So, Uh I Sorta Try To Do A Edit(?) İts My First Time So Sorry If You Didn’t Like It? İs Anybody Have

SOAKED

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Words: 12,4k

Plot: Jason comes home bruised and sore, and you do what you do best: take care of him. But one thing leads to another, and soon, you're on your knees, making him fall apart, only to have him return the favor tenfold.

You don't even remember falling asleep. One minute you were curled up on the couch, legs tucked under you, Jason's hoodie swallowing you whole, and the next, your eyes snap open at the sound of keys jingling just outside the door.

Your heart stumbles over itself as you push up on your elbows, eyes darting to the clock glowing dimly from the wall. 3:26 am.

Not bad. Not great either, but you've seen worse. You rub your face, still heavy with sleep, and the fabric of Jason's hoodie pools around your wrists as you move. It smells like him, sharp leather and gunpowder, something faintly metallic that always clings to his clothes, and underneath all that, the warmth of his skin, like sunshine baked into cotton. You wear it every time he's out late. Sleeping in your bed without him feels wrong—too cold, too empty—so you do this instead, drowning in the closest thing you have to his arms.

Another jingle, then the unmistakable scrape of the deadbolt turning. Your heart gives another sharp little kick, but this time, it's relief flooding in. He's home.

The door swings open, and Jason steps inside. Bloody.

"Fuck."

You're off the couch before you even realize you've moved, bare feet slapping against the floor as you rush to him, wide awake now and already scanning for where he's hurt.

"Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay? Baby—"

He shushes you softly, reaching up to pull off his Red Hood mask. The metal clatters onto the table beside the door, leaving his hair a mess, damp at the edges with sweat.

"Shhh. It's okay, doll. Not my blood."

Your breath catches, but he says it like it's supposed to make you feel better. It doesn't. If anything, it makes your pulse race harder because something happened, something bad enough to coat his chest in sticky red streaks and leave his shoulders locked up so tight you can see it through his jacket.

His jaw ticks, tension riding every inch of his frame, and you know him well enough to know that he's not gonna talk about it yet. Not until you've pried it out of him or worn him down enough to let him breathe again.

So you step closer, hands skimming over his sides, feeling for injuries anyway. He's solid under your touch, all heat and muscle, even through the armor and blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up," you whisper, voice softer.

You don't push for answers, not yet. First, you get him warm. Get his hands on you. Let him remember he's home. Jason exhales like he's been holding his breath since he walked through the door.

"Yeah," he says, voice lower, rougher, already starting to crack at the edges. "Yeah, okay, baby."

He kicks the door shut behind him with a solid thunk, his boots following right after—one, then the other, dropped lazily beside the mat. His jacket hits the table next, heavy with blood and dirt, and before he does anything else, his hand darts out to flip the lock. You watch the muscles in his forearm flex as he checks it twice, then once more, a habit he's never broken no matter how safe this place is.

Then his attention swings back to you, and his expression softens, just barely, at the sight of you standing there all sleepy and worried in his hoodie, the hem brushing your bare thighs. His lips twitch like he's fighting a grin, but he doesn't say a word about it—doesn't have to.

Instead, he steps in close, warm hands catching your waist, tugging you toward him just enough to kiss your forehead. His breath is warm, lips softer than they should be after a night like this, and you feel some of that coiled up tension drain from his body as he stands there holding you, grounded for the first time in hours.

He doesn't pull away until you take his hand, fingers lacing through his like it's second nature, and guide him toward the bathroom. His steps are heavy, the kind of weight that comes from hours of running and fighting, but he follows without a word.

He's too tired to tease, but not too tired to sneak one last glance at your legs, bare and soft beneath his hoodie, and there's that twitch at the corner of his mouth again. The kind that says Fuck, I love seein' my girl in my clothes, even if he's never gonna say it out loud.

In the bathroom, you flick on the light and step past him to turn on the shower, hand testing the temperature until it's hot enough to chase the chill out of his bones. Jason, meanwhile, starts to work the buckles on his gear, fingers moving automatically. One shoulder piece drops to the floor with a clatter, and you whirl around so fast he freezes, brow lifting.

"Jason Peter Todd."

Your voice lands somewhere between a scold and a soft plea, and his head tips to the side, confused. You step right into his space, small hands nudging his out of the way as you reach for his shirt yourself.

"I've got you. You don't have to—just—let me help, okay? You're all stiff, baby, and you're probably bruised to hell, and you're not supposed to—"

His hands settle on your wrists, and for a second you think he's gonna argue, but all he does is huff—this half laugh, half sigh like there she goes again, and fuck if it doesn't make his heart swell. "Ain't no winnin' with you, huh, pretty girl?"

"Not a chance," you smile up at him, sweet and stubborn all at once. "So stand still and let me."

Jason's bigger than you by a mile, but he knows better than to fight you when you've got that look in your eye. So he does what you say, letting his arms hang loose at his sides while you take off the other shoulder piece, fingers careful around the edges of bruises and scrapes. His skin's warm beneath the shirt, all solid muscle and scars you know by heart, and for a minute, all you can think about is how strong he is, and how soft he lets himself be with you.

You work him out of his shirt, fingers gentle but determined, peeling it off like you're unwrapping something precious even though the fabric's half ruined with grime and blood. It lands in the washing machine with a wet plop, and you barely glance at it before you're on to his belt, tugging at the buckle with a frown so serious, Jason can't help himself.

"Y'know," he drawls, voice low and teasing, "never seen someone so goddamn focused on takin' my clothes off and not tryin' to jump me."

"Shut up." Your nose scrunches, mouth set in that determined little pout that drives him crazy. "If you're gonna come home looking like a crime scene, the least you can do is let me clean you up without the peanut gallery commentary."

Jason snorts, arms loose at his sides, just letting you work. "Ain't my fault you're cute when you're bossy. That little face—shit, baby, you could probably scare Bruce if you tried hard enough."

Your glare could cut glass, but your hands stay gentle, popping the button on his pants before sliding them down his legs. "Get in the shower, smartass."

"Yes, ma'am."

He even throws in a sloppy salute, which earns him a playful slap right on his ass. He turns just enough to look over his shoulder, all smirk and dark eyes, like Careful, baby, do that again and I might forget how tired I am.

You flip him off for good measure, which only makes him laugh harder as he steps into the warm spray. For a second, the air fogs up, steam curling around his skin, and he tips his head back, letting the water rinse away the first layer of the night's grime.

The tension in his shoulders melts just a fraction, but only a fraction, because the second he turns back around, you're climbing in after him, hoodie already on the floor, and thank fuck for whoever designed this shower because the cabin's massive and you both fit in it with no problem.

Jason's brows lift, appreciation written all over his face. "Well, shit. Ain't I the lucky one."

The water's hot, steam curling between you, misting the glass walls of the shower. You step closer, bare feet against the slick tile, and when he turns to face you fully, your heart sinks just a little.

Because there they are. The bruises.

Deep, ugly smudges already blooming across his ribs, darker ones wrapping around his bicep like fingerprints, and a nasty scrape high on his shoulder where something must've caught him just right. You sigh softly, fingertips tracing over the damage, careful not to press too hard, and when you lift your eyes to his, they're already waiting for you.

"What happened, Jay?"

Your voice is gentle, but there's an edge underneath, sharpened by hours of waiting and worrying. Jason closes his eyes for a beat, head tipping back under the spray, water trailing down his neck and over the hard lines of his chest.

"Wrong place, wrong fuckin' time," he mutters, voice low and a little rough. "Some poor bastard got jumped by a bunch of goons in the Narrows. Tried to step in, but it was too late."

His mouth twists like he's already thinking about what you're gonna say to that.

"Then what's with the bruises?"

You cross your arms over your chest, trying for stern, but you just look small, standing there naked and wet, water gliding down your skin while your brows knit together in frustration.

Jason rubs the back of his neck, sheepish in a way only you get to see. "Well, I was on patrol, so..."

You scoff, shaking your head as you pinch the bridge of your nose. The steam makes your fingers damp, but it doesn't hide the way your shoulders curl inward, tension wracking your small frame.

You exhale, voice soft, a little wobbly at the edges. "You promised you'd be more careful."

You can't look at him when you say it, so you reach for the body wash instead, hands shaking just enough to make the bottle slip in your grip. Jason's hand is faster, catching your wrist gently before you can turn away completely.

"Hey, it's okay."

His fingers tilt your chin up, guiding you to meet his eyes, and you're not sure if it's the heat from the water or the look on his face that makes you dizzy. He leans down, lips brushing yours, soft at first, a grounding kiss meant to anchor you both. But the second his mouth presses to yours, something inside you buckles.

Your free hand fists in the wet hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss with a soft, desperate sound. Jason groans low in his throat, like you just knocked the air out of his chest, and his other hand slips around your waist, dragging you flush against him. Your bare skin slides against his, slick with water, and the kiss turns messy, hungry, all teeth and tongue and the kind of heat that leaves you lightheaded.

His tongue parts your lips, slow and filthy, licking into your mouth like he's got all the time in the world. He tastes like mint and something darker underneath—copper and smoke—and you take it all, kissing him like you need to memorize the shape of him. Your bodies press so close you can feel the thud of his heart against your ribs, and his fingers tighten at your waist, like he can't quite let you go yet.

When you finally pull back, breathless and flushed, Jason rests his forehead against yours, water running down the bridge of his nose. "I promised I'll always come back to you," he says softly. "And I meant it. I'm still here, doll. Shit like this? It's inevitable. But it's just a few bruises."

Your throat works around a hard swallow, eyes flicking over the marks on his skin. "Yeah," you whisper. "Just bruises."

Your voice cracks a little, but you cover it by squeezing a generous dollop of body wash into your palm, focusing on the feel of the slippery soap instead of the ache in your chest.

You start at his shoulders, fingers gliding over skin and muscle, slow and deliberate, cleaning him up like it's your own body you're tending to. His eyes never leave your face, watching the way your brow furrows in concentration, how your lower lip gets caught between your teeth every time you find another bruise.

You finish washing him with slow, careful hands, fingers mapping over familiar muscle and scar, every touch a quiet promise—you're home, you're safe, you're mine. Jason's eyes stay on you the whole time, half lidded and heavy with exhaustion, but there's something else simmering underneath, something darker.

When you go to grab the soap again, reaching for your own skin, his hands catch your wrists, his grip gentle but firm. "Nuh-uh, sweet girl. My turn."

"Jay, I'm fine and—"

"Don't care," he cuts you off, voice low and rough around the edges. "Lemme take care of my girl."

And really, what are you gonna do? Fight a man built like him, standing naked and wet in a shower that's already fogged up enough to feel like a sauna? You let him, because even though you fuss, you love this part. The way his hands move with purpose, how he touches you like you're the only thing worth slowing down for.

His fingers are slick with soap when they slide up your arms, over your shoulders, down your sides. The water makes everything slippery, his palms gliding over every inch of skin like he's memorizing you all over again.

