#this was a bullshit stupid patch

[ivorysodapop]

Fucked up Taichi Amagi AU you are so important to me

[adrianfridge]

Truly the only way to have a good fandom experience is to find the people with whom you share at least 75% of the same opinions and can agree to disagree about the remaining 25%

[cyber-flight]

Reminder once again that if you stan or support Dream in any way you are not welcome here and genuinely need to get help. I've seen how much some people are trying to defend him in any way, including isolating themselves, and I don't wish that upon anyone

I have not and will not ever associate or know much about the dsmp or anything to do with it, but those allegations were enough to dissuade me when they came out (not that I particularly had any interest in it anyway tbh). Now that he's made a video about them with literally no proof to exonerate himself, this is even more my stance.

If you support him in any way get help and stop and look the situation or prepare to be blocked by many people, myself included.

[ruthlesslistener]

Okay having now seen Jurassic Park in full I can say:

a.) Everybody telling me not to bring back the dinosaurs because they're dangerous is full of shit, all these animals are attacking people because they are VASTLY underfed and understimulated. The entire movie was the animals toying with them bc they were bored and likely hungry, not because carnivores just...do that. The entire animal care team and handling was a goddamn disaster. C-

b.) The geneticists were fucking stupid, who the FUCK would patch AMPHIBIAN DNA into REPTILES, they're as distantly related to them as amphibians are to us!! Use bird DNA!! Or DNA from other reptiles! Fuck!!!

c.) On the same note, whoever thought to use all female dinosaurs was huffing paint thinners bc fucking. DAMN IT. PARTHINOGENISIS IS A THING IN REPTILES. YOU DONT EVEN NEED FANCY AMPHIBIAN DNA FOR THAT I AM RATTLING THEIR GENETICISTS BY THE SCRUFF OF THE NECK WITH MY TEETH ARE YOU ALL FUCKING IDIOTS

d.) The lysine contingency plan wouldn't have worked as a useful failsafe because it would have taken too long for the animals to run out of lysine to halt their metabolisms- the killswitch idea is excellent tho and is a legit tactic used for transgenic organisms so A+ for them implimenting that there. I don't exactly have an alternative method either bc I'm not good with metabolism, I just know that depriving them of lysine would likely be bullshit

e.) All the kill scenes were waaay too censored and way less people died than I thought :( major salt to my dad for not letting me watching this as a kid because it would be 'too scary' or 'make me violent' bc this shit was a letdown for how tame it was. Still a good movie but very much not a horror movie

f.) This is an outstanding movie about the hubris of man but I see now why people would think that the moral of the story is 'playing god and bringing back dinosaurs bad' when its really 'billionares are fucking idiots and should trust a wide variety of scientists'. Hammond chose a bunch of fucking idiots to help run his park and trying to monetize living creatures is never a good thing. This is why peer review exists!! This is why its important!!!

g.) this film reminded me that i will never see a living non-avian dinosaur irl and i am sad :(

[pocketbelt]

they announced one of the main writers for FFXIV: Dawntrail is the one who wrote the Shadowbringers trial series, "Sorrow of Werlyt", and the amount of people going "ew no that's the one that redeems Gaius" drives me kind of insane

That storyline takes Gaius and says "Behold this idiot, watch and be stunned as everything he ever said to anyone turned out to be fucking obviously wrong. Watch as the fascist imperialist philosophy he ingrained into his beloved children makes them run to their deaths, even as he pleads them not to, and they tell him to fuck himself and do it anyway. Marvel as he watches them die by your hand, you, who destroyed Gaius himself at the peak of his life, and he can do nothing to stop it", and that's a redemption arc to people

The only surviving kid only makes it because her brother acts to protect her, she doesn't make it because of any act of Gaius'

The entire story is literally "In case you somehow missed it in ARR and most of Stormblood, everything Gaius believed in was horseshit and there's no such thing as a 'noble general in the evil empire'". All his meritocracy bullshit vanished the second he was gone, no-one but his own children believed it or held onto it, and the empire put someone directly opposed to that belief into his old seat when he vanished. No-one cared, no-one else "believed", the Empire was never about that, it was only propped up in his own singular legion by him being there and the second he was gone the legion dumped it and moved on and only Gaius was too naive and stupid to see it.

I mean for fuck sake, the Empire digs up the chemical gas weapon he explicitly had sealed away and destroyed all record of after he's gone and if it wasn't for a particularly dedicated and enterprising catboy and his comedy crew of hardcore engineers, it would have caused the eighth apocalypse

Even the follow-up in patch 6.4, of the family portrait, isn't some "aw he good now" thing. The family portrait you help organise for him has to have four of its six members be projected onto the scene via a machine's reconstruction of them as normal people because they're dead, they threw their lives away because the ideology Gaius taught them meant they could only think to die fighting and nothing else. That's his loving family portrait: four ghosts stood at his back as his last living child smiles through her pain.

"well the people of Werlyt didn't kill him for conquering them" they let him clean up the mess he made (which meant watching his children be killed) and as "thanks" they're letting him stay there to live out the last third of his life or so attempting to atone by fixing the damage he did.

He's 56 at the time of ARR; the Empire he gave 3-4 decades of his life to is gone, it's a smouldering ruin, all but one of the people he loved is dead, his surviving daughter is scarred by the path he led her down, and what few friends he had are also dead. He learned that his beliefs were all horseshit and pretty much everyone around him except for himself knew it, he must live knowing that those beliefs got his children killed, all that he achieved that he once considered "good" was for nothing, he learned that the cool old emperor he idolised who had no magic but built an empire by pulling up his bootstraps and who told him that magic and gods were bad was actually an ancient incredibly magical sorceror attempting to resurrect his own god.

That's not a redemption arc, he's the most owned man still alive in XIV

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Gale x Tav Kissing Headcanons

A/N: The patch 6 announcement has me back on my bullshit. I know I write a lot for Astarion, but this stupid wizard has my heart too. Here’s to hoping we get to make out with him soon.

Gale’s kisses come in stages

Obviously for a long time he’s very concerned about the orb and getting too excited, as it were

Even after the orb is stabilized and you have your first night together, some part of him thinks he’s getting away with something

The kisses shared between you are fleeting, but tender

While he adores your lips, he’ll just as happily kiss your hand or the top of your head, really any place he can reach

He wants to stay, even if it’s just the barest kiss you can sense it pains him to pull away, but you have other things to do

If he pushes his luck, maybe you’ll be the one to pull away first; he knows he can be a bit…much

The longer your together, the less hesitant he is

All he really needs is for you to pull him back into a deeper kiss a few times in a row for him to get the message

Once he has your permission, it’s nearly impossible for him to keep his hands off you

He still feels like he’s getting away with something, that at any second you’re going to realize he’s not enough or maybe the orb comes back or honestly just the daily dangers you have on your journey are going to tear you away, but instead of bracing for rejection, it just makes him hungry

He starts kissing you like it’s the end of the fucking world, but, in his defense, it kind of is

Even soft kisses come with hands cupping your face as he sharply inhaled your scent

He also can’t help but steal a few more, as if making up for lost time

Kisses after a fight are positively indecent

We already know he gets horny, but knowing he can touch you after makes him practically vibrate

He has enough self control to wait until your properly healed and back at camp, but not enough to wait until after you bath before he’s pulling your some place private and kissing the air right out of your lungs

That’s not to say every kiss leads to something more, only that he’s less reserved in putting all his love and adoration into every touch

He worships you, let him worship you

The feeling can be addicting, but it’s also something you might need to work on with him

Everybody wants to be loved, but being truly in love you need to be a partner, not a goddess on a pedestal

Your mortal and so is he, you don’t need worship, you just need him

And when he finally gets that into his thick skull you find him kissing you in all new ways

Without the threat of the Elder Brain or the crown, Gale finally feels like he has time

He still can’t keep his hands off you, but there is a warm security in it

He’s not afraid your going to pull away

He can kiss you slowly, savor the taste as he smiles against your lips

He can tease you and know you’ll just laugh and pull him back again

His finds he loves kissing your shoulders and the back of your neck as he simply holds you from behind for no other reason than because he can

Even when he finds himself distracted by grading papers or some new discovery, he’ll reach out for your hand, bringing it to his lips to make sure you know he knows your there

He starts to plan his mornings allowing for at least an extra fifteen minutes to get out of bed because how can he be expected to get anything done before he’s properly kissed you awake

Maybe things will teeter off later down the line, his colleagues have teased him more than once about the honeymoon phase

But even years down the line, he can’t see himself slowing down

Honestly the fact that it’s expected for people to be less in love with their spouse after their married is something he can’t find himself ever understanding (skill issue)

He doesn’t kiss you like it’s the end of the world, he kisses you like the world is going to keep on spinning, that time is going to keep moving forward and the best way he knows how to spend it is with you

[herorkgk]

remember when they said they were nerfing hog mid january

[chiscaralight]

Imagine a lowkey perverted reader who can not back up one shit she says and says stuff that's blatantly wrong about sex and Scara, who doesn't call her out, decides to tease her and things get physical <333 after years of knowing her dumbass. So, like, she's genuinely innocent when it comes to it because she's had basic sex ed💀💀💀

i got to this one last bc i actually had to sit and think about it lol😭literally slept on it and came back but i hope i did justice to it!

childhood best friend! scara x reader nsfw.oral f receiving. readers first time. fingering, fluff if you squint.

honestly, scaramouche blames himself. if he had called you out on the bullshit you were saying the first time, he wouldn't have to sit through this now. granted, he thought it was a joke at first, so he played into your little dumb ideology. it's been years, after all. he'd expect to understand your sense of humor. but it's getting frustrating now, because not only are you spewing total garbage, but you're saying it so confidently too? have you even had sex before? because no one with a semi-functioning brain would be saying things like this. but he starts to notice that whenever anything gets physical, you start to shy away.

so he starts to fuck with that pretty head of yours! fingers lingering on your waist when he's moving behind you, hand gripping at your thigh under the table in class. you're trying so hard to act like it doesn't phase you. but he knows you like the back of his hand! which is why he has his face up close to yours as you're both seated on his bed. he's leaning over, centimetres away while his eyes are locked on yours

"scara.."

he doesnt even respond. he just keeps staring at you and its starting to get uncomfortable.

"i lied, i'm sorry."

silence.

"do you think i'm stupid? of course you've been lying. nobody in their right senses would say the shit that you do."

"what the hell do you mean?!"

and he's reminding you of everything you said that was so blatantly wrong. you're dumbfounded. how come nobody ever told you? it's because they're even more idiotic than you are. you're seething with embarrassment when he finishes, looking everywhere except his face. his hand is still planted firmly on your side, fingers dipping inwards as his voice lowers just a bit.

"i can teach you, though."

he's still your best friend, so he'll help you where he can. it's your slow nod that has him shifting closer to you, hand pushing you back as he hovers over you.

his kiss is much softer than you expected. it's long, drawn out until you're able to match up with what he's doing. he can tell you're still scared because he pulls away to tell you to relax before going back in. his knuckle grazes over your clothed nipple and you let out a breath onto his lips. he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue over yours, and you're moving to fist his shirt in your hands.

he trails his fingers down your neck, lips following as he holds it in place. he's sucking at your skin, bruising up and down the exposed patch as he's trying to tug your shirt as far away as possible. you're whining as he pulls back, but he shushes you and takes it off. he's quickly pulling off his own as he starts to attack your chest with wet kisses, biting softly at one nipple while he tugs at the other. your face is squeezed with pleasure, soft gasps leaving your parted lips as his hand is deserting your sensitive bud to sit right above your soaked slit.

his movements are extremely calculated, eyes watching every reaction you give him as his tongue runs along your clit over and over again. his fingers are also curling inside you, but you just seem so sensitive, the way your back is arching off the bed, face red as one hand is tangled in his hair while the other poorly stifles your moans, he can feel his cock pressing hard into the bed. your sounds are getting more frantic, hips pressing down onto his face as you cum embarrassingly hard. the stupid smirk he has on his face isn't helping, but dare not say anything about it.

his lips are soft against the side of your face when he bottoms out in you. he's waiting for you, face turned in concern when your body stills entirely. the okay you give him is barely a whisper, but he hums against your skin as he starts to move. and he knows he should be focusing on you, making sure you're okay, but you feel so fucking tight around him, he's about to lose his shit. he's fighting every demon in his body now telling him to absolutely ruin you, but the second you tell him to speed up, he's pushing your legs up so he can hit into you just right. you can't even say his name properly now! you've never felt this good before. nails almost ripping at the sheets from how hard you're holding them. he's letting one of your legs hit the bed so he can slot his head right beside your lips, and those gorgeous moans of yours are making him twitch inside of you. you're wrapping an arm around his neck, crashing his lips to yours as you can feel that sensation bubbling deep in you again.

and when you come this time, it's loud and long. he never stopped rolling his hips into you, not even after he came. only until you're almost begging him to stop the overstimulation that he groans and pulls out. your vision is hazy and his body is heavy against yours, you can't help but smile. you have an actual story to tell now. and a damn good one at that.

