#And even if they did it still doesn’t equal hate

[dekariosclan]

Thoughts on mystra leaving Gale in the fugue plane if he sacrifices himself in act 3 during his origin run? I only did it to see what the ending would be and, it broke my heart and made me so mad.

(I already hated her but oh man)

Anon, you are a much stronger person than I am, because I could never go through with sacrificing Gale, even to see an ending that I otherwise would miss! But if my research is correct, you are referring to Gale ending up in the fugue plane and speaking to Withers, who says:

Withers: “I feared I might not find thee here—that Mystra would have already plucked thy thread from the tapestry of fate. But she may wait awhile yet.”

Ah, yes. Once again, Gale is bluntly shown that he is of little importance to Mystra. Even after following her instructions and sacrificing himself for the good of humanity, AND directly benefitting her by destroying the Netherbrain, he’s still not high on her list of priorities.

This isn’t shocking to me, because Mystra stays impressively on-brand throughout the game in regards to how poorly she treats Gale.

I know that there are still occasional debates on timelines, ages, how Gale’s ‘folly’ played out, etc., as well as Mystra’s treatment/abuse of mortals in her past (and WOW some of that is…a doozy to read) but I’m just going to focus on what happens in the game. And in regards to that, when it comes to the phrase “All my homies hate Mystra,” I am one of the homies.

Because of course Mystra would leave Gale waiting in the fugue plane. Just like she leaves him waiting in his origin run if he returns the crown to her and says he’d like to be lovers again. She doesn’t even care enough to give him the courtesy of a ‘yes’ or ‘no’—she simply says “All in good time,” and then just…leaves.

(If Gale is an illlithid and returns the crown, Mystra does actually take him to Elysium in order to save his soul if he so chooses, but I don’t exactly get happily-ever-after vibes from that ending, either.)

All Gale has ever wanted was to be with someone who loves him. To ‘live in a wizard’s tower with a sweetheart’, as revealed in the Act I Ornate mirror scene. But his dealings with Mystra invariably end with him being left alone, waiting, and/or being told to be ‘patient.’

Even if he were to become her Chosen again—which is mentioned in Tav’s dialogue on the pier, if Gale agrees to return the crown—he’s essentially back to where he started in his relationship with her, minus the sex and the Archmage title. That’s a very sad ending for Gale, because it means, despite everything, he still hasn’t learned that he is worthy of a better life.

And so Anon, to your question about my thoughts: Even if she had been waiting to collect him in the fugue plane, I simply cannot imagine any scenario where Gale would be happy with Mystra. Gale is happiest when he’s PARTNERED with someone, when he has companionship with someone who is equal to him. Someone who will be there for him, the same way that he is there for them, always. He won’t ever get that with Mystra. That’s what happens when you have a gaping power differential in a relationship, and it’s why a ‘romance’ between them should never have happened in the first place. Say what you will about God Gale, but the very first thing he does when his beloved agrees to join him in the Heavens is to make them a god, too. He doesn’t want a lover who is a follower, or someone he can control or dismiss on a whim. He wants an equal partnership—because that’s what real love is.

So, here’s what I propose as the best ending, to help cleanse your palate from that awful fugue plane one: Gale doesn’t sacrifice himself, he leaves the crown in the river, and he marries his beloved Tav. And moving forward, if Mystra is desperate for a booty call, she’s in luck! There’s a wholeass pantheon of other Gods whom she is welcome to f*ck. If she’s so desperately in need, she can send a scroll to Helm that says “U up? WYD?” and go from there. Or, she can ask Selune if she’d be up to Astral plane & chill sometime. She can see what it feels like when one of them dismisses her.

Most importantly, she can stay the hell away from mortals, and away from Gale and Tav.

[shukenzu]

hello! so ive been seeing this around, and i feel like your defense of mitsuba isnt entirely accurate, so as a color theory (and character design) fanatic, id like to share my opinion on this :3

so first of all, you are not entirely wrong! mitsubas colors do shift a lot from s1 of the anime to his redesign (ashk s1), which makes him look a lot more like your example palette as shown below.

although, as you can see here, one thing is present in both designs- one of mitsubas most prominent colors is actually orange! yes, pink is much more present in his new design, but provided your example was of two complimentary colors (pink to green with a light orange midtone), neither of you are entirely accurate.

also, yes, i wrote that mitsubas pastel pink is red, because that is how it appears on the color wheel. it is a lighter red, which is a more natural pink than the actual pinks presented in his designs, which are shades of magenta :3

another thing to note is your example. lurantis isnt exactly a good defense in my opinion, because despite being of similar colors lurantis is much more balanced than mitsuba, due to the color distribution. lurantis, from my rough estimation, is about 40% dark pink, 40% light pink, 10% white and 10% green (not including the pupils) which is good color distribution, it makes for a clear design with good color balance. mitsuba however, is 60% pink, 30% orange and 10% green. thats only looking at the color chart. in reality, mitsubas greens are barely present, only appearing in his piercing and in his pupil if we look at official art. its imbalanced, and makes you go “hey thats weird, why doe he only have green there?”. basically, lurantis actually proves anons point in a way, because it shows that mitsubas color distribution is actually imbalanced.

as for the pinks themselves, i agree with anon. mitsubas anime colors are rlly washed out, which paired with this style, makes him look less appealing. i think aida executes this much better, because shes able to work with more colors and better understanding of the style, which leads me to- the inconsistency accusations:

if u look here, i took an older drawing of mitsuba paired with a new one, took out color swatches and compared them. this lead to a tie, but even then, some colors did match the shade of the other closely, especially the matching colors, which leads me to believe aida does have a consistent idea of what mitsubas colors should look like. especially with the new drawing, in which there are actually more pinks distributed around his design (despite what the chart says) like in his hair which actually looks a lot better. the colors in aidas works are, while still being quite earthly, still very appealing and vibrant to look at, which just makes me sad that they weren’t incorporated well into the anime. but enough with the anime.

also, anon is allowed to dislike these colors. ill say it here- i rlly dislike the usage of oranges and the green(singular) in mitsubas design, it looks out of place and unappealing. just because this palette is largely considered to be appealing, doesnt mean itll be appealing for everyone. color is completely subjective despite humans gravitating towards certain meanings for it, hell, theres even something called ‘color blindness’ in which you cant see a specific color. your argument of “if this is pretty to ME it should be pretty to EVERYONE” is fundamentally nonsense because not everyone see colors the same. in fact, id argue that you going after this person because of a different color taste shows a lack of emotional intelligence as you would be willing to argue with someone who simply doesn’t have the exact same taste you have. even on that femme thing, some people view pink as a femme color, in fact that has been largely accepted by our society, there is no wrong with looking at it that way as long as you dont turn it into something hateful. it also doesn’t equal lesbian. it is simply a range of colors :-)

lastly, about the homophobia thing. i understand why anon brings this up. there is a notion in this community that everyone should like mitsuba this very specific way, and if someone strays from that way, they will immediately be called a homophobe. this has happened to me a few times before, and bringing this up doesn’t mean anon is being mean specifically because theyve been called a homophobe, it is because of the fear that they will be called one due to an opinion difference, and unfortunately, you fed into that fear. thats why i dont think anon is doing this without reason, they want to discuss something they dislike about a certain character without being accused of homophobia, but you did, and i fear that shows more on you than them.

thank you for listening to my spitball. remember that we are all just people trying to communicate our feelings on this platform and being aggressive over such a minuscule thing such as a characters color palette does not help you in any way, it makes you look rather bad by dismissing and calling out someone who is simply trying to convey an idea that is not well accepted around here. be patient with people and dont answer out of frustration, calm down, think about what you say, and respond like a normal person. have a good day <3

i dont really like mitsubas design,,, its way too pink for me and its such an awful one at that,,, like it couldnt have been pastel pink??? it couldnt have been a nicer shade??? instead we get this whatever pink like ew 🤢 i love pink femme designs on both men and women and anyone but this one is just ugly,,,and yeah whatever accuse me of being homophobic or something because the bleeding pink burns my eyes lol

TW: M**suba (/hj)

〜 📻

[misssakurapetal29]

C@tra Stans: OMG why people are criticizing C@tra so much!? She’s a literal teenager! Poor baby! 🥺

Also C@tra Stans: OMG C@tra and C//A is SO sexy and spicy! I love it! 😍😍😍

[interactivefictionramblings]

[Heaven’s Secret 1 spoilers.]

Tbh, I don’t understand why Sepha didn’t just send Malbonte - not Bont or Mal, Malbonte - down to Earth, as a fallen angel, to be with his parents? Like, he wouldn’t have ever been able to come back, right? So it’d ‘solve the threat.’

I mean, I guess the answer is just ‘plot,’ but it’s a boring answer. The little bit we got of Sepha, I got the impression he’s not even able to grasp his own cruelty—like he doesn’t try to be, yet still is, anyway. And I guess part of that makes sense, with him being an unbelievably ancient deity and all, but it doesn’t explain his actions about Malbonte, when Earth was right there.

Like

?????????

[pastel-rights]

And then I finally end it off with some doodles of them… they make me feel things.

[cumironi]

THE CLOWN HAS BEEN FOUND s. gojo

★ sum. the baggy clothes, the glasses, the book, the brain— sum : a nerd, that’s what you are. a center of attention, but not because of how beautiful and popular and everyone wants to date you— no, but because you are a loser. and the popular boys have a bet who’s get to sleep with you first and pop the cherry.

warning. college au, ōral ( m & f receiving ), fingēring, dirty talk, hair-pulling, bit name-calling, petnames, praise, cherry pop mentioned, unprotected sēx.

the four of them—geto, gojo, toji, and sukuna—sat sprawled out under the big willow tree on campus, a prime spot they’d claimed as their own. the tree’s branches hung low, providing shade from the afternoon sun, and it seemed to be the perfect place for them to lounge around, their laughter and conversation echoing through the quiet space. they were the popular boys on campus, infamous for their looks, athleticism, and wealth, and equally notorious for their cocky, careless attitudes—a magnetic combination that somehow made them both admired and hated.

they were deep in some joke, laughing obnoxiously, when toji’s gaze drifted, his laughter fading as his eyes settled on something—or rather, someone—in the distance. his smirk widened as he cocked his chin in your direction, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“look at her,” toji muttered, loud enough for the others to hear. the way he said it held a certain bite, like he’d just stumbled upon something amusing.

the other three followed his gaze, their eyes landing on you, sitting off to the side with a thick textbook open in your lap. you were tucked into yourself, shoulders hunched slightly, completely absorbed in whatever you were reading. your clothes were baggy, drowning your frame in layers that did little to give away any shape. the oversized hoodie practically swallowed you, sleeves pulled down almost to your fingertips. your glasses kept sliding down your nose, and every now and then, you’d push them back up absently, clearly too lost in your book to notice much else.

“oh, the classic nerd look,” sukuna sneered, his eyes narrowing as he looked you over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “cute,” he added mockingly, though there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he found the whole thing entertaining.

gojo let out a low snort, shaking his head as he took a long drag from his cigarette, smoke curling around him in lazy spirals. he leaned forward, one arm bracing against the grass. his eyes still on you, but there was a mocking amusement dancing in them now. he exhaled slowly, a smirk pulling at his lips as he glanced over at sukuna, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“what’s this, sukuna? into the nerdy type now?” he taunted, tilting his head as he raised an eyebrow. his tone was layered with mockery, his smirk widening as if the very idea was too ridiculous to believe. “thought you had a thing for a girl with big tits.”

sukuna rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t waver. “naaah, not my type,” he shot back, his gaze flicking back to you briefly before he shrugged. “just saying she’s… amusing. probably jumps if someone even looks at her.”

“oh, definitely,” geto chimed in with a chuckle, folding his arms as he looked you over with a lazy curiosity. “bet she’s terrified of guys like us.”

toji laughed, shaking his head as he looked back at the others. “please, she’d probably faint if you even said hi.” they all shared a laugh, a mixture of arrogance and amusement, reveling in the thought. to them, you were just another quiet, unassuming girl in a sea of faces, someone they could easily overlook—or mess with, if the mood struck.

gojo snickered. “hell, she probably doesn’t even know we exist,” he taunted, his smirk growing ever more patronizing as he puffed out another plume of smoke. “probably spends her nights in her room, surrounded by books and stuffed animals. bet she’s never even been to a party.”

geto chuckled, leaning back with a mocking smile. “oh please, she’s probably never even been kissed.”

toji smirked, adding to the barrage of mockery. “god, she’s probably never been touched by a guy either, huh?” he chimed in, his words dripping with lewd undertones. he took another drag of his cigarette, then glanced back at you, eyeing you up and down again, his smirk widening into a leering grin. “bet she’s a complete virgin.”

there was a collective burst of laughter from the three of them, their voices loud and harsh in the otherwise peaceful afternoon air.

sukuna, his smirk still firmly in place, leaned back against the tree, his arms crossed. “yeah, she’s probably saving herself for her dream guy,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “probably wants some perfect fairytale romance. what a joke.”

toji let out a low, dark snicker, his gaze flickering back to you as his smirk widened into something almost predatory. he leaned forward slightly, the cruel glint in his green eyes sharpening as he watched you, completely oblivious to the way they were talking about you.

