#would you believe me if i said this is one of the strongest guys in one piece

[dykealloy]

god's favourite ragdoll princess and the most miserable girl in the world

[irisintheafterglow]

it's all me, just don't go (meet me in the afterglow)

summary: satoru is jealous but refuses to admit it.

wc: 1.2k

cw/tags: gojo x reader, arguing, miscommunication, angst/comfort, established relationship, lowercase because this was originally going to be a short answer to a request but ended up being 1k+ words (oops)

note: welcome back gojo nation, today i offer angst that started as a fluffy co-parenting megumi prompt and turned into...this. based on the jealousy prompts from @creativepromptsforwriting !! hope you enjoy :D

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

"you think i'm jealous? jealousy is not in my vocabulary, babe."

"mhmm, sure. you're not jealous and the sky isn't blue," you fire back without hesitation. what started as a petty argument was beginning to boil your blood a little too hot for comfort, and you couldn't pinpoint why. thoughts poked around in your mind of your boyfriend's arrogance, the need to be the best, and simultaneous fear that you were going to leave him. but, in true satoru fashion, he chose to be an enigma instead of communicating.

"i'm literally the strongest being in existence," he argues and you catch your eye twitch in the rearview mirror. "what would i have to be jealous about?" a part of you wanted to just slam on the brakes to see if he'd go flying forward but decided against it because of the other occupants in the car. as much as they tried to act like they weren't listening, the two kids in the back weren't very good at hiding their snickers of amusement. "like, really. i'm super hot, i'm super strong, i've got the voice of an angel-"

"i'm just saying, satoru. your behavior back there was...weird. i didn't like it," you mutter.

"and i didn't like how that guy was looking at you like you were some kind of dessert in a pastry shop," he counters. "i just...it's fine. you don't get it." your stomach churns unexpectedly at his tone and there's a sharp pain in your heart that you don't anticipate. you know he didn't mean it, but the sternness of his voice was sounding more hostile the longer you talked with him. it made your face hot, not in that butterflies and daydreams kind of way that he normally made you feel. this feeling was foreign and intense, a sensation that made you want to curl up and hide. it was the same feeling as when you were about to exorcise a curse.

when you were about to fight.

"what's that supposed to mean?" the atmosphere of the car changes in an instant and you can feel the effect your five words have on every occupant of the vehicle. megumi and tsumiki's gazes dart upward, eyeing you nervously while a robotic stiffness shoots through satoru's body. "what do i not get?"

"it's nothing," he grits through his teeth, but you're too angry to back down.

"it's not nothing, so spill it," you say and his jaw clenches. "why are you so jealous of some dude at the grocery store?"

"i said i wasn't jealous."

"your actions are saying otherwise." you start relying more on your instinct to drive you back towards jujutsu tech because your brain was starting to shut down.

"what, you don't believe me? why don't you just trust me?" he's on the verge of shouting at you. he never shouts at you. it terrifies you and it makes the two kids in the second row shift uneasily in their car seats. you don't know what else to say; your mind was preoccupied with not crashing the car and trying not to cry from the stifling pressure in the car.

"i-i don't like you right now," you force out. it's the wrong thing to say and you can sense satoru snap before he does.

"please, be my guest. go with your little cashier if you like him so much better," he spits and your body moves before you can register what it's doing. one minute, you're driving down the street toward the school; the next, you're turning into the nearest mini-mall parking lot, putting the car in park, and slamming the driver's side door behind you. you don't know where else to go, but all you know is that you can't stay in that car with satoru when he's like that. he'd never do anything to hurt megs or tsumiki, but being on the road in such a compromised mental state wasn't safe for any of you. so, you start walking.

the sun was nearly down and you knew it would be faster if you just sucked it up and drove the rest of the way, but something about this petty little fight was bringing up memories you didn't want to rehash. after you make it past the first stoplight, the telltale hum of your car's engine pulls up next to you, coming to a stop while you continue in the direction of the school. punching the hazards button, he jumps from the driver's seat onto the sidewalk to call after you, but you shake your head.

"babe. babe, please get back in the car," he pleads and you keep walking. "i'm sorry. please, come back in the car. i'll drive us the rest of the way and we can talk."

"it's fine," you state firmly without looking at him, "i'll walk back."

"i made a mistake. please, please come back in the car." he gently grabs your wrist to stop you and you shoot him a brutal glare from the corner of your eye, seeing him deflate in real-time. "please." smaller footsteps approach from behind him, and your senses snap back into place when you see that megumi and tsumiki followed satoru out of the car.

"he was stupid," tsumiki says and her brother nods in agreement, "really stupid."

"and if you're walking back to school, we're walking with you," megumi declares and the sentiment is enough to finally get you back in the passenger seat, staring out the window for the few agonizing minutes remaining of the drive. once you've turned on the tv and stuck a frozen dinner in the oven for the two children, you make your way to the bathroom to wash your face of its still-burning sensation. you've just finished drying your face in front of the mirror when he trudges in like a kicked puppy. you feel him before you see him, his arms wrapping around your torso and his face disappearing into your neck.

"i'm so sorry," he whispers and you swallow a thick lump in your throat. "i'm so sorry for what i said and what i did and how i made you feel. you were right; i was jealous. just...seeing you live out such a mundane scene as buying groceries reminded me that you could have anyone you wanted." you turn to face him with a puzzled look.

"what do you mean, anyone i wanted?"

"you could be with anyone you wanted," he says quietly. "anyone but me."

"oh," is all you can choke out before you pull him as close as humanly possible, holding him so tightly that he'd be a fool to think you would ever want anyone else.

"you could have any life you wanted," his voice breaks against your skin. "not one where our best friends die before they reach 20 or disappear off the face of the planet. you don't need to have this one. you don't need to stay with me."

"has it ever occurred to you, satoru," you murmur, "that maybe i want to stay with you? forever and after that?"

"why would you do that to yourself?"

"loving you is not a burden, gojo satoru. i would find you in any lifetime and i would love you in every single one," you vow and your chest aches when he sniffles softly.

"i don't deserve you. i really don't."

"maybe you do, maybe you don't, but that's not up to me to decide. so, it doesn't matter because i'm staying."

"you'll stay?"

"forever and after that."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[smallestapplin]

Do you think Overlord from transformers would be type of guy "I love kinda of woman who can beat the sh t out of me"

Ok ok soo i imagine cybertronian reader who was able to beat the sh t out of Overlord who's now in love with cybertronian reader.

What would her team aka the lost light would react to this 😂😂

This had me cackling. Also I apologize I know you said fem but I don't know how to make the gender important to the story (I'm gender blind I'm so sorry.)

-

-

- you beating Overlord's aft was a miracle and a half. You utilized his pride and slowness against him, though struggling more than you'd like to admit, you managed to out pace him and put the large bot in his place.

- "I don't know what I did! I beat his aft and now he won't leave me alone! I even tell him off and that just seems to get him more interested!" Is what you cry to Rodimus about.

- "I'm gonna be real with you, I don't know how to help you with that. I mean, at least he's not going off the rails and starting fights?" It's all he's got. You know he's right, but it doesn't help you one bit, so yog end up groaning and slumping over in your seat. Roddy tries to pat your back and show you some cool earth thing he has, before Overlord finds you, and coos about how worried he was when you weren't in your habsuite, and glares at Rodimus.

- Overlord still tries to fight everyone, and by Primus Megatron gets it the worst, but he's happy all that's needed is for you to angrily yell Overlord's name and call him back like a dog. Megatron always breathes a sigh of relief when your enraged voice echoes through the room, calling for Overlord to "bring you aft over here right now, I swear to primus if I have to put down my report!-" and watch as the equally large bot instantly drops his fighting stance, rushing over to you, looking far too happy and pleased to be called by you (even if you aren't'.)

- You're tired, you just want to do you job and go about your day, not wake up from a statis to the large blue mech over you, holding a thing of energon for you and asking to spar.

- Ratchet and First Aid hear and see it the most, and believe Ratchet gives you high an audio processor full. You send Overlord to the med bay frequently, and he can't even scold the bot into being more careful cause he's not even listening! He has to deal with Overlord staring at you and not even hearing him.

- First Aid tries to help in that regard, explaining to you that this is getting out of servo, but Overlord nearly throws a medical berth at him for it, only stopping when you glare at him.

- "I fight him, he likes it, I ignore him, he likes that too! Nothing I do sends the massage home for him."

- Ultra Magnus wants to help, trust him he does! This is classified as harassment and he swore to always help his crew members....but....you are literally the only thing keeping Overlord docile, and First Aid and Rodimus have already reported that Overlord does try to swing at them for interfering.

It's safer for everyone to not, after all you seem to handle yourself just fine! You're a strong bot that can handle one of the strongest gladiators in history! He lets you vent as much as you need, but eventually has to tell you he can help once Overlord oversteps.

- Lucky you, you don't have to worry about that. Overlord is obsessed with beating you in battle, but also he loves fighting you, you carry yourself with such strength and confidence once against him, he's smitten. With your speed, to him, it makes your battles feel like a dance! Your movements and skill have him smitten, as does your attitude, your fire and sass have him weak in the knees.

- Prowl is somehow your only ride or die here, he's more worried about what Overlord could do but doesn't think before shouting at him to give you space or to frag off, the temperamental officer goes into protective mode when it comes to you.

- Overlord does not like Prowl because of this, but you cling to your friend in thanks.

- "It's every damn cycle, don't you have a hobby!? Frag I don'tknow, watch a movie, pick up blacksmithing, SOMETHING!" Prowl barely has time to dodge a swift punch, but he manages, and next thing you know there does the fourth table of the week, followed by more shouting, and you having to yell for Overlord to knock it off.

- Rung is definitely getting good use as a therapist, he's trying his best to give you coping skills to help ease your frustrations with your situation, and while they work, you just come back to tell him you came back to your habsuite to Overlord on your berth, and pulling you into his lap.

- "It's rude he didn't ask before doing so."

- "AND THEN HE ASKED TO SPARK BOND, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT!?"

- "Oh my, he asked to spark bond-"

- Even just trying to have a professional conversation with you turns into a chore, not because of you, but because of the angry look guard dog standing behind you, glaring down at anyone speaking to you.

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter three -

This has got to be the longest crush ever

Robin’s bad date, and a late night that changes everything.

warnings: 18+ A little bit of queer and mid twenties crisis angst for Robin, with comfort obvi. Tension, but are we surprised at this point?, and a secret third thing, wonder what it could be? 😚

wc: 6.3k

authors note: Hi babies! I am taking just a week off from my posting schedule for this week long work trip I’m taking on Monday. There’s lots of conferences and I won’t have much down time. We will resume our normal posting schedule for chapter four starting 3/20 🌻🧡

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

Would you believe me if I said I’m in love? 

                            Baby, I want you to want me.

You can’t believe you landed yourself in detention.

All your late night study sessions for the SAT’s that led to oversleeping and missed alarms finally catching up to you just like Robin warned you it would. Miss O’Donnell is the one who makes your best friend's predictions come true, handing you that notorious pink slip for walking into her class ten minutes late for the third time this week. 

When you arrive at exactly 3:15, the classroom is mostly empty. Your eyes scan the bored faces of the few students joining you, hoping to at least see Eddie’s familiar head of curls. But of course, today of all days, he’s managed to be on his best behavior or just didn’t get caught. 

Sighing defeated, you give Mr. Clark a tight lipped smile, ignoring the shocked look on his face seeing you in here. Picking an empty desk in the middle away from anyone, you decide to busy yourself with the Algebra homework you’ve been avoiding for the better half of a week. It’s when you lean over to unzip your backpack that you catch the sounds of sneakers squeaking against the ceramic floors.

”Ahh, Mr. Harrington. Even fashionably late to detention, I see. Your hair looks good enough to sit in silence for an hour and a half to me.” Mr. Clark announces the king of Hawkins's grand entrance with the kind of sarcasm that makes you smirk as you start arranging your things on your desk.

“That’s good to know 'cause I was doing it for you Mr. C.”

Steve Harrington always thinks he’s so charming

Snorting as you click your pen, you dare to look up only to catch ‘the hair’ looking right back at you with that golden smile that you’ve seen take even the strongest soldiers out. 

Oh no. 

Eyes going big, you quickly bring your attention back down to your homework, silently hoping he doesn’t take the seat next to you and land you in here next week too. 

“So thoughtful of you. Now why don’t you take a seat and do some studying for that test on Monday. And maybe this semester you won’t have to worry about relying on extra credit to keep playing basketball.” Mr. Clark dismisses him, earning a low whistle from the boy who holds his hands up in surrender, Nike covered feet coming down your row.

No, no, no, NO.

You still don’t look up, rereading the same question over and over again because no matter how many times you try, you’re too distracted by the cedar and clove that invades your senses kicking them into overdrive. The whites of his sneakers catch in your peripherals when he does the unimaginable and sits next to you.

Staring at the equation with the kind of concentration that’ll be sure to give you a migraine later, it takes him a good thirty seconds before he temporarily gives up trying to get your attention to grab something that gives the illusion of studying out of his backpack. 

Trying to play it cool, your stomach twists in nervous knots worse than the ones you get when Robin forces you on the janky rides at the summer fair every year. Sure, you’ve been hit on by a guy here and there, but no one can prepare you for what it’s like to catch Steve Harrington’s attention—especially for someone in your Hawkins hierarchy who would never be on the receiving end of it.

He flips through the pages of his textbook loudly, earning his first warning glare from Mr. Clark, and you decide to write your name on the top of the page so at least it looks like you’re doing something. After a couple bounces of your knee, you can feel the heat of his gaze back on you.

”Psst, hey.” 

The last letter of your name comes out illegible, and you jump at the hushed sound of his voice. Taking a deep breath, you work up the courage to meet his flirtatious smirk and golden brown eyes. The sun leaking through the windows gives you a glimpse of the green that hides inside them from this close. You hate to admit that he’s just as pretty as everyone says he is.

”Hi,” you smile a little shy, offering a small wave of your pen and it lights up his whole face, making your body buzz.

”You have a highlighter I can use or something?” He keeps up his ruse, the whites of his teeth showing in a grin.

You arch an eyebrow at him, something sarcastic reminiscent of Mr. Clark flashing behind your eyes. 

“What? You don’t think I’m actually going to study?” He acts shocked, slapping his giant hand across his chest and it earns the kind of giggle from you that pushes him full steam ahead.

”It’s blue, is that okay?” Giving into the bait, you try and hide the way your face warms, ducking down to dig in the bottom of your backpack.

”Are you kidding? I love blue. Favorite color actually.” Laying it on thick, you can see the way he scoots to the edge of his seat, the spice of his cologne making you bite at your bottom lip as your fingers wrap around what you’re looking for.

Sitting up in your seat, you aren’t expecting him to be so close and it threatens to steal the air right out of your lungs.

”H-here,” you manage, holding the blue writing utensil in the small space that's left between you.

Steve's eyes roam your face freely, pink tongue coming out to wet his full bottom lip before they settle back on your gaze, lids a little heavy, voice low and somehow sticky sweet.

”Thanks, honey.” He leans forward more, purposely brushing his fingers with yours when he takes it out of your grasp, “but now, I’m afraid the only way you’re gonna get it back is to let me drive you home after this.”

“I’ve got plenty, you can keep that one,” you try to stay strong, but when that second giggle slips out, you seal your fate.

”I can’t do that, this is your favorite one.” He tisks like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard, with a crooked grin that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

”Is it?”

”Absolutely.”

“Are you two done? Or should we schedule a second date for next week?” Mr. Clark interrupts.

