#I couldn’t. really. get good refs that I needed

[peapod20001]

I really did spend like. 6 hours trying to draw a muscular man body lmaooo

[jo-speaks]

UNDER CONTROL

OVERVIEW: after quinn's captaincy skills are put to the test, you want nothing more than to help him relax.

WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. bondage play, unprotected sex, p in v, etc.

note: atp, it's tradition for me to write a smut piece after every game.

wc: 2279

The game against Columbus had been a hard watch. 

Being sat on the couch in your and Quinn’s shared apartment was becoming increasingly more and more difficult the more the game carried on. During the first period, you couldn’t help but be a little frustrated at the lack of effort shown on the ice. 

However, your frustrations only grew during the last two periods. Watching Quinn and the rest of his teammates get assaulted every other second fueled your emotions, causing you to lash out at the TV due to the refs who seemed to be blind.

By the time the game had come to an end, resulting in a win for the Canucks, you couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated at everything that had transpired within the hours of the night. You knew Quinn would be happy with the win, but you also knew him well enough that he would be feeling the physical results of it too.

Once you received his text that he would be home in less than ten minutes, having found an alternate route to avoid the Vancouver traffic, your brain scrambled to think of ideas on how to make his night a little bit easier, not only on his body but on his mind.

You started by popping some leftover pizza into the microwave, knowing Quinn would eat anything you put in front of him, not caring what it was. Next, you brought out the fluffy pillows from the closet and laid them out on the couch, lighting some random Yankee candle you had found in there as well. Just as the microwave beeped and you put out one of Quinn’s favorite books on the coffee table, the front lock clicked, indicating he had arrived. 

Fumbling with your hands, you quickly walked over to the kitchen to pull the pizza out of the microwave and bringing it back over to the couch. 

“Hey.” You greeted, walking over to the doorway to kiss him.

He tiredly kissed you back, small droplets of water falling from his hair and onto your forehead, “Hi.”

“Congrats on the win, hot shot.” 

Quinn chuckled, “Thanks. Do you wanna order in or are you cooking?”

You smiled sheepishly, “Um, I actually just heated up some of the leftover pizza from a few days ago. I got too caught up in the game to actually… cook.”

He quickly noticed the embarrassment flood your face and he was quick to put a stop to it. He kissed your cheek, “You watched the game?”

“Always do. I just normally don’t get too into them, you know? But this one was really good”

Quinn let out a sigh before nodding. You could tell he was tired of standing, so you slid his hockey bag off of his shoulder and set it down on the floor. As you guided him over to sit on the couch, you couldn’t help but want to do more to help him relax. 

“Do you need anything? Water? Gatorade?” You questioned the second he sat down on the soft cushions. 

“Could you grab me a gato from the fridge?” 

You nodded, quickly making your way to the fridge and making your way back just as fast that you were surprised you hadn’t slipped, “Anything else?”

Quinn furrowed his eyebrows, “No thanks. Are you okay? You seem really jittery.”

It wasn’t hard to read you, but you were worried about the toll his body had taken during the game that you couldn’t help it. Your lack of a response caused Quinn to start to worry himself, doing the exact opposite of what you wanted to do.

He tugged you down onto the couch gently, allowing you to settle your tense body against his. It was silent as you let out a breath, easing into his touch. As you nestled your face into his chest, he winced, his body pulling back instinctively.

You pulled away quickly, “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

Quinn shook his head, “No it wasn’t you. Just got a bit roughed up tonight.”

You gave him a look, silently asking if you could lift up his shirt to see what exactly he meant by “roughed up.”. He tensed at your gaze, nodding subtly as he allowed your hands to lift up the fabric. It was hard to see the patch of purpled and slightly yellow skin spread across his chest and you couldn’t help but grimace at the sight. 

“If anything my head hurts more than this. I promise it looks worse than it feels.” He lied, not wanting to worry you further. “I got it under control.”

Quinn had always been one to try and shake things off himself, but after tonight he desperately wanted to distract himself from not only the pain but also to forget about how the night had started.

The first period had been rough, especially for him. It was a low-effort skate from everyone and that’s exactly what the fans were seeing. He struggled to think of ways to encourage his team or even help them out, but there’s only so much one guy can do.

When they entered the locker room he was determined to shift gears. Tocchet was barely able to get a word out before Quinn took the lead, getting his team back into a winning mindset. He was always looking for ways to improve himself and the team, and if they could focus and get their heads back into the game, he knew that would show that improvement. 

What he hadn’t expected was the mental toll it would take on him. He was exhausted both mentally and physically. He wanted nothing more than to get home and fall asleep since he expected you to already be in bed. But when he saw you awake and attentive to his needs, he wanted to simply sit and enjoy your presence.

“I can tell you’re tired, Quinn. Can I do anything or do you just want to head to bed?”

“There is one thing you can do for me.” He smiled, instantly gaining your attention, “Kiss me?”

You blushed at his request, slowly leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. “Better?”

Quinn smirked, “Think you might need to do it a few more times.”

Compiling, you kissed him again, letting this one linger a bit longer before pulling away again, an expectant look on your face, and a non-amused one on Quinn’s. He let out a sigh before pulling your leg over his lap, allowing you to straddle him. Bringing a hand up, he entangled his fingers gently in your hair, pushing your head slightly towards him to connect again.

It quickly began getting heated, a soft kiss turning into a full-blown make out session on the couch. Your hands wandered across his upper body, beginning to tug his shirt up when your knuckles made contact with his bruise, causing him to bite down harshly on your lip. 

You yelped at the pain but also realized what you had done causing you to pull away from him. “I’m so sorry,” Quinn reassured you quickly, trying to pull you back in, but you pushed against his force. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this tonight, I don’t wanna hurt you, Q.”

“Y/N, it’s fine. You’re not gonna hurt me.” 

“I just did! You’re hard not to touch, and I just don’t want to make it worse.” You mumbled, shying away from his touch and trying to return to your previous spot on the couch. 

Quinn was quick to stop you, “You trust me?”

You nodded, the question being a no-brainer. Quinn sat you down on the couch, walking over to the doorway to fetch something out of his bag. You weren’t sure what it was until he sat back down, returning you to your previous straddling position. 

“Quinn, what are you-?”  He cut you off, taking your hands behind your back, pushing you gently to lean a little bit forward, tying the fabric of his suit tie around your wrists and securing it tightly behind you.

“Now you can’t hurt me. So please, shut up and kiss me.”

His boldness caught you off guard but you had no time to be surprised as he tugged you down to kiss you yet again, You moaned against his mouth, the feeling of being restrained shooting a thrill throughout your body. 

The apartment suddenly felt hot and you knew it wasn’t just you who was feeling it. Quinn reluctantly pulled away, laying you down on your back as he stripped himself of his shirt and pants, his boxers coming down with them. 

Your mouth fell agape at the sight, but he had no time to notice as he hastily pulled off your bottoms, throwing them somewhere on the floor below you. 

“So fucking beautiful, baby.” He admired, shifting his body to hover above yours.

You wanted to tug on his hair desperately, but they were still bound behind your back, “Q, please. Wanna touch you.” 

Quinn chuckled, “Wanted you to touch me too, but you were so worried. Let me help us relax, yeah? I think we deserve it.” 

A whine was all that escaped your lips, bringing a smile to Quinn’s face. He sat you up yet again, his smile quickly replaced by his lips parting as he guided your hips to lower down onto him. You moaned softly at his pace, taking his sweet time to dwell on the feeling before bottoming out. 

He didn’t move, his hands resting tightly on your hips as he felt his muscles decompress. “You wanna do me a favour, sweet girl?”

You nodded, “What do you need, Q?”

Quinn looked up at you with tired eyes, “Fuck yourself on my cock.” Your eyes widened at his vulgarity, “I worked so hard tonight. Think I deserve it, don’t you?”

Too stunned to respond verbally, you pressed your body up slightly by using your legs, before letting yourself drop back down. Quinn groaned at your movements, fingertips digging deeper into your skin. 

You repeated the motion, setting a gentle, soft speed in order to let him relax and indulge in the pleasure. It felt good for you too, but you were fighting to resist the urge to go faster. You found yourself so lost in thought that you barely registered the feeling of Quinn’s hips snapping up to meet yours, picking up the pace slightly before settling back down and letting you take over.

“Fuck, Y/N. Feels so good.” He moaned, letting his head fall back onto the couch. 

Leaning forward, you began to litter kisses on his neck, eventually switching to suck on his skin, leaving purple marks along his shoulders and collarbone. Quinn sighed, letting his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your lips on his skin as well as at the feeling of the relatively slow pace he had managed to keep you at.

“You’re so perfect.” He babbled, losing himself in the pleasure, “So sweet to me, ready to help me relax after such a long night.”

You whimpered at his words, the sweetness of them rushing straight to your core. “Quinn.”

Quinn perked his head up slightly, “Yeah? What do you need, baby?”

“Need to go faster. Please.” You begged, the slow tempo becoming unbearable.

He nodded, using his hands to guide you into a quicker speed, your hips dropping onto his faster than they had before. The desperate desire to cum was increasing by the second, and Quinn knew it by the way your moans got louder and your walls clenched tighter around him. 

You were trying your best to keep up with the pace you had longed for, but the burn in your thighs was getting harder to ignore and with your hands being bound behind your back, there wasn’t much you could do to support yourself, “Quinn…” 

“Tired already?” He teased, grabbing your jaw so you’d face him, “Imagine how I felt tonight, baby. Got shoved and slashed every time I got the puck.”

You cried out, the knot in your stomach getting closer and closer to snapping. “My hands! Please, Quinn. Please.” 

Quinn only wanted to push you so far, so keeping your hands tied at this point just seemed cruel. He tussled with the tie for a moment before unwrapping the knot, letting your hands breathe. One immediately found his shoulder, using the newly added support to help them speed up to a pace that had Quinn moaning, while the other found a home in his brown locks in order to avoid his bruise. 

“Fuck. Gonna make me cum.” He groaned, “Don’t stop, Y/N.”

His words alone were enough to tip you over the edge. You whined as you let go, body trembling as you submitted to the euphoria, face dropping to rest on his shoulder. The feeling of you leaking all over him caused Quinn to cry out, his release coating your walls white as he nipped at your neck to muffle his sounds. 

Your connected bodies stayed limp, heavy breathing echoing off the walls as you both came to. You were the first to move, pressing a kiss on his shoulder before tilting your head to the side to get a look at him. 

Quinn’s eyes stayed shut, chest heaving as calmed himself down, his body feeling at ease for the first time in 24 hours. 

“Relaxed?” You asked, leaning up so you could look at his face properly.

He blinked his eyes open to meet yours, “Definitely. We should really do that after every game.”

You laughed softly, pressing a loving kiss on his lips that he gladly reciprocated, “If it makes you feel better.”

[satorella]

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰”

“Y’know you have to go back to Germany eventually, right?” You said while lying on 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫’𝐬 chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He sighs, dragging a finger up and down your spine. “I know, Liebchen [darling/sweetheart].” He pauses before continuing, “…I hate leaving you...” You had no response. You couldn’t tell him to just up and drop his career for you. Not that you would ever make him, or let him, do that in the first place. Soccer was all he knew, before you. And you were understanding of that. “Come with me.” He breaks the silence. You lifted your head up off his chest and gave him a confused look. “Micha, you know I can’t.” “Why not? You’re not even happy here in your own country.” He made a good point.

“So, what? Just drop everything, sell my house, my car, leave my friends and family, my life behind?” You were pacing around your room now, while he was still relaxed on your bed, his private area only being covered by the thin blanket. He was casually just flipping through the novel you were currently into. “Ja.” [Yes.] You stopped and glared at him. “Babe, this is serious. Do you realize what you’re asking of me?” “Mhm.” Your eye twitched at his nonchalance. He snaps your book shut and finally looks up at you. “I’ll take care of you. What was that thing you would always say? That you’re ‘meant to be a passenger princess’ or whatever? Well, now you can be.” He shrugs. “For the record, I only said that once or twice!” You look away sheepishly. He couldn’t help but smirk at your expression. “Riiiight.” He replied sarcastically, sitting up on the edge of your bed. He pulled the blanket off, exposing himself and patted his thigh, beckoning you to come. You practically melted at the gorgeous, naked sight of him and walked over. He grabbed your waist and pulled you in between his legs, “Come on, Engel [Angel].” His voice was soft. “And what about when you leave for games? I’ll be alone again, but in a foreign country.” You slightly pouted, playing with the blue ends of his hair. He shrugged again, “You will come with me to my games too. So einfach ist das.” [It’s that simple.] It wasn’t a bad idea.

You did love watching him play. You even got too into it at times.

He remembered one time when he’d been shoved and landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. As he laid there on the field, trying to get his breath back, he looked up into the stands and saw you screaming at the top of your lungs at the ref, almost about to climb over the railing to give the other player a piece of your mind. Thankfully, Ness was benched during that half of the game and was able to calm you down before security came. It turned him on… how feral you got for him…

He dicked you down so good that night.

He pulled you even closer so that you were straddling him now, his hands making their way under your robe and slowly up your sides. “S-So… you realize… you’re basically asking me to move in with you, right?” You clarified. His hands slowly moved up higher, thumbs lightly tracing circles on your bare skin. “That’s the general idea, ja.” He kept talking as if all this was no big deal. But now that you think about it, it would have happened eventually… so. He hummed as he gently cupped your breasts, taking your now hardening nubs between his index and middle finger. You slightly threw your head back, enjoying his touch. He grabbed ahold of your hips as you started to rock against him, his grip becoming a bit rougher as he started to guide your movements. He leaned in, pressing his lips against you; starting from your shoulder and making his way up to your neck. “M-Micha… we… we still need to discuss this…” You bit your bottom lip, trying to stay focused. “No more talking. Just fucking.” His voice was low and demanding; once bright blue eyes, now dark. “Sag einfach ja.” [Just say yes.] He whispers. You let out a content sigh. He really knew how to make you loosen up, didn’t he?

Tsk.

He undid the knot on your robe and let it slip off of you. A shiver ran through you as the cool air hit your skin, along with his touch. You moaned out a “yes” just as you sunk down onto his hard cock. You guys may actively fuck like rabbits, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his larger size. He gave you a second to adjust, before he wrapped your legs around his waist and stood up to place you on the edge of your vanity. “Ah! B-Babe! My makeup!” You whimpered as his hard thrusts caused all your things to topple over. He grabs your chin and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss to stop you from talking.

“I’ll buy you more in Germany.” He grunts.

© 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE BLUE OF THE SKY MUST HAVE BEEN MY IMAGINATION ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru can’t take your grief away. but on days when you feel as if it’s swallowing you whole, pulling you underwater, he’ll be there to reach a hand out.

word count; 10.9k 

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (gn prns are used, but gojo calls you sweet girl and princess), depictions of grief/allusions to death (reader mourns their dead best friend), hurt/comfort (heavy on both), fluffy towards the end, satoru is a good partner <3, stsg subtext if you squint, switching povs, reader is implied to be a non-sorcerer!!

a/n; i’ve always loved the idea of gojo being with a reader who also lost their best friend/other half, so this is just me playing around with that concept :3 losing a soulmate and finding a new one through the loss of that thread must feel really meaningful, right? + i’m also dedicating this piece to @neptuneblue my precious bday girl <33 i added an extra dose of devotion, flower symbolism and greek mytho refs just for you!! (pretty dividers by @/saradika-graphics <33)

a pang of sorrow.

as your consciousness begins to unfurl, cruelly torn apart from the realm of dreams, the sensation hits you like a hammer to a nail. your eyes flutter open, and your muddled mind adjusts to the soft light dyeing your bedroom a mellow gold — patches of sunlight splattering on the bed and warming up your skin, illuminating your features. gentle and soothing.

almost as if trying to coax you back to sleep; trying to protect you from something you don’t quite understand. just close your eyes, your body whispers, your mind shushes. don’t think about anything at all. 

but you don’t listen. 

part of you knows it’s a mistake. trying to identify the source of your sadness usually only makes your heart feel more tangled up — but you get the sense that this particular sorrow is one you should never, ever let go of. so you rest against the mattress, focus on the rise and fall of your chest, and simply feel it out. 

it’s a strange sensation. blooming like a flower, in the back of your brain, expanding at an alarming rate — seeping into your bloodstream, soaking the sheets beneath you with something dark and gritty, something that sends shivers down your spine. an acute sensation that something is wrong. 

that something has been wrong. for a very long time.