“oh, please,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mock amusement. “give me an hour with her, and i’d pop that cherry first,” he said, his scarred lips twisting into a wider smirk, a glimmer of cruelty evident in his gaze.

the other guys laughed again, their voices mingling in the harsh, arrogant way only they could manage. for them, it was a game—a chance to mock and taunt someone so outside their world.

geto snort, “yeah, right.”

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he took another casual drag from his cigarette, shaking his head at toji’s words. “big talk, man. you are too scary, let me take the ‘pop’,” he said, his voice laced with a mischievousness.

sukuna let out another sharp huff of laughter, his gaze trailing over you disdainfully, his smirk a mix of mockery and condescension. “yeah, good luck with that,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “bet she’d faint if you even came close to her.”

but toji didn’t seem worried, his smirk only growing wider, a cruel gleam in his eyes as he continued watching you, a dark challenge present in his expression.

“oh, i’d get her,” he said, his voice oozing a dangerous sort of confidence. his eyes darkened, his smirk turning almost feral as he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers idly.

“she wouldn’t even know what hit her.”

sukuna raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, matching toji’s dark energy with a glint of excitement in his own crimson eyes. he crossed his arms, tilting his head with a look that practically dared the others to take him up on his idea.

“let’s make it interesting, boys,” sukuna drawled, his tone laced with twisted amusement. “how about a little wager? who’s gonna get to pop the cherry first?”

the idea hung in the air, laced with a sense of cruel playfulness. the others exchanged looks, smirks widening as they took in the challenge, their gazes flickering back to you as you remained completely unaware, hidden in your book and blissfully out of earshot.

gojo’s smirk only widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the idea. he took another puff from his cigarette, eyeing sukuna with amusement, clearly intrigued by the proposal. “a wager?” he asked, his voice tinted with a hint of curiosity. “what’s the prize?”

geto chuckled, the idea clearly appealing to him as well. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he chimed in. “i’m in,” he said, his smirk mirroring the others.

sukuna shrugged, an amused gleam flashing through his crimson eyes as he glanced over at you, still utterly engrossed in your book and completely unaware of the bet unfolding among the boys. his smirk deepened as he looked back at the others, his tone casual yet laced with dark amusement.

“anything you want,” he replied smoothly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. he paused, his gaze flickering back to you for a brief moment before adding, “but there’s one condition—whoever wins has to take a photo as proof.”

the challenge hung heavy in the air, each of them exchanging glances, their smirks widening in unison. the thought of the twisted little game gave them all a sense of cruel excitement, feeding their arrogant thrill as they eyed you once more, already imagining how they’d play this out.

gojo let out a low snort, his smirk growing into a smirk of his own. he took another draw on his cigarette before tilting his head slightly, his expression shifting into one of agreement. “deal.” he said, his tone laced with a hint of determination.

geto chuckled softly, his eyes flickering to you once more before he nodded his agreement. “i’m in,” he added, his smirk mirrorring the others, clearly liking the idea of the bet.

toji chuckled, a cruel gleam appearing in his green eyes as he looked at the others, the idea of the bet stirring something wicked inside of him. he leaned back, his smirk growing wider as he nodded. “i’m in,” he echoed, his voice lower than before, filled with an almost excited tension.

it had been a strange week, to say the least. the four most popular boys on campus—geto, sukuna, toji, and especially gojo—had suddenly taken an interest in you, a stark contrast to the way they’d mostly ignored you before. they’d pop up in places they normally wouldn’t be, go out of their way to hold doors open or throw you playful smiles, and act… almost charming. but you weren’t buying it, especially not gojo’s relentless attempts to convince you to tutor him. every time he begged for your help, you’d shut him down without a second thought.

today was no different. you were tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, lost in your studies, when you heard the sound of a chair being pulled out beside you. you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. with a heavy sigh, you rolled your eyes and refocused on your notes, determined to ignore him.

“oh, come on,” gojo drawled, leaning in close with a pout as he rested his elbows on the table, clearly unfazed by your cold response. “i really need help, you know. i’m hopeless without you.” his tone was dripping with exaggerated desperation, but there was a playful glint in his eyes as he watched for any reaction.

you kept your gaze fixed on your book, trying to block him out. “then maybe you should try actually paying attention in class,” you muttered, flipping a page, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone.

but gojo just leaned closer, his voice dropping to a softer, almost persuasive tone. “come on, i’ll owe you one. just one study session. i’ll even buy you coffee,” he offered, flashing you his signature charming smile, like he thought that was all it would take to wear you down.

“not interested,” you replied flatly, turning another page without looking up. you could feel his gaze on you, persistent as ever, but you were determined not to give him the satisfaction.

gojo’s smirk widened, his eyes narrowing slightly. he leaned even closer, his lips almost at your ear, as if daring you to ignore him. “come on, please?” he begged again, his tone dripping with fake desperation, his voice low and tantalizingly close. “just one little tutoring session. i’ll do anything.”

you froze, your pen pausing mid-word as the warmth of gojo’s hand slid down to your thigh, his fingers grazing just under the hem of your skirt. his touch was light, teasing, and you could feel your heart race at the audacity of his move. irritation flared within you, but when you turned to him, ready to give him a piece of your mind, you were met with that damn smirk of his—a look of pure, unbothered confidence.

his face was so close that you could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he whispered, “please?”

his voice was soft, almost seductive, and despite the irritation simmering beneath your calm facade, you could see the glint of amusement in his narrowed blue eyes, fully aware of the effect he was trying to have on you. your eyes narrowed, meeting his challenge, and you gave him a cold, leveled stare, unfazed by his proximity.

you lifted a brow, voice cool as ice. “is this your idea of begging, gojo?”

his smirk didn’t waver; if anything, it grew wider, clearly thrilled by your reaction. “i can be very persuasive,” he murmured, letting his fingers ghost over your thigh, just enough to keep your attention.

he leaned in even closer, his smirk widening further. his lips grazed your ear as he spoke again, his voice low and smooth, like silk. “and i can be very convincing,” he whispered, his hand sliding further up your thigh, leaving a trail of heated tingles in its wake.

you inhaled sharply, his breath hot against your skin as his words lingered in your ear, and you could feel your resolve slipping, his touch relentless and daring as his hand slid further up your thigh. the warmth of his fingers, the confidence in his voice—it was infuriatingly hard to ignore, and you could tell he knew it, that smirk of his only growing as he watched your reaction.

you turned to him, catching his gaze, meeting his smug look with one of quiet defiance. the words were barely a whisper as you muttered, “fine.”

his eyes lit up, triumphant, as if he’d known all along you’d give in, but you held his gaze steadily, a hint of warning still lingering there. “just one session,” you clarified, your voice firm, trying to reassert control even as you felt a flicker of warmth in your cheeks.

gojo’s smirk deepened, seemingly satisfied with your response. his hand paused, still resting on your thigh, his fingers gently caressing the soft skin, sending chills through your body.

“just one, huh?” he echoed, his voice low, thick with satisfaction. he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck, his lips practically grazing your skin as he spoke again. “don’t worry, i’ll make it count.”

he paused, his fingers tracing small, slow circles on your thigh, the gesture almost innocent, yet the meaning behind it clear. he looked at you, his gaze almost challenging, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he noticed your slight shiver at his touch. he leaned in further, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

“my place or yours?” he purred, his tone dripping with suggestion, his hand gradually making its way higher up your leg.

and that’s where you are . . .

gojo smirks down at you, his eyes roaming over your nerdy appearance hungrily, knees on the floor inside his dorm room. “thanks for coming to tutor me today. i really appreciate it,” his voice drips with false sincerity as he palms himself through his jeans.

“i’ve been struggling with this subject and i’ve heard you’re the best at explaining things.” gojo leans back on his hands, spreading his legs wider to give you an even better view of the bulge straining against his zipper. “why don’t you come closer and we can start going over the material? i’m all yours, baby.” his thumb pinch your chin, the soft pad of his finger trailing off your skin before slipping past your swollen lips into your mouth.

he chuckles softly, a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you squirm. “aww, what’s wrong? you look nervous. there’s no need to be shy around me.”

you swallow hard, your heart pounding in my chest as you kneel before gojo, feeling small and insignificant compared to his tall, muscular frame. your glasses slip down your nose slightly as you gaze up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“oh, um, t-thank you gojo-kun,” you stammer out, your voice quivering slightly. you shift nervously on your knees, very aware of how vulnerable your position makes you feel. and when gojo’s thumb pushes past your lips, you instinctively close your mouth around it, sucking lightly from habit before realizing what you were doing. a deep blush spreads across your cheeks.

“i’m just a bit overwhelmed, to be honest,” you managed to murmur, voice muffled by his thumb.

gojo’s smirk widens as he feels your warm, wet mouth envelop his thumb. he slowly pumps the digit in and out, mimicking a lewd act. “mmm, don’t be like that, cutie. i promise i won’t bite... much.” he winks salaciously.

his free hand reaches out to cup your burning cheek, calloused fingers brushing over the delicate skin. “you’re so cute when you’re flustered like this. it’s adorable how innocent you are.” gojo leans in closer, his hot breath fanning over your face. the musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils.

“tell you what, why don’t you put that clever tongue of yours to good use and help me relax a bit before we dive into studying?” his thumb presses deeper into your mouth insistently.

you whimper softly as gojo’s thumb invades your mouth more insistently, your tongue automatically swirling around the invading digit. your mind races, trying to process the sudden intimate contact and the heavy implication behind his words.

“i’m not sure if this is appropriate, gojo-kun,” you manage to say around his thumb after pulling back slightly, your voice muffled. “we should focus on the tutoring session...”

despite your weak protests, you can feel your body reacting to gojo’s proximity and touch— a traitorous heat pooling low in your belly, your cunt starting to clenching around nothing in your skirt. you squirm uncomfortably on your knees, hyper-aware of your submissive posture before him.

“what exactly did you have in mind?”

gojo chuckles darkly, amused by your feeble attempt at protest. he grips your hair, tugging your head back to expose the slender column of your throat. “oh, i think we both know this is exactly what we came here for, isn’t it?”

his other hand moves to palm his aching erection through his jeans, the thick outline unmistakable. “i had something much more... educational in mind than boring textbooks.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers huskily, “why don’t you be a good girl and put those pretty lips to work? show me what that smart mouth of yours can do besides spouting facts.” he uses his grip on your hair to guide your face towards his crotch, rubbing your cheek against the prominent bulge.

gojo groans softly as he feels your soft cheek pressed against his throbbing erection. he grinds subtly against you, seeking more friction. “fuuuck, you feel so good already. i bet these nerdy little lips will wrap around my cock perfectly.”

with his other hand, he starts unbuckling his belt, the metallic clink seeming obscenely loud in the quiet room. he pops the button of his jeans and slowly drags down the zipper, letting them gape open to reveal the waistband of his boxers straining over his massive bulge.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else,” gojo growls possessively. “by the time ’m done with you, the only thing you’ll be able to think about is choking on my dick.”

the idea was overwhelming— the thought of ruining you and winning the bet performed a cloud in gojo’s head. you gasp sharply as gojo forces your face against his clothed erection, the heat and hardness searing into your cheek. your eyes widen at his crude words, a shiver running down your spine— equal parts fear and reluctant excitement.

“g-gojo-kun, please...” you whimper, your voice high and thready. “we shouldn’t... i-i’ve never...”

despite your halfhearted protests, you find yourself leaning into his touch, nuzzling almost imperceptibly against the thick ridge of his cock. the scent of his arousal is dizzying this close, musk and sweat and pure male essence flooding your senses. trembling fingers come up to tentatively brush against his hipbones as his zipper lowers with agonizing slowness.

gojo smirks cruelly as he hears the tremor in your voice, relishing how easily he can affect you. “shh, it’s okay baby. i’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he croons mockingly.

he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly peels them down, freeing his enormous, rock-hard cock. it springs out, slapping against your cheek with a meaty thwack. the thick shaft pulses with need, the flared head an angry purple and leaking copious amounts of precum.

you let out a choked moan as gojo’s huge, throbbing cock slaps against your cheek, leaving a smear of sticky pre-cum on your soft skin. your eyes widen in shock at the sheer size of him, intimidated but undeniably aroused.

“open wide, nerd. i’ve got a big load for you,” gojo taunts crudely. he fists his hand in your hair again, using his grip to angle your face towards his weeping cockhead. “stick out that clever little tongue. i want to see you worship every inch of my big, fat cock like the desperate slut you are.”