”That would actually be date number three. We’re going on two after this is over.” Steve smirks, throwing you a wink ignoring the harsh way you whisper of his name. 

Yeah… you were fucked.

“I’ve got a date tonight!” 

Robin sings excitedly, bursting through the front door in a wild ball of energy, successfully waking you up from your nap on the couch. Blinking slowly, as you start to recognize your surroundings, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you force yourself to sit up, wincing at your stiff neck and the fact that you dreamed about Steve Harrington again. 

“A date with who?” You grumble, still a little grouchy, yawning with a stretch that pops in your back.

”This girl that I met at the record store this morning, we talked about Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos for what felt like hours. She’s just, wow, she’s so cool. Almost too cool for me, you know? She’s a senior in college-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up.” Cutting her off before she can ramble any longer, you wave your hands for her to stop: “First of all, no one is too cool for you, okay? If anything, it’s always going to be the other way around.”

“Yeah, okay, Steve.”

It takes a minute for her words to sink in about the man you haven’t seen in almost a week and a half, but when they do, the glare that settles on your face makes her laugh. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpan with a tight-lipped smirk, before clearing your throat, “Well where are you guys going? Do you want me to go undercover in case you need saving? I’m fully prepared for a stakeout.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but her smile, which spreads wide enough to see all her teeth, gives away her love for your dramatics. 

“No, I don’t need you to go undercover or anything. I mean, it is going to be nice knowing you’ll be here waiting for me to tell you all about it instead of having to call you and hope the city girl answers.” She teases, earning the scoff from you that she was looking for.

“I’m choosing to ignore that, and if at any point you change your mind, you know your own number.”

Earning a genuine laugh from Robin always makes your soul feel lighter, so when your joke lands and you get one, the heaviness of Steve that’s been weighing down on your shoulders eases up just a little bit.

”I’ve just never been approached in public before like that, you know? It’s not just the other girl you know is gay on campus. I don’t know, it feels good.” Your best friend’s confession makes you want to wrap her up in a hug, keeping the urge to remind her of your offer to move to the city with you to yourself for right now, letting her bask in the moment.

”Well, you're hot. Can you blame her? If you weren’t basically like a sister to me, I’d be all over it.” Wiggling your eyebrows, she flips you off, but you still catch the tinge of pink that paints her cheeks rosy.

”Please, Steve would have my head on a stake.” She snorts, purposely trying to get under your skin now.

”Robin.”

”What? I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel in his eye when I mentioned your little ‘adventure’ last week” She giggles, heading towards her bedroom.

If only she knew just how much those words were true. Your thighs meet like in the memory you can’t stop playing on a loop, palms turning sweaty, remembering the velvet of his lips so close to your neck.

”Wait! Did you ask that on purpose?!” You gasp, jumping to your feet to follow her.

”Maybe.”

”Maybe?!”

”You know what I do need help with?” She ignores you, spinning on her heel to meet your narrowed eyes.

”What?”

”Help me pick any outfit?” Pushing out her bottom lip, she gives you the kind of puppy dog eyes that no one in their right mind could say no to.

Sighing heavily, your feet drag on the carpet before flopping yourself onto her bed huffing out a “Fine” as the box springs squeak.

The rest of the day is spent going through what feels like every outfit in Robin’s possession, even getting desperate enough to try on some of your clothes despite your clashing styles. Settling on a pair of boot cut jeans, a black half crop top with a flannel shirt that you’re pretty sure she stole from Steve and the Dr. Martin’s you got her for her birthday last year, she was ready to break hearts. Blue eyes roll in the back of her head when you make her say ‘I’m the prize’ until you feel like she halfway believes it before handing over her I.D. that you’d found stuffed between the cushions of the couch in a frenzied panic to search for it only ten minutes prior.

The sun starts to set on Robin’s small apartment after she finally heads out the door, and the shadows that bounce off the white walls bring back the thoughts of Steve you’d successfully gotten rid of for a few fleeting hours. 

Huffing to yourself with crossed arms, you watch the flat bag of popcorn spin around in the microwave. You can still hear the beginning Moonstruck playing on the TV in the living room, over the loud hum of the machine. Comfortable in an oversized shirt that lands just at the bottoms of your cotton sleep shorts, goosebump dot across your legs from the cool of the A/C. Your skin still tingles everywhere he touched and the week of radio silence feels worse the second time around. 

The shrill sound of Robin’s phone and the first kernel of popcorn exploding in the bag overpower your ears all at once, making you jump. Mumbling cuss words under the now constant sound of popping, you try to calm your heart rate down, wandering to the living room. Your hand hovers over the phone, the realization about who might be on the other line making your stomach drop. He hadn’t called Robin yet. There’s a moment of hesitation, but you take a deep breath, letting the air expand in your lungs, silently counting to three before you grab the phone off its hook.

”Buckley residen-“

”I need you to come get me, I- I’ve made a huge mistake and I’m just so fuck - “ Robin cuts you off, the rasp in her voice cracking like she’s trying not to cry, “I’m just really embarrassed, please come get me.”

“What happened? Where are you? I’m coming, just - just tell me where you are.” Running to her bedroom to grab your sneakers with the phone pressed to your ear, you can hear her sniffle.

”Benningans, it’s the next town over. I’ll be outside -“

”Are you safe?” You panic, slipping your foot into your shoe as quickly as you can.

”I’m safe, I’m just, I’m embar- I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m safe, I’ll be outside.” She mutters.

”I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?” Feeling a little helpless, you try to ease the hurt that’s evident in her tone with soft reassurance. 

”I’m just, I’m really glad you're here. I’ll see you soon.” She manages to get out before the line clicks dead.

Slipping your second shoe on, the realization that you don’t actually have a car to save her with, hits you like a ton of bricks. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Stomping back to the living room, your eyes find the mustard yellow address book next to the phone’s dock. Your fingers fumble through its pages, eyes squinting as you try to read Robin’s messy writing, searching for a familiar name. You find two:

Eddie and Steve.

You stare at the page, your moral compass going haywire. Despite the way he’s rented a space in your mind, the thought of seeing him alone again makes your stomach twist. Eddie would be simple. Eddie would be easy. Your thumb hovers over the first number in the one she has scribbled down for him, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to press it. She needs Steve.

You groan loudly, stomping your foot for good measure, before letting out a long breath through your nose, dialing his number that you knew you should have all along. 

It only rings twice.

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Steve deadpans.

”Is that really how you answer your phone?” You scoff, doing your best to ignore the butterflies you’ve managed to stifle as they start to come alive at the sound of his voice.

“I thought this was - shit, I thought this was Henderson - erm I mean Dustin, you remember Dustin?” He stammers and you know that hand of his is running through his hair right now.

“Yeah, the middle schooler.”

“Well, he’s like nineteen now -“

“I didn’t call you to talk about Dustin, Steve,” You sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Robin called me really upset from Bennigans, and I don’t have a car or any way to go get her-” 

“I’m on my way.” He cuts you off without any hesitation,“Be outside in five minutes for me?”

”My shoes are already on.”  

After a click, you’re left with the sound of the dial tone in your ear. You hang up the phone as warmth floods your body, easing some of your temporary worries. 

Steve Harrington is making it hard to hate him.

The short walk to Steve’s BMW from Robin’s front door feels like stepping through a time machine.

One that takes you back to late nights sneaking out your bedroom window, always being extra careful not to wake your parents up so you could go make out with your secret kind of boyfriend under the stars. Those were always your favorite nights with him. The nights he’d put away the king Steve armor, those nights he’d just be Steve. A boy who just wanted to make his father proud, thinking maybe he’d stay home more if he was.

You can feel the way his eyes roam your body, the heat of his stare lingering on your exposed legs, setting your skin on fire. Suddenly more than aware of your lack of pants, only part of you regrets not changing into some leggings, but you try not to think about that too hard right now.

He clears his throat when you open the passenger door, the smell of leather and the dark woody sweet scent of oil surrounding you as you slide into your seat. The spice of his cologne tickles your nose when you close yourself in, clicking your seatbelt in place before daring to meet his eyes. The golden brown inside them shimmers with something you’d missed in the orange glow of the street light and the nerves still feel the same way they did five years ago. The only thing that hasn’t changed.

”Thanks for doing this,” you offer with a weak smile.

When he realizes you’ve put your weapons down for the night, his face softens with a crooked grin, subtle pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

”I meant it when I said I can’t say no to you,” he starts, selfishly letting his eyes roam the smooth lines of your face that are finally not twisted up into a glare before realizing his slip up, “and Robin, my best friend obviously.”

”Our best friend, Steve.” You tease trying to ignore the tension that crackles in the empty space between you even worse than before.

”Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he winks, forearm flexing as he puts the car in drive.

Scoffing a ‘whatever’ with a playful roll of your eyes, you let your muscles relax into the familiar seat. The Police’s Every Breath You Take spills through the speakers just loud enough to be heard over the low rumble of the engine, and you become hyper aware of his hand resting on the stick shift, the tips of his fingers just close enough to brush against your thigh every time you hit a bump. 

There’s a silence that falls between you once the street lights run out and his full focus shifts to the pitch black road ahead. The quiet is filled with what almost happened in his room, unspoken words that don’t dare to roll off of sober tongues. You wait until he’s too distracted looking for surprises that might run out from the woods on either side of you to let your eyes wander over and really take him in.

A white drawstring hangs low on his heather gray sweatpants that fit tight over his thighs spread wide. Your throat goes dry at the white tank top that hugs his broad chest, the gold chain that wraps around his neck getting lost in the thick patch of curls on display. You’re finally able to really make out more of his tattoo for the first time, thin, precise lines that look like feathers attached to a set of sparrow wings.

”Did she tell you what happened? I mean, is she safe?” He interrupts your greedy stare, eyes lighting up when he catches you, tucking it away for another time.

”Uhh, yeah,” you answer with a shake of your head, teeth biting down on your bottom lip with hot cheeks, “she’s safe, she kept saying she’s embarrassed but wouldn’t tell me why, just kept begging me to come get her.”

He just hums, lost deep in thought of all the things it could be, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens with worry. 

“We’re only ten minutes away, so it won’t be too much longer now.” 

He reassures you, but it feels like he needs it too, especially when his hand leaves the stick shift to run through his hair that looks more tousled than usual, making you wonder if he was lying in bed before this. A worried breath exhales through his nose, with a tight jaw, and you hate the way your stomach drops when both his hands find the steering wheel after he tugs on his roots a little bit. 

Nervous fingers play with the bottoms of your sleep shorts, trying your best not to stare while you keep your gaze out the passenger window. Stolen glances are followed by tight lipped smiles when you’d always find him staring back. Honey and chestnut make your stomach flutter, and you think maybe some things never change. 

It takes less than the ten minutes that Steve promised for the back roads to turn busy, and bright with the kind of lights a small town on a Saturday night has. A slouched frame sitting on the side of the road catches in his headlights, getting closer you see that Robin’s waves have lost all the bounce she left the house with, along with the rosy tint in her cheeks. The flashing Bennigans sign spins a block behind her, and the orange bulbs match the burning ember on the end of her cigarette that dangles from her full lips. 

“Shit, it’s bad if she’s smoking,” Steve mutters, turning on his hazards as he pulls up next to her, the wheels of his car coming to a stop. 

She hollows her cheeks out, taking one last drag, waving at you to stop unbuckling your seat belt as she gets to her feet. Blowing the smoke from her lungs into the wind, she flicks the half smoked butt into the street before opening the back door, sliding into the leather seats with an exasperated huff.

“Just, don’t – I’m okay,” she starts, closing the door and shutting out the whir of the traffic outside. “Turns out her boyfriend’s best friend really likes Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos too. She really thought me and him might hit it off after our talk at the record store today. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to go home with my two favorite people and feel sorry for myself.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. Turning around in his seat, he flashes her his million-dollar Harrington smile. “I’m the king of feeling sorry for myself.”

Her lips twitch, but when she sees the natural roll of your eyes at the boy next to you, it turns into a full blown smile. A little shimmer came through in the dulled-out color of her eyes.

Got me up all night

            all I’m singing is love songs.

“Honestly, now that I’m thinking about it, this girl sounds like a scammer, Rob. I mean, come on.” Steve snorts, rifling through her cupboards in the kitchen. Tracy Chapman and Tori Amos, what kind of game was she playing at anyway?”

Robin giggles from her place next to you on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder, the green apple of her shampoo still lingering on her curls that tickle your cheek. 

“Plenty of people like those artists, Steve.” She sighs, but you can still hear her smile, “It’s fine, I’ll just stay the lonely Hawkins lesbian for the rest of my life, no big deal.”

”Shut up!”

”Will you stop?!”

You and Steve chide her at the same time, hard eyes meeting from across the living room and softening. He doesn’t even try to stop the lopsided grin that pushes up your favorite cheek and you hope Robin doesn’t feel the way it makes your skin warm. 

“Whatever, I already warned you I’m going to be miserable. Gimmie a break, and you’re actually taking forever in there, by the way.” Whining, she sits up, sending a rush of fruit and leftover tobacco to your nose.

“Yeah, well, I can’t find your peanut butter,” he mutters, opening up the cabinet above the sink, the bottom of his tank top rising enough to see a sliver of sun kissed skin and a few more freckles. Why does it feel like there's always more?

”What are you even making anyway?” you ask, ignoring the way Robin’s head whips around. A smirk spreads wide across her face because you’re actually trying to make conversation with Steve.

“Just a little something that’s going to cure my best friend’s heartbreak,” he winks, the jar of JIF extra crunchy looking extra small in his grasp, twisting the cap off. “We came up with it together, actually.o biggie.”

Your gaze narrows, but he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth twitch, something sparkling inside the dark gold in his eyes.

”Interesting, considering I ran to the store earlier to grab my best friend’s favorite ice cream, just in case.” You counter, something mischievous twisting up your lips. “You didn’t even think to stop and get it on our way home. Some friend.”

Robin’s smile lights up the room, very obviously enjoying the show, maybe even a little too much. Clapping her hands together, she lets out a content sigh before leaning back into the couch cushions.

”I really could get used to this,” she beams, “maybe we should have a contest, see which one of you can do the nicest things for me.”

You can’t stop the snort or the roll of your eyes that has Steve throwing his head back in a fully-bellied laugh, giving you the perfect view of his neck, and only Robin clocks the way your giggles are cut short and the secret way your eyes glaze over.

”I’m not gonna lie as much as I love crunchy peanut butter banana s’mores, I have to say Steve, the fact that she actually called you makes her the winner for the night.” She smirks, chuckling harder when you shove her with a hushed ‘Robin!’

His smile doesn’t fade as he starts to cut banana slices. Big eyes meet yours with the kind of look that threatens to melt you into the couch.

”That’s alright, I’ll be a gracious loser tonight, but just know, honey, I’m very competitive.” He warns, long fingers spreading the fruit evenly throughout the peanut butter that messily coats graham crackers.  

“I don’t like to lose, so it’s fine.” Your quick reply deepens the smile lines in his cheeks, putting the finishing touches on your snacks.

“Yeah, this is definitely the life I was meant to live,” Robin gloats, nudging you, “I’m the prize, right?”

It’s your turn to throw your head back in the kind of laugh that rattles in your rib cage, too distracted to see the lovesick way Steve bites his bottom lip watching you from across the room.

But Robin does.

With a heart so full it might burst, tears threaten to spill from the ocean in her eyes, daydreaming about moments like this, only ever thinking they would be something that stayed trapped in the confines of her mind. The warming feeling of happiness wraps around Robin like a blanket when she gets to sit between you both on the couch. A distant friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, a secret she’s kept mostly to herself. 