(and then it hits you.)

— ah.

an intake of breath. the open air has been warmed up by caring sunrays, bouncing off the glass of the windows. it tastes like dust and daydreams.

it’s today, isn’t it?

the flower in the back of your brain keeps unfurling, leaving you with a certain ache you can’t get rid of. a stain you can never, ever rinse away — and the sun’s comforting embrace does nothing to quell its weight.

what a shame, you think, gazing out at the blue of the sky. the weather is so lovely today…

something tickles your cheek. it snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts; and this time, you don’t need to feel it out to know what it is. you’re already well aware. your brain knows, your body, every string of your heartbeat.

a strand of white hair. ghosting over your cheek, causing you to stir. 

two big arms are looped around your midriff, heavy and slumbering, practically immovable. you’ve tried to peel them off more times than you can count, but they just won’t budge — if anything, that only makes him cling to you tighter. subconsciously or otherwise. 

(you suspect it’s the latter, on most days.)

as always, you’re pressed up against him, close as can be. completely enveloped by his scent and body warmth, strawberries and stardust, cocooned in the safety his touch brings you — like a big, weighted blanket. or maybe more like a clingy dog.

and, despite everything… it manages to cheer you up a little. doing what the delicate caress of sunlight couldn’t. just feeling him close is enough for the corners of your lips to curl up, a warmth trying to take root in your hollowed out chest; feeling his heart beat against your own, in steady motions.

satoru. your very own personal sun.

he’s admittedly cute like this, soft little breaths slipping from his parted lips, quiet snores that he’d deny if you ever brought them up — his jaw resting contentedly on the top of your head. it’s sweet. he’s sweet. but the feeling of his hair tickling your skin is a little insufferable.

insufferable, but still somehow so endearing. 

(you’ll probably always find him endearing, no matter what he does. maybe you should feel embarrassed.)

when you crane your neck, glancing up at the man in question — your breath hitches. halts, in the back of your throat. afraid to come too close. 

satoru is always pretty, but there’s something so serene about the way he looks in the morning. before he has a chance to wake up, cover up, make himself seem bigger than he is. right now, he looks so unguarded; so sleepy and pretty and comfortable. specks of sunlight scatter across that pretty face of his, like little freckles, caressing his skin with a heavenly glow. 

it really is such a shame. the sun is shining brightly, waving hello to the newly-awakened city, and your own personal sun is right by your side. snuggled up with you, and looking prettier than ever. 

but neither of those blessings are enough to change the inevitability of what day it is, today. you feel a little bad; but you know what you have to do. 

just to see the limitations, you squirm away — or try to. you don’t even move an inch. satoru’s got you trapped, caged in by his strong arms, like he’s making sure to protect you even in his dreams. a big, overprotective bear.

wanting not to rouse him from his peaceful slumber, you can’t bring yourself to make much of an effort, either. your hands travel down to the expanse of his arms, wrapped around your midriff, gentle and light as you try to tug them off. but he won’t relent so easily — the moment you succeed even slightly, those insistent arms fall back in position. only trapping you further. 

after your fifth attempt bears no fruit, satoru lets out a low groan; shifting closer, and hugging you just a little tighter. muttering under his breath.

so you resort to a different tactic.

when you finally get a proper look at him, craning your neck as far as you can, your eyes soften. his expression makes your heart melt; sleepy and snug, and just a tad annoyed. because of your numerous escape attempts, no doubt. 

he’s so beautiful it hurts. just a little, just to look at him, just to map out every contour of his angelic face. 

so you feel a little guilty. you really don’t want to wake him up, when he so rarely gets to sleep in like this — and he’s been working so hard, lately. doing his usual sorcerer thing, that he never lets you know too much about. the guilt seeps into your bones, growing deeper with every second spent etching his soft expression into your memory, knowing just how tired he must be.

it’s not like you really have a choice, though.

leaning closer, so close you can hear his heartbeat if you strain your ears enough, you put your lips against his skin. he smells like strawberries, from the shampoo he always steals from you, and he’s pleasantly warm. like a confectionary.

a moment passes. you drag it out as long as you can, indulging in the sweet fragrance.

then you begin trailing kisses up his jaw, ghosting over his skin. soft little butterflies, fluttering from his jaw to his cheekbone.. once you get close enough to see the way his eyelashes flutter, and he stirs ever so slightly, you lean in to whisper in his ear.

”satoru,” you murmur. ”just need to go to the bathroom. can you let go for a little bit, please?” 

you try your best to speak as quietly as you can, not wanting to disturb him too much — but you can tell he hears you, even in the state he’s in. all tuckered out, his muddled mind still registering the sound of your voice, how you move your lips to form sounds. a lullaby to his sleep-ridden brain.

bringing a hand up to his forehead, you brush his bangs away with palpable tenderness, leaving a kiss against his forehead. satoru stirs, again; letting out a sleepy noise somewhere between a groan, a sigh, and a whine. squeezing his eyes shut.

”honey,” you coo, hoping the term of endearment will get his attention. ”let go, please? i’ll be quick.”

satoru’s eyes blink open, slowly, like the shutter of a camera. you wish you could take a picture of him, right now — in all his angelic glory, painted over with warm colours and tangled up in freshly washed bedsheets. 

he takes a moment to adjust, unaccustomed to the bright morning light of your bedroom, face scrunching up — then his gaze falls on you.

and his heartbeat picks up.

you’re looking up at him so sweetly, fingers reaching out to cup his cheek, smooth skin against his own. the cerulean of his eyes flutter shut once more, as he nuzzles into your palm; moving one of his arms from your waist, just so he can place his palm over yours, where it rests against his skin. absentminded.

a smile crawls up to your lips. 

”… mm,” is all he manages, an incoherent little mumble. you make another attempt at getting away, only one of his arms caging you in now, but it still doesn’t work. the moment he feels you even try, he tugs you even closer. arm keeping you nice and safe in his embrace. 

satoru makes sure that his palm is still resting over yours when he leans forward, snuggles further into your side. nuzzling into your neck, pressing his lips against your collarbone, muffling a low whine.

”stay,” he murmurs, sleepy and upset, and you almost give in. he’s still too tired to really register what’s happening, only that you’re trying to leave him. 

it makes your chest ache.

a soft sigh leaves your lips. ah, this really is too cruel. how are you supposed to ever leave his embrace when he’s acting like this?

”satoru…” your free hand finds its way to his hair, carding through the pure white strands, and he practically purrs. ”just gotta go to the bathroom. i’ll be back, okay? i’ll hurry.”

another incoherent mumble. he doesn’t move, doesn’t even attempt to. still kissing your collarbone, content to have you run your fingers through his soft locks.

and you feel awful, you do — but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

as you feel him slowly, gradually fall back asleep under your caring touches… you opt to make your move. this time, you’re a little rougher — tugging his arm off and squirming away before he can think to stop you. it’s hard not to feel guilty, especially with the whine satoru lets out, arms blindly reaching out towards you — to no avail. you’re sure the loss of body warmth hits him just as hard as it does you.

an urgent voice inside your chest begs you to soothe him, to console him. seeing the little pout on his pretty lips, the furrow of his brow. 

so you lean over, carefully, cupping his cheek to leave a soft kiss against his forehead. a silent apology. ”i’ll be back soon, toru. go back to sleep, okay?” you hope he feels your love, in the action, in the words. even if he’s not really conscious enough to properly respond. 

just in case he doesn’t, you state your feelings more transparently. thumb caressing his cheekbone, as a whisper flows from out your lips: ”i love you.”

maybe it’s just your imagination, or a coincidence, but you swear he settles down a little after that. succumbing to the needs of his sleepy brain, still a little groggy and frustrated; but soothed enough to rest easy. so far, so good. caught up with thoughts of satoru, and how tiny he looks all alone in the big bed, your brain momentarily forgets about the sorrow. 

but the moment you step out of the bedroom, it’s there to greet you again. creeping up on you — a subtle, gentle kind of shock. almost kind. but hollow and cold, like the temperature of the room dropped, your almost-smile fading like a piece of paper blown away by the wind.

and suddenly, you remember what day it is. you remember what you’re supposed to be doing.

as you brew your morning cup of coffee, trying to distract yourself with the purring of the espresso machine in front of you, you find your thoughts drifting back to satoru. hoping he’ll manage to stay asleep, despite your interference — it’s his first day off in a while. he needs to rest. 

… and you don’t really know if you could deal with him, if he were to wake up and locate you right now. you can imagine what he’d say, what his expression would be like; and you can imagine the exact moment he’d realize that something is wrong, how easily he’d be able to squeeze the answers out of you. you’re weak to satoru. you’d tell him immediately, just to get him to stop frowning that subtle way he always does when he’s worried but doesn’t want you to know. 

which is exactly why this is your only option. sneaking away while he’s asleep, blissfully unaware, even if the guilt eats at your heart. you suppose it’s a welcome distraction. 

(today was going to feel awful, one way or another.)

everything feels a little like a struggle; putting your coat on, stepping into your shoes, making sure you have everything you need. and then, lastly, the note. satoru leaves them for you fairly often, on days he has to go to work early and doesn’t want to wake you, before late night missions and sudden workloads. when the reverse is true, you do the same. just something simple, a little act of love. 

i’ll be back around midnight. don’t wait up for me, okay? 

have a good day. :) 

don’t eat my portion of the kikufuku! i know you’re thinking about it.

i love you. <3

… usually, leaving a little note behind for him to find would make your heart feel light. but today, it’s not nearly as fun. you try your best to sound lighthearted; wholly aware of how ominous the contents still end up sounding.

good morning, satoru ♡  i’m sorry for waking you up before :( and for leaving without saying anything. i have an important errand to run, so i’ll be gone for a while. i’ll make sure i’m back before the sun sets, so just be patient, okay? i know you’re probably really mad, but don’t be too angry with me when i get back, please? i’ll buy you something sweet omw back!! ^^ that’s all, i think. i know how this sounds, but don’t worry. i’ll be back before you know it.  have a good day, alright? enjoy your day off!!  i love you ♡ :)

in all honesty, it’s a little mean. telling satoru not to worry about you is like telling the sun not to shine. he’s confident when he’s with you, thoroughly assured of his ability to protect you… but when you’re out of his sight, you think he gets a little anxious. even if he’s awfully good at hiding it.

still, there’s nothing else to do. you swallow the guilt, stick the note to the fridge, and step over the threshold. out into the real world, the cold world, the empty world. as the sun envelops you, and a spring breeze enters your lungs — that acute awareness strangling you only seems to grow deeper.

everything finally dawns on you, all at once. and it’s impossible to shake away that suffocating feeling —

the feeling that something is wrong.

(that something has been wrong. for a very, very long time.)

the cemetery is empty, this year.

you suspect the glaring sun has something to do with it. blinding you, casting a bright glow over the tombs of the dead, entirely out of place. no one wants to do their mourning in this kind of weather. it just feels wrong. 

that hasn’t stopped you, though. you wonder if it’s due to a love so strong it disregards the weather, or a blatant disregard towards the feelings of the dead. 

maybe both. probably both.

the solitude creeps up on you like a hungry ghost, but it’s a blessing in flimsy disguise; right now, you’re all alone. and today, that’s all you truly need. a feeling almost like stepping into another realm, one with no connection to things like reality or time. it’s just you, and the graves, and the ghosts. there’s no one here to see you cry, no one who can pretend like they understand. no one to witness the price you’ve paid for loving so fervently. 

slowly, you make your way across the cemetery. sparing a glance towards the city skyline, before fixing your eyes on one particular tomb. 

when you crouch down, the paper bag in your hand hits the ground with a soft crunch. all flowers are still in perfect condition; asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hyacinths. you cradle them tightly, pressed against your chest, feeding off your weakening heartbeat — your eyes moving, flitting over the grave, the name engraved into the stone. putting the bouquet down.

(you really hope she’ll like them.)

it’s surreal. to look at an object and still see a person, to touch the petals of a flower and remember the softness of human skin. you never quite got used to it. all you ever seem to do is lean into the strangeness of it all, the kick you get out of sullying something untainted. trying to remember something that should be left in the past. you can’t leave her alone.

”hi,” you whisper, so low you barely hear it. ”i’m back.”

with a sigh, you settle down on the ground; sitting cross-legged, getting comfortable. this’ll take a while.

the cherry trees are beautiful, this year. they always are; always in full bloom, almost mocking in their beauty. with their silky petals, fallen all across the ground, dyeing everything in shades of white and pink. as your eyes trail across the flowery landscape, basking in the sickening solitude of it all, that sense of otherworldliness deepens. you try not to look at the blinding sun, try not to think of the man it reminds you of. 

it’s just you, here. just you, the graves, and the cherry trees. just you, and her, and your sorrow.

for a moment, you delude yourself into thinking that it’s true — you’re in a different world, now. one that settles on the wrong axis and paints itself with the wrong colours. one that stopped spinning long ago.

(the tender stirring of your heartstrings never fades away. it sounds a little like a hymn.)

all you can think of is her. all you can feel is the grief. that hole in your heart, extending, extending, extending. it hasn’t stopped since she left. a black hole of a feeling. it’s been years since it opened, years of trying to patch it up, clawing your way to a state of normalcy. living with a piece of you carved out. 

losing your other half feels a little bit like dying in reverse. having to keep going with half your shadow stripped away, out of the tunnel, into the light. even if you’d much rather fall to the bottom, with your silhouette still intact.

(throughout the years, you’ve come to a single conclusion; orpheus had it so much worse than eurydice.)

despite everything, a smile curls its way onto your lips. something soft and fleeting, that blossoms within your irises, in between your ribs. she doesn’t answer you, as always, so you keep talking — anything to still feel connected to her. anything to fill the silence of the cemetery, the numbed out grief inside your chest. 

”let’s see. where should i start…” is muttered into the open air, followed by a moment of silence, as you think of what to say. ”i’m still with satoru, if you were wondering. everything is still… good. more than good. he’s a really, really good guy.”

a moment passes.

”i hope you’re doing okay. wherever you are. if you’re anywhere at all,” soft air leaves your lungs, a little slip of a breath, but it’s shallow, like your chest doesn’t really care if you miss an inhale or not. like just giving and never getting could keep you alive. ”i miss you. a lot. i wish i could see you…” 

a hum buzzes in your throat. you try not to think of her hair, the scent of her perfume. the flower in the back of your brain has grown bigger, you notice. unfurling at an agonizing pace, blossoming the way a wound heals. throat burning, heart aching, you swallow.

(the hole inside your heart feels jagged, like cracked glass seeping into your pancreas. a deep, internal ache.)

when you speak, your voice comes out small. nothing more than a whisper, a flurry of air. there’s an honesty to the words that makes it hard to breathe.

”… everything is so boring without you around.”

a shuddering breath leaves your wobbling lips, and you know it’s coming. you make a halfhearted attempt to keep your voice from breaking, but it doesn’t work. your eyes are already glassy, wetness spilling out, tears getting stuck in your lashes, dripping down your cheeks — you manage a meek chuckle, but it comes out sounding more like a broken whimper.

try as you might, her figure never leaves your mind. it’s all you can think of, ingrained into your retinas; a single silhouette, walking ahead of you. a sweet girl, maybe a little mean, but still so gentle. your very own moon, soothing in her confidence. every step she took was like a landmark for you to follow. 

if you strain yourself a little, she appears before you — a polaroid dug out from the depths of your memories. 

in almost microscopic detail, you can see her smile, the way the light reflected off her teeth. you can feel her hand, the way her fingers curled so perfectly around yours. you can see her, hear her, the colour of her eyes, the sound of her laughter. a moonlit girl, who left you all alone — walking ahead of you, always ahead, leaving you behind to catch up. bringing whispered secrets with her, soft bouts of laughter.

your one and only best friend.

(it’s not fair.)

something in you urges you to keep talking. it’s all you have it in you to do. and maybe it’s weird, maybe you’re crazy — to talk to someone who can’t hear you. less than a ghost.

but it’s nice. it’s comforting. it reminds you of the voicemails you would leave each other, on weekends you were both too busy to speak on the phone. her voice always came out a little fractured, from her shitty nuclear bomb of an iphone, but you strained your ears to hear every word she said. you always, always did.