“oh god...” you whimper, your tongue darting out to unconsciously lick your lips. the salty-sweet taste of his essence explodes across your taste buds, making your head spin. with trembling hands, you reach up to grasp his muscular thighs for support as he forces your face closer to his imposing manhood. your glasses fog up slightly from your quickened breathing. “i’ve never done this before,” you admit in a tiny, scared voice.

gojo grins wickedly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic lust as he sees the fear and reluctant desire warring in your expression. “that’s alright, that’s why i’m here, you’re about to get the fucking of a lifetime to your virgin pussy,” he grunted.

he rubs the swollen head of his cock all over your face, smearing your cheeks and lips with his slick precum. the musky scent fills your nostrils, making your head swim with overwhelming pheromones. “open up, baby, take my cock like a good girl. promise it feels good, do you trust me?” sweet, his honeyed voice suddenly heavy with sweetness.

but despite that, he thrusts his hips forward, pushing the broad tip past your lips and onto your tongue. he groans at the wet heat engulfing him, head just a beat throw back before snapped, eyes lock with your lips taking the half of his cock. “fuck yes, that’s it. wrap those pretty lips around me.”

you let out a muffled yelp as gojo suddenly pushes past your lips, his thick cock stretching your jaw painfully wide you almost sure the edge of your lips stretch open. your eyes water as he hilts himself inside your virgin mouth, the bulbous head hitting the back of your throat. you gag reflexively, throat spasming around his girth.

“mph!” you try to pull back but his grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place. tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you struggle to accommodate his impressive size. your small hands come up to weakly push at his thighs, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

after a moment, you force yourself to relax your jaw, breathing heavily through your nose. you start to experimentally suckle at the head, your tongue swirling clumsily around it. the taste of his skin and the musky scent flooding your senses is dizzying.

gojo throws his head back with a deep groan as your inexperienced mouth envelops him, your tongue clumsily lapping at his sensitive flesh. the sight of your stretched lips wrapped around his thick cock, tears glistening on your flushed cheeks, is incredibly erotic.

“that’s it, take it deeper,” he growls, fisting his hand tighter in your hair. with a sharp thrust of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt in your convulsing throat. your nose presses against his pelvis as he hilts inside you, cutting off your air supply completely.

“that’s good baby, goood job,” praise after praise fallen from gojo’s pretty, pink lips. he holds you there, savoring the feeling of your constricting esophagus fluttering around his cock. after several long seconds, he finally pulls back, allowing you a gasping breath before plunging in again.

gojo sets a brutal pace, fucking your face with deep, powerful thrusts. each snap of his hips drives his thick cock into your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. drool escapes the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your chin as he uses your mouth mercilessly.

“you’re doing so well for your first time,” he praises mockingly, voice strained with pleasure. “such an eager little cock sleeve, aren’t you? born to choke on a cock.” he pulls out abruptly, his spit-shined cock bobbing obscenely in front of your face. gojo smacks the heavy shaft against your tear-stained cheeks, smearing them with your own saliva mixed with his precum. “strip,” he commands gruffly, releasing his grip on your hair.

gojo looms over you, his chest heaving with exertion and arousal as he watches you intently. his eyes rake over your disheveled form, drinking in the sight of your reddened cheeks, puffy lips glistening with spit, and the way your glasses sit askew on your face.

“come on, slowpoke. i want to see every inch of the body hiding under those ugly clothes,” he growls impatiently, one hand coming down to roughly palm himself through his open fly. the other reaches out to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging insistently. but, instead of slipping out of your ‘ugly’ clothes, you stand there, eyes widened innocently the way you look up to him.

“don’t make me rip them off. you wouldn’t want me to damage your precious belongings, would ya?“ a wicked smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, eyes glinting with mischief and barely restrained hunger.

you tremble under gojo’s hungry gaze, acutely aware of how debauched you must look— face flushed, glasses fogged, lips swollen and slick with spit. with shaking hands, you reach for the buttons of your shirt, fumbling to undo them one by one.

as more of your creamy skin is revealed, gojo’s eyes darken with undisguised lust. he licks his lips, watching avidly as you shrug the garment off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. underneath, you wear a plain white lacy bra, the fabric straining slightly over your bust.

next, you stand on wobbly legs to shimmy out of your skirt, letting it pool around your ankles before stepping out of it. your panties match your bra, simple cotton with lace. “gojo-kun..” you murmur, hands hovering over your bra and panties, hiding yourself.

gojo’s heated gaze roams hungrily over your newly exposed body, lingering on the swell of your breasts straining against the delicate lace of your bra. he steps closer, crowding into your personal space until the hard planes of his body press against your softer curves.

“fuck, you’re even hotter than i imagined,” he rasps, calloused fingers trailing up your sides to cup your tits possessively. never in a million years had he found a loser nerd like you could be this hot, and it seems like his cock agrees with the way it’s twitching. he squeezes the soft mounds, thumbs flicking over your nipples through the thin fabric until they pebble beneath his touch, pushing a breathless gasp out of your throat.

with a wicked grin, gojo reaches behind you and deftly unclasps your bra, tossing it aside carelessly. cool air hits your bare skin, pebbling your nipples further as they’re bared to his intense scrutiny.

“perfect.”

gojo hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs in one swift motion. the flimsy material catches on your knees briefly before falling to your ankles, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

he takes a step back, drinking in the sight of your naked body with an appreciative hum. his eyes linger on the cute, neat patch of curls crowning your mound, the slight flare of your hips, the gentle swell of your ass. “goddamn, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs reverently.

without warning, gojo drops to his knees in front of you, large hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart. he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your most intimate parts. “i bet this sweet cunt tastes divine,” he growls, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, painfully slow stroke.

you can’t help but let out a startled moan as gojo’s warm tongue drags along your most intimate folds, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. your knees buckle slightly and you have to brace yourself against the wall to keep from collapsing under the intensity of sensation.

“g-gojo-kun!” you gasp, fingers tangling in his silver hair as he laps at your slit like a man starved. his tongue delves between your lower lips, seeking out your entrance and circling it teasingly. you squirm against the invasion, thighs trembling with the effort to hold still.

gojo chuckles lowly, the vibrations making you shudder. he seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. “ah! ahh!”

gojo moans into your pussy as you grind against his face, his tongue delving deep inside your fluttering walls. he laps at your juices greedily, the obscene slurping sounds filling the room. “mmm, you taste even better than i imagined,” he growls, the rumble of his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “so fucking sweet.”

his hands grip your ass, kneading the supple globes as he eats you out with single-minded focus. he alternates between thrusting his tongue in and out of your clenching hole and flicking the tip rapidly over your throbbing clit. the lewd wet noises echo off the walls, mingling with your needy whimpers and gasps.

“oooh! m-my god!” you writhe helplessly against gojo’s relentless assault, fingers digging into his silver hair as waves of overwhelming pleasure crash over you. your hips undulate shamelessly, grinding your aching core against his face as he devours you like a man possessed.

“that’s it, ride my tongue,” he grunt, the words muffled against your soaked folds. you throw your head back with a keening cry as gojo works you over with his skilled tongue, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair, tugging sharply at the silvery strands.

“ah! g-gojo-kun!” you gasp brokenly, toes curling against the cool tile floor. your inner muscles flutter wildly around his invading tongue.

gojo growls into your pussy, the sound sending delicious vibrations through your core. he doubles his efforts, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard while simultaneously thrusting two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your spasming channel.

“g-gojo-hng!” you sob brokenly, hips continue to roll shamelessly against his face. you mewl helplessly into the filthy kiss, when gojo’s tongue dominating yours as he claims your mouth thoroughly after he stands abruptly.

you can taste yourself on him, the musky flavor making your head spin with renewed arousal and it sends a fresh wave of heat flooding through your veins. his hand slides up to palm your breast roughly, calloused thumb scraping over your sensitive nipple.

when he finally breaks away, you’re left panting and dazed, lips kiss-swollen and tingling. gojo grins wolfishly down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. “god, so fucking beautiful when i’m ’bout to ruin you,” he promises darkly, voice rough with desire. “by the time i’m done, all you’ll be able to think about is my cock splitting you open."

his hand slides down your body to grip your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around his hip. the new position leaves you feeling deliciously vulnerable, your slick folds rubbing directly against the rigid length of him.

gojo’s heated gaze rakes over your flushed form, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. he licks his lips slowly, savoring the taste of your essence still coating his tongue. “fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he growls appreciatively, palming himself once again, smearing his precum all over your thigh, the biting lips to stop the moaning betraying his own desperate arousal.

with a few quick movements, gojo shucks off his shirt, revealing the lean lines of his torso. his pale skin is littered nothing but softness. he kicks off his pants next, leaving him fully naked now.

slowly, torturously, gojo sinks into your welcoming heat inch by excruciating inch. gojo grunts as your slick folds slide along his shaft, coating him in your essence. your slick walls stretch deliciously around his girth, molding to every ridge and vein. by the time he’s fully seated, you feel impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with hard, throbbing cock.

“fuuck!” he snarls, eyes squeezing shut at the exquisite sensation of your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. he holds himself there for a moment, letting you adjust to the sudden intrusion. “p-pussy sooo-shit! good.” the feeling of your gummy walls suffocating his cock almost making gojo’s feel bad for using you as a bet, but fuckkk! you feel so good.

you let out a strangled moan as gojo hilts himself fully inside you, stretching you wider than ever before. your slick walls flutter and clench around his thickness, trying instinctively to accommodate the sudden intrusion. the sensation borders on painful but the dull ache only serves to heighten your pleasure, stoking the flames of your arousal higher.

“ah! s-so biiig,” you whimper breathlessly, fingernails raking down gojo’s back. your hips twitch restlessly, torn between the urge to pull away from the intense stretch and the primal need to take him deeper. gojo groans at the feeling of your scorching heat enveloping him so completely. his pelvis presses flush against yours, ensuring that not an inch of space remains between your bodies.

gojo once again, groans deeply as your velvety walls ripple along his length, the exquisite sensations threatening to undo his control. he wants nothing more than to rut into you mindlessly, chasing his own pleasure. but he forces himself to hold still, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“shit baby, you feel incredible,” he rasps, voice strained with barely restrained lust. “so fucking tight...” he rolls his hips experimentally, pulling out just an inch before sinking back in. the drag of his thick cock against your sensitive nerves makes you both gasp. gojo sets a slow, deep rhythm, letting you feel every inch of him as he strokes your inner walls. his hands roam your curves possessively, mapping out the dips and swells of your body.

you arch into gojo’s touch, craving more of his addictive caresses. your nails score down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. the sting only seems to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder and faster as he chases his own pleasure.

“too muuuch,” you cry, tossing your head back as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back to urge him deeper. “hurt, ah! too big.”

gojo snarls, the sound feral and hungry. he leans down to capture one pert nipple between his teeth, biting down just shy of too hard. you yelp at the sharp jolt of pain, cunt clenching rhythmically around his pistoning length.

gojo grunts as your inner walls clamp down around him like a vice, the added pressure sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. he knows he should probably slow down, give you time to adjust, but the way you’re writhing beneath him is just too enticing.

“you can take it,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust.

once again, gojo snarls against your breast, tongue flicking out to lave over the abused bud. “don’t worry baby, i’ll make it feel real good,” he promises, harmonizing his words with a particularly vicious thrust. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix, making you see stars.

your slick walls spasm wildly around his girth, fluttering and clenching as if trying to push him out even as your body betrays you, hips rolling shamelessly to meet each punishing stroke. the wet slap of flesh echoes obscenely in the room, mingling with your wanton moans and gojo’s animalistic grunts.

gojo lets out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as your slick walls ripple around his thickness. “fuck, your pussy is milking my cock so good,” he grunts, hips snapping forward almost violently. one large hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. “come on, baby. squeeze this cock just like that,” gojo urges gruffly, increasing the pressure on your clit. “gonna fill this pretty cunt up real soon.”

you throw your head back with a guttural moan, fingers tangling in gojo’s hair as he works you closer to the edge. your thighs tremble, muscles quivering with the strain of holding yourself open for his relentless assault. sweat beads along your brow, plastering strands of hair to your face.

“please,” you keen desperately, unsure what exactly you’re begging for anymore. more? less? harder? faster? all you know is that yo’'re teetering right on the precipice, balanced precariously between agony and ecstasy.

gojo grins wickedly, sensing your desperation. he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “that’s it, cum for me baby. gonna pump you so full of my seed, you’ll be dripping for days.”

but before you reach that peak, that climax you desperately need, gojo abruptly stops moving. hands trailing down your tights before throwing your body to his bed. a gasp of surprise tears from your throat, followed by a whimper— a subtle sign of protest.

gojo chuckles darkly, reveling in the delicious sight of you sprawled out before him, flushed and panting. he takes a moment to admire the view— your chest heaving, breasts bouncing with each labored breath, the glistening evidence of your arousal painting your inner thighs.

gojo smirks down at you, taking in your confused expression with a glint of mischief in his eyes. he trails a finger down your sternum, circling one dusky nipple teasingly for a second. “what’s wrong, baby?” he coos mockingly. “didn’t get your fix?”

he shifts slightly, the movement causing his half-hard cock to brush against your thigh. you shudder at the contact, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you. gojo hums approvingly at your reaction, leaning down to nip at your jaw.