With a messy plate of half eaten treats and sticky fingers, she’s content watching Cher and Nicholas Cage fight over how much they love each other. Fully knowing that Steve is sneaking looks at you from over her head, smiling to herself at the nervous way you fiddle with your hands in your lap because of it.

Robin doesn’t fight the exhaustion that starts to make her eyelids heavy just a little halfway through the movie. It’s easy to give in when your body weight relaxes deeper into her side, and how Steve drapes his arm over the back of the couch, tucking you both into his chest with evening breaths.

You’re warm, cozier than normal, and it surrounds every part of you.

Cheek pressed against something that’s not firm enough to be the couch, you nuzzle yourself deeper, chasing the heat and the sleep that’s threatening to evade you. Your cushion starts to move, making eyes shift behind lids that aren’t ready to open yet. Lashes flutter, feeling the way your leg is slotted between someone else’s, and the warmth of a palm finds the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A deep sigh rumbles in your ear before fingertips lazily trace up and down the dip of your spine. Stubble tickles your forehead, and as coherency starts to come back to you, a softer patch of hair rubs against your cheek. The kind of spice and lingering sunshine that could only come from one person hits your senses, and the white cotton of Steve’s tank top finally becomes visible. 

The shift in your breathing brings his soft touches to a halt, the muscles you’re pressed on your side against stiffening. Realizing your hands are sprawled across his chest, just under your chin, you can feel the way his heart races under your palm. He’s everywhere, and despite the way you’ve told yourself you hate him, your fingers curl into the cotton of his shirt because it feels like home. Toes pressing into his calf, you wind your leg around his tighter, and it turns timid fingertips sure of themselves, tracing patterns between your shoulder blades. You don’t dare look up at him yet, or it would make the way your own hand starts to explore his abs that twitch under your red nails real. 

He feels different than you remember, there's more of him now, harder in spots that used to be soft. Your fingers get greedy, the blunt ends of your nails scratching along the outline of his happy trail, earning a low groan from him that vibrates deep in your core. Those butterflies that have made a permanent home out of you start to stretch their wings, and when they feel the soft velvet of his lips against your forehead, they tickle at your ribcage and kick up your heart rate. You wonder if he can feel it.

It’s the faintest kiss, one that you’re not sure you would’ve even felt if you were asleep, but it makes you lean in closer. Inhaling deeply, tears sting at the corner of your eyes when the familiar scent only makes you crave him more. After years spent denying the existence of his touch from your memory, it’s almost overwhelming to feel it again. 

The muscles in his arm underneath your neck twitch, and the fingers that have been drawing lazy circles on your back move slowly up your shoulder. The backs of them run down your arm before they finally connect with your skin, goosebumps exploding underneath his touch in a ball of electricity that you can feel on the pads of them that start a new path up the loose sleeve of your shirt.

You fiddle with the bottom hem of his tank top, the heat of his body radiating against already flushed skin. Brave fingers dare to dip underneath only to get stopped by a large palm wrapping around your wrist 

“Baby,” there's a hint of a smile and a little bit of grogginess in his voice that gives away that he hasn’t been awake that much longer than you, “I think you should at least look at me before I let you get under my shirt.”

Biting at your bottom lip, you push yourself deeper into his chest, embarrassed, feeling the gentle shake of his body when he laughs. 

“Come on pretty, let me see your face.”

His affection makes your heart swell, and you know what it means if you look him in the eyes. Your nails dig into the cotton, tugging at the fabric a little while you pull yourself together, lashes fluttering against your cheeks, shaking the rest of the sleep. Lifting your head up from its hiding place, you cross the line you promised yourself you wouldn’t, but when you meet the green that shimmers in the darkness of his eyes, and the crooked grin that twists up his full pink lips, it feels good to give in.

Releasing the hold on your wrist, he’s gentle, almost hesitant, when his warm palm cups your cheek. The rough pad of his thumb traces the line of your cheekbone feather light, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. No more armor, fleeting glances, or stolen looks, not when he’s this close and even more handsome in the glow of the moonlight. 

“Beautiful.” He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, and your legs somehow wrap around his tighter.

”Yeah?” you whisper, your fingers coming up to the play with the gold chain dangling from his neck. “Why didn’t you kiss me then?”

”What?”

”Last week,” 

”That wasn’t the right time,” he sighs, eyes tracing every line of your face like he’s committing it to memory, “It would have ruined it.”

“Ruined what?” You press, twisting the metal between your fingertips, heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“My chance at trying to do this the right way, the way you deserve.” He doesn’t hesitate to say it, like it’s something he’s thought about for years, and it makes your head spin.

“What about now?” 

��That depends,” he hums, the pad of his thumb dragging across the slight pout of your bottom lip, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.

”On?” Your voice comes out just above a whisper. Tilting your chin up, you can still smell the peanut butter on his breath.

”If you want me to.”  He breathes, the tip of his nose running along the length of yours. 

Your hold on his gold chain tightens, pulling him even closer. His eyebrows pinch together when he feels the slightest brush of your lips against his, and he can still taste the sweetness of the banana.

”Please tell me you want me to.” 

The desperation in his voice is enough for you to tug him down, closing what’s left of the small gap, your top lip catching against his full bottom one. Just enough to feel the familiar silk that could leave a wildfire in their wake before you finally speak.

“Kiss me, Steve.”

A groan rattles deep in his chest, and he doesn’t hesitate to do what he’s wanted to since he saw you. Applying just enough pressure to wake up every last butterfly, the tip of his nose pushes into your cheek when he slots his lips with yours. It’s soft at first like he’s testing the waters, taking it slow so he can savor it, just in case you never let him do it again.

He pulls away enough to look at you, chestnut eyes blown out wide, and you hate that you already miss his kiss. Giving into everything you’ve fought for so long, it’s your turn to capture his lips. It stuns him at first, but when you open your mouth, his body melts easily into yours, and that big hand of his moves from your cheek to hold the back of your neck. Tongue swiping boldly across your lower lip, he begs you to let him in.

Moans get hidden, muffled inside each other's mouths after you grant him access, your fingers tangle themselves inside the thick forest of his hair that’s still just as soft as you remember. Nipping at his bottom lip, the grip on the back of your neck tightens and you can feel the way he kicks up in his sweats because of it. Your own thighs threatening close when you’re reminded of what’s between his legs.

“Baby,” he warns in between kisses, feeling the roll of your hips, but you don’t miss the subtle way he tries to meet them with his own.

It’s too easy to get lost in him, and the years it took to move past him make even more sense when your tongue finds his again. Fighting for dominance, you try not to think about the irreversible damage tonight might do to you as you tug at his roots, teeth scraping together, the kiss turns more heated by the second. Years of anger and longing come out in desperate touches. His hand finds its way to your hip, the pads of his fingers brushing against the skin under your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine, letting you roll them one, two, three times before tightening his hold.

He pulls you closer, letting you win before his nose nudges against your cheek, his lips finding the corner of your mouth. Catching his breath, he trails them along your jaw before making his way down your neck. Your chest heaves, fingers turning soft and slowly running through his hair. He hums against your skin, his hand staying under your shirt, the warmth of his palm covering the small of your back, leaving wet kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear.

”Let me take you on a date,” he whispers, leaving one more under his jaw before pulling back to look at you.

”Steve -“

”Just one,” he begs, bumping his nose with yours, smirking when it makes you smile.

”Let me sleep on it,” you sigh, ducking your head under his chin to hide. Too many thoughts trying to occupy space in your mind with a head still dizzy from his lips.

”I’ll take what I can get,” he laughs, the tips of his fingers starting up the familiar patterns that started all of this, quickly make your eyelids heavy, nuzzling deeper into his chest. You weren’t ready to think about tomorrow yet.

🌻 chapter four

[alisdarkwrites]

Thinking about misogynistic yan Gojo and Geto…

Tws: noncon, misogyny, name calling

Reader is also implied to be chubby

Like just hear me out

Their players and see women as less. Even though their the strongest they see women as much less than men. It’s worse if the girl is chubby.

Their ranking goes

Them

Men

Women

Chubby women

It’s terrible. What makes it worse is the fact that they’ve fucked 100s of women. They see them all as sluts! They think of you that way at first too… they thought you were one of those squishy sluts.. to them that almost made it worse. Almost. But you were the only pretty girl they hadn’t fucked yet. So they would have to deal with it

Only to learn that your a pathetic virgin. At first they didn’t believe you.

“You can’t be pretty and a virgin! Do you think we’re stupid! We know your a slut!”

Gojo says while ontop of you. Getos behind you, tearing your clothes off while you beg him to stop. Trying your best to push him away.

You don’t even know how you got into this. One minute you were walking home. The next they were following you. Next thing you knew they shoved past your door and forced themselves in. And now you were here. On you bed being held down. Trying to stop them from taking your virginity.

“Please stop! Please! I’m begging you guys! Please I barely know you!” You pleaded

“Oh you’ll be fine! You came be a virgin forever you know?” Gojo said. He sounded condescending. Almost like he was mocking you.

“Please! This isn’t how I want my virginity taken!”

“ ‘this isn’t how I want my virginity taken’ just shit up already! Your a woman your designed to pleasure men like us!”

After gojo forced himself into you sighed.

“It’s been sooo long since I got to fuck a virgin you know? All the pretty girls around here are sluts. And the only virgins are ugly as hell.. I’m lucky to have found you, you know?”

You didn’t register anything he was saying. You were just sobbing. Begging in to stop. Begging him to get away from you.

“Awh, what wrong? Does the little virgin not like it? Oh wait, I forgot! You aren’t a virgin anymore!” Saying that made him and Geto laugh. It wasn’t funny. It would never be funny.

“Geto please make him stop! Please!”

He ignored you.

He fucking ignored you.

You were crying and

He

Fucking

Ignored

You.

You wouldn’t stop crying so as punishment Geto shoved 2 fingers in you mouth.

“Women are meant to feel pain during sex. It’s only meant to feel good for the man, not the woman. It’s your job to service us.” Geto said.

Geto then started choking you out of the blue. “Are you going to service us like your supposed to? Or are you going to keep ruing it by crying?”

“Pl-please! It hur-hurt!”

They didn’t stop until you passed out. They kept berating you the entire time too. Telling you this was your ‘job’

When you woke up the next morning they were waiting for you. They had some pancake and syrup for you.

They said it was for doing “such a good job” last night.

❤︎︎

[bluerosefox]

Our Well Deserved Break

Its

Shenanigans (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Time again!~

-x-x-

Danny, our boy the Ghost King, looking over a small team going over relic's given or 'offered' to Pariah Dark over the years both before and after he was sealed away. As they're taking inventory of the chaotic offering room, they stumble across a certain artifact.

This artifact is able to summon a set number of people (it does have its limits) of the users wishes to them and it sets up a barrier around the surrounding place so no one summoned gets out. You know, those kinds of artifact's certain people use to summon heroes and or villains into a room and have them fight to see whose the strongest or for a tournament, Yeah that kind of artifact!

Danny, who found the item, takes a look at after being told what it does. Then out of the corner of his eye he spots himself in a mirror in the room and see's his crown floating above his head and feels the full weight of his responsibility since before and after his crowning. Yes he had help with his advisor, despite how cryptid he can be at times, and of his council but still the weight was a bit too much for a teenager like him.

An idea struck his mind when he hears the ticking of a clock behind him. Without saying a word Danny looks back and raises an eyebrow at Clockwork whose staring at him in silence as well. He glances at the item, tilts his head a bit before...

Smiles in only the way CW knows would both be good for Danny and amusing for him. He nods and says "One weekend should be fine. All timelines will be paused for them. I suggest telling your friends to help prepare for your guests. Enjoy and have fun my King."

"YES!" Danny's voice echoing in the offering room made many ghosts in the room jump for a bit.

This was totally going to be fun!

-x-x-

When the following weekend arrived, young and very stressed teen heroes from across the multiverse are suddenly pulled from their worlds and are summoned into the Infinite Realms. Before any of them can panic or start fights a voice rang out above them and when they looked they could see a young teen, with a crown floating above his head, white hair, and glowing green eyes sitting on a throne.

He smiled and said

"Welcome fellow stressed out Heroes and Heroines to Phantom's Keep! I'm King Phantom, recently crowned fifteen year old, and this is the Infinite Realms! The birth and ending of the multiverse afterlife! Now don't worry none of you are dead or anything like that. I summoned you all here for one reason and one reason only..."

Here Danny paused, just to troll a tiny bit, and could see some of the more tense heroes readying up for a fight or at least argue to let them go. He grinned though and then said.

"And thats.... TO HAVE FUN!"

After that he floated out of his throne and with a flourish in the air he waved his hands and his throne room changed with party decor all around. Tables off to the side appeared with food and drinks from well everywhere and anywhere the multiverse, balloons rose from the ground and floated upwards, streamers flew across above to attach themselves to the other sides, the castle lights shifted to a dim and music began playing from somewhere.

Danny grinned brightly down at them and their shocked faces. oh that's funny, thank goodness Tucker is recording this and Jazz is gonna scrapbook this party for him (she plans on making them for all the guests as a party gift later, you know to remember how fun the party was)

"Now all of you are stressed out teen heroes with a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders! Believe me, I know that feeling, been there done that still doing it even now! But! My advisor says this will be both fun for me and good for you guys to spend one whole weekend here to de-stress and have fun! I do have some ground rules though. One your timelines are in fact PAUSED, you don't have to worry about calling your parents or if you got mentors to let them know where you are at. Two you are all heroes here, many of you are from different worlds and if you are from the same world they already know or CAN be trusted with your real identities but you are NOT required to remove any masks or de-transform or anything like that, if you wish there are masks on that green table over there you can stick on if you want to keep your identities hidden and are spelled to stay on and fuzz the minds of anyone trying to remember your looks once its on, even if they catch a good look at you right now it'll fuzz their memories of you once the mask is on and even after the party don't worry we thought of the time. Three, boys and girls rooms will be at different wings within the Keep! Just ask any of the maid or butler ghosts that will be joining us shortly and they will guide you to the rooms! Fourthly! There are sparing rooms if you wanna test your strengths with others, I only ask please don't get too carried away. We are here to have fun not make enemies! and lastly PLEASE DO NOT try to leave the castle, we are in the very afterlife of the multiverse people, its like the ocean and even I find it hard to navigate it sometimes. Portals can open up to any and all worlds, different timelines, etc etc. I have key items here in the castle that can pinpoint YOUR timeline and world so when the party is over I can send you home no problem, so again please do not attempt to leave."

Danny paused to take a breath, okay ground rules set up and warnings given. He could see the absolute bewildered looks on all the heroes faces and held back a laugh. He smiled however when one of the teens, mask on his face already and dressed in green, yellow, and red asked 'Why?'

"Why? Well... I think its time us teens get to have some fun without worrying about the next big bad or world ending event. Even if just for a weekend, we do deserve a break. So... Lets have some fun for once!" Danny responded.

[lucysarah-c]

There seems to be a bit of debate within the fandom about whether Isayama stated that Erwin is handsome while Levi isn't, or if Erwin was based on Captain America, and so on.

What I'll offer you is my personal take on the matter, as someone who not only happens to be a woman but also, sadly, a woman who likes men (lol) but also as someone with plenty of friends who share that preference.

Let me preface this by saying that I don't intend for this post to be seen as definitive proof or canon, derived from specific panels or interviews. No, this is simply my humble opinion, based on one thing: my perspective as a woman.

Now, if Isayama believes that Erwin resembles Captain America due to his care for his appearance, and thus is deemed more conventionally attractive, that's fine. But let's remember, Isayama is a MAN. When has a man ever accurately grasped what women truly find appealing?