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk!Danny pt.5

If Danny hadn’t thought about quitting and going to rehab before, he’s definitely going to do it now.

It had been one of those days. Danny had sluggishly managed to usher Jason to school- pulling himself together for their walk to the building, because he wasn’t stupid and this was still Gotham- before going home and relapsing. He knew, going into the first bottle, that he was going to regret it. But he still hadn’t felt the buzz, so he went out to get more.

“Just one. I can stop after, if I want to.”

Spoiler: he could not, actually, stop if he wanted to. Because he didn’t want to, which was the whole problem.

So, one bottle became two, two became three, three became six, and by the time the sun slipped below the horizon, Danny had a pile of bottles scattered around the couch and an intense look of self hatred set upon his brow. He was buzzed, but his stupid ghost biology refused to absorb anymore alcohol.

“Stop brooding, Danny. It’ll hurt your brain.” Jazz said, a hint of worry around her joking insult. “You’re forgetting something important.”

“Wha-?” He mumbled out back at the haze of her-hah- ghost.

The door clicked open. Danny whipped his head to wards the door, snarl on his face and ready to lunge at the intruder, when he came face to face with a scuffed up Jason.

They froze simultaneously, but before Danny could do anything, Jason’s hands tightened on the door knob. The kid’s eyes darted to the floor, where the bottles laid, and back up at Danny’s face. What he found there must not have been good, because he took a step back.

It was fear.

Danny felt his heart drop and his throat go dry. The self hatred doubled in size and weight, but he smacked it down in favor of scrambling for the words- anything- to fix the damage his stupidity and addiction caused.

“Jason.” He said, voice raspy. Had he been screaming again? Good start, good- nope. Never mind, Jason is using the door to shield himself now. Danny glanced outside and-

“Oh. I- I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” He turned back to Jason, who eyed him warily. “I- I forgot to pick you, didn’t I.”

“…I can walk back by myself.” The hesitant but full of bravado reply made Danny’s ghostly obsession to protect rear its head.

“Still. I’m… I’m sorry, Jason.”

Jason evaluated him, noticeably eyeing his open hands and purposefully lax posture, before stepping inside. He doesn’t close the door behind him- clearly leaving it as an option just in case he needed to bolt. Danny stood up slowly. Jason watched him, and his hands. His smaller hands- Ancients, Danny was scaring a kid- curled up into fists.

“What… how did you get hurt?”

“Got mugged.”

“Are you okay? No- wait,” Danny flooded his liver and blood stream with ectoplasm, and his head instantly cleared. Ah, the agony of being coherent.

Danny subtly shook his head to clear his thoughts. Focus.

“Of course you’re not.” Danny stepped away from the incriminating bottles, slowing to a stop once more as Jason shifted backwards like he was either going to spring at Danny or bolt out the door. “Why don’t we get you patched up? And you can tell me about your day. That I missed, when I forgot to pick you up and that I’m really really sorry for.”

Danny held his breath as Jason considered it. “Are ya drunk?” Jason asked, tilting his shoulder to slide his Wonder Woman backpack down, hand clutching at the opposite strap. A good bludgeoning weapon, even if Danny would rather be electro shocked to death again before he ever hurt Jason.

“No.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, scoffing as he looked down again. Danny recognized the motion, a bolt of heavy nostalgia slamming into his chest as he remembered another red-head doing the same thing when he tried to bullshit his way out of something.

“I was buzzed but… I’m a meta. Alcohol doesn’t exactly affect me. I had to drink a lot to even get buzzed, and it’s gone now.”

“Y’er a meta?” Jason straightened, not completely losing the vigilance, but less tense.

“Yes. I’m completely sober right now, I promise.”

Jason stared at him, inhaled, and relaxed. “You better be.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Whatever.”

——

Danny placed the bandages over Jason’s cuts.

“I am so, so sorry I didn’t pick you up.”

Jason shoved at his shoulder, grumbling “I c’n do it myself.”

“I know. You don’t have to, though.”

The kid looked away for a moment before softly admitting, “I was… worried. Cuz, I thought somethin’ happened.”

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat. Jason slipped more into his alley accent the more upset he got these days, having learned some of the local accents at his new school and regularly swapping those out instead of sticking with his alley accent.

“Thank you. For worrying about me. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

Point. From the mouth of babes came the painful truth, right?

“No. I’m not. But I will be. I’ll go to rehab, Jason. I don’t want to forget picking you up again.”

“Whatever.” Danny hid a smile as Jason ducked his head, looking endearingly like a grumpy duckling. Like, Jazz, when their parents made those blueberry ectoplasm pancakes she liked but thought they’d forgotten that she liked.

“And thank you, Jason, for coming back alive. I- I should have been there, but I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

“I want waffles and ice cream for dinner.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Wow, you musta felt real bad if you’re letting me eat that for dinner.”

Danny grinned down at the head of black hair (with their red roots once more poking out) and ruffled Jason’s head. “I let you eat like five chili dogs in one go. This should not be surprising. But I’ll let you skip the veggies today too.”

“… No, I want the veggies too.”

Danny let out a bark of bright laughter.

Yeah, there’s no way he’s ever risking Jason looking at him like that again. The kid looked like he thought Danny would come swinging at him, despite their previous meetings where he had, perhaps and with plausible deniability, swung for Jason, but never against him.

That night, after he tucked Jason into bed, Danny signed up for rehab. As a matter of fact, Jazz’s words coming into mind, Danny also signed up for therapy. For him and Jason. Yeah.

——

Off camera, they talked about why Jason react to bottles and hands the way he does, and why he’s so scared whenever Danny slips back into his addiction. I’m just rlly too tired to write it.

——

Danny, who thought his addiction wasn’t that serious and that he could stop anytime because he stopped for Jason: I’m cured!

Also Danny: drinks as soon as Jason goes to school

Danny was one hundred percent using Jason as a crutch and when he felt like Jason was safe, he slipped back to his habits. The only reason Danny’s not dead- well, deader than he normally would be- is because ghost biology makes it so that alcohol is cycled through quicker. Like the Flash, but less fast? Anyways, he had enough to make him lose track of time and forget important things (Jason) and that’s what addiction can do to you, amongst other things.

Jason might seem calm but that’s actually a combo of his go to trauma response (fight) and his experience of 1) being on the streets and 2) living with a previous drunkard coming into play. Also, you might be like what kind of kid wants to eat veggies? And to that I answer: KIDS THAT NEVER HAD ENOUGH TO EAT. I would have killed for a veggie stir fry with a lot of chicken back as a kid lol

On a lighter note, the whole time they’re having this interaction, I kind of imagined it as two chickens just kind of dancing around each other.

[m-musings]

Crawl Out Through the Fallout with Me: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard X Fem! Reader

A/N: never played an official fallout game in my life but i still love this man so it's time to bullshit some stuff, let's gooooooo

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: After a fight with raiders, a argument between lovers ensues when one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: typical fallout vibes, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, pre-established relationship, Cooper being Cooper but also being a bit ooc, this is cheesy as hell and def not canon compliant lmao

"Damnit, (Y/n), just what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

An upset voice rang out into the evening air of the Wasteland as a pair of figures rested up inside the crumbling walls of an abandoned building.

Lit by the fading light of the sun, (Y/n) hissed in pain as her irradiated companion tried to sew a sizable gunshot wound on her arm shut.

As he passed the needle back and forth through the gash, the girl rolled her eyes with an exasperated groan as a few rivulets of blood rolled down her arm.

"Gimme a break, Coop! Did you wanna be the one to be shot?! I don't- ow!- think so!"

During a journey to find their next cash-out, the partners were ambushed by a large group of raiders & fiends. After managing to get rid of most of them, one had managed to sneak up and send a bullet flying straight for Cooper.

Noticing the weapon before Cooper could even turn to see the shooter, (Y/n) dashed over and shoved the ghoul out of the path of the shot, causing her arm to be hit instead.

Now- a few hours after killing the remaining enemies- they took shelter in a decrepit shack in order to patch themselves up in peace and rest for the night.

"I'd still be better off than you are right now. I mean, for fucks sake, darlin', I'm a ghoul. I've been through worse than just being shot at."

"Well then, that's the last time I try to be helpful. Next time, I'll sit back and relax while you get absolutely slaughtered by raiders, how about that?!"

"Go right on ahead, see if I care! Now, hold still. Can't close this cut if you keep on squirmin' around." Cooper huffed as he gave the suture one final tug before snipping the end off with a pocket knife and tying it into a knot.

After he was finished, (Y/n) rolled the pain out of her bicep before reaching into her bag to grab a somewhat clean cloth to wipe up any remaining blood.

With a sputter of her lips, she got up from her spot next to Cooper to sit upon the old mattress in the other corner of the room in order to apply a stimpak to herself. It wouldn't be enough to heal the wound completely but it would be enough for her to be able to use her arm properly.

Satisfied with the sight of her flesh knitting back together, Cooper finally relaxed in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Now don't go doin' anything that stupid again, y' hear me? Don't wanna have to use any more stims than we have to."

"I just... don't understand why you're so worked up about this. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, it's literally a warzone out here. A scar or two isn't unusual." (Y/n) griped as she fell back onto the bed while crossing her arms.

"Yeah, for someone like me it isn't. But it shouldn't ever happen someone like you. You shouldn't have to get hurt like that..." Grumbled Cooper as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not made of glass, Coop, I can handle a few hits."

"Don't care. You're way too valuable for me to lose."

(Y/n)'s glare softened at that, realizing the true intention behind the cowboy's scolding was worry. As Cooper sets up a small lantern on the floor to combat the growing darkness, (Y/n) watches the man with a fondness gleaming in her eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You didn't wanna see me get hurt?" Whispers the girl as she turns onto her side.

Although the action is rather subtle, the ghoul's body visibly tenses up as he fixes his gaze away from the woman across from him.

"I never said that."

"It's clear that you thought it, though." (Y/n) chuckled as she softly grinned at the cowboy.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, Cooper hunches over to look at her as he readjusts his hat.

"What do ya wanna hear from me, sweetheart? That I care about you? That I love ya? Well, if you don't know that by now, then you might be much dumber than I thought you were."

"Hey, I resent that! You'd be lost with me and you know it!"

"Sure I would. Just like how you'd do great out there if you were all alone."

(Y/n) shakes her head with a scoff before she gets up from the mattress to walk over plop herself onto Cooper's lap after he sits back down on the beat-up dinner chair.

As she shuffles into place, Cooper places his hand on the small of her back to ensure she doesn't topple over. He silently glances at her face, analyzing her now troubled expression as she fiddles with the lapel on his duster.

Mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words to say, she presses her lips together before finally speaking her thoughts.

"Y'know, I worry about you too... I'm always so worried that there's gonna be a day where that one gunner you miss is gonna be the one that gets you." (Y/n) admits sadly as she rests her head on Cooper's shoulder.

Cooper's eyes widen slightly and peer down at her as he begins to rub a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Hey now, look at me. That'll never happen. Not on my watch."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I got too much to fight for. I already lost one family to this nonsense and I'll be damned if you get taken away from me too. I'll fight tooth and nail before I let anything touch me or you again, understand?"

"But why? What's so special about me?"

"If I allow you to get hurt anymore, I will never be able to live with myself again. I love you, so...so much, darlin'." Cooper states with a resolute nod.

(Y/n) eyes water and crinkle with a gentle smile before she leans up to place a couple light kisses upon his charred lips, which he returns immediately upon receiving.

"I love you too, Cooper..." Mutters (Y/n) as she closes her arm around his shoulders.

