#sure he is a pathetic wet cat of man

[riverwithoutbanks]

CAS’ LILLE GROCERY RUN DURING 8x22 CLIP SHOW!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

HE’S SO!!!

SO!!!!

‘I have money.’ You sure do, bud. At least you have all of mine. Here, take it <3

I love you insane deranged angel man <3

[mobblespsycho100]

BTW ik theres less toshiro bad takes now (thank God. Thank Goodness) but I just want to reiterate that "recently, I haven't been able to stand you" ≠ "I've hated you from the very beginning and never considered you my friend" btw. like.

Toshiro never outright stated "I hate you and you should shut the fuck up and fuck off and die forever" he was more like "hey you're so fucking annoying sometimes man, please understand the concept of personal space, your lack of self-awareness have been pissing me off" which YES is still not the greatest thing to say to a fellow autistic person HOWEVER laios never even holds it against him and toshiro doesn't. fucking. hate. him. like would a hater give that man a bell of "im gonna help you if you need my help also don't die" ⁉️

I didn't think so.

[a-passing-storm]

John Wick is actually so funny to me. 

[winter-jay-official]

Watching the sandman and dream is a little skrunkly u know

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

hm. hey. there's been multiple instances where ailette and tesilid have been out and away from civilisation for the whole day, if not days, and yet there's never been any mention of tesilid having stubble.

now obviously this is because this is a rofan and our male leads aren't allowed to be anything other than conventionally attractive 🙄 but for a moment let's do the more ridiculous thing and assume that it's because tesilid genuinely doesn't have any stubble for ailette to comment on.

before we start delving into the possible implications of this, let's systematically go through all the instances tesilid should have stubble, but doesn't. (or at least the instances i recall, anyway)

(contains spoilers for season 3 of the manhwa onwards)

1. Start of the 17th

Tesilid is unconscious for a couple of days. This can easily be explained away as Ailette having helped him shave while he's unconscious. Kind of a weird thing to do for a guy you've only met twice, while he's unconscious, but these two have always been kind of weirdly familiar with each other so whatever.

2. Bandit Village arc (?)

They apparently hadn't been able to bath for a while before this. Or maybe it was before they went to the town where they reunited with Hestio and Ephael. i can't remember. But it's a little weird if they're not able to wipe themselves down, but somehow have water to shave Tesilid's face. you do need water to shave right? or maybe you don't and Tesilid gets nicks and small cuts all over his face and Ailette heals him immediately?? lmao

2. Post-Saintess reveal

This can be easily explained away as Ailette having stashed away a razor in the bathroom of the cottage. She'd planned to use that house as a getaway post-Divine Advent, after all - she had a teleportation stone linked to it for a reason. Might as well provide whatever Tesilid needs to be comfy while she's unconscious.

3. Post-Magic Republic Dungeon

Tesilid hides Ailette away in a dungeon where time passes faster than in the human world. But when they emerge, everyone thinks they've been gone for only half a day. Now that's a little weird 🤨 Ailette only wakes up in the Vatican, so it's not like she could have helped him clean up, either.

4. Post-Mirror Dungeon

Ailette is unconscious for a couple of days again, and she even feels bad for Tesilid because it means he hadn't been able to eat the whole time; he doesn't have access to her inventory. Again, no mention of him looking terribly haggard because of stubble on his face. You would think that this is the first thing you notice on a person which makes them look scruffy and tired.

So here's the explanations i came up with:

Tesilid's face doesn't have pores 🤨

The Strict Order doesn't let Tesilid have access to most shit, but there's a handy razor that he carries around all the time because god forbid god's favourite creation grow stubble. Growing stubble goes against the religion's teachings or something, i don't know

Through his regressions, Tesilid has somehow acquired a passive ability that sort of freezes his body in time. Or maybe an ultra specific skill that stops the growth of stubble

His stubble isn't as visible because his hair is white or something.

My estimate of how often men need to shave their face is terribly off. maybe some men's beards just grows at a really slow rate. i wouldn't know

🤔🤔

thanks for listening to my tedtalk

[welcometothemindfuckbitchesssss]

his greasy hair and white woman knit sweaters have bewitched me.

[osaemu]

WHEN YOU'RE SICK: STREAMER!GOJO

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: you have a cold, and he has a bag of sweets—how does your streamer boyfriend comfort you when you're sick? (streamer!au)

contents: fem!reader. fluff. pet names. very self-indulgent bc i'm sick right now and needed this for myself :,) can mostly be read outside of the streamer!au i guess.

“i brought you some sweets!”

you look up drowsily when your boyfriend’s familiar voice pulls you out of your sleep. your eyes slowly adjust to the soft lighting of your room and to the perfect, sharp features of the face inches from yours. “satoru, how are you here—”

he cuts you off by pressing a finger to your lips, and a moment later, satoru slips some sort of candy into your mouth. “‘cause you’re sick, and i’m a good boyfriend. obviously,” he teases, smiling endearingly when your eyes light up from the sugary taste of whatever satoru gave you. “how’d you catch a cold, anyways?”

you sit up a little bit, resting your back against the headboard and your head on satoru’s shoulder. “i’m not actually sure,” you admit, snuggling into the arm that wraps itself around you.  “aw, you’re wearing the hoodie i got you,” you point out, tapping on his chest. it’s a small inside joke between the two of you—the logo on the top left of the hoodie is the one from the streamer inmaki’s channel, a user who has a long-standing reputation for being one of your boyfriend’s haters.

“only because i practically ran out of the house once i got your text,” satoru huffs, rolling his blue eyes good-naturedly. he notices the little smile on your face and the way you cover your mouth in an attempt to hide your laugh, so he pulls out his phone from his pocket and adds, “hey, what was i supposed to do when i get a message like this?”

random girl i guess i like: can u come over :( i’m sick and imy

“why’d you change my contact to ‘random girl i guess i like?’” you gasp dramatically, snatching satoru’s phone away from him. a nervous laugh slips out of your boyfriend’s lips before you turn on him, squinting your eyes at him suspiciously. “if i looked at suguru’s contact, what would i see next?”

“...you don’t wanna know.”

“satoru gojo, answer me or i swear—” you don’t get to finish your threat before a sneeze cuts you off, followed by two more that leave you deflated in satoru’s arms. somehow, your head slides down from his shoulder and ends up on his chest, and a look of concern overtakes satoru’s expression.