But it's when he reaches your chest that you feel the shift, the way his breath catches, how his thumb drags deliberately over your nipple, slicking it up with soap and hot water, until the soft bud pebbles under his touch.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, more to himself than you. "Look at you."

You glance down, following his gaze, and yeah, no wonder he's obsessed. The soap drips down the curve of your tits, slow and thick, catching on your nipples and running in slick little trails down your stomach. Jason's hands follow the path, palms curving to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing at the soapy peaks until you gasp, back arching into his touch.

"Jay..."

It's half a scold, half a moan, and all it does is make his grip tighten, fingers kneading like he needs to feel every inch of you. He groans, low and wrecked, watching the way your tits bounce in his hands, slippery and perfect.

"Can't fuckin' help it," he says, voice rough and low, like gravel dragged over silk. "You got these perfect tits, all wet 'n slippery... How the fuck am I not supposed to play with 'em?"

His thumbs roll your nipples again, slow and deliberate, and the heat between your legs flares so fast it's embarrassing. He laughs, low and filthy, dipping his head down to mouth at your throat.

"Bet I could get you off just like this," he murmurs, squeezing just a little firmer. "Just my hands on your pretty tits, workin' you up 'til you're beggin' me to fuck you."

His teeth graze your skin, just enough to make you shiver. "Should I test it, baby?"

You kiss him to shut him up, or at least, that's the excuse you give yourself. But the second your mouth finds his, it turns filthy fast. His tongue slides against yours, tasting like water and heat and something purely Jason, and your hand drops between you without thinking, wrapping around his hard cock in one slick stroke.

He groans, deep and rumbling, but it's when you twist your wrist just right that it happens—that soft, needy moan that punches out of his chest, so unexpected you feel it in your cunt. You swallow it greedily, sucking on his tongue while your hand strokes him slow and firm, the soap making everything glide like silk.

"Jesus—fuck, baby," he mutters, forehead dropping against yours as his hips jerk into your fist. "You know what that shit does to me."

"Mhmm." You pump him again, savoring the way his cock twitches in your grip, thick and hot and already leaking at the tip. "Love your moans, Jay."

Your voice is pure sin, all low and sweet, with that dangerous edge that only comes out when you've got him like this. Raw and open, all that Red Hood bravado stripped away until it's just your man, desperate and wrecked in your hands.

Jason growls, hands sliding down to grab your ass, pulling you hard against him so you can feel exactly what you're doing to him.

"Keep talkin' like that," he warns, voice tight, "and I'm gonna bend you over right fuckin' here."

And God, you're already so wet, you could probably take him just like this, no prep, no nothing, but you're not done teasing him yet.

Your hand works his cock slow and deliberate, fingers snug around the thick shaft, every stroke slick with water and his own leaking precum. He's so fucking hard, heavy in your grip, veins standing out along the length, the head flushed and swollen as it slides against your palm. You twist your wrist at the top, fingers teasing over that sensitive ridge just under the head, and Jason's hips twitch, like he can't help himself.

"Goddamn," he mutters, voice low and frayed at the edges. "Always so fuckin' good to me."

The praise makes you shiver, thighs pressing together for a second, and that's all the invitation Jason needs. His hand slides down, fingers tracing your ass, his palm big enough to spread you open like nothing. You barely have time to gasp before two of his fingers slip between your thighs from behind, sliding through your slick folds like he's been waiting all night to get his hands on you.

"Jesus, baby." he groans. "You're so fuckin' wet already."

His fingers slide lower, not rushing, just exploring, tracing over your clit before dipping back to your entrance, dragging your slickness back up with every stroke. It's teasing, maddening, like he wants to see how worked up he can get you before you snap. And it's working, because you're already trembling, thighs spreading wider, giving him all the access he wants.

"Such a good fuckin' girl," he mutters, fingers finally pressing inside you, two at once, slow and steady. "Takin' me so sweet. Always so fuckin' tight for me."

You moan into his mouth, the sound soft and helpless, and your grip on his cock tightens just a little, enough to make him hiss between his teeth, his fingers curling inside you like a reflex. He's filling you so good, even with just his fingers, and the angle from behind only makes it dirtier, your ass pushed back into his hand while your chest stays flush to his skin, tits pressed against warm, wet muscle.

"Greedy little thing," Jason teases, voice warm and dark. "Jerkin' me off while you fuck yourself on my fingers. You missed me that much, huh?"

You don't even try to deny it, you just kiss him again, harder this time, all tongue and heat, your hand stroking him faster. Water runs down both your bodies, dripping between you, and every movement feels slick and desperate, like you're both already too far gone to slow down. Your palm twists over the head of his cock, smearing precum down the length, and Jason groans into your mouth, fingers fucking into you deeper until you can't help but moan right back.

"Fuckin' love those sounds," he mutters, lips dragging down your jaw. "My girl sounds so fuckin' sweet when she's needy."

His lips find yours again, slower this time, tongue licking into your mouth in lazy, filthy strokes, and you know—you just know—this is only the beginning.

The thought hits you so suddenly it's almost embarrassing. How much you want to get your mouth on him, to taste every inch, to feel his dick sliding down your throat while water beats down your back. You want to swallow every groan, every curse, every helpless little noise that slips past his lips when you've got him too deep, choking on it.

You shift against him, one hand on his chest, the other still stroking his cock as you gently guide him back until his broad shoulders hit the shower wall. The tile is cool against his skin, but the way you look up at him—all wide, needy eyes, water dripping down your face, lips already parted—that's what sends a little shiver down his spine.

"Baby—" he starts, but you're already moving, already tugging his hand from between your thighs, even though your pussy clenches around nothing in protest.

You need him in your mouth more than you need his fingers, and the second you sink to your knees, Jason's head tips back against the wall with a low, wrecked groan.

"Fuckin' hell, doll," he mutters, voice all gravel and heat. "Gonna kill me with those pretty fuckin' eyes."

You smile, sweet and filthy at once, licking up the underside of his cock, tongue tracing that thick vein from base to tip. He's so hot in your mouth, the taste of salt and skin mixed with the faint bitterness of his precum as you swirl your tongue over the head, lapping up every drop like you're starved for it.

"Goddamn," Jason hisses, one hand finding your hair, fingers sliding in to grip the back of your head. "You're so fuckin' pretty down there. Look at you, baby—fuck, lookin' at me like you wanna swallow me whole."

You hum around him, keeping eye contact as you take him deeper, lips stretching around the thick head, your tongue flattening against the underside. He's big—too big, really—but you love the stretch, love the way your jaw aches already, love the way Jason's chest rises and falls faster the deeper you go.

"Such a good girl," he mutters, voice just shy of breaking. "My good girl. Look at you, takin' me so sweet, fuckin' droolin' for it."

You are, slick spit dripping down your chin already, mixing with the water, and you love it. Love how messy it is, how desperate you feel, how Jason's fingers tighten in your hair like he's holding himself back from just thrusting into your mouth.

"Goddamn mouth was made for me," Jason growls, thumb brushing the corner of your lips, gathering up the slick mess and smearing it across your cheek. "Prettiest fuckin' sight I've ever seen."

You take him deeper in response, throat fluttering around the tip, eyes watering as you try to swallow him down, and he groans, low and broken, the sound vibrating all the way down to your cunt.

"Shit, baby, you're gonna make me lose my fuckin' mind."

You pull off him with a wet pop, lips glossy with spit and precum, breathing hard like you just ran a mile. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, slick and shiny, and you look up at him through soaked lashes, eyes dark with need.

"Jay," you whisper, voice a little wrecked already, throat raw from just what you've taken so far. "Wanna feel you deeper." You swallow hard, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. "Wanna feel you fuck my throat."

Jason's whole body tenses, a shudder running through him so hard you feel it under your fingertips. His jaw tightens, water dripping down his face, and you swear you can see him debating it for a split second. Like maybe he's worried he'll get carried away, worried he'll ruin you if he really lets go.

"Baby—" his voice is hoarse, almost strained. "You sure? Don't wanna hurt you."

You fucking melt, because underneath all that roughness, all that unhinged hunger, there's him. Your Jason. Who always asks, always checks. Even when you're on your knees, begging for it.

You nod, so sweet, so sure, giving his cock a slow stroke just to make your point. "I want it, Jay."

"Fuckin' hell," he mutters, voice already breaking. "C'mere."

You grip his thighs, steadying yourself, fingers digging into thick muscle as you let him guide you—both hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks, so gentle it makes you ache. But the second your lips part and he slides back in, the tenderness shifts, replaced by hunger so sharp it steals your breath.

"Open up, baby," Jason rasps, hips rolling forward slow and steady, letting you adjust around the stretch of him. "That's it, such a good girl, fuck."

His cock slides deeper, the head nudging the back of your throat, and you gag—a wet, helpless sound that makes his hips jerk. His fingers tighten in your hair, his own breath hitching in his chest, like the sound of you choking on him just flipped some feral switch in his brain.

"Shit," he groans, low and guttural. "Takin' me so deep—look at you, baby, fuckin' perfect."

Your nails dig into his thighs for balance, your knees slipping slightly against wet tile, but you don't stop. You want all of him, need to feel him hit the back of your throat again and again until your eyes stream and your pussy drips. Your moan vibrates around him, and Jason's head drops back against the wall with a sharp curse, fingers tightening until your scalp stings.

"Holy fuck, you love this, don't you?" he growls, looking down at you with wild eyes, water running down his chest. "Love gettin' all sloppy and fucked out for me."

You hum around him, too full to answer, tears burning at the corners of your eyes as his cock slides deeper. Your throat spasms around him, gagging again, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin to your tits, mixing with the water like you're just a mess made for him.

Jason moans, a real, broken sound you almost never hear—low and desperate, like the feel of your throat wrapped tight around him is enough to unravel every last shred of control. And fuck, that sound alone makes your pussy ache, slick dripping down your thighs in hot, needy trails.

"You're gonna make me fuckin' lose it," he grits out, voice rough and thin. "You feel that, baby? Feel how hard I am for you?"

You moan again, louder this time, hips shifting like you're searching for friction, desperate to grind against something. Jason's fingers stroke your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, gathering up the spit that's spilled there, and when you glance up at him—all wide, tear bright eyes and swollen lips—his cock twitches hard.

"Fuck, you're so pretty like this," he mutters, voice all low heat and reverence. "My pretty girl... on her knees, lettin' me fuck her throat like the greedy little thing she is."

He thrusts a little deeper, slow but deliberate, and you choke again, body shuddering, tears finally spilling over. But you hold still, nails digging into his thighs, moaning around him like you love the struggle, like you love knowing you're the only one who can make him fall apart like this.

Jason swears under his breath, something low and filthy, and you swear his hips tremble like he's fighting not to lose it right there. He pulls back with a wet pop, his cock slipping from your throat, leaving you coughing softly, spit clinging to your lips and chin, drooling down your neck in glossy trails.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, gathering the mess you made, and the way he looks at you—like you're the filthiest, prettiest little thing he's ever seen—makes your thighs squeeze together, your pussy pulsing helplessly.

"Breathe, baby," he rasps, voice raw with need, like he's the one who just had his throat fucked, not you. "Did so good for me. Fuckin' perfect."