“mmm, look at you,” he purrs approvingly, trailing a finger through your slick folds. “all spread out and ready for me. such a goood girl.” without warning, gojo flips you onto your stomach, hauling your hips up until you’re presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. he runs a proprietary hand over the curve of your ass, squeezing roughly. “this ass though... fuck, i could play with it all day.”

gojo’s eyes rake over your prone form appreciatively, drinking in the delectable sight of you splayed out before him. he takes his time exploring your curves, fingers tracing idle patterns across your skin. when he reaches the swell of your rear, he gives the supple flesh a firm squeeze, kneading the plush globes like dough. this might be the first and the last time he has you in his bed, might make it memorable.

“such a perfect little peach,” he praises huskily, spreading you wide to expose your most intimate parts. cool air wafts over your heated flesh, making you shiver. gojo hums in approval at the sight of your dripping cunt, flushed and swollen with need.

he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. “look how wet you are for me,” he murmurs, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. you let out a soft moan, squirming under gojo’s intense gaze. his rough hands map out every dip and curve of your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. you arch into his caress, silently begging for more.

when he finally reaches your aching core, you buck your hips eagerly, desperate for friction. “please,” you whimper, voice high and needy. “i need—”

gojo cuts off your pleas with a sharp smack to your rear, the stinging impact making you yelp. “ah ah, none of that now,” he tuts disapprovingly. “you don’t get to tell me what you need, understand? it’s an honor y’know, for me to take your virginity, so you don’t get to tell me what you need.”

he punctuates his words with another firm swat, watching with rapt attention as your skin blooms pink under his palm. but even so, gojo couldn’t stop the spinning from his head, the sigh of you, the feel of your cunt tightly grip his needy cock making him all desperate and losing his shit to you, a fucking nerd all out of other girl.

gojo grins wickedly, clearly enjoying your predicament. he traces a finger through your soaked folds, gathering some of your essence on his digit before bringing it to his lips. he makes a show of licking it clean, savoring your unique flavor with a satisfied hum.

“mmm, you taste divine,” he purrs, voice dripping with lust. “like the finest nectar.”

gojo lines himself up with your entrance once more, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your slick opening. he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely breaching your entrance before pulling away again. your walls flutter around nothing, trying desperately to draw him in deeper.

“beg for it,” he demands huskily, giving your rear another firm smack. “let me hear how badly you want this cock.“ he grabs your hip, fingers bent to your flesh the way he drags you to the edge of his bed and your feet touching the cold tile.

his one arm sneaking down to your thigh, lifting it off the floor while the other hand relentlessly teases your needy cunt with the swollen tip of his cock— kissing your clit.

you writhe beneath gojo’s ministrations, a litany of needy whimpers and pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips. “please,” you beg shamelessly, too far gone to care about dignity. “gojo-kuuunn . . i need you inside me, filling me up. i can’t take it anymore!”

your hips buck frantically, seeking friction against his maddening teasing. you’re so empty, aching to be stretched and filled by his thick length. gojo just chuckles darkly at your desperation, continuing his torturous game. his chest raining with pride and happiness for taking your virginity, him, not another man. him.

“oh? and why should i give you what you want?” he taunts, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance without pushing in. “maybe i like seeing you like this— alllll spread out and begging so pretty for me.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, teasing kiss. “you taste sweet when you’re desperate like this,” he murmurs against your mouth, tongue flicking out to lick at your lower lip. “makes me want to devour you whole.”

he pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions. “but since you asked so nicely...” with a slow, deliberate push, he sinks into your heat, groaning at the velvety tightness enveloping his cock.

gojo pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within you. then, with a gentle roll of his hips, he begins to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm. he savors each drag of your slick walls along his shaft, relishing in the exquisite sensation of taking your virginity. his hand leaving another handprint on your ass, digging his dull nail into the skin.

a gasp tears from your throat as gojo finally sheathes himself fully inside you, the stretch both painful and exhilarating. you cling to the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as you acclimate to the foreign intrusion.

but as he starts to move, long, languid strokes that fill you to the brim, you begin to relax into the pleasure. a low moan escapes you, vibrations humming against gojo’s lips before your head falls to his bed. “ahh... yes... just like thaaat...”

your hips start to rock in tandem with his, meeting each thrust with eagerness. the sensations build rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. you can feel every ridge and vein of gojo’s cock as it slides against your inner walls, sending jolts of electric pleasure through you.

“more,” you breathe out, voice ragged with need, causing the man to leave your reddened ass to find your hair and take a fistful of the locks while the other arm tightens around your thigh, making a perfect symphony the way he pounds into you from behind.

gojo’s fingers dig into your scalp, tugging roughly at your hair as he pistons into you with reckless abandon. the bed creaks and shifts beneath the force of his thrusts, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your hearts.

gojo growls in approval, the sound muffled against your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his hips snap forward with renewed vigor, driving into you with a primal intensity that steals your breath away. the force of his thrusts sends the headboard thudding against the wall, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your heart.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he grits out between clenched teeth, his grip on your hair tightening almost painfully as he uses it to pull your head back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat. “i can feel every inch of you milking my cock. this cunt feels like heaven, fuuuck.”

gojo’s words are punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, the obscene sound only serving to heighten your arousal. his fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. the slight sting only serves to heighten your arousal, your body craving more of his dominance. gojo's other hand grips your thigh firmly, holding you steady as he pistons in and out of you with relentless precision.

your mind goes blank, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of gojo’s possession. every nerve ending is alight with sensation, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. you can feel yourself teetering on the brink, precariously close to the edge.

a hoarse cry spills from your lips as gojo hits that spot deep inside, the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes your vision blur and toes curl. “ahhh! oh god, right there!” you wail, hips bucking wildly to meet his punishing pace.

a sharp cry tears from your throat as gojo’s grip on your hair intensifies, the pain mixing deliciously with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. you arch your back, offering yourself up completely to his dominating touch.

“yes, oh god, just like that!” you moan, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “fuck me harder, gojo-kun!”

gojo’s eyes flash with triumph and possessiveness at your wanton cries, his grip on your hair and thigh tightening reflexively. he slams into you with renewed ferocity, the force of his thrusts rattling the bed frame and sending the headboard crashing against the wall.

“that’s it, scream for me,” he snarls, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he leans in close. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless.” gojo’s free hand snakes around to cup your breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. the dual sensations of his ruthless pounding and the pleasurable tug on your sensitive bud send you spiraling closer to the edge.

as if sensing your impending climax, gojo redoubles his efforts, pistoning into you with wild abandon. your world narrows down to the searing heat of gojo’s body, the relentless thrusts of his cock, and the intoxicating scent of sex that fills the air. you’re lost in a haze of pure, unadulterated pleasure, every fiber of your being focused on chasing that elusive peak.

the pressure builds and builds, coiling tighter in your core until you think you might burst. gojo’s harsh commands and the brutal pace of his fucking only serve to heighten the tension, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

with a keening wail, you finally tumble over the edge, your orgasm slamming into you like a freight train. your inner walls clench around gojo’s throbbing cock, rippling and fluttering as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

“fuck, fuuck! gojo-kun! ’m cumming, cumming!”

gojo lets out a guttural roar as he feels your pussy clamping down on his cock, the vice-like grip triggering his own release. with one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his seed erupting in powerful spurts as he fills you up.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he chants, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. gojo’s grip on your hair and thigh remains unrelenting, holding you in place as he marks you as his, claiming you utterly and completely.

overwhelmed by the intensity of your shared orgasms, you collapse onto the mattress the heartbeat his grasp on you loosened, your body still trembling with aftershocks. gojo’s continued pulsing inside you, coupled with the warmth of his release coating your insides, leaves you feeling utterly spent yet deeply satisfied.

as your breathing slowly returns to normal, you become aware of gojo’s hands gentling their hold on you, his fingers stroking soothing patterns on your skin. a soft, contented sigh escapes your lips as you melt into his touch, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter.

he leans forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed, his chest pressed against your back. his breath is still a bit ragged, but you can feel his strong, steady presence behind you. for a few moments, all you hear is the steady, calming sound of your combined breathing, the only indication that both of you are slowly recovering from the intensity of your shared passion.

after a few moments, gojo breaks the comfortable silence, his voice low and still slightly husky. “you okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing gently against the shell of your ear.

his hands slide down your sides, gently encircling your waist, his touch tender and light. the weight of his chest against your back is reassuring, and you can still feel the heat of his body radiating through your clothes. he shifts slightly, his chin resting on your shoulder, and you can practically feel his intense gaze on you, as if he’s silently assessing how you’re feeling.

a soft smile curves your lips at gojo’s gentle inquiry, your body relaxing further under his comforting touch. “mhm, i’m good,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly to rest against the soft material of his blanket. “just... really sated right now.”

you let out a contented little sigh, enjoying the warmth of his embrace and the intimate closeness of his body pressed against yours. slowly but surely, the feeling of his softened cock slipped out of your cunt, taking all of your cum and his down to your thigh and floor.

gojo chuckles softly in response, hearing the hint of satisfaction in your tired voice. he plants a soft, feather-light kiss on your neck, his lips lingering there for a moment. “that’s good,” he says, his voice laced with a hint of pride, “i’m glad i exhausted you that much.”

he pauses for a moment, his hands gently rubbing your sides, before speaking again. “need anything? water, a towel, or just... rest?” he asks, his tone genuinely concerned.

you let out a soft sigh, the tension of the past moments slowly melting away as you murmured, “just rest.” your voice was quiet, tired, and gojo, ever attentive, hummed in agreement, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a gentle kiss.

“say no less,” he whispered with that same reassuring tone, his arms immediately wrapping around you. he shifted you both onto the bed, pulling you into his embrace and letting you rest your head on his chest. his warmth surrounded you, grounding you at the moment, his heartbeat steady beneath you.

gojo made sure to cover both of you with the blanket, tucking it around your bare body with care, his movements slow and deliberate. despite the weight of the earlier events, his presence was steady, a soft contrast to the tension you’d felt before. outside of the bet, outside of the teasing, the games, and the complexities of it all, he seemed intent on giving you comfort—giving you the space to just rest, without further complications. his fingers gently traced circles on your back, a quiet reminder that, at this moment, there was nothing but a reason you were on his bed simply because of a bet— the bet he’s going to win.

gojo held you close, his arms encircling your body snugly under the soft warmth of the blanket. he continued tracing light circles on your back, the soothing repetitive motion a silent reassurance of his presence and care.

his chest rose and fell in a steady, calming rhythm, and you could feel the faint thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. his body offered a solid, comforting presence, grounding you in the aftermath of the eventful night.

gojo remained silent for several minutes, simply holding you close, his touch gentle and nurturing. after a few moments, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

he shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that both of you were more comfortable. his arms remained wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest, a silent promise of protection and comfort.

you simply nod.

gojo feels your nod, his lips curving into a small smile against your forehead. “good,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low.

he lets out a deep, content sigh, his body relaxing further into the bed, his arms still holding you close. his breathing slows, a steady, measured rhythm that seems to lull you into a sense of peace and security. the room is enveloped in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

gojo’s gaze softened as he looked down at your peaceful face, the soft rise and fall of your chest the only movement in the stillness of the room. he stayed like that for a while, just watching you, making sure you were fully asleep, your breathing steady and relaxed. he could feel the weight of the day, the tension from earlier, and he knew you needed this rest, even if you didn’t quite realize it yet.

once he was certain you were asleep, gojo's fingers slid beneath the pillow, pulling out his phone with careful movements. his smirk returned, a wicked gleam flashing in his eyes as he unlocked the screen and opened the camera. he took a quick snapshot, the sound of the shutter a soft click that was barely audible in the quiet room. his eyes flicked down to the picture, his smirk widening as he admired the photo of you, completely unaware, asleep in his arms.