“how sick are you?” he asks tentatively, fishing out another candy from his pocket and prodding at your lips with it. you open your mouth and let him feed you, taking a second to relish the sweetness of the sugar-loaded bite before you shrug and sniffle again. “poor thing,” satoru coos, rounding his eyes down at you while you rub your nose to get rid of the subtle itching sensation. 

“i can’t stop sniffling,” you mumble dryly, staring up at satoru pathetically. it’s as if you’re a wet cat that’s been sitting in the rain for hours, and as if he’s the kind old man who takes you in and dries you off. satoru’s slender fingers thread themselves through your dishelved hair, stroking it and twining it around his hand. “s’ been like this for hou— no, days,” you continue, determined to complain for at least the next couple minutes. “and—”

satoru’s hands move from the top of your head to your cheeks, cupping them intensely enough to hold your face still as he leans down and gives you a quick kiss on the lips. you make a small sound in protest, not wanting to get him sick too, but he ignores you and peppers feather-like kisses all over your face. “you’re so cute like this, y’know?” he murmurs, squishing your face in between his hands. “all rumpled and bedhead-y, aww.”

“satoru, you’ll get sick,” you point out, futilely trying to lean away from his lips when he goes back in for a kiss again. “satoru!”

“i don’t care,” he grumbles, swatting away your hand when you try to pull on the strings of his hoodie. “you’re my girlfriend, and if i wanna kiss you, then i will. and i don’t care if i get sick, ‘cause i have a pretty girl to take care of me anyways, don’t i?”

you stop protesting and let him press his lips back to yours again, and even though you sniffle again about three times, satoru’s as devoted to you as ever. “really?”

“yeah. my mom— ow, i mean, you too!” he adds quickly, grinning playfully even when you swat his chest. “i’m joking, i’m joking. have some candy, sweet girl.” before you can say anything, satoru shoves a handful of bright, colorful sweets in your mouth and kisses your nose. “take a nap. i’ll be here when you wake up, i promise.”

somehow, the moment you hear satoru’s murmured reassurances, your eyes grow heavy and you surrender yourself to his grip. “m’kay…” you mumble, closing your eyes and exhaling softly. and maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you can feel satoru’s suppressed laughter as you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. 

… 

“wait, now what do i do?”

[ventique18]

🐉 being a ridiculously old-fashioned guy whose romantic advancements would be considered today as creepy and a 🌸 who's a very modern person. Warning: may be mildly uncomfortable.

Scenario 1

🐉, throwing rocks at their window: "Beautiful child of man! I've come to see you!"

🌸: "What the fuck?! It's 12 am!!"

CRASH!!

🌸: "YOU BROKE THE WINDOW! I'M GONNA REPORT YOU TO THE HEADMAGE FFOR DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY--"

The headmage praises Draconia for his tenacity and dedication.

Scenario 2

🐉: "Oh dear, there's a puddle on the floor."

He shrugs off his coat, drapes it over the puddle, and with a smug face, flourishes his arms to encourage 🌸 to walk on the coat.

🌸 stares at him dead in the eyes, mouth agape as they sidestep the coat altogether.

Scenario 3

🐦‍⬛: "Alright, first years. Our fieldtrip location doesn't have a magic mirror installed, so we will be flying on a plane instead. Line up now~"

🐉, thundering across the airport, frightening the guards who attempted to do their job and stop this menace but backing out after a step: "BELOVED! I shall wait for you, no matter how long it takes for us to reunite! A month, a year, a decade! A century! I will be patient and my love for you will be the same as you left it, rest assured."

🌸, hiding their face and trying to hide behind the curious crowd: "Oh my god, oh my god, kill me--"

🐦‍⬛: "My! What an admirable profession of love! Rest assured however, that the students will only be gone for three days."

🐉: "Lovely. Then I will wait at this place for your arrival--"

🌸: "GO HOME!"

Back at the dorm

🐉: "Lilia Vanrouge! It is not working! Every single one of the romantic advancements you taught me did not work at all!"

🦇: "Really? How odd. I mean, it was your mother who did those to your father and he seemed to ignore all of her advances too, but they got married in the end, didn't they?"

🦇: "I'm sure you'll win in the end too! It's tried and tested. Just keep at it!"

Or alternatively, a 🌸 who absolutely loves his courting techniques because their type is a pathetic wet cat type of a man and his actions are the pinnacle of desperate and pathetic.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hiii i luv ur work^^ can i request a fic where carmy get sucked off so good it makes his brain short-circuit a little? like he came home all tired and pent up n reader just "blow" it all away. wanna see this man get taken care of🥺 he's alway got so much on his mind i just wanna see him fucked till his brain is empty

Short Circuit.

Carmy doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Luckily, you do.

pairing - roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 1.8k

authors note - carmy’s a little bitch in this one!! mwahahaha!! to my love who requested - i’m sorry I ended up making him a bit pathetic here, but in my defence… he does give off the energy of a wet cat, so. this set in the roommates universe, but the fics have no particular order <3

if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which in turn creates more. <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Carmy blinks at you like a deer caught in headlights, confused and struggling to process.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Carmen. Sit the fuck down before I shove you there myself.”

You gesture at the couch only a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest expectantly.

He exhales shakily before placing his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, walking over to do as you ordered.

He’s never really been bossed around by you before. Sure, you scold him occasionally, warn him when he does something wrong, but never like this. He can’t tell if he likes it. He thinks that maybe he does.

He gets comfy on the couch, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his legs. His white t shirt spreads deliciously across his broad shoulders, tight and worn. His old flannel pyjama pants look so cosy, you itch to reach out and run your hand across them.

Carmy’s watching you curiously, waiting for your next move. He can’t predict what’s going to happen, which would usually make him nervous. But right now, he’s got electricity buzzing through his veins, crackling and charged.

You set your own mug down and saunter over in his direction, as if you have all the time in the world. You stop at the window and shut the blinds, smirking over your shoulder when he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”

Carmy’s breath hitches in his chest, panting with anticipation. You crack your knuckles and stretch your arms above your head, suppressing a laugh when you see his eyes glued to the skin you expose between your t shirt and pyjama pants.

You stand in front of where he’s sat, patient and waiting. You look so tall, looking down on him, so completely powerful. He’s suddenly very confused by his own feelings.