You take a shaky breath, chest rising and falling fast, before you flash him that wicked little smile, all slicked with spit and swollen, and you tilt your head, tongue flicking out to lick the tip of his cock.

"Not done yet, Jay," you whisper, voice hoarse from all the choking.

Jason groans, head falling back against the tile as his fingers twitch in your hair, trying not to yank too hard because fuck, you're gonna ruin him. Your throat is already raw from how deep he's been, but that wicked little smile you give him says you don't care.

Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, slick with spit and precum, and you stroke him slow, dragging your thumb over the thick vein that runs along the underside. His hips twitch, a barely there thrust that he immediately stops, like he's trying to be good, trying not to shove himself right back down your throat.

But then you press a kiss to his flushed tip, then another, before dragging your tongue over the slit, tasting him—salty and thick, all Jason—and you hum in approval, sending a shudder through his entire body.

"Shit," he hisses through clenched teeth, his grip in your hair tightening.

His thighs flex, like he wants to spread them wider, give you more room, but he's already backed against the shower wall, nowhere else to go but into your mouth.

And you want him there.

You tilt your head and take him in again, slow at first, sucking him down inch by inch until your lips stretch wide around the thickest part of his cock. Your free hand slides up, resting against his lower stomach for balance as you start to move, bobbing your head, tongue dragging along the underside, tracing every ridge and vein.

He groans low, almost desperate, his breathing ragged as he watches you. "Fuckin' hell, baby—"

And then you take him deeper.

You breathe through your nose and sink down, letting him slide past your tongue, into your throat, until your lips are pressed right against the base. His dick twitches inside your mouth, hot and pulsing, stretching you open in a way that has your pussy clenching around nothing.

Jason curses, head snapping forward to look down at you, his pupils blown wide. "Jesus—" His jaw goes slack as you swallow around him, muscles flexing around the thick length in your throat, and he groans deep, guttural, something torn straight from his chest. "Goddamn it, baby—"

You moan, the vibrations making him jerk, his fingers tangling in your hair as he fights the urge to fuck into your mouth. But you want him to. You need him to.

So you pull back just enough to breathe, spit slicking your lips, his cock shiny and wet from your mouth. You blink up at him, all pretty, wrecked eyes, and whisper, hoarse but teasing, "C'mon, Jay. Give it to me."

His restraint snaps. He cups the back of your head and pushes back in, slow at first, just to watch your lips stretch around him again, just to hear that sweet little gag when he hits the back of your throat. Then he does it again. And again.

Fucking your mouth with slow, deep thrusts, his dick hot and heavy on your tongue, your jaw aching, your throat stretched wide to take him. Spit drips down your chin, strings of it connecting your lips to his cock every time he pulls back, only to snap when he shoves in again.

"Fuck, baby—look at you." His voice is hoarse, full of raw need as he watches you swallow him down like you were made for it. "Takin' me so fuckin' good—my perfect girl, so fuckin' greedy—"

You moan in response, your fingers digging into his flexing thighs for balance, your eyes locked onto his as you let him use your mouth just the way he likes. It's filthy, messy, raw, the wet, slick sounds of your mouth working him filling the steamy bathroom, and when his abs tighten, his breathing turning ragged, you know he's close.

But not yet.

You pull off of him with a gasp, a string of spit still connecting your lips to his cock, and you tilt your head back, mouth open, tongue out, voice wrecked as you murmur, "Cum on my tongue, Jay."

His moan is broken as his cock jerks in your grip, his fingers twitching like he wants to grab your face and wreck you all over again. Instead, he lets you set the pace, his back pressing to the shower wall as you stroke him slow and deliberate, your slick hand working over his cock, all the way from the base to the leaking tip.

"Shit, baby, fuck," he mutters, head thunking back against the tile. "You're gonna—fuckin' hell—gonna make me blow just like that, lookin' at me with that dirty little smile."

You keep your eyes locked on his, wide and dark and utterly shameless, your tongue peeking out like an invitation. And when he curses again, hips bucking into your grip, you pull him right to the edge of your mouth—lips parted, tongue out, waiting, just like his fucking dream girl.

"Gonna cum for me, Jay?" you whisper, all soft and sweet, hand twisting at the head of his cock, smearing precum all over your tongue.

His whole body tenses, abs flexing hard, his dick jerking in your hand as his breath stutters out in a ragged groan. "Fuck, baby, fuck—gonna cum—shit—"

It hits fast and messy, the first thick spurt of cum painting your tongue, hot and salty and so much of it. His cock throbs in your grip, pulsing with every ragged heartbeat, more cum spilling over your tongue, dripping down your lip in messy streaks. Jason watches, jaw slack, eyes heavy-lidded with pure wrecked hunger, like the sight of his cum all over your tongue could send him spiraling right into a second orgasm.

"Fuckin' beautiful," he mutters, voice rough and almost reverent.

You tilt your head back, sticking your tongue out just enough to show him, his cum glistening on your tongue, a filthy little pool of him. His fingers cradle your jaw, thumb tugging at your bottom lip as he groans, low and guttural, like the sight alone is enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

"Swallow, baby," he whispers, dark and sweet all at once. "C'mon, swallow my cum like the perfect little thing you are."

You obey without hesitation, tongue curling back as you swallow every drop, throat working around it. Then you open your mouth again, all pretty and empty, just to show him you took it all, and he swears under his breath, dragging you up onto your feet so fast your head spins.

Jason pulls you up, kissing you hard and deep, not even caring that you still taste like him. His hand cradles the back of your head, fingers tangling into your wet hair as his tongue slides over yours, messy and hungry, all low moans and deep groans vibrating against your lips.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you flush to him, his cock still heavy and slick between you, smearing precum against your belly as the two of you kiss like neither of you is fully in control anymore.

"Fuck, baby," he mutters against your mouth, thumb tracing your jaw, "gonna taste you, wanna fuckin' drown in that sweet pussy."

Before you can respond, Jason sinks to his knees right there in the shower, water dripping off his hair, running in rivulets down his broad shoulders and sculpted chest. His hands grip the backs of your thighs, urging you to spread them just enough for him to fit between, and then he throws one of your legs over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, opening you up for his hungry mouth.

"Goddamn," he mutters, mouth so close to your slick cunt that you can feel his breath ghosting over your clit, "this fuckin' pussy, baby."

And then he's on you, tongue flat and wide, dragging up your slit, slow and filthy, groaning like the taste of you just knocked the air out of his chest. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue flicks lower, dipping right into your entrance, fucking you open with deep, sloppy strokes.

You cry out, hand flying to his hair, fingers fisting in the dark strands as you try to keep yourself steady, but it's useless. His tongue is relentless, devouring you like he's starving.

You try to close your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue dragging against your sensitive walls, but Jason's grip tightens, holding you open just for him.

"Uh-uh," he mutters, voice muffled against your cunt, "stay open for me, baby, let me see how fuckin' wet you are."

His tongue moves back up to your clit, circling it in slow, torturous patterns before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard, and you damn near scream, hips jerking into his face.

"Jason, fuck—oh my God—"

He hums against your clit, tongue flicking faster, and the vibration sends shivers all through you, your knees threatening to buckle. Then you feel his fingers—one thick finger sliding into your soaked pussy, sinking all the way down to the knuckle, curling just right, pressing against that spot that makes your vision go white.

"So fuckin' tight, baby," he mutters, adding a second finger without warning, your walls fluttering around him. "Gonna stretch you open nice and good for me."

He fucks you with his fingers, slow at first, dragging them out until you're whining, desperate, then slamming them back in, curling every time, fucking you open while his tongue stays glued to your clit. The combination is too much, the perfect rhythm, his fingers filling you just right while his tongue flicks and circles and sucks, and you can feel your orgasm building too fast, that sweet heat curling in your belly like a molten knot about to snap.

"Jason—gonna—fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Yeah, baby, cum for me," he groans, fingers speeding up, tongue licking harder.

And you do—you cum hard, soaking his fingers, your cunt fluttering around them as your clit throbs under his tongue. Your whole body shudders, thighs shaking so hard Jason has to hold you up, his free hand gripping your ass, keeping you steady while he licks you through it, sucking every last drop of your wetness onto his tongue like he can't bear to waste a single drop.

"Fuckin' beautiful," he mutters, lips shiny with you, kissing your trembling inner thigh, fingers still buried deep inside your pulsing cunt. "Always so fuckin' pretty when you cum for me."

You're still trembling when you tug at Jason's hair, urging him up from his knees, and he follows without hesitation, his broad frame rising above you, all wet skin and slick muscles and that hungry look in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. You crash your mouth onto his the second he's close enough, kissing him messy and wet, tasting yourself on his tongue as he groans into you.

There's no finesse, just raw, desperate hunger, teeth knocking together, tongues tangling, water running between you while his hands slide down to grip your hips, pulling you flush to his still achingly hard dick.

"Fuck me," you murmur against his mouth, breathless, lips swollen, and Jason gasps like the air got punched out of his lungs, eyes going dark with that primal heat you know so well.

"C'mere, pretty girl," he rasps, guiding you toward the built in shower bench, and really, bless whoever designed this apartment.

Jason grabs a folded towel from the shelf, laying it over the bench to cushion your knees, always thinking of you even when his mind is spinning off its axis with lust.

"Bend over for me," he says, voice low and rough, and you don't need to be told twice.

You turn, hands bracing against the tiles as you arch your back, sticking your ass out for him, knowing damn well how much he loves the view.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he groans behind you, big hands grabbing your ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. "This fuckin' pussy, always so goddamn pretty."

He spreads you open with his thumbs, watching the way your slick glistens under the water, watching how your hole clenches, already desperate to be filled.

"You're gonna fuckin' ruin me, baby," he mutters, more to himself than to you, voice full of awe and heat and hunger.

And God, his thoughts are a fucking mess—his body aches, every muscle burning from tonight's patrol, but none of it matters. Not when you're like this, bent over and dripping for him, all soft skin and curves and that sweet little arch of your back, presenting yourself like the perfect gift.

He feels wrecked, destroyed by how much he wants you, like his skin might split open if he doesn't get inside you right now. You're his remedy, his fucking salvation, and the only way to ease the tension coiled inside him is to bury himself so deep in you that he forgets why his knuckles are bruised in the first place.

He fists his dick, pumping it slow, spreading the slick of his precum along his shaft, hissing between his teeth because he's so fucking sensitive already.

"Goddamn, baby," he mutters, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, teasing your swollen clit just to make you whimper. "You're so fuckin' wet. This all for me, huh?"

"All for you," you breathe, pressing back into him, desperate for more, for all of him.

He slides the tip just barely inside, groaning at the way your tight heat immediately tries to suck him in, and fuck, you'll never get used to this—to the stretch, the way his cock splits you open every single time. He's so thick, so perfect, and it burns just a little, but it's the best fucking burn, the kind that leaves you dizzy and drooling, the kind that makes your toes curl because you know what's coming, you know how good it's gonna be.

