it is a little darker than the rest of his body, the weeping tip plush and leaking with excessive precum from your foreplay. It’s cut with a subtle curve, long enough to where you know if he angles it just right; he’d bruise the fuck out of your cervix.

“Mmm,” you hum, licking your lips like a woman who has been starved for far too long.

“¿Que pasó, nena? Cat got your tongue?” This asshole, teasing you as if he’s not the one at your mercy.

But is that really the truth? One would observe that you’re the one at his mercy; considering your obsession with the DEA agent.

“It just looks so delicious,” you purr, bringing your hand to hover your face.

Meeting his gaze, you seductively lick your palm, wetting it with your saliva before wrapping it around his throbbing length.

“Mierda,” he hisses, head dropping back against the hardwood floor as you begin to pump him in languid motions, getting a feel for what he likes. Attuned.

His flesh feels warm and smooth beneath your smaller hand, your thumb swipes over his tip as you collect some of his precum.

You bring it up to your lips, sucking it into your mouth and you whimper at the taste. Salty, heady, intoxicating.

You need more.

Your hand leaves his cock as you position yourself in between his strong thighs. His dick stands erect, waiting for you to lavish it in your attention.

Leaning down, you poke your tongue out to run one long, broad stripe from his balls all the way up to his head.

He shudders, fists clenching at his sides while his slit spurts out more precum.

“I got you all wet, baby.” you gloat with a gentle laugh, repeating the motion a few more times.

Each groan of his and twitch of his body influences you to keep going, placing open mouthed kisses all over his base then up and down his cock. Making out with it.

You let a wad of spit fall over his tip and watch as it drips down obscenely over his length, bringing your hand back to pump him a little faster with a tighter grip. Your saliva drips from in between your knuckles. 

“That’s it, gatita, just like that pretty girl.” He’s getting more vocal now and you’re intoxicated, drunk off his praise.

You slap the fat head of his cock against your pursed lips a few times before letting your tongue lap at the slit then sinfully lick around the tip. 

Your tongue continues its assault on his girth, lapping every inch of it like he’s a refreshing mango popsicle on a hot summer day.

The attention is then shifted on his balls as you continue to jerk him, the tip of your muscle outlining the sensitive skin before you suck one into your mouth softly.

“Puta madre, bebita, esa boquita feels like fucking heaven.”

You whimper, nuzzling your nose against his sack and taking in his musky smell. Your mouth waters, drool leaking from the corners as you reposition yourself back over his hard cock.

You part your lips, taking him slowly, inch by inch as you savor the weight of him inside your hot mouth. Your hand remains at his base while you swallow him whole, tongue lapping around the bits that it can reach.

It’s not until you feel him tickle the back of your throat that you pull back slightly, sucking your cheeks in and beginning to set a slow pace.

Up, down, up, down.

He’s so fucking big, you’re not able to take him fully down your throat… yet. You’re gonna need a moment to break open your mouth enough to fit him.

He continues with his praises. The sweet filth that fills your ears urging you to be a good girl and to suck his cock like your life depends on it.

Because it does. All you want to do is lose yourself in him, to become nothing more than just Javier’s plaything.

Tears pool at your tear ducts from the messy head you’re giving but it doesn’t deter you. You just blink them away and take him further down your throat.

You splutter and gag as he presses against your uvula, causing him to inadvertently bring his hand down to the back of your head, fisting your hair.

You wince but the pain feels delicious on your scalp. You pull away and his saliva coated cock falls from your swollen lips with a trail of spit connecting you two.

“I want you to fuck my face, Javier. Can you do that for me?”

You bat your lashes, biting on your lower lip as you look up at him.

Your back is arched sexily, giving him a good view of your ass behind you as you remain on your knees in between his legs.

“Si, gatita, whatever you want.”

He gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding you back to his cock.

He slips back into your mouth easily, his hips bucking upward to fully bury himself down your throat.

You breathe through your nose as he begins to set the pace, much harsher and faster than what you’ve been doing on your own.

The filthy sounds of his groans mixed with your gagging and squelching of your mouth fill the room and it’s like music to your ears.

You fucking love this. Love the way he’s fucking your throat and using it to get himself off.

His other hand falls down to tenderly caress your cheek, cupping your jaw and that sets off an explosion of fireworks against your needy pussy, moving your hips against nothing. The simple act is enough to get you closer to your own orgasm.

Your fingernails dig into his meaty thighs when he manages to fully situate himself into your mouth, the tip of your nose brushing against his coarse pubic hairs.

He keeps you there, depriving you of oxygen and your jaw aches with how it’s been widely unhinged for the past however long.

You don’t care about your pain, you only care about tasting his cum when he finally releases inside of you.

“I’m so close baby, god damn it I could die in this pretty little mouth. Such a filthy whore, breaking into my apartment just so you can suck my cock.”

You whimper, the sound vibrating around his shaft and you bring one of your hands down beneath your skirt and panties, rubbing tight circles against your engorged clit.

He goes back to thrusting in and out of your throat while you pleasure yourself; both of you teetering on the precipice of your respective orgasms.

The hold on the back of your head tightens as his climax begins to peak, and the tension of it is enough to send you over the edge first.

You splutter and groan all over his cock while you cum, your release coating your fingers and dripping down your folds and onto your inner thighs.

“Fuck I’m about to come. You better swallow every fucking drop gatita. Isn’t that what you came here for? Ah-shit, to milk my cock like the perverted bitch that you are?”

If you hadn’t come already, you would be now with his abrasive words and rougher thrusts of his hips.

“I bet, fuuuck, bet that pussy tastes so fucking sweet and feels as heavenly as this mouth. Ay gatita sucia, you gonna let me destroy your tight little cunt or are you going to leave me with just a taste of your boquita?”

You want to respond, to tell him that you want nothing more than to have his cock split you open, to render you a mess that can’t walk for days after getting fucked hard by him.

His thrusts stagger and he comes with a primitive growl, his hot seed spilling into your mouth and down your throat.

You moan at the feeling and he holds you flush against his pelvis while he empties his balls into you.

When he’s finally drained, you tentatively let him fall from your mouth with a lewd pop, some of his spend still resting on your tongue.

You climb up his body again, noticing the bead of sweat dripping from the tip of his brow and down his chiseled cheek. His lips are swollen, much like yours, from chewing on it due to the intensity of your ministrations.

His dark eyes are swimming with lust and adoration, shallow breaths exhaling from his nostrils.

You open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out so he can see his milky cum against the pink muscle before you retract it and swallow exaggeratedly, smirking as you bring the back of your hand up to wipe the saliva and other fluids that coat the bottom half of your face.

“Thank you for keeping us safe from the narcos, agent.” You whisper, reaching for your gloves to slip them back on.

He watches intently before he raises the hand that had just cupped your cheek affectionately to the edge of your mask, beginning to lift it up to expose your identity.

“¿Quien eres, gatita?”

You stop him by grasping his wrist harshly, shaking your head.

“Un secreto,” you whisper back, close enough to where your lips are softly brushing against each other.

Moving his hand away from your face, your eyes gaze into his one final time before you lean in to press a sweet kiss against his lips. 

It’s everything you dreamed of and more, the feeling of his mouth slotting against yours in the most passionate kiss you’ve ever shared with anyone.

You pull back before things get heated again, your mission now complete until the next time.

“I’m going to leave now,” you begin in a hushed tone, “and you’re going to stay right here. You’re not going to follow me out or stop me. Are we clear?”

Another tilt of your head and you can see the resistance in his stare, how badly he wants to keep you here like a pet. His kitten.

But he nods ever so slightly.

“Will I see you again?”

Yes, but you don’t reveal this to him so easily.

“Only if you do something worth warranting a visit.”

With that, you rise from his lap, your long legs on either side of his waist as you look down upon this man you just wrecked without giving him your name or letting him get a good look at your face.

His eyes trail over you, trying to etch the image of you in his mind for the lonely days that are about to come.

He won’t forget you, that’s for sure. You’re about to infiltrate his mind in the same manner in which he infiltrated yours.

The soft click of your heels can be heard as you depart from his bedroom, leaving him with his soft cock out and pants down his legs.

Before closing the bedroom door behind you, you stop and look at him over your shoulder.

“Goodnight agent.”

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow before he scrambles to get up, grunting at the subtle pain in his back as he tucks himself back into his pants and picks his gun up to place on the dresser.