“I’m sick of you bitching and moaning,” you begin, dropping to your knees on the patterned rug. “So I’m gonna make you shut the fuck up.”

Carmy suddenly sits up straight, full attention captured.

“What?”

“God, do you ever listen, Carmen?”

He’s silenced by your rebuttal, so you continue.

“You’re stressed to the max, and you don’t know how to leave work at work. You bring it home, complain for hours, and then wonder why you can’t relax. You need to shut your brain off.”

Carmy swallows harshly, eyes never leaving yours.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re not. I’m gonna do it for you.”

With that, you rise up onto your knees so you’re face to face with your roommate.

“You okay with this?” you whisper, searching his features for any signs of trepidation.

“More than okay,” he breathes, leaning in to you. “Kiss me first? Please?”

You don’t think anyone would be able to resist him in this moment, when he looks and asks so pretty.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You press your lips to his gently, resting the waters. Carmy instantly pulls you in with his arms around your back, deepening the kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and take control, nipping at his bottom lip when he gets too cocky.

“I’m in charge,” you tell him lowly. “If you wanna stop, say stop. But otherwise, I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember your own name.”

Carmen’s eyes roll back at the promise, head hitting the sofa behind him as he groans. You settle back down between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants off and throwing them aside.

You trail open mouthed kisses up his thighs, starting at his knee and ending at his hip. Occasionally you bite down, soothing the sting with your tongue as you go. When he starts to fidget, you fully sink your teeth into his muscle, sharp and warning. He flinches, and you smirk.

“Patience, Carmen.”

“Don’t wanna be fuckin’ patient,” he grumbles under his breath, petulant as ever.

You look up at him firmly, and he gets the message.

Running your fingers up and down his thigh, you sit and enjoy the way goosebumps rise across his skin. You’re on a power trip, buzzing with the adrenaline of having a man like Carmy at your mercy.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you tease, before dancing your fingertips across the material of his boxers. His hips buck up into your hand and you relent, pulling his underwear down and off in one quick move.

He hisses as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin, the combination of sensations overwhelming.

You kiss along his hipbones, tasting salt and the musk that’s so Carmy. Nudging your nose into the juncture of his thigh, you chuckle when he shudders.

“Please, babe.”

“What do you want, Carm?”

“Just- just do something, please. Anything.”

Maybe it’s the rare show of manners, or maybe it’s his pleading tone, but you finally take pity on him. Grasping him in your hand, you give your wrist an experimental twist, biting your lip when he groans.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all breathy and strained. He sounds so pretty like this, all loose limbed and pliable. “Shit, babe. Yeah.”

You take your time learning what he likes. Twisting, pulling, applying a little pressure. Carmy is writhing in his seat, completely unable to keep still. You keep pushing his hips back down firmly, putting him in his place.

He has his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back into the couch cushions, gorgeous neck exposed. You take him by surprise by wrapping your lips around him, sucking gently. His hand flies to your head, grasping for grip, for any kind of anchor.

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist as you hollow your cheeks. You rake the nails of your other hand down his thigh, squeezing occasionally to let him know you’re still good.

You feel his muscles go tense, knuckles gripping the cushion underneath him. He’s right on the edge - you can sense it.

So, you stop.

You pull away completely, laughing when his eyes shoot open, brows furrowed together.

“W-what? What the fuck? Why’d you stop?”

“Because I can.”

Carmy doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a sarcastic response. Instead, he sinks further into the couch, looking down at you with those big blue eyes.

“Babe.”

“So whiny. Jesus, Carmen, have some self respect.”

On any other day, he wouldn’t take that lying down. He’d sass you twice as hard, smirking when you roll your eyes. But today, he doesn’t have it in him.

“Please.”

“Oh you sound so pretty when you beg.”

He blushes, heat blooming up his chest and across his cheeks. He reaches out and traces your lips with his thumb, a tender gesture among all of the filth currently occurring.

“Do it more.”

He blinks at you, wondering if he heard you correctly.

“What?”

“Listen for once in your life, Berzatto. I said, do it more. Beg. Beg for it, and I’ll make you come.”

Carmy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He’s never seen this side of you before - in all honesty, you didn’t know it existed. He’s discovering a lot about himself tonight, and as confusing as it is, he’s loving it.

“Please, honey. Please.”

You click your tongue disapprovingly, shaking your head.

“Nuh uh. I want you to beg so hard that I am dripping, Carmen. Make it count.”

“You’re getting off on this,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You mime tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist, signalling him to hurry up. In reality, you’d kneel here on the rug all night if he wanted, content to watch him all high strung and flushed.

“Okay, okay. Sweetheart, please. Fuck, I need it. Need it so bad. Need you so bad. Just- give me anything, something, please.”

His voice has gone all breathy, shaky and unsure. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and the mental image of him crying because of you turns you on more than it should.

“Oh baby,” you coo. “Was that so hard? Hmm?”

He shakes his head, bitten lip between his teeth.

“Gonna give you what you need now, because you were so good. My pretty, pretty boy.”

It might be your tone, or it might be because you called him your boy, but Carmy melts. He’s nothing but a puddle, mewling and panting, no coherent thoughts left in his brain.

You get back to work, hollowing your cheeks and working whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your soft hands. You swirl your tongue, pressing it to the underside of him when you pull back slightly for air.

You wonder, for a second, if you’ve broken your roommate. Nonsense is leaving his lips in constant streams, babbling under his breath like he’s lost his mind.

“Yeah baby, keep going please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck you’re so good, s’good, so good.”

“Just wanna come, please honey, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

“Ohhh, yesyesyes, oh fuck, thank you baby, shit.”

You keep humming in response, and the vibrations are Carmy’s undoing. His hips jolt upwards as his back arches off the couch, fingers scrambling for purchase. He hits the back of your throat and you groan, letting him ride it out however he needs. He relaxes back into his original position, body completely spent.

You squeeze his thigh to get his attention, making sure he watches as you swallow everything he’s given to you. He groans, low and tired, shaking his head with a smile on his face. You rest your head on his leg, looking up at him.

“You good, Carm?”

He nods, trying to gather the energy to answer you properly.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I genuinely think I’ve never been better.”

You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, all slow and saccharine.

“I can’t move. Think you’ve ruined me.”