Sure, Erwin may be tall, handsome, and blond. I'll admit, I even find Erwin attractive. But do you know any girls who go wild over that? No, girls aren't going to Marvel movies for Thor or Captain America (well, maybe some are). They're there for Loki, the Winter Soldier. Men seem to think girls thrist over Captain America's abs, when in reality, I've witnessed more girls giggling over Bambi's dad and his deep voice. Girls don't fantasize about Captain America; they're watching Peaky Blinders or Pride and Prejudice, yearning for a Tommy Shelby to size them up, cigarette and whiskey in hand, with that Birmingham accent asking, "Are you a whore? If not, you're in the wrong place." We want Daemon Targaryen beheading someone who dared insult us.

In my own fanfic, I don't deny that characters like Mike, Erwin, Reiner, Zeke, and all the "conventionally attractive guys" are attractive. But Levi? He's known as the strongest thug in the underground, yet he's also the man who rescued a young girl lost in the streets. In a den of violence and depravity, Levi was both tough and compassionate. I'd wager Levi had the bitches making lines.

The perfect example of this is Zeke admitting he's "not popular with girls." It's like the guy who posts a frustrated TikTok because his gym crush is dating someone edgy. He's the type who wonders, "Why that twig and not me?" Well, sweetheart, because that "edgy" guy is caring and probably knows how to make a woman come better than you. He's so secure in his masculinity that he doesn't need to prove it.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Levi embodies the female gaze because he's what girls want. I'm not claiming this as gospel truth or canon. I'm simply explaining why it seems obvious to me that Levi would still be attractive and desired within the walls—just like how many girls these days prefer Cillian Murphy over Chris Hemsworth.

[pxuvalentinx]

Drunk!Gojo x fem!reader

!des: gojo drank a little too much and woops. you two ended up in his bed.

wc: 4.3k (my longest one on tumblr yet)

a/n: wrote this like ages ago and thought why not post it as a late birthday post LOL. I honestly didn't read over it again, so if it's bad - oops.

“Geez, you really are a lightweight, huh?” You chuckled out as you listened to Gojo’s confused mumbles. He was only a couple of shots in and already lost his ability to form any sentences. It was quite a sight to watch Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of his time, get drunk so easily, babbling nonsense, a bright blush covering most of his face. Shoko just glanced over at you two. “Mm’ shutttt…” He answered in an annoyed tone. His arms were hanging down as he was leaning back into the chair, his head was thrown back while he stared at the ceiling.

You have no idea how you even ended up here, considering that only a few days ago Gojo was practically begging you to come along, because he believed that you were a lightweight as well, so he hoped that he wouldn’t be the only one to get drunk that quickly. Even though he hated alcohol, he was really hitting it off tonight. Bottle after bottle of Sake. At first, you were hesitant, but as soon as he mentioned that Shoko and Nanami would be there too, you couldn’t say no anymore.

Nanami had left about an hour ago now, he was very strict about keeping up his sleep schedule. That’s a fact you could never forget about him, ever since you guys met at Jujutsu High about 10 years ago.

Your eyes flicked from Gojo to Shoko as she poured herself another drink. “Let me have another one too!” You say.

- “Still not drunk?” She replied.

- “A bit tipsy, but that’s about it.”

A laugh escaped her mouth while she poured you a drink. You were more of a Whiskey type, while Gojo preferred Sake, whenever he did decide to drink. Your eyes lingered back to Gojo who was now leaning forward to grab another bottle of Sake. Shoko was quick to react, placing the bottle of Sake out of his reach. Getting a pout out of Gojo.

“Awhhhh,” He whined, “Meanieeee~ Y/nnn~~ Say somethin’~” Your eyes widened as he grabbed onto your arm, slightly pulling it in order to get your attention. His hair was a complete mess, no strand of hair was where it was supposed to be. You thought it was rather adorable how he was holding onto your arm like that. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t have a crush on him, or at least thought about how he’d look on top of you. Even though you had those thoughts, you never had the time to mention them to him or try to make a move, you were way too busy for all of that. You doubted that he’d even care, considering that he probably has all girls chasing after him, whenever he was not in Jujutsu High.

“Think you’ve had enough, ‘Toru.” You replied. Gojo moved closer to you, still holding onto that arm. He was clinging to you like a cat in heat, rubbing slightly against you. Shoko raised one eyebrow at the sight, before finishing her drink, surprising you. You hadn’t even started drinking yours. “I’ll be taking my leave as well, you’ll be fine?” Shoko said as she put her glass down.

- “Yeah. I don’t know when I’ll get to leave yet, gon’ make sure Satoru is asleep before”

- “Okay.” Her hands were reaching around her, trying to find her coat and bag. A quiet ‘Ah’ escaped her mouth when she found them.

- “Get home safe.” You responded, waving goodbye with your free hand. Shoko just gave you a sweet smile before putting on her coat and checking the pockets to make sure she has everything.

“Byeee Iei-” Hiccup, “-ri.” Gojo responded, now letting go of your arm to wave with both of his hands enthusiastically. Shoko waved back, turning around to walk into the hallway. Shortly after, the click of the front door confirmed that she was gone. Your head was now turned to Gojo who was staring into the dark hallway.

“Shall we get you to bed?” You mentioned, grabbing Gojo’s attention. “Don’t want to sleep…yet.” Another Hiccup. Soft whining left his mouth, basically pleading with the puppy eyes. You chuckled at the sight of him, as you took a few sips from your drink. Normally you hated silence, it was a weird uncomfortable feeling, but right now, you were loving it. The sight of Gojo pleading at you to let him stay up a little longer, while you sip on your Whiskey — hoping that enjoying this last drink wouldn’t cause you any problems later.

This wasn’t like Gojo at all, normally he was always super talkative, confident and flirty in the way he talked to girls. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or because of you. The quiet sound of glass hitting wood sounded, as you put your now empty glass on the table. Feeling a little dizzy from the amount of alcohol that you just consumed in such a short amount of time, you decided that it would be best if you went home as well. The only obstacle here was getting Gojo into his bed.

“C’mon now, ‘Toru. You should really sleep, it’s late.” You somewhat repeat. A sigh left Gojo’s mouth, as he unwillingly got up, leaning all of his weight onto you. You tried your hardest to support him, even though you were much smaller than him. Gojo was humming a song while walking with you. You couldn’t guess what song it was, probably just something he had made up in his head. With your free hand, you opened the bedroom door. Gojo swaying left and right next to you, just following you blindly. His eyes were barely open, he could’ve probably fallen asleep while standing. Gojo’s eyes only opened when he felt the bed against him, he hadn’t even realised that you lied him down. “Mhmm… So comfy~” He mumbled while letting his head sink into the pillow. You could finally feel the alcohol from earlier hitting you, dizziness overcoming your head again.

“Sleep well, ‘Toru.” You said while throwing the blanket over him, as you pull it up to his chest you can feel a hand grabbing your wrist. Gojo’s hand. “Hm?” You whisper.

- “Where’s my goodnight kiss?”

- “Good night kiss??!” Your face was now covered in a deep red blush, your legs got weak just at the idea. You weren’t 100% sure if that was what he actually had said, so you decided to wait for confirmation from him. He was drunk, after all, and you didn’t want to take advantage of that. But you could also feel yourself losing more and more control of your mind and actions with each passing second, the Whiskey was starting to get to you.

- “‘M waitin’~” He purred as he pulled on your wrist to get you closer.

Hearing his sweet voice ask that from you got your body burning with heat. You knew if you decided to give in, this night would not end on a ‘Good night kiss’. You knew that if you gave in to this, you’d give in to everything else, every single one of your fantasies, desires, and needs. His gaze was on you, looking you up and down, waiting for your answer. Your eyes met his. Fuck, your eyes met his. The bright blue colour, the dilated pupils, the way he looked at you through his lashes. You knew that he’ll be the death of you someday.

Suddenly you snapped back into reality, remembering his request. Quickly you licked your lips before feeling the nervousness rising in your chest. It wasn’t the first time you had kissed a man, especially not when it comes to those quick kisses. So why? You leaned forward, your face right above his. ‘Just a quick peck on his lips, right?’ You told yourself in your head over and over again, but you couldn’t seem to calm down at all.

One last deep breath, before you leaned down, pressing your lips onto his. You were just about to pull away again and probably die from embarrassment, but only a second later you could feel two big hands cupping your face, pulling you in. His hands were gently squeezing your cheeks as he deepened the kiss. Considering that you weren’t prepared for a kiss longer than a second or two, you ran out of air pretty quick. Gojo wasn’t stupid - no matter how drunk he was, he noticed that you were out of breath and let you pull away, not entirely letting go of your cheeks though. His fingertips were still lingering on your soft skin.

Your lips were only a few inches apart from each other, as you tried to catch your breath you could hear mumbles coming from Gojo.

- “Mm..so soft…more…can’t stop…” He panted, his drunk-tired eyes glancing at your rosy lips.

Before you could realise it, his lips were pressed onto yours again. Instead of the soft kiss you shared before, he decided to be rough with you this time. Still in shock, you decided to just move along, to let him take the lead. Soft pants and groans left Gojo’s mouth. Not pulling away from his lips, you moved the rest of your body onto the bed, you were now on all fours on top of Gojo. His hands wandered from your cheeks down to your waist, tugging at your loose blouse and pulling it up slightly. The soft touch and his cold hands sent shivers down your spine.

In one swift motion, he had you on your back, now underneath him - his lips still on yours. One of his hands was moving up again, pinning your hands above your head, while the other hand remained on your exposed waist. The cool air in Gojo’s bedroom had your body covered in goosebumps. You could feel Gojo’s tongue begging for more at your lips, so without a second thought you granted him access. His tongue immediately started fighting with yours for dominance, the sweet taste of sake mixing with the rather smoky taste of whiskey. The hand that was on your waist slid under your blouse only to feel the soft fabric of your bra, you could hear a quiet chuckle escaping Gojo’s mouth, regardless of your tongues fighting for dominance.

He rested his hand on your bra for a bit, before he pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva connected your mouth with his. Satoru loosened his grip on your pinned up wrists a little, while he unbuttoned your blouse in only a few seconds. His eyes scanned your entire upper body.

- “So.. fuckin’ gorgeous~” He exhaled. You could see the excitement in his eyes. His words sent another shiver down your spine, as your face lit up.

Gojo’s hand finally let go of your wrists, pulling off the blouse before you could even realise it. You lied there like a starfish, not being quite sure where to put your hands or what to do, but Gojo didn’t seem to mind. He was enjoying every second of this, of being able to admire your perfect body, being able to run his hands up and down your body without you saying a word, only sweet whimpers leaving your mouth. Music to his ears. Before even letting you think again, he slid a hand under your back, lifting you with ease. The other hand was undoing your bra. You were surprised by how easily he had undone your bra.

- “Not your first time, huh?” You teased at his actions. A quiet chuckle was his response, you took that as a yes.

He threw your bra into a corner of his room, finding it would be a problem for later. For now, his eyes were focused on your breasts, licking his lips. He removed his hand from your back and let you sink into the bed again. The shy and intoxicated Gojo from earlier seemed to have lost all control over himself as soon as he saw your breasts. A hand immediately started to gently squeeze one of them. His thumb brushing over your nipple, gently rubbing it, in order to get any sounds out of you - which wasn’t necessarily hard, considering that the alcohol from earlier made you even more sensitive than you usually are. You could see a smirk forming on Gojo’s face, while he listened to your quiet whimpers. The spot between your legs was starting to get soaked, only from Gojo touching you so delicately. His other hand started to take care of your other breast, now simultaneously fondling both of them. Biting down on your lip, you tried to suppress any moans. Your eyes that were just roaming around the room, now met Gojo’s face. His eyes were focused on your tits, the way they perfectly fit into his hands, the way your skin felt against his hands. His ears were listening to the sweet sounds, the bulge in his pants growing bigger. His mouth was slightly opened. You’ve never seen a man be so mesmerised by the sight in front of him.

The puddle in between your legs was soaking the bed sheets at this point. As much as you loved Gojo paying so much attention to your chest, you wanted more. You needed more. You bucked your hips up slightly, trying to get the fabric of your panties to rub against your swollen clit. Not even biting your lip could suppress your moans anymore,

- “Ha?” Gojo didn’t waste any time moving his hand down to your lower stomach, pressing it down to keep you from moving. A whine of frustration escaping you. “Gettin’ impatient? Slut.”

His words sent waves of excitement through your body.

- “Please…’Toru… want you to touch me~” You begged. Giving him the sweetest look you could possibly do.

In a blink of a second, your pants were off, leaving you only with your panties on. Gojo slid back a little, kneeling in between your legs. His eyes immediately shifted from your chest to your drenched panties. One hand wandered down, rubbing two fingers against your clothed pussy. A gasp escaped your mouth as you bucked your hips against his hand. An excited look overcame his face.

- “Want me to touch you there, hm?” His fingers were not stopping, while you bucked your hips at them. A whimper was your response.

He suddenly withdrew his fingers, before ripping your panties off. Your face was burning, your senses being so heightened was driving you crazy. You watched Gojo bring your panties closer to his face, to his nose. He groaned when he practically inhaled the scent of your pussy. “Fuck… I’ll keep them as a souvenir, so I have something whenever you’re not around…” His other hand was cupping his bulge, while he continued to sniff your panties. The sight and his words almost made you finish right there and then.

Your exposed cunt was throbbing at the sight as well, the cool air blowing over it made you gasp. Gojo eventually put the panties down, and shifted all his attention back to you.x His eyes now focused on your cunt, licking his lips. Your eyes were following his every move. He moved down - looking at your cunt.

“Mm… such a pretty pussy~ Gon’ ruin it…” He purred before using his thumb to massage your clit - the sudden touch already driving you crazy, quiet gasps and whimpers leaving your lips. A low chuckle coming from Gojo, enjoying your reaction. The bulge in his pants was screaming for some action as well, but he was ignoring that for now. Before you could realise it, he inserted a finger, making you squirm. You already knew that he had pretty long fingers, but actually feeling them caught you off guard. Not long after, a second finger entered you. They weren’t necessarily thick, but definitely long enough to reach those sweet spots you could only dream of. He was aware of his skinny fingers, so in order to get you ready for him, he spread his fingers inside of you. You screamed at the feeling of getting stretched like that. His scissoring motions were rough, but the pain faded quickly, calming you a little.

His fingers were soaked at this point. Your mouth was wide open, whimpering, gasping, moaning, while Gojo thrusted his fingers in and out of you, occasionally curling them, hitting exactly the spot that made you get weak in the knees, that built up that knot in your abdomen more and more. His eyes kept flicking between your pussy and your face, enjoying both sights just equally as much. Not only did he get enjoyment out of looking at your face and cunt, he also loved the sounds you were making - the sounds your drenched cunt was making as his fingers ruined it. Every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of his face, he looked so pleased while fingering you. It pushed you even closer to the edge.

- “...Ah~ ‘Toru gonna c-” He cut you off by starting to rub your clit again with the thumb on his other hand.

- “Cum for me, Doll.”

That was all you needed to hear to lose all control. Your orgasm hit you hard, Gojo fingered you through it, making you pant and gasp for air. A mischievous grin started to appear on his face. “Good girl.” He said before withdrawing his hands from your cunt. Not letting you catch your breath, his hands grabbed onto your thighs - spreading them even further. His face diving directly into your cunt, sucking and licking up all of your juices. Some satisfied purrs left his lips, sending vibrations through your pussy. The overstimulation was making you whine. His talented tongue was all to keep your jaw dropped, mouth wide open. Looking down at him, you could only see his soft snow-white hair, his face was entirely buried in your pussy. He was eating you out like it was his first meal after days.