With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Cooper wraps both of his hands around her waist as he holds her as close as he can.

"Your sweetness is what's gonna be the death of me one of these days, doll... Not some dumbass bullet." Cooper jokes quietly, placing a kiss atop her hair & resting his head on hers as he rocks back and forth to lull her to sleep.

Listening to the calming sound of her breathing as she slumbers, Cooper thinks about how lucky a man like him is to have found a love like (Y/n) in such a desolate situation.

[igotanidea]

Weekend came early: Jason Todd x reader

WARNING: SMUT MDNI!

A/N: I wish you all happy, evenful weekend ;)

***

It was just teasing. Nothing more. She really didn’t plan for it to end up like this.

Or—

Given how good she knew Jason’s tendency to get jealous easily--

Maybe she actually did?

***

It was Friday evening, the best day of the week, since there was two free out-of-work days on the horizon. Days Jason and Y/N were supposed to spend together for the first time in forever. He promised her that – no fighting, no blood, no patching up injuries and no vigilante bullshit.

But.

His promise only encompassed Saturday and Sunday, never including Friday.

Friday was the day when – as usual he was going to go on patrol and beat the shit out of some thugs, while playing the anti-hero.

And that left Y/N forced to tend to herself. To take care of herself in every possible meaning  of the word.

“What are you up to?” he peeked into the bedroom, observing his girlfriend, who was currently sitting in front of the mirror putting on her makeup and doing her hair, which was surprising to say the least. Ever since they met each other, years ago, dolling up and Y/N were two words that had rarely fitted in one sentence. Of course, since she was a woman, mascara, eyeshadows, lipstick and all other  make-up stuff Jason didn’t know the name of, was coming in handy sometimes, but--!. What the hell was she doing dressing up while he was about to go out?! Why was her hair shiny and flowing down her shoulders and back like a waterfall giving away the most intoxicating smell of her shampoo? Why were her lips red and her eyes so fucking seductive, highlighted by the distinct make up he never saw her wearing before!? And that look she gave him upon hearing his words? That teasing smile that adorned her face?!

WHO THE FUCK WAS SHE DOLLING UP FOR?!

What?” she teased turning towards him with a glint in the eyes. “Can’t a girl look good for herself? Am I supposed to wear sweatpants and have tear stains on my face just because you are out red hooding?”

“YES!” he had to put a hell lot of effort to prevent himself from bursting out with all the rage boiling inside him. Instead he settled on clenching his fist as a substitute for punching the wall. “Yes, you’re supposed to be pretty only for me!” Jason couldn’t care less that he was sounding like a male chauvinist.

“Now that’s a little mean, don’t you think?” she grinned innocently, batting her eyelashes freshly mascara-painted “I thought I was pretty all the time, not only when—“

“DO NOT FUCKING PLAY WITH ME Y/N!” it was so hard to hold back all that rage, jealousy, fear and the sudden feeling of betrayal. Almost as if the upcoming taking on the role of the Red Hood was influencing his behaviour as Jason Todd, the boyfriend¸ who was  always caring and gentle and loving.

Huh, apparently not anymore…..

Y/N only rolled her eyes in response, absolutely unfazed by the sudden change of tone, quickly putting finishing touches and getting up from behind the dressing table. Allowing Jason to see her fucking dress for the first time.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING IN THIS!?”

That piece of material was barely covering her, but perfectly accentuated her body, all those ideally shaped curves in all the right places.

His curves.

Fuck, he could already feel himself growing, the tactical pants becoming tight in the places they were not supposed to at the moment. She was doing it on purpose cause it was impossible that after all those years together she was oblivious and this stupid.

“Something wrong, baby?” her hips swayed when she took a few steps forward and put her hand on his bare shoulder. Right, cause he was only wearing his pants and no chest armour and jacket when her unusual preparations caught his attention, causing him to emerge from the bathroom.

“Where the hell are you going?!” he hissed  moving away from her touch despite all the instincts telling him otherwise.

“Oh, you know it’s nothing, just—“

“I told you to not play with me.”

“And I told you repeatedly that I am not intimidated by –“

‘Well maybe you should be.”  Just one move of his almost got her cornered. Almost, being the key word here, since the girl saw right through him, capably sneaking away.

“Don’t act crazy Jason. I’m just going out to have some fun.”

“FUN?!”

“Yeah.” she said in a completely innocent tone reaching for her coat “with my other boyfriend”

Jason froze.

Only for a second though.

And then his blood boiled.

She said other boyfriend.

“What did you just say?” the atmosphere in the apartment turned from playful and teasing into serious and heavy in a blink of an eye. “How many other boys do you have?!”

“Three, currently. “

“THREE?!”

“Had more, but cut down when we started dating. Besides you’re still my favourite so I don’t understand why you’re so angry about it. You’re the best in bed and -“

“WHAT?!!”  Was she even serious!  If Jason was the best that meant she had something to compare. Which could have only indicated that Y/N-. “You slept with someone else other than me!?”

Just the thought of other man kissing her in a way only he was allowed to, was too much. And there was a clear indication that there was more than just kissing. Other man- men- touched her. Traced her body, felt her moving underneath him, heard her calling- moaning- his name, had her hands all over him. Tasted her in a way that was reserved only for him. For Jason Peter Todd. Her fucking boyfriend.  

 “No.” he hissed grabbing her wrist and spinning her to him before she reached the door. “No.” Y/N met with eyes filled with lust and rage.

“What are you--?” she stuttered feeling him press her into the wall, not doing anything explicit, yet, but observing her like a prey, leaving minimum space between their bodies, once again trying to intimidate her and making it work this time.

“You won’t allow anyone to do what I do to you.” He leaned to whisper in her ear, hot breath laced with possessiveness hit her face “You understand me princess?” the unexpected grip and caress on her hips caused a little shiver to run through her body. “You’re mine. M-I-N-E, baby…” 

“You’re—You’re not the boss of me—“ she whimpered making it a little less firm than intended.

“Oh, I am not the boss?” he smirked tightening the grip on her, running fingers over her side, hooking over the hem of her short dress, tracing over her smooth thigh. “Maybe I should show you otherwise then?”

“I’m going—“ Y/N squirmed reaching for the doorknob

“Oh baby, I’m not really letting you.” Her wrist was gripped and pinned back to the wall next to her side stopping her from any movement.

“Good luck stopping me-“

There was really no space for her to fight him anymore, with those vigilante eyes tuned in on the slightest change in her expression, but she was trying nonetheless.

“You really want me to let you go, baby?” his lips brushed her cheek, his body pressing more into her. “Let another man touch you? Kiss you? See what belongs to me?” Jason’s thigh pressed between her legs causing her instinctive reaction in the form of grinding on it. “are you going to sleep with him?” he lifted the hem of her dress, reaching fingers to the inside of her thigh getting the exact shiver he craved.

“Yes!” she squealed even though her behaviour didn’t match the words at all.

“No, baby.”  He smiled softly, but his eyes were brutal and it wasn’t hard to guess what was coming for her if she kept on pushing and defying any longer.

“Ye-“

She never finished that sentence, getting pressed into the wall as Jason’s strong body claimed hers. He was done being gentle, biting her bottom lip, lifting her dress all the way up, instantly tearing off her little fancy panties, grabbing the back of her thighs wrapping her legs around him.

Grinding into her heat with the urgency and power of a predator brought to extreme.

The kiss was brutal to say the least. Almost violent. Boosted by the thought of her in the arms of another man. He won’t ever let it happen. She was his.

His, his, his. Only his.

And he was not going to share.

“Jason—“ she whimpered, but he didn’t listen. He was already ripping the upper part of her dress of, biting her neck, moving lips over her collarbone, kissing the part of her breast that weren’t covered by the bra. Marking the soft skin, making sure to leave a reminder who she belonged to. In case she forgot.

“Shit…” she moaned pulling at his hair, tightening her legs on him, leaving a wet trail on the pants he still had on.

Those actions only spurred him on, pushing him to rip off her bra, not caring whether it might have been expensive or her favourite, it had to go. Her breasts and those already stiff, pebbled nipples being the main object of his interest at the moment.

“Mine.” He hissed with voice hoarse, deep, full of uncontrollable lust for her body, grabbing onto the soft bosom, palming it and squeezing mercilessly in primal need to see the hand-shaped bruises all over it. “mine”. The other breast was devoured with his lips and tongue that was capably tasting her nipple, flicking and licking in that perfect way that never failed to make her melt into him. He knew exactly where and how to touch to elicit the perfect sounds and turn them both on to the extreme. For example, he was fully aware that tracing one finger at her sensitive spot, just at the swell of her chest, close to the side would make her cry out in pleasure and get even more wet. Making it so much easier to slid inside later.

“Jason!!” she grinded on him, raking nails down his back, scratching and leaving red marks in their wakes. Her back arched to him, wanting rather to feel his warm, broad bare chest rather than cold hard wall he was relentlessly pressing her into, getting possessive, dominant in the need to trap her.

His mind was screaming with simple thoughts: Possess her. Own her. Devour her.  Fuck her brains out.

They were already high, not even getting to the best part yet. And damn, she was dripping from the need of him.

“Jason—“

“Yeah?” he gasped pulling back only to resume his touches, tracing over her thigh getting another string of desperate mewls, smirking in complacency. “what did you want to say princess….?”

“I—“

“I’m listening….” His lips moved higher, brushing over her breast, neck, jaw, moving towards her earlobe, which he bit lightly. “You have my whole attention…”

“Mhm…” she tried to reach to his zipper, but Jason couldn’t let her have what she wanted just yet. She need to be taught what exclusivity meant. “Need you—“

“I know baby…” he smirked again, grinding his hardness more into her. Her sobbing and pleading didn’t do much to change his mind

“Please!” she sobbed, trying once more to free him, but ending up with hands pinned above her head completely helpless and at his mercy. She awoken the animal.

“Say my name princess.”

“Jason!”

“who do you belong to!?”

“You!” she moaned through the tears of need, burning from the desire to feel him, touch him, aching for the sensation only he could bring her.

“That’s fucking right. ME.”

One movement and one scream later she finally got what she wanted. It was just so easy for him to claim her given the fact she was already dripping with arousal.

At this point control was out the window.

Pushing, pulling, moving.

Lips clashing, teeth biting, hands exploring each other's bodies like they were meeting the soft skin and defined muscles all over again. Building the intensity and pleasure as never before.

Pain and pleasure.

Possessiveness and softness.

Her.

His.

Yes.

Almost there!

She was so soft, so warm, so fucking delicious and wet.

He was covered with sweat unable to hold back grunts and squeezing her body, hurting her and adoring all at once.

So close...

Yes....

Yes, yes, yes!

When she screamed his name one more time, digging nails into his back with the force she didn’t know she had, he had no choice but to follow right after.

Never ever before falling into the bottomless pit were so good.

Becoming one.

***

“Was I too rough?”

They vaguely remembered the moment when Jason, with the last of his strength, filled with care and bliss, cradled her in his arms carrying to the bed.

Silkiness of the sheets, gentle kisses and caresses, devoid of rush and voracity were the most stark and the most welcomed contrast to what they did against the wall some time earlier.

“No.” she smiled at him, their blissful eyes meeting. ‘I mean, maybe a little, but no.”

“Well in my defence—“ he started, the guilt upon seeing all her bruises and bite marks taking hold on him.

“There’s no one else but you.” Her soft voice and subtle touch on his cheek cut him off.

“But-“

“I lied.” She sighed, not apologising about it.

 “What? Why?”

“I don’t even know now.” Y/N rolled on her back, stretching herself without covering her body testing Jason’s self-control once more.

“Is there a possibility you missed me that much it forced you to push me past my limits?” he smirked, tracing one finger over her exposed belly in a very suggestive manner.

“You’re such a prick Jason Todd. I’m not adding to your blown up ego…”

“Maybe not with words—“ he laughed not stopping his actions, enjoying the Goosebumps that covered her body. “Admit it. You did miss me.”

“Mh. It’s impossible to wait till Saturday and Sunday to have you all to myself” She muttered

“Well I suppose the weekend came early for you baby.” He rolled on top of her starting another round.

Red hood, duties and that little dent in the wall that would cause them to say goodbye to the deposit money, has just became meaningless for the upcoming two and a half days.

