#so they can really only look at each other's faces when the other person is looking somewhere else

[pyract0]

Random thoughts with MHA men!

☁︎Lowkey just a heap of stupid ideas I had for different characters I thought were funny/ cute. Might extend on a few of these into longer fics if I find the time :) ☁︎Going back to finishing some requests after this! Sometimes read and can't process what I just read so might take a while to finish them all! Feel free to request but might be a bit slow at the moment, but I'll get through them when I can! ☁︎Not really any warnings other than swearing (Tried to keep it to a minimum but habit when I can't think of a fitting word)! Gn/ unspecified reader :))

╰┈➤ Katsuki Bakugo who follows a strict routine he set for himself to get the most out of the day, in bed by exactly 8:30. Yet he coincidently always happens to be awake when you try to sneak in and cuddle under the covers with him. Gets annoyed at you for "interfering" with his schedule, but he never lets himself fall asleep if he knows your planning to visit, even if at ridiculous hours of the night. ╰┈➤ Shoto Todoroki who lacks certain aspects of understanding when it comes to social cues, specifically the idea of personal space after you start dating. Will stand behind you breathing down your neck just wanting to be near you, not realising how odd it appears to anyone passing by. Similarly, will practically sit ON you instead of beside you, squeezing between you and anyone/anything so he can sit right beside you.

╰┈➤ Izuku Midoriya who often forgets or simply doesn't realise when his habit of rambling starts, sometimes scaring the shit out of you when he suddenly breaks the silence. Will need you to sometimes cover his mouth when out in public before he says something that would accidently make any sane person uncomfortable. Talked about murder out of context at least a few times and got y'all kicked out of somewhere </3

╰┈➤ Tenya Iida who understands the concept of money and it's overall value, but frankly doesn't care when it comes to you. Buys you awfully expensive items that reminds him of you/ thinks you'll like, hiding just how much he actually spent so you don't reject it (you know, you just don't have the heart to tell him.) Will gift you like it's only something small and beat himself up for not getting you something better (It cost more than what you make in 3 months). Prides himself on responsibility but it all falls out the window when about his decisions around you.

╰┈➤ Eijiro Kirishima who shows you off like some sort of deity, constantly praising anything and everything you do. Accidently degrades himself while praising you, saying how he doesn't deserve you (he's literally an angel :(( ). Will do anything for you, if you ask him or not, choosing to show just how much he loves you through his actions not just words. Tells you he loves you at least 5 times a day <3

╰┈➤ Neito Monoma who respects you even if you're in class 1a, never speaking poorly of you even when shitting on your class. Stops whenever you're nearby and starts acting all sweet like he wasn't badmouthing each of your classmates to their faces minutes prior. Another one who worships your every movement and the ground you walk on, but instead of degrading himself puts everyone else but the both of you down. (My favourite little menace)

╰┈➤ Hitoshi Shinsou who without fail whenever you're alone hands you some random ass cat inspired thing that reminded him of you. First it was a small succulent pot, next some really doped out looking cat plushie, then a little keychain of a black cat with a witches hat.. it just kept going. Gets you wondering how he manages to keep finding these objects, and how he always manages to have one when you see each other unplanned (He has a little hidden pocket where he stores the little strange trinkets) ╰┈➤ Rody Soul who sometimes activates his quirk, summoning Pino, at the most random hours of night. Will get woken up by your sudden screams, thinking you had a nightmare only for it to have been Pino scaring the shit out of you by sitting on your chest in the middle of the night and scrutinizing your very being (lovingly). Has been forced as a result to spend the next day begging for forgiveness for Pino's actions (He had a dream of you and she was just admiring you with the same level of affection as him, just hers a bit more creepy..)

╰┈➤ Mirio togata who even after years of practice with his quirk, happens to forget what activating it in normal clothes does. Has tried to phase through the ground to surprise you with his sudden appearance just to end up flashing you, both of you now sitting in embarrassment while your struggling to breathe through your laughter. Apologises before joining you in going along with your everyday life (It will happen again)

╰┈➤ Tamaki Amajiki who uses you as a form of protection, not from physical danger but from people trying to communicate with you both. Will hold your hand in his and stand right against your back, head often against yours or on your shoulder while he lets you talk for him as well as yourself. As soon as you finish, will drag you away to a more secluded area and embrace you with more confidence as a way of showing his appreciation for never complaining about his shying away from socialising.

╰┈➤ Giulio Gandini who chooses to not wear his eyepatch when you're both alone, trusting you in his most vulnerable form. Who is able to use his robotic eye as a camera, recording your interactions to preserve the memory. Often pulls up these moments on the screen of his prosthetic arm when you're apart, watching through them when he misses you. Moves certain ones to a USB and prints out photos to give you (some in lockets, some just as a copy to frame) leaving you confused on how he managed to get them. (I love him so much :(( lowkey the main reason I liked the 4th movie sm)

╰┈➤ Touya Todoroki/ Dabi who will only let you help when it comes to dyeing his hair (aka forces you when the black is washing out to help fix it up). Will sit on a random chair he dragged in or the edge of the bathtub while you touch up his roots, probably moves constantly unless you hold his head in place. Gets you to join him in the shower to help wash through it, being a little shit about it and smudging the dye on you so it'll stain.

╰┈➤ Tomura Shigaraki who refuses to touch you with all 5 of his fingers, even after he's confident in his abilities to control his quirk. Will always have a finger lifted from your body while he holds you in his embrace, wearing artist gloves when sleeping beside you just to be safe. Holds your hand constantly when alone like the touch starved person he is but never has a proper grasp, loosely intertwining your fingers while he leaves his pinkie away from your hand.

╰┈➤ Shota Aizawa who similar to his son has a habit of handing you random stuff when he returns home, though his are more concerning. If you had a nickel for every time he came home to hand you a kitten he found in an alley, you would have two but it was very strange it happened twice. Came home after his long shift one night and handed you a cat like it was just another causal Wednesday. So anyways you guys have 2 cats now :))

╰┈➤ Keigo Takami who likes to use his feathers to tickle you at the least expected times, often resulting in a fresh bruise the next day. Will each and every time forget you like to swing when his feathers are tickling at your sides, with your first or leg accidently colliding with some part of his body. One time was his face, another his calf, or the time you accidently hit him where the sun don't shine. He learnt to move back after that one..

[yailtsv]

Secret - p.b

💌 Syn: Azzi’s younger sister dates one of their teammates behind Azzi’s back

»»— warnings: none i don’t think

»»— notes: i hate how this one turned out 🤠

»»— word count: 917

»»— pair: Paige x Fudd!Gfreader

“shhh we gotta be quiet” you tell paige after she knocked something off of your dresser when sneaking in

paige just ignores you and picks up what she dropped and then closed and locked your bedroom door - heading towards you.

you and azzi share a dorm together with caroline, carols asleep and azzi’s in her room doing homework, so what did you do? called your girlfriend to come over

but…said girlfriend has to sneak in because you both are hiding your relationship. azzi would not approve of your relationship and you both aren’t gonna ask your teammates to lie for you so you can be public around them, that’s just insane.

so that gets you to where you are right now - watching paige get clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser, and then changing into those clothes

“movie and cuddles?” paige asked after putting the clothes she just took off, onto your desk chair for her to grab when she leaves

you nod, already getting in your bed and under the covers, making paige do the same

you both fell asleep watching the movie, all cuddled up together. but you both woke up to consistent knocking, only waking up fully when you heard azzi say through the door “alright fine i’m using the key” making both of you sit up startled, but before you could move and push paige into your closet the door had opened and in walked azzi.

you could see azzi’s facial expression change, you could tell when she put the scene in front of her together in her brain, you could also see the look of hurt and betrayal all across her face

“az-“ “no! do not say anything!” she tells you before turning to face paige “you’re sleeping with my sister? AFTER i told you she was off limits?”

paige doesn’t really know what to say. azzi’s right, she did tell paige that you were off limits - and has been telling her since paige and azzi first met - which was years ago. paige did follow through with that, up until last year.

she never showed she was attracted to you - she was even in denial with her feelings for you. she always treated you as a friend - a very close friend but a friend.

she never thought you and her would eventually become a thing, she always fully intended to keep you at arms length - so that azzi wouldn’t be mad at her.

she’s not really sure on the time stamp of when she accepted her feelings, but whenever it was, was one of the greatest days. the even better day, was when she finally decided to do something with her feelings - that’s the day you guys started dating.

you and her have been dating for a little over a year now. she thought you guys wouldn’t be caught this far along, and she was wrong, and she’s having a difficult time on swallowing this pill.

“az- i’m sorry” paige stutters out, kinda overwhelmed with this situation “YOU’RE sorry?! you can date anyone in the world, and you chose the ONE person that i said was off limits, and you’re sorry?!”

“azzi i’m an adult, i can date who i want to date.” you tell her, wanting this conversation to be over

“you’re also my little sister dating MY best friend.” azzi responded back, still mad about the situation “why are you making it sound like she’s not my friend too? we’re all teammates, we’re all friends, we didn’t tell you we were seeing each other because we knew you were gonna act like this.”

“act like what?! i told both of you that i didn’t want you guys to ever date each other and look what’s happening now! you guys couldn’t of just respected that wish? i don’t ask anything of either of you but the one thing i do, you go behind my back and do it any ways?”

“azzi that’s not fair-“ paige starts but got cut off “fair?! you wanna talk about being fair?” “if you would let me talk that would be great!” paige said after cutting azzi off

azzi stopped talking and crossed her arms over her chest looking at paige expectingly “go on”

“we both did what you asked. we ignored each other romantically until last year, we spent all of our time together since me and you met at arms length, we’ve done everything, and unexpectedly fell for each other in that time. we are both adults, we can both do what we want - and what we want is to be with each other. you can’t stop us from dating, we’ve respected your wish this whole time but you never say why we can’t date you just say to not date, and that’s not fair at all. if your gonna forbid us from doing something at least tell us why. and until you can come up with a good reason - we’re gonna continue seeing each other”

azzi just looks at paige, her arms still crossed over her chest “i love her” paige replied again after a few moments of silence

azzi doesn’t say anything but after a few seconds walks out the door and back to her room. you and paige both make eye contact before sighing out loud

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

requested on wattpad

[honeyncherry]

we never tell - joe burrow

summary who could blame you? the night before thanksgiving was never meant to be innocent — especially not when the boy you’ve known forever looks at you like he’s already decided to ruin you

content 18+, smut, language, alcohol

prev

The bar is loud. Too loud. Voices crash over each other, music shaking the walls, laughter splintering through the chaos. The air swirls with spilled beer, sweat, and cheap perfume. A cocktail of regret already in the making. It all clings to you, settling within your skin. 

The heat inside is nearly unbearable, a sharp contrast to the biting Ohio cold just beyond the fogged-up windows.

You push through the crowd, brushing past bodies pressed too close together, faces blurring under the neon glow. Familiar ones. Unfamiliar ones. Ones you hoped you’d never see again.

Same bar, same people, same exhausting routine playing out like clockwork.

You don’t usually look forward to this night — this annual reunion of your hometown’s finest washed-up athletes, ex-prom queens, and guys who still bring up their glory days at state championships like they happened yesterday.

But it’s tradition.

And tradition says you show up, smile when people ask about the semester thus far, dodge questions about your major, sip overpriced drinks, and pretend you care about who got engaged or knocked up this year.

This is only your second Blackout Wednesday.

Sophomore year means you’re not a newbie anymore, but you’re not a regular either. You know the drill now. The way the bartenders barely glance at the fake IDs slid across the counter, even though they grew up with half the people using them.

You’ve watched guys you went to elementary school with order rounds of shots like they didn’t once throw up grape juice in the cafeteria. Girls who used to sneer at you in the hallways now drunkenly grabbing your hand in the bathroom, slurring about how much they "missed you soooo much."

It’s all fake. A well-rehearsed play where everyone pretends they aren’t counting down the minutes until they can escape this town again.

Still, you’re here.

Because what else is there to do?

You’re halfway through your first drink when you see Joe.

It shouldn’t be surprising, Thanksgiving means everyone comes home. 

Home from his first year at LSU, taller and broader, shoulders filling out the long-sleeved black shirt stretched over his frame. He looks different, but not in a way that makes you stare, more in a way that makes you double-take.

You remember when he was deciding where to go after graduating OSU. The transfer talk had stretched through the beginnings of the year, the same names cycling through every conversation your brother and his friends had at the house. North Carolina? Nebraska? Alabama?

And then it happened:

Cincinnati.

Your head had perked up. Just slightly. Just enough for you to feel stupid about it later.

It wasn’t like it would’ve meant anything. It wasn’t like you would’ve seen him, not really. The University of Cincinnati was huge and you were wrapping up your freshman year. You weren’t sure why it even mattered. Why, for a brief second, the idea of your worlds overlapping for the first time beyond family ties, felt like something worth entertaining.

But then, suddenly, it wasn’t a thought at all.

Because LSU happened.

And when his family held that small going-away gathering, there was no red and black in sight. No UC decorations, no Bearcat colors bleeding into the napkins or tablecloths. Just purple and gold. Bold, glaring, almost mocking.

You remember standing in front of the dessert table, staring at royal frosting of all things like it had personally insulted you.

Some nights, when the dorm was too quiet and your phone screen was the only light in the room, you’d find yourself typing his name into Google. Just once. Just to check.

Never interest. Never anything more.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

It wasn’t hard to keep up. LSU was making noise, and so was he. His name started popping up in articles, on Twitter, tucked into game recaps with words like poised and potential thrown around like confetti. You’d skim them, half-engaged, never needing to look too hard because if you didn’t see his name online, you’d hear it from your mom.

"Robin says Joe’s adjusting well down there…" she’d mention casually, somewhere between asking if you needed more laundry detergent and updating you on which neighbors had finally sold their house.

Sometimes, she’d go on. He really likes Baton Rouge… Jimmy says the coaches are impressed… Robin says they miss having him around.

But sometimes, she wouldn’t.

And when enough time passed without a mention, without hearing his name tucked neatly into conversation like it had always been, you’d find yourself searching again.

Just to know.

And then you’d close the tab, lock your phone, roll over in bed, and never think about it again.

Until now.

Because now, he’s here, standing in the middle of your hometown bar like he isn’t creeping into conversations, like his name isn’t slipping into headlines, like he isn’t the reason some guy at the other end of the counter is repping purple and gold instead of Bengals orange.

He’s different. Or maybe it’s just that, for the first time, you’re seeing him as something other than the annoying older boy who was always there, easy to roll your eyes at and even easier to ignore.

You look away.

It doesn’t matter.

Or at least, it shouldn’t.

But something lingers. The kind of awareness that prickles along your skin, that makes your fingers tense around your drink, that keeps your shoulders squared even as you force yourself to focus on something else.