(it was nice.)

so you continue. you tell her everything, and then some more. talking and talking, about you, about her, about satoru. by the time you’re done, the sun is getting ready to descend, painting the sky a bleeding orange. your voice has gone hoarse, eyes red and puffy from all the crying, but your chest feels a little lighter — the hole inside it a little more narrow, not as broken and split and jagged.

”so, well,” you clear your throat, finishing your one-sided conversation; smiling weakly. ”i guess what i’m trying to say is… i loved you this year, too.”

the smile on your face is tearstained, feeble, as you get back up on shaky legs, brushing petals and dust off the fabric of your pants. stretching your arms out.

”i’ll be back,” you promise, the same oath every single year. ”wait for me.”

one last look at her grave is all you allow yourself; soaking in the peace and quiet, the creamsicle sky framing it. parting with this sight always feels so strange. crossing the boundary, going back to a world where she’s dead and gone. discarding her so callously.

but you can’t keep satoru waiting, anymore. you promised him you’d get back before sunset.

when you begin your descent down the hill, you can’t help but look back — just one look, just in case she’s standing there. she never is, but you still spare a glance over your shoulder, every single time. you like to think of it as an act of love. 

it doesn’t feel as all-consuming, anymore, that exhausting numbness. the sorrow is still there, the grief is still there; but it’s a little less unendurable. and you feel that you can return to reality for another year, until you need to come back and cry some more.

for now, you can manage. 

(but you still have one big obstacle to deal with.)

it doesn’t take long to get back. 

as your fingers curl around the doorknob, you mentally prepare yourself. taking a shaky inhale. satoru definitely won’t be happy — you can already picture the frown he’ll have on his face, his crossed arms. the neverending flurry of huffs and scoffs. 

you’ll just have to bear with it. exhaustion crawls beneath your skin, and everything feels a little too heavy for you to bear without breaking. normally, you’d head straight to bed, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to coax the day into ending early. but you can’t pull something like that, today. not when satoru will be there to see it. you can only hope he’ll be understanding — even without knowing anything. 

(such an unfair thing to ask of a person.)

the door creaks open, and you step inside.

a particular scent engulfs you, as soon as you cross the threshold to your apartment. a blend between sunlight, and the fabric softener he likes, and freshly squeezed fruit juice. and, of course, that certain aroma you can only ever describe as home. 

it smells like satoru, too. then again, maybe that’s just the scent of home in disguise.

finally, the weight around your shoulders starts to crumble. it’s a little easier to breathe, like this, a weighted blanket of comfort around you. something sweet and soothing and smelling lightly of rosemary. peace — or as close to it as you can get, today.

a sigh pushes past your lips; heavy with fatigue. dripping with relief.

(you’re home.)

”well, well, well.”

— a moment passes.

the sudden noise makes you freeze up, eyes wide and alert, still in the process of kicking off your shoes. internally wincing, bracing yourself. here it comes. 

slowly, hesitantly, you raise your gaze from the floor — locking eyes with a certain man. 

satoru looks displeased, to say the very least. arms crossed, with a cute little frown playing on his lips. just as you imagined. you can’t see his eyes from behind his shades — but if you could, you’re sure they’d carry a sense of betrayal. 

”… hi, sato —”

”i can’t believe you.”

an amused breath slips from your lips. amused, but sheepish, awfully nervous. like you just came home to an angry wife, after promising to be back early from work. and satoru only huffs, staring you down like you just killed his dog.

”betrayed. deserted. by my own partner,” he scoffs, shaking his head in obvious disapproval. ”what, are you done with your errand now?”

”satoru,” you try, voice falling into a melodic lilt. smiling up at him, inching closer. to your surprise, he takes a step back.

(you must have really upset him.)

a sad smile. you exhale, wringing your hands together. ”… i’m sorry i left you.”

”you should be,” he pouts, voice wounded to a degree that must be at least a little bit exaggerated. ”and you said you were just going to the bathroom.”

you let out a small, guilty chuckle. he remembers that? ”i’m really sorry. i left you the note, though…”

”right. the note,” satoru scoffs, like the word itself is personally offensive. ”d’you know how awful i felt, seeing that first thing in the morning? no sign of you anywhere, and some silly note is supposed to make up for it?” 

oh, he’s being so unfair. looking so disgruntled, tapping the pads of his fingers on his elbow. you wish you could take him seriously, but he’s way too endearing. and he won’t let you get a word in.

”i was so worried. i thought someone had kidnapped you.” satoru doesn’t let up, even when an amused chuckle leaves your lips. ”you turned your phone off and everything! what were you even doing?”

”i know, i know. i’m sorry, really. i am!” you hang up your coat, brushing off a leftover cherry petal. ”it was a personal thing, like i said. but i dealt with everything now, so it’s fine.”

”that’s not an answer,” he mutters. ”you’re really not gonna tell me?”

a pang of guilt hits your heart. 

”… sorry,” you murmur, low and feeble. avoiding his gaze. ”some other time, okay?”

satoru only lets out another spiteful scoff, arms still crossed. you wonder if he’s holding himself back from hugging you, or if he really is so angry with you that he doesn’t want you near him.

”look, toru —” you try, again, molding your voice into something soft and sweet. ”i’m really sorry. i won’t do it again, okay? and i’ll make it up to you.” 

you hold up a paper bag, waving it slightly to get his attention. you can tell that it works. ”look. i got you your favorite pastries.”

satoru’s frown remains, despite the sweet treats. he must be angrier than you thought. ”really? you think some cookies will be enough to make things right?” 

so stubborn. you suppose it’s warranted, though. you know how satoru is — if you’re not by his side for an extended amount of time, he starts to mope. after a while, he starts feeling lonely. 

and then, finally, he starts to get anxious.

he’s told you, before, how much these days mean to him; days when the two of you can stay in and relax, and watch silly tv shows, and cook dinner, and fall asleep in each other’s arms. days when he can just be your toru, and no one else. your personal splotch of sunshine.

of course he’d be upset. 

(you really are cruel, keeping him in the dark like this.)

seeing him so grumpy makes you oddly happy, though. just his presence makes that suffocating feeling in your chest feel a little more bearable, easing the burden on your restless heart. he makes you feel vulnerable.

with a thud, the paper bag drops to the floor. you open up your arms, like a blooming flower, a sheepish little smile on your lips. ”i missed you?”

the words are tinted with honey, sweet and warm, but also kind of sad. you tilt your head to the right, slightly, a silent invitation into your arms. 

and for a second, something unreadable sparks in satoru’s eyes, hidden behind the black of his shades. you still notice it, though — almost as if his whole face pauses for a second. in clever contemplation. 

you wonder if he noticed it, then. your puffy eyes, the sagging of your shoulders; the fatigue seeping off you, sticking to your skin.

you wonder if that’s why he relents, finally, stepping closer to bring you in for a hug.

the moment your head meets his chest, you’re enveloped by his scent. strawberries and fresh laundry, and a hint of expensive cologne. home.

a sigh leaves your lips, deep and content. you clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, melting into the embrace — and satoru can’t really bring himself to be too angry, anymore.

”… well, i guess i could forgive you,” he muses, arms securely wrapped around your waist. you’re sure he’s trying to sound stern, but it’s not very convincing when he’s snuggling into you like this. ”but you’re gonna have to make it up to me. alright?”

”right, right,” you exhale, smiling. just thankful to be close to him, to feel that he’s there. ”thank you, oh benevolent satoru.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you feel it; the low tremor running through his chest, rumbling, as he rests his jaw on your head. ”careful with the snark. if you want to be forgiven you gotta be nice to me, sweetheart.”

you let out a breath, somewhere in between an exasperated sigh and a fond giggle. he’s relieved to hear the sound. satoru prides himself on being observant — being able to read someone with a single glance, notice if something’s off almost instantly. and he’s especially proud of his observant nature when it comes to you. 

as clear as the blue of the sky, or the brightness of the sun, satoru can tell that something’s wrong. he noticed it the moment he read that note, the moment you stepped back into the house, the moment he saw your meek little face staring up at him — desperate for comfort. as if one wrong touch could have you falling apart, shattering, like a flimsy sheet of glass.

whatever you were doing, today… it couldn’t have been pleasant. 

he’s curious, of course, and still more than a little irked at your escape — but that can wait until later. satoru can be patient, when he wants to be. at the very least, he can be patient when it comes to you. 

(for now, he’ll focus on cheering you up.)

nuzzling further into his chest, you take a deep breath, basking in the familiar sensation creeping up on you. satoru makes a halfhearted attempt to stifle his coo. 

”aw, look at you,” he grins, swaying you softly side to side. ”so clingy. you really did miss me, huh?”

a huff leaves your lips. ”shut up,” you mumble, feeling a heat rush to your cheeks. 

”be nice, baby.”

…

and you relent. the least you could do is indulge him, even if you know he’ll abuse the opportunity fully. you part your lips, and speak.

”… of course i missed you.”

”there we go,” a smug grin blooms on his lips. he rubs your back, absentmindedly. gosh, he’s infuriating. 

(you love him so much you want to sneak into his chest and gobble up his heart.)

after a moment, he pulls away from you. just a little, just to get a good look at your face. drinking you in, with his blue-soaked gaze, as your eyelashes flutter. he reaches out, the pads of his fingers meeting your soft skin — cupping your cheek with his palm, big and warm, cradling you the way a believer would cup a mouthful of holy water. 

then he leans in to kiss you. giving you no time to prepare, drawing you in, drawn to your touch, inexplicably. helplessly. 

it’s a chaste kiss, light and heart-fluttering. his lips are soft, tasting lightly of cherry chapstick. when you exhale against them, you feel him smile, almost smirking. a blissful little breath that he drinks in, hands squeezing softly at your hips, bringing you just a little closer. rubbing his nose against yours. 

his tongue flits out to lick at your bottom lip, a teasing flick, and then he’s pulling back — still close enough to make you flustered. 

”missed you too,” he purrs, voice deep and raspy, rumbling through his chest. ”thought i was gonna go insane without you.”

with a flushed face, and something akin to a pout playing at your lips, you avoid his gaze. you’re sure that if you looked now, you’d see those pools of blue peeking out beneath the black glass. 

satoru leans in to kiss you, again. giving you no warning, as always; unable to resist the temptation. 

(you really are too cute for your own good.)

it’s a little intoxicating, the way he breathes you in. sweet and warm, like he’s trying to say i love you without using any words, with just his lips and lungs and tongue. he’s a little too good at it — someone so inexperienced has no business being so naturally good at kissing. it’s a little irritating.

but that’s satoru, for you. always surpassing your expectations; like there’s no limit to his love.

satoru finally decides to spare you, satisfied with the tiny squeak that bubbles up in your throat when he nibbles at the flesh of your lip. he’ll demand more kisses later — preferably when you’re seated in his lap, and he can properly turn you into a boneless puddle.

”alright,” he chirps, a melodic lilt to his voice, stepping back with a palm still on your hip. his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric. ”let’s see those pastries.”

”oh. right…” you’re quick to lean down, snatching the paper bag from where it lays on the floor. passing it to satoru, so he can look into it.

seemingly satisfied with the contents, he lets out a contemplative hum. ”okay, this is a start,” he nods, decisive. ”c’mon. let’s eat ’em by the couch.”

…

you narrow your eyes, suddenly suspicious. ”… hang on. have you had lunch yet?”

satoru gapes, as if in disbelief, barking out a soft, offended little scoff. ”really? you’re doubting me?”

”that’s not a yes.”

a pout forms on his lips. ”of course i have. who do you think i am?”

”oh yeah?” you give him a smile, a tiny raise of your brow. something in you knows that he’s lying. ”what’d you eat?”

”what is this, an interrogation?” he huffs. ”i’m a grown man. i can eat what i want!”

”not when i’m around,” you deadpan. then sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. ”satoru, you can’t eat a bunch of sweets for lunch. it’s not good for you.”

”so you can abandon me for hours, but i can’t have a little treat every once in a while? is that how it is?”

a roll of your eyes. you shift on your feet, letting out a low groan, and satoru has to reel in his growing smile. ”alright, drama queen. i get your point.” a moment passes, and you hum. ”… want me to make you something? or should i just order take out?”

satoru pouts, again, like a big huffy dog. ”babe, don’t you trust me? i’ve already had lunch. i got yakitori from the place downtown!”

”oh? you mean the yakitori place that’s closed on sundays?”

”huh. that’s weird,” he muses, smiling faintly. ”must’ve been some other place, then.” 

you give him an unamused look. he returns it with a vague upturn of his lips, completely unbothered.

a sigh.

”… i’ll order take out.”

”whatever you say, princess.”

you stifle a smile, and go digging for your phone, feeling your own stomach rumble a bit. in the midst of the banter, you almost forget what day it is. 

and satoru feels satisfied. you look a little more alive, now. a little more anchored to reality. as you call the takeout place of your choosing, he can even spot some earnest light in your eyes. he’s not exactly worried — but you did seem oddly stiff, just now, a little blurry. faded at the corners, like a dusty old polaroid.

and if there’s one thing satoru gojo can’t do, it’s leave you alone when he knows you need him.

satoru’s punishment for leaving him alone so long is swift and severe.

you’re seated in his lap, caged in by his long arms, and this time you know there’s no escaping them. even if you could, you wouldn’t dare to try. being caged in like this, warm and comfy in satoru’s embrace, isn’t really much of a punishment at all — even the kisses he has you press against his lips and jaw aren’t unwelcome, albeit a little embarrassing. he’s a merciful tyrant. 

but you can’t help but feel like you’re deceiving him. 

you still feel so lost, somehow, a murky sensation you can’t seem to shake off. and you know it’s because of your brain, because of the correlations it’s stitching and crocheting between today and her and you. 

it simply won’t let you be happy, today. 

you can’t help but feel a little greedy. ungrateful. even though you have your precious sun with you, even though you should feel warm, her absence hangs heavy on you. her continued absence, in your world, your life. a chill that rots your bones from the inside out. you know you’ll never get over it. you don’t ever want to get over it. it’s tough, though. 

you should be happy, snuggled into your boyfriend’s arms, but her sorrow clings to you. you should be mourning, but his arms feel so secure like this. no reaction feels right, no emotion warranted.

(you really are greedy, aren’t you?)

satoru chuckles, a sound both delighted and amused — snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. as always.

you’re watching a movie he likes, some cheesy old romcom. you really, really don’t understand his taste. but his commentary is always entertaining. judging by his cute little noise, someone just said something funny — funny to his standards, anyhow.

it’s too tempting to resist. you crane your neck, glancing up at him, wanting to see his face. from this angle, you can spot the blue of his eyes — beautiful and bright, flickering with splotches of pure white. they flit down to meet your own, gleaming with amusement.

”do i have something on my face, baby?” satoru chuckles, leaning forward to get a better look at you, all tucked against his chest. he grins, smooth, handsome; tailor-made to make you flustered. ”you’re staring at me real hard, there.”

(what a tease. 

unfortunately for him, you saw this one coming.)

”nah,” you show off a grin of your own, bubbly and teasing. ”you’re just pretty.”

he blinks. a few seconds passes by.

then a smile breaks out across his face. his eyes crinkle softly at the edges, like little petals, snowy bangs gliding against his skin when he tilts his head.

”oh?” he leans closer, hands still keeping you in place, making sure your gaze stays locked onto his. ”so forward. am i really that irresistible?”

there’s something soft in your eyes, something tender in the way your fingers go to touch his skin. a ghost of a caress, paired with your flimsy smile. you look at him like he hung all the stars in the sky, breathing out an exhale. ”… i wouldn’t go that far.”

”aw, don’t be embarrassed,” he lets out a coo. ”come on — tell me i’m pretty again.”

”you liked that, huh?”

satoru flicks your forehead, no real strength behind it, so soft you barely feel it. there’s a certain reprimanding tilt to his voice, teasing as it is. ”be nice.”

he’s lucky you’re feeling too vulnerable to put up a fight. you turn around, to face him properly, squirming in his hold; reaching out to cup his handsome face.