He follows your wet trail down the hallway and to the glass door of his balcony that you purposefully left cracked; an answer to his earlier question.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

He smirks when he sees the heart shape you’ve left against the surface. 

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car Au part 14

So, it has been a week, and it feels like when you wake up from an unplanned 30 minute nap and have to ask 'What year is it?' While feeling like you have been run over by a whole procession of clowns, clown cars, and maybe a camel for good measure. Granted, that may be from the ragweed that is pollinating like crazy, but oh well... new part!

THIS IS YOUR WARNING! SWEAR WORDS! Plenty of cursing ahead! You have been warned!

Previous. Masterpost

It had been over 24 hours since Jason saw Danny. The most troubling thing was, there were no whispers of a trafficking group in that area. He couldn't fathom what had happened to the kid. Barbara couldn't find the kid on her cameras either, so he might need to go to the cave and look at the Batmobile himself. The footage Babs pulled were just as corrupted as the ally cameras were. Maybe the kid built himself a little jamming device, wouldn't be his first strangely useful creation. Whether or not he had a jamming device, he was still missing and none of the other street kids had seen him. He knew they were probably not harboring him with the bounty for finding Danny being as lucrative as it was. Jason knew offering to cook 3 meals a day for a week would get all of his street kids looking, some adults too.

Jason was a little surprised to see Duke looking at the Batmobile's underside when he drove in. Normally only Bruce and Jason worked on the cars since they had the most hands-on experience with them. Case in point, Duke had the car up on the lift with the front doors open. Did he have to sit Duke down and go through safety in maintenance 101? Maybe he could borrow little Timmy's version “The importance of Maintenance Safety: Or why you don't let Megan write safety plans.” It would hit all the important bits and sear the information in with neon yellow and blue comic sans font.

“So, Glowstick, mind telling me why the fuck you are trying to get yourself crushed?” Jason growled at the kid, the helmet making it even more menacing.

Duke gave Jason an unimpressed look. “B got a stick up his ass and thinks I somehow was involved with the Batmobile running weirdly." Duke sneered as he continued. "Last night when Red Robin activated his emergency beacon, the lead goon got in it and ran over some of his goons. The fail safes for theft didn't activate. Somehow, it was my fault. Perks to being the closest non-injured, I guess.”

Jason was surprised at the bitterness the usually sunshine-y kid had.

“Well, good news, we can swap for a bit, and I can teach you properly how to maintain this beast.” Jason offered.

“Why are you so interested?”

“I can't be nice?”

“You are here willingly, and no, you usually are not ‘nice’. So what is it?”

Jason was not expecting such hostility from Duke, but if Bruce had his panties in a twist and took it out on Duke, he could forgive some of the bite. Couldn't hurt to get Duke in on his hunt for Danny anyway.

“I… need help. One of my guys mentioned they bet a kid, named Danny, some money to put a sticker on the Batmobile. No one has seen the kid after entering the alley where the car was parked. Oracle said the cameras were corrupted at the time the kid was there with it. Figured I would check the car for clues.”

“Oh…. Sure.”

They both looked at the undercarriage of the car in silence before Jason gave a snort.

“The kid really did put a sticker on the oil pan. That is hilarious.”

Sure enough there was a Green Arrow sticker, one where he had his arms crossed and looking smug as all hell, positioned in such a way that eluded that when the oil was drained it would look like Green Arrow was pissing.

“That is amazing, if you find the kid let me give them a high-five for that. What does he look like anyway?”

“Adoption bait, pretty much a mini me with a more ‘polite’ mouth.” Jason was sure Duke could hear his smile when talking about the kid.

“No shit? You with manners? I don't think I can imagine that from a Alley Rat.” Duke teased.

“Watch it Narrows, us Alley Rats are all a little rabid.” Jason found himself teasing back before sniffing. “Besides, Alfie would have my head if I didn't have some manners.”

They went back into a more comfortable silence while working, Jason took to looking through the center, hoping to find some sort of clue of a struggle if Danny got nabbed. Duke was focusing on the engine compartment and any wirings that he could follow. It was rather relaxing until Duke went to move some rubber piping to get a closer look at a relay.

Neither person expected the car to shudder and produce a kind of creepy giggle. Duke froze and Jason reacted by tackling him away from the car and pulling one of his guns at the Batmobile.

“What in the ever loving fuck?” Jason screamed, the Batmobile responded with its own car alarm going off.

“Don't shoot! I'm sorry, I didn't expect that to happen, we are still trying to figure things out!” Duke had jumped back up and put himself in front of Jason, waving his hands and trying to keep attention on him.

“We? What the fuck Narrows?!”

“Just, both of you, stop! Hood, gun down, Car dude, stop the alarm. Please.” Duke all but whined the last word in desperation.

Jason took a Very deep breath, and growled out in the now silent cave.

“Car. Dude?”

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[woso-dreamzzz]

Pet Problems V

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: It's adoption day for the last of the kittens

"Ale," You said, your phone already recording," What are we doing today?"

Alexia looked up at the camera with a sour look on her face. "We're going to work."

You rolled your eyes. "What else are we doing?"

She looked off to the side at the cat carriers piled up by the door. "We're taking the last kittens to their new homes." She pouted and you had to smother your laugh.

You moved around the kitchen table and pressed a kiss to her lips before refilling Nala's water bowl, leaving the tap running so Kiara could drink from the running water (a terrible habit that she already had when you first got her).

Last time, you let Alexia sort the kittens out but she looked so positively heartbroken that you let her off and did it yourself, placing each one into a carrier and zipping them up.

"Okay, Kiara," You said as she crossed the room, nudging your leg with her muzzle," You be good, alright? We'll be back later."

"I don't think it is Kiara we should worry about," Alexia said, shrugging on her jacket as she joined you, eyes glancing off to the side where Marie sat on the coffee table, absentmindedly batting at Nala every time the dog walked past.

You rolled your eyes. "Come on," You said," You've got practice and I've got content to shoot."

●～●～●～●～

You peeled off from Alexia as soon as you got to the training centre, taking custody of the kittens as she headed to the locker room.

"Oh, y/n," One of your coworkers cooed when she saw you approach," They're absolutely darling."

You sent her a lopsided grin. "They are, aren't they? Kiara makes pretty babies."

"But they're her last, aren't they?" A fellow photographer teased.

You nodded. "Oh, yeah. Alexia did not cope well with the birth, worrywart that she is."

"I heard she wasn't too happy about giving these little ones away too."

"She cried last night," You confirmed," And the night before we handed some over to her mother as well. I don't think she could handle it if this happened again."

Your coworkers all laughed before finally settling down to review the media footage from a few days ago.

The kittens stayed in your office for the whole day, roaming around the closed room and soaking in the affection from your team before you settled them all back in their carriers and headed out onto the pitch as soon as Alexia texted that practice was over.

"Special delivery!" You called out to the girls as you approached.

A swarm of bodies hurried over, Mapi and Patri at the very front. Next came Ingrid and Frido, at a more sedate pace but the excitement palpable and then everyone else.

"We get to take them home?!" Patri exclaimed in excitement, looking between you and Alexia in wonder.

"Yep," You said," These two are yours." You passed over one of the carriers - the one that held two solid orange kittens, one girl and one boy.

"For Mapi and Ingrid." You passed over the carrier to Ingrid - much to the annoyance of Mapi who sent you a sour look before it disappeared when Ingrid took out their new ginger tabby, cradling him in her arms.

"And for Frido."

She received the last girl of the litter, cooing affectionately to the little baby and immediately whipping out her phone to facetime her boyfriend.

"Patri," Alexia said warningly," Be careful. They're only little."

Patri rolled her eyes. "I know, Ale. You made me write you an essay on cat care before you even considered letting me have them. I know what to do."

You laughed incredulously, turning to your girlfriend. "You made her write an essay?

"I had to know she was trustworthy." There wasn't an ounce of regret in Alexia's eyes.

"And you didn't make Mapi?"

"Mapi is a proven cat owner," She shrugged," Regardless of the fact that Bagheera has his balls. Besides, Ingrid would keep her in line."

"And Frido?"

She levelled you with a look that clearly read 'Are-you-serious'. "Frido is probably the most trustworthy person on this team."

You laughed again, rolling your eyes as she looped her arm around your waist. "Are you going to cry again?"