“That was the plan,” you wink, standing up and pulling his boxers back up his legs.

You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, watching as he downs it all in one go. Sitting next to him on the couch, he pulls you into his side, slotting you there perfectly.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the evening dusk of the room. “Not just for making me come harder than I ever have in my life. But, you know… for everything.”

You chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

“Next time you have a bad day, I’m gonna throw you on the couch and eat you out until you cry.”

You groan, pinching his thigh in warning.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

@enigmaticloki @kaelabear @idontexist-anymore @jazminsjaz @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

the sandman but i've never read or watched it

Hello this is the Good Omens Mascot and I am currently being kidnapped again. Into the Sandman fandom. Forcibly. Brutally. By several people. There will be bloodshed. There will be livestreams, probably, when I watch the show. My struggle is Endless and I can only Dream of an escape (I'm hilarious). But before I watch it, I'm legally obligated to make this post. Soooo... here goes, based on like two edits on YT I watched:

@neil-gaiman created it. Of this at least I am sure.

There is Dream/Morpheus, and he is a sad wet cat of a man.

He has a sister Delirium, and apparently I remind everyone of her. This concerns me. Also, she used to be Delight.

I am not sure what these people are but they are Endless.

I'll tell you what's Endless, it's my gayness, because MY GOD, Dream is beautiful.

The sad wet cat of a man has a friend (/homoerotic) named Hob.

Hob is also a sad wet cat of a man.

Dream has a raven. The raven dies.

Someone is blamed. But Dream says it's his own fault.

Dream's family thinks he's deserted them. Dream also thinks this is his own fault.

I'm started to think Dream maybe has some repressed trauma.

Despair and Desire look gay for each other. Or they're siblings. Idk. Despair was in Dead Boy Detectives. That I do know, because FUCK YEAH DBDA.

Death exists, and she's kind. I think. She was also in DBDA.

It's gay. This I am assured of.

What's gay? Who's gay? I don't fucking know. But it's gay.

Did I mention I'm gay? Because god I'm now a sucker for yet another sad pathetic wet cat of a twink.

There's someone with glasses who tells Dream stuff. idk who they are but they seem important. So uh. They exist.

Dream cares a lot. But he Hides It Behind A Facade.

Did I mention he's fucking pretty?

...Please don't kill me Sandman fandom I was kidnapped here I swear I'm innocent.

[mitsies]

SWEET NOTHINGS - gojo satoru . . this love, he thinks, might just be limitless.

some days are harder than others. today is particularly hard.

it's a cold tuesday night. the sky outside is bluer than blue, like the ocean on a television screen. it's easy for gojo satoru to lose himself on occasions like this.

it's not quiet, but sound is dulled. he hears the traffic outside his all-too-big apartment's window, and he hears the cat next door on the balcony meowing to be let in. but it's all so muffled, like there's water in his ears. the blue skies are suffocating, muting everything that falls under them. the world is underwater. his head feels all wrong.

there's nothing to be done now. he's finished at work, and everything else is covered, too. there is nothing left to distract him from his thoughts tonight. tonight, there are a million things happening in his head, drowning everything else out. tonight, while he is safe at home, he has never felt more at risk. tonight, he is truly, horribly alone.

satoru doesn't remember stepping into the shower. he doesn't remember polishing off the bottle of alcohol that's sitting on the bathroom counter, and thank god he doesn't remember its bitter taste. he doesn't remember the showerhead turning on, either. but at some point, his eyes refocus, and he's sitting on the cold, wet tile of his guest bathroom's shower. it's undecorated. there are no traces of life. not a shampoo bottle or stray hair, or a shaving razor or soap stains. the shower water is freezing. it stings and nips at his skin, a sharp-toothed animal, biting and chilling. if he could focus enough, satoru is sure he'd feel the ice building on his bones, as the water pelts his bareness like a knife into skin.

there are certain things that haunt him. that will always haunt him, it seems. that will be at the back of his mind until he is alone, like they are waiting to catch him. satoru is a man made of sin. he's the epitome of a system made to kill the only people who could even begin to try and understand him. he is the crown jewel of an empire built on blood. and he has seen dozens of people he's loved slip out of his grasp, just like that. oh, of course it's the nights, the nights just like these, where they come back to whisper in his ear. to tell him it's his fault— he already knows. this is redundant. he knows it's all his fault. he can smell the blood on his hands; coppery, metallic, and staining his skin. of course he knows.

satoru, for all his hypervigilance, doesn't notice the footsteps approaching, gently sounding on the bathroom tile. no, he doesn't know you're there until you call his name.

he'd know your voice anywhere. it's a part of him. your voice, saying his name. he likes it when you say it. it makes him feel better, somehow. he thinks you know this too, which is why you say it again. it's less of a question and more of a quiet exclamation. he wonders how this looks to you. a grown man, sitting on the shower floor, trapped in his own head. probably as pathetic as he feels. he should be better. he's 22, and acting like a teenager. he needs to be better. so he plasters on a typical, brazen smile and tips his head to see you. you're difficult to make out through the running water, which runs down the glass. he hopes you don't hear the rasp in his voice when he greets you, "hey."

it's out of character. you know him well enough to know that. maybe satoru would be more embarrassed, and maybe he'd try harder to act like nothing was wrong. but again— you know him. better than anyone else, anymore. you know him and you love him regardless. this much he knows is true, although he questions how much he deserves it. you've seen him through it all before. his good days, his bad ones, too.

his mind is still fuzzy, but you're opening the shower door and turning the water off. you comment about how cold it is, before kneeling down in front of him. your shoes are still on, so he tells you: "your shoes are on."

you give him a look. he knows that look. it's the 'don't question me right now' look. you're so pretty, satoru thinks. you wrinkle your nose when he exhales— he wonders if you smell the drink on his breath. "i was worried."

your hands are warm, so warm, against his cold, damp skin. a gentle touch travels from his shoulder down his arm. you treat him like he's made of glass. it's nice, for a change. he leans into your touch. you frown. "are you drunk?"