”pretty boy,” you murmur, running your thumb along the expanse of his cheekbone. satoru grins, and your heart thumps loudly in your chest. you can spot earnest giddiness on his features — such a sucker for praise.

blindly, he searches for your other hand, bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, you notice, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. like every peck is a whispered psalm, a silent worship. but it’s light, it always has been — the weight of his boundless adoration. it’s not the heavy kind of love that gods give, not the one you hear about in stories, that always ends in death. satoru’s love isn’t crushing, and it isn’t suffocating. it’s delicate and careful, soft. it reminds you of how sunshine licks at your skin in the morning.

nothing more or less than one human being’s wholehearted love for another; giggles buzzing against your skin, crinkled eyes and mouthfuls of honey. blissful summer days.

(it reminds you of her, but it’s also something entirely different. something you can only ever make sense of when you think of the sun. when every single corner of your home has been doused in sunshine.)

a moment passes. so, so intimate, unbroken by the grief inside your chest. balm to your fractured heart, smoothing across your jagged edges. satoru leans into your palm, into your touch, relishing in the affection you give him. like a bee to a flower, blooming, wilting.

a nagging need tugs at your heartstrings.

(you want to see him. up close.)

although a little unsure, you reach your hands out, slowly, delicately, like approaching a frightened fawn — eager to remove his shades. he makes no move to stop you, so you assume that it’s okay. his eyes flutter open, when you do, white lashes parting like a bird taking flight; crinkled at the corners, overflowing with warmth. like sunshine streaming in through the curtains of your childhood kitchen. 

your heartbeat stutters at the sight.

all you can do is stare. transfixed, losing yourself in their calming hue, drinking them in. you sigh; a soft, quiet little sound. ”you’re so pretty.”

…

satoru lets out a breath, tinged with laughter. his eyes are teasing, but warm even still. ”… am i, now?”

”mhm. the prettiest.”

he chokes back another chuckle. hoping you won’t notice the slight flush to his ears, the heat on the back of his neck. he’s grown skilled at keeping a poker face, even when you try to fluster him — but it’s harder when you’re not trying, when it comes to you so easily. when your words are honest.

just when he’s about to turn the tables on you, you duck your head under his jaw. nuzzling into the crook of his neck, inhaling his cologne, craving his warmth, knowing how much it grounds you. 

that, and his eyes are just a little too beautiful to stare into for too long. they always see right through you, deep into your soul, into every little nook and cranny of your mind. that undivided attention makes you feel a little meek, like you’re bare and raw before him. like there’s nothing you can hide.

(something in your hollowed-out chest begins to crumble.)

falling silent, you absently fiddle with the hem of satoru’s shirt, resting your forehead against his shoulder. he doesn’t say anything. the room would be silent were it not for that cheesy romcom, still buzzing in the background — you think the main couple just got divorced, again. or did get they married? you can’t really keep track of the plot. you can’t keep track of much at all, right now.

satoru makes you too happy.

so happy you forget what day it is, forget you’re supposed to be mourning. sometimes, you forget she’s even gone at all. as if she’s resting on some summer field, outside of your vision, alive and well. 

but she isn’t. you can’t forget that.

guilt. how long has it been part of your life? you don’t know the answer. you’re not sure you want to know. most of the time, it’s all you can feel. guilt, because you’re sitting here, happy, with the love of your life — the most wonderful person you know. guilt, because you haven’t told him what’s going on, because you don’t trust him enough — even though you’d like to think you just don’t want to burden him. you don’t trust anyone enough to let them glimpse into your decaying chest. you’re afraid of the rot. you’re afraid it’ll mold his hand at the slightest touch.

guilt, guilt, guilt — because you’re lucky enough to meet such wonderful people, over and over again, and never quite manage to deserve them.

(having lost its moon, where does a star find solace?)

a hand begins to stroke your head. the weight is a comfort, reassuring, a jolt of warmth trickling down your spine. for a moment, it’s all you can feel.

(— in the warmth of the sun.)

”sleepy?” he murmurs, low and soft. a little teasing, mostly inquisitive, a calm lull of his tongue.

are you? you didn’t really notice, until now. things are starting to feel a little hazy, aren’t they? you feel comfortable, too comfortable, your body aching for a moment of rest, a chance to shut off. sleep, sleep, sleep. don’t think about anything anymore.

satoru notices your sleepy little breaths, the way you gradually soften under his touch, melt into his arms. so he continues to run his hand over your head, petting you gently — knowing it’ll coax you into resting. he’d like you to stay up and binge shows with him all night, but you seem awfully tired. just this once, he’ll let you sleep — the plot was starting to get boring, anyhow. the sequel’s way better.

”you can rest, baby,” he coos, with a gentle intonation. his voice buzzes in your ear. ”i’ve got you.”

(he’s got you.)

the words make you feel so horribly, awfully safe. you can already feel yourself drifting away. his hand smooths down your hair, and a yawn slips from your lips, and you’re just so, so tired. how nice it would be, for the day to end. to be able to forget, for another year.

yeah. how nice. 

you wonder why you don’t take the opportunity.

maybe it has something to do with satoru. with the way he seems to bring you back to reality so effortlessly, soothes you without even really trying. maybe it’s the way he bares himself in front of you, blue eyes on full display, allowing you to see every single part of him. 

maybe, it makes you want to do the same.

”… satoru?”

your voice sounds meek. tiny, unguarded. the man in question only hums, feeling you slump against his shoulder. ”hm?”

”today…” you trail off, unsure how to proceed. you can only think of a certain girl, a certain moon. the melancholy is almost overbearing; it pushes you over the edge. ”i went to a cemetery.”

satoru doesn’t respond. he gives you space to continue, never once halting the motion of his big hand on your head, smoothing down your hair. you gulp, trying to force your dry throat to make sounds.

”… my best friend is buried there. she died today. a couple years back… so i —” a coldness crawls under your skin, words hollow as they leave your lips.

”… you know.”

”yeah. i figured.”

a blink. your eyelashes flutter, in surprise — you can’t see satoru’s face, with the way you’re pressed up against him, but you still look up.

what tipped him off, you wonder? 

you believe him. satoru has a way of seeing through you, one way or another, always more observant than you give him credit for. he’s tactful, in how he brings it up, and that slumbering maturity he tries to hide comes into view. there’s no judgement in his tone, no pity — only understanding.

”… oh,” is all you can mutter. dumbfounded.

”i’m sorry. about her.”

”don’t be,” you murmur, managing a soft shake of your head. ”i’m — i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i just wanted to go there alone, and… deal with it? i guess.”

after a brief pause, you keep going. feeling so, so small. but satoru holds you so tenderly. a whisper slips past your lips, dripping with longing.

”… you’d have liked her.”

”what was she like?” comes his reply, instantaneous.

…

huh.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. your mind spins in circles, but nothing happens. 

(what was she like?)

”… i really loved her.”

satoru lets out a breath. vaguely amused, but he isn’t smiling. his words have a kindness to them; an understanding, more than anything. ”that’s all, huh?”

a slight intake of breath.

— then you bring yourself to think of her.

you think of her face, how her lips curled up into a smile when you tripped over air, the splotches of sunlight reflecting off her white teeth. you think of her laughter, how it always echoed in your head, how she took your hand in hers when you were too scared to walk ahead alone — taking the first step so you wouldn’t have to. a whole human being, multifaceted, enough traits and quirks to fill the whole night sky.

your moon. your eurydice. the only one who understood you.

you loved her a lot.

”… when i was with her, even sitting around and doing nothing made me happy.” nostalgia seeps into the whisper, like warm honey clogging up your throat, choking you. ”just her being there made every day feel like a good one.”

satoru doesn’t say anything. but he holds you, and he doesn’t let go. even when your voice begins to waver.

”i guess that’s… how i’d describe her.” a small breath. then a smile, even smaller. rueful, but it’s there, and it means everything. ”i’d do anything to have that yesterday back.”

satoru stays silent. 

you’ve spoken about her, before. he knows some things. not a lot. he knows she’s important to you; the person who shaped you into who you are, your very best friend. he tries to picture her, inside his mind.

you let out a tiny sigh, your lungs feeling empty of air. ”… i’m sure you two would have gotten along.”

”yeah,” he hums, palm smoothing down your back. stifling the thought that threatens to sneak into his mind — you wouldn’t have gotten along with him, but i would’ve wanted you to. ”i’m sure we would have.”

it’s a little too sweet to be true. but it makes you happy, just to imagine that kind of reality — the two of them, together. satoru would tease her, and she’d ignore him, hiding a smile behind her palm. she’d warm up to him eventually. they’d bicker over who knew you best, and demand your own verdict — 

you’d smile, not saying a thing.

your voice has gotten a little shaky. it’s scary, opening yourself up for him to see; it feels a little like being sewn open. but you force yourself to keep going. satoru rubs your back through it all, soothingly.

(he’s so, so proud of you.)

”i was thinking…” you trail off, gaze fixed on satoru’s shirt, fingers gripping the smooth fabric. ”maybe, some time in the future — i mean, if you want to — you could… come with me? maybe?” 

silence.

”you don’t have to say yes. but if you do want to —”

”i do.” 

satoru’s voice is absolute. there isn’t any room for doubt; he makes sure of that. ”i’d like to meet her.”

… oh.

it was that easy, huh? 

(you wonder what you could have possibly done to deserve him.)

”… okay,” you mumble, meekly, breath fanning over his skin. ”next year, then.”

satoru glances down at you. curled up against him, nearly sleeping, looking a lot less burdened than before — though there’s still a desperation in the way you lean into his touch, a silent terror, like you could drift away if he doesn’t keep you close. satoru wants to fix it. he wants to run his hands across your skin, stitch the scars life has left you with, even if his touch could never be as gentle as he’d like it to be. he wants to be tender.

but there’s no fixing grief. it lingers, always, no matter how much you try to scrub it away. even if you run a washcloth over your skin until it starts to bleed, the scent still remains. 

and there’s a sickening sense of comfort in the knowledge that it always will.

(there’s no getting rid of him, satoru knows. and deep down, he’s glad that it’s true.)

more than anything else — satoru is content. content in the knowledge that you trust him, that you can bring yourself to open up to him about something so personal. that you chose to tell him, even though he gave you a way out. something about it makes him feel almost overwhelmed with affection. the kind he can’t bear not to show you, the kind that makes him seek you out almost subconsciously; seeking out your touch, your laughter. the smile on your face.

and maybe, just maybe — it makes him want to be a little more open with you, too.

”yeah,” he murmurs, craning his neck to leave a kiss on the crown of your head. ”you can sleep, baby. we’ll talk more about it tomorrow, okay?”

”… i’m sorry for leaving you this morning,” you whisper, suddenly. a little meek. ”i felt really bad.”

satoru chuckles. raspy, an amused little breath. ”you’re forgiven, honey,” he coos. ”just don’t do it again, hm? might break my heart.”

with a yawn, you loop your arms around his neck, nuzzling further into his warmth. fighting the urge to close your eyes. drowsiness washes over you all at once, as if it was waiting for you to get the last of your worries off your chest. ”… i love you.”

”i love you too,” comes his reply, a smile tugging at his lips. ”my sweet girl.”

it’s hard to resist the temptation. almost impossible, with how warm satoru feels, your eyes helplessly fluttering close. you were supposed to stay up with him — you haven’t even finished eating. and you didn’t finish his awful romcom. 

but he runs his hands over your head, and down your back, and it’s simply too hard to withstand the temptation. so you close your eyes, just for a second —

and that’s all it takes.

satoru keeps petting you, softly, until he’s sure you’re asleep, soft little breaths falling from your parted lips, drool slipping down your chin. he’ll forgive you for staining his shirt, just this once. with you in his lap, sound asleep, he feels himself soften — hands running down your back, rubbing circles into your skin. cradling you closer and closer, ensuring that you’re comfortable. taking a few sneaky pictures, that he’ll tease you about tomorrow — 

(though in reality, he just wants to be able to look at them whenever he wants.)

even while eating, romcom flickering on and on, all he can think about is you. how you look so pretty sleeping against him, how you trust him enough to let him see you at your lowest. how you trust him to take care of you, run his fingers across the scars etched into your soul. even if it does no good, even if his touch is clumsy at best — that act of trust alone sets his heart aflutter.

he wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve this happiness.

”well, here we are.”

satoru holds a bouquet of flowers in his arms, putting it down on the grave, crouching down next to you.

a sigh leaves your lips. 

”… this still feels a little surreal,” you admit, sparing a glance at the man to your left. ”sure you’re not a little freaked out?”

”nah. don’t mind me, just do your thing.”

”that’s… easier said than done,” you murmur, arranging the flowers for the grave. asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hydrangeas.

a hum buzzes in his throat. ”well, what do you usually do when you’re here?”

”i… talk to her, i guess…?” you gnaw at your bottom lip, turning your face away. you feel a little awkward, admitting it out loud, but if satoru finds it weird he’s frighteningly good at hiding it.

all he does is take a step back, as if giving space for your words to fit in. respectful, accommodating. so smooth you barely notice it. ”then talk.”

”… i can’t do that with you here.”

”eh? why not?”

”because — i just can’t, okay?” you let out a huff, averting your gaze, shying away from him. ”whatever. i’m just gonna do it in my head. she’ll have to manage.”

satoru turns his head, looking down at the city skyline below you as you clasp your hands together. when he looks back, he sees you mouthing something, no sound coming out — and decides to leave you be.

the grave is well kept. he wonders how many visits you’ve managed to sneak past him, in the years that he’s known you. he wonders if it’s supposed to feel this foreign, being here, staring down at something he knows must mean the world to you. the grave of your very best friend. someone who holds a piece of your heart, a side of you he never got to see. 

he’ll have to make a good first impression.

satoru clasps his hands together, too. and he speaks, silently, with no words; lips pursed in a tight line. 

(hi, there. it’s nice to meet you.)

it’s not like he has no experience of talking to the dead, himself. he’s more than acquainted with one-sided conversations, lonely visions of boys with black hair, men with sad smiles. framed by the setting sun.

so it doesn’t feel too odd. 

satoru talks. about this, about that. he tries to keep it professional. this is important to you, so by nature, it’s important to him. the conversation comes to a close, and he looks at the grave with an unreadable expression — hands still clasped in silent prayer.

(i promise to take care of them.)

a sniffle. 

satoru glances over at you, just as you turn away — trying to hide from him. but he knows. he’ll always, always know when you need him most. 

two strong arms curl around your waist, stabilizing you, anchoring you to earth. ”i’ve got you,” he whispers, and you fall into his embrace. allowing him to pick up the pieces, to put you back together. ”i’ve got you.”

”i —” your voice breaks apart, crumbles into stardust, a shuddering breath that escapes from the back of your throat. there’s nothing to see through your tears. ”i miss her so much.”

satoru cradles you close to his chest, tucking you under his chin. ”i know,” he soothes. your little sobs leave his heart with a bitter feeling, and he wishes he could make them disappear; but he knows you need this. 

when he holds you, something brushes against the fabric of your clothing. the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. something alive, deep within his chest, something for you to ground yourself with. and you know it was intentional, on his part — the decision to press your hearts together, a promise he doesn’t have to find the words for, because you know.

(stay alive for me. i’ll stay alive for you.

when you can’t breathe properly, i’ll be here to do it for you.)

your tears stain his brand-new coat, but he doesn’t care. all he cares about is you, the fact that you’re crying, how to properly comfort you. it’s new to him, all of it, everything about you is just so new and he’s so afraid of messing it all up again —

but he holds you close. murmuring, right by your ear, endless sweet nothings. he waits for you to get it all out of your system, and he doesn’t let you go.

when you finally collect yourself, thoroughly tired out, eyes red and puffy — satoru smiles. it’s brighter than the sun, positively life-envoking. it gives you something to hold on to. he parts his lips.

”thank you for bringing me here.”

a shake of your head. soft, as he thumbs away your tears, one by one. ”thank you for coming with me,” you smile, small as it is, holding onto his hands. feeling the warmth of his skin, the smoothness of his palm.

after saying your farewells, and promising to come back next year, the two of you begin your trek down the mountain trail. hand in hand. it’s mostly silent, but not at all in a bad way. satoru knows when to be serious, and when not to be. today, he knows you’re especially fragile — he wouldn’t dare overstep.