"No," She said proudly," I know that I'll see them soon. The girls and the babies are coming round this weekend."

"They are?"

"Yes, they are."

She began to walk off, leaving you scrambling to follow. She sped up her pace until she was running, laughing at you as you sprinted after her.

"Come on, y/n! We've got our own kitten to get home to!"

[casuallyanidiot]

part 2 of yandere model please 🥺🙏

Tw. For mentions of sex, dubcon, and surveilance

Yandere model, known as Caspian to his fans and most of the modeling world, has been keeping you locked up in his luxury penthouse for god only knows how many days.

It wasn't too bad, in all honesty. Besides the whole being locked up part, you had free reign of his house, and even access to the internet. Though, it was heavily monitored and restricted as you quickly found out after you attempted to log into a social media account to ask for help. Caspian had sent a barrage of messages, the computer crashed, and you weren't allowed to leave your room for two or three days after that.

Something you noticed was the cameras that were set up in every crook and corner that you could possibly think of. You felt a coil of anxiety whenever you caught sight of a blinking light in the corner of your eye. It was even worse when you realized that there were at least five separate little lenses in the bathroom. You shuddered to think of what exactly he used the footage for. He would come to you everyday after work and tell you all about the shows, auditions, and meetings he attended with a small smile.

"I saw you ate that new flavor of yogurt I got you! Good job, honey. It's healthier for you than that old slop you used to have in your fridge," He laughed and stroked your hair as the two of you lounged in bed. "Oh, and I love that pair of panties on you. Can I see them? They looked so cute when I saw them on screen," He chuckled and kissed your cheek, his fingers playing with the loose elastic waistband of your sweatpants.

He was such a creep.

Another thing you came across was the fact that you never realized how much Caspian credited you for his career before this whole ordeal either. He had basically given you a bit of homework to do.

"Every day while I'm out, you need to watch at least three clips of me on the runway," He instructed, much to your confusion. It was just so odd of a request to make to what was essentially a captive. "I'll know if you haven't," He added quickly, an odd, giddy lilt filling his words. It was like he was excited to cause you discomfort, to know that you felt anything for him at all.

You watched him on screen daily. You studied his poses, his gait, and his facial features out of sheer boredom. When he would come home, Caspian would snuggle into your arms and chatter excitedly about the shows and commercials you'd seen.

"What did you think of my poses for the jewelry brand? Hm? You know honey, I was thinking of how you'd look in all those pretty gems. That's how I got so into the role there...Oh! And see how I was strutting in this one? How angry I looked? That's me thinking of how mad I would be if you ever tried to leave me haha! You're my muse (y/n)!"

You tried not to think about it too hard. You tried not to linger on the fact that it was like every move he made was part of some elaborate, hidden worship of your love and relationship that he had conjured up from nearly the moment you met. It was like he couldn't do what he did if he didn't have you.

Maybe the worst part about living with Caspian, if you could even call it that, was that he pretended like this was somehow normal. He bought you a slew of makeup products, all high quality and from luxury brands, and presented a basket of new products to you everyday.

"Here! For you to practice with!" He beamed and pushed another round of expensive goods that you could only dream of touching when you were a newer Makeup artist on the scene. You picked them up gingerly with narrowed eyes as if they would burn you if you held them too long. For Caspian, you doing makeup, either on him or yourself, was like a nostalgic, sweet callback to the first time the two of you met back at a less than respectable fashion show that the two of you had been paid pennies to work at.

At the time, the you were so fresh faced and eager to get any gigs you could. Maybe if you hadn't been so career hungry, you could've maybe questioned why you were being booked to high end events all of a sudden. Maybe you could've stepped back and noticed his hungry eyes on you, or the fact that you never seemed to get any jobs without him. That's why you knew he didn't actually care about your happiness.

If he cared, he wouldn't be chasing your admiration, approval and affection all while gifting you what was essentially a slap in the face.

Your job, your life, your individuality wasn't as important to him as owning you was, and you felt that every time you applied lipstick to his perfectly shaped mouth. He shuddered under your touch, and you always kept your gaze even. To him, everything you had done before he had pinned you down, kissed you, and knocked you out backstage at a show was just him allowing you to play and pretend at being free. At being successful. At ever being without him.

The realest you that you could be, according to Caspian, was in his lap, in his home, lavishing over his face exactly as you had when you first met.

[tomwaterbabies]

disneyland happenings

featuring varian and hugo. since thats what our costumes were

^(us trying to be very spooky) (there is a lot below btw lol)

someone asking if i (dressed as hugo) was from atlantis. surprisingly this only happened once

we went to kingdom hearts mickey first bc that was gonna be a popular one the rest of the night. the idea of varian in kingdom hearts is definitely really funny. i do not go here im just being honest

OH. new addition to the costume. i had olivia with me as a shoulder friend

met bruno from encanto who commented on her. we talked about our rodent friends he was very nice. he said he brought "all 200" of his rats with him and wanted to help feed them and knows mickey is a big mouse so maybe we could ask him. i said we could just steal some food. varian got mad

went over to see sid from toy story because he seemed like a mean little bitch. he was a mean little bitch. i may have said that his creations could use a little work but thats no reason for him to say "your mouse needs a little work" and "i hope you kept the receipt".... cunt

laughing about how mother gothel was no longer part of the characters to meet. "they killed her forever this time" etc etc

watching the parade and varian almost jumping out of his skin when mother gothel was in the parade. her ghost

we went to this thing called villain's grove which was a bunch of light and effects n stuff through their little forest area. it was mostly a cool immersive experience so most of the footage is on the Lights And Effects Themselves but here's a few of us that look cool lol. gay tunnel (maybe not) (that segment was themed after frollo)

met hans from frozen. we absolutely had no clue he was going to be there it was pretty funny. you may guess that my friend @kristoffs-lullaby (varian cosplayer) is a frozen enjoyer. so we hopped in line to see him

hans asked if varian's alchemy balls were some sort of magic or enchantment and you'll Never guess what varian responded with

though explaining its alchemy and science and all that didnt really make him feel better. he even asked if its something that would be in danger of bringing in an "eternal winter". varian did not like that :)

saw dr. doofenshmirtz (?) i didnt watch that show. he was pretty fun to meet though. i know some people dont like his creepy ass design, but i do, its fun and weird to me. he wanted to collaborate with me and varian since we're scientists. really funny to have him say "i'll have my people call your people". a possible strange message that rapunzel will get later /j

also encountered hades. though our friend @iammisswow was with us and so i had him focus on her since shes a big hercules fan. the visual was hugo getting this scary man's attention to be put on someone else by calling her out. it worked obviously. "oh SHE is a HUGE fan of hercules"

madam mim from sword in the stone didnt really have as big of a crowd so we actually talked with her a pretty good amount. shes SO fun. lots of discussion about magic vs science and how she thinks knowledge is stupid. you can imagine how we of all people felt when she said "KNOWLEDGE is not power, MAGIC is power". she also liked olivia (she thought she was a familiar)

meeting judge doom from roger rabbit was kind of scary LOL. very intimidating man. but his area had vats of chemicals and all that so you can imagine we had fun with that. WE can be trusted. obviously.

nervously just nodding our heads as judge doom tells us to come to him if we have any information regarding where "that rabbit is" (we are not doing that)

and also we saw ernesto de la cruz from coco. we were actually able to catch him right as he started performing which is rad but i dont actually have any interactions to tell u about here it was bad ass though

and, unbeknownst to Hugo (as in i also didnt know about this), varian had a surprise for him. he had a whole... horribly genuine and flustery spiel to say about messing around in his lab and all that and made something for hugo. which was a necklace with a piece of colored glass-like material (teal) in the shape of a heart. hugo handled that whole situation really well (lie)

ANYWAYS ! that's it. i've mentioned before but Disneyland Trips will be retired really soon since I'm not too fond of a lot of their wack shit right now, but wanted to share some of the last bit of enjoyable times to be had there before that happens

[mayhemories]

reader x Neteyam not established (or Lo’ak) where reader jokes about finding Jake hot and Neteyam changes his hair to look more like his father 🤪 they goofy enough to take it too literally for REAL

Like Father, Like Son

Ok so, I know this was probs supposed to be goofy, funny, ha-ha (would've been goofy, funny ha-ha if it was Lo'ak vers.) but I can't write Neteyam without it being sweet bc he's just a sweet boy!! Hope this is still okay for you Nonnie <3 Also! I wrote this in the airport waiting for my flight jet lagged af with 2 hours of sleep

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none, just fluff. Kinda cringe and spicy if you squint

Words: 2.2k

Author’s Notes: 

Neteyam is 21, reader is 21. Lo’ak and Kiri are roughly 20ish. I’m gonna estimate Tuk is 7 or 8?