“this is mine,” he muttered quietly to himself, the excitement of the bet reigniting within him. he knew he was going to win, and as much as he enjoyed this rare moment of calm with you, there was no denying the competitive streak that ran through him. he tucked the phone back under the pillow, settling back into the warmth of the bed, still holding you close, but his mind already racing ahead to the next step in his game.

gojo’s gaze remains fixed on you, admiring the innocent, vulnerable expression on your face as you sleep. he takes several more moments to just watch you, his gaze flickering over every detail of your face—the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the slight part of your lips as you breathe in.

he lets out a soft sigh, his fingers gently tracing your skin, his touch almost reverent. “god, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs quietly, the words slipping out involuntarily.

gojo’s eyes lingered on your peaceful, sleeping form, an unsettling mixture of admiration and satisfaction bubbling inside him. every detail of your face seemed to draw him in, each soft breath you took making his heart twist. he couldn't help but trace the curve of your cheek with his finger, as though savoring the image of you in your most vulnerable state. god, you're beautiful, he thought, the words slipping from his lips in a quiet murmur, but they were tinged with something darker.

as much as he tried to shake it off, a faint flicker of guilt gnawed at him. just a tiny sliver, a whisper in the back of his mind, reminding him of the bet, the cruel game he was playing with his friends. was this really what he wanted? to use you like this, to take advantage of your innocence, your trust, all for the sake of proving something to them? the thought scratched at his conscience, but it was fleeting, quickly drowned out by the more dominant, selfish part of him.

he couldn’t help it—he wanted to win. he wanted to show off, to prove that he was the one who’d conquered you first. the idea of rubbing it in toji, geto, and sukuna’s faces, seeing their reactions when he revealed that he was the one who’d claimed you, made his chest tighten with dark satisfaction. the guilt? it was easily buried beneath the hunger for victory.

monday couldn’t come soon enough.

sukuna leaned back, crossing his arms with a sly smirk as he glanced at gojo. “you’re so damn stupid,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “just get to the point, genius. we’re here to talk about the bet, not hear you babble on like an idiot.”

the mention of the bet caused a shift in the group. toji’s smirk sharpened, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward, clearly ready to pounce on whatever gojo had to offer. geto, normally the calmest of them, looked intrigued, his gaze steady and expectant. sukuna’s own smirk widened into a mocking grin, savoring the thrill of competition, ready to lay down his own proof and claim victory over the others.

he let the tension build, basking in the eager anticipation hanging thick between them. then, without further ado, sukuna reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and casually waving it in the air. “alright, boys. one... two... three,” he counted, then turned his screen toward the group with a triumphant look. displayed was a photo of you lying next to him, fast asleep, vulnerable and unguarded. sukuna’s smirk grew wider, reveling in the victory he thought was his.

as sukuna’s countdown reached three, he confidently pulled out his phone, an air of smug triumph around him as he turned the screen to reveal the photo of you, asleep in his arms, your peaceful face nestled against him. for a brief moment, he savored the victory, certain he’d be the one to claim the title. but as he looked up, expecting awe and frustration from the others, he found something else entirely.

geto’s face, usually so calm, had twisted into a look of sheer confusion, a frown creasing his brow as he looked down at his own phone, then up at sukuna, and back to his phone again. in his hand, on his own screen, was the exact same photo—down to every last detail. his jaw clenched, and he turned the phone towards sukuna without saying a word, letting the image speak for itself.

toji, who’d been leaning back with a predatory smirk, felt his confidence waver. he, too, checked his phone, and the smirk fell, replaced by a dark scowl. “what kind of joke is this?” he growled, his fingers gripping his phone tightly, a mix of anger and disbelief in his eyes as he flashed the identical photo.

and gojo, who’d initially met sukuna’s countdown with smug amusement, suddenly felt the blood drain from his face. he looked at his own screen, the same picture staring back at him, taunting him with an illusion of victory. his lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced at each of the others, his usual cocky grin now replaced with a frustrated grimace. “so… none of us won anything, huh?” he muttered bitterly, his voice low, laced with irritation.

a tense silence settled over them, their expressions twisted with disbelief and anger. each one felt the bitter sting of having been outsmarted, the pride and triumph they’d anticipated now twisted into something sharp and uncomfortable.

sukuna clenched his jaw, the victory he’d tasted turning to ash. “this is ridiculous. how the hell—” he began, but was cut off by toji’s dry, humorless laugh.

“guess none of us were as clever as we thought,” toji muttered darkly, his voice edged with anger and annoyance.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his pride deeply wounded. “tch,” he scoffed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “so we all lost? pathetic.” they sat in a tense, silent circle, each stewing in their own frustration and realizing they’d been played.

gojo let out a frustrated sigh, the realization of the situation sinking in. none of them had won, and worse, they'd all been tricked. he glanced again in your direction, a mix of irritation and confusion on his face. the realization that you, sweet and innocent as you seemed, had somehow outsmarted them all was a pill too hard to swallow.

“well, this is just great,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “we’re all idiots.”

the four men turned, spotted you a few benches away, looking completely at ease, chatting with none other than nanami. his composed, polished demeanor stood out even in the crowded cafeteria, and as you held your phone up to show him something, you looked every bit like you were sharing a private joke. they saw your face light up with that familiar, radiant smile as nanami rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, his expression softening in a way they rarely saw.

then, to their surprise, nanami sighed, pulling his wallet from his pocket and handing you a couple of bills. your smile grew even bigger, the kind of delighted, unguarded grin they’d each hoped to earn themselves. from a distance, they couldn’t make out what you were saying, but the playful exchange and easy familiarity between you both were clear as day.

their eyes widened when nanami leaned down, just slightly, his hand resting on your shoulder as he pressed a brief but gentle kiss to your lips—completely unfazed by the cafeteria full of students. the kiss was neither rushed nor hesitant, just natural and unapologetic. as he pulled away, he sent a pointed, almost warning glance in their direction, his gaze cold and unyielding, as if daring any of them to even think about challenging him.

you turned then, catching their gawking stares and raising the cash in your hand with a sly grin that practically dripped with triumph. they could only sit in stunned silence as you waved the money at them, your expression smug and knowing. your gaze lingered on them for a second longer, a little glint of mischief in your eyes, before you turned your attention back to your phone, completely unfazed by their reactions.

the four men sat there, speechless, their jaws hanging open in shock at the scene unfolding before them. they’d expected you to be meek and naive, unaware of their little bet. instead, here you were, giggling with nanami, a man known for his aloofness and strict nature, casually taking money from him in exchange for a kiss. your confident wave and smug smile only added to the shock.

toji was the first to snap out of it, his eyes narrowing as he watched you with a mixture of anger and surprise. “what the hell was that?” he sputtered, his voice strained.

sukuna’s face contorted with pure disbelief, a rare look of complete shock crossing his usual smug features. he couldn’t believe that the girl they’d all so casually thought they were playing had flipped the entire game on them. his jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he muttered under his breath, “unbelievable… she played us.”

toji, on the other hand, looked downright irritated, his expression darkening as he watched nanami give you that casual, easy kiss. his pride stung, and he forced out a low, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “so much for thinking she’d be easy to handle,” he growled. “guess we’re the ones who got handled.”

geto was silent, his usual calm mask slipping just enough to reveal the flicker of surprise in his eyes. he prided himself on being perceptive, but seeing you there with nanami, openly flaunting the victory they thought was theirs, left him speechless. his lips curved into a grudging smirk, though, as he muttered, “gotta hand it to her… didn’t see that coming.”

gojo felt his face flush with a mix of frustration and lingering embarrassment. he leaned back, running a hand over his face and letting out a soft, defeated chuckle. “well, this is just fantastic,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he watched you wave the money with that smug smile on your face. “we’re all idiots, and she knows it.”

the four men sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. they’d underestimated you, treated you like a naive little toy to be won, but you'd turned the tables on them. and the fact that you’d done it so effortlessly, with such a casual smirk on your face, only added to the collective sense of shock and irritation.

gojo, in particular, couldn’t shake off the burning sense of embarrassment. you’d made him look like a fool, and that stung. him, who was never one to be outplayed, felt a strange mix of anger and admiration at your audacity. it was both aggravating and irritating, but there was an undercurrent of grudging respect. you’d made all of them look like morons, yet there was something about your confidence, the way you casually took nanami’s money, that he couldn’t help but find intriguing.

gojo clenched his jaw, his own competitive nature burning within him. “that smug little…” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

geto shot him a bemused smirk, sensing the competitive fire flaring up in his friend. “looks like you’ve met your match, genius,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “and judging by the look on your face, you’re not handling it too well.”

lost in a whirlwind of shock and confusion, they barely noticed you approaching until you were standing right at their table, an amused, knowing smile on your lips. with a graceful, almost lazy flick of your wrist, you dropped a small stack of polaroids onto the table, each one falling face-up, showing exactly what they dreaded to see.

each photo captured the same damning image: them, fast asleep, completely unaware, while you sat on their waist, looking down with a mocking pout. your lips jutted out in an exaggerated, fake crying face, as if mourning their obliviousness. their faces, peaceful in sleep, were juxtaposed with your taunting expression, turning the tables in a way none of them could have expected.

toji’s eyes went wide as he flipped through the pictures, his smirk quickly fading to a tight-lipped grimace. sukuna’s jaw clenched, a flush of irritation darkening his cheeks as he processed the fact that you’d played him, all of them, so perfectly. geto let out a disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head, unable to hide a mix of amusement and frustration at your brazen boldness.

gojo, usually quick with a snappy comeback, could only stare at the photos, stunned into silence. he glanced up at you, his gaze a mix of admiration and disbelief. you’d outwitted them, effortlessly.

you leaned in slightly, resting one hand on the edge of the table, flashing them a wicked grin. “hope you enjoyed your little nap, boys,” you teased, your tone sweet but dripping with smugness. with one final smirk, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving them speechless, the photos in hand as a constant reminder of the game they’d lost to you.

[ruestheday]

one of the biggest lies the fandom will tell you is that alfred pennyworth is a good man.

he’s horrible. people just don’t realize he’s horrible because they’re all too focus on the superheros.

not many people in the fandom know this, but alfred literally has a daughter. her name is julia. why does no one know about julia? BECAUSE HE ABANDONED HER. it’s canon that he chose the waynes over his OWN CHILD. when she’s introduced in the comics she hates her dad because he abandoned her in england to raise a child that wasn’t even his.

the infamous jason “a good soldier” memorial? yeah, alfred did that. bruce wanted it taken down. alfred also left jason’s destroyed robin suit on display.

alfred is the reason tim is robin. dick and bruce are trapped by two-face and alfred just… gives tim a robin costume and sends him on his way. no formal training. no anything.

ever blame dick for damian becoming robin? wrong. it was alfred. dick was against it. alfred is the first one to give damian the robin costume, like he did to tim years before. dick did eventually choose damian as his robin, but that was while damian was ALREADY ROBIN. (he even tells tim that he doesn’t pick tim to be his robin because he considers tim to be an equal, not a sidekick, but i digress)

when bane breaks bruce’s back, alfred literally packs up and leaves. he travels. he just drops everything and goes to explore the world, until dick eventually hunts him back down.

it’s also a common theme that alfred couldn’t find the right balance between being a father figure and a butler, so he was constantly enabling bruce growing up (and still does) because technically bruce was his boss… even though he had custody of him.

edit: actually technically (in some runs) bruce’s uncle has custody of him but literally makes being absent an olympic sport But you get what i mean

edit two: fixed the spelling mistakes that text to speech tiktok made me aware of. u guys are fake for not telling me. anyways fuck ai content farm accs

[strawberryraviegutz]

Can we PLEASE be normal and agree that all kpop demon hunters ships are valid instead of shitting on/writing off ships and or thinking that a ship is a moral failing or “less progressive” just cuz said ships are m/f.

Are yall forgetting the target audience for this movie?? Like yeah the movie is for queer ppl too since there’s a queer allegory in the movie’s overall message and kpop fanbases having a huge queer community, but this movie also had in mind women and young teenage girls who obsess over kpop boy bands along with shipping themselves and or other kpop stars with said boy band members both male and female.

I still wanna enjoy hunterix yuri so bad bad because im a multishipper, but at the same time even as i was watching the movie I already knew ppl were gonna start shitting on Rujinu, zoestery, miromabby, and the Saja boys and the ppl who like these ships and the Saja boys as a whole and it’s leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

Hell even before the movie came out ppl were jumping this one person who made a ship post about Mira and Abby. And yes representation IS important but that doesn’t mean m/f ships should just be disregarded as “not progressive”.

When did we suddenly start deciding that a woman and a man being attracted to each other is a detriment to the feminist/progressive movement?? Like yall do realize that CisHet allies exist, right? You’re not automatically “more progressive” by shipping gay ships.

I’d argue it’s more misogynistic to send a message to women that if they’re attracted to and or want to have relationships with men then that means they’re a danger to the feminist/progressive movement or have “less value” which does nothing to help our movement at all and just ends up excluding other women which also goes against our movement.

Feminism and the progressive left movement as a whole is all about EQUALITY. Feminism quite literally involves helping men too because EVERYONE is negatively affected under the patriarchy.

Men may not be oppressed for being men but that doesn’t mean that the patriarchy doesn’t affect them negatively. Feminism isn’t men vs women, it’s everyone vs misogynists/the patriarchy. Also bold of u to assume that Rumi and Jinu are straight.