[lovebugism]

can I request steeb taking care of shy!reader who is upset after a bullying incident in school? I figured she would be a year younger (like robin’s grade) because I don’t think anyone would touch her if king steve was around. I feel like he’s be so soft with her but also reeling at the thought that someone hurt his girl!

thanks for ur request anon! idk if i can count this as a blrub because it's nearly 3k words but alas pls enjoy! tw for blood (knee scrapes) and j*son c*rver

You come to Family Video with a scrape on your left knee.

It’s not the weirdest thing in the world — you ride a worn-down bike that’s probably older than you are. Steve’s been begging you to get a new one for as long as he’s known you, outright offering to pay for the damn thing as long as he’s sure it’ll get you to him without getting hurt in the process.

You reject him every time. “It gets me where I need to go,” you always shrug. “What more could I want from it?”

And he wants so badly to be angry at the beauty you manage to find in mediocrity. But he can’t be, really. It’s why you fell in love with him in the first place, isn’t it? Why you took the heartbroken boy in your arms on Halloween night in 1984 and convinced him he wasn’t bullshit despite what he told you. He’d be an idiot to be mad at how kind you are.

But when you walk into Family Video, halfway limping with blood dripping down your knee, he knows it’s different. 

Something more than a toppled bike hurt you.

“Oh, god, babe,” he winces from where he stands at the counter with Robin. “What happened?”

“I fell,” you shrug as he races over to you.

“You fell?” Robin scoffs. “Knock me out with a feather.” You know she’s joking, but it’s a little too monotone, and you’re a little too sensitive. Something in her words hurts more than your throbbing knee.

Steve, who knows you like the back of his hand, understands exactly what your diverted gaze means. When you look down to the floor, he shoots Robin a firm glare.

What? she mouths, obviously confused at the sudden silence.

“Can you get the first aid kit from the back? I think there might be some gauze in there,” he asks, deciding to change the conversation entirely. He wraps an arm around your waist and walks slowly with you to the counter. He meets your grimace with a soft smile. “I’ll clean it, wrap it up, and you’ll be good as new.”

You don’t give him anything in response. Not even a pity smile.

He sits you on the counter with the open first-aid kit beside you. Robin flips the store sign to closed. It’s barely five o’clock. She starts tidying up the store to go home, anyway.

Steve wipes up the warm blood with a napkin and cleans the scrape with an alcohol wipe. You hiss at the feeling — it’s like a hundred tiny bee stings. From where he sits just below you on a worn swivel chair behind the counter, he leans in to press a kiss just above the cut.

Without all the blood, it looks a lot less gnarly than before.

“See? It’s not so bad,” the boy smiles as he unravels some gauze. “I’ll patch it up, baby you for the rest of the night, and you’ll forget it ever hurt by morning.”

Again, you don’t even smile. You just purse your lips to the side and nod.

Steve’s heart stings, but he doesn’t take anything by it. He wraps the bandage down and over your knee in an even rhythm. He tries not to be so direct when he asks: “How’d this happen, anyway, huh? Did Ol’ Sliver finally give up on you?”

You shake your head, eyes on the gauze instead of the boy. The white cloth splotches with pink from where your wound still weeps. “No,” you answer quietly. “Just fell.”

“Just fell, huh?” he repeats quietly. A few caramel-colored strands fall over his forehead as he peers up at you with his chin tilted towards his chest. He tries his best to smile. “You’re givin’ me the sad eyes, babe. I feel like it was more than just a fall.”

“It was stupid…”

He scoffs. “Never.”

“A car drove by me,” you confess, only half-lying. You try to look down at him, but your gaze wavers along with your courage. “And the music was kinda loud, and it… It startled me a little.”

You don’t tell him that Jason Carver intentionally swerved on the wrong side of the road to scare you — or that he yelled mean things through the rolled-down passenger window before speeding off again. It’s easier to keep it to yourself. You don’t want it to become a whole thing.

Steve’s brows furrow as he tucks the end of the bandage to keep it from unraveling. “Were they going too fast?”

“I don’t know. Kind of.”

“It wasn’t those football assholes, was it? I swear to god, they need their license revoked.”

“No,” you answer, quick to soothe his rising anger. “It was— It wasn’t anyone. I just got scared, and I swerved off the road, okay?”

Even in your mousy voice, it sounds like you’re being stern with him. And you’re never stern with him.

“Well, that’s okay,” Steve assures with a shrug. “We all get scared. It’s better than you getting hit, I guess.”

“I guess,” you echo with a huff, a teasing smile on your lips.

Steve grins back, happy to see you less pained. He smacks a gentle kiss to your wrapped-up knee. “Go get in the car, okay? I’ll clean up here, put your bike in the trunk, and we can go home.”

You go shy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. “Your home?” you clarify, secretly hoping he’ll say yes.

His answer isn’t surprising. “Of course, my home. You practically live there, anyway.”

You smile and brush a soft kiss to the scruff of his jaw, murmuring a quiet thank you there before leaving. You’re not limping nearly as badly as you had been before.

Robin waits for the door to ding shut before blurting: “I think it was Jason.” 

Steve stills with the first-aid kit in his hands. He squints at her from where she stands between the horror and X-rated horror aisles. 

“What?”

“I think that’s who might’ve run her off the road.”

“…Why?”

“He gives her a hard time sometimes, I don’t know,” she explains vaguely and with a sigh. “Normally, it’s stupid. Like, honestly, I just think he’s super shit at flirting. Maybe he was just trying to scare her and… got a little carried away…”

Anger burns red hot in Steve’s chest. It blooms just behind his ribcage like a flower with fire for petals.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks through gritted teeth, trying not to sound too angry. It’s not like Robin was the one who hurt you, after all — just some douchebag who wouldn’t have laid a hand on you if he knew who your boyfriend was. 

Steve’s knuckles go white as his grip tightens on the plastic box.

“Because I thought it was harmless!” Robin agonizes as she rushes to meet him. Her deep ocean eyes swim with worry, frightened that he might be angry at her. “Seriously. Most of the time, it sounds like he’s just being mean to get into her pants. And, like, I don’t know if that’s how he landed Chrissy back in the day or what, but he’s obviously got no clue what kind of girl he’s flirting with because…”

She trails off at Steve’s hardened umber gaze.

Robin groans and leans over the counter, reaching for the boy’s wrist. “Please don’t be mad at me, Stevie. My heart can take that. I’ll be sick for days—”

“I’m not mad at you, Rob,” the boy promises. He sighs. “I just gotta… go beat up a kid now.”

—————

You’re too focused on the stars and the feeling of Steve’s warm hand on your thigh to notice he’s taking the wrong route home.

The car slows way sooner than you expected. When you come back down from the clouds, you find that you’re in a near-empty lot. The car jolts softly when Steve puts it in park.

“What are we doing?” you turn to him with furrowed brows.

Steve unclicks his seatbelt. “I’ll be right back.”

You look past him, at the large building lit up by amber streetlamps and the green door with a light in its window. Every so often, someone will whip by it wearing a white jersey. Your heart sinks.

“Why are we at school?” you asked, scrunched-faced in a mixture of anger and worry. You don’t know how he knows what happened to you, only that he does know.

“I need to take care of something here. It���s okay—”

“Don’t go in there,” you plead. “Please. Let’s just go home—”

“I’ll be right back,” he repeats. He leans over the console to kiss your cheek. You don’t lean into it like you usually do.

“Steve—”

The car door shuts and cuts off the rest of your pleas.

Steve has an easy time getting into the gym. The backdoor is propped open with a small wooden block like it always is. The coaches welcome him in like usual. They beam as the old team captain waltzes into the newly painted gym like he owns the place.

“Harrington!” the burly man calls over the sounds of squeaking shoes and bouncing basketballs. “Come to turn in an application, finally? I’ve only been asking you to be co-coach since you graduated.”

Steve smiles coolly. “No. Not yet… I, uh— I actually needed to talk to one of your players.”

The man shoots him a look.

“Jason Carver.”

“Oh,” the man chuckles, a deep belly laugh. “You only wanna pull my star player out of practice, huh?”

“It’ll take, like, two seconds. Tops.”

A momentary stare-off ensues. Steve knows the answer he’s going to get. Everyone at this damn school has got a soft spot for him. Perks of being Hawkins High royalty, he figures.

“Two,” the coach says in the place of any real answer. 

He takes the green whistle from his neck and blows into it. The shrill sound echoes through the gym. Like trained dogs, the boys on the court still.

“Carver!” the man shouts, almost too loudly. Steve winces from beside him. “Get over here!”

Jason passes the ball off and jogs to meet them without question. When Steve says he’s got something to tell him, the blonde-haired boy smiles like it’s a privilege. Red-faced and out of breath, he trails behind Steve as they walk out into the hallway.

“Don’t tell me you’re coming to be assistant coach,” the boy says with an audible smile. “Coach Blair has only been talking about it for a year—”

When the double doors shut behind him, Steve whips around and shoves the boy into the lockers. They clang beneath his sudden weight and echo down the empty corridor. Jason’s smug face contorts into shock. “—What the hell?”

He tries to regain his footing, but Steve only shoves him backward again. His hands twist in the neck of his jersey. 

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jason shouts.

Steve’s stern features never waver. He leans in close, eyes trained on the boy like a predator to prey. “Leave my girl alone,” he threatens lowly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know who your girl is—”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Steve spits in response. The lockers bang once more when he shoves the boy backward again. “Should break your leg for what you did to her. What would the star player do then, huh?”

Jason’s wide eyes flit between the both of Steve’s. He racks his brain for what he might’ve done so wrong and who he might’ve done it to. He gapes at the realization — “Bambi? Bambi’s your girlfriend?”

“Oh, that’s what you call her?” Steve muses in a monotone, feigning interest. “How cute.”

“I didn’t know, man. I swear. If I knew, I never would’ve—”

“I don’t care. And stop pleading, alright? It’s embarrassing.”

Jason goes quiet. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Steve’s hand loosens on his jersey. His ice-cold gaze never wavers.

“I don’t wanna know what you did to her. I don’t wanna know why you’re doing it, either — if you think she’s pretty, or if she’s easy-pickings for assholes like you — I don’t care.” He presses the boy further into the lockers, their noses inches apart. “But if I hear you’re messing with her, talking about her to your friends— if you so much as look in her direction again, I promise you won’t like what I do to you.”

Jason’s jaw clenches. He juts out his chin in a feeble attempt to make himself taller. “Yeah?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“That’s real rich coming from someone who couldn’t even beat up Jonathan Byers.”

“I’ve learned a lot since then,” the older boy promises, weirdly composed. “Feel free to find out if you don’t believe me.”

The boy stays quiet.

Steve shoves him backward when he lets go of him. He gives him a final glare and one last warning before walking back toward the gym. “And plant your feet when you’re on the court, alright? It’d be a real shame if you broke an ankle.”

—————

The drive to his house is silent.

It usually is. Most of the time, you’re too zoned into the music or making shapes in the clouds to talk. But now it’s because you’re angry. Steve would be an idiot not to notice. He can feel it radiating off of you like steam.

He reaches for the console and turns the air-con up.

“Are you hot?” he asks in a feeble attempt to break the quiet.

With your arms crossed and your gaze out the window, you deadpan: “I’m mad.”

“I feel like that’s sorta the same thing,” Steve jokes with a weak, lopsided smile.

“I didn’t want you to do that,” you choke through a tight throat. “You’re just gonna make it worse.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have gotten so bad if you would’ve just told me.”

You turn to him with eyes glassy from unshed tears. A stoplight bathes the both of you in shades of neon scarlet. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d do something about it,” you spit.

“So you’d rather let some asshole run you off the road, huh? Is that it?”

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh. He’s just upset, and the adrenaline’s making him antsy. 

Steve learned a long time ago not to be so forward with you. Even if he’s just joking around, even if he’s mad and saying shit he doesn’t mean — you’re not built for that. You’re made of something softer: marshmallow fluff and crocheted yarn and flower petals. It’s why you let Jason Carver pick on you for so long without saying a word about it.

“It’s not like that,” you argue quietly, blinking back tears as you turn away from him again.

Steve sighs. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean— I’m just upset, okay? I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I know…”

“I just wish you would tell me these things, you know?”

His hand is warm on the skin of your thigh as he smooths his palm over it. Your eyes flit to your leg and then to him. You nod. “I know. I just…” Your features crumple when you trail off. 