He’s not looking at you.

Not that you can tell.

But you can feel him.

Somewhere past the crush of people near the bar, past the bodies leaning against sticky tabletops, past the haze of smoke and too-loud music and bad decisions waiting to happen: he’s there.

And maybe it’s just in your head, it could be nothing. Maybe it’s that he’s familiar, but not in the way he used to be.

Because you know the set of his shoulders, the way he pushes his hand through his hair when he’s thinking, the way his jaw tenses when he’s listening but not speaking.

You know him without knowing him.

And yet, the weight of his presence is pressing into you like a hand at the small of your back.

You huff and try to shake it off.

"Bathroom?" one of your friends says beside you, looping her arm through yours before you can respond.

You let her pull you along, weaving through the throng of people, past someone attempting to order another round, past a couple making out against the wall like they’ve forgotten they’re in public.

The bathroom is a war zone, as expected.

Girls pressed together in front of the mirrors, smudging eyeliner with unsteady hands, fixing lipstick that’s already faded from stolen kisses and mixed drinks. Strangers throwing compliments like candy: oh my god, your hair looks amazing and I love your dress, where’d you get it? whispered between girls who wouldn’t acknowledge each other outside of tonight.

You slip into a stall, locking the door, leaning against it for just a second.

The bass vibrates through the walls. The distant hum of voices, the occasional burst of laughter. You inhale deeply, steadying yourself.

It’s fine. 

You’re fine.

And if you say it enough times, maybe you’ll believe it.

By the time you wash your hands and step back into the crowd, your drink is gone, condensation leaving a damp circle on the table where you left it. Your friends have drifted toward the dance floor, the blur of movement and music swallowing them whole.

You decide on another drink, pushing your way toward the bar and waiting your turn only for someone to shove past at the last second, slamming a twenty onto the counter and barking out their order over the noise.

Your eyes narrow. Brandon Wilkes.

Of course it’s him. Always cutting ahead, always acting like he was owed something. You roll your eyes and shoot him a glare, resisting the urge to call him out. Some things never change.

"Didn’t think I’d see you here."

The words slip through the noise — smooth like they belong there.

Your breath catches. A pause, just long enough for recognition to crawl up your spine.

Joe.

Closer than before, the sharp angles of his face softened by dim lighting, his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they settle on yours.

You swallow, tilting your chin slightly. "Didn’t think I’d see you either."

His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but something close. "Guess we’re all bound to make a few questionable decisions tonight."

You nod, shifting your weight onto your other foot. "Wouldn’t be Blackout Wednesday without a little regret."

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Regret, huh?"

"Regret," you confirm.

His eyes flicker down to your empty hand, then back up, considering. "What are you drinking?"

It’s not a question, more like a next move.

You hesitate for a second before giving him the answer.

Before you can even think about ordering yourself, Joe lifts a hand, barely even a motion, and the bartender is there in an instant. Of course.

You bite back a scoff as she leans in, all too eager, but Joe doesn’t so much as glance at her. Just gives your order, smooth and easy, like it was never up for debate.

And just like that, the bartender slides a fresh drink across the counter, and Joe beats you to it, picking it up before you can reach for it.

Your fingers brush when he hands it to you.

And it’s nothing.

But it’s also not.

You take a sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. "Trying to get me drunk, Burrow?"

His smirk deepens. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, quick, unconscious. He leans in just slightly, just enough to see if you’ll move. "Don’t think you need my help with that."

Your stomach flips and you hate that it does. You hate the way your body reacts before your mind can catch up. The way the bar suddenly feels too warm, the noise fading into something distant, like nothing else matters except the inches of space between you.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid.

It’s inevitable.

One drink turns into two.

Two turn into stolen glances, subtle but unmistakable. A slow, unraveling pull that neither of you acknowledge out loud.

The brush of his arm against yours, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric of your sleeves. The way your conversations slip into something easier than they should be, like you’ve done this before, like you’ve always known how to hold a conversation between each other.

And then a touch.

A simple thing, really.

It’s subtle at first, fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt like a passing thought, something fleeting and unintentional. But then he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand sticks, settling against your waist, his thumb brushing over your side in a way that feels effortless but also like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away.

He leans in, voice low, threading through the noise of the bar like it belongs there. His breath is warm against your skin, steady, even, completely at ease. The conversation around you dissolves into background static, something distant and irrelevant, because suddenly, this is the only thing you can focus on. 

Your breath catches, you glance up, and that’s the moment everything shifts.

Because when you meet his gaze, when you catch the flicker of something dark, something hungry in his expression, you know.

And so does he.

All you can hear is the low thud of the bass and the shallow breath you take in when Joe shifts closer, when the heat of him presses into your side. His palm flexes just slightly, enough for you to feel it, enough to make your stomach tighten.

And then he leans in.

Slow. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring the moment before it happens.

His breath is warm against your skin when he speaks, just for you. "You gonna stop me?"

You should.

You know you should.

You should think about what happens after this, about how easy it would be to fall into something that was never meant to be.

But you don’t.

Your body betrays you first, tilting toward him, your fingers brushing his forearm where it rests against the bar. His jaw tenses at the contact, his fingers curling tighter against you, his head tipping down just slightly, just enough for his lips to hover above yours. 

His eyes flicker, searching yours, asking a question without saying a word.

And you answer by not moving away.

It would be so easy.

So easy to close the gap. So easy to give in, to let this spiral into something neither of you can take back.

But then—

A sharp burst of laughter, too close, too jarring, snaps you back into reality. A body stumbles into Joe’s back, jostling both of you just enough to break the moment. The spell fractures, and you blink, breath catching in your throat as the bar crashes back into focus. It’s loud and crowded. Filled with too many people, too many eyes.

Joe’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the room. His fingers squeeze once more against your skin before he pulls back. "Come on," he murmurs, barely audible over the noise. 

Your pulse pounds as he nods toward the door. You hesitate for less than a second before following behind him, glancing over your shoulder and realizing everyone is too busy to notice the two of you leaving together.

The air outside is crisp, sharp against your flushed skin, but it does nothing to cool you down. Joe walks ahead, his pace slow and measured like he’s thinking. Like he’s trying not to think. 

The parking lot is mostly empty, just a few cars left. You recognize his truck instantly, parked toward the back under a flickering street lamp and distant from the other cars.

He stops beside the driver’s side, one hand gripping the handle, the other resting against his side. He exhales, his breath visible in the air and his head tips back slightly before he looks at you.

It’s different out here.

No music to drown out your thoughts. No crowd to get lost in. Just the sound of the wind, the distant hum of traffic, the weight of his stare. The space between you feels bigger now, stretched thin by the cold and the quiet. More time to think. More time to overthink.

His gaze locks onto you like he’s seeing something he can’t turn away from and that makes his jaw shift, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to move, to close the last bit of space between you.

But then he does.

A step forward. Then another.

His hand lifts, fingertips grazing your wrist first, barely there, before slowly sliding up the length of your arm. His palm finds your waist, the same way it had inside, only now there’s nothing stopping him.

His lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead he dips his head, his nose brushing along your temple before his mouth finds your jaw. The first drag of his lips is barely a kiss, more of a test, a question traced against your skin to make sure this is real.

Like he needs you to know that this is happening.

"Tell me you want this."

The words come out against the soft skin beneath your ear. His lips linger, moving slowly, tracing a path down your jaw, stopping just at the corner of your mouth.

Your body answers before you do. Your fingers tighten into the fabric of his shirt, your breath hitching and head tilting slightly, giving him more. Giving into him.

"Tell me." His pulse hammers beneath your touch, a steady, thrumming beat against your palm as your hands slide higher, over his shoulders, curling around the back of his neck. Joe exhales sharply, the sound making it seem like he’s barely holding himself together.

You don’t answer him with words.

You tilt your chin up, closing the space between you, pressing into him until there’s nothing left but heat. Your lips part, hovering just close enough that you can feel his breath mix with yours, can feel the way he’s waiting, hanging onto the moment like he needs it just as badly as you do.

And then, he gives in.

His mouth crashes against yours, a searing pull that steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers tighten at your waist, flexing like he’s making sure you don’t slip away, like letting go isn’t an option. 

The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. Not when your nails scrape lightly against the nape of his neck. Not when he groans against your lips, the sound low and raw, before his grip tightens, his other hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

He pulls you closer and closer until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the undeniable weight of whatever this is. His tongue slips past your lips, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you, the sound swallowed by his mouth. 

His hands are everywhere; on your waist, your back, your hips — all like he can’t decide where to touch you first, like he’s trying to memorize every curve of your body.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes search yours, "get in the truck." 

You don’t hesitate. You climb into the backseat, the leather cold against your hands, but you barely notice. Joe follows, his movements quick and borderline impatient as he shuts the door behind him. The space is intimate, the windows already fogging up from the heat of your bodies.

Joe’s hands are on you again, laying you down gently while his fingers sliding underneath the hem of your top. His lips find yours once more, his kiss harder this time, more demanding. You can feel the need in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying to keep control. 

But when your hands slide down his chest, feeling the hard lines of his body through the fabric of his shirt, he groans against your lips, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. "You’re driving me fucking crazy.” His hands slither up your thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

"Do something about it," you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears it. His eyes darken, his jaw tightening. Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling your jeans down, his hands rough but careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you.

A flicker of self-consciousness washes over you, but it disappears as quickly as the heat of his body sinks into you, settling himself between your legs. His hands caress your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. "Couldn’t stop looking at you all night,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You can feel the hardness of him pressing against you, the sensation stealing the air from your lungs. You lift up to capture his lips, nipping at him, unable to stop the way your hips instinctively arch to meet him. Your body moves on its own, desperate for more.

Joe’s breath hitches, his lips trailing a path of fire as they move lower, scattering kisses across your collarbone. His hands, calloused yet gentle, slide up your sides, pushing the fabric of your top higher until your skin is exposed to the chill of the truck’s interior. But you can’t feel the cold, not when his touch burns hotter than anything else.

“So soft,” he murmurs, his voice almost reverent as his fingers trace the curve of your waist. His touch is slower now, as though he’s savoring every inch of you. His lips follow, kissing a line down your sternum, his breath warm against your skin.

You shiver, your hands tangling in his hair and urging him closer. His name escapes your lips in a whisper, a sound that seems to ignite something deep within him. He groans, the vibration of it sending a jolt through you.

His eyes flick up to yours, and for a moment he just watches. His chest rises and falls with the same urgency that’s coursing through your veins, and then, without a word, he lowers his head again, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your panties.

Your back arches, a soft gasp escaping you as his hands move up your thighs, his fingers hooking into the lace and sliding them down. His touch is teasing as if he’s testing your limits.

When his lips finally meet the heat between your legs, you nearly cry out. His mouth is warm, his tongue sliding against you in a slow, skilled motion that has your fingers tightening in his hair. He’s relentless, his movements measured yet unwavering as though he’s determined to unravel you completely.

“Jesus—” he chokes out your name, his voice muffled against you. “Taste so good,” the vibrations of his words send a shiver up your spine. His hands grip your hips and hold you in place as his tongue circles that one sensitive spot, driving you closer to the brink with every flick, every stroke.

You can feel the tension building, coiling tight in your core, but Joe doesn’t let up. His pace quickens, his tongue moving faster, more urgently, until you’re gasping for air, your hips bucking against him.

“Joe, I—I can’t—” you stammer, your voice breaking as the pleasure crests, threatening to overwhelm you.

But he doesn’t stop. His hand trails up, fingertips skimming over your stomach, teasing, exploring, until he reaches the lace of your bra. There’s no hesitation, just an easy push of the cup, baring you to him. His thumb grazes over your nipple before he pinches, rolling it between his fingers, his grip firm, possessive.

The sensation sends a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your belly as the sharp edge of pleasure tightens, unraveling the last threads of restraint. Your body tenses, a cry slipping from your lips as the wave builds, crests, and crashes over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Joe doesn’t stop — not yet. His mouth still moves against you, coaxing out every last shudder, every last breathless moan. His hands hold you steady, his grip firm, grounding, as if he’s keeping you tethered to him while you fall apart.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glisten and he watches you — really watches you. For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. Guilt? Hesitation? Regret?

But then it’s gone.

His gaze darkens, hands sliding up to frame your face, thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles over your cheeks. Like he needs you to feel it, to feel him. To know he’s here.

And then he moves.

His body presses flush against yours, the heat of him searing through the layers still between you, his length hard and insistent against your thigh. The thought, the uncertainty, dissolves beneath the weight of him, beneath the way his mouth finds yours in another kiss, deeper this time, hungrier.

You taste yourself on his tongue, and the sound that leaves you is nothing short of desperate. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, gripping, pulling, needing more.

Joe groans, the sound reverberating between you as his hips roll forward, grinding against you, the friction sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you. His breath shudders against your lips, his hands tightening where they hold you, like he’s just as lost in this as you are.

“Please,” you beg, your voice trembling with need.

Joe hesitates, his eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. His jaw tenses, his breath uneven, and then he nods, his fingers curling around the waistband of his jeans. The sound of his zipper is deafening in the quiet of the truck, each metallic click sending another pulse of anticipation through you.

And then he’s there, guiding himself to you, his breath catching as he pushes inside.

A sharp gasp escapes you, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches you, inch by excruciating inch. He goes slow, like he’s savoring every second, his forehead pressing against yours when he finally sinks all the way in. His body shudders against you, “you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice rough, almost pained.

Your fingers twitch against his skin, needing more, needing to feel him. You reach for his shirt, bunching the fabric, pushing it up just enough to reveal the solid warmth of his stomach, the defined ridges of his abdomen. Your palms slide over him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the way his muscles tense under your touch.

He grunts at the contact, his body responding instantly. His hips shift, just slightly, but the movement is enough to have you whimpering, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper.

That’s all the encouragement he needs.

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, slow at first, dragging every thrust out like he wants to commit this to memory. But it doesn’t last, his control frays too quickly and soon, he’s driving into you with a force that steals the air from your lungs.

The sounds between you; his breath, ragged and uneven, the wet slap of skin against skin, the soft creak of leather beneath you, fill the small space, drowning out the world beyond the truck.

Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, every noise he makes only fuels the fire burning inside you. His hands roam, gripping, teasing, pushing you closer to the edge until it’s too much, until the pleasure coils so tight you feel like you might snap.

“Joe, I’m—” The words are barely out before he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot that has your vision blurring, your body bowing into him, every thought dissolving into pure sensation.

He groans, his pace quickening, his thrusts turning rougher, more desperate, his breath hot against your skin. “C’mon,” he rasps, voice thick with need. “Let me feel it.”

And you do.