Eventually, he pulled away, giving you some time to breathe. His face was a mess, your juices were covering half of it. The dim light in his room was making him look 10 times hotter than usual. Your cunt was throbbing from the orgasm you just experienced. He looked beyond proud.

Gojo’s cock was also throbbing, leaking with precum, ruining his pants and underwear. It was throbbing for you. Your cunt felt so empty, missing the feeling of his digits inside of you — not knowing that the emptiness would get replaced by something way better soon.

While you were still catching your breath, your eyes caught Gojo taking off the sweater he was wearing. All of your attention immediately shifted to him - he knew exactly what he was doing, taking off his sweater so slowly that it was starting to drive you crazy, revealing his fit upper body, flexing his muscles on purpose. You knew very well why girls liked him - why you liked him. The defined abs, the V-line, his muscular arms, the little trail of white hair right above his pants. The last time you had seen him shirtless was on a beach day back when you were still a student in Jujutsu High. His body back then was ridiculous compared to what you were seeing right now. He was watching you from the corner of his eye, smirking to himself.

- “Like the view?”

- “You like yours just as much.”

- “Not wrong.”

The dizziness from earlier never left your mind, your senses never went back to normal again. Quite the opposite actually, it feels like Gojo is just making it worse with every passing second. You were lost in your thoughts, lost at the sight. Something inside of you still hadn’t realised that your fantasies finally came true. Deep inside of you, you were praying that this wasn’t a dream. That you wouldn’t wake in your own bed in a few minutes - which wouldn’t be the first time.

The sound of a zipper brought you back to reality. You weren’t expecting a butt naked Gojo in front of you when you snapped back. Cock fully erect, slightly jumping in excitement, precum dripping out of it. His cock was slightly curved upwards. He used his hand to smear the precum all over his cock, quiet groans already escaping his mouth as he gently stroked it. You could tell he was just as sensitive as you were. Gojo had a tight grip on it, squeezing it with each stroke, his groans getting louder with each stroke. The sight only made the knot in your abdomen build up again. He’d call you pathetic if he knew just how excited that got you. Mumbles, quiet mumbles - ‘fuck’ ‘ah’ ‘ngh~’ ‘mhm..’. His eyes were focused on your body the entire time. One last stroke before he stopped.

He lined up with your cunt, as he rubbed his dick against your folds and clit, slipping the tip in every now and then. Gojo was looking for certain reactions from you, and you did not disappoint him. Quiet screams leaving your lips at the slight stretch of his tip slipping inside.

- “Tell me how badly you want it, sweetheart.” Gojo purred.

Forming a simple sentence has never been this hard in your entire life. Never ever have you struggled so hard to just make other sounds than whimpers. He was an asshole, asking you to beg and then rubbing his dick against your clit even more.

- “...I- fuck~”

- “C’mon… Use those big girl words…”

- “...’Toru please~ I want your- ah~ dick so badly…”

FUCKHe slammed into you, stretching out every inch of your tight cunt. Your back arched immediately, as you pressed the back of your head further into the pillow. You dug your fingernails into the bedsheets. To your surprise, the shock only made you gulp loudly. Gojo gasped when he felt his tip kiss your cervix, only now realising that he had buried himself balls deep inside of you. His hands wandered to your hips, not only to keep you in place, but also to make sure to pull you as far as possible onto his dick. The fingers he had inside of you just a few minutes ago were nothing compared to the girth of his dick. They were nothing compared to the way he made you feel like when he thrusted so roughly yet so lovingly into you. The way his tip gave a little smooch to your cervix with every thrust. The pain that kept on mixing with pleasure was making you go stupid, making you lose every coherent thought in your brain.

slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap.At this point you were choking on your own saliva, panting so heavily.

slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap. slap.Gojo had this devilish grin on his face as he fucked you stupid, as he fucked you into the point where you wouldn’t even realize your own orgasms anymore. You had no idea how long it has been since a man has fucked you so sincerely, or if it has ever been this intense. Oh how glad you were that you agreed to joining the little drinking ‘party’ tonight. His two hands that were still holding your hips, were no longer just firmly gripping them, he was roughly squeezing them - geez, this would leave marks later.

His thrusts were starting to stutter.

- “Oh fuck…stop…squeezing me…mhm~” The way your walls were clenching around him made him lose the confidence in his thrusts.

Sloppy but still rough thrusts were the aftermath. Sweat was covering his chest and neck, his breathing was getting heavier with each passing second. You couldn’t remember how many orgasms you were in by now - but you could feel the next one building up already. Not only yours, but Gojo’s first for the night.

Gojo suddenly lifted your legs and threw each over his shoulders, hitting a completely different angle from the position switch. Making you gasp out loud. This position was making you see stars, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. A low chuckle escaped Gojo’s mouth at your reaction. He was quite aware of the spot you liked by now. So in order to make you finish with him, he hit it over and over and over again. Making you whine, tears of pleasure starting to run down your cheeks at the overstimulation. Oh, and how the tears turned him on. How this entire sight just made him grow harder with each moment, how it made his dick throb so terribly. How he could finish at any moment looking at this, and how he will pull you with him.

It was starting to get impossible to ignore the knot in your abdomen, only a little more and you’d-

splash

Without any warning you could feel Gojo filling you up, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips. It pushed you over the edge so nicely. The legs that were thrown over his shoulders were shaking by now. As you looked at Gojo, you could only see him panting and almost whimpering. Sweat was running down his forehead. A lovely sight to see regardless.

As he pulled out of you, his eyes watched his seed flow out of your pussy so slowly. “Oh shit~” He hissed.

You chuckled quietly, also catching your breath. His eyes shifted to you, grinning like the asshole he is. You really would’ve liked a warning, but it’s too late for that now anyway. He let your legs down back onto the bed and then leaned forward to press a tender kiss on your lips.

Too exhausted to fight back or even talk about what just happened, you just let it happen. But in the end, what would you even be complaining about?

Guess the alcohol did you justice tonight.

 ©pxuvalentinx - do not steal, modify, translate or repost my work.

[twinkwish]

Too Cocky

“See you tonight, Jacob?” Brad asked his friend in the locker room, about to leave after practice.

“For sure, bro. I just gotta shower real quick and I’ll be there.” After their big win, the team had planned to celebrate with a bar crawl.

“Awesome, don't take too long, bro!” joked Brad. 

Jacob was always the last person in the locker room after games. He was the star of the team—talented, big, handsome—which meant he was highly complimented. Jacob loved nothing more than to walk around the locker room to the adoration of his teammates, flexing and showing off his godlike stature to earn their praise and remarks. 

With Brad out the door, Jacob finally went to take his shower. He stopped in front of the mirrors in front of the sinks lining the outside wall and began to put on a show for himself—he rarely passed up such an opportunity.

“Yeah, man. I always get such a good pump after a game,” he said to himself as he lifted his arms into a double bicep pose. He certainly had a body to be proud of. At 6’3” and 215 pounds of solid muscle, he was one of the biggest on the team. And with long blond hair and a chiseled jaw line, he was looker for sure. “Imagine what that team would be without me.”

After posing a bit longer, he walked over to the showers and undressed. He turned on the water and looked down at his beautiful cock. “Yeah, I’m definitely the biggest on the team.”

“Maybe,” commented a voice from behind.

“What the fuck!? Who’s there!?” cried Jacob, swinging himself around. 

“No one important. Just an admirer,” responded Brad.

“Oh, hey man. You freaked me out there. I thought you left.”

“I did, but I forgot my bag. When I came back, I heard you in here and thought I would see what you were up to. You put on a good show, stud.”

“You liked that, bro. You like seeing this?” he gestured to himself. “I wouldn't have pegged you for a fairy. I mean, I guess I don’t blame you.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for one,” said Brad with a sly smile.

At that moment, Jacob began to look at Brad in a way he hadn't before. Brad was also pretty built, standing around 6’1” on a muscular frame of around 190 pounds with a big powerful chest. Jacob gulped.

“I think I’ll join you,” added Brad. “I was going to shower at home, but might as well do it here.”

Jacob remained frozen as he stared at Brad’s tree trunk legs sliding out of his pants. He nearly drooled when Brad’s biceps squeezed as he slowly removed his tight t-shirt.

“Woah, dude,” he said finally. “You’re lookin’ swole.” He was surprised at himself. It wasn’t like him to compliment others.

“Oh yeah?” Brad answered, bouncing his pecs slightly. “I have been doing some extra training with coach.”

“It’s been payin’ off, bro. Your pecs are huge.” Again, he was surprised. His mouth hung open as his eyes hungrily studied Brad’s godlike torso. Is dick twitched a bit.

“Feel them.”

And with that, Jacob rushed eagerly over to Brad and began to submissively worship his chest, in complete admiration of the size—the power. “What is happening?” he thought to himself. “My chest bigger. I am the strongest guy on the team.” But he strangely didn’t believe that. 

Smiling that sly smile, Brad responded by flexing. Breathing deeply, he taunted, “That’s right, bitch. You just can’t get enough of me. You wish you could look like this, to feel as big and powerful as me.”

At that moment, Jakob became aware of a strange sensation. It was as if he was shrinking. He looked up at Brad, who looked taller and taller in comparison as Jakeb shrank down to 5’7”. He stepped back for a moment to see his once bulging biceps contracting. His defined, prominent chest lowered and nearly flattened out. His formerly thick thighs became much more lithe as his ass began to expand with a mixture of fat and muscle. Simultaneously, his mind was drained of all knowledge of sports and chicks while an intense focus and obsession with the hunk before him replaced it. After only a second, Jake practically leapt back towards the muscle jock, burying his head in Brad’s armpit while the jock moaned.

Brad was going through his own transformation. His joints cracked slightly as he grew a few inches taller and his feet expanded into giant size 15s. His already beefy muscles expanded even more, veins popping out of his arms as he hit a double bicep pose. “Fuck yeah, you little fairy,” Brad moaned through heavy breaths and deep grunts. “Worship a real man.”

With that, Brad pushed the twink to his knees.  Jake, excited and eager, began to suck Brad’s growing cock. 

“Take it all, slut!” he roared in a deep voice, his giant hand gripping the top of Jake’s platinum blond head while his 8” python grew in his mouth. With his other hand, Brad felt his new engorged muscles, running his fingers up his chiseled abs before groping his pecs.. “MmmmMmmM.”

Jake could only moan slightly as his mind focused on Brad’s amazing dick. The twink’s now thick, seductive lips smacked and sucked as his tongue worked its magic. His mind was filled with images of pleasuring men. Being used as a vessel, a little fucktoy. As he deep throated the expanding rod, the muscle god’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy. 

“Shit!” Brad yelled. He began to grunt, bucking his pelvis as his load exploded into the face of the submissive twink, who swallowed it in turn.

“Yaaassss, Brad!” Jake squealed in his newly high voice as he pulled away from the muscle god’s pelvis. “That was, like, so hot.”

“Huh,” he laughed. “What did you expect? That’s what you get from a body like this.”

“Mmm. Love it, stud. Hehehe. Come on, big boy. Let’s, like, go out to the bars. You can, like, use me to make the rest of the team, like, jealous.”

“We’ll catch up with them later. First I have plans for you at home,” Brad responded as he grabbed Jake’s juicy bubble butt.

They both liked the sound of those plans.

[aothotties]

How they help you get over someone

| Eren | Armin | Reiner | Jean|

Word count: 1016

Warnings: Levi is in his 30s, car sex, mating press, pet names (mama), squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

“But i just feel so dumb, im literally so stupid” you huffed to your gym buddy, Levi as you spotted him.

He finished his set then sat up and turned towards you 

“Y/N, you're so young. You're going to make mistakes plus you're a girl. No ones mad at you for believing what he said to you and having sex with him” he said plainly 

You always vented to Levi when you were upset and he always found a way to give you great advice and help you through everything. Him being older made it easier to trust him because you felt like he was grown grown and had it all together

“I'm mad at myself. I feel like I'm too old to still fall for the same bullshit I fell for in highschool. Were you like me at my age?” you stated as tears threatened to spill from your eyes

“ I was worse” , he responded, “don't feel bad about it. Its a normal thing for you to be upset that he fucked you then never spoke to you again, youre not the problem. Any woman, no matter what age, would be upset about that. I mean there's some succubuses out there that just smash everyone and don't feel a thing, but most women aren't like that”

You couldn't lie, levi always reassured you and made you feel better about making regular human choices and never allowed you to beat yourself up for making mistakes

You both finished your workout and left the gym. He walked out next to you and made sure you were safe in the parking lot because it was late at night. You stopped at the car and he pulled you into a hug

“You'll be alright, mama. Don't be so hard on yourself” he said and you buried your face in his chest and began to cry 

Even though his words made you feel better you were still sad. He rubbed your back and let you get it all out and refused to let go until you finished crying

You pulled away and wiped your tears on your shirt

“Thank you, i really appreciate you, Levi” you said to him once you composed yourself

“Dont worry about it, i'm always here if you need me” he responded.

You stared up at him completely enamored. You had the strongest feelings for him and had them for a while. You tried sleeping with that other guy thinking it would help you get over him but it clearly didn't work. You just ended up sad and crying in his arms which strengthened your feelings. You were convinced Levi didn't feel the same and you were too sacred to say anything in fear that it would ruin the friendship you have

“Aye aren't you glad you asked me to be your gym partner”, he said trying to change the subject

“yeah , i guess” you laughed as you responded 

“You guess? You know you wanted to be like me, that's why you approached me and asked for my help” he nudged you a little bit as he teased 

“That definitely not the reason i approached you but yeah let's go with that” you told on yourself before you even had the chance to realize it

He looked down at you and smirked as he nodded, “ yeah i know”

He confirmed in that moment that he knew exactly how you felt about him and apparently he felt the same because he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you towards his car

Levi drove a nice white tesla and you had been dying to see the inside 

He had you in the back seat folded completely in half as he pressed his weight onto you 

His dick was reaching so far inside you that your mind went blank. All you could do was moan his name while he fucked you at a steady pace.

Sweat rolled down his abs as he was sliding in and out of your dripping wet pussy. He was mesmerized by the way you were sucking him in. He was also taken aback at how good your body looked folded under him.

Sometimes at the gym he would make slick comments about your ass but you never realized it was his way of telling you he felt the same.

“Fuck Levi, r-right there. Im gonna cum baby” you whined as you grabbed his biceps 

His pace didn't change and he continued to fuck you all the way to your peak

“Mmhmm mama, cum for me” he said as he watched your face contort in pleasure

Your high flooded over you and you came hard all over his thick cock. You felt bad that you squirted on his perfectly clean seats but he couldn't care less. He wanted to see you cum for him over and over again and didn't care about what happened to his car.

He never let up and kept going until you came for him multiple times. Each time you came a mantra of praises left his lips. 

His pace became more erratic as he came close to his climax. You could feel his dick throbbing inside you as he was about to cum

“ gonna cum inside you mama, f-fill you up real good” he stated between deep grunts

He slammed into you hard one last time then you felt as his hot thick cum spilled inside you. He slid out and watched as it pooled out of you but he quickly pushed it back in with his fingers.

You both threw your clothes on and you stepped out of his car and wobbled as you tried to stand up straight. He laughed at you and shook his head. He put his arm around you and walked you to your car 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss on your forehead 

“Best cardio i've ever done” he stated as he opened the door for you 

You hopped in your car and deleted the other guy's number knowing damn well he did not match up to Levi in any way.