Steve squeezes your thigh in reassurance. “You just what?”

“I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle myself,” you confess quietly. “Everyone thinks I’m so weak. I didn’t want you to think that, too.”

“I don’t think you’re weak,” Steve scoffs out a laugh, like he almost can’t believe you’d even think something like that.

Your brows furrow. “No?”

“No. Not even a little bit. But as your boyfriend— ‘cause I am your boyfriend, right?”

You meet his teasing gaze with a half-hearted scowl. You’ve only been dating for a year and a half. You nod to humor him.

“Exactly. So, as your boyfriend, it’s my job to help you through the hard shit, you know? Just because you can get through it on your own doesn’t mean you have to.”

Your chest swells. You try not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to. You’ve never had someone who wanted to protect you before. It’s as strange as it is gratifying.

“Okay,” you concede with a nod.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat with a giggle.

Steve leans over the console, moving slowly like his lips are made of magnets that drift to yours. Through the overwhelming urge to kiss you, he jokes: “Is it— and I’m just checking here— is it okay?”

You shake your head and lean to meet him halfway. “You’re such a dork.”

Your lips barely brush before a loud honk echoes behind you. You jolt apart from him, not noticing that the light had turned green until then. 

Steve sighs and mourns your unkissed lips. His engine roars softly as he presses on the gas.

He’d noticed. He saw the light change about twenty seconds ago — how the bright crimson changed into a softer shade of lime that bathed you in its neon hues. He just loved the way you looked in green.

[miguelhugger2099]

Eye for an Eye

Summary: Miguel rescues you in an ugly way. A/N: my guilty pleasure is sometimes i wanna be saveddd Warnings: Brief suggestion to sexual harrassment/assault, a bit of violence.

Somehow in the year 2099, most people didn't understand that Spider-Man in this age didn't follow the famous "no killing" rule that the original Spider-Man upheld in the Heroic Age. Most people meaning criminals.

Spider-Man, even when saving people from falling from skyscrapers or punching Public Eye scum in the face, if pushed to his limits- he would kill. This was his rules, his timeline, his Nueva York and if some pesky criminal wouldn't understand that then he'd get rid of them by any means.

So where do you come in all this?

Despite your efforts at secrecy, in the dead of night Spider-Man would often escort you home after work or if you had gotten into trouble with some purse snatcher. Other times, he'd sneak in your apartment window after a long fight, wanting to see you and have you patch up the wounds that would take a little more time to heal.

Spider-Man had revealed to you that he was actually Miguel O'Hara, the handsome stranger that had seemingly bumped into you more and more often after your very first encounter with Spider-Man. Having already been in an established relationship, you felt your heart drop at this major secret.

A part of you was angry at him for not telling you. For revealing your feelings about Miguel to his alter ego Spider-Man and making a fool of yourself. For all the nights he cancelled seeing you without explanation-something that put a strain on your relationship for a while. 

However the other half of you was drowned in worry. So all those times his masked covered face had come in to see you, bloody and bruised while you fixed him up, it was all him. He could die, you told him. Why would he do this to himself?

"I haven't been good all my life," He groaned while you pressed a damp cloth to his wound one night. "I think of all this as repentance for being a shocking moron in my earlier years."

"There are other ways to repent. Like donating to charity or some confession booth at a church. Not some...Not risking your life." You could barely look at him, tears brimming your eyes and threatening to fall while it clouded your vision. 

"I'm not religious." Miguel replies. "It wouldn't mean anything with these in my body now. They'd probably still send me to Hell regardless." He lifts his hand, his talons auto extracting from his fingertips and he feels the bile from his stomach stir, an urge to vomit at the disgust of himself.

He forces his talons back into his fingertips so he could tilt your chin up to face him. His thumb caressed your cheek to wipe off a stray tear that had fallen. "I'm sorry I put this all on you." He whispers.

You shake your head. "You're stupid, I always knew that," You sniffle and Miguel bites his cheek so he doesn't smile. "But I could help you better now. I...I know who you are and everything makes sense now, we could-"

Miguel stops you by shushing you. "No, no, no. You're not helping me anymore." Your heart drops again.

"What do you mean?"

"This is the last time we'll see each other."

Your jaw drops this time. Eyes that widened in shock now turn to anger. "Shock, Miguel. I knew you were an asshole but breaking up with me after revealing your secret identity to me has got to be one of the lowest things you're doing."

You lean away from him, bloodied and dried cloth thrown at his chest. "I was useful when you could just pop in whenever? No strings attached–was it fun?" You scoff in hurt.

Miguel grits his teeth. "No, carajo, it's-it's me-"

"Don't bullshit me Miguel with that it's not you, it's me rhetoric." You cross your arms tightly to your chest.

"It's dangerous!" He barks back.

"Like it wasn't dangerous before?" 

"It was! That's why I can't come back! I can't let myself lead them to you!" Miguel sits up and grabs onto your shoulders tightly and gives you a firm shake. His hands shake as he holds you, his head hanging. "This...this power of mine. I...it can lead so many of those assholes to you." He whispers. "I trusted you enough to come here, which I hate myself for. I should’ve never involved you in any of this.” Miguel’s hands fall from your shoulders and down your arms to grip your hands in his. “I’ve already put you in so much danger. If you got hurt, I don’t know what I’d do.”

The feeling of his talons pricking your skin and the sight of his fangs leaking a drop of his venom made you think maybe he did know what he’d do. He would just really want to avoid it.

“Miggy,” You say softly. “How about you let me make that choice? Now that I know, it doesn’t scare me. Do you know why?” You take your right hand out his grip to cup his cheek. His tired eyes look up to yours, nostril dried with blood and a scar on his forehead that surely needed bandages.

“Because I know you’ll protect me. You’re Spider-Man.” You lean in closer, Miguel under your spell. “Let me help you. That’s my decision. In return, if I’m ever a damsel in distress, I hope you’ll help me.” You give him a small smile and his hand covers yours on his cheek. He squeezes your fingers. “I promise.” He swears. Miguel always kept his promises even if he stumbled on the way. So when he went to visit you after his nightly patrol, he didn’t expect to see your entire apartment in disarray. His mask phases off his head, scarlet eyes wide and panicked. He gulps down his fear, muscles tense as he steps into your room. Blankets and pillows on the floor, some slashed and stuffing being poured out the seams. Your desk that held photos of you and your friends had also fallen to the floor, glass shattered and frames broken. Miguel takes another quiet step outside of your room. Your entire living room was a mess. Your couch had been moved and cut in half, lamps cracked and more photos on the floor. His heart stops when he sees blood in the kitchen. Some of the knives had been taken and another wave of fear splashes down his spine. It was clear there had been some sort of resistance with whoever took you. Whoever took you. Who took you? Miguel feels the fear morph into rage, his mask phasing back on his head. “Lyla. Scan this place.” He growls. His AI assistant glitches into existence, her eyes behind her pink heart shaped glasses full of worry. She begins phasing in and out of different places while Miguel lets the anger fester in his body. HIs talons on his fingers and feet itch to come out, to be sharpened for whatever poor soul’s flesh he’ll rip into. His fangs seep out his paralyzing venom, his tongue licking off the excess. Lyla appears in front of him, more meek and smaller compared to her usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. She knew there was a time and a place. “The blood isn’t hers. They most likely knocked her out since there’s no trace of her own blood around. Fingerprints on the knife handle are hers. No other DNA samples could be acquired.”

Miguel walks towards the entrance of your apartment. His hand grazes the door frame that had been split apart. Lyla appears next to him. “Forced entry, probably by foot. There’s some traces of wet soil–mainly seawater. I’ve tracked several fishing ports–most in Staten Island.” She displays holograms of different spots, standing tall by his side while he skims through. “Did you find a match on the blood?” His voice rumbles. “Negative, Miguel. None in the criminal database, including The Raft. Looks like this is the work of someone new.” Miguel grows furious. He roars as he punches his hand through the already destroyed couch. Some novice wants his attention so badly, he’s willing to piss him off for it. Miguel swings out of your place and searches the entirety of Staten Island’s fishing ports until he finds the one he was looking for. You don’t know where you are but you can feel everything. A sash was wrapped tightly around your eyes, some rope or zip ties held your wrists together and your ankles to the chair you sat on. You felt the pounding of a headache when you woke up. The last thing you remembered was one of the intruders lifting his gun and slamming the barrel down on your temple. They grew tired of you after reaching into the kitchen to protect yourself. You held them off well but you were still just one person. The sash had been lifted from your eyes and you groaned when a bright light of a lamp shined in your face. While you squinted, you could make out at least three people in front of you.

“I’m sorry about my men. They’re still a little new. You know how it is when you get trainees for a new job.” The one in the middle speaks, you noticed he also is the one that took off your sash. “What the hell was the point of all this? You just kidnap random people from their homes?” You glare up at the man and his two puppets. “Streets say you’re good friends with Spidey.” One of the smirks. “Had one of these guys watch him crawl in your window like some squashed bug.” You scoff softly, rolling your side to the side. “So what?”

The man in front shrugs. “Either you’re his whore or you know him. So which is it sweetheart?” He rests his hand on the back seat of your chair and leans in close to your face. “Who is Spider-Man?”

You licks your lips and stare back up at him, choking back the stretch his breath was. “I don’t know.”

He grins. “Hm. So you’re his whore. A special one at that. He doesn’t appear in just anyone’s home so what services do you offer him in exchange for some protection? Do they apply here? Baby, I can protect you too.”

He’s sick, your mind screamed. You struggled against your restraints.

“Shock you.” You spit on his shirt and he lands a hard slap across your cheek.

He mumbles a string of curses before grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him again. “Don’t forget who’s in the shocking chair, sweetheart. Your hero ain’t here so be a doll and shut the hell up.”

Your chest heaved up and down in deep breaths to calm your scared heart. You feel your cheek stinging and it didn’t help with this rotten man’s fingers digging into your skin.

Your silence pleases him and his other hand reaches down to your knee. “I don’t wanna hurt you, sweet thing. It’s just one simple question and I’ll let you go.” He lies. His hand rides up your thigh and your leg tries to kick him away from you but he just grips you tighter. “I don’t know.” You plead hoarsely. “I know, I know. So you say.” Out of the corner of your eye you see one of his men snatched into the darkness with a clawed hand around his mouth. Miguel. The guy in front of you digs his nails deeper in your skin and you can feel the scratch. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.” You whine at the pain, pursing your lips to keep yourself quiet. “See, Spidey’s head goes for millions of dollars–money you can’t even comprehend so if you could do your community a favor of just letting us in on some intel on the son of a bitch; that’d be great.” “You wanna kill him?” You ask breathlessly, looking to the other side to see another newbie being hindered, his neck tilted to the side while some teeth bite into his flesh. His body slowly lost consciousness and was also dragged into the darkness silently. “Most of Nueva York wants that guy dead. All the ones on top but I’m dirt poor, sweetie. It’d be a disservice for the hero to not let me kill him. Shouldn't he give to the poor and needy?” He sighs, letting go of your cheek so both his hands rests on your upper thighs. You feel your skin crawling and try to move away as far as you can in your seat. “But you don’t know anything do you? Then I’d be doing a disservice by throwing out some useful goods here, don't you think?” His grimy hands grip your hips, looping his fingers around your jean belt loops. Before you could even think, the man is instantly ripped off of you by his shirt. He’s thrown back on his side, skidding as he comes to a halt. Spider-Man towers in front of you, his back facing you. You could still see the rage oozing from his suit, shoulders and muscles tense and claws out. His chest rises and falls with each jagged breath, the only sound coming out of him.