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Read Below the Cut:

“Hi kids!” Dr Max greeted you all, reaching for a fist pump with Lo’ak and Neteyam. Kiri made her ‘hello’s’ rather quick, as she rushed to Dr Augastine’s canister. Kiri found the time with her mother sacred, which you could understand. You often wished you had something physical of your own mother left, rather than just the Tree of Voices, but you knew Eywa had blessed the Na’vi in giving them that. And, you were happy for your best friend that she could watch her mother’s video logs. Although, sometimes you worried that Kiri would talk back to them, that she pretended to have a conversation with Grace with the same recordings. 

“Lo’ak, Neteyam, check it out, kids!” Norm said as he walked over to the three of you, a screen in his hand. “I’ve dug up some of Jake’s old footage and memories we extracted during the avatar program.”  Lo’ak snatched the screen from Norm’s tiny human hands. Flicking through the photos and videos of Toruk Macto, Olo’eyktan Jake Sully. Some of him in his old Sky Person skin, others in his avatar. Which you supposed is his body now. But he looked so very different, so young and carefree and if you were honest with yourself, pretty. Especially with his hair loose, small braids framing his face, and baby hairs resting around his forehead. 

“Oh, Dad was so sweet looking!” Kiri joked from behind the three of you, the new photos piqued her interest. Norm and Max shared a laugh. 

“Yep! Quite a looker! Had many a lady chasing after him.” Max joked with the kids, small chuckles rippled out of all of Jake’s kids. 

Lo’ak flipped the screen around, facing you, with a smirk he asked: “What do you think (y/n)? Think my dad is super hot?” You knew Lo’ak was only teasing you, only joking. But you could not help the violent, deep blush from rising to your face. Lo’ak laughed right in your face upon noticing it, making the whole thing so much worse for you. “Oh my god! You do!” He exclaimed.

You shook your head trying to divert attention, but the lack of your voice confirmed everyone’s suspicions. Kiri began poking you in the shoulder, “(y/n)! You can’t think of my dad like that!” 

“No, I don’t” You began the fruitless battle of denial. 

“Admit it! Admit it you find this photo of my dad hot!” Lo’ak nearly screamed, thrusting the screen closer to your face. All it did was make you blush more. 

It wasn’t that you found the photos of young Jake hot, per se. Obviously, he was, and still is an attractive male. There was no doubt about that. What had made you so obviously hot and bothered was the resemblance you saw in Neteyam. You always thought of Neteyam taking Neytiri’s features, and Lo’ak being more like Jake. But in this light, with this photo, Neteyam was as ripped, as sweet, and as attractive as this young photo of his father. More so. 

Thoughts of Neteyam made you hot and bothered on the regular, and this connection you had made in your head made it so much worse. 

“Well go on, (y/n), do you think my father was an attractive young man?” Neteyam asked, a slight smile but his teasing was not as cruel as his siblings. With a sigh of defeat and your head hung down, you would do anything Neteyam would tell you to. 

“Obviously I do.” You mumbled, covering your face in your slender hands in embarrassment, wishing you had not accompanied the Sully’s just this once.

The door to the lab flung open, little Tuk ran in, her braids bouncing as she did so, with a big smile the young girl cleaved the tension in the room in half. 

“Kiri! Kiri, Kiri, Kiri and (y/n)! Grandmother is looking for you two!” Tuk grabbed your’s and Kiri’s wrists, pulling you forward, “C’mon, hurry up! She said you guys are late for lessons.” You let Tuk drag you away from the conversation you wanted to wilt from, silently praising Eywa for her interruption. Kiri complained as usual. 

“Ugh, Tuk! Leave us alone!” 

Tuktirey did not leave either of you alone, instead marching you both to the T’sahik, like her little life depended on it. 

“Hey Norm,” Neteyam started as the two boys got up to leave the lab. “Can I take that tablet, with the photos of dad?” 

“Of course kiddo!” Norm said, handing the tablet to Neteyam, smiling as he did so. Norm often felt so lucky to have Jake, like a brother. And in turn, be an uncle to his beautiful kids. 

“C’mon bro, you’re so slow!” Lo’ak nagged on the walk back to the Sully residence. Neteyam walked slowly, which was unlike him. As he flicked through the young photos of his father. He would’ve been not all that much older than Neteyam in these photos. Neteyam felt himself get all hot and cold on the inside, like the acid in his stomach began to burn him. Neteyam was always jealous of Lo’ak for inheriting more of their father’s features. Neteyam knew he looked more like his mother. He also knew that Neytiri was extremely beautiful, as well as strong. And, he certainly did not think he was ugly. But he couldn’t help but wish he looked more like Jake. 

Especially now, knowing that you found these photos of his father…hot. Neteyam wanted to pluck his own eyes out and force them into his ears. He was already insecure when it came to you. He wanted nothing more than to be your lover, your mate, and the father of your children. He just never had the courage to really broach the topic with you. 

“Neteyam, what is wrong my beautiful baby boy?” Neytiri asked, running a hand over his head to cup his cheek. Since returning home from the lab this afternoon, Neteyam’s air was wrong, he was hurting.

“Mother, can you do my hair?” Neteyam asked, looking up at her through his eyelashes. He always did that, Neytiri mused. Since he was a baby, he would only ever ask for things looking up through his lashes. And how could she ever say no? 

“My Neteyam, your hair is already braided, it is already done.” Neytiri decided to push the topic further, there was no way Neteyam was this distressed over such a trivial thing. He has never cared what his hair looked like before. 

“No, not like this mother.” Neteyam reached out for a tablet laying beside him on the floor, firing it up he swiped until he found the young photo of Jake. “Like this.” 

Neytiri smiled, softly. She remembered taking that photo all those years ago. Jake had just taught her how to use the camera. She hated it, she hated most things the Sky People bought here. But she liked the camera, it allowed her to capture all of her loved ones forever. 

“Okay.” 

Neytiri set to work unbraiding her eldest son’s hair. 

“Anyway, so I definitely saw him talk to her, but I don’t think it was like that. He’s just not game enough.” Kiri was ranting about Neteyam, as the two of you worked grinding herbs into paste, and packing that paste into leaves to save them from spoiling. More specifically, Kiri ranted about how you and Neteyam haven’t gotten together yet, which you constantly had to remind her, will never happen. 

“Kiri, he is allowed to talk to whoever he pleases, whenever he pleases, however he pleases.” You said with a huff. 

“I’m just saying that if the two of you stopped pussyfooting around-” 

“Enough,” Mo’at said, entering the tent. Your stomach dropped as the T’sahik walked past, watching over the work you and Kiri had done. Kiri did not have the same fear of Mo’at as you did, you supposed that was granddaughter privilege. “And, I agree with my granddaughter, (y/n). You would make the perfect T’sahik to Neteyam’s Olo’eyktan.” Mo’at’s words made you blush. But also sweat. Sweat to the point you wanted to vomit to feel some kind of relief. 

This family, you swear to Eywa, will be the death of you.

“Grandmother, I have a question regarding the ceremony-” Neteyam walked in, bow across his shoulders, full warrior dress had been donned. You think Neteyam smiled at you, though you’re not sure, you think he said hello to Kiri and Tuk and the other healers in the tent but you did not hear him. 

You could not. 

Not when he looked like that. 

Neteyam’s hair had been redone, mirroring the photo of Jake you saw a few hours prior. Albeit a little longer than Jake’s had been, but the same style nonetheless. He looked beautiful, he looked just like Jake, but with the finesse of Neytiri’s finer features. 

You were speechless. 

That was not your Neteyam. What had he done with all of his gorgeous braids? One of your favourite things about Neteyam was how his braids swayed when he was angry, or how the beads clinked together when he was laughing. And, that they were Neteyam’s. 

“Your hair…” You stuttered, embarrassed that anything had come out of your mouth at all. Especially in front of Mo’at. 