(especially when he knows your pain so well.)

”hey,” you break the silence. ”thank you, really. for… well, everything.”

satoru brushes you off, with a light squeeze of your hand. ”don’t mention it. i’m your boyfriend, aren’t i?”

”it’s not about that,” you chuckle, an embarrassed smile on your lips. ”just… thank you for existing, i guess. i love you a lot.” 

…

satoru hums.

if he were any other person, maybe he’d respond with something just as sincere — something to let you know exactly how much you mean to him, how you make his world brighter just by being in it. how you mend scars he didn’t even know he had, as effortlessly as brushing a strand of hair away from your face. how you remind him of a certain boy, but also something entirely different; a love so light it makes him feel human.

but he’s satoru gojo — and so he has to do things in a more roundabout way.

”hey,” he starts, with a soft click of his tongue. ”next christmas. are you free?”

you blink up at him, with a tilt of your head. ”… of course. we always do something on christmas, right?”

”no, i don’t mean that.”

another tilt of your head. satoru hums, low and contemplative, humming quietly.

”eh,” he flicks his hand, waving you off. ”you’ll see.”

”… okay?”

silently, you study his expression, hoping to find some sort of hint that’ll give away the meaning of his words. you can’t find anything except a carefree smile, his eyes still obscured by his shades — hidden from you and the rest of the ghosts.

you suppose it doesn’t really matter. satoru seems happy; and, really, that’s all you could ask for. 

so you only tug him closer, greedy for his warmth, basking in the feeling of it enveloping you. protecting you from the chilly air. 

satoru closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

(a boy with black hair smiles behind his eyelids.)

[lonelysheepling]

Recently read @queenofthequillandink ’s DPxDC crossover fic Unearthed, Reborn

I got inspired to draw character sheets for Danny, Sam, Jason, and Jazz’s vigilante personas. Here’s a link to the author’s drawings of their outfits (these were a vital reference for me when doing this so thank you so much for sharing them Quill) More commentary (like 7+ paragraphs plus 2 images) about this project and the designs below the “keep reading” line.

None of these thoughts I have for each character are in order, but I have a lot of commentary for these since this project was a lot more conceptual than my normal work. I also just like talking about my art/design process. If you ever find yourself wondering at some point why an element from the original design wasn’t included, the answer is that the removal was completely intentional and part of my grandmaster vision for this work and wasn’t because I just forgot about it entirely during the design process.

————————————————————————

Aconite (Sam)

This was the first one I sketched out, I wasn’t even sure at the time if I was going to fully commit to drawing all of them. I thought that Sam was gonna be the hardest since her description was way longer than the others, but then bird boy beat her out. I took a lot of creative liberties with her design, the bag was added bc I couldn’t figure out how to add pockets to the skirt. I was trying to avoid a joker color scheme so I had a lot of ref images that I got by searching like “purple green aesthetic” on Pinterest. The dark purple and dark forest/blueish green won out in the end. I desaturated a lot of my colors for her just to get as far away from the neon Gotham rogue aesthetic. I also added the bdsm harness over the armor to add more punk elements to her design, I know that in real life that would be very uncomfortable to wear over scalemail armor but sometimes we take creative liberties when they look sick as fuck. Also, I didn’t realize until I went to look for a reference for aconite flowers that aconite is wolfsbane! That was neat to learn! Also, the font I used for Aconite is called “zai Art School Calendar 1931”, I’ve used this a few times for other projects, it’s one of my favorite fonts. The ‘zai’ fonts the creator has are all very good.

Shade (Danny)

There wasn't much to add to this page. His outfit is pretty simple (besides the patterning). I wasn’t sure how to pull of an optical illusion pattern but I was reminded how I sometimes get an eyestrain induced headache when looking at someone wearing a patterned shirt with really thin stripes so I just leaned into the idea of a small/detailed hard lined pattern. I originally made 5 separate patterns for him and then turned them into stamp brushes in procreate. I only ended up using three of them, the one on the chest, the one on the legs, and the one on his hand. But, I imagine the patterns fade and shift when he moves, sort of like a lenticular print. I gave him constellation freckles and stylized the hair’s fade into white. The hair was inspired by how time-woods draws Martin Blackwood’s hair (linked: time-woods’s fanart of Martin Blackwood). Also put way too much effort into the teeth on the mask. I just like the chunky teeth design. Oh yeah and the font I used for him is called “Typewriter_Condensed_Demi”

Erinys (Jason)

Repeatedly ran into the issue of not having enough canvas space bc of my fervent need to thoroughly document and plan out how the wings worked. I also reversed the colors for the bodysuit & armor so the under layer was black while the armor plates were red. I only realized afterwards that I may have been inspired by the red centipedes in Rain World (linked: gif of the red centipede, don’t click the link if you’re unsettled/afraid of bugs/insects), artists subconsciously draw inspiration from other artists all the time though so I’m not like upset about it. I stand by it because it looks sick as hell. Also leaned into the magpie theming for the wings. I think the vigilante form was supposed to be reverse magpie coloring? I can’t remember, but I stuck with normal magpie coloring. The anatomy of how the wings connected to the collarbone was inspired by JayEaton’s Magpie Bridge Project. Reference image link. Link to the article the image is from. I didn’t draw the wing armor because I couldn’t figure out how to would work with the wing anatomy and I ran out of canvas space. Finally, the font used for him is “DIN Condensed” this is a default font, I would’ve used something more punk but I needed the text to be legible.

Insight (Jazz)

I did Jazz after I’d already finished the initial trio, so I had to switch to a new canvas for her bc I’d hit the layer limit multiple times on the previous one. I really do love doing that spiked under-eyelash thing with characters. Don’t know when that started. Anyway, I added the shoulder pads to her outfit to help break up the empty space. The golden eyes were a nice accent color since her design is very overwhelmingly green. Honestly the braid hairstyle and gold eyes really do obscure her identity, multiple times when drawing her I was worried that she didn’t really resemble Jazz enough. There wasn’t a drawing from the author for her so I only had the text description to go off of. I just realized that she sort of reminds me of a forest ranger and I don’t know what to do with that realization. I copy/pasted my drawing of her eyes when gold and recolored them to match her normal eye color. There were two layers for that, a hue shift and a hard light layer to emphasize the shadows.

Here’s what it looks like without the hue shift: 

It looks really cool and I’m 100% that color combo in another drawing down the line. Oh yeah and the font used for this sheet was “Euphemia UCAS”. It comes with Apple’s operating system, I use it as a neutral default text most of the time bc it’s nicer than helvetica but not overly fancy like Times New Roman—and why am I talking about fonts. ——————————————————————— Anyway, this project was very fun to work on. The alt text for this was its own endeavor, hope the folks using screen-readers don’t mind 4-5 paragraphs of description text. Also, I cannot remember for the life of me if Dani got a costume description, but if she does I’ll make sure to update this image set with a sheet for her. And to the author, QueenOfTheQuill, if you’re reading this message that I’ve left at the very bottom of this post below a read more line, thank you for the fic. It’s very good and I’m glad I caught it during my slow decent into DPxDC brainrot. I love the interactions between Jason and Tim, it’s nice seeing a revived Jason that’s not bogged down by pit rage. They definitely seem like they could’ve been good friends if not for the unfortunate circumstances that led them to meet in canon. Also, I’m sure Jazz will love interacting with Batman and Nightwing. So much psychological & childhood trauma to unpack with them. Feel free to use/share these images if you so desire and thanks again for your work.

[mossfrg]

Jersey Gotham

Okay as someone born and raised in Jersey, I feel like we as a fandom are missing out on truly Jersey-ified Gotham. Like, c’mon, Jersey Girl Brucie Wayne??? So here I am to present a list of things I need more of because god damn it make Batfam— mostly Bruce, Jason, Tim, Steph, and Duke— Jersey (all based on my own personal experiences/real things that have happened to me):

Bruce cannot pump his own gas. He just. Doesn’t know how to. It’s not like a rich person thing, he just never learned cause he’s from fucking Jersey and never leaves Gotham. Jason didn’t know how and Talía lost her shit “How??? You are child superhero??? Who died and spontaneously came back??? But you can’t pump gas??” Tim kinda knows cause of Titans but again, he never really had to. (There’s a Twitter threaded dedicated to the Wayne family titled “is this rich or Jersey”). Steph and Duke can but they both pretend not too.

There have been fist fights over whether it’s pork roll or taylor ham. Jason and Bruce are very adamantly pork roll like the good Southern Jersey boys they are— it’s the one thing they can agree in most days— but Tim is taylor ham. Steph and Duke, despite being South Jersey, like to cause chaos and flip sides constantly. Dick, Damian, and Cass couldn’t care less.

The Absolute Hatred of New York/NYC. Doesn’t matter which kid it is, Bruce (and Alfred) got them all on board with this. Don’t even get them started on the Statue of Liberty; it’s a Wayne family tradition to try and buy it from NY because technically it’s more in NJ than NY and it’s closer too. They’ve yet to be successful but Bruce has hope for when it’s Damian’s turn.

And bc of this hatred of NYC comes the support of Philly!! None of them are super big sport fans, but they do cheer for Eagles, 76ers, and Union. Bruce, thanks to Alfred, is a big fan of soccer (“it’s football, master Bruce, I didn’t raise you in a barn”), and is a member of the Sons of Ben. He can be found in the River End of the stadium with Jason cheering for Union at pretty much every home game. There are multiple videos of Brucie Wayne and Jason Wayne screaming at refs, launching fireworks off the roof, and cursing out opposing teams’ players. Duke and Tim can be found 76ers games, while Steph frequents Eagles games.

Accents. Pls for the love of god give those boys (and Steph) accents. They are from New Fucking Jersey. They say “cawfee” and “tawlk.” They pronounce 0% of their t’s in the middle of words— kitten is ki’en, Trenton is tren’in. Jason and Steph drop letters when they gets pissed, Bruce slurs words, Duke and Tim drop passive-aggressive “y’all’s” to piss people off.

Driving. Now it’s not that they’re shit drivers, it’s that everyone else is a shit driver, and it’s not helped that majority of them learned to drive in the Batmobile. Steph has a loudspeaker on her car and frequently yells “fucking Pennsylvania turn your goddamn blinker on!” while driving. Bruce has a room in the manor dedicated to his speeding tickets. Tim as gotten into multiple fists fights at lights because people were driving slow in the fast lane. Jason is infamous for doing the Jersey Slide.

Jason, Tim, and Steph have gotten mugged before. They talked their way out of it and gave tips to the mugger. Bruce has kicked a rabid raccoon while walking home before because what else was he supposed to do? Duke has ordered a “pork roll egg and cheese on an everything” before in Not-Jersey and cried because they don’t have it. Several foreign benefactors of WE have asked for translators at meetings with Brucie cause Brucie’s accent is so thick and exaggerated. IN CONCLUSION: making Batfam (and gotham) Jersey is funny as hell and presents so many good opportunities. Make Batfam Jersey! (again these are all just my personal experiences, big state yada yada, different experiences, blah blah idgaf I jsut need batfam fist fighting over pork roll)

[akystaracer22]

Maybe in Another Life We Would Hate Each Other a Little Less

A chance encounter sheds a little light on Adam that Lucifer couldn't have predicted, leading to a moment he thought he'd never have with the man.

Notes (Aka my thoughts while writing):

God is a dick and I wanna kill xem

Adam folds his wings like a bird because monkey see monkey do

Both these guys were traumatised by the same person and we don’t talk about it enough

Probably Guitarduck/Adamsapple but in a fledgeling platonic kinda way

Refer to my ref for what Adam looks like!

I listened to Rät while writing this and- it kind of fits Adam???

Jesus is God’s favourite child and it fucking shows

How tf did this become a sickfic????

Lucifer gets the experience of being me whenever I make the impulsive move to boot up Char.ai and talk to literally any of the AI’s, get aunt agonied bitch.

Oh my god Adam has middle child syndrome.

Can you tell I attended a Christian school when I was younger???

Adam was hiding just how fucked over he was from the wing rot but he’s not having a good time in this. Most of the latter half of the oneshot is him dazed from both the one set of wing rot and the feeling of someone touching his wing.

Shit emergency wing HC for Adam ig: His wings grow warmer corresponding to his mood, as in when he is in general happier his wings radiate warmth and when he’s in a foul mood they’re just normal or even a little cooler.

In saying that yes Lucifer’s wings glow when he’s happy

Word Count: 1902

Fic under cut!

“Fucking- Shit!”

Lucifer paused, looking behind him and backing up to peek through the crack in the door. This ought to be good.

Sure enough, he was right, this was entertaining.

Adam was ranting again.

Honestly it was a nearly daily thing by this point, probably the only good thing about his daughters decision to let Adam stay at the hotel. He loved his daughter, he really did, by Adam was… Adam.

Lucifer knew he was a lost cause.

But still, didn’t mean Lucifer couldn’t tease the hell out of the man since he was stuck down here with the rest of them.

Lucifer’s smirk at watching the first man rant quickly died as he took in the guys appearance, he looked…

“What is wrong with your wings.”

Adam jerked and twisted around, scowling at him and oops he said that out loud didn’t he.

“Piss off!”

Lucifer, in his typical fashion, did not piss off and instead entered the room, “No seriously what is wrong with your wings.”

Now that he was closer, the king was certain they didn’t look like that a week ago. The feathers, while already having looked like a wreck were duller and the colours seemed almost… muted. Ignoring the already horrific state Adam’s wing were in, they shouldn’t look THAT bad so why…

“Wait-”

“I said-!”

“Have you not been preening you wings?”

Adam went silent, staring wide eyed at Lucifer much to the kings confusion. A beat passed, then two.

“What the fuck is preening?”

Lucifer blinked, he wasn’t serious, was he?

Surely not.

.

.

.

“By the heavens you’re dead serious.”

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

Lucifer debated whether he should explain it or not. On one hand, it’s Adam. On the other, Wings were a serious thing. He’d even seen Husker cleaning his wings from time to time, for Adam to just not know…

“You know what? For once my hatred of you is outweighed by my need to show you what’s what,” The fallen seraphim huffed, closing the door behind him and summoning a chair to block it from the outside so Adam couldn’t escape. “Come on we’re fixing this travesty.”

“What part of fuck off you do you not understand?!” The first man snapped, his wings mantling as Lucifer rifled through the closet, dragging out one of the many jars of oil he’d had the foresight to put in most of the rooms, perks of being a guy with basic common sense.

“The part where you’re being stupid and my daughter started rubbing off on me,” Lucifer shot back, his own wings serving well to corral Adam towards the bed, “How you don’t know how to preen your wings is beyond me but that’s ending today.”

“Again- what are you blabbering about.”

Lucifer paused, hand hovering just over Adams feathers. Preening someone elses wings was… intimate. It was something reserved for friends, family, lovers, and stuff… not enemies. Was he really going to just go ahead and clean Adams wings for him?

The seraphim’s eyes flicked over to where the ruined wing was draped over the bed. The wing was already in bad enough shape as it was, if he didn’t do this then wing rot was bound to hit it at some point and-

He didn’t really have a choice, not if he didn’t want to watch someone die of wing rot again.

Adam went stiff under Lucifers touch as he started work on the mans functioning wing, it was the easiest to work with, not the mention the safest to start with. The injured wing would no doubt be sensitive to any interaction, so better to start small.

Ish.

Adam shuddered as Lucifer moved between feather’s, periodically reapplying preening oil as he went. He was right as usual, looking closer most of the barbules had been separated and needed to be locked together again. Grimacing, the seraphim gently scratched out what looked like dried blood from where it was hidden in the base of Adam’s Secondary coverts.

“What are you doing?” Adam whispered, his voice for once lacking it’s usual bite. Lucifer paused for a second in confusion before Adam’s wing flexed back into Lucifer’s hand, “Don’t stop!”

“Okay okay!” The king huffed, working on his primaries, “What I’m doing is called preening. It’s something beings with feathers do to clean them.”

“Like birds?”

“Yeah, like birds,” Lucifer agreed, “The oil helps take care of bacteria, but you got to realign the feathers, get rid of the ones ready to moult, and fix the feathers that are out of sorts, though you can just shake the feathers to do that part quicker.”