[moonshynecybin]

Hey! Just wanted to say I’m in awe of how your writing it’s just so GOOD and FUN and TORUROUS. It’s rly hard to nail the voices and dialogue of characters (especially when writing them speaking in english!) but you always make it so believable. Ur Vale especially is sooo charismatic which like hats off bc a more mercurial man has not been made. 

Re ur charged-airport-conversation fic, I’m intrigued to find out how Marc will handle his sexuality crisis. Will he be in denial? does he very seriously study gay culture like telemetry data? is he getting Grindr? is he seeing it as something to incorporate into his PT routine & somehow translate this to a competitive edge? how did he feel about the pope saying frociaggine????

Also I loved the goofy brother shenanigans, Alex strongest most patient and silliest man alive truly. Extremely funny to think of Alex “please get a girlfriend you’re 30 and annoying me” Marquez having to cope with Marc coming back like “I found one! :3” holding hands with Cervera’s enemy #1 undisputed champ 2015-2024

Anyways, would love to hear any thoughts u had but no pressure! I just wanted to thank u for ur brilliant mind & forget about whatever fresh hell that sprint was 

this one. is one that i plan to maybe actually and fr write out so i shant answer in full because i hope that you'll find out eventually. um. i CAN give you chapter two! of THIS fic where Marc and Vale get stuck in an airport and have a somewhat fraught little bonding session. i have not proofread this OR reread the original so if there's inconsistencies just chill out. theres also a lot of liberties taken with the amount of privacy these guys have on a given race weekend again just chill out. please. they live in different countries and are bitter rivals its hard to get them alone into fictional scenarios. its about 1.4k.

(Part ONE !)

The next time he sees Vale is in the paddock.

It's not unusual to see him— the paddock is small and Vale is always a presence, felt even when he’s gone, indelible—but it’s on the television more often than not these days. Maybe a glimpse of him zooming around on his scooter, ignoring the swing of the camera phones tracking him in his wake. But it’s not like this, never this close up. Vale maintains distance, and Marc has adapted to take his cues from that same distance. He’s not going to be the first to engage, not anymore. 

All that being said, Marc is trying to grab some alone time in between sessions, communing with his lunch and contemplating ways to improve his breaking into Turn 11. He’s tucked into a shady place out of the way, generally out of the range of any stray cameras, when Vale catches him, sliding next to him on the table and leaning forwards on his elbows.

He starts picking at Marc’s food.

Marc reacts reflexively, not even processing that it's Vale who’s at his elbow who is reaching over to snag a bit of his chicken. He lifts his bowl out of reach like he would with Alex. “Hey— that's mine,”

Vale’s game, apparently, shooting him one of those dangerous grins, eyes crinkling at the sides towards Marc like he hasn’t seen in years. He’s brimming with the confidence of someone used to getting away with breaking rules. Marc puts down his food. Lifts a hand, adjusts the cap at the top of his head, and tucks his hair behind his ear. 

This means something. He doesn’t know what.

“Allora, you were not eating it.”

And Marc has always been easy for it—the simple skill he has in spinning a situation into the brightest version of itself, mood turning on a dime. Even when he was destroying Marc, he would do it with a smile. 

It’s that same silverbright thread that makes Marc laugh, disbelieving, a shock of delight. He shoves at the edge of Vale’s arm, jockeying with his elbow. He bites his lip, shakes his head. Would you look at that?

“Presumptuous,” Marc scolds, and tucks back into his lunch, forking another bite into his mouth. Vale grins and leans closer, conspiratorial. That same hot, embarrassed feeling from the airport rears its head, giddy. Marc glances around. There’s no one here. He feels like there is. LIke there’s eyes on them, even though he’d chosen a place where there shouldn't be.

It feels like crossing a line, teetering on the edge of some cliff, one toe over the edge. Hot and anticipatory in the pit of his stomach. There’s a breeze going, and he shivers. Vale leans closer.

He likes it. 

He also knows that he shouldn't like it. He’s gone through this song and dance before. This feeling, this hero worship that he has with Vale never leads him down any good road. He thought– six premier class titles and nearly ten years of vitriol had been an effective cure. Not so, he’s finding out.

Vale corrects, “I see what I see. This I cannot help.”

“Oh yeah? You’ve been watching me?

Vale shrugs, steals another bite. “You do manage to put on a good, ah, show.” He finds the words in Spanish. Marc can’t remember the last time they spoke in Spanish.

Marc takes a breath in. Settles himself. He doesn’t know what the end goal is here. Curiosity wins out— it’s better than wondering why Vale’s here in the first place. What game he’s trying to play. What he thinks he’ll get out of being nice to Marc, aside from that shivery feeling clawing its way up the base of his spine. He should really at least find out if he’s doing this because he plans on not being nice to Marc. 

“How did you find me?” Is what he goes with. Neutral enough. 

“You are not hard to find.” The answer is vague, but frank. Vale loves to speak around things.

Marc raises an eyebrow, decides to just keep looking at him. They both know he’s bullshitting. Vale breaks, and makes a face, shrugging.

“I have been racing here longer than you. I know the hiding spots.”

Marc gives him a minute roll of the eyes. It's still not an answer. “You know, they remodeled not too long ago. The entire layout changed.” Vale would’ve had to work to find him. 

“Not too much!” Vale spreads his palms cheerfully, seizing on a diversion. “The bones are still the same. The stands are over there,” he juts a thumb, “The pits are here. The bathrooms change, but bah. It’s a facelift.”

Marc wrangles down a smile. Vale’s not being serious— he’s being fun. Maybe he’s trying to get him comfortable for some reason. “A lot changes, I think.” He says frankly, and he means it. 

Vale’s eyes flash. He sees Marc’s conviction, catches the double meaning. Another one of their conversations centering around two different issues on the surface, but coming back to their history all the same. The elephant in the room butting into other topics. History, division, and rivalry, all sneaking its way into the cracks in their words. 

Vale keeps going, the lead in their little play.

“Maybe. But it’s not— like, aerodynamics, new regulations, new tires— all that changes. Small stuff.  Opinions, riders. But it is still a paddock. I’ve been in paddocks my entire life. You can’t change much.”

Things change a lot, in Marc’s experience. People. Teams. Bodies. 

Friendships.

And Marc is brave usually, has made a career out of it, so he feels like he has to ask. No use avoiding it and feeling half out of his skin for the rest of the day. Vale’s knee bumps into his own and he closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them Vale is already looking at him

“Why are you here?” He levels.

Vale throws him a soft smile. It comforts exactly no part of Marc.

“Maybe I was looking for a hiding place.”

Marc hesitates, choosing his words carefully. It’s always a spar with Valentino; even when they were friendly, they were still competing.

“Am I the hiding place?”

“Well, I am still more famous than you, is true. Less photographers on you than me. It’s peaceful.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Now there’s a good question.” Vale says, stealing something else off of Marc’s plate. “Today? I was hungry. I thought I’d stop by and eat with an old friend.” The words jolt through Marc like a highside. He’s in the air— lost, flying, falling. 

Vale stands, towering. He claps Marc on the shoulder. It burns white hot. Marc keeps his eyes on him, trying to catch a hint, a clue as to how this all happened. 

An old friend.

“Is that what we are?” He asks, more earnest than he should be. Vale can be such a bastard.

“Well, what would you call it?” He responds, turning the question on Marc, voice quiet. Serious, like he knows whatever hangs between them is as thin as a spiderweb. Marc swallows.

“I don’t know,” Marc answers. still too honest, even now. Something flickers on Vale’s face, too quick and complex for him to read. 

“Think about it.” Vale prompts, and walks away.

Marc finds out that they weren’t alone, in that section of the paddock the next day. The pictures hit the news after the race, headlines rolling in thankfully after Marc has left for home. Valentino Rossi and Marc Marquez sharing lunch, alone on a race weekend ten years after their falling out. What could it mean? 

But Marc’s eyes look at the photo and just catch on Vale’s shoulders, leaning towards Marc, the palm of his hand, arcing through the air as he gestures, frozen on the screen of his phone, and himself, eyes crinkled at the corners. He was wrong. He didn’t manage to reign in that smile after all. 

FRIENDS AGAIN?, the headline asks, and Marc wonders.

[hubristicassholefight]

Swordswoman Showdown Round 4/Quarterfinal

Kikunojo (One Piece) vs Brienne of Tarth (A Song Of Ice and Fire)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Kikunojo

She is a samurai and a retainer for the Kozuki Family, serving as one of the Nine Red Scabbards, a group of samurai that protect the Kozuki family and their country. She's a very skillful samurai, and she and her group managed to delay and hold off the main villain of the arc, (which was an almost insurmountable task for even the main character) and survived the experience despite her horrible injuries; She's canonically and openly trans! And she's gorgeous. And huge... She's 287 cm tall, which for the USAmericans in the audience is 9' 5". She's simply the coolest.

She’s a samurai and fights with a sword; tall trans woman <3

Legendary devoted samurai!; She's 2.87m tall, a time traveler, and not even losing an arm in the middle of the fight stopped her- she had it imediately cauterized and went back to the fight.

She's a lady samurai! Pretty and very skillful with her katana!

She is a samurai who was sent 20 years into the future to avenge the death of her lord; She’s so tall and canonically trans and I love her

She’s a badass samurai who fights for what she believes in and to help people. She is known as Kiku of lingering snow. She’s also canonically trans

She's a time traveling trans samurai, the only woman in a group of 9 legendary samurais; Her arm was chopped off by the biggest baddie so far and she continued fighting, isn't that badass?

One of the strongest samurai in her country; She's a trans icon

#kiku the greatest of all time#🐐#tall and gorgeous samurai lady#who is a trans icon#love that she is so tall that she doesn't fit in the image display#gets recognized as strong by the main character multiple times and proves it by being the most resilient badass of the entire arc#stands up to tyrants and abusers of class privilege#also helps break said main character out of the enemies prison and takes part in a rebellion against the corrupt prison staff#one piece#okiku#kiku

#kiku is canonically trans

Brienne

gets gifted a sword made with the rarest metal ever because she’s THAT good; she’s simply the best

Brienne is one of the top sword users alive in her day. She's descended from a man who's catchphrase was "I'm better with a sword." Better than what? You. Jaime Lannister. Loras Tyrell. Any five given guys at once. She has a fantastic sword that might be magic or cursed and is named Oathkeeper because that's what she does; I love her

Beat like 20 guys in a tournament when she was 19. Was given a magic sword. Won a sword fight against the premier swordsman in the realm. Very swordly; Very tall and strong. Holds her sword in high esteem. Accomplished with other weapons as well!

She's defeated multiple of the top knights in the series in duels. One such knight gifts her the fabergé egg of swords and she uses it to defend orphans and stuff. Got out of a bad betrothal by dueling him and beating his ass so bad she broke multiple bones. Honestly there's so much more she is the swordswoman of all time. to me; She's buff and ugly and 6' 5" and so honorable and kind that she inspires the guy who fucks his sister to yknow. stop doing that. literally gets mauled for the sake of protecting a bunch of orphans (with her sword). also she's 20 she should be at the club ‼️

One of the best sword wielders in Westeros, the author says he would pick her to defend him. Has a cool sword called Oathkeeper. Manages to go up against 7 fighters and take out most of them,. The only true knight; First off, talking about book brienne, they massacred show brienne, the show runners simply didn’t understand what she’s about.“ She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice” brienne had plenty of choice but she couldn’t leave people to die. The chivalric paradigm is rotten and corrupted, but here is Brienne, the one true knight, who isn’t even a actual knight! “knights are for killing”, but here is a knight who risks her life again and again to protect innocents! Bri IS hope, she is the light in the dark that shows that things can be better, things must be better. Fundamentally an idealist: “Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining”

[nathanielzalexandria]

I love all the headcanons of "Steve is not dumb he's..." Hard of hearing, has poor eyesight, learning disability or his primary language is not English. I particularly enjoyed @dwobbitfromtheshire 's recent headcanon that he's hiding it because his father hates feeling inferior and only Eddie realizes that he is not dumb. But I would like to throw my own hat in the ring.

Steve is not dumb. Actually, he's quite smart and did quite well in school (because his parents would not expect anything less). He just wasn't into nerd culture and everyone just placed their stereotypes and rumours of him being a pretty and privileged rich jock who bought his way out of school but couldn't buy his way into college. Nevermind that he was in the top 10 students of his year and for most of his classes if not topping them and if not he wasn't failing the rest other than one or two science/math-based (rumours say the school forged those marks so that Steve could continue sports) and had a 3.6 GPA. It wasn't enough to get into his Dad's alma mater so his dad dismissed any of the other schools he got accepted into.

He does not try to hide his intelligence from Nancy or the Party, but Nancy had bought into the "Steve is simple-minded " narrative and the like before they got together and failed to realize that they are both in the same AP classes that were full of seniors and in any group or partnered project he more-than-well pulled his weight and had his own insights. So she spreads the narrative to Mike who spreads it to the rest of the party so by the time the events that befan with Dustin asks him for help with his "dog" and developed into concussed in the back of a car while a preteen drove his car, the kids have also bought into parts of the narrative. It doesn't help that he really isn't into the stereotypical nerdy stuff

Even his best friend Robin believed the lie until she worked with him and then got tortured with him by Russians. She eventually realises that he's way smarter in a practical sense than people give him credit for (he did raise himself since he was 11 or so) but does not think of it as stretching into the academic side of his life. She has not stopped calling him "dingus" though.

Eddie on the other hand knows better, which is why when a specific exam was coming up he turned to Steve.

He barged into the Harrington home a day when tye entire party was their.

"Stevie, you either have to tutor me or lend me your notes for this class. I am not failing this class and increasing the possibility of another year at fucking Hawkins."

Mike and Dustin burst out laughing at that before Steve can answer.

"I know you're e bad at that subject, but I didn't realise you were desperate enough to use Steve's notes," Dustin says with that condescending tone that means it should be obvious to Eddie.

Mike snorts at that derisively, "If he even has notes."

"Maybe," Lucas said diplomatically, "there are better options than using Steve's notes?"

Nancy steps up next offering some of her notes and flashcards since she took the class last year/is taking the class, "It's not my strongest subject but if we do a study group I'm sure you won't fail the class."

Eddie stares at the group with growing bewilderment as they agree that Nancy is the best choice while implying that Steve was not. Actually, they were acting as though he was dumb for even asking Steve, which made no sense to him.

Eddie turned his eyes to Steve. His posture by the kitchen island was much more different than when Eddie burst in. He had subtly curled into himself as if to make himself smaller, shoulders tense and a resignation on his face as if he's been through this conversation so many times before.

It was almost as if...

"You guys think that Steve is dumb, don't you?"

There was the type of silence that only comes when the quiet part is said outloud.

"No we don't think Steve's dumb," Robin begins and Eddie can hear the 'but' before she even said it, "But you know he wasn't good at the school part of school."

She continued to ramble on from there but Eddie did not hear any of it. He was too busy reevaluating the group he was with and rechecking old memories and facts to see if there was any inkling of truth to this strange idea that even the older teens should know isn't true.

It took him a moment to find the answer, and when he did he could not stop the derisive laugh that burst out and interrupted Robin's ramble.

"You guys fucking bought into the rumours, didn't you? I expect that from the kids maybe even Johnathan, maybe even Robin because of you became friends after he left school, but not from you, Nancy."

Nancy had that look on her face that she got when she was ready to argue but Eddie steamrolled over it.