Neteyam bit his lip nervously, one of his hands finding the back of his neck in anticipation. 

“Do you like it?” Neteyam knew the blood was pooling in his cheeks, causing a lilac tint to run across his nose and ears. 

“Oh, yes. Yes! I do like it, of course!” You said, falling all over your words. His evident blush making your blush more prominent. With all the people in the room, Neteyam had to fucking ask you with all these people in the room! What was he, insane? “But..but do you like it, Neteyam?” Now that you started, you could not stop, all the people in the room faded out of your mind. It was only you and Neteyam. 

“I, uh think it is different and makes me look more like my father,” Neteyam replied, sheepishly. He did not like the hairstyle all that much, but Neteyam knew his fatal flaw was wanting to be as close to Jake as he could. You hummed in agreement, it did make him look like his father.

“I like it better when you look like you, Neteyam.” Your pale eyes caught his bold ones, and you hoped and prayed that he could understand everything you did not say. You broke the eye contact, feeling as if he would undress you with his stare. But with confidence, you pushed through and said: 

“You are much more handsome than your father, Neteyam.” 

The smile that threatened to split Neteyam’s face in half was worth the anxious butterflies that had erupted in your stomach. You came crashing back down from your adrenaline high, and you noticed Mo’at had cleared the room out. It was just the two of you. 

“Thank you, my (y/n). That means a lot considering your flustered state earlier.” He teased you, and you let him. Poking your tongue out as Tuk taught you, as Neteyam made his way over to where you were sitting. He sat closer than what was friendly, but left a whisper of a space between you. Thighs almost touching. Your tail betrayed you, swaying back and forth anxiously.

“Can I tell you a secret, Neteyam?” You whispered as you tried to busy your hands with the mortar and pestle. 

“I would want nothing more.” Neteyam whispered back, trying to catch your eye. 

“I was so embarrassed earlier because I realised how much Jake looks like you. Or, I guess, how much you look like Jake.” You had the tendency to edit your stream of consciousness thoughts when you were nervous. Neteyam chuckled lightly, if it was not for his proximity you would have missed it. And, you decided in that moment, you never wanted to miss it. “I was embarrassed to finally be caught having those thoughts about you, Neteyam.” 

Neteyam felt as if he had been stuck by lightning, all of his blood fried by it, and confidence laid in his veins, instead. “Ugh, fuck it.” Neteyam cursed. He turned quickly, picking you up with ease and setting you down on his lap, your thighs straddling him. Naturally your hands found the hair at the nape of his neck, your thumbs moving to rub circles, massaging his tense jaw. Neteyam rested his forehead on yours, eye to eye, nose to nose. You giggled and the sound inflated Neteyam like no other. 

“Be my T’sahik. My grandmother is right.” Neteyam spoke softly, but it was deep, serious. No joke or trick to even be considered in the spaces between his words.

“I would want nothing more, my Olo’eyktan.” You sealed your promise with a searing kiss, you felt Neteyam’s whole body tense underneath you, as he tried to deepen it. You pulled away, desperate for air. 

“Will you fix my hair?” He asked softly. Despite what the two of you had just done, the position you were in, he felt bashful. No one except his mother has ever touched his hair. 

“Of course, my Neteyam.”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; a pocketful of Kons. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He’s the only one who cares about that, Bart guesses, since nobody else has to.

So it sucks, yeah. 

It really, really sprocking sucks. 

Helen sighs, her shoulders slumping, then glances back towards the TV. Bart finishes off the last bar and throws the box and wrappers away and glowers at the stupid grilled cheese that’s taking forever and then grabs a couple of bananas and eats them too and then gets back to the couch just in time to see Match start nibbling testingly at his own little chunk of protein bar and Helen finishing turning back to the TV. 

“Is this still on?” he asks, squinting dubiously at it. It’s still the news, and on top of that still footage of the maybe-armored/maybe-robot guy. How much of that do they even have, geez. 

A lot, he guesses. 

“It’s been less than five seconds, Bart,” Helen says, looking frustrated for a moment–a million-billion moments, at Bart’s speed–and then just sighs again. “You need to stop spending so much time in subjective time. It’s doing nothing for your patience.” 

“I guess,” Bart replies with a shrug, and then Helen doesn’t say anything back for so long that he forgets what they were talking about to begin with and runs back to the kitchen for another banana. He forgot to save a bite of the first two for Match to try, and maybe he’ll like ‘em or at least he’ll like getting brought ‘em ‘cuz he liked him setting up the mirrors and stuff for him and why’s he always have to slow down, why can’t anyone else just grifin’ speed up for– 

“Bart!” Helen shouts out of nowhere, and Bart trips over the coffee table coming back into the living room and, uh. Whoops. 

Ow, he thinks from the floor, blinking up at her as Match immediately drops his protein bar chunk and starts screeching at her, for like . . . some reason? 

Bart’ll figure it out later, he guesses. 

“What was that for?” he asks her with a frown. Helen looks frustrated, and Match zips over and starts pushing at his face with his tiny little super-strong hands, for . . . some other reason, Bart guesses, he really doesn’t know. “Stop squishing my face. Why are you squishing my face? It’s annoying.” 

Match scowls at him, then grabs onto both of his cheeks and squishes them together. 

“I think you’re kind of a brat,” Bart says, squinting sourly at him. “Did I tell you I think you’re kind of a brat yet? ‘Cuz I definitely do think that.” 

He really definitely thinks that, yeah. 

“Imp,” Match says accusingly. Bart doesn’t really feel like that’s an answer, really? 

Then again it’s not like Match knows any other words yet and he definitely doesn’t know any Pocket-talk, so that’s probably kinda unavoidable and– 

“Please focus, Bart,” Helen says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If this is your soulmate on the news . . .” 

“Oh, he’s probably not,” Bart says with a shrug, because Match really seemed annoyed when he asked if the guy on the news was him or not. “Especially if he’s Superman. She’s? They’re? I dunno, I didn’t figure out if they’re piloting a robot yet or not, so who knows.” 

Helen–frowns, and lowers her hand away from her face to give him a weird look. Bart pretends it’s not a weird look. It’s fine. He’s just–it’s fine. That’s all. 

“Bart, your soulmate is Superman,” Helen says. 

“Oh, yeah,” Bart agrees. “But he’s not that Superman. Like, the first guy, I mean. The first guy’s still gonna be dead for like–ummm, what’s the date again?” 

Helen stares at him some more. 

Bart doesn’t fidget. 

At least not slow enough for her to see, anyway. 

“Pretty sure the robot guy isn’t the first Superman either,” he says. “Superman’s real big on people seeing his face. And doesn’t even wear gloves or anything. But like, especially the face thing, right?” 

“Why do you think your soulmate isn’t Superman, Bart?” Helen asks carefully. 

“‘Cuz I asked Match?” Bart replies, wondering why that’s even, like, a question? Obviously he asked Match. A) it’s super-obvious, and b) why would he not ask Match? Who else would even know, anyway? 

“You . . . asked him,” Helen repeats slowly, staring blankly at him again. 

“Yeah,” Bart says, still wondering why this is even a question. “Like, he’d know. And also I wasn’t actually allowed to leave the house and I don’t have the Fortress of Solitude’s phone number or anything so–” 

“Bart,” Helen cuts in, glancing sidelong at the TV for a moment, and then down at Match. “If he’s not Superman, then who is he?” 

“I dunno,” Bart says. “Maybe he’s Nightwing, actually."

“Who?” Helen looks bewildered. Bart squints at her. Do they not have Nightwing yet? At least one of them, anyway? 

“I mean, there’s been a lot of Supermen, and I guess a lot of them looked pretty much the same?” he says, then shrugs purposelessly. Not that he ever really paid attention to all that ancient history stuff, just he vaguely remembers hearing about it a couple times. “I guess, anyway. Though maybe he’s Supergirl, actually, I guess she looks kinda like Superman sometimes too. Match, are you Supergirl?” 

Match fixes him with the most dubious look in the world, then gestures pointedly at himself. Bart has absolutely no idea what said gesturing means, but okay, he guesses. 

“I don’t think he’s Supergirl either,” he tells Helen. ”Though if he is maybe somebody should ask her about her pronoun preferences?” 

Helen looks a little stressed, for some reason. Bart doesn’t get it. She starts to open her mouth to say something–and takes a subjective month about it–but gets interrupted when the front door opens and Max walks in through it. 