“Mhm”

Lucifer shifted over to finally tackle the ruined wing and froze, a chill slinking down his spine. As he took in the state of the tattered appendage.

“Shit.”

This close the seraphim could see the red pimples under the thinning layer of feathers surrounding the injury, it was wing rot in its early stages.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Lucifer dove his fingers into the scapulars to shut Adam up while he discreetly conjured up some disinfectant for the rot, if he’s lucky he can treat it now and just get Charlie or Vaggie to deal with it now, knock it over the head before it becomes so visible the others can notice. He ignored Adam’s breath hitching as the seraphim started, just as predicted, the wing was sensitive from the damage done to it.

“But seriously you need to do this more, this is just horrific,” Lucifer grumbled to himself, not really caring if Adam listened, “Honestly I’m surprised this hasn’t happened to you before!”

“Mmmm tried once… I think?”

Lucifer, glanced at Adam’s face, it was pointed away from him, but he could still sense Adam’s attention was on him, “Yeah?”

“Saw the birds doin’ it and tried to copy ‘em,” Adam continued at the prompt, spreading his other wing, “It hurt so I stopped, didn’ know there was a method to this shit or someth’n.”

“You… nobody even tried to teach you?”

“I think they thought I knew,” Adam chuckled sourly, “I think they thought I fu’kin knew how to just- do this. ‘Cause I was meant to right?!” Another laugh, “I bit the fu’kin apple so I shou’da known this kinda shit! Apple of knowl’dge or what’ver.”

Lucifer, wisely, didn’t say anything, he just kept working on Adam’s ruined wing, applying the disinfectant, and fixing what few feathers were still healthy and removing the rest. If it was anyone else in this situation he’s wrap the wing and tell them to rest but… it was still Adam that was in this mess.

“I- why didn’t they teach me? Luci why didn’t they teach me this shit?”

“I… don’t know,” Lucifer replied carefully, deliberately skipping over the butchering of his name that sounded way to close to a nickname for comfort, “Come on, up you get he still got the underside to finish then I’ll be out.”

Adam grumbled but complied, sitting up a little to turn around as Lucifer summoned a pillow for Adam to lean back on. Rolling his neck Lucifer got to work on the auxiliary feathers, the lighter feathers were definitely in better shape, but then again that wasn’t exactly a high bar, and they still were looking rough.

“Jesus was prob’bly taught how to preen himself.”

Lucifer’s shoulders hitched as his wings tucked in against his back abruptly. Jesus… was a rough topic. For all sinners talked about him, Lucifer never met him but from the sinners around that time… it was never a fun conversation. Pretentious once kings cursing his name while hopeless commoners lined up for the exorcists blade, faithful until the end that Jesus would let them into heaven if they just believed in him.

… there was a pattern in there, wasn’t there. Like father like son, he supposed.

“Jesus was made from me and yet he’s God’s favourite fukin kid, course he’d fucking know how to preen,” Adam continued unimpeded, “Doesn’t matter if I was Gods first- Jesus was always fucking better than me.”

Okay! Lucifer was in no way prepared for this conversation, but he highly doubted Adam was even going to remember this conversation, so he just focused on the wings.

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

Lucifer sincerely wished Anthony, or just anyone really would bust down the door at this moment, at least then he could get himself out of this conversation.

“Why do you think that?” the seraphim deflected, moving onto Adam’s good wing and going through his coverts.

“Because none of them ever fucking did this,” Adam waved his hand haphazardly before letting it rest on his chest, “You’re my enemy but you’re fixin’ my fu’kin wings because I’m too stupid and useless to just figure it out myself.”

“Not useless,” The words left Lucifer’s lips without his input, damn himself to double hell, but it managed to shut up Adam, so he kept on the thought train, “You’re not useless you were just never taught, it’s not your fault heaven doesn’t think.”

“Jesus-”

“Is God’s prodigal son and shouldn’t be counted.”

Adam huffed and leaned back on the pillow, “Why’re you good at this?”

“I’ve had aeon’s to learn, and over a decade of putting it in practice,” Lucifer thought about his daughter, a small smile making it’s way into his expression, she really was the best thing to happen to him.

He finished up with Adams good wing and moved onto finishing off the wrecked one. Applying the disinfectant to the infected spots on the underside before reaching for the preening oil again.

“Y’know, maybe in another life we would’ve hated each other less.”

Lucifer just laughed and started preening the wing, yeah right, maybe in a reality where the apple incident never happened, “You’re sick Adam, feverish even.”

“And you’re a wife-stealer.”

“Should have been better in bed.”

“Fuck you,”

Lucifer stuck his tongue out at the first man, earning a tired chuckle. Then the seraphim blinked at the sudden warmth radiating out from the feathers. What in the-?

“Oh… they haven’t done that in a while.”

Lucifer blinked up at Adam who was staring at his feathers in amazement, “Ackde-whuh?”

Adam leaned back and closed his eyes, “Yeah… sometimes they just get warm all of a sudden it’s weird. Hasn’t happened in a while though. Apparently it sometimes happened when Lute was around? I dunno why.”

Lucifer blinked a couple of times before letting out a small “huh” and running a hand through the ruined wing, it was definitely warmer.

Sighing, Lucifer let his hand fall away despite the wing chasing it, “Alright well your wings are definitely cleaner now, so I’ll be out of your hair now.”

The seraphim stood up to leave through the balcony, opening the window and almost stepping out when Adam called after him, still sounding exhausted.

“I can see why they left me for you.”

Lucifer paused, before smiling sardonically and looking back at Adam, who looked like he might have just passed out.

“Tell me that when you’re not delusional from illness and I might believe you.”

With that, Lucifer stepped out and left for his own room… though, if Adam woke up to a small plush duck on his nightstand, that was between Lucifer and the god that cast him down.

But there is one thing Lucifer will admit.

Maybe Charlie wasn't wrong about thinking Adam could be redeemed.

Pings:

@sleepy-hijinx @whatataha @cyborg0109 @birbisanon @legogator @overlord-rey @luckyburgerz @spiny-dogfishes @justakidicarus

[bouncybongfairy]

Hiii, could you please do a live action jet x reader smut? Where the reader is a water bender and he meets her when he meets sokka and Katara, she knows hes kind of a bad person but she can't help being into him. You don't have to do exactly that, just a idea!

Rude Boy

Jett x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Needing to take a break from travel, your group stops to rest in the Earth Kingdom village of Gaipan. After meeting Jett and the Freedom Fighters, you can't help but be charmed by his bad boy persona. He invites you out to the city for a wild night.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You guys had been flying for hours and the sun was starting to go down. Anng decided that they would find somewhere to set up camp for the night. Appa was getting tired so they needed somewhere soon and Gaipan was the nearest village. Nothing seemed off at first, Katara and Sokka were arguing about the most efficient way to set up their tent. Anng made sure Appa was comfortable when Jett and the Freedom Fighters made their appearance. After they explained their disposition, they joined you around the fire. Jett was sitting right next to you, telling these lavish stories of glory and riches. Katara wasn’t impressed by his show boating and was disappointed you weren’t seeing it. After he was out of ear shot, all she could talk about was how he was a bad guy and not to be trusted. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t see the signs that he was up to no good. You just didn’t give a fuck. His dominant personality was quite charming. How he didn’t tolerate anything he was unhappy with. You loved everyone in the group and have grown to be like family. However, being happy-go lucky and optimistic all the time was emotionally taxing. As Katara used her water bending to put out the fire, Jett pulled you aside. 

“Hey I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come into town with me later tonight?” He asked. 

“Oh uh- yeah I think I would be able to sneak away,” you said, looking over to see if anyone was watching. 

“Great, I'll meet you here, in an hour or two,” he says while catching up with his group. 

You were practically snaking with excitement. For so long, you’d been surrounded with morality and sunshine. You were excited to break away from that, do something that made you feel alive. Laying on your back in the tent, waiting until you felt everyone was actually asleep. Your heart was racing, trying to avoid anything on the ground that could make noise. Jett was waiting for you where he said, resting his hands on the handles of his hook swords. He smiled once he saw you, joking about how he was starting to think you bailed. 

“No, not at all! I’m really looking forward to seeing the night life in the city,” you explained. 

“Well, I’m excited to show you.” he said, holding his hand out for you to take. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the night market he was intent on visiting. It was really nice, several food stands that were making your mouth water. He pulled out a large bag of coins, and made your eyes widen a little. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw that much money in one place. Never giving you a straight answer when you asked how he acquired the money. The mysteriousness was only adding to his bravado. After walking the full length of the market, he took you to a really scenic spot. At the top of a hill, overlooking all the lights in the city. Laying on a bed of soft grass while enjoying the view. 

“So how did you really get all that money?” you asked, laying your head against his shoulder; admiring his side profile. 

“The less you know the better,” he chuckled. 

“It’s okay if it’s bad. I know the group I'm with isn’t the most open minded but the Fire Nation made the world like this. Impossible to survive so why can’t we break a few rules to withstand their wrath you know?” you explained. 

“Finally, someone that gets it,” he said, turning to face you.

Your lips were only a couple inches from his. Smelling the alcohol on his breath from a drink he’d gotten earlier that night. Everything about him was just so unacceptable, his attitude, outlook on life and his moral compass was so wrong. You were tired of trying to figure out why that was so intriguing. Shamelessly giving in to your temptations. Wanting to test the waters slowly, you brush your bottom lip against his. In return he melts his mouth into yours. Running his tongue over your lip, grabbing your face with his hands. Breathing hard out your nose, trying to get air in when you could. He rolled on top of you, pressing his pelvis into yours. Starting to kiss and nip at your neck as the two of you rock your hips together. He sits up abruptly, your lips separating with a wet pop sound. Now on his knees, he pulls out his hook swords and tosses them to the side. 

For the few seconds he was hovering over you with the blades, your skin prickles with goosebumps. He looked so powerful and menacing, it made you feel hazy. Dropping back down, his hands coming down hard on either side of your head. You flinched a little, which made him chuckle before pulling your top off. Of course, you eagerly help him remove it. Your back arched off the ground as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Swirling and flicking his tongue while pinching and pulling at the other. Your head falling back against the grass, both mind and body fully engulfed with pleasure. Your clit was aching and feeling yourself getting wetter wasn’t helping. 

“Can I ride you?” you asked. 

“No, I wanna fuck you until you’re braindead,” he says, flipping you onto your stomach. 

Pushing your ass up and grinding against his leaking member. Spreading his pre-cum all over your skin before focusing his tip on your entrance. Teasing for a few moments before burying himself inside your heat. He started rocking his hips slowly, pulling out fully before sliding back in. Biting and sucking hickies on your shoulder. Trying his best not to animalistically pound you into the ground. Moaning every time he fully pressed his cock inside you; his head kissing your cervix every time he snapped his hips. Your head was turned to the side, perfect angle for him to shove two fingers into your mouth. Massaging your tongue and prodding down your throat. Letting out a moaning as you gagged and drooled. Wet slapping sounds came from how hard he was thrusting. Taking his hand out of your mouth and brushing the hair out of your face so he could see your expressions. Spreading your drool all over your face in the process, while making patronizing cooing noises at you. Your body went limp, barely audible uh-uh-uh’s coming out of your mouth. Seeing you turned into a fucked out pile of need was steering him closer to climax. Having no remorse and using your body for pleasure was his only goal. Pounding away at you with such force, your skin was becoming sore and reddened. Pressing his full body weight into you, pulling your hair to expose your neck and biting down as he came. Snapping his hips into you every time he shoots thick ropes of cum into your belly. Grunting and growling into your neck as he rode out his high. He got the two of you semi dressed before passing out where you two laid in the grass. Too fucked out to care about the repercussions and responsibilities that tomorrow holds.

[bloomeng]

You gave steph the bat symbol and not cass... the person most loyal to it and the thing most important to her... alright

I’m gonna respond to this in good faith.

So actually each costume is based on specific designs. I do mash up elements based purely on my personal preferences but I try to closely resemble one look each. And while my choices are definitely biased, it’s actually mostly determined by how easily I could translate pre-existing elements of their costumes into a more magical girl aesthetic.

These were the looks I based Steph’s design on.

I tend to look at references from both the comics, and the more comedic projects, because those projects tend to simplify the costumes in ways that I can then extrapolate ideas from. It really helps determine what are the most important elements of their costumes that I need to keep for them to still look like themselves versus what are the kind of superfluous details that I can alter. 

These were my main refs for Cass.

At first, I actually was going to go in a Black Bat direction for her. But after some trial and error, I couldn’t get the mask to fit the way I wanted it to and I’m sure if I spent some more time on it I could make it work, but I am very attached to her Orphan fit. I just think it’s really cool and I liked the idea of incorporating her pants into the look. Plus the armor plating was already very reminiscent of armor that I could turn into a magical girl look.

I also wanted to keep the classic black and yellow bat symbol motif open for a potential Bruce magical girl in the future. (No promises but I am considering these things as I work)

Anyway, I’m trying not to spend a tremendous amount of time on each of these because they’re supposed to be silly and fun. I have a tendency to overthink. So I’m trying to remind myself that this whole au is very lighthearted.

[dqrciedaily]

baby arsenal headcannons, arsenal wfc x teen!reader

a/n: i am so so so sorry that this isn’t an actual fic but i’ve left yous without anything for like two weeks so take this 🥰🥰🥰

warning - this isn’t proofread so pls ignore any mistakes x

-

1. she is maths no.1 public enemy - literally will stare at her homework for two hours instead of actually trying it. then the next day at school she gets in trouble for not doing it but she genuinely couldn’t care less because she’d rather have them email lia than try do trigonometry

2. her tiktok reposts and twitter likes have fans speculating like there is no tomorrow - she’s definitely liked transfer rumours on twitter before as well as reposting things she shouldn’t be and she reposts things that happened way back way but people think it’s about her current situation, leading to some very concerned fans in her tiktok comments and instagram requests.

3. baby girl has stina and laura wrapped around her finger - she’s cold? stina’s gonna give her the jumper she’s wearing. she’s hungry? laura’s up to make her something to eat, even though maus is perfectly capable of doing it herself. they’re basically on her beck and call.

4. she always curses out players in german on the pitch - when she was younger her brothers taught her the art of cursing people out in german then speaking in english to confuse them. however this did not work when arsenal played chelsea and she went flying after a tackle from nüsken, who very obviously understands german, leading to maus getting a yellow.

5. which leads to the next point which is that she gets her fair share of yellows - giving katie a run for her money, although most of hers come from back chatting the ref and not from actual gameplay, although she isn’t afraid to put in a heavy tackle here and there.

6. her + kyra = little shits on steroids - on the first media day of the season they decided to put y/n and kyra in three of the same interviews, let’s just say absolutely nothing productive happened until caitlin had to come in to do an interview with the two of them.

7. she’s lia’s no.1 reason for her early gray hairs - firstly maus is awful at answering phone calls, so if she’s out with her friends and lia needs something best believe she cannot contact her. secondly the amount of emails the school sends her may send lia into overdrive, she genuinely couldn’t care less if y/n didn’t do her homework as long as she’s passing all her classes, which she is (besides math but lia doesn’t need to know that.)

8. y/n has the best outfits - her instagram feed is filled with mirror pics of her outfits and they’re all just so good!!! she’s known for her fashionable clothes throughout the woso community.

9. she gets really really really nervous when doing interviews by herself - she already refuses to do orals in school because they stress her out too much, so after her first full 90 for arsenal she gets called to do an interview and poor girl is swaying from side to side the entire time, stumbling over her words and overall looking like a deer caught in headlights.

10. the first time she brings a girl or boy home lia gets a group of the girls to pretend they’re over for dinner without telling y/n - so then when y/n gets home she sees most of her teammates there and very hastily shoves her ‘friend’ upstairs, before going over to the girls who all tease her. then when she’s upstairs in her room with her ‘friend’ they all take turns coming upstairs to walk past the closed door to hear what they’re talking about.

11. she is a hugger of note - the first time she meant all the girls minus her shy demeanour she hugged every single teammate she met. she is also a massive cuddler, on the team bus she makes ours sit in the window seat (much to the brunettes complains) then uses kyra as a pillow which 1. forces kyra to be quiet because she doesn’t want to wake y/n and 2. she can’t move around the bus as she wants deciding to annoy everyone which the other girls are very thankful for.