Your body tightens, your back arching as pleasure overtakes you, crashing through you in waves, leaving you breathless, trembling beneath him. The sound that escapes you is involuntary, raw, and it sets something off in him. Joe follows a second later, his hips stuttering, his movements turning jerky as he buries himself deep, a ragged groan ripping from his throat as he comes.

For a moment, the only thing that exists is the sound of your heavy breathing, tangled together, filling the confined space of the truck. His forehead presses against yours, his body still trembling with the aftershocks, and for just a second, everything else fades.

But then his grip on you loosens. The heat of his hands disappears, replaced by the cool air settling in the space between you. Reality creeps back in, slow but certain.

Joe exhales, shifting back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of uneven breaths. He moves sluggishly, almost like he’s reluctant, lifting his hips just enough to drag his boxers and jeans back up. His fingers fumble with the button before securing it, and then he rakes a hand through his damp hair.

And just like that, the shift is instant.

The momentary haze shatters, and cold clarity rushes in.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, your skin still tingling where his hands had been, but the weight of what just happened slams into you all at once.

You move fast, scrambling to pull your pants up, to fix your shirt, to smooth down the mess of your hair — to piece yourself back together before it all slips too far out of reach. Your fingers shake as you fumble with the fabric, your breath still uneven, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You need to leave.

Just for a second, your eyes lock with his. Joe doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t try to stop you. He just watches with an unreadable expression and parted lips, like he might speak. 

But he doesn’t. 

You don’t wait for him to. Your fingers wrap around the door handle and you push it open, stepping out into the night. The air is sobering, biting against your skin, but it does nothing to take away the feel of him.

You don’t look back, because no amount of distance can undo what’s already been done.

[bizarrelovetriangel]

missing you.

mdni. 18+ only. not for the kids, pls look away. male masturbation. panty sniffing. pillow humping. pervy caleb. caleb and reader/mc are in a relationship.

hello i'm joining caleb-the-panty-sniffer club and this is my contribution. please enjoy.

inspired by these arts: x, x, x

You were out of town for hunters business, and Caleb volunteered to check up on your house. While he's at it, might as well do some cleaning too.

But he gets a little distracted.

Last week, during your video call, you mentioned to Caleb that your team has been requested to go to a certain city that's been having Wanderer problems. The mission is estimated to last for about five to seven days, and you expressed concern about your newest plants that require to be watered at least every two to three days, which might die without your care.

So of course, Caleb is there to take away your worries. He promised to go to Linkon City in the middle of the week to make sure your plants get the nutrients they need.

Now here he is, inside your apartment's living room, putting away the objects that you'd left scattered all over the place. He imagined you putting things in your luggage at the very last minute before leaving for your trip. You've always done that when you were younger, and it seems old habits die hard.

Back when you were little, once you finish shoving plushies in your bag, deeming them to be absolutely necessary, you'd come to him so he can help you close the zippers.

This time, you didn't forget to take your plushies either. The Sunny Apple that he won with you at the claw machine was gone, which means it's probably keeping you company right now. The thought of you cuddling with the grumpy-looking apple puts a smile on his face.

After watering your plants, Caleb moved on to cleaning the kitchen. Your place isn't really messy; there are just several objects that were out of place, so there's not much work for him.

The last area that he took care of was the bedroom, where he will be sleeping for the rest of the week. The moment he entered your room, he was consumed by the smell of your signature perfume. If he were to close his eyes, it would feel as if you were there.

The scent also made him feel lonely. It's been days since he last saw you, as both of your jobs robbed you of each other's physical presence. Fortunately, once you return from your hunting trip, you two get to spend a few days together, so he's looking forward to it.

Caleb studied the collage of personal pictures you have on the wall, not too far from your nightstand. A lot of them are you and him from various age, a couple are of you and Zayne, plus a recent one with Caleb between you and the doctor.

There are also photographs of you with your coworkers, including the silver-haired guy that you're often partnered with. In all the group pictures, he's always, always next to you.

He's the one that's seeing all the cute expressions you're making right now.

Caleb shakes the jealous thoughts out of his head and lies down on your bed. It's the afternoon, just around the time for the sun to set. He's not sleepy at all, but the warmth and softness of your bed, combined with your fragrant scent, is just so alluring, his body was obligated to sink into it.

"Hmm? What's this?"

Caleb's left hand got a hold of something that you'd forgotten to either put in your luggage or put in the dirty laundry.

Something soft.

Something red.

His fingers grasped the material and held it above his face so he could see what it is.

"Ah...."

His face instantly feels warm at the sight of your underwear. Red panties.

He had seen you wear this before. He also remembers, quite vividly, him sliding it off your legs before pressing his lips and tongue at your core like a starving predator.

He rememebered how you felt. How you tasted.

His mouth watered.

His cock hardened.

His fingers twitched as he lowered his hand towards his face. Caleb closed his eyes and pressed the panty against his nose.

"Fuck..."

His other hand rose to his chest as heat from his rushing blood spread across his body, down to his stomach, through his hips, and pooled between his thighs.

His mind replayed the memory of you resting your back against the bed's headboard, your fingers tangled through his hair while his face is buried between your thighs.

Caleb rubbed his cock over his gray sweatpants, thinking of the face you make as his tongue drives you on edge.

He took another whiff of the red underwear and stained his own boxers as he become even more aroused.

His hips thrusted up as he stroke himself faster, pretending it was your hand that was touching him.

He pictured your mouth around his cock, cheeks flushed, eyes filled with lust as they flicker back to his, making sure he was feeling good. Your eyes would get teary when he'd lose restraints and put himself deeper in your mouth.

A groan comes out between his lips. He pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, smearing his pre-cum all over his aching cock before running his hand up and down, slowly, just like how you like to start and finish.

He needed you, so bad. But you weren't there.

He was surrounded by your scent.

He was on your bed.

Licking his lips, Caleb turned over and buried his face on one of your pillows.

He grinds his cock on your bedsheet, imagining that you were underneath him, crying out his name with pleasure with your honeyed voice that he'll never get tired of hearing even in the after life.

"N- not enough.... it's not enough..." He was pumping his cock while humping your bed, yet he was only getting harder.

It feels like he was going to burst but couldn't.

Caleb threw off his shirt as the sweat from all his movement and body heat made his clothes uncomfortably stuck to his skin.

Despite his tensed body, his hold on your underwear was gentle, as if it was your actual body.

He sniffed the red panty once again before moving it down to his lips. His tongue ran over the crotch, and his cock throbbed. He could almost taste you, as if you were actually there.

He whispered your name with desperation, right hand grasping the bedsheet, needing to feel you against him.

Letting out a ragged breath, he took another pillow and placed it under his hips. Caleb closed his eyes and a moan escapes his lips at the friction.

He immediately set a brutal pace, rutting against your pillow while his closed eyes sees your figure, taking him in deep and tight. You're scratching his back and mewling against his ear as he pounds into you so hard that the world is shaking.

Sweat causes his body to glisten while your bed quakes from all of his movements.

He didn't - or rather, couldn't, silence his moans as the red fabric was wrapped around his cock. He ran it up and down before spreading it over the pillow and grinding against it.

It wasn't you, but it still felt heavenly.

"Fuck. fuck.... so good..."

He was close.

Faster. Harder.

Caleb increased his speed on humping your bed, feeling his body tightening up.

Ring ring ring.

"W- what?!"

He jumped at the sound of his own phone ringing. Someone was calling him. More importantly, it was the special ringtone for you.

Luckily, it wasn't a video call. He'd usually prefer a video call so he can see your lovely face, no matter the time of the day, but today.... might not be a good idea.

"F-fuck." He was absolutely not in the right state to talk to you clearly.

Decline?

No, he couldn't.

He could never.

"Heya, pip-squeak," he breathes out slowly, carefully, as if his heart isn't racing. "Missed me already?" he asks playfully, as if he wasn't the one that was fucking your panties right now.

"Yeah, I do. I have to hold my bags by myself because Caleb isn't around."

"So nice to hear that you're thinking about me." He grins, while his hips continued to move with caution so you wouldn't detect any of the lewd noises he was making.

"Well, yeah.... I do miss you, Caleb." you replied softly, setting the jokes aside. "I'm so far away from Linkon. It's so different here, and it just feels lonely. I guess I'm just feeling homesick..."

You're feeling homesick and you're thinking of him. It's just like when he goes to Skyhaven. He was always thinking of you. The one that he comes home to.

"Caleb..."

The way you said his name caused his stomach to flutter, and his cock to twitch.

Fuck.

Your voice.

"Caleb."

"Mhmmmm..."

With your panty wrapped around his cock, he thrusted deeply into the pillow as if was you. Over and over and over again.

"Caleb..."

He's so close.

Faster.

Deeper.

"Caleb?"

The bed was shaking and screeching from how hard he was going. He'd forgotten about everything.

"Hnnngg,,,"

"Caleb!"

Not a second after you called out his name, Caleb reached his climax. The panty was shoved in his mouth to muffle out the whimpers that fell from his drooling mouth.

He came hard, all over your pillow and spilled onto the bedsheet, some in his hips and stomach.

"Caleb?"

His eyes opened widely as if he'd just woken up from a trance. "Yes, honey?"

"Are you okay? Did you hear what I said? Are you busy?"

He gulped. "I'm good, pip-squeak. I'm already at your place, just... cleaning up, so that it's all nice and pretty when you get back in two days. You should hurry back or else your plants might die from missing you too much."

"Just my plants? You don't miss me?"

On, you have no idea.

"Hmph. I guess I won't give you any of the souvenirs I bought for you."

You are so cute and so precious.

He wants to kiss you so badly.

"Why don't you come home so you can see out how badly I need you..... next to me..." he adds the last part quickly.

Caleb could practically hear you smile at the other line, causing the ends of his own lips to curl up with joy, eyes brightening as he thinks of your face.

"I'm coming home soon. Wait for me, Caleb."

"I'll wait for as long as you need me."

Once the call ended, Caleb sighs loudly and slumps on the bed, wincing at the wet mess he made.

Now he has even more cleaning up to do.

///////

You paused as you entered your bedroom after enjoying the brunch that Caleb cooked for you upon your arrival at your sweet home.

"You changed my bedsheets?"

"It was starting to get a little dusty. You're welcome."

[maskedcrawford]

Green Eyed Monster

G-Dragon x Reader x platonic! Jackson Wang

Summary: You and Jackson Wang get close through work and your ex isn't too keen on the fact that it looks like you've moved on.

Warnings: Some angst, fluff at the end.

A/N: Thank you to anon who requested, I got to try my hand at writing for Jackson Wang and I'm going to OPEN requests for him if you guys want something. Leave a like and/or a reblog if you enjoy! Much love <3

Requests are OPEN

You’re sitting in the makeup chair when you feel a pair of hands delicately touch your shoulders. You look up from your phone in the mirror and you see his big dark eyes and light brown hair in the mirror.

“Well, it took ya long enough, J,” you say with a teasing smile as you get up and hug him. You and Jackson Wang had been working together for the last 4 months on a song for your album and today you were shooting the video.

“Always a pleasure,” he says genuinely and returns your hug. Were you and Jackson together? No. Were there rumors about such things? Absolutely. The song being about love didn’t help matters. You guys had known each other briefly through mutual friends but when you had the idea for the song, you knew his vocals would take it to the next level.

“Jackson, Y/N!” the director shouts and you two spring into action with the video. The video itself was pretty intimate; the two of you on a bed tangled together in the sheets, touching, be all close and having no sense of personal space whatsoever. But, Jackson is a professional.

“So if I put my hand here,” he’s talking to the director and looks at you and you give him a nod before he touches your hip.

“And then I can slide it up like this,” he does the motion and pulls you closer to him.

“Yeah, that’ll work perfectly,” your director says and you roll with it.

“Let’s move on to the kiss,” the director announces after that scene. You blush as the time comes for the practical make out session that’s needed for the scene. Jackson was obviously cute, and him so being so respectful and kind? That only made it worse.

You can’t help the nervous laugh as you two are placed together and he starts smiling at you.

“You ok?” he asks genuinely, “We can figure something else out if we need to, find another way to,” you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m fine, seriously. Just don’t eat my face,” you wink at him with a chuckle. He gives you a gorgeous smile while shaking his head.

“Might be hard, you’re lookin extra good in that outfit,” he subtly looks you up and down. You two had a flirty relationship, but both of you knew it wouldn’t really go anywhere. The scene commences and you lock lips passionately and for a brief moment you forget its for a music video, that is until you hear the director call cut and you both slowly separate, a slight blush on both of your cheeks.

“That was great, guys. We’ll pick it up tomorrow!”

The video is done after a few days and the album dropped four months later. Your adventures continue with a world tour together, but tonight you were performing at the infamous MAMA awards. Since you two were doing a love song it was known that you would have to kiss for the sake of the performance.

“Look, people love us together,” you smile as you show him a picture you posted with a bunch of likes. He smiles as he clicks on the comments.

“This isn’t helping the dating rumors ya know,” he winks at you playfully and you roll your eyes.

“Us kissing every night doesn’t either, not to mention neither one of us have confirmed or denied anything. Besides, who we go out with really isn’t their business.”

“Ever since you made headlines with G-Dragon though, they think it is,” he corrects you.  You raise your eyebrows with a sigh that confirms he isn’t wrong.

You and Jiyong had been together 4 years, until the beginning of this year. Schedules got in the way, and Ji had admitted to kissing another woman at a party when he was drunk. It was a one-time thing and for a while you were able to move past it, but eventually, everything came crashing down.

“How could you still not trust me?” he shouted. You were in tears, your nerves were shot and honestly you didn’t want to have the argument.

“You were all over her, Ji. Tell me I’m lying! You kissed another woman before, it’s not like you couldn’t do that and more,” your voice was bitter and weak from tears.

“Oh my god, are you ever going to let it go?” he looked annoyed, he looked weak and desperate to escape the mistake that played through your mind more than you cared to admit. You loved him more than anything, more than life itself practically. But who was he to tell you how long it took to heal? Who was he to say that he atoned for what he did just because of a few ways he tried to make it up to you. Girls were constantly all over him so it wasn’t like he was in short supply. It had caused you to feel insecure, regardless of whether or not he was drunk.

The two of you stayed silent, deafeningly silent, until Ji finally sighs and rubs his temple with his fingers.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he mumbles, “I can’t keep paying for this when I think I’ve proven I’m not that person,” his eyes are cold, depleted of life. It broke him to do this, but he didn’t see any other way.

“We’re done,” he said before walking out of your house with nothing more than a kiss to the forehead.

“Earth to Y/N,” Jackson calls out and you shake your head pulling yourself out of the intense flashback.

“Huh, oh, sorry,” you sheepishly rub the back of your neck.

“Let’s practice one more time,” he takes your hand helping you stand up.