Max looks at Helen’s stressed expression and then at Match’s dubious look and then at Bart, and then he sighs. Bart–prickles, kind of.

It doesn’t feel good, that Max sighed like that about him. 

Not like it ever does, though.

[realititrip]

my Red Error AU for @dpauzine :D You can also check out the full zine here

The story in this AU follows Valerie after getting suit upgrade from Technus. Of course it's more than that and things start getting out of hand pretty quickly.

First it was the little things, barely noticable, but still there like studying becoming easier or her reaction time to attacks being faster. Valerie brushed it off.

This was going on for around 2 weeks without change until Phantom approached her after a fight where they had to team up to take down a more dangerous ghost. "Um Red? Your eyes glowed red for a second there and i wanted to ask if you were okay?" he said but Val just snaped at him to better mind his own business or else he'll be the one in her thermos next time she sees him. Phantom flew away then but the worry she saw in his eyes was stuck in her brain.

Valerie spent the rest of that night staring at the mirror in her bathroom looking for the red glow but never found it. Until a few days later when she woke up with sore eyes. Went to the mirror and saw red around the edges. It's fine it's FINE don't panic you'll figure it out girl.

After some thinking she figured new suit must be the source of the problem. Since it was fused with her body Val couldn't take it off, but it wasn't causing harm to anyone so she probably overused it or something that's why the red showed up.

And oh honey, you couldn't be more wrong.

Her vision changed. Those are definitely NOT the same eyes she had last week. The iris looks more mechanical, like there's something moving and shifting in it, like a robot or cyborgs, she thought. Everything is clearer, in higher quality, she can even zoom in and out if she so desieres. When she puts the suit on there's just /more/ of everything. Around the edges of her vision Valerie can see health statistics, ghosts in the area and other important information she needs. The familiar green eyes are gone, replaced with red.

The next change was her hair. Problem was they didn't look like hair anymore. Thick and think cables, any kind, running down her back. This really started freaking her out. This is where it started becoming too much and the situation she's in started sinking in. She needed help. But who even could do anything about it? Her dad would just worry even more, Phantom isn't an option, the best tech guy in town doesn't know she's Red Huntress and she's not going to change that.

So Valerie made a plan to wait for Technus to show up and catch him before Phantom. It surprised her the ghost was actually useful and explained what he could. Of course there was the threat that she'll destroy Technus if he won't but. Details.

Apparently her "hair" could be used to connect with any sort of device. She needs camera footage to check out ghost fight details? done. Wes talking about his phone freaking out because of ghost pictures? she can get that easily. The cables act like another pair of arms and do exactly what she wants.

Technus has a theory that the reason behind all of this was because he used too much of his powers on her. Since it was more than a normal human body could handle thus the changes.

He warned that there's a possibility she'll develop something similar to a ghosts core, the thing that stores all her power, the source of it. Since she's still human, Valerie thought it wouldn't happen, but fate seems to hate her, so here we are, with a triangle on her forehead that seems to be slowly growing in size every day. Honestly, it's not so bad, pretty easy to hide. The worst part about it is that if the core got damaged she must go to Technus for help.

But other than that, she's fine, for real this time.

[jennilah]

a very dumb deep dive

gather round, i saw a few people say they want to crawl into the head of someone who had trouble telling Hoffman and Strahm apart upon first viewing. I offer mine for the picking because i think ive identified, at least in MY personal experience, the various elements that came together that formed the ultimate confusion

if this is not relatable nor informative, i hope it is at least a little silly. this is all in good fun and obviously the difference between them is clear as day to me now

this will be longer than it should be.

PRECURSOR POINT NUMBER ONE...

I do not remember character names. Not until they are recurring, or I've rewatched a film a few times. Sometimes it will take me an entire 12-21 episode season length for me to know characters by name in a show. I've seen some Saw films more than 6 times now and I still don't know everyone in the traps 🤷‍♀️

PRECURSOR POINT NUMBER TWO..

at the time of watching Saw IV for the first time, the madness has not yet set in for Hoffman and Strahm for me. In fact, I didn't like either of them. I wasn't looking at them with my deranged eyes yet.

Without my crazy brain activated, sometimes I'll get face blindness between people who have similar enough hair and stuff. I'll use clothes as an identifier if I can

Meaning, I didn't notice anything like face details, mannerisms, body shapes- to me, it was one dark haired white guy in a suit and another dark haired white guy in a suit who both worked in law enforcement.

uh oh

PRECURSOR POINT NUMBER THREE..

in a very elaborate plot like this with many interwoven stories being told, especially with police procedure, has a lot of details that get lost on me upon first watch because I simply easily misunderstand what is happening. I zone out on stuff like legal talk because I don't know that world at all, and the more general plot information to absorb, the more I forget.

"But [character] SAYS..!" oh, I'm aware! If you pay attention and can remember character names, everything is pretty clear in this movie!

so between all three points, you see where I'm starting to go with this.

THAT BRINGS US TO..

Saw IV. let me describe to you what I believe my thought process was to the best of my memory.

This guy shows up. as far as I knew, this was the first time I've met this character. I forgot he was in Saw III because he was only in it for a second and I definitely don't remember him among the sea of other characters.

ok. sure. new detective because the others are dead. got it 👌

next time we see him is a few minutes later, now in this lighting. I don't have his features memorized yet. I'm pretty sure I put it together that it was the same guy as before, and I see he's in a new outfit.

keep in mind he is not at all referred to with a NAME yet, until Perez shows up and introduces all three of them at the same time

here comes "Strahm," as he was quickly introduced in practically the same breath, from the FBI. and he looks like this.

I mentally go "ok FBI guy in the suit" because my occasional bout of face blindness is activating rn. The problems are on the horizon for me

I survived that scene, but the scene right after? I'm doomed.

Major Confusion #1:

this treacherous interrogation footage, ft Hoffman's ass and slutty, slutty suspenders (but I did NOT give him even a second glance here yet. genuinely.)

I'm 100% sure I just didn't know who I was looking at in this footage at all just because of the outfit change

and then the boys are back in town. and they're BOTH WEARING THIS...

This was mean. this was fucked. I was doomed. My brain is already churning trying to keep up with what the footage was, now there's two dark haired white men in dark suits. Who was who again? I think the guy who just turned off the TV was the new detective. The guy who was talking to the Swat guy before. Yeah....

Major Confusion #2:

Next time we see them, Strahm and Perez are watching the interrogation footage. They quickly start talking Jigsaw stuff and my mind is already working overtime figuring out what information is and isn't important to hold on to.

Hoffman says hello for like 1 minute and then fucks off.

My brain is going "ok.. that footage was an old interrogation... mhm..."

this is the information my brain has decided to retain from that scene for later.

Major Confusion #3

this dark haired white guy in a suit got kidnapped idfk. the shots are all very short and he's enshrouded in shadow or SUPER close-up, and I don't know to recognize him by his lips yet. clearly Im more focused on his hair color and suit, so this could be fuckin anyone

Perez said something about officers being in danger earlier, I think I thought maybe it was irony and the cocky FBI guy was the one who got kidnapped instead? i dont know.

then after the first test of Rigg's game, you see Perez and Strahm again for a SECOND. I def didn't pay them much attention. My mind is elsewhere- the insanity of the previous scene

Major Confusion #4:

then FINALLY... we see Hoffman again in the slut chair

and what have we learned about me so far?

let me sum up my logic for you

Now, if only I was certain on their names..

I'm not going to go over every single scene, but I guarantee you, the confusion was fully set in by this point. That detective from the beginning either really just went home, or he was working with Perez. Or maybe it's the FBI guy and someone else is in the chair? No idea.

My brain retained that one slightly misguided bit of information from the interrogation footage and thought This Guy, Whoever This Guy Is, was interrogating Jill a second time. (Wrong.)

there was no memory of the guy's big ass in that footage or anything. that was also way the fuck in the intro and there was a LOT more that happened between then and now in the movie to remember now. and people really don't say each other's names that often.

Yeah there's also that flashback footage showing The Guy In the Chair and Rigg back in the day, but I was too far gone. That was simply the story of how That Guy and Art Blanc knew each other.

and boy does Chair Guy not do much for the rest of the movie, so there was not much more info about his identity that I could try to work out. Maybe he was just some new random guy meant to die in someone else's game because he is kind of a dirty cop?