Considering the parallels to Rumi’s story and the way many queer ppl feeling about their own identities feeling like they need to hide themselves because of shame, it’s obvious that she’s not straight and could be bisexual. Just cuz a bi woman falls in love with a man doesn’t make her any less bisexual/queer.

And Jinu is a 400 year old demon. He probably had centuries to experiment along with the fact that queerness did exist in Korea and Asia as a whole and was a normal part of their cultures pre colonization hundreds of years ago and the same goes for the other Saja boys. Mira and Zoey can be attracted to girls too of course but them being shipped with men wouldn’t make them any less queer especially if the men in question are also queer.

Plus we all saw how all three of the hunterix members reacted when they first saw the Saja boys(especially Mira and Zoey who had LITERAL HEART EYES WHEN THEY LAYED EYES ON THEM. Along with Abby’s Abs continued to make their eyes do the popcorn thing 2 times later on in the movie and Mira literally calling them hot the first time.).

Any of the hunterx x Saja boys ships could quite literally be bi 4 bi or bi 4 pan(with the saja boys being pan with the reasons being my previous statement about them being over a hundred year old demons who had plenty of time to experiment.)

Why can’t we just agree to disagree and ship whatever we want without putting down/sending vitriol towards other ships and or the ppl who ship these ships?? We’re already in a low empathy crisis as is and yall are just making it worse. Focus that same anger and hatred yall put into sending hate towards ppl over pixels on a screen towards calling ur senators/reps about pushing back against the facist regime that the orange man is trying to plunge the US into.

Like seriously guys what will it cost u to not be an asshole to others for liking something that you don’t like? Get off your high horses and BE NICE TO EACH OTHER AND RESPECT ALL SHIPS.

[millermouth]

Chapter 1

series masterlist Summary: In the time between when he took you to now, something changed. His hands grew gentler. Your fear turned quiet. And somewhere in the stillness, love kindled. || angst, trauma, captor!joel, raider!joel, a little bit of dark!joel, kidnapping, dark themes, morally gray comfort, Pre-Boston QZ, slow burn, I know this is different than what I usually write but just hear me out okay, mentions of reader's body being thin / starved, promise she won't hate him forever ||

“Come here.” His voice commands. Though it’s…soft. Not cruel, not mean. Not anymore.

You move without hesitation, the old floorboards warm beneath your skin as you settle in front of him. The fire crackles before you—not roaring, not needed, but kept. For cooking, maybe. For comfort. For the hush it brings. Its glow paints you both in amber and shadow. His old armchair groans when he shifts, knees spread, a hand already reaching.

His fingers are warm and gentle when they gather your hair, no longer forceful or angry. The brush is missing bristles, its wood worn soft with time. He drags it through your hair from scalp to ends in slow, even strokes. It used to make your chest seize. Now, it soothes.

The brush catches slightly on a knot near the base of your skull. Your breath hitches. Slowly, his fingers work to ease it loose, and the fire shifts—another log settling into embers, sending a soft crackle through the room.

Your eyes stay locked on the flames as you exhale. They flicker and split, burning low and orange, lapping up dry pine with bursts of ember. You watch one flare brighter than the rest, then fade back down.

It’s calming, in a way. Destruction that doesn’t scream anymore.

You don’t scream anymore either.

“No!” 

“Stop fightin’ me, you stupid girl.” he said, hauling you inside the cabin. Your fingers scrabbled for the frame of the door, nails catching and tearing on splintered wood. It bit into your skin, but you held on anyway, fingertips screaming in equal protest as your lungs.

“Please!” 

You thrashed in his grip, every breath a sob.“I’ll be good—I swear—I swear—I won’t tell anybody, just—please—”

He slammed the door shut with his boot, and the sound echoed through the empty house like a warning. 

Then he dropped you.

Your knees hit the cold wood with a sharp crack that made you cry out again, but he didn’t flinch. He stepped around you, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the goddamn world. He set down his rifle next to the dusty chair, peeled off his gloves, and sat down. Dust exhaled into the air as he made himself comfortable, knees spreading as he sat forward.

“Come.”

You did no such thing.

“Please–” your voice broke as you cowered away, “please, just take me home. I won’t say anything. No one will come after you.”

His face turned cold, lip curling into a snarl as he reached forward for you, hauling you between his knees.

“No!” you yelped, bracing your hands on his shins. But to your surprise, he turned you around, your back to him as he held you by the hair. 

“Stay.” he said, voice deep and rough before releasing you.

He rooted through his bag until he pulled out a battered old hairbrush. You saw it coming and tried to move, but he yanked you back by the collar.

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

That stopped you.

The first pass of the brush was rough—tugging, catching, dragging through the nest of knots like they were punishments. You whimpered, tears falling down your face, but he didn’t pause. 

He kept brushing.

“You think they give a rat’s ass where you are, girl?” he grumbled, the brush catching on one especially nasty tangle. He tried to force the knot to loosen, your head snapping with every brush through.

“I saved you from those fuckers,” he growled.The brush yanked again and your breath hitched, a fresh tear tracking down your cheek.

“You took me,” you whispered, voice shaking.

The man didn’t answer right away. Another brutal pass through your hair. Another wince.

“I did what needed doin’.” he said, low and final. “You were already dead there. Damn skin and bones. They just hadn’t finished the job.”

You didn’t understand. Not really. Not then. You were too raw—scared down to your bones. His words were smoke in your ears. Meaningless. All you knew was the pain. The cold floor biting into your knees. The sharp tug of each stroke through your hair.

“You’re hurting me,” you whispered. Small. Barely there. 

But he paused.

His hand came to the nape of your neck, and you flinched—but he didn’t grab. Instead, he cupped your hair in his calloused palm, bracing it so he could brush again without jerking your head back anymore. It was still rough, but no longer violent.

Eventually, the brush stopped. You didn’t move besides the trembling in your body, tense in fearful anticipation.

He didn’t say a word. Just took your hair again, fingers scraping the back of your neck as he pulled it together. Goosebumps rippled across your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut.

The only sounds in the room were the pull of your hair being gathered and your own quiet sniffles, the rustling of his pack. He dug for something, muttering low under his breath as he pulled out a strip of some sort of material. He fastened your hair and let it drop back down onto your spine. Without thinking, you reached back to feel it. 

Your hair was pulled neatly into a three-plait braid, tied off at the end with some kind of string—maybe leather. Maybe cloth. It didn’t matter. It was tight. Secure.

Your fingers lingered over it, uncertain.

“Look at me.” His voice cut through the stillness—quiet, but sharp. It made your stomach lurch.

You stayed staring at the cold, empty hearth.

“Look at me, girl.” More firm now. A command.

You sniffled again before hesitantly looking over your shoulder. 

He was scary. Broad and thick and scarred. His worn, weathered face carved by years of hard living. There was a horizontal scar deep across the bridge of his nose. His jaw was clenched, the muscle twitching with restrained fury. There was a permanent crease between his brows, like the world had never given him a reason to relax.

He looked like violence wrapped in denim and flannel.

But God—He was beautiful.

Not soft, not safe. But striking in a way that made your throat tighten. His features were sharp and grounded, the kind of face you’d see in an old war photograph, kept in someone’s wallet long after the man was gone. There was something ancient in the set of his mouth. Something sad, maybe.

And his eyes. Hazel, a thousand colors flecked in them: gold, green, something earthy. For a moment, you wondered what they’d look like on a summer’s day. 

Then he pointed to the floor beneath you.

“This is your home now,” he said, voice cold and sure. “You run, you try anything—I will find you. If you don’t do as I say, there will be consequences. Do you hear me?”

You swallowed, breath shivering as his words soaked into your skin like ice water.

“When I speak, you answer, girl.”

Your lips parted. You couldn’t think. Could barely form sound. The fear was still there—thick, in your lungs—but underneath it, something else was rising. Something wrong.

“Please, sir,” you whispered. “Why are you doing this? Please take me home.”

His face didn’t change. But his eyes—they dimmed a little. Like you’d said something that hurt.Or maybe something he didn’t want to admit was true.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Just looked at you.

And then, quiet and final:

“I saved you.”

The minute he stepped into another room, you ran.

It didn’t matter that your feet were bare, already torn open from the icy ground and jagged underbrush of late winter. It didn’t matter that every root, every thorn, seemed hellbent on keeping you close—slashing, snagging, clawing at your legs like the woods themselves belonged to him.

It didn’t matter that you had no idea where you were.

When he’d taken you, your panic had been so complete, so loud, that he’d had to knock you out just to haul you over his shoulder. You remembered the swing of his elbow. The flash of sky. Then nothing. Just waking up at the edge of this old cornfield, body limp against his back as he brought you here.

But now—now your hands were outstretched, heart slamming in your chest as the tree line formed in front of you.

Freedom.Freedom!

You could almost taste it. Cold air in your lungs. Your braid whipping behind you, your knees buckling but still moving, still flying toward the shadows of the woods, the camouflage it would give you. Even if you got lost. Even if you died of frostbite. You’d take that over this. 

But fate had never been that kind to you.

A shadow surged behind you. Too fast. You didn’t even have time to scream before an arm looped tight around your waist, hauling you backward mid-step. Your body crashed against his hard chest, heavy breath, arms like chains locking you in place.

“Let me go!” you shrieked, thrashing in his grip. Your nails clawed at whatever you could reach—his arm, his coat, the skin beneath. “GET OFF ME!”

“Stop it—” his voice was a harsh bark in your ear. “Stop.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You threw your elbow back, aiming for anything that would give. You screamed like an animal, legs kicking, dirt flying beneath you.

Then your momentum shifted and he lost his footing. You both went down hard, bodies hitting the cold ground in a tangle of limbs and breath and fury. He landed on top of you, the weight of him knocking the air from your lungs. You tried to crawl forward, to squirm away, but his hand slammed against the dirt beside your head, pinning you there. His other arm looped under your chest, dragging you back into his body as you bucked and sobbed.

“Get off me!” you sobbed. “Let me GO! You’re a monster—you’re a fucking monster—”

“I told you not to run,” he snarled, face pressed to the side of your head. “I told you.”

You writhed harder, but he held you firm. His grip was bruising. His breath hit your cheek in hot, angry bursts.

“Dammit, girl. I told you not to make me do this.” he growled, and suddenly his weight was off of you, but as you tried to pull yourself up, something hit the back of your head.

And suddenly, there was nothing.

Your head throbbed.

Not just pain—a pressure. Like the inside of your skull was pulsing against your skin, trying to split itself open. A migraine made of lightning. Every breath sent a bolt of nausea down your spine.

You tried to move, to shift onto your side, but something stopped you short. Your arms tugged, and a scraping sound echoed beside you. Your wrists were bound, fabric biting at tender skin, looped through the cold metal bars of the rusted radiator beside you. One good yank and you’d dislocate something—but you tried anyway.

Panic flooded in like water through a crack.

You kicked, scrambled, your back pressing flat to the wall, shoulder blades scraping rough drywall. The room spun too fast, too bright, too loud, and your stomach turned as you realized the weight of the restraint wasn’t going anywhere.

You screamed.

It was a ragged, broken sound, high and wet and animal.

“LET ME GO!”

No one answered.

You screamed again anyway, throat raw, vision doubled, bile creeping into your mouth.

There was a mattress in the corner, no frame, no sheets. A chipped dresser near the boarded window. A dusty mirror leaning against the wall, turned away. This house was dead, abandoned, stripped of anything good.

You curled tighter into the corner, knees drawn up, arms pinned awkwardly by the ties at your wrists. Your breathing was shallow, rapid. You were crying and you barely realized it.

But above the sound of your shallow sobs, you heard something more terrifying. Heavy footfalls on the hardwood, floorboards creaking, and you flinched when the door opened. It creaked on warped hinges and let in a blade of silver light from the hallway.

He saw you curled there, eyes wild, lip trembling, and his mouth twitched—but it didn’t turn cruel. Didn’t even turn cold. It was something else. Weariness, maybe. Or guilt.

You hoped it was guilt.

“I brought food,” he said simply.

You lurched backward into the wall as he moved towards you with a tray in hand. Your legs kicked uselessly at the floorboards, and your voice exploded out of you before you could stop it.

“Don’t touch me!”

He didn’t. Just crouched low by the door, setting down a dented metal cup and a chipped plate. Bread. Dried meat. A few slices of canned peaches still glistening in syrup.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, slow and quiet.

“You did hurt me,” you spat, voice cracking. “You fucking hit me—!”

“I know.” His eyes didn’t leave yours. “I’m sorry about your head. I brought some painkillers.”

You didn’t believe a word of his sorries. But your eyes were already on the cup of water. Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You hated him. You hated him. But you were so thirsty it felt like your chest was full of sand.

He picked up the cup, took a long sip, then held it out to you.

“Not poisoned,” he said quietly, holding it toward you.

You didn’t move. Just glared. But your hands were bound, you couldn’t take it. So he inched closer, slow like approaching a scared animal.