“Spider-Man!” The man growls, stumbling to get back on his feet. His pistol had slipped from the back of his jeans, sliding away from him. “Dammit–Darrell! Fernando!” He calls to his two men but he freezes. On the floor are both his associates, one’s clothes ripped apart with claw marks on his chest, the other with his jaw slacked open and two puncture holes in his neck–a strange mixture of blood and another liquid oozing from the wound. He lets out a strangled scream as he looks back up at Spider-Man. His tall frame stalks over to him but the man crawls to find his gun. Before he could grab it, Miguel stomps on the man's arm, giving a satisfying crack to his bone which the man cries out painfully. While he writhes on the concrete ground, Miguel grabs onto his broken arm and lifts him up–he screams, trying to push Miguel away. “You wanted to kill me?” Miguel growls, his voice deep and menacing. The man pleads for his life and another set of footsteps come from behind. “Shoot him!” The man yells as Miguel looks back over his shoulder. The rest of the group comes up from behind Miguel, raising–what Miguel considers pathetic–guns up to his face. The eyes on Miguel’s mask squint slightly and just as quickly, he turns with the man in his hands and uses his body to protect himself from the onslaught of bullets. The man’s entire group fires and every single bullet pierces into his body, splattering blood on the ground and Miguel’s suit. Miguel makes sure that you weren’t hit at any moment. Miguel tosses the limp corpse to the side and pounces into the group, attaching his fangs into some man’s neck while his talons ripped along his arm to let go of the rifle he was holding. Chaos ensues and they all begin shooting at one another in hopes that one shot could land on Spider-Man. Miguel’s claws ripped apart limbs and skin, every single hand that raised against you was littered to the ground. He continues to swing and jump around, letting everyone get lost in the confusion before tearing through chests and stomachs. His rage knew no bounds at the moment. He had planned to just come in secretly while he still had a part of his mind. Get in, use his venom, take you and get out. But when he saw what that scum would’ve done to you, touching you, gripping onto you–he lost his mind. Even with Lyla’s brief protest, Miguel couldn’t help but want to tear him apart. So he did.

It wasn’t often Miguel had to be reduced to such measures but everyone had their limits. By the time it was over, he barely noticed how silent it had become. His ears were still ringing, he felt like he was underwater as he gulped in heaps of air. “Miguel!” He hears Lyla yell at him. He snaps his head to where he heard her voice, blind rage melting when he sees you still in the chair. He sees Lyla with her arms crossed, her little foot tapping angrily in mid-air. Lyla had done her best to cover your sight and hearing of the crime Miguel had done with holograms of whatever–surely it was much nicer than watching Miguel gnaw off a piece of someone’s throat. Miguel glances at his hands stained and dripping with blood. He wipes them on his legs, hoping to get it off him before you could see. He falls to his knees in front of you with a soft whine of your name and his mask phases off. “Lyla, blur the room.” Lyla does as told and lets you see him. Your eyes are concerned and scared. “Miggy…” You whisper, feeling the trauma set in. “I’m here, I’m here–I told you I’d protect you, yeah?” Miguel uses his talons to cut off the zip ties from your wrists and ankles that were digging in your skin. Once you were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms. Miguel fell back but made sure to hug you back, his arms going around your waist while his other arm went up to cradle your head. He buried himself in your shoulder, breathing in the mixture of your natural scent and the scent of the man. He growled and held you tighter. He’d do something about that smell.

“I was so scared–I didn’t know what to do–How did you find me?” You babbled as you finally felt safe enough to sob and cry. “Don’t worry about that. You’re safe. You’re okay.” Miguel reassures you, kissing your temple and cheek, pulling away gently to brush your messy hair away from your face. He wipes your tears with the back of his hand, unintentionally leaving a bloody mark. “Shit..” He mumbles, ashamed and pulls his hand away. You stop him, holding his hand back to your cheek. You just wanted to feel him, his warmth. You weren’t stupid. You knew what happened when Lyla put up holograms that blurred what you weren’t supposed to see. You didn’t care. May they rot. “Thank you.” You whimpered. “Thank you.” Miguel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Always. I’ll take you home.” “But, my apartment–” You try to speak as Miguel moves to hold your body in one hand while he swings on his web with the other. “Not your apartment. Mine. My penthouse. I’m never leaving you out of my sight again.” Your arms were securely around his neck. He was still tense but much less before. You tried to look back down but he squeezed you tighter– he didn’t want you to see.

For tonight, he’d take care of you just like all those nights you took care of him.

[tsukimefuku]

content warning: soft Aizawa x Reader, spoilers for season 6 of the anime, hurt and comfort, some fluff, roughly proofread. just a little something to get me off the writing rut. 1.1k

With a long-drawn sigh, Aizawa slouched back into the teacher’s lounge sofa, stretching his own leg forward as he mindlessly covered the eye patch with one of his hands. You wondered if his movement was propelled by a force of habit to scratch his phantom eye.

You had been catching up to speed on all the plans the pro heroes had made for what could only be dubbed as the D day. All the tireless, collective efforts to save Japan from more heartache and destruction. They had suffered enough — you all had.

At that moment, as your colleague draped his arms over the sofa, you couldn’t help but picture in him the figure of a hero Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his back.

Oxygen calmly came in and out of your nostrils, but somehow, your chest tightened as the room grew quieter after Aizawa’s sigh. The few stray rays of a setting sun cast on both of you the fleeting warmth of the calm before the storm, such as the bated breath from a last night on Earth.

“Hey,” you said, your voice lower than usual, barely above a whisper.

He hummed in return, still with his head dangling back in between his worn down shoulders, as he gazed past through the ceiling.

“You seem tired,” you concluded, mentally facepalming yourself with the stupidity of the obvious. Of course he was. You were too. The entirety of the UA was. “I…” you tried offering something else in earnest, but your voice trailed off to silence, only adding to the somber discomfort as the sun drew nearer to the horizon and darkness began slowly seeping into the lounge.

“I know,” he replied, tilting his head forward to look at you, fully aware that there was nothing much else to say in such circumstances. The dark circle under his eye hinted that tiredness was probably the only feeling his weary self could muster up to bear at that moment.

Ever since your high school days, when you weren’t much more than a teenager with a silly crush on your grumpy classmate and a chip on your shoulder, you had never seen Aizawa look so exhausted. Not during the exams you took together, not when you became teachers and pro heroes with gnarly working hours, not even after spending weeks in the hospital.

He looked decades older than himself.

You stepped towards Aizawa while sparing him a smile and stood in front of him, tilting your head down to meet his gaze.

“You’re looking like shit.”

A soft smile pulled on his cheek, which instantly brought you some semblance of comfort. These smiles from him — a rare occurrence, as you’d learned quickly during your first week of classes at UA with him eons ago — always did.

“Right back at you,” he replied, leaning forward on his knees with his elbows.

You chuckled, and he huffed, still with that smile on his face before it faded. His usual nonchalant expression was slightly tainted with the preoccupation of a teacher. You knew, you had seen that same face in the mirror more times than you could count.

“Aizawa, the students will be okay. They’re trained, we have a solid plan, and we know what we’re all dealing with this time,” you stated, putting your hands over his shoulders.

“You know that doesn’t guarantee anything,” he noted, and he was absolutely right.

“Still,” you insisted, “you have to believe it will all be okay. Otherwise, you won’t be able to rest well for tomorrow, and you absolutely need to.”

“I’m not the worrisome type,” Aizawa remarked.

“You give yourself too much credit.”

It was his time to chuckle, soft and low. For a while, you both stood there motionless, with your hands resting reassuringly over his shoulders. To share each other’s presence had been a staple for years, and the same could be said about the comfort you both drew from it.

Aizawa had this no-bullshit, straightforward way of dealing with things that drew you in right from the start, and the silly teenage crush became true admiration after a while. That, and the endless patience — in his own brand of brashness — that he had with you, because somehow, he saw something in you. Potential, he said years ago. And he was right.

You decided in a not-so-recent past to let go of your feelings for him — a not so successful attempt, but still. You were both always elbow-deep in a workload that never seemed to decrease, no matter how many hours you put in between the school and the pro hero gig. To have only twenty-four hours in a day seemed like a bad joke from the Gods to people like you two.

Not the greatest idea to get involved like this and risk such a treasured… something. Friendship? The word felt inaccurate to this day to explain the deep trust and bond forged through those decades.

“Can I offer some help with anything?” you gently brushed your thumbs over his shoulders before retreating your hands back to your waist, “You always have a pile of stuff to sort out before sleep, and you sure as hell need some shuteye quality time.”

Aizawa kept silent, his gaze low and focused on the ground.

“Shota?” You asked, still meeting no answer whatsoever.

Before you realized, he rested the side of his face over your abdomen, and gently pulled both of your hands up to his hair. Surprised, your breath hitched on its way out, and your eyes fluttered as your heart picked up the pace.

“Is this okay?” Aizawa asked, closing his eye while he relaxed further into you.

You softly hummed in accordance, brushing the tips of your fingers down his long locks, careful not to tangle them on his eye patch elastic band.

“I’m not just…” he paused, considering his words for a moment before continuing, “I’m not concerned only about the students.” He said those last words in a whisper, as his hands made their way to hold your elbows delicately.

Your hands instinctively tightened around his head, pressing him against you until it became a yearning embrace.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you whispered back, heaving a little before your next words, “promise me you will too?”

His hands slid under your arms, trailing around your body to press against your back while he hugged you back.

“I promise.”

You both stayed there for what felt like an eternity, embracing each other in borrowed time until the sun was finally set under the city’s skyline, taking away the last rays of clarity along with it.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[sugarypinecones]

DODGE!!!!! god i want dodge so bad i want to lay between his stretched out legs and wrap my arms around one of them and rest my head on his thigh while he plays with my hair while we watch smth together but it's all background noise because his dick is so close to me mouf and i js wanna run my nose against the little outline from his washed out jeans IS THAT A CRIME IS THAT SO TERRIBLE please oh my god his strong rodeo arms i just wanna sit on his lap and rub my hands all over him im sorry i think im ovulating

(in lois griffin voice) whoever that was.. thank you….

NO because ur SO real.. like i audibly went holy to this, had to screenshot, send to council, and come back to re read again like that one sarah paulson video.

this was meant to be a tiny tiny blurb but it turned out way longer than expected so sorry lolz + f!reader

ALSO! if you sent an ask i am working on it, but i was on vacation so now im finally home and yupppp

send more asks. anything. i will try and match ur freak as hard as i can pls god, and anyways that being said:

like, get me; it starts out somewhat innocent. tired and lazy because of all the panic bullshit, you two decide to just stay home rather going out to all the random parties and events thrown between each game.

dayna and his mom don’t care that he has you over — they find it nice he found someone, a nice distraction from inside his head.

as for the show, it’s probably some random documentary or reality show: first thing he saw when logging into the streaming platform. he, genuinely, is probably engrossed in it, but you’re engrossed in him: how close you two are.

you’re laying between his legs, obviously, and his hands are strung around you messily, just wanting to have some sort of hold on you. how he’s holding you, you probably have no idea what, focused on the washed-out jeans of his — weathered from wear by rodeos or helping anne or anything else.

he’s probably yapping about something on the TV — “i don’t see how bestfriends could do that to eachother..” bla bla bla, you’re not really focusing in on it - humming, trying to sound interested in whatever it is he’s actually talking about. some “oh really?” and “i know..” are strung throughout the humming, but you have no idea if it’s actually appropriate to his talking.

he seems to catch on, though, unbeknownst to you. it’s hard not to notice his pretty girlfriend’s eyes focused directly on his crotch every few minutes, head shifting back and forth ever so slightly — making his dick twitch with need.

you wondered if his jeans are always this tight — wondering if you looked earlier you could’ve seen it, but the truth was, you really couldn’t. this only happened after the fact you got in the car — but obviously, you weren’t keenly aware of his crotch up until the minute you got in bed.

his hands run up and down ur back softly, and god it just makes the URGE to run ur face along the outline so much worse !!! he’s fallen quiet, so u slightly wonder if maybe something’s wrong or maybe he caught onto your disinterest in his words, so you glance up out of the corner of your eye, only to realize he’s been watching you for god knows how long.

he probably says something stupid, like: “you know the tv’s over there, right?” or “interesting?” something really dumb and smart-assy. you roll your eyes, probably say something back, and one thing leads to another and he’s nonchalantly trying to suggest you could do it if you wanted to.

so you do. and god !! does it feel as good as u thought it would. he twitches beneath u and tries to act like it’s really not turning him on as much as it is, but it’s hard not to, a sticky, wet patch is already forming at the tip of his cock; itching to bleed through the light jeans.

he ends up pulling you closer, forgetting all about the tv, bringing you into a hasty kiss, needy and desperate but still filled with tenderness.

you fix yourself on his lap, smiling into the kiss, glad you got your way, like it was ever a fight to begin with — it never was, he would give you anything you asked for whenever you wanted.

he’s so gentle when he touches you. his large hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you even closer into his lap, his eyes closed, enjoying the kiss for a few more moments before pulling away, panting softly, breathless.