"Jesus H Christ! Weren't y'all together for a whole fucking year? How do you not know that he was at the top of his year when you were together? Unless you dismissed that in favour of believing the rumours that his parents paid for his grades and the school wanted to make sure he kept on playing sports?"

He paused for a second waiting for someone to contradict him, but the look on Nancy's face was one of scrambling to defend herself. He sighed at that; she still wasn't getting it and it a sweeping look at the others proved they were lost too.

"Even if they paid off the school he would not have been in the top ten of his year, he would be like Carver and Hagan whose parents paid and their grades were just good enough to get into a decent college without too many questions. And they would not have kept on giving him high grades after he stopped doing any kind of sport in his last 2 years at that dump. Hell if Hargrove wasn't such a fucking beast at sports he would have been told he would have to repeat his senior year with me."

"It's okay Eddie; leave it go." He turned a fake sunny smile with his eyes tightly shut towards Eddie as if to pacify him.

Eddie turned to Steve who had yet to say anything throughout Eddie's diatribe up until that moment. He just continued to robotically make dinner for the party as though nothing was wrong, as though the hurt dripping off him didn't matter.

"I'm not letting this go! They had classes with you, some of which I'm pretty fucking sure were AP classes. If I had the attendance needed I would have graduated last year because of you, Stevie. So excuse me if I'm a bit annoyed that our friends are so blinded by a rumour that they can't fucking see your Salutatorian medal. Hanging. Right. There!"

All eyes except Eddie and Steve's turned in the direction that Eddie pointed at.

And there on the wall, was a framed silver medal with the word "Salutatorian" emblazoned on it. The party immediately burst into chaos amongst each other.

"Now, pretty boy, are you gonna tutor me or what?"

Or it goes something like that, I'm not sure.

[eli0004]

Okay. So I loved loved loved your relationship HC canons. They were so well written and I loved him❤

But can I also request Levi falling in love HCs? Like I can imagine him being in love but for the love of God I can not imagine how he would fall in love with someone. Like what certain characteristics would he like? Bold? Calm? Sunshine? Introverted? And how will he be attracted to them? Would it be easy for him to accept his feelings or will he be in denial?

Like please please please.... I love the way you write Levi. So please.

-🌼

Absolutely! I love this topic actually, it’s something I’ve thought a lot about! 🖤 I hope you enjoy!

Genre: Fluff

Summary: How does Levi Ackerman fall in love, and what is his ideal type?

Warnings: None, maybe some talk of insecurity?

Levi is a December Capricorn. December Caps are known for being highly emotional, but struggling with emotional expression. They’re also usually very uptight and disciplined, and tend to take a practical approach when dealing with situations as opposed to flying by the seat of their pants. Obviously these traits are pretty accurate to Levi’s character. A Capricorn’s most ideal match are typically Taurus or Virgos. Commonly known Tausus/Virgo traits are passion, stubbornness, dependability, logic and communication.

Now, obviously you don’t have to be a Taurus or Virgo to be loved by Levi, but think with that in mind, Levi would do best with someone who is very strong willed and independent. He’s not the type of guy who wants to be with someone he has to keep his eye on. Emotional maturity and practical thinking are very important traits to him when looking for a partner, and someone who can communicate well is very attractive to him, since he has a harder time putting his feelings into words.

He likes someone who is genuine, trustworthy and dependable. Someone who has a strong sense of justice and empathy, who defends and advocates for others when they are unable to defend themselves.

I think he likes a good mix of pessimism and optimism. He’s a pessimist himself, so if you’re too optimistic it may irritate him rather than help, he prefers someone who is more of a realist. Someone who doesn’t enable his negativity, but who helps him to think rationally instead.

Like i said before, i think Levi is a deeply emotional person. If you’re only looking surface level, it wouldn’t be obvious, but when you breakdown a lot of his character traits in the show itself, it’s pretty clear that he tends to be swayed by his emotions. I think he would know immediately when he falls in love.

He’s the type of guy who’s always in his head, he thinks a lot, visiting the past, pondering the future. When he starts to catch his pondering turning into fantasizing about a life with you, doing domestic things, and being cozy together, that’s when it hits him.

But I think he’s also deeply insecure, not so much about his looks, but his personality. His ability to love again after having lost so many people. Whether or not you deserve someone better. He’s used to being misread as unapproachable or mean, so somewhere along the way, i think he might have begun to believe those things.

I think it would mean a lot to him if you just treated him like a normal person. Not humanities strongest, not mean or unapproachable, or someone to be pitied for his struggles. Just let him be Levi, and praise him for who he is in his soul.

All that said, i don’t think he would be the one to make a move 💀 because he’s so in his head, i think he’d be too worried that he’s misread the situation and that you don’t see him that way, perhaps you’re just being nice. He’s extremely oblivious to flirting.

But if you catch on first and decide to shoot your shot, he will be absolutely flabbergasted. He’s looking over his shoulder like “do you mean- are you talking to me?” Before that moment, he’s mostly convinced that he’ll be pining in silence for the rest of your lives.

Levi blushes. A lot. He’s very pale in complexion, so the smallest bit of flirting or teasing has heat spreading over his face, and it’s painfully obvious.

So when you’ve got him face to face, telling him how you feel about him, he may not be able to respond in beautiful poetic words, but his body language is enough to tell you how he feels.

He won’t make eye contact, he’s all red faced and bouncing his leg and gripping his teacup with so much force, you’d think it was going to crumble. And oh- what’s that? An ever-so- subtle, happy little grin; completely involuntary, he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. He feels boyish and vulnerable, but it’s strangely nice.

Your relationship with Levi is not a secret, but it is private. He values your time together, as it helps him to decompress. He all but melts in your embrace after a particularly hard day, and It’s crucial that you respect his desire for privacy, the level of raw emotion and vulnerability with these new experiences is something that he’s entrusted you with and that means everything to him.

And on the subject of new experiences, the more you handle him with care and allow him to process his feelings without judgment, the less he’ll worry about not being good enough, and you’ll find that he’s a very good and attentive lover.

Even still, you’ll find from time to time that reassurance is something Levi needs like he needs air to breathe, and this can come in the form of many things, like remembering little details about the things he loves, taking care of some of his responsibilities when he’s feeling overwhelmed, quiet touches when he lacks the energy to speak.

Having someone who sees him for who he is and loves all his broken pieces is what Levi finds comfort in while he’s nestled in your arms at night, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[divorcedfiddleford]

You made a post saying “it has been zero days since our last alex hirsch hates ford so much bullshit” and i know it was mostly hyperbole, but you have some really good takes that I would love to be elaborated on in terms of how ford is written

it really wasn't hyperbolic. over the years he's just really shown a lot of hatred towards this one character.

content warning: discussion of abuse

i want to start with this clip from the commentary which i think of as a microcosm for how the writers and especially alex think about ford.

transcript:

rob renzetti: i mean he [mcgucket] should've basically knocked ford out, and... and destroyed the... you know, tied him up, and, destroyed... and... alex hirsch, speaking over him: yeah he should've beat ford with a wrench and taken this thing apart piece by piece! he's the one who understood how to built [sic] it, but...

... so that seems like a pretty violent course of action. shall we unpack that?

ford is a character who's pretty explicitly written as a victim of abuse, and who now has c-ptsd as a direct result of the abuse he experienced. alex hirsch believes that ford deserved everything bad that happened to him, that it's ford's own fault, and that he also deserved worse things to happen to him. this is why, given every narrative chance, alex hirsch has piled more suffering onto ford's plate. the biggest example of this i can think of is in the journal, when he wrote that fiddleford was actively erasing ford's memory (despite this being a massive timeline contradiction which i still refuse to accept). because god forbid ford even have one remotely healthy relationship with somebody. that would be too good for him. ford was manipulated and lied to by bill, but alex repeatedly compares him to icarus, a teenager whose demise was the result of his own ignorance. this comparison is still so fucking offensive to me. the sun did not lie to icarus, did not guarantee icarus all of the happiness and success and sense of belonging which he had been denied all his life, did not actively shut out the voices of those around him who would try to help him.

alex in general has a very strange relationship with abuse. he seems to get really upset when people read his characters as victims of abuse. the strongest instance of this is actually not with ford, it's with pacifica - especially in the nwmm episode commentary. the episode says "pacifica's parents have conditioned her to respond to a bell" and alex says people got "the wrong idea" about it. like. dude. what the fuck. you wrote abuse. even if you didn't mean to, that's what you wrote. you can't say people got "the wrong idea" just because you didn't think about the subtext of what you were writing. anyway, back to ford: i believe this extends to him as well. alex wanted to write a character who's a foil to stan and who was a selfish unlikable victim of his own arrogance. however that's not what he wrote. he somehow seemingly accidentally wrote a really compelling and relatable awesome autistic guy who had to fight for every good thing he he ever had in his life only for it to be taken from him every single time. but alex can't let go of seeing ford as just "the opposite of stan". when he talks about "how someone as smart as ford could fall for bill's tricks", he refuses to realize he wrote a situation in which a man was being psychologically manipulated and tortured.

it goes back further, too. people repeatedly theorized that filbrick was... not a very good father, to say the least. on top of the very explicit and canon fact that he threw one of his children out on the street (seriously, there is no defense for this), people pointed out that stan would flinch at filbrick, that ford seemed upset by things filbrick said but dared not talk back, that filbrick was mad at stan not for hurting his brother, but for "costing the family potential millions". but alex can't have people seeing ford as sympathetic. ford can't have it bad like stan did. ford had to have everything and he lost it all because he sucks so much. so he wrote the graphic novel story where ford is filbrick's favorite child and filbrick also is not even a bad parent you guys he's just stoic. ignore the whole thing in dreamscaperers where stan perpetuates the abuse that filbrick did to him. ignore the fact that ford was shouting at stan and then completely shut up as soon as filbrick entered the room and did not say another word for the rest of the night. ignore all that because i just made up this story where he cries at a present from stan. filbrick loved his boys for sure you guys!!!

i'm not even touching on how alex repeatedly villainizes traits commonly associated with mental illness and neurodivergence. ford's hypervigilance becomes arrogance. his passion for knowledge means he's a know-it-all. his difficulty socializing and making friends means he's a misanthrope. his lingering resentment for the way he was raised means he hates his brother and is the worst human being to ever have lived. i could go on, go even further into how the finale reaffirms this, but i feel weird talking about this too much.

[laracrofted]

and so it goes

synopsis: bradley accepts maverick's invitation to spend christmas in the mountains, not realizing penny benjamin's hot niece will also be there.

pairings: bradley bradshaw x fem!reader (no y/n)

wc: 4.1K

warnings: an emphatic 18+, minors and ageless accounts dni, swearing, explicit smut, unprotected semi-public sex in a hot tub (writing this made me want to take a cranberry pill, please be safer than these two), thigh riding, dirty talk, a dash of exhibitionism, a sprinkle of praise kink

note: i... can't believe i wrote this. if you read we'd run inside out from the cold, i make a brief reference to bradley spending christmas skiing in the mountains. and somehow, here we now stand!

summoning @theharddeck (thighs) and @bioodforbiood (rooster is being slutty again) and a few people who wanted we'd run inside smut (if this isn't the worst thing you've ever seen, i'm working on that part two, i promise): @blue-aconite @thedroneranger @dhwanishah09 @six-bloodyminutes

“We should probably go inside…” 

…is what Bradley should have said 20 minutes ago when Penny and Maverick turned in for the night, leaving him alone in the outdoor hot tub with an open bottle of champagne and oh yeah, Penny Benjamin’s niece. 

December is frigid cold in the mountains, especially at this altitude, but from the deck, Bradley has a clear and perfect view of the mountains, peaked with snow and ice, glittering in the bluish moonlight. 

He also has a clear and perfect view of you, sitting across from him in a bikini top that barely covers anything at all. Steam rises from the surface of the water, doing precious little to obstruct the sight of your smooth skin, the barest tease of cleavage with your every shuddering breath.

Are you breathing like that on purpose? Bradley wonders, almost accusatory, then feels like a complete asshole. 

You could be having trouble breathing this high in the mountains. You shouldn’t risk altitude sickness, just because Bradley can’t look at your face without drifting down to your chest.

And once again, Bradley could've suggested going inside. 

He didn’t do that, choosing to instead refill his champagne glass, and now Maverick is probably going to let the damn missile take him out next time. He could’ve spent Christmas in San Diego alone. Not risking death at Penny Benjamin’s rented cabin.

He’d met you a few times at the Hard Deck, covering a shift at the bar for your aunt, like a good and dutiful niece. You were damn sweet too, taking orders and serving up drinks with a wide smile and an untouchable brightness in your eyes, even against the rudest patrons who’d had too much to drink.

You would smile all the way to the bell, ringing it without missing a beat, calling the nearest and strongest-looking Navy guys over to throw the asshole out in the sand. 

Hangman was the first one on the team to meet you, which was a little unfortunate for you. You did catch him in Relationship Jake mode when Jake had just started dating another Naval aviator on the team who was way too good for him. He wasn’t as much of an ass as usual. 

Walking into the Hard Deck, dressed in his usual open Hawaiian shirt, Bradley did a full-on double take at the unfamiliar bartender that Hangman was chatting with. You were effusive enough to dim the lights and the noise, drown out the loud music and chatter. He walked closer without even realizing it, drawn in. 

He didn’t catch the whole conversation, only the tail end. 

Where Hangman had said something like, “Aren’t you sweet?” with a scheming edge to his expression, something that the new Hard Deck bartender wouldn’t know to catch, not knowing him like Bradley did.

And with a subtle shake of his head, Hangman tucked it away, buttoned behind his signature smirk, and caught an eavesdropping Bradley around the shoulder.

“Bradshaw! You meet Penny’s niece yet?” 

Hangman shoved him forward, and Bradley stumbled into the bar hard enough to nearly knock the empty glasses from the counter. He turned to glare at the other man, but Jake had already melted in the crowd, no doubt seeking out his girlfriend – and again, too good for him – in the masses. 

You were watching him with raised brows, clearing away the glasses that had nearly shattered in the chaos and wiping down the counter. An expectant look on your face. 

He looked you up and down, like Bradley had been looking anywhere else for the past three minutes straight, and offered you a sheepish smile and a handshake. You met him with a warm smile and slipped your hand into his, telling him your name. 

“Pretty name,” Bradley repeated it, holding your hand for a half second longer than was strictly polite. You looked down at your hands, still joined over the counter, the cutest wrinkle in your forehead. He gave you your hand back, already mourning the contact. “I’m Bradley.” 

You eyed him and asked, “Bradley Bradshaw? What kind of name is that?” with a teasing lilt to your voice, passing him an IPA and opting to linger for a moment, despite the Hard Deck patrons clamoring for your attention on the other side. 

Rested your elbows on the sticky counter and leaned in. 

He nodded a confirmation. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

Women had always complimented him on his hands, wide palms and good fingers, and Bradley made sure to circle the bottle in his hand right in your line of sight, lingering there, not lifting it to his mouth. You watched him the whole time, an expression on your face that was unreadable. Not self-conscious though.

You didn’t seem to care that Bradley noticed. 

“You can call me Bradley.” He traced a knuckle through the condensation on the bottle, watching you watch him, gaze flitting from his face to his hand and back again. “Rooster works too. Hell, I think I’d probably answer to Bradshaw.” 

“Oh, so I can call you anything I like then?” 

Something shifted in your expression, warmed that bright smile into something more knowing, more flirtatious. Look at that, Bradley thought, taking another sip of his beer, fist tight around the glass. Teeth dented your lower lip, and Bradley wanted to reach out and pull your lip from between them. 

He wanted to sink his own into it. 