“I’m gonna bring it to your mouth. Understand?”

You said nothing, but he moved anyway.

The rim touched your lips. You almost jerked away. But then—your tongue worked before your mind did, poking out to touch the cold of the rim of the cup. You nearly let out a sigh of relief, your mouth opening and throat soothing. The water was lukewarm and a little metallic, but it was clean. You drank, coughing halfway through but gulping it anyway.

When you finished, he set the cup down and picked up a slice of bread.

You clamped your jaw shut.

There was a long pause. He sighed, setting down the food again.

“What’s your name?”

Your head throbbed harder as your teeth clenched. He sighed again.

“I tied you up ‘cause I had to,” he said. “You ran. You wouldn’t listen.”

You didn’t respond. You just rolled your eyes, tears shining there, looking out into the sky that beckoned to you out the windows.

“You can live here,” he continued, voice quieter. “We can live here. It’s quiet. Ground’s good for crops. Don’t think this area gets many Infected. Found a well, too.”

Then his voice hardened slightly, just enough to cut through the quiet.

“But there are rules, girl.”

Your head snapped toward him. Your eyes locked with his in a glare that was wet and burning. His gaze didn’t flinch. There was no cruelty. Just seriousness. Like he was stating the facts of gravity.

“You don’t run. You don’t fight me. And you don’t lie.”

You swallowed dryly, throat raw. Then he started to stand, turning away from you.

Your voice stopped him. Barely a whisper. “Are you going to…”

The words died before they could reach your lips. Your stomach knotted hard, rising with nausea. You knew what you were asking. You just couldn’t say it.

He paused, back still to you.

“I ain’t gonna touch you,” he said. “Not unless you ask.”

And something in you snapped.

Your foot lashed out, catching the plate. It skittered across the floor and slammed against the toe of his boot with a loud, hollow clatter.

“Don’t go counting the days, asshole,” you snarled. “I’m not your fucking pet.”

He sighed. Not angry. Just tired. He crouched to pick up the plate, glancing back at you one last time.

“The name’s Joel,” he said quietly, and then added, “Goodnight.”

You didn’t eat.

Not the first day, or the second. He did move the mattress from the opposite corner to underneath you, though. And brought you a blanket. Small comforts. You still hated him for all of it.

He kept bringing you food—bread, dried fruit, whatever he could find—but you stared at the far wall, your lips tight, your arms limp at your sides. The knot at your wrists chafed worse now. The fabric was stiff with blood. But you didn’t complain. You didn’t speak. You wouldn’t give him that.

You were tired, but not hungry. Not for anything he brought you.

On the third night, he opened the door again. This time, the smell hit you before he even spoke.

Roasted meat. Maybe rabbit or deer.

Your stomach cramped violently, and you hated it. Hated the way your body responded, hated the betrayal of saliva in your mouth. You hated him. More than ever.

Joel crouched beside you, setting down a plate and a tin cup. You didn’t look at him.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then: “You’re not starvin’ yourself,” he muttered. “Not here.”

You clamped your jaw shut, but your stomach groaned in betrayal.

The scent from the plate was thick and nauseating from your intense hunger. The meat smelled like it was cooked in its own fat, crisp at the edges, seasoned with something smoky and wild. It smelled like life. It smelled like care.

You didn’t move. Then suddenly, the mattress shifted beneath you.

Joel’s hand grabbed your face. And not gently.

His fingers dug into your cheeks, tilting your head back hard enough to make your neck pop. You squirmed, instinct kicking in, but your hands were tied, and his grip was firm.

You snarled, a sound more beast than girl.

Joel’s face was close now. Too close. His voice was rough and low and full of something tight.

“You wanna die here?” he snapped. “You think that’s gonna prove something?”

You tried in vain to shake your head out of his grasp, but he was stronger.

“I ain’t gonna let you waste away ‘cause you’re feelin’ proud. You hear me?”

He grabbed a piece of meat off the plate and God, it looked so juicy, still steaming, and shoved it toward your mouth.

You fought it. Lips closed, jaw locked.

“Open.”

You didn’t.

Then his voice broke, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t make me do this.”

It was the way he said it. Like he wasn’t angry anymore, just tired. Like he was pleading, but didn’t know how.

You went still.

Slowly, shaking and furious, you opened your mouth.

He slid the food between your lips.

You chewed as tears stung your eyes. The flavor hit your tongue and your body melted around it. It was good. It was so good it hurt.

You hated him for it. Hated him for making you want the next bite. But when he offered it, you took it, lips barely grazing the tips of his fingers. He released your face as you accepted more. He fed you in silence, one bite at a time. Like you were something fragile. Like you might break in his hands.

When the food was gone, he lifted the tin cup to your lips. You drank.

Then you leaned back against the wall, chest heaving like you’d outrun something you couldn’t see. The plate was empty, the ache in your belly softer now.

Joel wiped his hands on his jeans and sat back across from you.

He didn’t speak. There was no smirk, no gloating, just those unreadable eyes on you. And for the first time, you felt something in your chest uncoil. It might not have been warmth or safety, but it was a kind of stillness.

Like surrender. Like a storm just passed.

“I’m gonna boil some water for a bath, alright?” he said, voice low, softer than it had any right to be. He stood slowly, the plate now empty between you. He watched you for a beat longer than you liked, then turned toward the door.

Your eyes followed him as he moved, as he reached for the knob. And before you could stop yourself—before you could remind yourself not to care—you spoke.

“Why are you doing this?”

He paused.

Didn’t turn around. Just looked out the small window beside the old door frame, face lost in shadow.

For a moment, you thought he might answer. But then his hand fell to the knob, turned it, and he stepped out without a word. You sat there, silent. Drowsy.

The food in your belly settled heavy and slow, a warmth you despised your body for enjoying. It made your eyelids heavy, your thoughts fogged. You were still tied, still bruised—but your body was full for the first time in days. Maybe weeks, really.

By the time he came back, you couldn’t even summon the energy to fight. The bindings at your wrist tugged gently as he pulled you to your feet, his grip firm around your forearm.

“Come on now,” Joel murmured. “Nice and easy.”

The hallway was dim. The floor cold under your bare feet. He guided you with careful pressure, down a few steps and into a narrow bathroom—walls faded yellow, mirror cracked in the corner, clawfoot tub steaming gently in the center of the room.

That’s when your mind caught up. You realized what this meant.

You stiffened. Began to squirm, breath picking up fast. He caught your movement instantly, hands tightening just enough to still you.

“Hey.” His voice dropped low in warning.

“I’m gonna untie these, alright?” He nodded toward your wrists. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You opened your mouth—panic sparking again—but he cut you off, though not unkindly.

“I’m leavin’ you in here. Alone. Against my better judgment.”

That made you pause.

Your eyes met his—wide, wary. And again, he looked so much bigger. You thought of how easily he’d thrown you over his shoulder. How quickly he’d knocked you down in the woods. How he could still do it now, even tired, even softened.

You swallowed, but eventually you nodded.

“You’ll be good?” he asked.

Your voice came out small. “I’ll be good.”

His gaze held yours for a second longer, like he was searching for the truth in it.

Then his hands softened and he began to untie you. The rope fell away from your wrists with a soft tug. Your skin stung where it had rubbed raw, but you didn’t look down. You could barely will your body to move.

Joel straightened.

“I’ll be right outside,” he said. “Don’t make me come in after you.”

And then he left.

The door shut behind him, and you stood there, breathing. Still.

Steam curled in the cold air, and the smell of the soap, old, sharp, something like cedar, lingered near the tub. Your fingers ached. Your knees were stiff. But the water…

It looked so inviting.

You stepped in slowly after you undressed, the warmth biting at your skin in the best way. It climbed up your calves, over your thighs, and then you sank into it—sighing before you could stop yourself. Like your body had given in before your heart could.

The soap was just a sliver, set beside the tub in an old chipped dish. You picked it up with shaky fingers and began to scrub—at the dirt, the blood, the sweat from days of fear.

You didn’t cry. You just kept washing. Kept breathing.

Kept wondering why it felt more like being forgiven than being cleaned.

The soap slipped from your fingers and clattered softly against the porcelain edge of the tub. It echoed in the small room like a slap.

That was when your shoulders started to shake.

At first, it was just a breath. A short, sharp inhale that caught in your throat like something you'd forgotten to swallow. Then another. And another. Until your chest was heaving, and the tears were falling before you could stop them.

You pressed your face into your hands. Tried to muffle the sound. But the sob escaped anyway—wet and broken, punched straight from your lungs like a wound torn back open.

You hated him.

God, you hated him.

You hated how he fed you, how he touched you gently like it made any of this okay. Yes, he’d been rough with you at first—grabbed too hard, snapped too fast, yanked you around like you were a problem to solve instead of a person. But that was before. Before you began to understand him better. Before his cruelty dulled into silence, into careful hands and fewer threats. Before the rhythm of the house made space for you. He let you bathe. Gave you warmth. Let you sleep on a mattress like you were some stray dog he’d half-decided to care for.

You hated how your body was starting to believe it was safe here.

You curled tighter into the water, forehead resting against your knees as the tub slowly cooled around you. Steam faded into the air. The silence pressed against your ears.

And in that silence, you made a promise.

The second he leaves you alone again, you’ll go. No plan, no food, no map—just go. Even if it kills you.

Better to die in the trees than stay in this house and forget what the outside felt like.Better to be free for one breath than trapped for the rest of your life.

You wiped at your eyes with the edge of your palm and sat up straighter.

No more crying.

You would play along. You’d dry off, let him lead you back to that corner, let him tie your wrists again if he had to. You’d nod. You’d keep your voice soft.

And the second he trusted you—

You’d run.

[undyingdecay]

hii do u write for cheating? i was thinking something like reader having a bf that bob doesnt like and he gets possessive over u clouding ur head with things yk? & ofc it gotta be smut 😝

(cw: reader is manipulated, cheating, mentions of past non-con touches)

i think bob is very unintentionally manipulative, or maybe he does know and that the worst part. somewhere under all that shaky, soft-spoken shit he wears like armor is a man who knows exactly how to get what he wants from you. maybe it started out innocent. a stupid coincidence. you, reaching for the same half-wilted potted plant at some corner market in the late afternoon, your fingers brushing his, and he gave you that dumb little half-smile, eyes soft, like it mattered. like you mattered.

and maybe it could’ve been nothing. but maybe it would’ve been everything if it weren’t for him. your boyfriend.

you don’t get nice, easy things. not the way you were raised, not the kind of men you keep falling for. it doesn’t help that your boyfriend’s the kind of asshole that disappears for days at a time, coming home smelling like booze. it doesn’t help that he calls you things, cruel little jabs that hang around in your stomach long after the apology’s worn off. he’ll yell, slam doors, and then sit on the couch like nothing happened.

and bob, well… bob never liked him.

he never said it, not really. but it was in the way he’d frown when you mentioned his name, in the tight little twitch of his jaw when you showed him a text you thought was funny. in the way he’d gently, gently cloud your head, planting things you didn’t even realize were seeds until they started to bloom. “y’know you deserve better, right?” “if you were mine, i wouldn’t leave you waiting like that.” “can’t believe he’d say somethin’ like that to you.”

you thought it was sweet. harmless. and then you cried, cried at bob's soft words, cried about how true they were. and he was there to comfort you, asking him why things couldn't be that way, why your boyfriend couldn't be more like him.

perfect, now the emotional aspect is out the way.

because bob’s possessive in this ugly, simmering way that sneaks up on you. the kind that doesn't scream or throw punches. no — it festers. it’s in the way his hand lingers on your wrist a second too long when he passes you something. in the way his gaze settles, heavy and burning, when your phone lights up with your boyfriend’s name. in the soft, almost embarrassed way he mutters, “wish you’d just stay over.”

and you do.

you do because it feels easy. it feels safe. and maybe you hate yourself for it later, but god — the way he touches you? like you’re something breakable. like you’re already his. 

you don’t even remember how you ended up in his bed. not really. one minute you were sitting on that ratty old couch of his, the one with a threadbare blanket always thrown over the back, some mindless movie flickering in the background. the next, it was late — too late to head home, and bob had given you that look. the one that made your stomach knot up and your heart stutter, equal parts pity and something much darker.