“Ji, have you seen this?” Taeyang was over at his house and pulled up the love song you and Jackson put out.

“Hmm?” he glances away from his phone and furrows his brows at the video. He see’s the two of you kiss on screen and he feels, that pang of jealousy. He’s seen the video before, he seen it the day it came out, actually. But he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want to think of it.

He hadn’t seen you since that night, not in person anyway. On TV shows and award ceremonies, he would watch, quietly support you and your career, even liking the first picture or two you posted of you and Jackson.

“They are performing tonight at the MAMA awards, so you’ll probably get to see her,” Taeyang calls out as he heads to the kitchen.

“She’s going to be there?” His voice is rushed, excited almost.

“Yup, we better go too, we’ll be late.”

You and Jackson are at the venue preparing for the show, hitting the choreography perfectly multiple times.

“OK, we gotta get dressed,” you say as you two come out of each other’s embrace

“We got this in the bag,” you both high five and he brings you in for a hug.

“You should really layer a little more deodorant,” you say with a giggle. He sniffs his shirt and makes a twisted face.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughs as he jogs off stage. As you walk off to go to the dressing room you stop as your breath hitches in your throat.

Ji-yong laughs as he feels someone stop and stare, he looks away from his manager and he spots you. His smile fades as he takes in your shocked face.

It’s still as beautiful as the first day he met you. He gives you a small wave and smile and you can’t move. His gaze is friendly and lingers for a moment. He starts to walk towards you, until he see’s Jackson come up behind you with his hand resting on your back. You look up at him directly and he can see the smile on your face when you look at him.

He feels the aching jealousy well up inside him but he pushes it down. You nod your head at something he says, and Jackson flits his gaze to Ji before giving a pursed lip smile and dragging you off with him in another direction.

“What could she possibly see in him?” Ji yong asks out loud not really expecting an answer.

“Hyung, did you really think she wouldn’t,” Ji-yong shoots Taeyang a glare, “Move on?” he finishes carefully.

“It’s been 8 months,” he tries to be gentle with Ji’s feelings, but the sting is too much. Jackson Wang was in a place he was supposed to be in. One he’d still be in most likely if he hadn’t of screwed up.

“Still fucking stings,” he grumbles. Taeyang sighs and gives his friend a hug.

“You both,” he pulls back and looks his friend in the face, “Need to move on. It’s time.” He tries to encourage him, tries to show him it’s healthy to move on, but the way Ji-yong loved you, despite his mistake, he was sure he’d never love anyone the same way.

“It’s not that easy, hyung.” He sighs as he sits down for the stylist to do his hair.

“She was everything, my muse, my rock, my reason for breathing. There were days I only got out of bed because I knew I would see her and that it would help make my day better,” he remembers fond memories as he talks to Taeyang about you. One of you and him riding the ferries wheel and getting stuck on top, that’s where your fist kiss was. When you accidently spilled ice cream on your top and he gave you jacket to cover it. When you’d both grow bored at parties after a little while and want to leave to just spend quiet time at home. He missed the way your touch made him feel like everything would work out, the way you made him feel like he was enough for exactly who he was. He sighs as he finishes getting ready for the show.

“Ok, are you ready for this?” Jackson asks you with anticipation.

“Absolutely, just don’t kiss me with tongue tonight,” you swat his arm and he laughs.

“No promises,” he winks and kisses your temple. You both get into position and the song starts as the lights go up. You follow the normal dance routine, spinning and swaying your hips to the beat, and kissing at the end of the song.

As the song is performed Ji can’t help but watch from the side of the stage, the way your body moves so gracefully and how it fits to Jackson’s so well when he had to wrap his arms around you, but it wasn’t the perfect way it fit Ji-yong’s. No, your body wouldn’t fit to anyone else’s the way it did his. He noticed the happy smile on your face, only noticing it falter when your eyes locked as you look his way.

The song ends and the lights go back down. You and him rush off stage and as soon as you are out of view you jump into his arms, adrenaline running high. He catches you with a huge smile on his face and he kisses your cheek sweetly. Ji-yong watches just off to the side and he rolls his eyes. He walks past you and you catch him out of the corner of your eye, his face deadpan.

You stay to the side of the stage to watch him perform. As he looks off to the side, he catches you watching, swaying your body to the music and nodding your head. He gives a half smile your way and you return one. His performance ends and he runs off stage he takes his mic off and before he can run to you, Jackson once again is in the place he wants to be, by your side.

“So, I was thinking, we could go down to the club and celebrate,” Jackson’s excited nature was infectious.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you glance at Ji-yong who’s giving you a glare again and you furrow your brows at him.

“We’ll leave in a few, get changed!” He runs off to get his stuff together and you go to walk off, but before you can you feel a hand around your wrist pulling you back. You look back and see it’s Ji-yong who has an unreadable expression on his face. You look at each other for a moment.

“I really need to talk to you,” he pleads.

“I,” you look in the direction Jackson went and back at Ji who looks slightly hopeful you’ll stay.

“I can’t,” you say tearing your arm away. He lets you go and for a moment lets you walk away before following you.

“Y/n,” he catches the door to your room. You look over at him, he still takes your breath away, the way his hair clings to his forehead from the sweat, the way he looks at you with his dark eyes, the way his clothes somewhat soaked with sweat cling to his body.

“What, Ji? I have somewhere to be, Jackson isn’t going to wait on me forever,” he scoffs and looks off to the side, mumbling something to himself.

“You want to share with the rest of the class,” you sass him.

“Not really,” he sasses back. You roll your eyes.

“I’m changing so at least shut the door. He walks in and shuts it.

“I meant with you on the other side of it,” you shoot him a glare of annoyance.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen, held or tasted before,” he smirks and you roll your eyes with a sharp exhale.

“Whatever,” you pull your top off your head and his eyes go directly to your body, not in a sensual, sexual way, but in a way that he’s curious. He notices you’ve put on a just little weight in the last 8 months and you instinctively wrap your arms around your torso.

“Can you not, stare,” you pause looking away from him, “at me,” you hear his footsteps come closer and he lifts your chin with his thumb and index finger.

“You’re beautiful,” he slowly reaches for your arms to pull them away and he’s inches from your face.

“Ji-yong,” you put a hand on his chest pushing him back slightly. His eyes flash with hurt before he recovers.

“Be honest with me,” he says standing back further as you find a different shirt. While you’re slipping it over your head you hear him ask, “Does he touch you better than I did?”

“What? Who?!” You all but shriek.

“Your little fling,” he motions his hand as you pull the shirt over your head you take off your pants next and put on some comfortable leggings.

“What ‘fling’,” you ask bewildered by his audacity. He rolls his eyes, saying his name makes him feel ill.

“Your little affair with Jackson Wang, y/n, I know about it, and so does the rest of the world, besides with the way you were sucking face out there, you don’t try to hide it.” You can see his jealousy and you quirk a brow at him. You decide to have a little fun at his expense. After all if he’s going to be nosy and a jerk at the same time, why not have a little fun.

“What Jackson and I are, or aren’t,” you pause and stare at him directly into his eyes, “doing is none of your concern. You left me, Ji, who I’m with now is none of your business.” You strap on a pair of sandals and walk out the door leaving him standing there.

“Jackson,” you call out and race to him. You can feel Ji-yong watching you so you slip your hand in Jackson’s as you walk off.

At the club the music is loud and the drinks are good, but you start to let your mind wonder back to your ex-boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about,” Jackson yells over the music as he see’s you staring into space.

“Ji-yong,” you huff.

“He nods his head understandably. He heard about all of it, multiple times, and he knew you still loved him.

“You wanna dance?” His offer is intriguing and you decide it’s better than sitting there thinking of the guy who broke up with you. As you and Jackson dance you happen to look over your shoulder and see that face that makes your knees weak.

“Holy shit,” you yell and Jackson notices your body tense as he looks at you concerned.

“What?” you point to Ji-yong as the answer to his question.

“Go talk to him.” He tries to push you forward.

“No, he was a dick.” You pout. He nods and walks over to Ji-yong for you. You watch as he gets closer, and even buys your ex a drink.

“Listen, man, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but me and your girl,” you see him gesture to you, “We ain’t together.” He throws back a shot and so does Ji.

“She isn’t ‘my girl’,” he corrects solemnly.

“Could’ve fooled me. She talks about you constantly,” he chuckles and Ji-yong quirks his brow. Jackson knew you’d either thank him or kill him for this, but he wasn’t worried about that right now.

“She does?” he looks over to you, seeing you dance alone.

“Oh yeah, how bad she misses you, wishes things would’ve been different.” He nods his head and looks down at the bar.

“So what’s with the rumors and the kiss and,” Jackson nods interrupting him.

“We did the song together and just became close friends. As far as the kiss, management thought it’d be good for the song if we kissed like in the video. We’re completely platonic though.” He downs another shot, Ji-yong decides not to, he wants his head clear when talks to you.

“Go get her, man,” he encourages and Ji-yong nods his head as he makes his way to you. He slides in behind you while you dance and the intimate smell of cologne and cigarettes wafts to your nostrils. You feel his hand on your hips as he moves with you.

“Can we talk,” he asks in your ear and you just keep dancing, ignoring his words but not his touch, you bring his hands around your torso so he encapsulates you.

“Jagiya,” his voice is soft, sultry even, and once the music ends you sigh and turn to face him.

“Can I please talk to you,” you see Jackson at the bar smirking at you. You give him a half smile as you find an area in the club away from all the people.

“What is it,” you don’t know how else to ask.

“I miss you,” he’s straight to the point and you didn’t expect that.

“Ji,” you sigh.

“Look, I wasn’t planning on telling you, but I seen you with him tonight and I hated it. He had you the way I should, the way I did.” He steps closer to you; you back up hitting the wall. He closes the space, your mouths just inches apart. He’s intoxicating, the way he looks at you, smells, and just the feeling of his body near yours is electric.

“He kissed you the way I did, the way I still want to,” he mumbles as he caresses your cheek.

“Not really,” you utter barely above a whisper.

“Hmm,” he asks like he doesn’t understand.

“He didn’t,” you look into his dark, beautiful eyes, “kiss me the way you did. It wasn’t the same passion or love. It wasn’t the same feeling I got with you.” You feel your cheeks blush as you confess to him.

“His touch,” you runs your hands over his arms that are locked onto your hips now,“Isn’t the same. Its not as electrifying.” You look at him through your lashes.

He looks relieved.

“So, you really aren’t with him?” you shake your head no.

You bring your forehead to his and whisper to him, “I’m not with anyone, I’m yours Ji-yong, I always have been,” and before any other words can be said his lips are on yours, smoothly moving in sync and he pulls your impossibly closer as you fist his shirt.

“Aegiya,” he practically whimpers when you separate.

“I need you to come home.” You smile at his confession.

“Promise me something,” you say cautiously.

“Anything,” his desperate eyes search yours.

“You’ll give us time to rebuild trust and be patient with me,” you’re asking more than telling.

“As long as you want to trust me again, I’ll prove you can.” He smiles.

“Then lets get out of here,” you grin as he takes your hand and leads you out of the club.

If you enjoyed consider buying me a coffee

[cuteandhughesy]

congrats on 1k!!!

pleaseeee can you do matt rempe with prompt 25 🙏🙏

prompt no. 25: grabbing their chain to bring them in for a kiss

you should be enjoying yourself right now. you should be slamming back drinks and dancing until your feet are enveloped in white how pain like every other person in this bar. expect you can’t.

you know you’re pouting—also glaring—as you sit dormant in a barstool. you fiddle absentmindedly with the missing stick nestled between ice cubes in your cocktail. it looks so mouthwatering, all sliced lime and salted rim, but you’re too annoyed to drink it.

you watch from across the bar, eyes pointed with a mixture of fury and curiosity. your boyfriend, matt, is laughing. leaning against the sticky bar counter while will cuylle and jimmy vesey chat each others ears off about what you can only assume is a pointless conversation. but that’s not the problem.

the problem is her. the girl standing way too close to matt. long highlighted brow hair cascasing down her back in perfect waves, the most gorgeous, flirtatious smile framed by plump glossy lips. she’s stunning. and even worse, she’s flirting with your boyfriend.

it was subtle things at first. you caught her starting at him across the bar for long periods of time, and then she’d whisper and giggle to her friends afterwards. you brushed that off though—thinking, maybes she’s a rangers fan. or she’s just shocked at how fucking tall he is.

rookie mistake.

because as soon as matt stepped away from you to go the bathroom, she was there. well, not in the actual bathroom obviously, but when matt came back out—on his way to you—he was stopped by her little russian manicure hands.

you roll your eyes just thinking about it.

matt tried to brush her off initially—he even pointed across the bar to you while his lips moved in the girls direction. but then will and jimmy came over, started striking up conversation and matt’s still with her.

you really shouldn’t be jealous. matt is your boyfriend, not hers. he would never do anything to purposefully hurt you. even now, you know he’s just too socially awkward and nice to abruptly leave the conversation with his teammates and fucking tate mcrae wannabe and that’s why you’re still alone.

and you also know you could go over there and slide in beside matt. but that’s not you. you’re not possessive like some lioness who sinks her teeth into her mans bottom lip when they feel threatened. so you just watch, pout on your face while matt is casually sipping a corona.

“where’s y/n?” jimmy asks, fiddling with the label of his beer, eye scanning the bar to try and spot you. will seems curious as well, gaze pointed as he too searched through the crowded room.

matt swallows his mouthful of foamy liquid, “she’s at the bar, I should—“

“who’s y/n?” the girl, rachel, interrupts big dark eyes blinking up at matt, which he knows is attempting to be seductive, or sexy in some way.

“the girl I pointed at earlier,” he hums, “my girlfriend.” instinctively, matt looks over his shoulder. you’re still sitting where he left you, your drunk untouched as you poke and prod at the ice cures with your mixing stick.

you’re pouting just enough for matt to know something is up. when your eyes meet, you turn your head away. you let go of your stir stick in favour of crossing your arms, a dismissive tactic you use when you’re annoyed.

jimmy says something along the lines of missing you, but matt doesn’t pay attention. he pauses off the bar top, cringing at the sticky feeling left behind on his elbow before pushing through the small group of three around him.

he’s pretty rachel scoffs at the word girlfriend. matt can only roll his eyes half amusingly, stalking over to the other side of the bar where you’re sitting.

your spine straightens, turning your attention back to the bar as matt slides in the stool next to you. you’re still avoiding proper eye contact. you know that matt knows something is bugging you, and now your storm of jealousy has you left feeling embarrassed, because you know there’s nothing to be jealous of.