No one's ever fucked you like Jason does, no one's ever filled you like this, made you ache and crave and beg, and you're already gone, already clenching around nothing, desperate to have him deeper.

"Jay, please," you whimper, and that's all it takes for him to sink in, slow but unrelenting, inch by thick inch until his hips are flush to your ass, until you're stuffed full, stretched wide, pussy fluttering around him.

"Fuckin' perfect," he groans, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. "Always so fuckin' perfect for me, baby."

Jason stays still for a moment, letting you adjust, his big hands smoothing over your hips and up your spine, grounding you in his touch. You're stretched so wide around him it's almost too much—almost—but your pussy flutters around his dick like you're trying to pull him in even deeper. Your knees are already weak, breath hitching in your throat as the dull ache blooms into molten pleasure, and then, he moves.

A slow, careful pull back, his cock dragging against every nerve inside you, so thick you can feel every ridge and vein, and then he sinks back in, deeper this time, hips meeting the curve of your ass with a soft, wet slap. It makes you whimper, the sound high and needy, and Jason's thumbs stroke soothing circles into your skin, his voice low and tender.

"Shhh, pretty girl," he murmurs, eyes fixed on where his cock disappears inside you, mesmerized. "You're takin' me so good, baby. Look at this perfect fuckin' pussy, stretchin' just for me."

His gaze is glued to the way your slick coats his cock, creamy arousal clinging to him every time he pulls back, webbing between your thighs. "Goddamn," he groans, almost to himself, dragging his fingers down to spread you open just a little more so he can see even better. "You're so fuckin' wet. You missed me this much, huh?"

"Yes," you breathe, voice soft and sweet, trembling around the edges as he sinks in again, slow and deep.

And Jason? Jason's brain is barely functional at this point. All he can think about is how warm and tight you are, how your walls squeeze him like a fucking vice every time he moves. He's aching all over, bruised knuckles and sore muscles, but none of that matters when he's buried inside you.

This is his peace, his salvation, and there's nothing in the whole goddamn world that feels better than this. Your soft little moans, the way you arch your back for him, the way you take him so fucking deep—it's enough to make him lose his goddamn mind.

He fucks you slow, deep, each thrust deliberate, giving you every inch, savoring the way your cunt stretches around him, how your walls welcome him like you were made just for him. The slick sounds of your soaked pussy echo through the shower, mixing with the gentle slap of his hips against your ass, obscene and filthy and so fucking good.

Your thoughts are a mess—all you can think about is him, how deep he is, how good he fills you. The stretch burns just a little, but it's the kind of burn you crave, the kind that leaves you shaking and desperate for more.

No one's ever fucked you like this, like they're worshiping you and ruining you at the same time. Jason's hands are so big on your skin, holding you steady like you're fragile and precious, even though he's splitting you open with every slow thrust.

"Jay," you whimper, head dropping between your arms, face hot, body trembling. "Feels so good—"

"I know, baby," he murmurs, leaning over you, his chest flush to your back, lips brushing your ear. "Love this pussy so much. My good girl. Always so fuckin' good for me."

He kisses the back of your neck, slow thrusts never faltering, and you shiver at the feel of his lips and the filthy praise dripping from his tongue. Your pussy clenches around him, pulling him deeper, and he groans, low and broken.

"Fuck," he mutters, barely holding on, "You're gonna kill me, baby."

Jason's grip tightens on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make you feel it, to remind you he's there, holding you steady as he picks up the pace. His thrusts grow just a little faster, a little rougher, each stroke punching soft, breathy moans from your lips.

And fuck, it's everything. His dick feels so good inside you, stretching you just right, dragging against every sensitive spot with every deep roll of his hips. The veins, the ridges, you can feel them all, rubbing against your walls, splitting you open over and over again.

And Jason—Jason's brain is fried. Every squeeze of your pussy around his dick makes his stomach clench, his jaw tighten. You're so fucking tight, so warm, so wet, each stroke is like heaven and hell at the same time. The soft, filthy sounds of your pussy sucking him in are enough to make his abs tense, his muscles coil.

"Shit," he rasps, voice wrecked, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fucks into you, his hips snapping forward just a little harder, enough to make you whimper. "You're fuckin' squeezin' me so goddamn good, baby. Feels so fuckin' good—"

And then—his hand. Big, warm, calloused fingers sliding down between your thighs, finding your swollen clit with ease. The moment he touches it, a sharp little gasp rips from your lips, your legs trembling, and Jason groans against your skin, pressing messy, open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck.

"Yeah, you like that, huh?" His voice is pure sin, thick with lust, dripping with heat. "Like havin' me buried deep in this pretty little pussy while I play with your clit?"

His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles, rubbing soft and steady, teasing you, making your cunt throb around his cock. The pressure is perfect, just enough to make your whole body tighten, your breath hitch.

"Jay—"

Your voice is high, needy, desperate, and Jason feels it, the way you're spiraling, the way your walls start fluttering around him.

"That's it, baby," he mutters, rolling your clit a little faster now, keeping the pressure steady, his thrusts still deep and strong. "C'mon, pretty girl, wanna feel this pussy fuckin' cum on my dick."

And fuck, you're so close. Your whole body tenses, your toes curling, your arms shaking as the pleasure builds, hot and fucking overwhelming. His cock fills you so good, the stretch, the drag, the way he works your clit—it's all too much, too good, and then, you shatter.

A high, broken moan leaves your lips as your orgasm hits, crashing over you in thick, pulsing waves. Your pussy clenches around his cock, gripping him tight, rippling around him, milking him as your whole body shakes. Your head drops forward, forehead pressed against the cool tile, breath stolen from your lungs.

Jason groans, deep and wrecked, feeling every flutter of your walls, every wet squeeze of your cunt around his cock. It's almost too much, the way you keep pulling him in, and he has to force himself not to cum right then and there, has to grip your hips tighter, anchoring himself.

"Fuck, baby," he growls, still rubbing your clit, helping you ride it out, dragging out every last pulse of pleasure. "That's my good girl—fuckin' squeezin' me so good, baby—"

Your legs nearly give out, and Jason feels it, catches you, wraps an arm around your waist and holds you up, still buried deep inside you, still pulsing, still aching.

Jason's still inside you, cock nestled deep in your soaked cunt, and you turn your head just enough, voice soft and hazy as you murmur, "Jay..."

His lips brush over your shoulder, warm and tender, a sweet contrast to the heavy stretch of his dick still buried in you.

"Yeah, baby?"

You hesitate for a second, just a little sheepish, then whisper, "I wanna sit on you."

Fuck. His dick twitches inside you, a sharp little pulse that makes your spent pussy clench in response, and Jason groans quietly, forehead pressing against your shoulder.

"Yeah? You wanna ride me, pretty girl?"

"Yeah..."

And who the fuck is he to say no to that?

He pulls out slow, both of you hissing softly at the wet, messy slide of his dick leaving your cunt. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the center of your back before helping you shift around, easing you off the bench.

But before either of you can move any further, you tug him down into a kiss, just because you need to.

It's slow and lazy, all warm tongues and soft lips, your mouth still tasting faintly like him, like salt and sweat and something purely Jason. His hands settle on your waist, thumbs stroking gently, and you're already squirming closer, knees a little shaky as you lean into him, deepening the kiss.

When you finally pull back, you're both panting softly, and you flash him that sweet, cheeky little smile before you push at his chest and say, "Sit."

He arches a brow, but there's nothing but pure heat in his gaze when he murmurs, "Yes ma'am."

He sits back, water streaming down over his broad shoulders, and you climb into his lap, knees bracketing his thick thighs. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers sliding into the damp hair at the nape, and you roll your hips slowly, grinding your swollen, slick pussy against his hard, heavy cock.

Jason's hands grab your ass immediately, fingers digging in, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. "Fuck, baby... look at you," he mutters, watching the way your puffy folds spread over the length of his dick, your clit catching on the head with every slow drag. "So fuckin' wet, you're leakin' all over me."

You moan softly, hips stuttering when he thrusts up just a little, the fat head of his cock catching perfectly against your sensitive clit.

The jolt of pleasure makes you cling to him tighter, biting your lip as you whisper, "Need you."

"Yeah, baby?" His voice is low and rough, all fucked out warmth. "Go on then. Take it."

And you do.

Your hand wraps around his dick, guiding him to your entrance, and you both groan when the fat tip pushes inside, the stretch still just as dizzying as the first time. You sink down slowly, inch by inch, your cunt spreading to fit him again, walls hugging him so tight he swears he could feel your pulse.

Jason leans back against the cool tile, the contrast of heat and cold making his skin prickle. His muscles are aching, body worn from patrol, but none of that matters when you're sitting on his cock, dripping wet, your face all soft and flushed as you look at him like you need him just to breathe.

"God, baby," he groans, fingers digging into your hips, helping you ease down until you're fully seated, your thighs trembling slightly against his. "Fuckin' love watchin' you take my dick. Look so goddamn pretty stuffed full like this."

You cup his face, leaning in to kiss him again, slow and deep, tongues sliding together, tasting each other, your soft moans caught between his lips. His hands never leave your ass, gripping, kneading, helping you rock against him, grinding down so your clit rubs against the skin at the base of his cock.

It's filthy, wet sounds filling the steamy air, your slick coating his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin, the messy press of your tongues as you lose yourself in the kiss. His cock pulses deep inside you, so thick, so fucking full, and you already know that you're not gonna last long. Neither is he.

But that's the best part.

Your hands brace against his broad shoulders, nails digging into the thick muscle as you start to move, lifting your hips just enough before sinking back down, grinding in his lap when he's buried all the way inside.

Jason groans, a deep, wrecked sound, and his fingers tighten on your ass, gripping hard, as if he can barely handle how fucking good you feel around him. Your tits press against his chest with every slow, wet slide down his cock, the slick heat of your cunt clenching around him, making his breath hitch.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, lips brushing over your jaw. "You're so goddamn tight—feel like you're tryna choke my dick."

You whimper at his words, the praise making you throb around him. Your pace quickens, thighs trembling as you bounce on his cock, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the steamy shower. Every time you take him to the hilt, you roll your hips, grinding down just right, making him groan beneath you.

Jason's teeth catch your bottom lip, tugging before he mutters, "Fuck, look at you—so needy for it, huh? Bouncin' on my dick like a desperate little thing."

You are desperate. Every slow, deep thrust of his cock makes you shiver, makes your pussy clench, makes heat coil tight in your belly. You can barely think, barely breathe—there's only Jason, his thick hands gripping your ass, his rough voice in your ear, his dick stretching you open over and over again.

Your moans turn breathy, high-pitched, every gasp punched from your throat as your thighs start to burn, but you don't stop. You can't. Not when Jason's looking at you like that, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, sweat beading along his temples despite the warm spray of the shower.

"Fuck, Jay," you moan, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses against his jaw, his throat. "Feels so good—I love your dick."

"Yeah?" His voice is a low growl, hands sliding up your back, holding you close as he thrusts up into you, meeting your movements. The new angle makes you cry out, burying your face against his neck as he fucks up into your dripping pussy, harder, deeper. "Love takin' my dick, huh, pretty girl? Love gettin' stretched open like this?"