Pretty sure I was resigned to the fact that I was watching completely utterly confused by the third act.

then fucking JEFF DENLON shows up and i remember either mentally or physically throwing my hands up like "ok now i REALLY dont know whats going on"

I remember I was still excited by the thrill of it, just completely lost as to who was who and what the fuck was going on.

as Eric Matthews was yelling "WHO'S COMING THROUGH THAT DOOR?" i remember going "I DONT KNOW, MAN!!!!!!"

The Grand Clear-up:

THE REVEAL.

Through the power of the Hello Zepp reveal montage, I finally understood "OHHHH YOU'RE THE DETECTIVE FROM THE BEGINNING!!!"

i had other confusions that i eventually worked out, but I went into Saw V much more clear on who was who. There was Hoffman the evil detective, and Strahm the jerk FBI guy (who I then softened up to throughout V, no longer thinking he was a jerk)

and, if I couldn't physically tell who was on screen because I still struggled a little bit with that... I looked for Strahm's bandage :)

and thats my story lmao...

anyway finding out just how many other people mixed them up or confused them or couldn't tell them apart makes me feel so validated thank u. i understand u

[eddiemunsonw]

Princess

Gator Tillman x fem!reader blurb

Summary: He's there for duty, but then you are there, you know?

CW/Disclaimer: No special warnings needed I believe

Author's note: I think sometimes this loserboy can have a little bit of rizz if he isn't shut down right in the same second. Y'know, the silence can either fuck him over or give him cocky confidence. Which is kind of what's happening here.

Words: 777

A sigh escaped your lips as you dunked the last pieces of glass in the trash. Thankfully, aside from a few broken pieces of glass and a slippery slope of olives spread around the aisle, nothing eventful had happened at the robbery, if you could even call it that. It seemed more like a kid that had been pressured into a dare to steal something and had massively fucked up by tripping over their own feet and knocking off some products. Still, you had to call someone in. Letting these things go unnoticed would only make you an easy target. Which is why you weren’t surprised when the Sheriff had sent his son your way.

Gator Tillman came to a screeching halt in front of the shop, music blazing through the speakers. You rolled your eyes and folded up your dishrag as you walked to the back to wash your hands. Behind you, the bell to signal someone entering the shop clanged. You took your time to get to the front, already hearing several “hellos”, patience dropping with each new one.

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” you mumbled, holding back a sigh. Gator frowned and already opened his mouth to retort something towards the rude greeting he received until his eyes landed on you.

“That’s no way to talk to— Oh… well would you look at that,” he smirked and moved closer to the counter you stood behind. “If I’d known this place was run by a pretty bird like you, I would’ve stepped in long ago.”

“Well… What do you need, Tillman? The kid’s probably still a minor, I don’t know if the security footage is—”

“Hush, darlin’, there’s no rush on the matter at hand. Rather… I’d like to hold yours for a moment, may I?”

He held out his hand, palm upwards for you to lay your hand in it. You frowned at this weird request of him wanting to shake your hand. Maybe to introduce himself formally, which made no sense considering everyone knew Roy Tillman, which meant everyone also knew his son. However, when you extended your right hand, he tutted.

“I understand the confusion but I wanted to see somethin’...”

He beckoned for your left hand and in your confusion you held it out for him wordlessly. A soft smile introduced itself on his face as he took hold of your hand, thumb dragging over your knuckles. You vaguely noticed his hand was warm and his calloused thumb didn’t feel all that unpleasant.

“Ah… look here,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you it seemed. He looked up, his thumb still circling a repeating pattern over your knuckles as he spoke.

“No man claimed you just yet? Any suitors?”

A dry chuckle left your throat. First of all, no one could claim you. You decided to humor him a little though.

“No one’s stupid enough to try,” you said with a shrug. It was up to him however he took that bit of information. He hummed lowly, eyes flicking back to your hand again, slowly following the path towards your wrist, up your arm… slowstop at your chest, back to your face.

“We’ll see about that, sweetheart. No boyfriend? Man with a plan?”

“None of the sort, no.”

His thumb came to a stop at your ring finger, tapping it without removing his gaze from yours this time. It was your own gaze that shifted as his thumb rubbed the spot with meaning.

“I’m telling you now, I’ll be putting a ring on that finger of yours, darlin’.”

Another chuckle, one of disbelief, escaped your throat.

“I’d like to see you try.”

He smiled and finally let go of your hand to take his vape out of his pocket. You watched as he brought it closely to his lips, halting right before.

“For you, Princess,” he stated before taking a slow drag of his vape, eyes never leaving you, “anytime.”

Only now you realized that your heart rate had picked up just a notch and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to curse him or yourself for it. He leaned forward to say something else just as his radio went off. He snapped his lips shut and listened to the static voice coming in.

“Duty calls. I’ll see you around,” Gator said as he swiftly turned on his heel.

Just as you thought he was going to leave, he suddenly cocked his head back.

“You got beef jerky and Dew?”

“Sure do.”

“Good.”

And with that, he left with what felt like the promise of a marriage involving a whole ton of beef jerky and Mountain Dew. What a Tuesday.

[theladyragnell]

ooohh, leverage ot3 talking late into the night?

(Set early in the Boston era.)

More often than not, it’s the three of them on Nate’s couch long after Nate’s gone to sleep.

After all, Alec is his landlord, and he’s not going to be a shitty landlord. He splashed out for the good internet connection, the kind that can handle the sort of load Alec works with regularly, and the bar and the apartment are in a neighborhood with enough utilities that nobody’s going to think twice about that kind of load, so it’s safer than doing the work in his own brownstone that he largely picked for the view and so he could enjoy people’s expressions when he says he lives in Beacon Hill.

All that to say, when Alec’s got work to do, and no matter what his teammates say he’s always got work to do, he does it at Nate’s, while Nate sleeps or pretends to sleep or makes whatever terrible choices Nate is making this week.

There’s no real reason for the other two to stay. Eliot claims he only sleeps four hours a night, and Parker thinks wandering around the Isabella Stewart Gardner at night trying to solve their unsolved heist is a good use of recreational time (which it is, but also her theories are wrong), but their work doesn’t take the kind of preparation and long hours of filtering through security footage his does.

When Eliot stays, he makes excuses about it. The rest of them are animals who never do the dishes from team dinner, or the mark’s security looked shifty and Eliot wants to make sure nobody followed them, or Nate’s kitchen has better wild yeast for a new sourdough starter, which was a wild conversation but the resulting bread was good as hell.

Parker doesn’t make excuses. She just twists herself up in a pretzel a few pieces of furniture away from him or finds some way to hang from the ceiling and hangs out. When Eliot makes a late-night snack of homemade soft pretzels or Swedish meatballs or spinach balls, she eats them. Sometimes she steals Alec’s orange soda, which she doesn’t even like.

So Alec talks to them. It’s sort of his natural state, talking to people, keeping up a running commentary on what he’s doing, and with Parker and Eliot, they’re pretty likely to chime in with something helpful sometimes.

Neither of them are chatty people, which is why he doesn’t really notice it when they do start chatting. He’s so used to one-sided conversations, and then he looks up from a laptop at two in the morning and realizes that Parker’s spent the last ten minutes telling him where she would put cameras if she wanted a thief as good as she is to know they’re there, that Eliot’s sometimes chiming in to argue with her about maybe tailoring their plans to make thieves a little less good than she is paranoid.

“What?” Eliot demands, a little aggressive like he can sometimes get, when he catches Hardison staring at them a few minutes later, fingers hovering over his keyboard while he puzzles over the situation and then puzzles over why he’s puzzling.

“Nothing, man. Just wondering if you guys need to get some sleep, that’s all. Don’t you have that early meet with the mark? Or am I doing all this work on identifying his security team for no good reason?”

Parker, who is upside down on the couch in a way that would have Alec dizzy if he tried it out, makes a face like she smelled something. “Oh, I’m not going to bed before that. I’ll sleep later.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” says Eliot, who definitely doesn’t. “Especially if Parker is going to be wrong about parking lot cameras—”

“I am never wrong about security cameras!”

“You’re both wrong about security cameras,” says Hardison, who has looked at more footage than both of them combined, and hits his last few keystrokes before he can shut the laptop, work done, and argue with them for a few more minutes until Eliot admits it’s time to go to bed.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Damian x reader where she is having a bad day and he comforts her! A lot of kisses and cuddles and Damian being a low key flirt! Please and thank u!