“hey,” he stars, a lopsided grin on his face. “what’s up with you?”

you sigh. you’re going to fess up, tell matt about your random attack of fury and jealousy over a stranger at the bar and then laugh about it after matt reassures you there’s nothing to be upset about.

but then your eyes flicker up, meeting that strange girls face across the room. and much to your distaste, she’s still starting at matt.

you jaw ticks, and before you can stop yourself, you turn towards matt, grabbing the silver chain around his neck and rug him down, lips meeting in a heavy kiss.

he makes a noise of surprise against your mouth, hands frozen on the bar top. your hand drops matt’s chain in favour of sliding up to his face, caressing his stubbled jaw in the palm of your hand, lips moving together like it’s second nature.

matt’s body seems to catch up with his lips, one of his large arms coming off the counter and wrapping around your middle. he completely pulls you off the stool, pulling you up against his body as the kiss continues.

you pull away, breathless, hand falling from matt’s face and back down to his chain—fiddling with the metal absentmindedly like you always have. ah it of doing when you’re unsure.

“you’re jealous.” matt states. he doesn’t ask because he already knows. his palm slips down your back and over you ass, giving it a firm pat.

your eyes dart away from his chain and up to meet matt’s gaze. he’s grinning down at you, and that makes you crack a little bit, leaning into his chest even further and wetting your bottom lip in an attempt to hide your growing smile. “I may have been feeling a little territorial.”

matt laughs before kissing you again. “you have nothing to be jealous about, y/n/n.”

—

(unedited)

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

“Time for Dessert?”

synopsis: sfw+nsfw headcannons for eimiko x fem reader! (poly)

tags: aphrodisiacs, hot spring sex, scissoring, marking, praise, vulgar, fingering, explicit,

wrd cnt: 0.7k

a/n: god i love women …. also a repost from old acc

sfw~

1. ) On lazy afternoons, Ei and Yae team up to prepare a special tea blend that perfectly complements their unique personalities, and naturally their sweetheart will be the judge. Ei's playful nature mixes with Miko's elegance, resulting in a brew that always warms your heart and you truly can never pick which tea is better, so you always finish both.

2. ) We all know Ei is a little... culinarily challenged. But that doesn't stop you and Miko from trying to teach her the basics, it'll be hard to even convince her to step into a kitchen but with a few shoulder massages and kisses on the cheek she can't refuse her girls. Often times the end will result in two plates of food, and then one plate of….well you wouldn't call it food but you could be brave enough to take a bite while watching Ei's anticipating eyes wait for your reaction. Practice is sure to make some progress.

3. You quickly find that Yae is quite the prankster, you and Ei are usually the victims of her shenanigans but sometimes you two team up on her. One of your greatest hits were when you both convinced her to take a bite of some sweets Ei had bought from a local shop. You handed Yae the plate of a suspicious looking pudding, almost clear in color but doused in a sugary syrup. As she tries to cut into it- the "dessert" pops open and spill all over her lap, good thing it was only just a little hydro slime.

nsfw~

1. Yae and Ei quite knowledgeable, and you're happy to fulfill their requests. They'd send you on little trips to obtain certain commodities, but they'd only tell you what it's for when you come back. A very likely occurrence that happens, is Yae will go send you to bring her some novelty chocolates with pomegranate, lavender and gingko oil, and dozens of other aphrodisiacs. Except….you wouldn't really know they were such things, not until you're practically begging them to fuck you. Not until you're riding Yae's fingers, while Ei licks the chocolate off your fingers and the corners of your mouth.

2.) You can't tell me these two don't treat you like an absolute princess, and fuel your praise kink- Sex with Ei and Miko is never quiet, they'll always be whispering sweet nothings into your ear, caressing every inch of your body and praising you for being such a good girl for them…and good girls get rewards.

3.) Imagine taking a bath with the two of them, the hot springs are always you threes favorite place to relax. Ei will have a spring prepared with flower petals and rose water ready for you and Miko. You'll all sit in the bath, barely inches away from each other.

You can feel Ei's hand trailing up your thigh, as Miko's chest is pressed up again your shoulder.

The water, making it so easy for Ei to lift up your leg and put it over hers. Even easier for her to slip her fingers along your folds, the warm water feeling almost cold when your entire body is heating up from her rubbing your sensitive- puffy, clit. All while Miko rubs your hard nipples between her fingers, rolling them between her digits and tugging them slightly while her lips leave pink and purple marks across your neck. Yae is almost shocked, feeling your fingers enter her cunt, you didn't wish to leave her out, not one bit.

"Such a sweet girl, feels so good darling..." Yae will whisper into your ear, before moving your face towards her, slipping her tongue into your mouth while your fingers curl into her.

Ei, making your legs almost shake from how hard her fingers curl up into you.

"How is this, hm? Do you like it when I do this? Tell me how much you love it." Ei says, moving her body to cross into yours. Her pussy now rubbing itself onto yours, as you feel her folds slide against your clit, her tongue now tracing around your hard nipples before sucking until you can't hold back your whimpers.

You watch as Yae starts to share her tongue with Ei, all while you try to keep yourself from finishing so quickly, but that's inevitable.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[deadchannelradio]

i just think bruce isn't very good at grief. not that it's something anybody can be "good" at it's an emotion and loss is just loss there's no moral good or evil attached to loss but he has built his entire life as a monument to the dead in a way that makes it so he can never really interact with the living. bruce himself is pushing through the veil of the dead to interact with his (living) (sometimes undead) children in essence he does haunt them and because he is incapable of seeing them as anything other than pre-dead individuals they haunt him right back.

in a way this is something of the issue he has with dick when dick is a child- Bruce loves Dick terribly, fiercely, and with his entire heart, which is why he is so brutally controlling and awful to dick. he is terrified of losing him- to other pursuits, to growing up, to death- and so he ends up sabotaging himself over and over by becoming violent in the face of those threats. when you spend all of your time pre-mourning it almost is a relief to actually mourn- kicking Dick out of the manor is easier than experiencing Dick leaving, so he kicks Dick out before Dick can grow out of him.

the issue there- both in the metanarrative and in bruce's life itself, is that batman needs a robin. Robin is in essence Batman's rubber ducky to allow him to verbalize things to the reader, so he's more opaque, and without robin he's just less fun, and Nightwing is making big waves that are almost drowning batman stories out. and in the narrative Bruce is unmoored from his grounding point (robin) and adrift and unsure and misses him terribly, so he finds another little boy and puts him in robin's clothes!

Jason and Bruce have such an. ugh. it's kind of so insane it's so fast paced and so close so rapidly in a way that you only really get from people going through stressful situations together. Bruce does everything in his power to not make the same mistakes he made with dick- he adopts jason immediately he made sure their relationship had no ambiguity he is trying to hold on to jason in the ways he could not hold on to dick and like Yes they loved each other Yes jason was good for bruce and bruce was good for jason Yes it was some of Bruce's best (arguably only) parenting (the first child to call bruce his father!) yes they loved each other fiercely. but it was so mind bogglingly codependent. ive said this before sorry friends but i have to say it again Jason is the only robin who like. did not have friends. did not have a team. did not have A Life Outside Of The Batman. he didn't have peers, who might make him want to change or grow in ways bruce isnt ready for. he just had batman!

and so in this completely insular world when Jason fucks up (you can read how that situation broke down in whatever way you want to- i personally think felipe garzonas jumped tho [shrug]) and Bruce sees a way Jason might change and leave him and freaks and immediately falls back on How He Acted With Dick. but jason and bruce don't have dick and bruce's relationship and jason has nobody else and so it is just like an all out rejection to jason, who immediately starts looking for a new parent.

this is all because of Dick and Bruce's previous relationship with a sidekick! he's haunted by dick. he says over and over he wishes he could go back to those days of batman and robin. those days were Bruces high point as a person if not as a parent and he wants them back so badly he is willing to try and recreate it with someone else- everything Jason is as robin only exists because Dick grayson carved that path in the hillside for him- he's wearing dick's colors and his fucking name, for christssakes. And not only does this attempted redemption/recreation not work (because people are people and cannot be replaced) but it does work in the worst way possible, because now Jason Todd is never going to be able to grow up, just like bruce wanted. worst monkeys paw curl in the world.

Bruce is an extremely reactionary person. All of this ^ is a reaction to loss. everything that comes after is reaction to loss. Bruce has been mourning for so long that he doesn't actually know how to function outside of it- who he is outside of grief does not actually exist. it could! arguably it even does! but bruce does not believe he exists without the dead and his grief, and so he keeps writing his own joy out of existence in his internal narrative, thusly denying himself from actually experiencing it. And he is insistent on dragging everyone else down with him! and in some ways they are dragging themselves down, but Bruce is the only one literally sitting in a dark hole in the ground with some poor baby's clothes on a mannequin with biohazard brain juices all over it. He doesn't want to lose anybody but he knows he will because he believes everything to already be over, and so he reacts to things as though it's already done, and in his mourning of things yet to happen he does not live in the now, and so he loses people. over and over and over again, and without having spent the time with them that he wanted to spend.

its kind of a classic tale. Bruce is just the only man unlucky enough to have to do it over and over again.

so yeah. long rant about basically what you just said. bruce would rather lose exactly 0 children but he has already lost them all in his mind (and in some cases has actually put them in the ground) and all of his relationships with his kids are highly valuable to him, and acting like only one exists or is more important than the others actually shoots your own narrative in its foot because they all dont actually exist without each other. except for dick grayson. who kind of did just Do That. he set the precedent for all this & Bruce is reacting to Dick's ghost in many of his decisions. it's like how when you were a kid and you would do the food web demonstrations in science class and with every string you cut more of the web falls apart way beyond that one string. except dickie g is a keystone species like mosquitos or something and when you get rid of him 80% of the ecosystem dies off because the thing that ate the thing before them that ate the thing before them that ate the thing before them that ate mostly dickie g died due to dickie g being gone

tldr relationships are incredibly complicated and build off of each other and so cutting one out or trying to cheapen it actually ruins the whole thing but you know what you do you booboo [skull] [crylaugh]

i love when people try to make bruce and jason's relationship cuter by making it sound like dick does NOT exist AT ALL like "batman's first son and he loved him" and "he would rather lose everybody than lose jason" like im pretty sure that bruce would prefer to lose neither dick nor jason but you know what you do you 💀😂

[no-onemournsthelesbians]

Elphaba x Glinda Headcanons (2)

Who hogs the blankets?

Glinda

Who wants to stay in bed just a bit longer?

Usually Glinda, but sometimes Elphaba can also be the same way

Who always makes coffee for the other in the morning?

Glinda

Who says “I love you” first?

Elphaba

Who tells their friends/family about their relationship first?

Their found family literally made bets about them getting together

Who is more likely to ask the other to dance with them?

Glinda (this is canon)

Who cooks best?

It’s actually Elphaba. Glinda could burn water

Who wears the other’s jacket?

Glinda. If you had said this to her when she started at Shiz she would have been horrified. But after Elphaba “died” one of the only things Glinda had left of her, besides her hat, was an old cloak of Elphaba’s that had been left behind in their dorm. She wore it constantly in private and cried when it didn’t smell like her anymore. Once Elphaba came back, she started stealing new ones and once Elphaba found out why she couldn’t bring herself to stop it

Who uses cheesy pickup lines?

Elphaba, much to Glinda’s affection and dismay (this is not how she taught her love to be popular)

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Glinda, because she’s a little shit

Who makes the other one laugh the most?

Glinda. Elphaba can’t help it, her partner is just the perfect mixture of adorable and genuinely silly

Who needs more reassurance?

Both of them. Elphaba’s is mostly about her appearance (although not as much anymore) and just how much most Ozians despise her. Glinda’s is mostly about being left behind again by someone she loves

Who would have to bail the other out of jail?

Elphaba. Yes, Glinda is a menace to society if you say one bad word about Elphie 

What would be their theme song?

What Is This Feeling? From Wicked

*I also added a non musical song to this and it’s Paris by The Chainsmokers*

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Glinda mopes around extremely dramatically and sleeps on Elphaba’s side of the bed. Elphaba tries to keep a decent poker face but she’ll steal Glinda’s perfume and take it with her on any trips

Who would accidentally set the kitchen on fire while cooking?

Glinda

Who is the morning/night person?

Elphaba is a morning person and Glinda has no concept of time

Who gives the other person cool-looking rocks?

Elphaba

Who is the big spoon? Who is the little spoon?

They switch positions most of the time but more often than not Glinda is the little spoon. She has a specific talent for curling herself into little balls and wrapping herself around Elphie’s body so neither of them can move

Who wants to take lots of pictures of them together?

Glinda

Who still blushes when they say ‘I love you?’

Elphaba

Who likes to jump into the other person’s arms?

Glinda. She has a flair for the dramatics and Elphaba secretly loves to catch her in midair

Who likes to take artsy photos together?

Glinda

What do they like to watch together after a long day?

Black and white movies (it really doesn’t matter, they both fall asleep barely halfway through so they probably haven’t ever actually finished a movie together)

[sexlapis]

*

A thud jolts Toji out of his sleep.

It was a quiet noise, barely audible to the average person.

But he heard it loud and clear.

He sits up immediately, blood already bubbling hot and pumping through his body. He reaches behind his pillow and pulls out his gun, then proceeds to slowly climb out of his cheap bed, wincing internally at every creak and squeak it makes.

Toji curses his past self for being so stingy.

This must be the day then. The day when somebody finally put a hit out on him and now some rando is out to finish the job and get their prize.

Toji wouldn’t make it that easy for them.

He didn’t make it this far, survive the brutalities of the Zenin’s, the loss of the love of his life and then, essentially, his child too, to be killed by some sucker who doesn’t even have the balls to face him properly.

Not a fucking chance.

Toji creeps out of his bedroom, inching towards the kitchen where the sound came from. It isn’t a long journey - it’s a small, shitty apartment he lives in and the rooms are barely even separated from one another.

As he gets closer, he hears it; shuffling sounds, like someone is looking through his things, through his cupboards and cabinets along with the occasional clank of a tin.

Is this just a thief? Maybe a homeless person? A cat?

He wasn’t going to wait and find out.

Quelling down the small itch of fear, he flings the door open. Gun raises, hairs standing up right. Ready to fight. Ready to kill.

There, rummaging through the cupboard is…you.

Definitely not a thief. Definitely not a hit man. Certainly not a curse user or a bounty hunter.

You stand there, frozen. Your eyes bulge out of your skull at the sight of the gun a few feet away from you. And at the tall, domineering man who holds it as easily as holding cutlery.

“Who the fuck are you?” Toji spits.

Your mouth falls open and no words come out.

You seem to be frozen in fear. For good reason.

The man in front of you is a tank - big, no doubt physically strong and could easily put you down without having to use the gun in his hand. And judging by the scar on his lips, you’d guess he is well versed in the world of fighting and brawling.

You’re screwed.

The guns clicks.

“I said, who the fuck are you?”