"you’re really not very good at paying attention." he mumbled breathlessly, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you.

he moved his hands down your sides, running them up and down your thighs, his thumbs brushing against the skin beneath the hems of your shorts as he shifted underneath you slightly.

“what’s going through your pretty little head, hm?” he mused, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face.

you hummed softly, looking up at him with a small, playful pout on your lips.

“well… i was listening,” you pouted, “kinda.”

he chuckled softly at your response, his hands continuing to run up and down your thighs, the touch of his palms warm and rough against your skin.

“you’re so cute,” he murmured, “but i don’t think you were listening at all.”

he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on your nose, before continuing to trail his lips down your jawline and down your neck.

“i think you were too distracted by something else,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin as he nipped at your neck softly.

he knew you far too well - he knew the way your body reacted to his touch. he knew how to make you melt.

he continued to nibble at your neck, gently, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send shivers down your spine.

“can you even remember what i was talking about?” he murmured playfully, his hands still running up and down your thighs.

“of course,” you retort, clearly defensive. “you don’t get how best friends.. could do that to eachother.” it’s clear you were listening to him, but not the television.

he chuckled softly, his lips pressed against your skin as you spoke.

“of course you remember that part,” he teased, knowing damn well you were paying more attention to his jeans than the television.

he gently nipped at your skin, sucking on a small patch of it for a moment, before pulling away.

“you were paying more attention to something else, weren’t you?”

you flush. obviously you were — who could blame you ?? :(( he was just soo close to u and so there..

he caught the flush of your cheeks, a smirk playing at his lips as he lifted his head to look at you.

“aww, you’re so cute when you blush, you know that?” he teased, “especially when you realize you’ve been caught.”

he chuckled softly, his hands moving up to your waist, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

you pull him into a needier kiss this time, hands roaming all over, as if trying to find the right place to grab: but all seemed so promising, that you couldn’t actually settle.

he groaned softly into the kiss, matching your neediness with his own. his hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pulled you close into his lap.

he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, requesting access that you happily gave him. his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it hungrily, as his hands roamed across your body.

he trailed kisses down your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. he nipped at your collarbone, leaving small, love bites in their wake.

he slowly pushed himself back against the back of the bed, pulling you with him so that you were now laying on top of him, your legs on each side of his hips.

his hands roamed down to your legs, gripping your thighs as he shifted beneath you, his hips rolling up against yours.

he groaned softly as he felt the pressure against his lap, his lips still moving across your neck, leaving little love bites in their wake.

“you drive me crazy,” he mumbled against your skin.

you hum in response — too overwhelmed with pleasure to say anything other than jumbled messes, so simplify yourself with a hum.

his hands moved up, slipping underneath your shirt, and running his palms across your skin. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it only made him want you more.

he pulled away from your neck, looking up at you with his blue, lust-filled eyes.

“i want you,” he breathed, “so badly.”

your breath hitches — and you want to tell him to have you — right there, however much he wanted, but you can’t strangle any words out.

he moved his hands up to your hips, his grip tightening as he pulled you tightly against him, grinding his lap up against yours.

he let out a soft groan, his head falling back against the back of the headboard as he felt the friction against his straining jeans.

“you’re so beautiful,” he panted, looking up at you with a look of need in his eyes, “so damn beautiful.”

he slid his hands up further, pushing up your shirt as he did, exposing your stomach. he ran his hands up across your stomach and up to your ribs, his touch leaving chills in their wake.

he bit his lip as he looked up at you, studying your face, taking in your features as if he hadn’t seen you a million times before.

“i want you,” he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse with need, “all of you, darling.”

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“well,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “what’s stopping you?”

he looked up at you, his eyes darkening with need.

“nothing,” he replied, his grip on you tightening as he spoke.

he shifted beneath you, pushing himself up so that he was sitting up properly against the back of the couch.

“except for these damn jeans,” he muttered, his hands moving to the button on his jeans.

you’re quick to help him — eagerly pawing at the button, undoing it with ease.

he let out a soft gasp at your eager touch, his hands moving to grip your waist as you undid the button on his jeans.

he lifted his hips as you began to pull down the jeans, a small, needy whine escaping from his lips as the fabric slid down his legs and hit the floor with a toss of your hand.

“so fucking needy..” he groaned softly, his hands running up and down your sides.

he pulled you back down onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he settled you against his lap.

his hips bucked up slightly, his arousal pressed against your thigh as he moved.

“you’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands roaming up and down your back as he spoke, “i’m so lucky to have you.”

he tilted his head, his lips tracing a path down your neck, nibbling at sensitive spots along the way. he left a trail of little love bites, his teeth grazing against your skin in a way that made you shiver.

“i want to touch you,” he murmured against your skin, his hands running up your thighs. “please let me touch you.”

you could give him permission a million times over — and he’d still ask before doing anything else in the process, so gently; a contrast difference to his rough hands.

“please.” you retort softly.

he groaned softly at your response, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled you closer.

“always so polite,” he muttered, his lips still trailing down your neck.

he slowly moved his hands up your thighs, his fingers slowly sliding under the hem of your shorts.

“i need you so badly,” he panted, his hands moving higher, “can i..?”

you nod vicariously.

he let out a soft sigh of relief at your response, his hands moving further up your thighs, until they reached the edge of your panties.

he ran his fingers along the edge of the fabric, groaning softly at the realization that he was so close to what he wanted.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “so perfect..”

you hum contemptibly, smiling.

he smiled at your hum, his hands slowly moving up, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

he ran his fingers over your skin, his touch gentle and soft, as he slowly moved towards your center.

he could feel you shiver with each touch, his own hips rolling slightly beneath you as he grew impatient.

he slowly moved his hand down, his fingers sliding across your sensitive flesh, his touch sending shivers up your spine.

“you’re so warm,” he murmured, “so ready..”

he gently began to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch light and teasing, as his other hand moved to your hip, holding you in place.

he groaned softly at the feel of your reaction, his eyes studying your face intently.

“so beautiful..” he repeated, his fingers slowly increasing their pace.

he watched as you began to move against his touch, your hips rolling in response to his touch.

he groaned softly as he felt you press against him, his own arousal growing more and more with each small movement you made.

“that’s it,” he panted, “just like that..”

he continued his movements, his fingers quickening their pace as he felt you growing closer.

he could feel your body shaking with need, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“just relax darling,” he murmured, “let go for me..”

he continued to rub at your sensitive core, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm, as he watched you grow closer and closer to the edge.

he could feel your body growing tense, your grip on him growing tighter, as you began to whine and pant with need.

“that’s it, just like that..” he repeated, his own hips rolling up against you as he continued his ministrations.

he watched as you grew tense, your body trembling as you reached the edge, your eyes squeezing shut as you arched your back slightly.

he kept up his movements, his hand still rubbing at your sensitive flesh, continuing to bring you closer and closer to release, “come for me, please..” he panted, his own need growing stronger by the second.

he could feel you growing closer and closer to the edge with each second, your breath coming in soft pants and moans as you teetered on the brink.

and finally, you came, your body shaking as you reached your climax, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

he continued to move his fingers gently against you, helping you ride out your orgasm, as he spoke softly, “so perfect..”

he gently pulled his hand away from you, his eyes watching as you came down from your high. he studied your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“that’s it darling,” he murmured, “just breathe..”

he moved his hands to your hips once more, holding you tightly in his lap as he waited for you to regain your bearings.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Lies in the dark

Pairing: boyfriend!Gojo x reader

Word Count: 3,8k

Synopsis: You received pictures of Satoru cheating on you, his longtime girlfriend, with other women. Completely heartbroken you leave him without hearing his side of the story. After weeks of drowning yourself in alcohol, the two of you meet again at Jujutsu High.

Warnings: cheating, language, use of alcohol/drugs, hurt

Your foot tabs against the floor while you wait for his puny figure to arrive in the doorframe. By now it’s far after midnight, actually you are dead tired from all the crying and thinking. But this can’t wait.

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise! I didn’t expect you to be awake this late!”

There he stands, casually taking off his blindfold while blessing you with his best cheeky grin. Satoru’s sight alone makes your gut twist in anger and disgust. He really has some nerves to welcome you like that after all he has done.

“You’re pretty late.”

Your voice sounds so cold that Gojo’s blood freezes in his veins. His smile is washed away in an instant, he has never seen you like this. Has something happened? Are you upset for some reason?

“Why do you look like someone died? I’m home, sweet thing!”

Your emotionless eyes glare at him through the darkness of the apartment. Damn, how could you fall for him and his stupid little game? Did you really believe him when he told you that you are the only one, the one and only woman in his life? Fuck, you were so dumb. Too stupid to realize that it isn’t work that makes him come home this late at night. Your mind is numb to the feeling of being betrayed, it isn’t the first time that you get screwed. But you thought that Satoru is somehow different, that he values your feeling more. Well, so much for that.

“Maybe you’re so late because you were with her, huh?”

He glances at you like he has to think about your words, eyebrows narrowed.

“Who do you mean exactly? Mei is out of town. Oh, I visited Shoko because she patched a student back together, but that was in the afternoon. Or was it? I don’t remember exactly…“

Enough of that bullshit. You don’t offer him any more words, instead you just throw your phone at him. The phone that reveals countless messages about meetings, fucking and mocking with other women, pictures of him caressing their basic faces in the way you knew all too well, giving them the affection late at night that you craved so much. And then the words of the woman that called you earlier…

“When he called me sweet thing I thought I was the only one for him until I saw you two on the streets the other day. He never mentioned he had a girlfriend!”

“I began investigating and as it seems, he had a thing with many other women as well. I’ll send you screenshots of every conversation we’ve had the last couple months.”

Sweet thing. The thought of him using your nickname for other woman makes you want to break down and cry. But even though your heart is shattered into a million little pieces, you refuse to gift him a single tear. No, he doesn’t deserve your agony. He doesn’t deserve to see the feelings you have for him. Instead, you just stare at him with blank eyes while sitting in your chair and watching his blue orbs widen in shock.

“(y/n)”, he breathes out, gaze wandering from the screen to you.

“Let me explain-“

“No need to explain anything. I don’t care about how much I liked you and wished this wasn’t true. I told you I’ll leave you alone if you make me feel this way. And I’m fucking leaving, Gojo. Don’t you dare follow me. Y’know, I’m not your backup plan, good luck with whatever you got going on.”

With a swift motion, you lift yourself off the chair and grab your already packed suitcase.

“You can’t leave without hearing my side! I never cheated on yo-“

“Might be true that there’s always two sides to a story. Fuck your weak ass side tho. I’m done here.”

Heels clicking against the hard floor underneath your feet, you confidently cross the room and expand yourself in front of him. Satoru’s huge frame blocks the door, you can’t just get past him. But you need to get out of this apartment filled with dreadful memories and your shattered hopes as soon as possible before you have a complete breakdown.

“I’m serious Gojo.”

“It’s baby for you.”

“Bet she calls you that too. Get away from the door, we are done.”

“(y/n), hear me out”, his form moves towards you, like a predator approaching its prey.

No, you can’t. You don’t want him to get that close to you. You can’t stand him near you.

“Stay away from me”, you choke out, arms wrapped around yourself in a desperate attempt to console your own aching heart.

“I loved you for 8 years, 8 fucking years Satoru! I gave you everything I had and you trampled on that by fucking another woman so basic that I want to throw up. I have nothing more to say to you, it’s enough that I have to endure the sight of you at every damn meeting of jujutsu sorcerers. Now get.out.of.the.way.”

Your cruel words make even Satoru’s heart jump in agony, his shaky breath fills the air. Do you really want to break up with him without giving him the chance to explain himself? He has so much to say, so much to clarify. Fuck, he could end all this madness and your suffering. But it doesn’t matter. He has no choice but to let you go for the moment. Satoru knows you well enough to be aware of the fact that you won’t listen to him in your wrath, always suborn and confident. Apart from that, he himself has no idea who sent these messages to you and where these pictures come from. He has to investigate the matter first before he can face you again. As much as his whole body struggles against it, he takes a step to the side in order to let you go for the moment.

“I love you with all my heart and I’ll do anything to prove that you are the only one for me.”

Boom.