You nod frantically, unable to do anything but whimper and take it, the slap of his thighs against your ass getting filthier, wetter, each bounce sending little shivers through your overstimulated body. Your clit drags against his lower abs, sparking white-hot pleasure every time you grind down, making your legs shake around him.

He growls against your ear, his breath hot, voice rough. "Shit, baby—you're fuckin' squeezin' me so tight—gonna make me lose my goddamn mind."

Your fingers tangle in his damp hair, tugging slightly as your lips brush against his, voice barely above a whisper. "Then lose it."

Jason groans into your mouth as you pick up the pace, fucking yourself down onto his cock harder, faster, each wet, messy bounce making his grip on your ass tighten. The steam in the shower is thick, curling around both of you, heat clinging to your skin as the slap of your bodies echoes in the tiled space.

You're whimpering, moaning, head tipping back as you ride him, thighs burning, overstimulated and aching but too fucking needy to stop. His cock feels too good—thick and deep, stretching you open, hitting that spot inside you that makes you whine every single time.

Jason's hands move, one gripping your hip, guiding your movements as the other slides up, fingers curling around the back of your neck, tugging you until your foreheads touch. His breath is hot, uneven, every exhale heavy as his mouth brushes yours, his words breaking apart with each thrust up into you.

"Fuck, baby—just like that—" His voice is a growl, all low and rough, shaking slightly as he fucks up into you. "God, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum—you feel so fuckin' good—"

Your pussy tightens at his words, a shuddering moan spilling from your lips as you brace your hands against his chest, moving even faster, grinding harder, the wet drag of his dick inside you making you dizzy.

"I'm close," you gasp, mouth brushing his, hands fisting in his damp hair as his own grip tightens on your hips. "Jason—fuck, I'm—"

"I know, baby," he rasps, and suddenly, he snaps his hips up into you, thrusting hard, dragging a gasping, wrecked sound from your throat. "C'mon, cum for me. Wanna feel you—"

And that's all it takes.

Pleasure slams into you, intense and overwhelming, your whole body shuddering as your pussy clenches tight around him. It's too much, too good, a sobbing cry ripping from your lips as your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of raw, blinding pleasure.

Your walls flutter around his cock, squeezing him like you're trying to pull him deeper, and Jason feels it. He groans against your throat, voice wrecked and shaking, like you're undoing him right alongside yourself.

"Jesus fuck," he grits out, but he doesn't stop.

If anything, he fucks you harder.

His hips snap up in fast, brutal thrusts, thick cock driving into you again and again, forcing out these soft, desperate little whimpers as overstimulation starts to creep in. You twitch against him, body trembling, but he just grins, biting down on your neck like he likes how fucked out you're getting.

"Sensitive, baby?" His voice is all teasing, but there's something dark underneath, something hungry.

His fingers dig into your hips, keeping you pinned, making sure you take it. His cock drags against your swollen, overstimulated walls, pushing you closer and closer to that sharp, unbearable edge again. He can feel it, the way your cunt flutters around him, the way you're already slipping into another orgasm before you can even catch your breath.

"Yeah," he groans, rough and deep, pressing a messy, open mouthed kiss to your jaw. "That's my girl."

Jason doesn't let up. Not even for a second. His hands grip your hips, holding you down as he fucks into you, hard and deep, each wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the shower.

You're still trembling from your last orgasm, body twitching with every thick drag of his cock, but he just grins. Watching you, watching the way your tits bounce, watching the way your pretty little cunt stretches around him, all wet and swollen and so fucking perfect.

"Gonna give me another one," he murmurs, rough and dark, like it's not even a question. Like it's just fact.

You try to say something—anything—but all that comes out is a breathless whimper, because fuck, every time he thrusts up, your clit drags against his skin, the friction hot and slick and just right. The pressure builds too fast, too intense, your body already wound up so tight you feel like you might snap.

Jason feels it, the way your walls squeeze around him, the way your thighs start to shake. He groans, dropping his head to your throat, teeth grazing over sensitive skin.

"Yeah, there it is," he rasps, voice thick with satisfaction. "Fuck, you get so tight when you're close. You gonna cum for me again, baby? Gonna let me feel you squeeze my dick all over again?"

And then he grinds up into you, slow and deep, making sure your clit drags right against him, making sure you feel every inch of him rubbing you just right. It's too much, sharp and unbearable, your pussy clenching around him as the orgasm slams into you, so hard and overwhelming you swear you stop breathing for a second.

Jason groans, almost pained, his grip on you tightening as he forces himself to keep fucking you through it, his cock dragging against your overstimulated walls with each deep, filthy thrust.

"There we go," he grits out, watching the way you shudder, the way your body reacts to him. "That's my good fuckin' girl."

He's so close it's unbearable. Every thrust has his cock throbbing, sensitive to the point of pain, but he can't stop. Can't stop chasing that high, can't stop fucking into you, hips snapping up in desperate, stuttering thrusts as he buries himself as deep as he can go.

And you? You meet him halfway, taking every inch, riding him through it, moaning as his cock grinds right against your swollen, overstimulated walls. You're just as desperate as he is, clenching down around him, pulling him deeper, body made for him, and fuck, Jason's brain short circuits.

"Jesus fuck, baby," he groans, voice wrecked, forehead pressing against yours like he's struggling to hold himself together.

But he isn't. Not really. Not when your pretty little pussy is milking his cock, not when you're squeezing him so tight he can feel every flutter, every slick, wet drag of your walls around him.

He needs it. Needs to cum. Needs to fill you up. Needs to fucking ruin you.

Until he grits out your name through clenched teeth, his cock throbbing inside you as he cums, a choked, broken groan rumbling in his chest as he spills inside you, thick and hot, filling you up as his hips jerk up into yours. He's moaning into your mouth as he pulls you in for a kiss, soft and lazy, tongues sliding together as he pumps you full, hot ropes of cum flooding your tight, clenching pussy.

"Fuck, baby—" he mutters, hips stuttering, because your pussy is gripping him, sucking him in so tight, so fucking wet as you tremble in his lap.

Your lips brush against his, softer, lazy and slow, little whimpers still spilling from your throat as he keeps fucking into you, each thrust pushing his cum deeper, until his pace stutters and he finally still.

The bathroom is all foggy, warm steam wrapping around both of you as you come down slowly, still tangled together, his dick still buried inside your messy, puffy cunt. His hands slide up your back, holding you close as you press kisses to his jaw, his neck, still catching your breath, still feeling fucked out and hazy and warm.

He exhales, tilting his head slightly as his lips brush the top of your head, his fingers splayed against your back, keeping you tucked close.

"You okay, baby?"

"Mmhmm," you hum softly, arms wrapping around him, hugging him tight, but not tight enough to hurt his bruises.

Jason sighs, low and warm, his hands smoothing up your back, keeping you close, his body still loose, relaxed from his orgasm. The heat of the shower clings to both of you, water still running, steam curling around you in thick ribbons, sealing you into this little moment—this quiet, safe moment.

But it doesn't last.

Because your throat feels tight, your chest aching, a little sniffle slipping out before you can stop it. You squeeze your eyes shut, fuck, you don't want to cry, not now, but...

You love him. You love him so much it hurts.

And you know, you know how important he is to Gotham. You know the good he does. But sometimes, when you see him like this, when you see the bruises blooming across his body, when you think about what could have happened, you wish he'd just stop.

The thought of losing him scares you. It grips your chest in a tight, suffocating hold, twists your stomach, makes your pulse jump into your throat. You need him. You can't imagine waking up without him. You can't imagine getting a call. You can't.

Jason feels your shoulders tremble, hears the soft, shaky sniffle you try to smother against his neck. His stomach twists, his heart aches, and he holds you tighter, even as his own throat goes tight, even as something in his chest breaks.

He hates this. He hates making you feel like this.

And sometimes—when he sees the way you look at him, eyes big and wet and scared—he wonders if he should've never gotten into a relationship with you at all.

Not because he doesn't love you. God, no.

But because he knows how hard this is for you. He knows how much it hurts you. And tonight? Tonight isn't even bad.

But one day—one day it will be. One day, he won't just come home with bruises. One day, he might not come home at all.

And fuck, if that ever happened...

Jason presses his lips to the side of your head, closing his eyes. He doesn't know what the fuck he'd do.

"Hey, shhh, shhh," he soothes, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. It's not dismissive, not even close. He just wants to calm you down, to ease the weight pressing against your ribs. "C'mon, baby, don't cry. You're gonna make me look like a real asshole."

He tries to joke, his voice light, teasing, because sometimes that works. Sometimes, he can get you to roll your eyes, to huff a laugh, to shake your head and kiss him instead.

But when you pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes red, your cheeks wet with tears that he put there, and his throat closes up, and the joke dies on his tongue.

Because Jason Todd might be a fucking idiot, but he's not that insensitive.

His chest aches as he cups your face, brushing his thumbs over your damp cheeks, his lips following the path of your tears, kissing them away one by one.

His nose brushes against yours, warm and soft, and your lashes flutter, another sniffle slipping from your lips as you murmur, "I'm sorry."

Jason shakes his head, his hands still cradling your face, his lips pressing to the corner of your mouth, lingering there for a beat.

"Nah, doll," he says softly, voice low and gentle. "It's okay. I know."

You nod, a little sheepish, because you know he doesn't like seeing you like this. And truth be told? You hate crying in front of him like this. You try not to. Because even if Jason never says it out loud, even if he'd rather die than admit it, you know it hurts him.

You see it in his eyes every single time. And if you can't handle seeing him like this, then you know he feels the same way about you.

Jason exhales softly, his forehead still pressed to yours, and his voice is softer when he murmurs, "I love you, pretty girl. I'll always come back, yeah?"

Your chest tightens, your lips parting, but you don't say anything, even though you want to, even though every part of you wants to argue, wants to tell him he doesn't know that. Because Gotham is cruel, because he's already died once, because one night, one mistake, one bad fucking second, and he might be gone.

But Jason? Jason is not a liar. Not with you. Never with you.

So you swallow back the lump in your throat, push those thoughts away, and nod again, voice barely above a whisper as you murmur, "I love you too, baby. So much."

And when Jason smiles, soft and tender, pressing another kiss to your lips before murmuring, "I know."

Your chest still aches, but you let yourself believe him. Jason exhales softly, pressing another kiss to your lips before murmuring, "C'mon, let's finish in here, yeah? Otherwise, your pretty little toes will get all wrinkled."

A laugh bursts from your lips, breaking the last of the tension in your chest, and you shake your head with a sniffly little giggle. "My toes?"

"Yes, yours," Jason says, grinning as he runs his hands down your back, easing you off his lap. "I don't make the rules, baby. I just enforce them."

You roll your eyes, but you let him help you, gasping softly as his dick slips free, thick and spent, his cum painting his own skin as it drips from your pussy, streaking down your thighs. And when he glances down, catching sight of it, then catches the way your cheeks turn bright pink, and he barks out a laugh.