“I-I, I’m-“” You cut yourself off with quick, uneven breaths, “-please-“”

Toji looks you up and down, gun still raised and pointed right at you.

Then he realises he knows who you are.

You’re that person he sees everytime he goes out. He wishes he could be more specific, but it’s impossible because he really has no idea who on earth you are.

Sometimes you’re walking hurriedly down the street, eyes on the ground. Other times he catches sight of you in the alleyway, sitting on the grimey ground, asleep. One time, he even noticed you shoplifting from the shop of the nice old lady who gives him free hard candy, which he thought was a shitty thing to do, but it’s not like he can talk. He’s not the police.

Still. Toji knows you. Well, knows of you.

Other than your survivalist behaviours he knows not a damn thing about you, not even your name. Not your age. Nothing.

You’re elusive, hidden in plain sight, in the flashes of his peripheral vision, and right now, Toji has never been more confused in his whole life.

“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

Still, you stare at him like a deer.

It’s getting harder for him to believe you’re a threat.

You gulp, hands raised in surrender. Your body trembles.

“I…I was…I was hungry.” You croak out. Your eyes quiver, going glassy. “I’m sorry.”

Toji blinks at you. He observes your old, worn clothes, your unwashed hair, the dark rings that paint your eyes, the tears that now streak down your face. The lines and dents in your face that are only carved by a life of hardship and pain. Then he sighs. He lowers his gun.

You’re no killer. You’re not a threat. You’re just hungry.

Whatever anger, fear, apprehension or hostility Toji felt towards you fades away with each slow breath of relief he exhales.

Now, as he looks at you in your ragged clothes and your wide, scared eyes all he feels for you is pity.

It wasn’t uncommon to see people like you in Toji’s line of work - the outcasts of society, the people who exist along the edges of civilisation, the ones who need just one more pill, the girls selling their bodies on the street to so-called upstanding men, the former soldiers who are payed for their service with a missing leg and a seat on the side of the street - people like you who walk along the cliff of society just waiting to be pushed off.

He sighs.

Toji could just tell you to fuck off, to get out and never come bask, to threaten you for real so you don’t do anything this stupid again.

Instead, he walks to his fridge.

You yelp at the movement, heart drumming in your chest. Your eyes squeeze shut. You wait for the impact of a smack, a punch, a bullet, a kick, anything, preparing for how you will get yourself out of this situation you walked right into.

You hear the fridge open and close. You can hear him walk towards you. Then he’s in front of you. His body heats wavers over you.

“Here.”

Your eyes flutter open.

He holds a package of tinfoil to you. It smells nice. Really nice. Saliva pools on your tongue.

You blink up at him, eyes wet and vision blurry.

Toji peers down at you. He looks bored.

Toji tuts. “Are you gonna take it or what?”

You alternate between glancing at the foil-wrapped food and at him, blinking wildly. It seems like you’re sizing him up a little. Trying to see whether this is some kind of trick, if he wants something from you in return.

Finally, which twitching hands, you clasp the food in your hands.

For a moment you both hold onto it. Toji’s big hands look almost comical next to yours.

He lets go. Toji almost thinks you’re going to drop it considering your weak grip, but you don’t.

You look at the foil-covered food for a second. You can’t believe this stranger who you only see in passing just…gave you food after breaking into his house. Now that you think of it, you should’ve been more careful, you aren’t usually so reckless. But you were so damn hungry, and you got caught shoplifting (though, you were let off with just a warning - they felt bad). So, you were desperate. And considering how things turned out, you got lucky. It could’ve turned out much worse for you if it was some other guy who wasn’t…whoever this guy is.

Toji goes back to looking through his fridge like you’re not even there. He’s probably looking to see if you took anything. You didn’t.

“Thank…Thank you.” You stammer out. Your teeth chatter.

Toji cuts his eye at you.

“Don’t break into people’s apartments. You’ll get shot one day.”

Your breath hitches. You give him a static nod.

Walking backwards, you look at the package in your hands again. The smile you give him is a genuine one, softening your tired eyes. You turn your back on him, running towards the open window in the kitchen and jumping out.

Then you’re gone.

“Fuck.” Tojj curses. “This neighbourhood is fucking crazy.”

*

masterlist

[kisakis-boyfriend]

As the Souya Simp of this blog I have the wonderful honor of being the one to obviously request Souya for the whole alphabet if that’d be Gucci for thou!

-Souya’s anon lover

Author's Note: Of course! Yours is also the first request for this event too. 🥳

For our 3000 follower celebration!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Very cuddly, and you love him for that 🩵 Souya will collapse, totally out of energy, and then he's immediately ready for cuddle time!

He's also great at letting you know how amazing you were, and how loved you are.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part of himself is probably his arms, or his ass since you compliment it so much 😅

When it comes to you, Souya's answer is simple: your gorgeous face is his most favorite thing about you 🩵

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

I feel like Souya's cumshots would be pretty sizable, but his cum is less thick than other guys. More translucent white and slightly more bitter than average. And, if you edge him for a long time, the tiny spurts of cum would make it look like Souya is squirting rather than cumming 😋

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Souya has a folder on his phone full of secret photos. Ones he snapped of you fresh out of the shower, changing clothes, and similar situations. But there's also some innocent ones too. A few selfies, pictures of you two from social gatherings and whatnot. He admires these often 🩵

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's a little lost, but he's got the spirit. Not super inexperienced, but his knowledge of kinks and sexual health is a bit lacking.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. May include a visual)

Anything face to face, methinks. Cowgirl, missionary, even a good ol' mating press! Just as long as Souya can watch your reactions, he's happy!

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I think he can be unintentionally goofy, just by saying something that makes you laugh in the middle of sex. Otherwise he's more on the serious side.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

You know I love a good bush, but I think Souya would trim his hair somewhat. He's definitely not going to shave himself clean down there, but a little bit of shaping is his style 👍

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Souya can be quite intimate. He's the kind of person who will randomly blurt out an "I love you" while you're fucking him. (And if you do it back, you may see a few tears)

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Not his thing. Souya prefers to let you jerk him off, but only if you promise to put your dick inside too 👉👈

Only if you're unable to see each other for a long time, and if he's incredibly horny, will Souya touch himself and think about you. He'll probably sext you as well, or try to hop on a video call.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

FOOD KINK! FOOD KINK! FOOD KINK! And hair pulling, honestly.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

This is a little boring perhaps, but Souya prefers the bed or couch because those are comfortable for long sexy times. I mean, he'll do it just about anywhere, but it is nice to have a soft surface so that his back isn't sore 😵‍💫

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You. Just, anything about you really. A lingering smile, a flirty wink, a cheeky bite on his neck, a caress over his bulge, the sound of your voice.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Honestly, I don't think Souya would be into spitting. Especially spitting in his mouth… it's just a no from him 😔

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Souya prefers receiving for sure, but he'll use his mouth on you if you coax him into it. He's not too bad at it either. A blowjob from Souya is so full of passion that it makes up for his average skill.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Souya prefers fast and rough, and he's normally the one who sets the pace. But he's not against the occasional soft sex~

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a regular occurrence in your relationship. Sometimes one of you is too horny (usually Souya) and you have to settle for a quick round before you go about your day.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

A little bit. He trusts you enough to explore new kinks, but Souya won't shy away from maintaining his boundaries.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

So. Much. Stamina. Good lord, Souya can go on forever it seems. Even when he's visibly tired, he's still bouncing on your cock or throwing his ass back!

On average, he can go for 3 rounds. Although he can definitely go for more if he's in the right mood.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not the biggest fan of toys. He prefers your dick or your hand to anything else.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not one to tease you, and he'll definitely whine when you tease him, but Souya doesn't use your safe word either… 😏

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Loud boi. Grunting and whining are the most common sounds during sex, but Souya moans a lot too. He talks a lot as well, your dick turns him into a bit of a blabbermouth 🤣

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

His brother gave him a manscaped kit for his birthday once 💀 But Souya does actually use it, and his pubic hair looks and feels nice!

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Long dick style — like, 8 to 10 inches. Not super girthy, but not entirely slacking in that aspect either. His dick curves to the left just a tiny bit and there are a few moles around and right above his dick.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Above average for sure. Souya is ready to go at almost any time. It's kind of scary how much this guy can fuck 💀

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

While he's not always going to pass out immediately, that has happened a few times. More often than not though, Souya is just physically exhausted and would like to cuddle and chill while you both wind down.

[amethystfairy1]

Sorry to continue adding to the backlog of asks but I wanted to inform you of last nights dream because you do not understand the amount I am affected by your tippy taps--

So we're in TTSBC, which I know exclusively because my brain said, "Oh hey, it's ttsbc!Tango!" At the start of the dream. He's, for some reason, currently topside, although it is dead night. We're in a car dealership. All of a sudden, Tango locks eyes with some random person who's vaguely wearing blue (the whole rest of the dream is in third person as a spectator except for this moment, where I'm Tango and lock eyes with this guy-- by which i mean our faces are 2 inches apart and we're staring each other down for all of 0.5 seconds-- and then I spawn in as a seperate character next to Tango). Tango looks at me and him and I start booking it down the car-dealership now turned parking garage (which is how ik it's night, it's one of those multi-story garages and the level opens to the sky and it's a deep midnight blue outside). We're running and absolutely leaving the guy in the DUST, but then he starts catching up. Dreams. Good news, Tango, apperently is a really good pickpocket because he stole BMW keys at some point! So we get in the BMW and drive the heck away. (I know nothing about cars, but upon googling, the car looked most like a BMW XM. This is irrelevant, but I remember it too well not to share. Why is it a BMW? No idea. I don't drive one, I don't think about them ever, and I only know it's a BMW because the letters BMW were plastered on the front)

We speed away like crazy in the same direction we were going (this parking garage is like over 50 miles long atp honestly) until the car breaks down, at which point we get out, completely casually as though nothing just happened, and I wake up, roll over, see it's only 5 am and I can sleep for another hour, and clonk back out, but not before vaguely going "huh. Didn't know Tango knew how to drive a BMW" which committed the dream to memory.

Fun fact about me: I very rarely remember my dreams. At all. Let alone in the VIVID detail I remember this. Now I'm wondering how many such dreams I've had about these characters loll. I know I had one involving Ren in some capacity at some point, but that's it.

Anyway, I think I got a prophetic dream about there being a Tango-based chapter today. I'm just that in tune with the world apperently loll.

I have provided reference photos of the dream. Basically:

Except imagine Tango looking sly asf holding car keys and being visible through the windshield in every shot

(Just now realizing it also involved cars, I'm so good at this /j)

Anyway, thank you for providing me with entertainment both while conscious and not apperently! I was going to send this ask when I got home from school, but the new chapter took full priority, and I forgot about it until my mother asked for her car keys back just now, so here we are!

Wait this is SO FUNNY!

HOW DID TTSBC!TANGO KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!? THEY DON'T HAVE CARS IN THE UNDER-CITY! OH MY STARS!

I'm so glad my tippy taps have so deeply wormed their way into your brain 😅

[mixingandmelting]

Street Food

Summary: he gets frustrated after standing in line in dead winter for street food with you. then you decide to do the most scandalous thing to do prior to even dating: hold hands with him

It’s dark. It’s cold. It’s snowing. And it’s cold.

It’s the middle of winter and all five of you, you and team Sabbath, are in line for the next open table in the street food-selling tent. Why he or any one on the team, for that matter, thought it was a good idea to listen to you, he has no idea. But he’s definitely regretting it, gritting his teeth and shivering in the cold. 

“We just should’ve gone to the BBQ place.” Vinny pulls the zipper up his jacket as the other two males grunts. It’s not just them but also the rest of the line that’s suffering. Parkas reaching their calves, thick scarves, gloves, and boots. Some groups are even going as far as to press against each other to build up more body heat. 

“Come on, don’t be like that.” You roll your eyes only to scrunch your nose and pull your scarf up to block the breeze that blows into your face. “The food’s good and cheap. I promise, it’ll be worth it.” 

Wooin can feel another vein about to pop from his neck, his pent up frustration close to exploding to its max. Do you even realize that’s what you’ve been saying the past thirty minutes? Look where that got them now! 

“It better be.” Wooin hisses. He keeps his arms wrapped around his torso, squeezing them in hopes that’d warm him up. It’s so cold and he’s only in a sweater dammit.  “We could’ve been already eating, not freezing our ass off. But no, instead all of us decided to be dumb, listen to you, and actually stay in line. If this place isn’t good you’re paying the next three-“ He stops as he catches Hyuk and Joker shuffling closer towards you. 

Those little- he’s pretty sure he made it clear he’s the only one allowed to be physically chummy with you. Did they really think he wouldn’t notice? His scowl deepens when Hyuk merely raises an eyebrow at him. That prick. 

“Oh, for goodness sake-just shut up!” You huff, at your wit end with all the complaining coming from all directions. “It’s your own fault for refusing to even wear gloves when I literally told you to wear thicker clothes!” 

Suddenly, he freezes as it registers: you, of all people, the person who absolutely abhors his physical touches, just grabbed his hands and stuffed them in your pocket. Initiate hand holding and keep holding his with zero hesitation. Warmth traveling from your palm to his, hell your and his fingers are locked-! 

You don’t pay attention, seemingly too fed up to care. But the rest of the team notices, especially with how he simply stays quiet rather than rampaging like he normally does. One look by each of them and Vinny tilts his head down with a hand covering his mouth. Joker has to turn away, both him and the red head’s shoulders shaking nonstop. 

It’s at the sound of the shutter going off, he snaps out of it. Keeping a note in the back of his mind to get at Hyuk afterwards, his lips stretch widely across his face; his grin resembling Cheshire. 

“Babe, if you wanted to hold hands you could’ve just asked.”

He’s quick to tighten his grip as you try to pull his hands out and shove them away. But no matter how hard you shake, he doesn’t let go. Up and down his arms goes only for him to cackle as he starts swinging yours and his around, asking if this was what you actually wanted. The rest of the time gets spent like this, where he continues to irritate you with full intentions to not let go. It almost makes this whole thing worth it considering this is a first from you and of course, him being the awful person he is, he wants to relish it as long as he can. On the side, Joker and Hyuk start making bets on who will be successful in getting things to go their way. Poor Vinny adds this event as another reason as to why he shouldn’t have not joined the team in the first place. 

Wooin does get sulky when you let go, the excuse of you needing your hands to eat (yes, he was ready to feed you just so he could at least keep A hand). However, he has to admit. The place seriously sells good street food. Even better when a discount was applied because you were friends with the grandma running it. 

“Come on, it’s just a hand.”

“Like I’ll let you when you’re going get all weird about it again!”

Just like that, the second you all leave the tent, he goes at it harder to tease you as you dodge at every attempt. 