"uh.. a few sips."

he likes that you smile. it's a sad smile, but it's still a smile. "such a lightweight, satoru."

there you go, saying his name again. he hopes you touch his arm some more; your hands are so warm. and his wishes are granted, when your gentle touch moves to lift him up off the floor of the shower. he lets himself lean on you, and his face falls to your hair. it still smells the same as it did back in school. kind of floral. he likes your shampoo. maybe he'd steal it later.

you guide him out the shower and he realises just how cold he was. so it's a good thing that you bring him to his bedroom. the pillows smell like your hair. the sheets are soft and warm.

it's by memory, how you navigate his bedroom with ease. you know it like it's your own home. and he supposes that much might be true— you sleep here more than you do your own place. satoru had known you for years now. and he'd loved you years, too. but a couple of years after school, you'd been stationed off in another country to help a struggling community. you were time zones away for far too long. only recently had you returned— half a year ago, now. he hadn't moved house since you left so you'd always have somewhere familiar. he didn't touch the things you'd left, either, anticipating the day you'd come back.

satoru wonders if this is what you'd expected going into a relationship with him. he seems confident, he seems vibrant. you fell in love with his good days. you fell in love with that 99%, who he was 364 days out of the year. did you see the 1%, the 1 day, the bad day, coming? regardless of if you did, you stayed. he feels fuzzy.

you're back by his side now. a towel in hand, you dry his hair with nimble, careful fingers. you treat him like something delicate. like he's important. like he's broken, and like he's allowed to be. you press a kiss to his scalp and say something he doesn't really hear.

"you're so pretty," he mumbles as you pull away. you give him a little smile, and suddenly, satoru is jealous of your bedsheets, and how they can cradle you whilst you sleep. he’s jealous of your nails that get to cling to your fingers. he’s jealous of the scar on your left shoulder, because he wasn’t the one who gave it to you. he is so in love with you it aches. he is so empty, and so full of this love. the paradox makes him sick.

so when your hand trails across his jaw and pulls away, he holds it in place, so you're cradling his face. the pressure of your hand feels nice— he is so drawn to your touch.

"so pretty," he mumbles again, and this time you laugh. with your free hand, you card through his hair, water droplets making your fingers come away wet. "thank you, satoru. thank you."

deftly, you pry his hand off yours so you're free, much to his grumbled protests. you bite your lip to hide the size of the grin that cuts across your cheeks. your lover has always been a funny drunk, when he's not a sad one. usually, the two go hand-in-hand. it makes you sad, seeing him like this. you want nothing but happiness for him forever. you suppose it comes with the territory. you have bad days too. but you're allowed to feel. satoru is the strongest. he's meant to be good always, to protect, to serve, to be everything but not okay forever and ever. so you've come to think of yourself as lucky, to be able to have and hold him through both the good, and the bad.

among the practices you'd picked up in your time abroad, you've learned how to put your love in your touch. grabbing a small jar from the bedside table, a palmful of oil finds itself in your palm. when you'd first shown this to satoru, he'd been delighted— he'd said something along the lines of you being his personal spa treatment, with a gauchely suggestive look. you'd rolled your eyes then. but now, you take your place sitting behind him by the pillows, and he clambers in front of you by instinct. he doesn't move in a straight line and you try not to laugh. his head and shoulders fall into your lap and his eyes flutter up to gaze at you. they're half-lidded, and exhausted. there's a weight behind them that is not visible most days.

hands beginning in his hair, you watch those eyes flutter shut. they squeeze closed for a moment before he lets himself relax into your touch. deftly, with ease, you work through his hair. it's made easy by how much he maintains it— satoru is relentless about his beauty regiments— so it doesn't take long before you shift to his shoulders and upper arms.

his skin is still cold, but you feel it grow warmer beneath your touch. he's tense and rigid, and you take immense pleasure in the way his body loosens like a wire uncoiling. eyes following your hands, you observe him. the freckles on his back and upper arms are like splatters of paint in a canvas. intentionally unintentional, like the speckled on a fawn’s flank. a scar decorates his shoulder blade, from a time before infinity. he is so beautiful, even when he isn't trying. you're sick and full of love.

at some point, his breathing grows even. he's asleep in your lap. you keep rotating between carding through his hair and running your palms across his upper body with the tenderness only a lover could hold. satoru looks peaceful when he sleeps. you wonder what he might be dreaming of. bad dreams, perhaps? you don't think so. not tonight. his brow remains still, and his eyes are shut lightly, not pulled together. you lean down and plant a kiss to his temple.

gojo satoru was only human. and just like any other human, he had his ups and he had his downs. there would always be bad days to chase the good. but he knows, and you know, that there will always be you, too, to help the bad days feel a little better. you are always there to understand, to hold him and help him up, to make everything a little more okay again.

you let him know that it's alright. that tomorrow is a new day. that tomorrow, he can try again. yes, tomorrow will be better, satoru believes, so long as he has you.

this fic is rough, to say the least, but i wanted to celebrate the loml's bday so!! hi!! alternative title: gojo oiled up butt booty naked like the 4th of july

[convolutedblasphemy]

I wasn't shitting you guys btw I actually made the one-sided radiostatic playlists

here is my lyrical masterpiece. both the vox version and the alastor one. done my best to make it as lyrically accurate as possible. @styrofauxm @onesidedradiostatic i hope you enjoy this (go check out the full lyrics for the songs on google if you can't listen to it but i recommend it because all of these are bangers) feat. my stupid commentary and vox's pathetic wet cat energy

Click to listen to the Vox one on YouTube

1. the hearse — matt maeson

thought this one fit so well lyrically. the "what was it like to feel in love" part i interpreted as vox asking himself that rather than alastor

❞ i am the man we both couldn't stand, i can't wash off the dirt from my hands, what was it like to feel in love? [...] i will never go backwards, i will never be free, i will never run faster; will you sink down to me? ❝

2. i'm just ken — ryan gosling

i'm not even adding lyrics to this one, everyone should have seen the barbie movie and this song at this point. this just HAD to be in there. can you feel the kenergy?

3. too many friends — placebo

less about alastor, more about vox's existential crisis

❞ my computer thinks I'm gay, i threw that piece of junk away on the champs-elysées as I was walking home. this is my last communique, down the superhighway. all that I have left to say in a single tome... ❝

4. creep — radiohead

i mean isn't this literally his theme song?

❞ when you were here before... couldn't look you in the eye. you're just like an angel. your skin makes me cry. you float like a feather in a beautiful world. i wish I was special. you're so fuckin' special. but I'm a creep, i'm a weirdo, what the hell am I doin' here? ❝

5. where evil grows — the poppy family

y'all seen the sonic movie? we need to see vox do that dance.