"Still shy, huh?" His voice is teasing, but his eyes are soft, warm, adoring as he reaches up to cup your cheek. He grins as he rubs his thumb against the heat of your blush. "Almost two years, baby. And you still get all flustered."

You groan, slapping a hand over your face, and Jason laughs again, tucking you against his side as he reaches for the showerhead to rinse you both off. He washes away the remnants of slick and sweat and cum, running warm, soothing hands over your skin, making sure you're comfortable before finally shutting off the water.

He grabs a towel and wraps it around you, rubbing it over your damp skin before gently squeezing the excess water from your hair. You could dry it properly, but honestly? You're so blissed out, and your limbs feel heavy.

Jason dries himself off quickly before helping you into a pair of panties and one of his shirts, the fabric warm and soft against your skin.

Then he kneels, pulling fuzzy socks over your feet, shaking his head as he mutters, "Your feet are always cold."

You grin, nudging his chest lightly with your toes. "That's why you're here. To warm them up."

He huffs out a laugh, tugging on a pair of sweats before standing. "Oh, so I'm just a personal heater, huh?"

"Mhmm," you smile sweetly, looping your arms around his neck." That, and my personal bodyguard, my punching bag, my—"

Jason kisses you before you can keep going, swallowing the rest of your words with a slow, lingering brush of his lips. You hum into it, melting into him before he pulls away, squeezing your hip gently.

"Come on," you murmur, taking his hand, guiding him back toward the living room. "Sit with me."

Jason chuckles, but follows easily, letting you tug him along. "Aren't you tired, baby?"

You shake your head, and Jason sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright," he relents, squeezing your fingers. "I'll make some tea for your throat, okay?"

You nod, but when he tries to step away, you follow, staying close, pressing yourself against his side. Jason doesn't say anything, just kisses the top of your head, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek as he leads you into the kitchen. He pulls out a chair, urging you to sit before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Two seconds, baby."

He makes the tea quickly, moving through the familiar motions with ease, filling the quiet with soft clinks of mugs and teaspoons. When it's done, he sets it in front of you, crouching beside your chair as you take a careful sip.

"Good?" he murmurs.

You nod, your fingers curling in his hair as you take another sip, humming softly when his hand rubs up and down your thigh, warm and solid. Neither of you sleeps until the early hours of the morning.

You just exist in the quiet together, curled up on the couch, snuggled as close as possible, warm and drowsy and safe in the dim glow of the living room lamp.

He lets you cling to him, lets you need him, lets himself need you just as much.

You talk about nothing and everything—lazy conversations and soft laughter and sleepy, lingering kisses pressed to cheeks and lips and jaw between bites of snacks.

At some point, your words start to slur, your voice growing soft and drowsy, and Jason knows you're fighting it, but you don't stand a chance. Not when you're warm and full and safe, wrapped up in his arms like you belong there.

Jason shifts, scooping you up easily, carrying you toward the bedroom. "Sleep, baby," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've got you."

And you do.

don't worry, we're still close — tsukishima k.

third yr tsukishima k. x third yr fem!reader│word count: 2.4k

synopsis: Tsukishima just wants to spend time with his girlfriend, but after a brutal volleyball match, he feels sleepy.

cw/tags: fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship

The moment they stepped through the front door, Tsukishima was already tugging yn’s wrist, muttering something about how she could talk to his mom later. Yn had barely managed a polite smile in his mother’s direction before she was being guided up the stairs, past the familiar picture frames and the smell of dinner just starting.

No more delays. He’d waited all week for this.

“Kei! Yn-chan should stay for dinner!” his mom called from below.

“She hears you,” Tsukishima replied over his shoulder, too tired to make it sound anything but clipped.

Yn answered sweetly anyway, her voice echoing back downstairs as Tsukishima opened his bedroom door. He let go of her to dump his bag beside the desk, kicked off his shoes, and dropped face-first onto the bed with a soft grunt.

Everything hurt. Legs, back, brain. Volleyball matches this deep into the season were nothing short of brutal. But even now, he could feel the tug in his chest more than anywhere else—because yn was still by the door, and he wasn’t spending time with her.

It had been nearly two months since they’d last properly hung out. They’d both been swallowed up by their clubs and the looming pressure of college entrance exams, barely managing hallway greetings and late-night texts. That’s why, when she called him last week to say she was coming to his game, he wasted no time asking her out for a movie date afterward.

He cracked an eye open, the sound of her voice still lingering as she spoke to his mother. The golden light from the setting sun caught in her hair, painting her skin in this warm, glowing filter that made his already-tired heart squeeze.

She looked right at home standing in his doorway. And she was still kind enough to reply properly, to make his mom smile. He couldn’t stand how much he liked that.

“Close the door,” he mumbled into the sheets. “She’ll start asking about the game and I’ll lose you for an hour.”

Yn chuckled, finally closing the door before padding over to his bed. “It’s because you never fill her in.” The mattress dipped under her weight as she sat beside him and lightly poked his cheek. “You should be careful, you know. Soon, I’ll be the favorite child.”

“Pretty sure she already likes you more than me and Nii-chan,” Tsukishima sighed. His hand caught hers—intending to push it away, maybe—but instead, he pulled it gently to his cheek.

“Ooh, imagine if she adopts me,” yn teased, eyes sparkling. “I’d be your sister.”

Tsukishima jolted upright, pinching her waist with a scowl. “Don’t even joke about that. It’s gross.”

She shrieked with laughter, swatting at him as his hand chased her across the bed, his exhaustion forgotten for just a moment. She was always infuriating with her dumb jokes.

But it was nice to hear them again instead of just reading them through texts.

Eventually, they both collapsed into the mattress, the energy slowly draining out of their laughter, leaving behind a comfortable silence. Yn laid beside him, their shoulders just barely touching, her hand still in his.

A lazy feeling settled in, blending nicely with the soft hum of life downstairs and the distant clatter of kitchenware. Tsukishima let his eyes fall shut again.

They should be watching something right now.

“Give me five minutes,” he muttered, voice muffled by the pillow. “I’ll set up my laptop.”

He felt her shift beside him. “Are you sure?” she asked softly. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not,” he replied flatly, eyes still closed.

“Kei.”

There was a different note in her voice this time. Not teasing. Concerned.

He opened one eye just enough to see her watching him. Her brows creased, lips pressed together in a way that made him look away almost instantly.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled.

“You don’t have to push yourself, you know,” she said gently. “I came to see you. We can just hang out. Or nap if you want.”

He hated how his heart fluttered at that.

Tsukishima rolled onto his back with a groan, one arm flopping over his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to come all the way here so I could nap.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she pressed on. “I’d just... rather you rest if you need to.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, very quietly, he mumbled, “I missed you.”

He felt her fingers twitch against his, a tiny, startled reflex.

Tsukishima kept his arm over his eyes, his voice low and gruff. “So, no. I’m not gonna fall asleep. I want to spend time with you.”

The honesty hung between them, vulnerable and heavy in the sinking golden light. She leaned over and gently tugged his arm down until he was looking at her.

“I missed you too.”

Her eyes softened, full of quiet affection. She withdrew her hand from his and reached up, brushing a bit of hair from his forehead, fingertips featherlight.

“But I still don’t want you pushing yourself. There’s always next time, you know? You don’t have to cram all your energy into one night just for me.”

Tsukishima blinked down at her, her touch loosening the knot in his shoulders. But even that comfort turned on him, stirring the fears he’d worked so hard to keep quiet.

“That’s the thing,” he muttered, voice low. “I’m not so sure there is always a next time.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, then sat up slowly, not looking at her right away. His hands were folded in his lap, fingers fidgeting like they were trying to twist themselves.

“I know we said we’d make time, but we’re going to different colleges. You’ll have your own schedule. New people. New routines. And so will I.” His jaw tightened. “But even before that’s started, it already feels like I barely see you.”

Yn listened quietly, not interrupting, her eyes steady on him.

“And it’s not like I think we’ll fall apart or something,” he added quickly. “It’s just…” He trailed off again, searching for the right word to shape the fear he didn’t usually let himself acknowledge. “It’s stupid. I just—I don’t want to look back and realize I wasted the time we do have.”

There was a long pause. Then, he muttered under his breath, “Sorry. I’m not good at saying this crap.”

When he finally met her gaze again, yn’s face lit up with a tender, knowing smile.

“It’s not stupid,” she said, pushing herself to sit upright. “And it’s not crap.”

Tsukishima didn’t say anything, but she didn’t seem to expect him to. She went on, her voice dropping a little.

“I think about it too,” she admitted. “The distance. The changes. How fast everything is moving. There’ll be days when we’re too busy or too tired to call. Maybe even weeks.”

She leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “But Kei… I know us. I know that no matter how much time passes, when we do talk again, it’ll still be…”

Her hand found his again, fingers sliding between his, squeezing them. She paused, a small laugh slipping out.

“... you. Probably still messing up my hair instead of saying hi. Fixing the strap of my bag without saying anything. Pinching me when I make jokes, like earlier—ow, by the way.”

That earned a snort from Tsukishima.

“And me? Still making bad jokes on purpose. ‘Accidentally’ stepping on your shoes when you call me short. Pulling your hoodie strings just to annoy you. Trying to act all cute just to hear you say I am.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, but she didn’t let him deflect.

“That’s what I mean. It’s never ‘Oh, how have you been?’ with us. We don’t have to start over every time. We just… click back into place. Time doesn’t erase that. Distance doesn’t either.”

When Tsukishima finally spoke, his voice was smaller than usual. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Not confident,” she corrected. “I just know what we have. I trust it.”

He was quiet, his fingers tightening slightly around hers.

“You trust it?” he repeated, like he was trying to taste the weight of that.

“I trust you,” she said, pulling back to look at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You care more than you let on. And I know that if something matters to you, you don’t let go easily. And neither do I.”

That stopped him.

Because for the first time, all those uneasy thoughts didn’t sound like warnings. They just sounded like noise. And maybe this was the answer that he had been missing.

They didn’t have to see each other all the time to still matter to the other. It was never about being together. It was always about what they were to each other.

“… You're really annoying when you’re right,” he muttered, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Yn grinned, pretending to grab her phone. “Wait! Say that again. I need to record this.”

He huffed a laugh, finally leaning back into the pillows again. The fatigue crept in quicker this time now that the tight coil in his chest had finally loosened.

He looked over at her, eyes half-lidded. “I don’t think I can stay awake for a movie.”

She chuckled. “I know.” 

Her fingers brushed against his cheeks as she took off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand.

He yawned before he could reply, the last of his resistance unraveling. As he closed his eyes, he tugged her closer, wordlessly urging her to stay beside him.

“I’ll probably be out for a while,” he murmured.

“Mhm.”

“Wake me up… when it’s time for you to go. Okay?”

“Sure,” she whispered, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

And she would. But not until long after he drifted off, his breathing even, the golden light of evening slipping quietly into dusk.

Yn padded down the stairs quietly, the soft creak of the steps barely registering beneath the distant clatter of pans and the gentle bubbling of something simmering in the kitchen. The house smelled like miso and something savory being stir-fried, and her stomach gave a quiet, traitorous growl.