He opened his mouth to let out his best line when Penny appeared from the back and called your name. You shot him a parting smile, rescuing a few crumbled bills from the counter on your way over, and Bradley was left to watch you go, mind spinning with the possibilities. 

And now, Bradley doesn’t have to imagine the possibilities anymore. 

Sure, Maverick will probably sabotage his snowboard on the Black Diamond tomorrow and make his death look like an unfortunate accident, all in the name of Penny Benjamin, but Bradley is feeling a little daring right now. 

You last all of 10 minutes alone together before Bradley has you in his lap, grinding down on his bare thigh under the bubbling water with the damp fabric of that obscenely small bikini top balled up in his fist. 

And in his defense, Bradley makes a gallant effort for those 10 minutes. 

He really does.

He pulls out all the good conversation starters. Such as…

“Moon looks really cool tonight.” 

He whips that one out around the 2:45 minute mark, after Bradley already finished his champagne and offered the rest to you in the name of being polite and like, a goddamn gentleman. Forgetting that Maverick had taken your glass inside.

You reassured him, “Oh, I don’t need a glass,” and proceeded to pour champagne directly into your open mouth. It bubbled over your parted lips, spilling over the edge of your chin, trickling down your neck and collarbone, and Bradley had to look at the stars overhead and count backwards from 200.

200, 199, 198… You can’t fuck Penny Benjamin’s niece and ruin Christmas, or Maverick will leave you for dead in the wilderness… 197, 196, 195…

And Bradley’s tried and true check out the moon distraction doesn’t work out so well for him either. You can’t see it well from your spot in the hot tub and end up moving next to him to get a better angle, and now, Bradley has a front-row seat to the steam drifting off your skin.

Not your best work there, Bradshaw. 

“So…” Bradley tries again, around the 5:00 minute mark, after finding and losing Orion’s Belt six times. “You’re Penny’s niece, which makes you like… the daughter of her sister, right? That’s… cool.” 

You send him an odd look and don’t respond, closing your eyes and leaning your head back on the edge. Tuning him out. 

He probably deserves that. 

And around the 9:30 minute mark, Bradley has thought too hard about the steam rising from your skin and the flush that is spreading down your torso from the temperature. You get to your knees to look out over the dark blue mountains, and Bradley watches a droplet of moisture run from your shoulder down the length of your spine. 

He can’t get out of the hot tub like this. He’ll need to wait you out. 

It is fine. He can wait. 

He can stay out here all night. 

Less than 30 seconds later, Bradley is digging his thumb into the hinge of your jaw, opening you up to him, licking inside your mouth. You are sticky warm from the steam. A stark contrast from the chill of your lips, cold from the below freezing temperatures. 

He’d seen you sucking on a peppermint stick all evening, twirling it around a spiked hot chocolate, and Bradley can taste the rich chocolate and mint on your tongue. He could probably lick your neck and taste the spilled champagne. 

He wants nothing more than to lift you onto one of the wooden lounge chairs and press his face between your thighs. He wants you to ride him into oblivion and make his last Christmas alive a good one.

Maverick can kill him on New Year's.  

He doesn’t want to risk moving much closer to the still-dark cabin, so Bradley catches you around the waist, pressing and grabbing at any available skin. You make an encouraging noise against his mouth, and Bradley gets bolder, covering your breast with one large palm and anchoring you in place with the other one. 

He bounces his thigh, grinding you down on him at the exact same time, and god-fucking-damn, Bradley could come from that delicious sound alone, as gasping and needy as the hands that cling to his slick shoulders. 

He does it again, soaking in those gorgeous noises. 

Bradley breaks the kiss, hooking a thumb underneath the loose sting of your bikini bottoms that are still on for some fucking reason. You don’t need them anymore. He needs to feel you.

“Get these off,” Bradley whispers against your throat, pressing a hot kiss to the spot below your jaw. A quick taste confirms what Bradley suspected. You taste like champagne and sweat. 

“Take them off then.” You look at him with a challenge in your eyes, a twitch in your lips giving away your amusement. “I’m comfortable right here.” 

And to demonstrate your point, Bradley feels you rock down on his thigh once more, moving your hips without his guidance. He watches you, incredulous and turned on behind comprehension, and as retaliation, Bradley doesn’t bother unknotting the tie. 

He closes his fist around the strings and pulls hard enough to make them snap in two, shoving them to the side. Fabric floats up to the middle of the jacuzzi, joining the untied bikini top. It is damning evidence, and Bradley will need to remember to grab those on their way inside. 

You go still on top of him, and Bradley bites back a smirk. 

“Oh… my god, Bradley. I didn’t bring another swimsuit.” You slap your wet palm against his shoulder, looking about as menacing as Bradley has ever seen you look. Like a little baby kitten with a fluffed tail. “If I can’t use the hot tub for the rest of the trip because of you and your… your caveman hands…” 

“Oh yeah? You seemed to like my caveman hands a minute ago,” Bradley teases, testing his luck to the max.

He grips your thigh in his ‘caveman’ hand, hard enough to leave marks, and yanks you forward. His swim trunks ride low on his hips, so Bradley can feel you against his torso, smooth and warm and spread wide.

“What changed, baby?” 

You shiver, and Bradley sneaks a hand between your bodies, pressing the pad of his thumb right on your clit. Nails dig into his bicep, urging him on, and Bradley smiles again. 

“You still like them, don’t you?” 

“Maybe…” is more of an exhale than an admission. You look at him from under half-lowered lids, mouth slack from the feeling of Bradley gently circling your clit with his fingers. “But… I really did want to use the tub again. It’s, ah…” He sinks an index finger into you without preamble. You take him like a dream, all honey and silk around him. “It’s relaxing.” 

“You need to relax?” 

You nod, and Bradley nibbles at your neck, licking away the drops of champagne that still cling to your skin. He feels buzzed. It is probably just your proximity, the feeling of you on him.

“I’ll help you relax. Sweet thing like you, always looking out for everyone, aren’t you? Always helping everyone. You need someone who’ll be sweet to you too, don’t you, honey?” 

He winds your damp hair around his fingers at the base of your skull, reveling in the way your mouth falls open, the way you clench down around his fingers, absently canting your hips into him. God. He is hard enough to hurt, watching you like this. 

You don’t answer, and Bradley gives your hair a gentle but firm tug.

“Answer me, sweetness. I need to hear you say it.” 

A sharp inhale brings your chest against his, and Bradley can feel your hardened nipples. He’ll get to those later, right now Bradley is too busy watching your face, feeling you flutter around his fingers. 

“Yes.”

“Yes…?” Bradley prompts, capturing your gasp with a crushing kiss against your open mouth. He pulls away, letting your hair flow through his fingers, moving that hand back down to hold tight to your hips. He stills you, ignoring your whimpered protest. “Gotta be more specific than that.” 

You look him right in the eye, despite the embarrassed flush that’s overtaken your cheeks. “Yes, I want you to be… I want you to be sweet to me, want you to help me relax. I want all of it.” 

“Good girl.” 

Bradley pulls away all of his fingers except the one that’s teasing your clit. You give him this sad, mournful look and open your mouth to complain, maybe even to whine, but Bradley slides you back down onto his leg. He slots his firm thigh between yours, bends his knee to push against you, and the only sound that passes your lips is a breathy ‘fuck’ that makes him groan.

“I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ll be sweet to you,” Bradley promises, guiding your hand to the front of his swim trunks. He is so big, straining against the loose fabric. You tug your lip between your teeth. “But I need to get you ready for me. I need you to be good for me. Can you do that?” 

“Yes, I… Tell me how.” 

“I need you to come all over my thigh.”

 

You really shouldn’t let him talk to you like this, shouldn’t be in this position at all, completely naked on the broad thigh of the cute Naval aviator who sometimes smiled and flirted with you at the Hard Deck. 

Actually… You should probably give yourself a little more credit here.

You knew Bradley was interested in you. Had been able to tell from the moment Hangman called him over on the very first night when Bradley had been hovering only a few feet away, obviously listening in. 

He’d smiled at you, all big and unassuming brown eyes that probably got him both in and out of all sorts of trouble. He was built like a brick shithouse, tall and wide and completely, utterly hot. 

Hot enough that when Penny asked you to come on the annual Northern California trip while Amelia opted for a tropical Christmas in Hawaii with Aunt Penny’s ex-husband…

You might have not so subtly asked whether Captain Mitchell had any plans to invite Bradley there for Christmas, accepting the invitation after Penny snorted and informed you that yes, Maverick had asked him. You choose to ignore the knowing undertone of her response. 

You hadn’t been expecting anything in all honestly, more curious about whether Bradley would act any different towards you outside the familiar environment of the Hard Deck. Hoped for a kiss under the nonexistent mistletoe at most. Maybe even a dinner invitation back in San Diego. 

Nothing like this. 

Bradley is still holding you between his hands, a crooked knuckle stroking and teasing at you under the water. It’s… different doing this here, hot water sloshing around your elbows, a fine layer of steam rapidly cooling on your skin in the cold mountain air. You didn’t expect to like it so much.

Snow starts to drift down from above, melting on the surface of the water, and Bradley is looking at you with liquid warmth swimming in his deep brown eyes, an intense concentration on his face.

Right. He asked you a question. 

Not a question. He told you how to do something.

How to be good for him.

Shivers run down your spine at the thought. 

“I think…” You aren’t doing all the much thinking right now to be honest. It is mostly overwhelming arousal and radio static up there right now. “I can do that. I want to do that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

And the corner of Bradley’s mouth kicks up into a self-satisfied smirk. “Better get to work then. Don’t know how long I can stand having you spread open for me and not fuck you, but I’ll wait for you, baby.”

Something about that flips a switch in you, the idea that Bradley is holding himself back from grabbing you and sinking you down on his cock. You pick up your previous pace, rolling your hips forward and down on his thigh. He meets you at your level, working your clit, letting you push against the palm of his hand.

It feels unreal. 

Before Bradley even really gets talking. 

“Look at you, baby,” He hums the words against your neck, littering the skin with open-mouthed kisses, sometimes pausing to suck and bite in the places that could easily be covered with a scarf.

“You’re so fucking sweet, aren’t you? Everyone loves you. Such a sweet little angel, and yet, I’ve got you out here riding my fucking thigh. Someone could come out and see us. You don’t care, do you?” 

You can’t help the clench of your thighs, the too loud moan that bubbles from your lips. He shushes you and continues to torment you with dirty words whispered in your ear, voice deep and rasping. 

Pleasure is building and building. 

You are hot enough to burn.

“Fuck yourself on my thigh, angel,” Bradley instructs, pressing down on your clit. Everything disappears in a streak of white for a moment, and then Bradley comes back into focus, an apparition in the steam, urging you on. “Come for me. Come all over me, and then I’ll fuck you. You want me to fuck you, don’t you, baby?” 

You can’t get the words out, too drunk on the sensation of his hard thigh slotted against you, the perfect friction of it. Feeling more benevolent, Bradley accepts your nod as an answer this time. You can feel him, hard as a rock against your thigh, and in your pleasure drunk state, fumble with the band of his swim trunks to free him. 

It takes a few attempts, and one particularly well-placed thrust from Bradley almost makes you give up. You manage to get him out though, taking him in your hand, thick and heavy, running your thumb over the top of him. 

It’s no small satisfaction that Bradley seems as needy as you right now, as unbalanced, groaning into your shoulder. 

“Come for me,” Bradley repeats, low and warm against your skin.

It doesn’t take much more than those words and a few more strokes, and Bradley has to catch you against his chest, shaking and shuddering around him and over him, miles away from here.

You can barely make out the soothing praise that Bradley mumbles into your damp hairline. Good. Good. So good for me. Did so well for me. He is throbbing in your hand, and as soon as the white-hot pleasure has cooled, Bradley is pulling you back over him, sinking you down on him in one smooth thrust. 

A large hand comes over your mouth to muffle the high-pitched cry that threatens to echo through the damn mountain range, and Bradley’s dark gaze flits between your eyes, waiting for your nod. 

He doesn’t waste much time after that, seeming to realize at the same time as you that time is limited. Riding his thigh might’ve been a spiritual experience. It doesn’t mean that Penny and Maverick aren’t currently sleeping in a cabin less than 15 feet away. 

Sweat drips down his neck as Bradley lifts you up and lowers you back down again, fucking you in deep and unrelenting thrusts, filling you up over and over again. You pulse around him, still sensitive from the aftershocks of that orgasm, and still moving in you, Bradley drops his head back against the edge of the tub, letting out a pained exhale.

“You’re so fucking tight. Taking my cock like a fucking dream. So perfect for me.” 

He hits a spot that makes your toes curl, makes electricity shoot through your entire body. You cling to his chest, pulling at his broad shoulders and insanely muscular arms. Kiss the underside of his jaw, cupping his jaw. 

You’re not even sure Bradley is aware of the words coming out of his mouth right now, eyes screwed shut, thrusting into you with increasing sloppiness, both of you growing closer to the edge. 

“God, baby, I wish I didn’t have to be quiet right now, I want to hear your moans and screams. Want to hear you scream my name.” 

“When I get you back to San Diego, I’m going to keep you in my bed for a whole fucking week, make you come on my tongue and my cock over and over and over.” 

"Bet you'll be so fucking sweet. Can't wait to..."

“Fuck, I think… I’m…” 

He brings up his fingers to pinch at your nipples, to get you there with him, and barely 30 seconds after your second orgasm of the night pitches you forward, Bradley is spilling inside of you, moaning your name. 

Later, Bradley wraps you in a towel, carefully fishing the ruined bikini from the cooling water and grimacing down at the hot tub with his hands on his hips. He picks up the bottle of champagne, weighing it in his hand.

“Do you think if I tell Mav that I spilled champagne in the hot tub and not to use it for the rest of the trip…” Bradley starts, tugging at the towel that sits low on his hips, squinting at the remaining liquid in the bottle. “…that there is any chance he’ll believe me?” 

A smile quirks your lips. “I’d say an even 50-50 split.” 

“Good enough for me,” Bradley says with a shrug and dumps the remaining dribbles of champagne into the tub, tossing the bottle in after it. He looks proud of his work, tugging the cover back into place.

You are both silent on the walk back to the cabin, lost in thought. You are watching the snow that’s started to fall from the sky again, wondering what… all of that meant for the future.

Bradley is gnawing the edge of his lip, probably thinking about the champagne or the slopes tomorrow or…

He loops a naked arm around your waist without a word.

Giddiness warms your chest. 

You clear your throat, trying not to let it show in your voice. You deserve at least a veneer of coolness after letting him fuck you senseless in a hot tub, what with the infection you’re definitely going to get from this.

Worth it. 

“So...” You remember his earlier words, the ones from the heat of the moment that Bradley probably doesn’t even remember saying out loud. “‘When I get you back to San Diego’, huh?” 

He scratches at the back of his neck, and in the dim light, you can make out the softest flush that creeps over his bare chest. How Bradley could be embarrassed now is beyond you. Sheepish is an adorable look on him though. 

“Did… Did I forget to ask you out?”  

“It might’ve slipped through the cracks.” 

“Ah,” Bradley says, looking down at you with bright eyes and color high in his cheeks. Snow catches in his lashes and his mustache. You have the sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss it away. “Well, I’d like to take you out back in San Diego. How’s that sound to you?” 

You stretch up on your toes to kiss him, right there in the snow, dressed in nothing but your towels. He is warm enough for the both of you right now, skimming his palms over your shoulder blades, cupping your nape. 

You give your answer.

“Thought you’d never ask, Bradshaw.” 

(...anyway... thoughts?)