12. her first crush on a girl was laura freigang, who she had seen around the german youth camps before - she even told her parents at one stage that she was going to go to penn state just like lau did but that phase was short lived when she then developed a crush on one of her teammates in her age group instead.

13. in another life she’s a dj who lives in ibiza - literally no explanation needed, she truly is a party animal at heart and would go to all the festivals and raves possible during the off season.

[feyhunter78]

AAAA I’M SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART I LOVE YOUR WRITING SMM ❤️❤️

Thank you!!!! 🥺🥺 I'm excited to see y'all's reactions to the newest chapterrrrr Also, I lied about the smut it's in the next chapter, but there is some suggestive type stuff unfortunately it's from Todd

Pink Pastels Pt 9

Description: It's Saturday, and you're at a sports bar with Todd, until you find yourself on the roof with Spiderman.

Pt 10

It’s Saturday. One of your two days off, and all you want to do is relax, but here you are at a shitty sports bar, beer already spilled on your shorts by some drunk idiot, your boyfriend completely ignoring you as he pounds his fist against the bar, screaming at the TV. His team is losing, you assume, as you push away from the bar, drink in hand, and wonder back to your table.

You pull out your phone and scroll through your email, responding to a few, ignoring others, until finally you see a response from a kid in your class’s mother.

Jessica Tompson: Ms. Y/N, I will be available at six PM on Monday to meet with you regarding Tommy’s behavior. I look forward to getting to the bottom of this issue.

You smile and send her a quick response back; you’ve been trying to get Tommy’s mother in for a meeting since October. Tommy wasn’t a bad kid, he just needed extra support and attention, and potentially some ADHD testing. But you knew people were hesitant to test their kids, afraid to “label” them, even though those “labels” could really help their kids in school.

You couldn’t count how many times you’ve explained that identifying where kids are struggling can get them access to accommodations that they need to thrive. Such as extra time on assignments or a quieter, smaller room to take tests in, so they weren’t as distracted. Sure, they wouldn’t get these things forever, but if they got them now, it would help them learn how to self-regulate for the future.

You tap your fingers on the tabletop happily and bound over to Todd. “Hey, guess what, I’m finally getting that mom to come in and talk to me.”

“Who?” He asks, beer in hand, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Tommy Tompson’s mom.”

“Oh, the hot one with the nice rack?”

One of his friends high-fives him, and you put on a tight smile. “I don’t really look at my students’ parents like that, but maybe?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got eyes, sue me.” Then he slammed his beer down on the bar. “Are you fucki—that’s bullshit, Ref!”

Miguel wouldn’t say things like that, he wouldn’t ignore you for football. He’d congratulate you, slip between your legs, his full lips parted, his pink tongue finding a hom— You shake yourself out of your thoughts.

This was crazy, you shouldn’t have done that… Should have stuck to fantasizing about a celebrity, or well, you should’ve been thinking about Todd, he is your boyfriend.

“What a shitty call, Ref!” You echo him, and that earns you a smile thrown your way, and an arm around your shoulders.

You just want things to go back to how they used to be, but honestly, you’re not even sure it used to be good. Maybe you just didn’t really know any different, but now after, all those little chats at pickup, during parent teacher meetings, and then the day at the zoo? How is it that a man, who barely knows you, treats you better than your boyfriend of years?

You walk home with Todd leaning heavily on you, his lips are on your neck, sloppy and clumsy, missing that certain spot on your neck in favor of slobbering all over your skin.

“Todd, maybe we need to slow down a bit.” You say carefully, trying to pry him off you.

“Again?” He sighs heavily, annoyance clear in his tone.

Your face flushes, shame burning through you, and you bite your lip to keep the tears at bay.

When you first started dating you were so new to everything, you’d had a few boyfriends before, but they were short-lived, almost chaste. Todd on the other hand was a complete and utter manwhore.

“I thought you were over all that.” He grumbles, trudging along the sidewalk, refusing to look at you.

He wanted everything fast, fast, fast, and you were dragged along for the ride, anxious and unprepared.

“I am, I am, it’s just you’re drunk, and your head is going to hurt in the morning…” You tell him, helping him up the stairs and through your apartment door.

He makes a beeline for your living room and flops down on your couch. “So, what, I want you, and you’re my girlfriend, so.”

You try to hide your grimace, but he sees it and groans.

“You’re always like this, I swear, such a prude.” He throws an arm over his eyes and unzips his pants, pulling his cock out.

You blanch, there’s no way he’s just going to jerk off, drunk, in the middle of your living room, right?

“Todd, seriously?” You snap, grabbing a decorative pillow and hurling it at him.

He ignores you, pumping himself, grunts and groans spilling from his lips. You used to find him attractive, you’ve always liked when he was vocal but now? Now it feels traitorous to hear him instead of Miguel.

But you’ve never heard Miguel, your mind was just making things up, that’s what dreams and fantasies are.

“You’re such a dick.”

He sat up, still gripping his erect cock. Was it smaller than you remembered? “Maybe I wouldn’t be if you’d do your job.”

"My job?” You ask, thoroughly confused.

He points at his cock, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, there’s no way he means what you think he means.

“Good girls suck their boyfriend’s dick.” He says it with such certainty, that it sounds ridiculous.

You bust out laughing, doubling over, gasping for breath. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’m not, you’re just a—” then he goes quiet, and you look up to see him passed out cold, cock still in hand.

You stand there for a moment, flabbergasted. There’s no fucking way that just happened.

Throwing a blanket over Todd, you head for the fire escape a different blanket in hand, climbing up to the roof, and sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling, your hands behind you supporting you as you lean back.

You let out a sigh, tilting your head up towards the night sky. It feels good out here, cool breeze, the sounds of the city at night, the gentle coo of the pigeons the apartment manager cares for.

A soft thump draws your attention, and you jump scrambling away from the edge, and turning on your heel. Only to come face to chest with Spiderman.

“I wish it was that easy to get everyone off the ledge.” He says, a hint of humor in his voice.

You remember what he looks like, and his face, mask? is everywhere, but it’s different when you’re not terrified or watching some grainy news footage.

“And he’s funny too.” You joke, giving him a small smile.

He tilts his head, scanning you, then reaches out and his gloved thumb brushes across your cheek. “You were crying?”

Were you crying? You touch your face, your fingertips coming away damp. “Oh, I didn’t even notice, it’s just been a long day.”

You spread out your blanket and sit, your back against the wall, and you pat the space before you.

“Won’t your boyfriend be upset if he found out, you’re sharing a blanket with a masked hero?” He teases, sitting in the space you made for him.

“My boyfriend is currently passed out drunk with his dick in his hand.” You tell him, the low light making you braver than you’d normally be.

He goes silent, the eye parts of his mask widening, and you think that’s his version of raised eyebrows.

“He was drunk and pissed at me because I didn’t want him to slobber up my neck, so then he whips it out, and when I tell him to stop, he calls me a prude and says I should do my job , which is such an asshole thing to say.” It feels good to ramble, to just vent all your feelings onto this masked semi-stranger.

“Do your job?” Spiderman asks, his eyes narrowed.

“He said, and I quote, good girls suck their boyfriend’s dick.’ Literally so ridiculous…” You trail off as Spiderman rolls his shoulders back.

For a moment you’re hypnotized by the movement, the sheer mass of muscle.

“…shoes?”

You snap out of it. “I’m sorry?”

“Did you like your new shoes?” He asks, and you hear a smile in his voice.

Wow, y/n, rude much? You didn’t even think to thank the man who not only saved your life, but also replaced your shoes.

“Yes, thank you so much, how much do I owe you?” You go to pull out your wallet but realize you left it in your bedroom.

“No, it’s alright, consider it an apology for not getting there fast enough.” He holds his hands up in a pacifying manner.

You purse your lips but nod. “Alright, well, again, thank you.”

You’re fiddling with the necklace Gabi and Miguel got you, and it seems to catch his eye. “That’s pretty, your boyfriend get you that?”

You shake your head, dropping the pendant. “No, it was a gift from one of my kids, I’m a teacher.”

“That’s cute, do you mind if I?” He motions towards it slightly, and you lean forward, letting him catch it between two long fingers. “Very nice.”

“Yeah, I think it’s really sweet.” You smile up at him, breath catching in your throat when he releases the pendant close to your skin, his fingertip brushing the tops of your breasts.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to touch...” He says quickly, retracting his hand.

You give him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, it was an accident.”

“What’d your boyfriend say?”

“About the gift? I don’t think he even noticed.” You scoff, brushing your hair back from your shoulders.

“No, what did he say after you turned him down?” His voice is lower, warmer, spreading across your skin and seeping into your bones.

“Oh well, he tried to argue then passed out.” You giggle, Spiderman’s masked form still inches from your own.

Spiderman lets out a low hum and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “He phrased it all wrong, good girls don’t suck dick, they take cock.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7

[lewmagoo]

A naughty Rhett request!

I am in the mood for angsty!Rhett who doesn’t place as high as he thinks he should’ve in a rodeo and thinks the ref screwed him over, so he comes home and takes out his frustration on Reader in bed and needs to hear her give him all the praise and reassurance 👉🏻👈🏻🥹

the ride home was silent.

he always got this way after a bad ride. withdrawn. lost in his head. plagued with feelings of terrible inadequacy. he tried not to let it get to him, but he struggled. and tonight, he was even more upset than usual. you could tell by the way he remained tense, even as he drove home. he didn’t even bother to turn the radio on, which was usually the first thing he did when he started up the truck. it wasn’t just that he’d had a bad ride. in fact, he rode just fine. but when he glanced up at the scoreboard afterwards, his score was one of the lowest on the board.

that score was bogus. you knew it. he knew it. but for whatever reason, it was what he was given. and it had him spiraling with thoughts of, am i not good enough? is this really worth it? you watched him grapple with it, his mind working a million miles a minute as he processed it all during the ride home. you let him have the quiet, not wanting to inundate him with questions or try to get him to speak when he wasn’t ready to. in the early days of your relationship, you might’ve worried about him, as he’d struggled with communicating. but he had gotten better about it since then. he’d talk when he was ready.

he remained silent as he pulled into your driveway, and continued even when you’d finally walked into the house together. you decided to speak then. “are you hungry? i can fix somethin’ for you,” you said. he stood in the entryway, looking defeated. then he mumbled something as he moved to kick off his boots. “what was that?” you asked. “said ‘m not hungry!” he snapped in exasperation. but directly after that, he lowered his head, his shoulders falling. tentatively, you approached him, and he managed to look at you, his features dejected. “i’m sorry darlin’. didn’t mean t’ be short with you. i’m just…” he trailed off.

you lovingly held his face in your hands. “i know,” you hummed, leaning in to kiss him. he relished in your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “i…can we…” he couldn’t seem to get the words out. “what? it’s okay, say what you need,” you urged. he kissed you again, and there was an air of desperation to it. “i need y’ to…i…” you had a feeling what he was trying to ask about. but he couldn’t voice it, because there was part of him that felt wrong for it. dirty, and not in a good way. but you always encouraged him to speak his mind, to make his desires known. “you’re okay. it’s just me and you. talk to me, cowboy.” he had to know that he was safe with you. always.

his large hands came to rest on your hips, thumbs tracing circles over the fabric of your jeans. he let out a breath before he finally admitted what he wanted. “i need you. need to forget about this fuckin’ ride. wanna be inside you. god, i…i wanna have my way with you.” the weight of his words, so desperate, as if he was fighting the desire roiling within him, sent heat thrumming between your thighs. your fingers curled into the fabric of his button down. “yeah?” you breathed. “i’m right here. take what you want, rhett.” that was what he needed. that spoken consent to allow himself to give in to this urge. you trusted him. you wanted to give yourself to him.

one hand came up to rest against the back of your head, and he kissed you deeply, slotting his thigh between yours. something snapped within him. the invisible chains that held him back broke, and suddenly, you found yourself being guided toward the couch. it was one of those nights - you wouldn’t be making it to the bed for this encounter. rhett kissed you like a starving man, tongue and teeth, tasting you. you found yourself being maneuvered down to the floor, and you went eagerly. as soon as you were sprawled on the rug, he stopped to hover over you, and even in the low light, you could see a wildness in his eyes. narrow, like a cat’s. he’d just caught his prey, and he was going to devour it.

in a frenzy of hurried limbs, he had your jeans and panties off, and he unbuckled his belt with one hand, shoving his jeans down enough to free his cock. he at least had the decency to slide his hand between your legs, fingers searching, carefully prodding. he knew your cunt well, and he knew just how to get it soaked for him. your own arousal, mixed with his saliva that he spat upon his hand and used to lube up his cock, provided the right amount of slick for him to inch into you. at the thick intrusion, you gasped, and he swallowed the sound with his own mouth. “shhh, take it, take it,” he whispered, watching your face contort as your anatomy stretched around him.

when he bottomed out, you whined, and he gazed down at the place where your bodies met. “atta girl,” he gruffed. and then he started moving, and you saw stars. slow at first, but he wasted no time in building a rhythm. a hurried push and pull. but you knew what he needed. what he craved. so you gave it to him. “oh, rhett. you feel so fuckin’ good,” you sighed. you weren’t over exaggerating, either. he did make you feel good. he always did. but he needed extra reassurance tonight. and from the sound of the breathless moan he let out, you’d hit it right on the money. you searched for his mouth, leaving open mouthed kisses to his lips. “fuck, right there. nobody else makes me feel like this. n- oh! - nobody gets to be inside me this way. it’s all yours. only yours!” you cried.

he buried his face against your neck, groaning your name. “oh, god. say it again,” he pleaded. you clutched at his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh. “nobody else loves me like you do! nobody else fucks me like you do!” but your second sentence faltered when he offered a particularly deep thrust, cock brushing against a spot that made you squeal, your eyes rolling back. “oh my—oh fuck.” he leaned back to kiss you again, whispering into your mouth. “uh-huh, that’s right. i’m the only one that gets t’ use th-this sweet fuckin’ pussy.” and you keened at his words. “only you!” you echoed. “yo-you’re everything, rhett. f-fuck, i…i love you! i love you, i love you, i love you!”

he growled like a wounded animal, chest heaving against yours. he was losing himself. “fuck, honey, i…i can’t…” his voice was pained. “i-it’s okay,” you assured him. he was so pent up, so needy and desperate for you, that he was already there, ready to topple over the edge. and you encouraged it, begged for it. “c’mon, fill me up. cum inside your pussy,” you pleaded. you knew calling your cunt his would send him over the edge. because it was his, after all. no one else was allowed access to it. only him. and then, with a growl that melted into a broken wail, he fell apart, body tensing above you before his cock swelled within you and soon spilled his release into the very core of your being. you moaned, gladly taking every last drop he had to give.

and when he was finished, it took every ounce of strength in him not to collapse on top of you. he caught his breath, silence hanging between you for a moment as you combed your fingers through his hair. but as the post orgasm haze began to clear, you could see insecurity settling in. “shit, i didn’t mean for that t’ happen so fast. feel like a damn teenager,” he muttered. but you shook your head, smiling up at him. “nope, don’t you dare apologize. i thought it was hot,” you said. he quirked a brow up. “really?” he asked. “uh-huh. seeing you lose control…god, it’s so fucking sexy, babe,” you continued on. he smiled, leaning in to kiss you. a beat. then two. “thank you for, uh, for…yeah.”

you giggled softly. “you’re welcome, cowboy. i love you. so much.” his face grew serious as he nodded, “i luh you too,” he answered. then, “but i ain’t finished. need to take you for a ride.�� and before you could say anything else, he was slipping out of you, surging downward to bury his face between your legs to show you his gratitude.

[happylikeasadsong]

carmy’s always running out of time

i just need to get this out of my head once and for all.

i don’t know if someone has already mentioned this, but time is a recurring issue for carmy this season. He often feels like he’s behind schedule or something.

watching it for the first time i didn’t notice carmy’s mention to time until i got to the syd and carmy scene in episode 9., so i decided to rewatch just to catch every time he mentions it throughout the season.

so he’s reasoning to stop smoking was time, not health. it was the means to get to the end goal (get the star, not let the team alone) he wants to stay sharp and focused and he can’t waste five minutes on a cig break. so he gets the nicotine tablets instead.