She rubbed her eyes and wandered in, still barefoot and slightly dazed from the warmth of Tsukishima’s room.

“Ah, yn-chan,” his mother greeted with a smile, glancing over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove. “Kei knocked out?”

Yn smiled softly, stepping into the kitchen. “Like a light. He didn’t even fight it this time.”

His mom chuckled and waved her over. “I’m making yasai itame for dinner. Want a taste?”

“Maybe later. I’m just thirsty.” Yn went to grab herself a glass of water and leaned against the counter.

They stood like that for a moment. Just two women in soft silence, bound by mutual affection for the tall, tired boy sleeping upstairs.

Then his mother gave her a knowing look. “You’re still looking at places?”

Yn paused with the glass halfway to her lips, then slowly nodded. “Yeah. A few more popped up this week, actually.”

His mom hummed thoughtfully, gently stirring the pot in front of her. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“I am.” Yn’s voice was firm, determined. “I know it’s not a perfect solution, and there’s no guarantee everything will go the way we want it to. But…” She bit her lip. “If I can find a place somewhere in between our schools—close enough for the both of us without losing half a day commuting—I think it’ll help.”

His mom smiled without turning. “You know, I thought you were just being polite the first time you brought it up. But then you started asking about train lines and furniture stores.”

Yn laughed quietly. “I just… I don’t want us to drift apart.”

The honesty of it made her chest tighten. She hadn’t said it out loud before. Not like this.

“Kei worries about it too,” yn continued. “But I didn’t want to tell him just yet. Not until we’re both past our entrance exams. He’s already stressed. If I add more to his plate now…”

“You’re protecting him,” his mom said simply, finally turning to face her.

“I guess I am.”

There was a pause, and then the woman’s expression softened into something fond and just a little proud.

“He’s lucky, you know,” she said. “He doesn’t say it much—not in words—but Kei… he’s never brought a girl home like this. Never looked at someone the way he looks at you.”

Yn ducked her head, flustered. “I’m lucky too,” she murmured. “It’s hard sometimes, but… he’s worth it.”

“Mhm. Just remember—love’s important, but life’s more complicated than that,” his mom said. “You’re both young, and… well, I won’t embarrass you with the talk—”

Yn nearly dropped the glass, coughing as she choked on her own saliva.

“—but just promise me you’ll be smart. About everything.” Her gaze was firm, but not unkind. “College is hard enough without extra surprises. And if there’s ever a question you’re too shy to ask him, or your parents or even me… just remember, there’re clinics near campus that have discreet pamphlets.” A pause. “And condoms.”

Yn turned away, a furious blush rising to her cheeks. “Oh my god…”

“Motherly duty fulfilled,” she said dryly, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Now, I’ll just have to give Kei my version of the talk when you finally tell him.” 

Then she reached over, patting yn’s hand. “But if you ever need help figuring out the other stuff—laundry, cooking, cleaning—my door’s always open, yn. And if Kei ever slacks off, text me. I’ll guilt trip him for you.”

Yn laughed, the tension dissolving into something lighter. She gave her hand a squeeze in return.

“Thanks, Tsukishima-san.”

“Just call me Mom already,” she said, grinning.

Yn flushed. “That still feels too… early.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing gently in the small kitchen.

As yn finished her water and rinsed out the glass, she glanced back toward the stairs. She already missed being next to him, even if he was fast asleep.

She wasn’t sure what the future would look like, not exactly. But knowing that Kei would be in it, and that he cared enough to worry about it just like she did, made it feel a lot less daunting.

And a whole lot more certain.

┌──── “ 💭 „

Vellichor’s Matchup Event

└➤ OPEN! 。✑ ───────

-> Please read everything before sending in a matchup request. <3

Hello !!

-> This event is pretty self explanatory. Send a message to my askbox telling me about yourself , your preference ( male , female ), and I’ll match you up with a genshin impact character ! But, there will be a few rules:

۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊All I ask from you is that you reblog this and/or follow me if you want me to give you a matchup. It’ll help me get more out there on tumblr ! Of course, this doesn’t mean you can’t send your ask anonymously.

۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊Please also keep in mind I am a SFW blog ! If there is anything nsfw you include in your matchup I will delete it.

۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊I’ll keep accepting matchup requests until June 25th. As soon as it turns the 26th, I won’t take anymore :]

۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊it may take me a while to get to every request! Please be patient. <3

۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊ And keep in mind, the more detailed you are with your description of yourself the better I can match you up!

That’s all! If there’s something I didn’t cover in here , feel free to ask in my inbox.

└─── “ 💭 „

Thank you for reading!

- with love , vellichor

do you have a masterlist??

𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: 𝑶𝒍𝒊

𝑨𝒈𝒆:24

𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕:

𝑪𝒐𝑫 & 𝑻𝑳𝑶𝑼 & 𝑹𝑫𝑹2

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑹𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺!

𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒓: 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔. 𝑰𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓, 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆.

𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐.

𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 &lt;3

𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈:

𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒓, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝑨𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒎𝒆 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏-𝒂𝒅𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕. 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓.

𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆, 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑰 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒇𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎. 𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒇 𝑰'𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓.

𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑪𝑶𝑵/𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒕/𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔/𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒑𝒔/𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒔/𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑-𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒕, 𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚/𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚, 𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚. 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆, 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕.

𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒔𝒌!!

(𝑾) 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌. 𝑰𝒇 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇. 𝑰'𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕.

𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏 𝑨𝑭𝑨𝑩/𝑭!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕.

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑶𝒇 𝑫𝒖𝒕𝒚:

𝑫𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆

𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑷𝑫𝑨 (𝑾)

𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 (𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔) (𝑾)

𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒚 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 (𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔,𝑮𝒂𝒛,𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒂,𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆) (𝑾)

𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑮𝒂𝒛 (𝑾)

𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒛 (𝑾)

𝑺𝒆𝒎𝒊-𝑷𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒄 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑮𝒂𝒛 (𝑾)

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 (𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔) (𝑾)

𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅!𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒙 (𝑾)

𝑼𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 (𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐)(𝑾)

𝑮𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓 / 𝑹𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓 (𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑪𝒐𝑫 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔) (𝑾)

𝑷𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆 (𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏, 𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚) (𝑾)

𝑯𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 (𝑾)

𝑻𝑭𝑻141 + 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 (𝑾)

𝑮𝒂𝒛 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉 (𝑾)

𝑮𝒂𝒛 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 (𝑾)

𝑮𝒂𝒛 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒗𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒎 (𝑾)

𝑮𝒂𝒛 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝑾)

𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑻𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (𝑺𝑭𝑾)

𝑻𝑭141 + 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝑪𝒔 (𝑾)

𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒂 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒛𝒂 𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕 (𝑾)

𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒙 𝑲𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓 + 𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕 (𝑾)

𝑫𝒐𝒎!𝑮𝒂𝒛 + 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑾)

𝑮𝒂𝒛 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒊𝒈, 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚? (𝑾)

𝑻𝑭141 + 𝑽𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔: 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝑮𝒂𝒛, 𝑺𝒐𝒂𝒑, 𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕

𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 (𝑾)

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆 141 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓.

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆 141 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒄.

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆 141 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑.

𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓!𝑮𝒂𝒛 (𝑾)

𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏!𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 (𝑾)

𝑵𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒓!𝑮𝒂𝒛 (𝑾)

𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒆𝒓!𝑮𝒂𝒛

𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒆𝒓!𝑮𝒂𝒛 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 2

𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 (𝑾)

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆 141 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆 (𝑾)

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆 141 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒋𝒐𝒃:

𝑲𝒚𝒍𝒆 '𝑮𝒂𝒛' 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌:

𝑾𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔. (𝑾)

𝑴𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓, 𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍. (𝑾)

𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒅𝒐. (𝑾)

𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 (𝒇𝒕. 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆) (𝑾) *will be edited

𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒚 𝑷𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍. (𝑾)

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑩𝒐𝒚 (𝑾)

𝑾𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 (𝑾)

𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔.

𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒆, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 1.

𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚: 𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒆'𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆. (𝑾)

𝑹𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒔. (𝑾)

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆:

𝑰𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒕 𝑨𝒇𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒔. (𝑾)

𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 (𝒇𝒕. 𝑮𝒂𝒛) (𝑾) *will be edited

𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔/𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓/𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆. (𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 1, 𝑺𝑭𝑾) (𝑾)

𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔/𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓/𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆. (𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 2, 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾) (𝑾)

𝑵𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒅𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒆. (𝑾)

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒙 141!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌) (𝑾)

𝑴𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 1.

𝑴𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 2. (𝑾)

𝑷𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒑 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔:

𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒔. (𝑾)

𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔/𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓/𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆. (𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 1, 𝑺𝑭𝑾) (𝑾)

𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔/𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓/𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆. (𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 2, 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾) (𝑾)

𝑰'𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆. (𝑾)

𝑯𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒙 (𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔) (𝑾)

𝑩𝒊𝒈, 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓. (𝑾)

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆.

𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒔 𝑺𝒌𝒚 .

𝑨𝒍𝒆𝒙 𝑲𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓:

𝑭𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒉 (𝑾)

𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 (𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕)

𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏 '𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕' 𝑹𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒚:

𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘 (𝑾)

𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 '𝑺𝒐𝒂𝒑' 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑻𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒉:

𝑰𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝑼𝒔:

𝑨𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝑨𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏:

𝑨𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈. (𝑾)

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒆. (𝑾)

𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔:

𝑻𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒆 𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅. (𝑾)

𝑮𝒖𝒏 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚 (𝑨𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝑨𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏). (𝑾)

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒔. (𝑨𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝑨𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏) (𝑾)

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑨𝒃𝒃𝒚 (𝑾)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝑹𝑫𝑹2:

𝑫𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒙: 𝑨𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓, 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏, 𝑱𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓, 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒔 (𝑾)

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒊𝒈 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 (𝑾)

𝑨𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏:

𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆, 𝑪𝒐𝒘𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍. (𝑾)

𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏:

𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 (𝑾)

𝑱𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝑬𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂:

𝑨𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕'𝒔 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 (𝑾)

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝑺𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒉:

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚. (W)

Sharing a new interactive Tsukishima Kei x Reader fanfic, where you play as Reader! It works just like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure.

Title: Strawberry Shortcakes

Description: You're going to karasuno, and a fateful meeting with one particular tall blond has changed the course of your life's boat…

Author credit: Kanan

Link to play: https://glimmerfics.com/stories/d885cd2c-strawberry-shortcakes

"I love you. I'm sorry."

Jason didn't mean to say it. Not like this. Not now. Not when he's buried deep inside you, holding you like this might be the last time he gets to.

But it happened when he wasn't thinking - just feeling.

You don't even notice it at first. You are lost in the rhythm, the warmth, the way he looks at you like you're the only good thing he's seen all his life.

You don't notice how his hands tremble, how his breath catches every time you sigh his name, when you moan it into his mouth.

He's not rough. Not tonight. He's soft, taking his time, like he's trying to memorize the feel of having you against him.

Jason is all calloused hands and desperate lips, tracing every curve and dip of your body he can reach, worshipping you in ways you didn't think were possible.