❞ i like the way you smile at me, i felt the heat that enveloped me and what i saw i liked to see. i never knew where evil grew. i should have steered away from you, my friend told me to keep clear of you but something drew me near to you ❝

6. one of us — ava max

i had to edit this one a bit in the video and cut out the part about the kissing because that for sure didn't happen

❞ one of us would die for love; one of us would give it up. one of us would risk it all; one of us won't even call. one of us could say goodbye, never even bat an eye... ❝

7. colorblind — amber riley

more pathetic wet cat energy brought to you by yours truly

❞ i don't think that i'll ever find that silver lining or reason to smile. you know i used to paint such vibrant dreams, now I'm colorblind, colorblind. when did my heart get so full of never mind, never mind? did you know that you stole the only thing I needed? ❝

8. arcade — duncan lawrence

more pathetic wet cat energy brought to you by yours truly

❞ a broken heart is all that's left. i'm still fixing all the cracks. lost a couple of pieces when i carried it, carried it, carried it home. i've spent all of the love I saved. we were always a losing game; small town boy in a big arcade, i got addicted to a losing game... all i know, all i know: loving you is a losing game. ❝

9. if i can't have you — skylar astin

i picked the version from zoey's extraordinary playlist on purpose because the context of this scene is that the dude who sings it hires a bunch of singers and dancers to confess in a public space as you, the viewer, sit there and cringe at him as he gets rejected. if that doesn't have vox energy, i don't know what does.

❞ i'm good at keepin' my distance (lie), i know that you're the feelin' I'm missing. you know that I hate to admit it but everything means nothin' if I can't have you. i can't write one song that's not about you, can't drink without thinkin' about you. is it too late to tell you that everything means nothing if I can't have you? ❝

10. do you want me (dead)? — all time low

when vox asks himself whether alastor wants him or wants him dead it's definitely the second option.

❞ i let it ride on a bet, i doubled down on a sinking ship; need a second to catch my breath: do you want me? or do you want me dead? oh, give it up for at least a second; i'm getting sick of your bullshit attitude and how you walk around like you shine brighter, it's killing me, so what do you say? do you want me? or do you want me dead? ❝

11. push — ryan gosling

i can't just put one musical number from the barbie movie in and not include the other one that fits equally as well.

❞ said, i don't know if I've ever been good enough. i'm a little bit rusty and I think my head is cavin' in. and I don't know if I've ever been really loved by a hand that's touched me, and I feel like something's got to give and I'm a little bit angry, well, this ain't over, no, not here, no; not while I still need you around. ❝

Ice-cold rejection & vicious mockery: Alastor's version

the contrast of this is the best part.

Click here to listen to the Alastor one on YouTube

1. little big boy — madds buckley

he doesn't go easy on him. this is 0 compassion and 100% roast.

❞ brimstone fire and eyes aglow, little big boy's making the whole world know his name. raised on pillars and shining lights, breathing smoke for the right to keep his place. never satisfied 'till they all see how big this little boy can be. well the water's rising; tide's comin' in. does little big boy know how to swim in a pond filled with fish bigger than him? ❝

2. i help you hate me — sunrise avenue

he's so helpful fr but it's not working unfortunately

❞ i broke many hearts throughout my days. yours was the hardest one to face. though, I've never been a saint, i still love you every day, just not the lover kind of way. i know you wanna see me falling out, falling out the window. i know you wanna see me crashing down, crashing with my plane. baby, i'm way too young to die but I'll help you get over me. ❝

3. no surprise — daughtry

this is one of my favorite bands, i'm glad i got to include this.

❞ it came out like a river once i let it out when i thought that i wouldn't know how. held onto it forever just pushing it down, felt so good to let go of it now. not wrapping this in ribbons, shouldn't have to give a reason why: it's no surprise i won't be here tomorrow, i can't believe that I stayed 'til today. there's nothing here in this heart left to borrow. there's nothing here in this soul left to save. don't be surprised when we hate us tomorrow. ❝

4. go screw yourself — avery

i can picture him 1:1 delivering a swing version of this when vox confesses to him

❞ i know i've been holding it in, the way i feel about you. something i've been dying to say but I don't know how you'll take it; oh please don't go; you should know these three words i've been holding back; trying to fight, i'mma let 'em out... these three words, gotta let you know, here I go: go screw yourself. i've had enough, yeah, now we're done. ❝

5. the audacity — emelyn

this one's such a bop honestly. had to cut it in the video because i can't picture alastor realistically crying over anything vox-related.

❞ think your opinions should be broadcast... even though no one's subscribing, listening or liking but by all means, keep whining. must be tough if life's so rough. you should buy a mic, start a podcast, even though, wait, nobody asked. [...] where do all these men find the audacity? no actually, i'm stunned by your stupidity. ❝

6. friends — halocene

this one had to be on here.

❞ have you got no shame? you're looking insane turning up at my door. it's two in the morning, the rain is pouring, haven't we been here before? [...] so don't go look at me with that look in your eye, you really ain't going away without a fight. you can't be reasoned with, i'm done being polite. i've told you one, two, three, four, five, six thousand times. haven't I made it obvious? haven't I made it clear? want me to spell it out for you? f-r-i-e-n-d-s ❝

7. can't catch me now — olivia rodrigo

he likes the attention def especially after his return

❞ bet you thought i'd never do it, thought it'd go over my head. i bet you figured i'd pass with the winter, be somethin' easy to forget. oh, you think i'm gone 'cause i left but i'm in the trees, i'm in the breeze, my footsteps on the ground. you'll see my face in every place but you can't catch me now. through wading grass, the months will pass, you'll feel it all around. i'm here, i'm there, i'm everywhere but you can't catch me now ❝

8. take a hint — victoria justice & elizabeth gillies

this is on every rejection playlist and it's gonna be on mine too. a bop even after all these years.

❞ ask me for my number, yeah, you put me on the spot. you think that we should hook up, but I think that we should not. you had me at "hello", then you opened up your mouth and that is when it started going south. [...] what about "no" don't you get? so go and tell your friends i'm not really interested. it's about time that you're leavin', i'm gonna count to three and open my eyes and you'll be gone ❝

9. no — madilyn bailey & megan nicole

more rejection for y'all. the world needs more mean aroaces and this playlist is my contribution.