“He totally has a crush.” Hyuk sighs in exasperation, seeing Wooin’s tendency instantly worsen. 

“...Yeah. He does.”

All three flinch when their eyes happen to meet Wooin’s glaring ones. 

“...I heard that.”

[libraford]

There was just so much "I'm glad they're out, but I'm not going to hold their hand and welcome them into our spaces."

Which is like... the first part of that is what I was suggesting. I wasn't even asking people to be nice beyond acknowledgement that them leaving was a good thing. And I did over-react a little bit because it was somewhat obvious that it was a lot of bad faith reads, but you know... I just don't react well to being called a nazi apologist.

And part of this is that I'm coming fresh out of doing research for the conversion therapy ban, where I had to hear so many strawman and slippery slope arguments as to why parents should be allowed to enroll their gay children into a program that has a less than 1% success rate and a 40% increase in suicide and is mostly characterized by literal torture.

And I saw both supporters and opponents of the ban say things that completely missed the point because they didn't read thoroughly or critically. But the important thing, I guess, was that they were angry.

While researching, I came across the oldie-but-goodie: Westboro Baptist Church- which I hadn't thought about since we were still in college.

But Fred Phelps just straight up hated everything. Like damn. That man really had unearthly amounts of hate in him. And he'd put ideas in people's heads and they'd rotate it around for awhile and they'd end up hating a version of events that barely resembled reality and... well, sometimes people get caught up in hating something so much that they don't read through.

And I think that things like anger, fear, hatred... they can be addicting to some people. I know that I have to limit my intake of The Horrors to digestible things written in plain language, and that I have to do it around the same time every day, or I'll just keep looking for more. And there haven't been very many resolutions to things, so its kind of like a cat chasing a laser pointer.

But I had a positive outcome with the conversion therapy ban. It made me feel good. Even if some of the people who were on my side of the issue somewhat missed the point, it felt good to celebrate a win. So I saw the exit group as another win, even if it was a small one.

I understanding wanting an Acceptable Target. The more I read about conversion therapy, the more I fucking hated Gary Cooper and Michael Bussee. Like I want to throw rocks at these people who left a legacy of hatred and a trail of bodies.

Finding out that they both left Exodus International to (1979 equivalent of) marry each other kind of took the breath out of that. That so many of the leaders and faces of the movement spoke out and said 'I was wrong and I am sorry for the damage I've done' gave me mixed feelings. As late as 2013, decades after the founders of the movement left, still dealing with the fallout and only just now in 2025 are people starting to get with the program on banning the practice of literal torture.

Having an Acceptable Target didn't make all of it not happen. And them apologizing didn't stop the movement. Even with a ban in place, I think that the change will be slower than I would like.

So its like... why am I putting this much energy into wanting them to feel pain when one of them already died of AIDS and the other one has been an outspoken opponent of the movement he started? Its not... its not gonna change where we are.

I'm trying to look more into the concept of what I'm doing instead of the person who is doing it. Like don't get me wrong: I want Elon Musk, Donald Trump, JD Vance, and Mike Pence to all have really ironic deaths. I think it would be satisfying to read in the 1-hour I set aside for easily-digestible news reports. I think that's a human thing to want.

Not gonna fix the problems. The problems are bigger and less easily solved than the richest man in the world falling into a vat of acid (oh god please it would be so funny.) They're concepts. They're isolationism and Rugged Individualism and Corporate Greed. Its racism and xenophobia and misogyny and transphobia and ableism. And the people who think that they cannot, will not, and could never be guilty of those things is disturbingly susceptible to propaganda.

Acceptable Targets are satisfying. Sometimes it can be productive, like when you punch a Nazi and they stop spreading their shit! But punching a Nazi doesn't end Nazism all at once. You have to keep punching them. And you also have to understand why there are Nazis. And you also have to learn why they recruit who they recruit. And this means finding empathy for your enemy, which is hard to do. And the work is long! And sometimes its boring! And sometimes its thankless! And sometimes its fucking impossible!

So I see why some people would prefer Acceptable Targets. We all do it. Which is why I believe in patience in lieu of forgiveness. The work is long. Lives are short.

Not to dwell on the subject, but somewhere along the line the word 'cheer' got misinterpreted to mean 'take an active role in a person's healing process and forgive them wholesale of their actions, shield them from the consequences, and vote for them when they run for senator.'

[jjenthusee]

Remembering that you can write cute stuff is SO REAL. I get so invested in my angst, that I remember that Jason can be happy too :D (im sorry yall lol)

my thoughts below :)

This throws him for a loop. You’re reacting very well to a vigilante crawling through your window at 2:30 in the fucking morning.

As a current uni student, if one of gotham’s vigilantes came through my apartment window I would ask if they could take my trash out😭 I need to fix my sleep schedule

You nod, seemingly unfazed. “No worries. Do you work with Red Robin?”

The fact this is a common occurrence HAHA

Tim laughs. “I found them solving random problems on a Swedish forum.”

Jason blinks. Okay.

The fact they’re talking to Jason like all of this makes perfect sense and he’s the weird one is cracking me up

"Then why does he have to dress up like that?" you point out. “You can be a detective in normal clothes, you know.”

PLEAASEEEE AHAHA

"No," you counter, "that looks cool." You point your finger in Jason's direction, and he feels his face heat up.

YEAH HE DOES 😘

"So I can see how muscley they are." You stare at them, eyes wide. Jason coughs awkwardly, and your eyes flit back up. "Sorry," you say, not sounding sorry at all. "I like leather."

Oh! Oh. hehehe

"They have a boyfriend," Jason parrots, grinning behind the helmet.

HES SUCH A LIL SHIT AHAHA hes just happy to be there. I love him your honor

He gives such scary dog vibes, but is only there for support and i love him for it

You glance up at him. “Of course I can. I wrote it.”

Is it possible someone can be too cool?

“Hey, hey,” Jason cuts in. “Easy. Don’t worry, love. You can do it.”

PUT ME IN COACH, I CAN DO IT

“Shut up, O,” he grumbles. Jason glances at you to make sure you haven’t caught on to what they’re talking about, but you don’t seem to be paying attention; you’ve pulled up Steam and are scrolling through your game library.

Imagine pulling up supermarket simulator in front of the batfam

“Jason, you ass! Why didn’t you tell me you ran around in a fucking costume?” you shout down the line. Steph and Dick keel over laughing. Jason realizes everyone has taken the liberty of putting their comm back in.

PLEAAASEE the vendetta against the vigilante costume. Really giving off Edna from The Incredibles about ‘no capes’ HAHAHA

“Babe, you are a hacker,” he points out. “How come you didn’t share that with the class?”

They match each other so well, its perfect

“Hello,” Damian says helpfully.

MY SONNNNNNNNNN

“Language,” Bruce orders gently. Tim just about busts a gut while Jason waves frantically at Bruce, shaking his head rapidly. “Nice to meet you over the phone,” Bruce adds. Dick gives him a thumbs up.

If only bruce heard what they said earlier…and Jason trying to do damage control 😭

Jason turns back to your apartment. He can already see you in the window, arms crossed over your chest. You’re trying to scowl at him, but he can see the smile trying to escape.

he may wear a costume, but that’s MY MAN that wears a costume

THIS WAS SO FUN TO READ. Thank u for tagging me and I had so much fun! I've recently been feeling like I lost the excitement I had when finding and reading fics, so this was such a nice surprise and helped me a lot! A great reunion for me with the batfam and with reader’s fun personality. They really compliment Jason well and its such a fun dynamic. I LOVED IT ALL 💐

Everybody’s on the Call Line (Jason todd x gn!reader)

Humor, fluff, established relationship. whole batfam gets involved. Reader is a hacker

This happened because I read the latest coffee shop au from @jjenthusee (and you should too!) and I remembered that I can also write cute fluff. So here this fic is, straight from my drafts where it’s been languishing for months. Anyway.

Swearing, as always. No use of y/n. I don’t know how long this is

———

Jason eases himself carefully onto the fire escape, metal creaking beneath his boots. He stifles a groan. He’s taking a risk sneaking into your apartment like this, he knows he is. If you wake up and see Red Hood snooping around outside your window, you’ll probably call the cops. But he’s tired as all hell, patrol was long and stupid, and your apartment was closer. Jason will just slide in while you’re sleeping, stow his gear where you won’t find it, and collapse into your bed. In the morning, he’ll just say he let himself in with the spare key you gave him. Easy. All he has to do is disable the window alarm he’d gotten for you, and then he’s home free.

The alarm trips, and Jason moves to silence it but then realized it doesn’t matter, you’re still up, working at your computer.

He freezes as you glance over your shoulder, then turn around to face him. He still has his gear on. Shit.

“Uh, hi,” you offer, looking at him with a curious glance as he races to figure out an excuse. “I don’t think we’ve met before?”

This throws him for a loop. You’re reacting very well to a vigilante crawling through your window at 2:30 in the fucking morning. But you’ve given him an opening, and he’s going to take it.

“No,” he says shortly, wincing behind the helmet. He’s never spoken to you like this and instantly hates the tone he’s using, but he’s got a persona to keep up. Or something.

You nod, seemingly unfazed. “No worries. Do you work with Red Robin?”

What? Why are you asking about Tim? Do you have some secret Red Robin crush that he’s going to have to push Tim off a building for?

Dumbfounded, Jason answers, “Uh, sometimes?”

You nod again. “Do you think you could give something to him for me?”

What the shit is happening right now?

As if to help tip Jason’s world off its axis, you’re interrupted by a tap at the window. Jason looks to see Red Robin crouched on your fire escape. You wave him inside.

“Hey, Escher,” Tim says. “Hood.” Jason has no idea what the fuck is going on.

“I’ve got the script,” you say, holding out a flash drive to him, but Tim shakes his head. “No good. They updated the security.”

“Well, shit.” You turn and dump the USB stick into a glass of water on your desk. “It’s a paperweight now. Only took me five hours to figure out.”

“I know,” Tim says, clearly frustrated. “They keep outmaneuvering us.”

Wait, wait. Jason’s still three steps behind you. “Escher?” he demands.

Both you and Tim turn to look at him, frowning. “Like, M.C. Escher? But, spelled ‘emcee,’” you say, as if that explains anything. “It’s my screen name.”

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah, we work together.” Tim raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t know that?”

Jason shakes his head, and Tim looks at you for a flash of a moment before turning back to Jason. “Sorry,” he mouths, shrugging. Jason waves him off. He’ll deal with that later.

Tim turns back to your computer screen, but your eyes stay on Jason, narrowing. “What does it matter if we work together? Do I know you from somewhere?”

Shit. You were always too sharp for your own good. Jason’s tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth. “Uhh…”

You fold your arms over your chest. Behind you, out of your field of vision, Tim grins at Jason, delighted. Asshole.

“We don’t normally work with civilians,” Jason says, fishing for an excuse.

You sniff, rolling your eyes. “And yet, here you are. Which, the way, you haven’t explained. What are you doing in my bedroom?”

Fair. What is he doing in your bedroom? Would it freak you out if he said he was a burglar? Too late for that now.

“I told him to meet me here,” Tim says, pulling Jason’s ass out of the fire. “Sorry I didn’t tell you first.”

You shrug. “S’okay,” you say, spinning back around in your desk chair to face the screen.

Over your shoulder, Tim mouths, “you owe me.” Jason gives him the finger.

“Do you have a safe copy of the new security system?” you ask, looking at Tim intently.

He shakes his head. “Not yet, Oracle is working on duplicating it.”

You slump down in your chair. “Drat. I hate waiting.”

“Yeah,” Tim sits on the floor next to your bed, knees to his chest. “She said it’d be ready in a few hours.”

“Balls.” You fidget with a pen on your desk.

“Hold on. How did you start working with Red over here?” Jason asks. He knows you work in tech, that you’re a programmer, but he didn’t realize you were building code for fucking Batman.

Tim laughs. “I found them solving random problems on a Swedish forum.”

Jason blinks. Okay.

“Well, yeah. You found me there. Oracle found me hacking your comm links,” you grin, pleased with yourself.

Holy shit. “You got into the comm links?”

“Yeah,” you nod, satisfied. “I’ve done it twice now,” you add smugly.

“Don’t tell B,” Tim warns. “He doesn’t know. Oracle said she wouldn’t tell.”

Wow. You must be the real deal. He wonders if he can get you to fuck with Bruce’s plans, just to be a shit. "How long have you been working for the Caped Crusader, then?"

"I don't work for Batman," you say primly, as Tim sighs. "I help him out when you guys can't get your shit together."

Jason snickers under his breath. "Sore subject, huh?"

"They don’t like B," Tim confirms from the floor. "If you did it would make everything easier," he grumbles.

"It's stupid," you insist. "Come on, how is this a viable solution to any long-term problem?"

Jason laughs outright as Tim sputters. "He's a detective! He detects!"

"Then why does he have to dress up like that?" you point out. “You can be a detective in normal clothes, you know.”

"He needs armor, he keeps getting shot at!"

"Explain the cape, then," you shoot back. "Justify that monstrosity."

"It's fucking idiotic," Jason adds, piling on gleefully. "It'd be different if he could fly, but he just hops around."

Tim gasps, affronted, while you crack up in your chair. "Thank you. I mean, look at yourself, Red. You're sitting on my bedroom floor in a goddamn cape."

"It looks cool," Tim says defensively.

"No," you counter, "that looks cool." You point your finger in Jason's direction, and he feels his face heat up.

"Oh, come on," Tim scoffs. "You think his costume is cool?"

"Uh, yeah," you say, eyes taking Jason in as you nod. "Very cool. Very hot."

"Oh my god," Tim mutters. "It's tactically stupid. Why are his forearms exposed?"

"So I can see how muscley they are." You stare at them, eyes wide. Jason coughs awkwardly, and your eyes flit back up. "Sorry," you say, not sounding sorry at all. "I like leather."

"Of course you like his costume," Tim mutters under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you shoot at him, and Tim flusters. "Why do you care if I don't like your costume?"

"Yeah," Jason adds, letting some menace fall into his voice. "Why do you care if they don’t like your costume?"

"I didn't—I wasn't trying to—"

"I have a boyfriend," you interrupt, looking at Tim scornfully.

"They have a boyfriend," Jason parrots, grinning behind the helmet.

"Oh my god. I know you have a boyfriend. Relax," Tim pacifies you. "Relax," he adds, nodding at Jason. Jason grunts.

Before you can argue further, there’s another tap at your window, and Cass slips softly into the room. You light up. “Hello, my love!” you greet her excitedly. Cass raps you on the top of your head, and you beam up at her. Your hands twitch toward her before you stop yourself, folding them in your lap. Cass turns to Jason, placing her hand carefully on his arm. He bumps against her, waiting until she pushes back lightly. She then moves onto Tim, tugging gently on a lock of his hair, before depositing a flash drive on the desk. You snatch it up eagerly.