When he finally lets go, he trembles, both from exertion and emotion. He's buried in you, breaths coming in stutters because the feeling in his chest has nothing to do with the pleasure he felt. Because it's too much and not enough all at once.

Your eyes are closed, lips parted, and to Jason, you're poetry incarnate. You're someone who sees him, without the mask, without the guns, and you stay.

You see the broken boy who carries too many ghosts, and you still stay.

The feeling in his chest is unconscionable, and then, it slips. Soft, quiet, like someone ripped it out of him.

"God, I love you."

Jason freezes the second it's said, eyes wide, and you feel the panic in the way his body tenses. Like, he could reverse time with sheer will. Like, he wants to pull it back into his throat, but it's too late.

His truth is out there now, raw and naked.

You blink at him, dazed, a little breathless beneath him and his stomach tightens.

"Forget it," he says, voice sharp, not cold. But you can sense the fear underneath.

You know. You always do.

He tries to pull away. Tries to pretend like he didn’t just shatter himself open.

But you grab his face with both hands and force him to look at you.

"Jason," your voice is soft, but it makes him flinch.

Like, he's bracing for another person to tell him there's no love.

Like, he's waiting for you to laugh at him.

Like, he's waiting for you to see him the same way he sees himself.

But you smile. Warm, real, knowing, and it kills him.

"Say it again," you whisper, pressing his forehead to yours.

Jason shakes his head because saying it again makes it real; it means giving meaning to the storm of feelings inside him.

"I can't -"

"Yes, you can."

Your fingers slip into his hair, thumbs brushing the edge of the mask he wears even when it's not on his face.

Your expression softens when you look into his eyes. Scared, shining with tears, and carrying many more emotions than he thought he was capable of.

"Say it again, Jay."

He closes his eyes, and his walls crumble.

"I love you," His voice breaks at the words, and he's barely holding on but the last thing he wants to do is sob into your neck like the pathetic, scared boy he is.

But he also knows that you'll let him, that you'll hold him, and tell him it's okay.

And that terrifies him. Because you treat him like he's worth all the demons he brings along.

You're everything Jason convinced himself he would never deserve.

Jason inhales, blinks away the tears in his eyes, and then; lets go.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

He buries his face in the curve of your neck and you hold him there.

He repeats the three words like they've been circling inside his chest since he met you (Spoiler: they are).

He says them like it physically hurts not to.

And then, after a few quiet moments, his face still hidden against your skin.

"I didn't mean to say it like that," his voice is soft, slightly shaky, like he's trying not to cry, "not like this. Not until I knew... you felt it too."

You laugh at that, "Of course I do, you idiot."

Jason pulls back at that, a ghost of a smile on his face, and presses his forehead to yours again.

"I love you, Jason."

His smile widens and he closes his eyes like he wants the words to seep into his bones, like he wants to carry them in his heart.

Because he never thought he'd hear them. Not like this, not from someone who truly means it.

"I'd die for you. Again."

He says the words, and suddenly your heart feels too big for your chest.

"I know, but I want you to live for me."

Jason nods and exhales like he's never breathed before. Like nothing made sense until this moment.

Like he could live here forever, and it still won't be enough.

After, he holds you all night. He falls asleep with his arm thrown around your waist and his nose pressed against your collarbone.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Jason Todd drawn by Dan Mora… INJECT IT IN MY VEINS

👀👀 let me throw you some kyle coded quotes. do what you wish with it 🫴

"If the choice is the mission or coming home to you, I’m coming home."

"There will always be another mission, _ , but there won’t always be another you."

This has been sitting in my inbox for a wee bit and I’m sorry it took so long. Thank you for sending this through! I hope I did it justice for you.

Pairing: Kyle Garrick x GN!Reader

CW: slight angst, relationship troubles, but comfort and happiness because Kyle is the sweetest boy <33

You loved your boyfriend. With all your heart. Kyle was the sweetest guy you’d dated, the most caring and attentive man you could have ever hoped for. But every relationship has their gripes and unfortunately, Kyle’s job was yours.

It was important, you knew that. He saved countless lives every time he went away, putting himself in danger in the process. But the fact he was gone so often made everything hard. He often missed important events; wasn’t home for your birthday or your anniversary or the holidays in general.

Despite you trying to be understanding, sometimes you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unwanted frustration towards your boyfriend. He made it up to you whenever he was back, you knew that, but it wasn’t the same. And you selfishly wished for more.

“I want you to be here more!” You yelled at him in frustration one night, having one too many drinks. “I know your job is hard—”

“No, you don’t know how hard it is. You have no idea what I go through.” Kyle snapped back, just as agitated.

“And you have no idea what it’s like sitting here waiting for you, watching all my friends and their partners and wishing I had that instead of praying you’re not dead.” Shaking your head in exasperation. He just laughed darkly, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry for getting my hands dirty so the world stays clean. Do you have any idea how dangerous some of these arseholes are?” Groaning in frustration, you push past him, walking down the hall to your shared bedroom.

“You’re missing the point.” Gritting your teeth, you huffed out a breath. “I’m not a priority for you.”

The harsh words make him stop, no longer stomping after you. It’s enough to make you turn around, and the hurt expression on his face immediately makes you feel guilty.

“What makes you think I don’t?” He whispered, voice barely audible as he blinked with uncertainty. Ducking your head, you look away from him, not being able to stomach the expression on his face anymore.

“It’s just… you always leave. There’s always something more important than me.” His expression twists with anguish and steps forward with two strides, hand closing around your wrist.

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.” The dark brows on his forehead were pulled tightly together. His warm eyes, usually so calm and comforting, were wide and panicked. “You’ve always been a priority to me.”

The tears pricked in your eyes as his words dug into your skin, pulling down the defences you’d tried so hard to build around yourself. Shaking your head, you try to push him away, wiping furiously at your cheeks.

“I don’t feel like it, Kyle. You’re gone so often. And I know it’s important and I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”

As if the universe decided to play a cruel joke on you, his phone began to ring. Kyle winced, closing his hand around your wrist tighter as he dug into his pocket. You knew whose name would appear on the screen before he even needed to tell you.

“It’s Price.” His voice sounded wounded, broken as he looked up at you, eyes desperate and pleading as the phone continued to buzz in his hand.

“Go on. Answer it. It’s important.” The iciness of your tone couldn’t be missed, despite trying to keep your expression dismissive.

“Fuck, babe, please.” He begged, keeping a firm hold on you and not letting you walk away. “I can fix this. We can fix this. I just—”

“You need to take it. Yeah, I know.” Shrugging, you leaned back against the wall, watching him as he gave in, putting the phone up to his ear.

“Sir?” The shift between Kyle and Sergeant Garrick was something you used to find attractive, enticing. Now, it just left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You watched the one sided conversation closely, Kyle’s face becoming more and more strained. His jaw twitched as he grit his teeth and you sighed, knowing what was inevitably coming. Flicking his eyes towards you, he saw the hurt on your face, the sad acceptance and his own heart pounded before opening his mouth.

“Actually, Captain, I was thinking about taking a bit of time off.” At his words, your ears pricked and head snapped up to meet his gaze. He met your eyes as his thumb tenderly grazed against the back of your hand. “Yeah, sir. Just something important that I need to attend to here.”

Dropping your wrist, he lifted his hand up to cup your cheek tenderly, pressing his forehead against yours. At this distance, you could hear the tinny voice of his captain coming through the phone speaker.

“Alright Kyle. Take care of yourself. And take care of that partner of yours. You’ve put them through hell this last year.”

“I know, sir. Need to sort out my priorities. See you in a few weeks.” And he hung up the phone, pushing it into his pocket and lifting the hand to join his other.

The pair of you remained there for longer than you cared to admit, your face tenderly held between his hands as you breathed deeply.

“You mean more to me than I ever could express. What you do for me, I couldn’t ask for someone better.” Curling your hands into the fabric of his shirt, you tugged him closer. Sliding under the cotton, you rested your palms on the warm, firm skin of his torso.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, you don’t need to apologise. I’m sorry.” He lifted his head up to look down at you with sincerity. “I have been putting work first, and not you. It always should have been you.”

“But I said those hurtful things—”

“Because you were upset, love. It’s okay.” His voice was smooth as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you. “I love you, babe. So fucking much. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

Being wrapped in his arms had always made you feel safe, and this time was no different. Breathing in, you let his familiar scent surround you, settling deep into the back of your mind as you hugged him back tightly.

“Still no excuse for saying all that stuff before. The work you do is important. If you need to leave… I understand.” Deep down, you knew it was the right things to say. If Kyle was being called to work, it was something important and as much as you wanted him for yourself, others needed him more.

“No, love. I’m not going anywhere. There will always be another mission, but there won’t always be another you.”

Letting out a breathy chuckle, you lifted your head out of his chest, staring up at him with a soft smile.

“You really mean that?” His deep brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he backed you against the wall, tilting your chin up and lowering his face to seal his lips over yours.

His fingers curled into the hair at the base of your neck, holding you close as his lips moved slowly, dragging out the kiss. His warm breath fanned over your cheek as he groaned, cupping your cheek and letting his teeth drag across your bottom lip before pulling back.

You knew your lips were already swollen, the temperature of your body rising as your breath came out in short pants.

“If the choice is the mission or coming home to you, I’m coming home.” He whispered, thumbs tracing against your cheekbones. “You are what’s important to me.”

When somebody say your NOTP is canon

Kyle Gaz Garrick who hides the constant nightmares he has from you.

Ever since the helicopter incident, things have been different for him.

He isn't sure if he's really 'traumatized' as the feelings come and go.

Some days he feels like open spaces are closed in on him and suffocating him

some days he feels like running quickly up the stairs as he feels like he could fall through them any moment

some nights he wakes up with the same memory from where he was upside down and shooting terrorists

Sure, he boasts about it. Who wouldn't? Managing to live to tell the tale and knocking bad guys out all the same time while he was under stress and pressure?

And yet if doesn't stop the adrenaline he felt rushing through him, how he had to push himself aside for a moment and focus on the mission at hand and worry about the situation later

Now he sat on the couch, not wanting to wake you up with something so little, something he could handle

He's a grown man afterall

He had made sure to leave the room as quickly and as quietly as possible and yet you still managed to wake up, feeling the lack of his warmth and just him in general

Tiptoeing your way into the living room before frowning at the sight of your boyfriend with his head in his hands, hunched over in the dark.

You couldn't see a thing yet the pit in your stomach grew and grew with each moment

"Kyle?"

He looked up quickly when he heard your voice. You turned the lights onto see his face, making your frown tug a little lower when you saw how tired he looked

"Shit, sorry. didn't mean to wake you up, love"

You sighed and sat next to him, letting him lay on your chest.

His arms wrapped around your torso as he started to relax when your hand rubbed circles on his back, a comforting silence filled the air as you two enjoyed eachother's company

You didn't expect him to open up to you yet nor did you force him. You just wanted to be there for him in his darkest moments like he always was for you

He buried his face into your shoulder, soon falling asleep there before you started to feel yourself drift off as well

He was unsure of a lot of things, but he was sure of one thing:

You were his light