You close the door behind you noisily. Enough of that lying. You stumble into the fresh air of the night, tears pooling your eyes and taking away your sight. Get a hotel, take a hot shower, turn off your phone. Get over the fact that your boyfriend of 8 fucking years cheated on you, get over the fact that your relationship ended in the foulest way. God, it hurts so bad that you want to break down in the middle of the street, your numb limbs still in shock. But you need to get going. After all, you are a grade 1 sorcerer, everyone counts on your abilities. And a man who doesn’t value you shouldn’t be the reason you forget yourself and your aspiration. _________________________________________________________

Hey girl, need a ride to Jujutsu High? Meeting up in 15 min

You sign at the message of Mei on your phone. It’s been three weeks. Three weeks without seeing Satoru’s cheating face, three weeks in which he called you at least 10 times a day, three weeks of constant crying in the pillows of random hotels and filling yourself up with alcohol at clubs around the town. You feel like crap and look even worse from time to time. But today, you have to get yourself together. For the sake of your job, for the other people you care about like Mei and Nanami. Do all of them know what happened? Probably not, you only told Mei about it and Satoru would hardly admit that he cheated on you multiple times.

Do I really have to?

Your white uniform lies untouched in your suitcase, memories of last mission flood your mind. You were with him, laughing, playing, clapping the asses of multiple curses all at once. Everything was fine, everything was great. Life can change so quickly.

Of course you have to, dumbass.

But you have no other choice. With trembling fingers, you put on the white dress with long sleeves and cut outs that emphasize your curves so well and caught the attention of Satoru first. It fits a little looser than usual. Well, given the fact that you mostly live on drinks that’s no surprise. You put on your round sunglasses to hide the dark circles under your eyes which can be no longer covered by makeup and brush through your hair a few times. Admittedly, you look better than the last few weeks, but definitely worse than usual.

Your cream colored heels click against the marble floor of the hotel lobby as you walk outside, Mei’s car already waiting for you.

“You look better than I thought”, she comments when you sit beside her.

“Thanks I guess, gold digger.”

She gives you a small smile before her eyes get serious again.

“I’m here for you today, ‘kay? Might hire someone who kills him though…”

“You would spend money for me? Damn, you must really like me Mei”, you remark sarcastically.

“I’d do anything for you girl. Let’s get this over with, huh?”

The journey goes by far too quickly for your taste, fingertips already shaking at the thought of seeing his stupid pretty face again. What was he doing all this time? Your gut twists in agony. Probably went out with his other women, what else? Do you seriously think he missed you? That breakup doubtless hurt you ten times more than him. His face will wear the same stupid grin as always, his words will sound just as irresponsible as usual. Everything stays the same. Except for the fact that you aren’t by his side anymore.

“God, since when is this ass so punctual”, Mei hisses.

And there he stand, wearing his sunglasses and uniform, leaned against the doorframe while he probably drives Utahime mad with his mocking. Suddenly you are out of breath, lungs refusing their service as your eyes fill with salty tears again. No, you can’t cry now. You were so cool when you left him. He doesn’t deserve your tears or to see your pain. His cheating ass isn’t worth your throbbing.

“Keep it cool”, Mei speaks out with low voice.

Yes, you need to keep it cool. Straighten your back, swing your hips, show him that you don’t care about him at all.

“What’s up everyone”, you snort out, hand resting against your hips while eyeing everyone except Satoru.

“Wow, you’re early. Since when do you come on time?”, Nanami dryly responses.

“Why so rude, Kento? I thought you’d be happy to see me again, we are best friends since school after all!”

“You are a pain in the ass, (y/n).”

Fuck, you can feel his eyes almost eating you up. Your cheeks begin to burn just by the thought of it.

“Are you alright, (y/n)? You look a little thinner than last time”, Utahime comments, turning away from Satoru.

You swallow hard, panic rises inside your chest. For the first time, you don’t want everyone’s attention on you. Come on, just that meeting. An hour and you’re rid of him, an hour and you’re holed up in a random club again.

“You’d lose some weight too if you were me, Utahime. Now stop looking at my perfect ass and get going.”

Your remark catches everyone off guard, especially Satoru and his guilty conscience. For your standards, you look absolutely horrible and your answers have lost their bite. You are just the shell of yourself that slightly smells like alcohol.

“Hey, if there’s something going on…You know we can talk, right?”, Nanami discretely murmurs into your ear, worry lines draw his face.

“Thanks man, I don’t need anybody but myself though.”

And with that, you turn on your heels and walk through the door. Away from his hungry sight, away from their annoying questions. One damn meeting to get over with. One.damn.meeting.

“You look like shit”, Masamichi notes dryly while watching you sit down.

“Stop being so fucking annoying or I’ll quit”, you bark back, glaring at him through the shade of your glasses.

“What’s up your ass, (y/n)? You’re annoying as hell, but in another way. Are you alright?”

You can’t take it anymore. All the questions and fucking looks. As if the slight change of your appearance is the only thing that’s interesting at the moment. Yeah, you are as fine as you can be, on the brick of tears, mind racing just by the thought of Satoru looking your direction, let alone talk to you. But that’s none of anyone’s business. If you have to repeat one more time what happened a few weeks ago you’ll probably break down.

“Stop asking questions and get this meeting over with, I’m not payed enough to be here”, Mei interrupts and positions herself beside you.

It’s all a blur. The words that come out of his mouth seem to fade away before hitting your ear. All you can think about is Satoru who sits towards you, eyes darted on your figure. You don’t have to look at him to be aware of the fact that he is eyeing you up and down, waiting for a chance to talk to you.

Over the last couple of weeks, he tried to call you multiple times, not scared by the fact that you blocked him on every possible communication way the slightest. Why does he have to keep rubbing salt in the wound? The moment your phone rings and his name appears on the screen, you relive the fateful moment of realization over and over again, imagining him fucking another woman mercilessly while you sit at home and wait for him to come back. You know that you are too good for that, that the best thing you could do was leaving his cheating ass as soon as possible. But in your lonely nights when returning from a random club after talking to random strangers you find yourself lying in bed and cry your heart out over the relationship you thought was the best thing that could have happened to you.

“(y/n)?”

“Ayo, you there?”, Mei murmurs into your ear and punches your arms slightly.

You have to blink the pain away, still consumed by Gojo’s presence. Your heart skips a beat. Was someone talking to you?

“I just wish I was somewhere else”, you mutter, eyes directed to the ground.

Fuck, you feel like crying all over again. Why does it have to hurt this bad? Why does he have to be here, eying you up and down as if you were his prey? Why did he have to cheat on you and destroy the live you built together? All of that isn’t fair. You shouldn’t be sitting here, running on drinks with a few hours of sleep a week and a bleeding heart while he seems to be just fine. Your conscience shouldn’t weigh on you when you’re talking to a guy while Satoru is fucking his way through the world.

“(y/n)?”

Your name out of his sinful mouth makes your gut turn in disgust, you feel like throwing up.

“Get my name out of your dirty mouth”, you jeer at him, eyes yanking up to notice that he’s already staring at you with his face all serious.

You can’t take it anymore. With shaky legs you lift yourself up, leaving the room with fast steps. The tears in your eyes start to burn their way through your face and take your sight completely. After all, maybe you aren’t strong enough to simply get over his betrayal. God, you loved Satoru with all your heart. In all these years there was never another guy you even found attractive. You were so loyal, in love and fucking dumb. Too dumb to realize that he in fact does seem to think that you are replaceable.

“Get your ass back in, Gojo. I dare you!”, Mei’s voice threatens from afar.

“(y/n), please hear me out. Give me a chance to explain!”

No, no, no. You can’t bare him near you, let alone hearing your name out of his mouth. You need to leave and never return.

“(y/n)!”

You feel his grip around your left wrist, his touch burning like acid on your highly sensitive skin. God, how often you longed for his touch, to feel his tender fingertips one last time. But this is not right. The thought of his hands caressing you after fondling with other woman makes you want to vomit and burn alive.

“Get your dirty hands off me!”, you cry out, other hand slapping against his cheek at high tempo.

His infinity doesn’t stop your fist from hitting his face with full force. You stare at his motionless figure, breath hanging heavy between the both of you.

“Please, give me a minute to explain. The last few weeks were absolute hell for me and I’ve been dying to see you today.”

Hot tears swell up your eyes once more while agony seems to consume you all over again. Hell for him? What about you? The constant feeling of not being enough, the questions lingering your mind how long this has been going on behind your back, the endless waterfall of tears, not being able to drink enough to forget him.

“You have to be kidding. Tell me you’re not serious about that bullshit. Hell for you? You fucking ripped be apart, Satoru! You throw our life away for sex with a few young chicks! You have no right to be sad about anything!”, you scream on top of your lungs, fighting desperately to escape his scorching touch around your wrist.

“I didn’t cheat on you, (y/n)! I-“

“So I’ve been imagining these pictures of you on top of that slut and the countless messages? Stop this shit right now! You’ve done enough. You-“

“Listen to me, damn it!”, he yells, ruffling his messy hair.

Why? Why does he have to keep rubbing salt in your already throbbing wound? Everything was just fine, you two were inseparable. What about growing old together? What about building a live together? All that, gone in the wind. Just because he decided to fuck someone else.

“The man you see on these pictures isn’t me, I don’t know these women, (y/n). I began to investigate. The man you see is a cursed spirit, a damn strong one that is able to take on the appearance of other living being, including my handsome self. I wish I could tell you why, I wish I could tell you who the hell that woman is. We assume that someone wants to set you off against me so that we both get vulnerable.”

He tears the blindfold from his face, revealing tears that glister in his glossy eyes. Your heart sinks, all you can do is stare at him in a desperate attempt to understand what he’s saying. Can it…be true?

“We?”

“Nanami helped me out. He knows this technical stuff better than I do. (y/n), I would never hurt you like that, not in a million years. You mean everything to me, it kills me to see you hurt like that, even though I absolutely understand why you believed in all of this and didn’t wanna talk with me. Just please, I’m begging on my knees if I have to, give me a chance to find out more about this madness and trust me with this one.”

You don’t know what is happening to you, it feels like you’re going to puke. Is this really true? Did he in fact not cheat on you with these women? His explanation sounds plausible and the shimmer in his eyes tells you that he’s not lying. Satoru was always bad at not telling the truth, his pupils always widen. Not right now though.

You want to collapse on the floor, your head seems to weight a ton from all these emotions, thoughts and possibilities.

“Why didn’t you tell me right from the start?”, you blurt out, voice coated in anger.

“Would you have really listened to me if I had no evidence? I took photos with that thing and couldn’t hold myself back from killing that fucker. Nanami was with me. Please, (y/n). Please believe me.”

You take in the pictures, how there seems to be two Gojo’s in each one. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is all too much. You don’t know what to think or feel. Is this true? Is there really something like a spark of hope left for your relationship?

“No”, you confirm.

You close your eyes for a moment to organize your thoughts and calm your breathing. All this time, Satoru never showed any interest in other woman, he doesn’t even stay in contact with Mei or Shoko regularly. He has no problem with you using your phone to write messages to Nanami or Yuji when he’s busy with something else. No, since you’ve known him, there was never a cause for concern. Satoru tells you over and over again how much he loves you, sometimes you even thought that he might be obsessed with you.

Maybe he didn’t cheat, maybe he did. But doesn’t your longtime boyfriend deserve a trust bonus, a chance to show you that nothing ever happened between him and these women?

When you open your eyes again, they are pooled by tears. Since that dreadful evening, you never allowed yourself to miss, let alone think about him. You tried to drown your feelings in alcohol and drugs. But now he’s standing in front of you, everything could be fine, all of this could be nothing but a failed attempt to separate the two of you. Deep within, you always hoped for it to be a nightmare, a stupid misunderstanding. Is that all it is?

“I-I thought I’ve l-lost you forever”, you stutter.

He doesn’t hesitate. In an instant he pulls you into his arms, presses your body against his beating heart and trembling frame. God, how much you missed getting lost in his warm embrace, to feel his breath brush against your ears. Just now you realize how much it killed you to be away from him.

“Can’t imagine how much I missed you. The thought of losing you…”, his voice breaks and so does your heart.

“I love you Satoru. I love you more than anything else.”

You get lost against his lips, put all the grief of the last weeks into this one kiss.

“Let’s get home, shall we?”, he whispers against your lips.

“Home. Yeah, that sounds pretty good…”