❞ first you gonna say you ain't runnin' game, thinking i'm believing every word; call me beautiful, so original, telling me I'm not like other girls, i was in my zone before you came along, now i'm thinking maybe you should go ❝

10. oh no — marina and the diamonds

a classic.

❞ don′t do love, don't do friends; i′m only after success. don't need a relationship, i'll never soften my grip [...] i know exactly what i want and who i want to be. i know exactly why i walk and talk like a machine. i'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy. ❝

Reblogs are appreciated!

[bas-writes]

nonsexual acts of intimacy ↬ one falling asleep with their head in the other's lap

❧ choso x gn!reader | cw: established relationship, alcohol ❧

"Sorry, Y/N." Ino scratches the back of his head, trying to look everywhere but at your face. "We really had no idea he'd be done with one beer."

You left Choso with the guys a half hour ago at best. You needed only a quick run to a drug store before you would meet with Nitta who promised to drop the both of you off at your place by the way. And your boyfriend only wanted to socialize with Yuji's seniors—like any good older brother would. It wasn't even a party, none of the heaviest drinkers were present, so you were sure this time no one would get an idea to test Choso's tolerance for various…substances. He was too eager to be dragged into party tricks, for his own demise. You hoped that at least this time you would find him in one piece.

Hope clearly hasn't even tried to cooperate with you tonight.

Nitta pats your back with an understanding smile as the others nudge Choso towards the back seat, "I've driven worse, don't worry."

With a sigh, you take place by Choso's side and throw shopping back on the shotgun. Cool air of November night has sobered him up a little; he adjusts his position straight and looks around, confused, until he meets your eyes—and smiles bright, like a lost child who's just found mother in the crowd.

"Sorry, Y/N, I—"

You tap his lips, shutting him down mid sentence, "I'm not mad. It's no one's fault. Just focus on sobering up and not messing Nitta's car, alright?"

Choso's gaze flicks down, towards your thighs, then quickly returns back to your eye level, the urging question pushed away before it even made it to his lips. For a big puppy he is, he's shy with affection, especially in front of others. You can't blame him—the labyrinth of human relations is difficult for someone who's spent a crushing majority of his life trapped in isolation.

"It's alright." You pat your lap with an invitation. "It will help you, right?"

One last look at Nitta's back later he's shimming closer, like a cat filling the limited space with himself until he's in his longed-for position. Lantern lights make the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more

Choso gasps under your touch, even too loud for a company on the third wheel in the front seat, and nuzzles into your palm. Drunk eyes have a problem with keeping focus, with each new blink he's falling closer to his previous state, until his happy-go-lucky smile has nothing to do with the bashful, introverted boyfriend he is without the alcoholic fuel.

"You're so cute, Y/N." He confesses, his words plain despite the maze spilled all over his burning face. "Your partner must be sooo lucky."

Nitta doesn't try to hide a loud snort, but you bite on the inner side of your cheek, equally amused and worried you might fit your laughter exactly in the second of sobriety. 

You brush loose strands off his forehead, with a smile watching him finally giving in to the power of liquor, eyelids falling shut, breath easing into soft snores, "He is. The luckiest and happiest man in the world, I bet."

a/n: choso has the pathetic wet meow meow energy and I just couldn't stop myself from bullying him a little 🤭

[vechter]

imagining my ideal post-forever evil world where bruce is the one to inform the bats and the rest of the world that dick is dead and tim is DEVASTATED. he is immediately ready to go on an insane guilt-fuelled suicidal mission to bring dick back because he refuses to believe his first brother, the first robin, the last flying grayson is DEAD (this is the kid who believed bruce was alive based off a shitty white man portrait and pure vibes) and then there's a very public funeral where he sees bruce is not grieving the way tim knows him to, the way tim has witnessed first hand after jason AND damian- bc who is this bruce wayne who's acting sort of normal on patrol, who is very much okay existing in a world where his eldest, his beloved first-born is dead? so tim does a little bit of research (maybe he recruits kon to go bully lex luthor about the Truth of it all or maybe selina just takes pity on how pathetic n wet-cat-like tim is) and figures out dick is very much alive! and surely! it cannot be that easy??? because why would bruce and dick lie about this? so he shows up at st. hadrian's and we get some classic dick and tim shenanigans where both of them refuse to believe the other person is actually there so it's a big came of cat and mouse except they both think they're the cat and mouse simultaneously and tiger is just watching this whole thing unfold wondering why none of these superheroes can be normal for a fucking second okay- then we get a mid-fight moment where one of them is in mortal peril and they both collectively lose brain cells and any impulse control and we get a heart-wrenching reunion and dick tells him i knew you'd figure it out, bruce is an idiot for thinking he could fool you and tim, who was very much worried this is some insane cloning situation (bc lex luthor was involved so how could any of it be this simple, this easy?) launches himself at dick because of course you're alive, i couldn't possibly exist in a world where my brother is dead. anyway-

[bluegiragi]

I love your version of König, he’s such a pathetic wet cat of a man and I want to give him a fluffy blanket and a hug

I'm sure he appreciates the attention on some level

[denileisariver]

pairing: batman aka bruce wayne x f!reader

summary: in which batman mistakes you for a prostitute, so might as well give him a treat, right?

warnings: no actual smut :(, mentions of non-con but nothing actually happens, implied age gap, no physical descriptions of reader besides having hair long enough to pull, reader doesn't make the best decisions, readers' also probably touch starved with attachment issues but that's okay twin <3

a/n: poorly paced just like everything else i write :) might make a part 2, idk yet :/

you never thought you'd end up here..

yea right, who were you kidding? dressing up in tight shirts and mini skirts, stumbling around gotham in pleaser heels you could barely walk in. you were surprised this hasn't happened sooner.

you'd always been cat-called and hollered at by desperate horny men, looking to get their dicks wet. guess this time, one of them finally got sick of you not ever giving it up.

rubble crunches beneath you, whatever nasty grime on the street of the empty alleyway staining your skin when you're forced onto your knees. dirty hands pull and grab onto your hair to hold you in place. you feel like screaming, but you're frozen, like a deer in headlights.