(just a side note: ijbol every time his speech was compromised by the damn tablets I couldn’t take him seriously when he was fighting to not spit that thing out. i also wanted to smack that shit out of his mouth so many times)

not smoking leaves him impatient and more sassy than ever, and I can’t help but to trace a parallel line between not smoking and his sudden bursts of anger (him telling nat to figure out the money thing and stomping out of the office)

when sugar comes in she asks him why is he doing all that for, his answer is straight forward:

we see the first glimpse of the carmy we’re gonna see for the rest of the season: impatient, anxious and snippy.

in episode 3, doors, when richie comes up with his own non-negotiables list, he gets angry and defensive that someone would try and challenge his ideas. but he doesn’t have time to explain why cause he’s running out of time. He doesn’t even want to listen, cause he’s running out of time.

in episode 5, children, uncle jimmy brings the computer to run an analysis on the restaurant finances and things aren’t looking too good, but carmy, once again, refuses to listen, he just wants to get back to work and block all noise

it gets to the point jimmy has to pull him aside cause he’s being so annoying about it.

then we have episode 7, legacy, where we have this:

this scene, once again, reinforces the idea of him always getting ahead on the next thing, never really enjoying the moment he’s in cause he has a job to do.

he barely lets sydney finishes her sentences, he already has everything mapped out in his head and thinks he doesn’t need to let her in the loop. he never slows down, is go go go time in his mind.

every second counts.

then finally, episode 9, apologies, where he apologizes to syd, he’s tired of always getting ahead, he wants to do differently:

she’s the only person he apologizes for constantly pushing for time and making her constantly having to play catch up.

as sydney states, it wasn’t a skill issue, but communication, something that she told him before and he didn’t listen. he never enjoyed the moment.

it made me think of when sydney asked him in episode 5 if he knew what he had was special when he was working under chef terry and he said he was always too busy to know it at the time.

now that he’s faced with ever closing, a place he thought it would last forever, I think he’s ready to admit that he doesn’t have to run anymore, he needs to stay in the moment.

(now this is just crack but this is so non-stop by hamilton coded lmfao

the man thinks he’s Alexander Hamilton writing the other 51 confederalist papers, assuming he’s the smartest in the room and that attitude will be his doom, sorry for the ref)

[fredmcsm]

Admins refs!

Finally done… only took me all week… feel free to ask questions about them! (please)

Funfacts:

- Xara is based off: the End, dragons, lizards, reptiles etc., bats. The people of the Oasis are fancy but still need to wear outfits suitable for living in a Mesa so it comes around to something like Xara wears.

- Fred is based off: the Overworld, birds, deer, bears, angels. People in Fred’s Keep are all farmers/builders/creatives and from what you see in-game of what they wear, it’s similar to what Fred likes to wear. He likes to be comfy ^_^

- Romeo is based off: the Nether, cats, goats, demons/imps. Romeoburg citizens which are of COURSE called Burgers, they all wear thicker clothing for the colder environment tucked away at the mountains & fjords. There’s a lot of leather and furs, and long hair.

Armour refs

I don’t really like these but the idea is there. I needed their armours to suit their fighting styles and their general aesthetics including the ones of their towns.

Quick weapon refs

- Ending Eye is a longbow and its arrows are the sharpest hit you’ll ever get from a bow, owie

- Hoemeo is Fred’s diamond hoe, named this as a joke and it stuck, Fred couldn’t think of another name. He thought it wasn’t going to ever need to be used as a weapon so it didn’t matter. All I can say is that Romeo is lucky he wasn’t the one who died because that would have been an embarrassing death message.

- Ruby is like minecraft zenith and is very good at killing Freds

The pets

- Bonbon is a smaller-than-average creeper that is diffused and acts like a therapy cat to Romeo. He didn’t get a normal cat because he’s Romeo.

- Jean is THE Ender Dragon and was raised from a baby dragon into fully-grown Jean. She is often badly behaved and will only listen to Xara, if anyone.

- Waffles is Waffles… ya. Silly immortal chicken who also has an immortal need to peck Romeo to death

- Nugget, the old Clydesdale horse who is just happy to be there, happy lad ^_^

OK thats all I think. PLZ ask me questions. I will be joyous OK BYE

[nnnyxie]

Could we get headcanons for masked!Pro!Izuku x Fan!reader??? Masked au as in Hero identities are secret and we‘re besties with Izu and have no idea he is our ‚celebrity‘ crush and we own like tons of merch and a card board cut out and all- idk is that too specific?? Or weird?? Hsbfikskss

OHTMAGDK MY FIRST MHA REQ???? YES!!!

i absolutely adore this idea <3

and baby trust me this is not weird at all!! (i’ve gotten some odd requests, do not fret sweetheart)

y’all have that like— MJ and spiderman dynamic, before she knew he was spiderman. (the tobey maguire ver. first movie ofc ofc) (i love spiderman btw)

anyways.

whenever he hears you gush about your crush on the sweet ol pro hero deku— he always gets all quiet.

you assume that it’s cause he’s letting you rant about how much you adore this hero but nope!!!

our boy is doing his best not to explode!!

he knows that he has fans and he knows that his fans have those small appreciative ‘celebrity’ crushes on him!!

but, you being one of those fans?? you being one of those fans who have that little crush?? it makes his heart swell and stomach churn.

you, dear reader, are so clumsy (projecting…) and you somehow find yourself in trouble quite often!

especially since you quite LITERALLY stumble into danger. like. literally. it just happens. canon event, you cannot stop it! (/ref)

back to the program

i like to think that you guys go shopping together!! cause shopping with friends (wink) is so fun<3

whenever you go out you HAVE to buy merch of pro hero deku!! and he gets all fluttery when you do!!

(also we’re not going to talk about the secret cardboard cutout that he found in your closet when looking for a sweatshirt. he could’ve died right then and there /pos)

now. one day, you stumble in on a drug deal (jfc…) cause you were looking for smthn in your bag and didn’t wanna be in the way of people.

obviously things go awry. the druggie men (one looks like he could be a mafia boss??) grab you and throw you deeper into the alleyway you chose.

luckily our pro hero deku was on patrol! he witnessed the men shoving you to the ground and pulling out weapons.

now, deku doesn’t usually jump straight into fighting, no— he tries to reason first. he tries to convince them to put their weapons down and see that this whole ordeal is dumb. but— this time??

he jumped straight into action. he hurdle himself over the small concrete edge of the building he was on one of the men.

straight up knocked the guy unconscious. dude was out cold. dead asleep. concussed.

this would also be the first of many saves.

the next couple of times were just small things—

like pulling you away from oncoming cars (aka drivers who weren’t paying attention) when he was patrolling in your area

about the,,,,, 7th?? time he saved you— he just couldn’t believe how you were always getting yourself in these situations.

he’ll ask, “how do you keep getting yourself into situations like these?” half serious, half joking

“not sure but, i’m lucky you’re always there to save me,” you’d reply, good lord your heart would racing.

he’ll laugh and sport a blush under his mask. you’ll feel a slight churn in your stomach (not a bad one) because— he sounds so familiar.

you go back home— feeling giddy because he finally spoke to you— yes he’s talked to you before but— they weren’t sentences. they were small ‘be safe’s and ‘watch out’s.

you immediately call up izuku, needing to talk to someone about this. and he’s trying to hide his blush as you compliment the hero, as you compliment him.

it’s a dim, snowy day that he saves you, again. it’s cold and your lips were chapped because the air was dry.

once again, you find yourself in an alleyway. surrounded by ‘villains’.

he, of course, saves you. just like the last time.

“you might need to become a homebody,” he jokes, he’s frustratingly concerned.

“that’d be no fun, how else would i see you?”

where the hell did that come from? that really wasn’t a ‘you’ thing to say.

pls the way you left— you got so embarrassed omg

as soon as you were at home, you, once again, called izuku!! and he went to your house an hour after.

he listened to you rant about how you embarrassed yourself in front of deku and how you could never face him again. you said “i’d rather be shanked by a villain than face him again. i can’t believe i said that.”

you were hot with embarrassment and honestly felt the urge to cry (or is that just a me thing?)

“it wasn’t embarrassing, plus, i’d rather you not shank yourself because of me.”

“what?”

i’m sorry if this wasn’t what you were hoping for <//3

[justagalwhowrites]

Beautiful from New in Town definitely becomes a massive Longhorns fan after a while.

She gets so into the games now, she spots things in the game before the boys. She argues with them about referee decisions and draft picks.

Joel is so turned on by the whole thing. When isn’t he though?

Whenever Joel tells her how much he loves it she just says “oh i had this really handsome guy show me the ropes at a game a while back” smirking.

AHHH BESTIE!

OH THIS IS FULLY CANON NOW OK??? 110% CANON.

Also I've been watching college football with my husband all day so I couldn't not write this.

LOVE YOU!

Game Time

You watch the Longhorns game with your fiance Joel. A New in Town one shot.

We are going to pretend that Joel is yelling Hook 'em in this GIF, OK? Ok.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (from New in Town)

Warnings: SMUT :D. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 1.6k

“Oh come ON!” You were on your feet, yelling so loud at the TV that your throat was starting to hurt. Your fingers were so tight to the bottle of Shiner in your hand that you could feel the pressure of the glass on your nails. “What the fuck was that?” 

“What?” Tommy asked, still on the couch and already recovered from the brief disappointment from the Longhorns not able to keep Oklahoma from converting on a third down when they were still in their own territory. 

“That missed holding call!” You looked down at him and back at the TV. “Our guy was trying to turn and he couldn’t and they just let it happen, no laundry, nothing. What the fuck! Such bullshit.” 

You flopped back down on the couch with a huff, shaking your head as Joel looked at you, an amused expression on his face. 

“Don’t know what you’re so happy about,” you took a sip of beer. “They should be back 15 yards between that penalty and yards gained on that down. I swear if they score on this drive…” 

You’d become a college football fan since you’d gone to the first game with Joel and Tommy two years earlier. Part of it, you were sure, was because that first game would always be a glowingly happy memory for you. It was the first time you’d told Joel you loved him and the first time he said it to you in return, after all. The fact that you hadn’t even known what a down was before the kickoff hadn’t mattered. 

But Joel had also lovingly, patiently explained the game to you as it all unfolded on the field below and you absorbed it all. You’d always been a quick study and it helped that Joel loved the game, getting so excited about it that the happy look on his face anytime the Longhorns came up was plenty of encouragement to learn. 

You watched the game every Saturday with Joel and Tommy - and sometimes Sarah, too, now that she was back in Austin - and you quickly had a good grasp of the sport and the players. You kept your phone close so you could Google terms you didn’t know if Joel was too absorbed for you to want to ask him. You had a player roster pulled up at the start of the game so you could match the numbers on the screen to the person and their position. 

It had quickly gone from something you did because your then-boyfriend, now-fiance loved it to something you loved, too. 

“It looks like there was a missed holding call there,” one of the commentators said as the replay went on, rewinding again and playing it. “Right there…” they circled it on the screen and Tommy laughed. 

“Shit, Joel, your girl knows more about football than the refs do!” 

“Low fuckin’ bar this game,” you muttered and Joel took your unoccupied hand, pulling it to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You frowned, looking at him. “What?” 

He smiled and laughed a little. 

“What, a man’s not allowed to kiss his fiancee now and then?” 

You were about to reply when play started again and you got distracted. 

You were glued to the TV until the half and Joel excused himself. You were checking your email when you got a text from Joel. 

“Come to the bedroom,” it said. “Need help with something.” 

You frowned and set your empty beer down before calling to Tommy in the kitchen to ask him to grab you another and going to find Joel. 

“What do you…” you asked as you closed the bedroom behind you, but Joel didn’t give you a chance to finish. He grabbed you and pulled you into him, kissing you firm and deep, his tongue delving into your mouth. You opened for him, your arms going around his neck as you pressed yourself against him until you were breathless and separated from him. “ What’s this…” 

“Couldn’t not fuck you after hearin’ you talk about football like that,” he panted, voice needy. “One of the hottest damn things I’ve ever heard come out of that pretty mouth of yours…” 

He pulled you further into the room and you half-heartedly tried to take your hand back as he did. 

“Joel!” You hissed. “Tommy’s here! Sarah’s coming over for the second half and…” 

“Better be quick, then,” he said, tugging you to be in front of your dresser, a large mirror standing on the back of it. He shoved your skirt up around your waist and tugged your panties down, leaving them to fall to the floor once they were to your knees. He took you by the waist and put you on top of the dresser, your underwear going from around your ankles to off you completely. 

“Joel, this is going to be the damn BBQ all over again!” You protested as he ran a finger over your already wet slit. “You know we can’t be quiet…” 

“Tommy can deal,” he said, sliding a finger into you and you moaned, dropping your head to his shoulder. “You really gonna tell me you don’t want this?” 

His thumb brushed your clit and you shuddered against him. 

“No,” you panted. “But I swear if your brother hears us…” 

“Better be quiet and quick then,” he said, unzipping his jeans and freeing his thick length. You spread your legs wide and looked down to where Joel was trailing his drooling tip over you. 

“Joel,” you moaned, all quiet and breathy. “Fuck…” 

He slid into you in one swift motion with a satisfied grunt and you gasped at the intrusion, your walls making room for him. 

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, looking down at where he was buried inside you. “Look so pretty takin’ this cock… Don’t know how I got so lucky, getting a woman who feels this good and looks this good who loves football, goddamn….” 

He started fucking into you then, the thrusts hard and fast and deep. He pushed your thighs open wide and ran his hands up your legs to your center, his thumb brushing your clit. You moaned and he captured your mouth with a bruising kiss, his thumb pressing more firmly against you. 

“Gotta be quieter than that, beautiful,” he panted once he pulled away from your lips again. “Not if you want to keep what I’m doing to you in here to ourselves.” 

You whimpered but kept quiet, your orgasm building fast. Joel knew exactly how to fuck you now, exactly where inside you to touch with his almost punishing rhythm. Your channel started to tighten around him and you keened and pulled yourself up so that your chest was flush against him. His hands moved from your slit to your back, tucking your hips so your clit was pressed against his skin with every stroke. 

“Think you can be quiet if I make you come?” He panted into your ear. You just nodded against him. “Good, because I’m making you come all over me either way, need to feel this tight little pussy come all over me.” 

You pressed your mouth into his shoulder as you moaned, digging your nails into his back as Joel adjusted his angle ever so slightly, finding the best spots deep inside of you, making your body tighten more and more around him, the tension of aching pleasure drawing tighter and tighter until your whole body hurt with it. 

“There you go,” he said, breathless. “C’mon Baby, come on me, want to feel you milk my cock, you’re so close, just come for me, come all over me.” 

Your mouth was flush against his shoulder as you came with a desperate moan. Joel thrust deep and held himself inside as your sex fluttered and pulsed around him.

“Fuck you feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned. “Gonna fill you up, gonna….” 

He clenched is jaw and came, his cock throbbing and pumping his come into you as he clutched you close and tight. 

Joel held you like that for a minute after you both finished and he pulled back just enough to kiss you tenderly as he slid out of you. 

“Stay put,” he ordered, grabbing a towel out of the laundry bin and wiping you clean before slipping your panties back up your legs to your knees. “Already sending you out there looking all fucked out, can’t leave you a mess, too…” 

“I do not!” You protested and he laughed once before nodding to the mirror over your shoulder. You twisted to look at yourself and yeah, your pupils were blown and your lips were swollen from where he’d kissed you to keep you quiet. You looked back at him and leveled him with a glare. “This is all your fault!” 

“Think it’s more yours,” he smiled, like he was trying to keep from laughing. “You’re too damn sexy, talking about football like that.” 

“And I can’t resist you when you proposition me,” you said, sliding off the dresser and tugging your panties up and your skirt down. “One of us needs to learn how to keep their pants on…” 

“Don’t look at me,” he smiled, kissing your temple. “Don’t think I’ll ever be able to resist you.” 

“So we’re doomed,” you sighed but smiled. “Come on, Miller, before we miss the start of the third quarter. We’re receiving and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a hell of an opening drive…” 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we’re not leaving this room,” he said. 

“You’re just going to have to keep it together for the Longhorns’ sake,” you winked. 

He smiled back. 

“I’ll do my best.”