Promise - Damian Wayne x Reader

"Y/N! you will never believe what Penguin tried today at the charity luncheon! Amid the chicken fingers too! It was quite a hilarious event and- oh. Oh shit. What's wrong?" the hero had easily flitted through your window like a leaf on the cold breeze- a chill which had been blowing into your room for almost two, frozen hours.

"Hey Dames. I'm fine, what happened with Penguin?" you muttered, pushing hair behind your ear to look up at the shocked man in front of you. You quickly wiped away at running mascara, frustrated you even let your emotions get the better of you tonight.

Damian didn't reply, instead he firmly shut your window behind him with one hand, his eyes not leaving your curled figure buried in a corner of your bed. Next he backed up to your closet, continuing to analyze your every move while he changed out of his Batman suit, a new suit that was truly meant for him, into sweats you kept for him a one of your drawers.

You felt the bed dip and Damian was sat at the edge staring at you as if you were going to get up and run away.

You were still curled in a ball, knees to your chest and head resting on your arms as you grumbled, "I asked what happened with Penguin" and Damian gave you a slight frown, "what happened with you?"

"Rude"

"You've been crying"

"Have not"

"So pretty even when lying to me" he mumbled, sliding into place next to you, draping a long arm around you to pull you into his chest. You huffed in response, but it was more an excuse to inhale the smell of dry cedar, vanilla, and just a hint of sweat- overwhelmingly perfect (for my connoisseurs I'm talking ORMAIE Toï Toï Toï).

Giving into your silence he pulled out his phone, pulling up footage clearly from the day's events. You watched Penguin try to steal a highly expensive painting being auctioned, but before he could get away, Damian was bounding towards the thief, using Penguin's own henchmen's heads as stepping stones. They fell almost like bowling pins as your hero flipped and spun through the air, Penguin kept trying to shoot at the blur but Damian just had the villain spinning in circles until he too collapsed without Damian even having to lift a finger.

"Dick would be soooo proud" you giggled leaning your head up to look at Damian who was grinning proudly at the film himself.

"There's that smile. And yeah, I already sent it to him! He says he's gonna try the same move next week." Damian mused, tucking the phone back into his pocket, his arm still draped around you as he mindlessly tapped his fingers on your side.

You realized he wasn't going to drop it so you broke the silence, "I just had a bad day Dames, nothing to it, it happens."

"You know I would literally kill anyone who hurt yo-"

"I know Dames, I know. But this wasn't really anyones fault, I just get in my own head sometimes." you huffed, actually relaxing after getting the thoughts off your chest.

He tapped your skill with a frown, "well, then let the people in there know I'm coming for them next."

"You're coming for my thoughts?" you snorted.

"If that's what is takes to make you happy, I'll call Zatanna we can magic school bus this shit or something-" Damian was joking, but you appreciated the sentiment.

"Sometimes you've just gotta be a little sad D, I'll be okay,"

"Promise?"

"With you by my side? I could never be upset for long, I promise."

"That's what I like to hear!"

"I could totally use some pizza though, you know, to cure me"

"For you, Beloved, the world" your hero responded, pulling out his phone to order your favorites, clearly excited just to spend time with you. Seriously though, with him around it was impossible to be upset for long.

"You know I love you, Damian Wayne."

"I sure hope so, no other heroes better be coming through your window at night!" he teased back, pressing a kiss to your forehead while you shook your head with a laugh, feeling the pressure and weight get lifted off your shoulders already.

~

Short but sweet, ty for the request!! <3

[simp4fictionalmenandjesus]

unimportant

“i don’t expect to be the most important thing in your life but god damn it, i thought i’d at least be in the top 5” with itoshi rin and itoshi sae. angst/no comfort.

rin itoshi

rin was really starting to piss you off. you’ve tried your best to understand him. you always listen to his problems. you stay with him when he needs company and leave when he doesn’t. not to toot your own horn, but you’ve been a pretty good girlfriend.

so, when you walk into your shared apartment, tearing up slightly because of a bad day at work, you immediately go to look for your boyfriend.

rin is analysing game footage for his next match. the opposition had brought in a few new players so he needed to get a grasp on how good they are.

listen, you weren’t one to disturb rin when he was working. you knew your boyfriend loathed being disturbed while attending to his duties but right now you need him to hug you and cuddle you until all the stress leaves your body.

“rinnie…” he doesn’t look at you, but you know he hears you because of the small grunt he lets out in reply. “i had a really bad day, can we hang out?” you’re staring at rin, waiting for him to ask you what happened.

he does not, in fact, ask you what happened. instead, you’re met with a groan and a “stop complaining.” wow. what a lovely boyfriend.

you try again, desperate for some form of comfort. “rin, please.” you need him right now, and his match is in three weeks, surely he can spare enough of his time to give you some words of solace.

he finally looks at you, a harsh glare meeting your eyes. “i’m working. y/n, leave me alone.” and you know he sees your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, you know that he knows you’ve been crying.

he turns back to the screen, ignorant of your existence. that’s when your sadness turns into frustration.

“rin, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” you’ve walked up to him now, leaning over him to press pause on the game footage.

he doesn’t say anything but just glares again. he’s treating you like you’re a bug. your frustration only grows.

“oh my fucking god!” you throw your hands up in exasperation, glaring right back at rin. his voice is filled with apathy to your emotions, “i need to work. i’ll talk to you later.”

you start laughing. it seems that your unexpected reaction finally caught rin’s full attention. “listen rin, i know how important soccer is to you. i don’t expect to be number one on your priority list, but god, i at least thought i would make the top five!” rin stares at you without saying anything.

you continue your mini-rant “you know what, next time i’m upset, i won’t come to you. i wouldn’t want to risk disturbing your oh so precious game footage.” you stare rin dead in the eyes and send him a clearly fake smile. “next time you’re upset, don’t come to me either. i might be working.”

rin just glares. there’s something that’s so belittling about him not replying to your outburst. it makes you feel like a nuisance to him, but you suppose you are.

you leave the house. at least you’re angry instead of sad.

sae itoshi

you met sae in the airport with a large smile as soon as he came back to japan, immediately jumping into his arms and kissing him. you had missed your boyfriend dearly.

you, of course, expected sae to spend a bit of time with you after getting his passport renewed, but then he joins the u-20 japanese team for a match against the new government project blue lock.

that’s fine. sae will be able to spend some time with you right? wrong. before the day of the match, he trains and works. it’s alright though, he’s playing an important game, of course his preparations will take up a good chunk of his time.

after the match, he’s still busy working and training. you’re starting to realise that sae won’t spend a lot of time with you while he’s here.

all you really want is one day. a day where you and sae have a nice date together, where you’re able to finally have a full heart-to-heart conversation with him.

you walk into your mini home gym, sae’s inside. he’s doing bicep curls with weights you couldn’t lift with both of your hands. “sae! can we go on a date today?” your eyes are hopeful.

sae turns to you and sighs. “i can’t today, maybe tomorrow?” you return his sigh with an even bigger one. “you’ve been saying that for the past few days now.”

sae’s getting irritated. you can tell by the way he subtly squints his teal eyes. you’re bothering him.

“y/n. i have things to do, i can’t abandon it for some stupid date.” his words are harsher than they should be and he knows that, but it’s your fault for getting him upset, you keep bothering him about these dates. it’s annoying.

his words piss you off, and he continues to piss you off as he speaks again. “we can just eat at home like we always do.”

you feel your frustration growing but you take a deep breath to calm down, you don’t want to have an outburst. “sae, i want to go on a proper date with you. don’t get me wrong, i love staying home with you and just hanging out together but i want a special date, y’know?”

sae glares at you, he drops the weight on the floor and you wince at the loud crash. “y/n. i’m busy with soccer training. i can’t go on a date.”

it’s always soccer. at this point, sae might as well marry soccer because jesus fucking christ it’s all he cares about.

you walk up to him, you’re done trying to be nice. your index finger points into his chest. “i know you’re busy and i don’t expect to be the most important thing in your life but i thought i’d at least be in the top five.”

you sigh and step back from him, refusing to look at his expression. “never mind. i’m going out.”

sae doesn’t try to stop you.

do you want me to do any other of the boys?