"c'mon bitch, show me what you got,"

you whimper a bit at one of his painful tugs, tears threatening to well up. you're sure you look pathetic right now, letting this stranger contort your body to his will, not even putting up a fight. and he seems to get off on it, too. one of his free hands begin to pull down the zipper at the seat of his pants, a disgusting, toothy grin on his face that you wish you could smack off of him.

"so glad i met you tonight, love, or else i woulda missed the perfect opportunity to ruin your pretty little cu-" his words are cut off from him, those large wretched hands pulled off of you before you could even blink.

that's when you see him. angry and seething, beating the man that was just about to violate you damn near half to death. batman, knocking in the teeth of the sad man whose pleading for his life like he wasn't just about to ruin yours.

you're stuck in place, just watching, until his face is unrecognizable, dripping with his own blood. it's only then that he finally stops to look at you.

"it's okay, you're safe now."

his voice in low, something deep from his chest that sends chills down your spine. he towers over you, still knelt on the ground from shock, lending out a gloved hand that was still covered in your assailants blood. and you take it.

"are you hurt?" just mentally, you think. when you don't respond immediately, his eyes scan over your body, noticing the scrape on your knee, and you notice it the same time he does.

"i'm fine.. thank you," it's the first thing you say to him. this moment will be forever ingrained in your memory. ever since you were a little girl, you've heard stories of batman. the man who patrolled these streets every damn night, made criminals live in fear, and protected the helpless. you never thought you'd be standing face to face with him.

"it's dangerous, you shouldn't be working these streets this time of night," he grumbles, handing you crumbled up cash that you assume belongs to the man he just beat the shit out of. it isn't yours, but you don't tell batman that, and hesitantly stuff the dollars in your purse. wait.. working these streets? what's that supposed to mean?

your eyes flick up to him in confusion, and that's when you realize. oh.. he thinks you're a sex worker. you guess you shouldn't be surprised. i mean, who in their right mind walks around looking the way you do, a bit tipsy after leaving the bar, at three in the morning in the narrows? prostitutes, apparently. and also apparently, batman seems to think you look like one.

stunned to silence once again by him, twice in the span of less than twenty minutes, you stare up at him with your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of how to even respond to that.

"let me take care of you." is all he says when he realizes you won't add more, a surprisingly gentle hand pulling you towards the batmobile that you didn't even notice was there. your eyes focus in on his hands, and how they could easily wrap around your wrists and arms like nothing.

let me take care of you.

those words repeat in your head, soft and comforting, and you can't explain why. maybe it's cause you haven't been taken care of since you ran away from home, haven't had anyone to protect and provide for you. and you miss it. not that you ever really had much of it to begin with.

he sits you on top of the hood of the car, not even attempting to make conversation while he dresses your wound, carefully cleaning and applying ointment to the cut. his demeanor is almost in stark contrast of what it was just mere moments ago, touching you like you were a fragile glass doll, threatening to break if he applied too much pressure.

you take the small time you have around him to take a really good look at him. batman, right in front of you. a leather cowl that was covered in cuts, armor littered in bullet holes. the only skin that was available to your eyes was his mouth. you could practically feel your own mouth watering, noticing the grey hair that was seeping into his scruff. and those damn lips that looked so kissable.

no.. that isn't right. you shouldn't be lusting over this man just because he saved your life. but then again, you'd always gotten clingy towards guys who showed you the kind of attention you craved, even if you barely knew 'em. you're too caught up in your thoughts to notice him finishing up. "it's rude to stare, y'know?"

"shit, i'm sorry," you stutter out, face flushed in embarrassment. you coulda swore for a split second you saw a smirk on his face, but if it was there, it's gone before you can confirm it.

"it's fine.. let me take you home."

well, there goes that fleeting feeling of actually being taken care of. admired felt like too big of a word to describe it, but that's what it felt like, even if it was just for a couple of short minutes. you don't know why it disappoints you so much that you won't be able to see him any longer, even if it was because someone put your life at risk.

the only thing you can think about while he drives you home is how much more of it you wanted. more affection, more of someone who just cared enough to ask if you were okay, how your day was. you hear him talk about how you should take care of yourself, and it only reminds you of how earlier he assumed you were prowling the streets, looking to sell yourself for cash.

"I'm not a prostitute." you finally tell him.

the rubbery leather of his gloves strain beneath his grasp, hold tightening on the steering wheel. you can see his jaw clench a bit, and you can only assume your confession catches him by surprise. "what?" his eyes flicker over to you, looking over your skimpy outfit.

"i.. was just walking home after a night out." you explain, swallowing a bit when you notice his eyes focused on your legs probably a bit longer than intended. "and thank you.. for saving me."

he's quiet for a moment, seemingly in thought. whatever was on his mind, you'll never know, but you wanted so damn much to know. your heart aches a bit, knowing your apartment was just around the corner.

"i'm sorry that i misinterpreted that," he begins slowly, turning onto your block until the vehicle was stopped right in front of the tiny place you called home. "and you don't have to thank me." and that was the last thing he ever said to you, at least for now you hoped..

he exits the car, opening your door and helping you step out, too wobly on your own heels to stand up right. before you part ways, you make eye contact for a long moment, taking him in as much as possible before he disappeared from you completely. "goodbye, batman."

something about it is melancholic, a look in your eyes that bruce couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. he watches you enter the apartment, staying there for a couple of seconds to ensure your safety, before entering the batmobile again to finish patrol for the night.

he sits there in silence for a moment, his brain rewinding the entire interaction with you. maybe you were just feeling down because of what almost happened to you, or maybe it was something else. a part of him thought maybe you were lonely, and he only suspected that because he felt lonely too. his gaze moves over to the passenger seat where you were just mere seconds ago, and that's when he sees it.

red lace panties, sprawled out of the floor of the car.

you must've taken them off in a hurry when he was going to open your door for you. you take him by surprise for the second time this night, his hands quickly going over to grab them and inspecting the material. they're wet. the cloth is darkened and damp, slick glistening in what little light there was available.

bruce feels his cock jump in excitement at the sight, strained in the tightness of his pants. he subconsciously licks his lips, the urge to put them to his nose or even taste your juices creeping up on him, but he resists. what a naughty girl, he thinks to himself, a tiny grin forming on his face. bruce pockets them for later, looking over your apartment once more, seeing your familiar shadow in one of the windows.

no, this would definitely not be the last time you meet the batman.