From Oracle, Cass signs.

“It’s O’s duplicate!” Tim plucks it from your fingers, driving it into your desktop.

“Be nice to her,” you warn, running a hand over your computer as the file loads. Strings of code write themselves across your screen. Jason moves forward to get a better look at you. He can’t help it, he wants to see you in action. Your face is scrunched up, tongue between your teeth as your eyes flash back and forth, following the cursor. “It’s incomplete.” You squint at Tim. “What gives?”

Tim tsks. “I don’t know. Let me get Oracle.” He puts a hand to his ear. “Oracle, come in.”

Barbara’s voice answers in Jason’s ear. “Here. I know, I know, it’s not all there,” she says, annoyed. “Let Escher know that I had to reverse engineer it from what we found.”

“She says she has to reverse engineer it,” Tim repeats.

You drum your fingers on the desk. “Okay, what else does she know?”

“What else do you—”

“Hold on, this is stupid,” you interrupt. “Can you, like, put her on speaker? Actually,” you click over to another screen, enter a command. “You’re broadcasting live, O.” Jason hears Barbara’s sigh through the speakers of your computer. “That’s three times,” you add smugly.

Jason let’s out a low whistle. Damn. You’re really good at this.

“We've got to stop meeting like this, Escher.” Barbara almost sounds amused. “How did you get in this time?”

“Hiya, babe.” You click back to your project. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out. I don’t want you closing your back door.”

Barbara chuckles. “Red and I will shut you out.”

“But for how long? I’m too slippery, baby.” Jason almost blushes underneath his helmet. It always trips him up when you talk like this.

“I had to reverse engineer the code from what it spit out when I tried to get in this time,” Barbara explains. “Can you fill in the gaps?”

“Some of them.” You type quickly, deleting code as you get error messages and retyping just as fast.

“Wait, here…” Tim points to something on the screen.

“Yeah, okay,” you back up to where he’s pointing and add something.

“There’s something about the updated security,” Barbara adds. “I think there’s a pattern somewhere.”

“Where?” you demand.

“I don’t know. Gut feeling. But I think I’m right.”

“Do you think there’s something generating new code?” Tim asks. “Like, a program that’s spitting out new security?”

“Oh.” Your fingers still on the keys, face relaxing. “Yeah. Good call, Red.” You scan the code again, scrolling back to the top. “Okay. This changes things.” You start from the beginning, erasing whole sections of Barbara’s work and typing out new code. “Well, shit,” you laugh under your breath. “This is some sexy-ass code we’re looking at.”

“You can fill in the blanks?” Jason asks.

You glance up at him. “Of course I can. I wrote it.”

“What?” Tim shouts. “This is you?”

“It’s me,” you confirm. “Guilty.” A small smile plays around your lips. “Sorry.” Cass steps forward, pinching your ear until you yelp.

“Fuck, Escher.” Tim rubs the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know you were a traitor.”

“Chill, bird brain,” you say defensively, leaning out of Cass’ reach. “This was from, like, five years ago. I needed some cash.”

“You could be on B’s payroll,” Tim offers.

You snort as Barbara huffs a laugh over the comm line. “Fat chance, I’ve been trying to convince them for months.”

“I’m not a fucking lapdog. I play by my own rules,” you insist.

“Yeah?” Jason can’t help but push you. “And what rules are those?”

You cock an eye at him warily. “The rule of not tying my kite to some lunatic.”

Jason nods. Can’t argue with that one.

“Anyway,” you turn back to the computer. “Because I wrote it, I can build you the malware.”

“To get past the security or to neutralize the program spitting out new code?” Barbara asks over the line.

“Dealer’s choice,” you say, then stick your tongue between your teeth as you squint at the screen. “I can make both happen.”

The comm crackles in Jason’s ear. “Oracle, come in,” Bruce barks.

Tim whips his head toward you with a crack. “Nothing from you now, Escher,” Barbara warns. “I’m patching him through.”

You grin, eagerly pretending to zip your lips.

“Here,” Barbara answers.

“I heard from one of my informants,” Bruce’s monotone growl fills the room. Jason catches you roll your eyes and almost bursts out laughing. “They’re going to get into the controls for Blackgate prison.”

“This is Black Mask?” Barbara clarifies.

Bruce grunts as your eyebrows shoot up. “This is Black Mask?” you whisper, except you’ve never been very good at whispering. Tim slices a hand over his neck to silence you as Jason moves to your computer. He’s been eyeing the program you’re using to broadcast the comm connection, and he thinks he’s found the mute button. He taps a key and then turns his head toward you. “Off?”

You nod. “Off. Thanks. This is Black Mask’s security?”

“Yeah, he’s making a move against the jail. He’s going to get some of his guys out,” Tim explains.

“Hmm. Hmm hmm hmm.” You tap your fingers against your chin.

“What?” Tim folds his arms over his chest.

“I originally sold it to the Falcones.” You flick your hair out of your face. “Guess they sold me out behind my back.”

A security program that’s making its way through the mob? That’s…really useful, actually.

“Can you get in and stop them?” Bruce asks.

“Maybe,” Oracle hedges. “Hold on, I have to call in reinforcements.” She mutes Bruce’s line. “Escher, you’re up.”

“Wait, you want it now?” you say, aghast. “Christ, how long do I have?”

“Act quickly.” Bruce orders. “My intel says they’re moving at 3:45am.”

Your eyes fly to the clock on your monitor. “What the fuck!” you screech. “That’s in forty minutes! I can’t do it in forty minutes! I have to break through my own walls!”

“Escher,” Barbara starts, just as Tim says “listen, you have to—”

“I can’t, it’s not enough time!” you wail.

“Hey, hey,” Jason cuts in. “Easy. Don’t worry, love. You can do it.”

You look at him fearfully. “You haven’t even told me what to do!”

“Just get past the security,” Jason says patiently. “Don’t worry about shutting down the whole program.”

You nod at him, eyes wide.

“Deep breaths, now,” he instructs. “Come on, in for two, hold, out for four. We’ll do it together. Ready?”

You nod again.

“Okay.” Jason sucks in a breath, loudly so it’ll register over the modulator. You copy him, inhaling, holding, and exhaling on his rhythm. After a few breaths you shake your head, turning back to the computer.

“Alright. I can make it happen.” You resume typing, eyes narrowed as you focus.

“We’re alright, B, I’ve got someone on it,” Oracle says, satisfied.

Tim turns to Jason, clearly impressed. Jason shrugs. You’ve been together for a while now, he knows how to pull you out of a spiral.

He turns back to you. You’re ripping through code at a hundred miles an hour, hunched over the keyboard. Jason grimaces, he’s always trying to get you to sit up straight to help your tech neck. He’ll have to rub out the knots in your shoulders later.

Jason feels Cass’ eyes on him, and he tilts his head toward her. Less than forty minutes, she signs to him. I’ll have to take it back to the Clocktower.

Jason’s thought of that. He evenly points his chin in your direction. You can handle it, he knows you can. Cass nods.

Tim coughs quietly, and Jason raises his head to look at him. “You want the keys to the castle?” he mutters.

He means code you built that generates new security programs. Jason nods. “But that’s just between us, yeah?” It would be loads easier for Jason if he keeps the code out of Bruce’s hands. Black Mask has been operating in Jason’s territory, and Jason has a long string of investigations against him, well-beyond the scope of this Blackgate shit. Bruce needs to keep his nose out of it.

Tim scoffs. “Fine. Seems like you should get first dibs anyway.” He nods towards your desk where you’re still working stubbornly.

The room is silent, all three of them letting you work. After a few minutes, Tim steps toward you. “Here, you need any hel—”

Jason throws an arm out to stop him, just as Cass grabs his wrist and tugs him backwards, shaking her head. He holds up his hands in surrender.

Fifteen minutes later, you rap your knuckles on your desk. “Oi, peanut gallery!” You spin around in your chair, smiling wickedly. “I solved your case for you!”

“It’s not a case,” Tim mutters, and Jason scoffs.

“Don’t be jealous, RR,” Babs says over the line. “You can both be the prettiest.” Tim splutters as you laugh delightedly.

“Nice job,” Jason says, placing a hand on your shoulder. You grin up at him. He catches Cass and Tim share a look, sees her sign something too fast for his eyes to follow.

“Batgirl’s bringing it to you now, Oracle,” Tim says as you unplug the flash drive and hand it to Cass. You wave to her as she slips through the window.

“My backup came through,” Babs reports to Bruce. “They’ll be obsolete in a few minutes.”

“Copy.” The line fizzles as Babs cuts him off.

“Fuck yeah,” you grin in satisfaction. “Nothing like hearing that overgrown Bat say ‘copy.’”

Jason cackles as Tim rolls his eyes. “Oracle,” he says loudly. “Hood was in the dark about our friend here.” His eyes flick to you before he looks at Jason meaningfully.

And just what the fuck does he think he’s doing? Jason all but snarls at him.

“Huh. I could’ve sworn you were smarter than that, Hood,” Barbara admonishes.

“Shut up, O,” he grumbles. Jason glances at you to make sure you haven’t caught on to what they’re talking about, but you don’t seem to be paying attention; you’ve pulled up Steam and are scrolling through your game library.

“Maybe it’s time to clue them in. Take off your party hat,” Barbara says meaningfully. Tim nods forcefully.

“Butt out,” Jason says half-heartedly, but it doesn’t stick. He’s been thinking about telling you about Red Hood anyway; you’ve been together for a year and a half. He’s been…well, he’s scared. But maybe he shouldn’t be.

“We’d have to vote on it,” he says gruffly. Tim pumps his fist in the air. “In person,” he says meaningfully. Comm links aren’t safe, apparently.

“You have my vote,” Babs says confidently. “And Batgirl’s, too, she’s here.” Barbara pauses meaningfully. “I’m happy for you, Hood.”

“Me too!” Tim pipes up immediately.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason waves them off, like his heart isn’t pounding. “Can you call everyone over?”

“Roger that.” Barbara seems pleased. “Hood is asking us all to meet near him,” she broadcasts aloud. “Sending you coordinates.”

Dick, Steph, Bruce, and Damian all copy. Jason steels himself. “Alright, RR, time to go.”

You glance at him as he moves toward the window. “Heading out?”

“Yeah,” Tim answers. “Got a big family meeting to get to.” He grins at Jason.

“Okay. See you around. Nice meeting you,” you say to Jason, before turning back to your screen.

“Uh, yeah,” he says uncomfortably, while Tim snickers. “See you later.”

The troops have already assembled two rooftops over. “Hood, what’s the situation?” Bruce asks sternly.

“The situation,” Tim starts happily, “is—”

“Hold on,” Jason cuts him off. “Disconnect comm links.” He watches warily as everyone takes them out of their ears.

“Compromised?” Dick asks with concern.

“Uh, yeah.” Jason scratches the back of his neck. “Listen, uh…” he looks at Tim helplessly.

“Jason’s dating Escher.”

“What!” Dick screams as Steph claps her hands together excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating anyone?”

“Uh—”

“Fuck, yeah!” Steph interrupts. “This is great! Escher’s the freaking best!”

“Language,” Bruce says as Jason takes off the helmet to glare at Steph accusingly.

“We play Minecraft together,” she explains. “I didn’t know you two were dating!”

“Wait, hold on. I thought you all knew about that.” Jason shifts his glare to Tim.

Tim shrugs. “Only me and Babs knew,” he says.

“Timmy, why didn’t you share!” Dick groans, bounding over to ruffle Jason’s hair.

Jason pushes him away, trying to swipe his feet out from under him. Dick dodges easily, throwing a light right hook in return. “Wasn’t any of your business, now was it?” Jason says gruffly.

Tim looks at Dick, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t want to get on his bad side.”

“Fair.” Dick grins softly at Jason, bumping shoulders with him. “Nice job, Little Wing.”

Jason blushes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Congrats, Todd, but why are we all here?” Damian interrupts.

“I’m gonna tell ‘em,” Jason says simply. “About this. If it’s cool.”

“Fine with me,” Steph says instantly.

Tim nods, “seconded. Babs and Cass say it’s fine with them, we asked before we went dark.”

“Well, who am I to stand in their way,” Dick half-jokes, but he’s looking at Bruce with serious eyes. So is Jason.

“I’ll follow Father’s ruling,” Damian says stoutly.

That leaves the big man himself. Bruce smiles gently. “Of course, Jaylad. We’re all happy for you.”

Jason blushes all over again. “Thanks, old man.” He lets out a breath.

“But we have to ask Duke,” Bruce adds meaningfully.

“I texted him, he says it’s fine,” Tim says quickly. “But also, uh—” he holds his hand to his ear.

Warily, Jason puts his comm back in. “Jason, what the fuck!” you shriek. “What the fucking fuck is this!”

“I forgot to disconnect,” Babs says sheepishly.

“Jason, you ass! Why didn’t you tell me you ran around in a fucking costume?” you shout down the line. Steph and Dick keel over laughing. Jason realizes everyone has taken the liberty of putting their comm back in.

“Baby, please,” he says resignedly.

“Baby?” Dick mouths, beaming.

“Don’t you fucking ‘baby’ me!” you holler.

“Babe, you are a hacker,” he points out. “How come you didn’t share that with the class?”

That makes you pause. “Fair fucking point, I guess,” you mutter. Jason sees Bruce try to tug the comm out of Damian’s ear, but Damian dances out of reach.

“Uh, also, can you cool it with the swearing?” Jason asks. “There’s a kid here.”

“…if it’s Robin I am going to throw up.”

“Hello,” Damian says helpfully.

Your end of the line is silent.

“Hey, Escher, it’s Spoiler!” Steph cuts in. “Nice job shacking up with Hood.” She eyes Jason evilly.

“This is a fucking ambush,” you grind out. “Jason, you fucking ambushed me.”

“Language,” Bruce orders gently. Tim just about busts a gut while Jason waves frantically at Bruce, shaking his head rapidly. “Nice to meet you over the phone,” Bruce adds. Dick gives him a thumbs up.

“…likewise,” you say eventually. “I hope you’ll excuse me, but this has been insane, and I’m disconnecting. Jason, get your as— get back here after you’ve finished your family dinner.” Your end goes dead.

“They seem nice,” Bruce says after a moment. “We’ll have to talk about how they got into the comm links,” he looks at Tim reproachfully.

“See you later, Hood,” Dick says easily, nodding at your building.

Jason turns back to your apartment. He can already see you in the window, arms crossed over your chest. You’re trying to scowl at him, but he can see the smile trying to escape.

He shrugs his shoulders, grinning. You throw up your hands but beckon him anyway. Come on, come back.

Don’t worry, Jason’s coming.

[redflannelsheets]

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