“you should just stay,” he’d mumbled, like it wasn’t the hundredth time he’d said it, voice low and thick with something you didn’t wanna name. like he was embarrassed to ask but physically incapable of letting you leave.

and so you did. you always did.

he made you feel wanted in this quiet, careful way your boyfriend never had. not with slammed doors and liquor-soaked apologies. bob called you pretty. sweetheart. looked at you like you hung the stars.

and maybe you were eak for it. maybe you liked it too much.

which is how you end up like this — curled up in his bed under soft sheets that still smelled like his skin, his long fingers splayed over your stomach, dragging idle circles over your shirt. a movie’s still playing but neither of you are paying attention. it’s too quiet, thick with the kind of tension that makes your breath catch. bob’s staring at the ceiling like he’s working something out in his head, and you know that look. you’ve seen it before — when he wants something but won’t ask. when it’s eating him alive.

and then his hand dips lower.

just barely, fingers brushing over the waistband of your sleep shorts, and your whole body tenses because you know better. you know better. you shouldn’t let him.

but it’s him. it’s bob.

so when those same fingers press against your cunt through the thin fabric, palm cupping you gently like he’s testing the weight of it in his hand, you don’t pull away. not at first. you make this tiny, broken little sound, a soft whimper that makes his breath hitch and his eyes snap to yours. he looks guilty — but not enough to stop.

your voice breaks when you manage a, “n-no, i… i don’t cheat.”

and he sits up, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, and you can see the panic there for a second, the way his throat bobs when he swallows. “he’s cheated on you,” bob says, voice barely above a whisper, and it sounds desperate now, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “i know he has. don’t lie to me, you told me. you cried on my fuckin’ couch about it.”

your chin wobbles. your stomach hurts.

“two wrongs don’t make a right,” you breathe, the words feeling too thin in your mouth, brittle and weightless because you already know it doesn’t matter. not with the way bob’s looking at you — like you’re the last good thing in his rotten little world and he’ll be damned if he lets someone else ruin it.

“he doesn’t even make you feel good,” bob says, softer now, coaxing, like this is something inevitable and you just haven’t accepted it yet. his hand’s on your back now, rubbing slow circles, grounding you in a way that feels more dangerous than reassuring. “last week you told me he didn’t even make you cum. made you fake it and he didn’t fuckin’ notice.”

you wince. you hate that he remembers. you hate that you said it at all.

“just… just imagine it’s him, yeah?” he says quietly, eyes so soft you could drown in them. “it don’t mean nothin’. ‘s just touch, please. s’not like we haven’t been doin’ this already. in that case you've already cheated, what's one more time?” then he stops, he looks like hes about to fucking cry "'m so hard, please?"

and you want to tell him no, that this isn’t right, that you can’t — but he’s already got your hand in his, thumb stroking over your knuckles like a promise, his lips brushing your temple, and it feels too good. too safe.

so you don’t stop him.

not when he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and drags them down slow, like he’s afraid you’ll stop him but too greedy not to try. not when his palm slides back between your thighs and finds you already wet, slick and warm against his fingers, and he lets out this small, wrecked little sound like he’s in pain over it.

“wanted you for 's long, been so good for you,” he mumbles against your ear, breath hot and ragged, one thick finger sliding through your folds, gathering it up and spreading it around with these lazy, unhurried strokes. “you're gonna let me have it right?”

you choke out a little whimper and your hips jerk when the pad of his finger catches your clit, rubbing slow, steady circles that make your thighs tremble. it’s nothing like how your boyfriend touches you, how the fuck are you supposed to think about him. no rough, half-done, get-it-over-with fumbling. bob touches you like you’re breakable. like it matters. like he’s trying to memorize every sound you make.

and then he’s easing a finger inside you, thick and curling just right, his other hand gripping your thigh and pulling it over his lap to spread you open for him. you’re already clenching around him, the stretch making your head spin, and bob groans, rocking his hips against the bed like he can’t help it.

“keep going,” you breathe, voice wrecked and needy. in return bob gives a boyish little proud smirk and a nod, all too submissive for someone who's pounding their fingers in you.

you can’t even tease him about it, too busy grinding against his hand like some desperate thing, your cunt squeezing around his finger as he adds another, fucking them into you nice and slow. it’s filthy — the wet slick sound of it filling the room, your breathy little moans getting sharper every time he brushes that spot inside you.

“been thinkin’ about this every night,” he murmurs, thumb circling your clit in time with the steady thrust of his fingers. he bites his lip, like he nervous before speaking “once— when you were over i fingered you in your sleep, just to see. but you're not mad right—promise me you arent.”

you gasp and before you can even fucking answer with a strangled little cry, hips jerking your cumming on his fingers, thighs shaking around his wrist, bob groaning low as he fucks you through it, keeps his fingers working you until you’re whimpering and trying to squirm away from the overstimulation.

he doesn’t stop. not right away.

leans in and kisses your temple, your cheek, your lips — soft, desperate things like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets you go.

“mine,” he whispers against your mouth, so soft you almost miss it. “always been mine.”

(I AM A WHOREEEE HOW DID THIS GET SO LONG)

[kaxserlvr]

Toxicbf!kaiser who always puts soccer above you. He doesn’t think twice cancelling dates for training or matches if it would mean becoming the best.“You should’ve known what you were getting into”

Toxicbf!kaiser who avoids serious discussions. He hates emotional confrontations, can’t handle them and will dodge it or dismiss it completely. “We’re doing fine, why ruin the atmosphere?”

Toxicbf!Kaiser whose ego is his biggest flaw. He will constantly prioritise himself and make you an afterthought not an equal completely disregarding your feelings . May even seem like he’s looking down on you. “You should feel lucky you’re with me”

Toxicbf!kaiser who doesn’t apologise. Even when he knows he’s in the wrong(which is rare lol) he’d prefer to straight up ignore it or buy expensive gifts in hopes you’ll forget. He hates the feeling of being vulnerable.

Toxicbf!Kaiser when you start to pull away from him will act like it doesn’t bother him(it does). He thinks you’re just trying to get a reaction from him, he’d call it “cute” He fully thinks you’ll come back(until you dont)

Toxicbf!Kaiser who feels something disgusting stir in him when he sees you talking to someone with a smile you no longer show him. He suddenly has a strong urge to be near you to show you’re his glaring at the person.” Are they bothering you,hm?”

Toxicbf!kaiser who starts to panic when he realises you’re genuinely getting tired of him. He’ll try to act like it doesn’t bother him but starts to notice how you don’t wait up for him at night, you dont try to start small chats, you no longer look at him,you no longer send him cute messages on how he’s doing. He’s starting to sound desperate.”Talk to me” “where are you?”

Toxicbf!kaiser who uses anger as a defence. He’ll try to blame you for his issues since it’s hard for him to take the fault. Truth is beneath all the anger is fear-fear of losing the one person that makes him feel something. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna give up on me?”

Toxicbf!kaiser who finally breaks and apologies. Seeing you slip away for good causes him to drop the act. No more looking down,no more games. He looks desperate and his usual cocky voice is replaced by something quieter “I’ve never done this…I- I don’t know how to be…I don’t want to loose you..” hed swallow his pride and admit he’s wrong if it means not losing you “I know I messed up and should’ve treated you better..I’m sorry”

Toxicbf!Kaiser who’d give you space but still be available. Texting you so he can remember you’re still here “have you eaten?” “What did you do today?”

If you choose to leave him for good …he’d take it hard and he wouldn’t be the same. Hed spend most of his time on soccer to try forget everything and his emptiness. It does pay off as he improves even more and becoming the best of the best but when he scores the winning goal and everyone cheers for him he instinctively looks for you in the crowd-to see your not there-he realises how bad he lost

But if you choose to give him a chance…you can see he’s nervous he will mess up again by the way he fidgets more around you. You two would have a talk and Kaiser would open up about his fears and insecurities he’s had and hed promise to work on himself and you promise to help communicate more so you guys can grow from this for the future.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis, Ch 5 Part 2

masterpost shhhh migraine, hell week, worked like 14 hours yesterday. no editing please <3

Kon leaned against the open door frame between the hall and kitchen. He watched Lois peel an apple with practiced ease; Jon hated apple skin. Kon had no idea where Jon got that from, considering Clark would eat most things and Lois was snacking on the peel as she worked.

“Need anything, honey?” Lois asked without taking her eyes off the apple and the sharp knife in her hand.

The nickname always made Kon feel equally warmed and uncomfortable. Honey—someone Lois cared about. She had cared since about fifteen minutes after she’d met him. The first fifteen she’d spent chewing Clark out.

Kon cleared his throat. “Yeah. I actually wanted to ask you for some advice, if you’ve got a moment.”

“Welcome to my parlor, pull up a chair,” Lois said with a grin. “Want an apple slice?”

“Sure.” Kon took the offered slice and went to lean against an open spot of counter. He took the excuse of eating the snack to try and gather his thoughts. “So, um, what sort of activity is good for a first date with someone you already know?”

Lois almost fumbled both the apple and the knife with how quickly she spun to look at him. “No! Really? Who made the move first, you or Danny?”

Kon crossed his arms. “That obvious?”

“Honey, you forget I fell for a Midwestern dork myself, I know what that looks like,” Lois said as she motioned with the knife. “Besides, you were cuddling with him. You only let your group cuddle with you and even then you shove them off half the time.”

Kon opened is mouth to protest, but couldn’t actually find any words to defend himself with so he just frowned.

“Well?” Lois asked with a teasing smile. “Who made the move?”

“Me,” Kon grumbled. “A little one, but then Danny made me talk about it, and I maybe kissed him.”

“Look at you go! Proud of you, kid,” Lois said.

Which was a surprise.

“…yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I said, it was clear that you were sweet on him. It’s too easy to do nothing about a crush. I’m proud that you did something about it,” Lois said. It sounded true.

“I… thanks,” Kon said. He rubbed at his cheek. “But I don’t know what to do for a date. Dates weren’t exactly something that Lex had downloaded into my brain like math.”

“I wouldn’t trust anything that Lex thought about dates anyways,” Lois said dryly.

Kon thought abut that for a moment. “Yeah, okay, true. But that still doesn’t help.”

“We’re getting there!” Lois said and tossed another piece of apple at him.

He caught it and munched on it as a way to stay quiet.

“A movie date is still a classic,” she said. “But if Danny is feeling better, there’s always bowling or roller skating. There’s this grate place—I did a story on the women there once—that’s a roller derby rink but when there aren’t matches, it’s just a place to skate. They use the funds to help pay for the team, but it’s also set up to be a safe place for queer teens and young adults to hang out at. That might be something fun.”

Kon thought about it. “…that could be fun, yeah. Do you remember the name of it?”

Lois shook her head as she piled all the apple splices onto a plate with some cheese slices. “Not off the top of my head, but I can pull it up at work tomorrow and text you to it, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Kon said and stole a slice of cheese. “We wouldn’t do anything before Friday anyways, bit chem test coming up.”

“Ugh, chem, please tell me you don’t need any help with that one.”

“Nope, that I did get downloaded into my brain,” Kon said with a grin.

“Well, about time Lex did something useful,” Lois joked as she headed off to find Jon with the snack plate. “Other than making you I mean, honey!”

Kon ducked his head an rubbed at his cheek. Under his breath he mumbled, “…thanks, Mom.”

[xxiiam]

Unpunishable

Contents - dbf!joel x fem! Reader , Jackson! Joel , relationship established but no label on it , age gap but no specific ages you’re an adult but Joel still doesn’t see you as an equal , mean-ish Joel , boot riding , two pussy slaps , size kink if you squint , daddy kink, joel always too soft on you in the end, unprotected sex, creampie , fingering, joel is huge

Wk - 2.835k

Authors note - you can imagine this as game joel or hbo joel i don’t really care need both , need dbf joel need dbf joel need dbf joel. Inbox always open reblogs and comments always appreciated. Female perverts rise

The clock had hit 7:00 pm and still no sight of joel he said he’d be home at 6:30 and would make you both dinner . You just waited , reading . You got so bored you even started inspecting all of the tchotchkes and Knick knacks Joel had collected over the years. Nothing of interest to you. Then you heard the gate close so you rushed to the window opening the drapes to see joel walking up the small path to your shared home.

You turned on your heels rushing to the door sliding on the wooden panels as you bounced on the balls of your feet waiting for the door to open. Joel walked in tired eyes meeting yours , “someone’s excited to see her old man” his gruff voice spoke out as he slid his thick jacket off and hung it up on the coat hook. “I am! I’ve been waiting- you’re late daddy.. M’hungry” you said toddling towards joel and were greeted by his large rough , calloused hand on your cheek . Thumb stroking back and forth before he smoothed over your hair , “‘m sorry sweetheart , you did your hair real nice ‘nd pretty for me today” his eyes trailed down landing on the short flowy dress you had on littered with floral patterns . Joel always liked you in floral dresses, “even dressed nice for me too? What’s the catch? You wantin somethin?” He smiled as his hands travelled to your waist smoothing out the dress .

You shook your head but a grin was plastered on your lips , “no no just wanted to look pretty for you when you got home, missed you. Felt lonely , I always feel lonely when you go out on patrol I have no one to talk to nothing to do”

He sighed smile being wiped off of his face , joel hated talking about this . He just wanted to keep you safe in the house , safe from the outside although you lived in a nice community you weren’t too sure what he meant by that. But he often scolded you saying “adults know best” although you too were an adult.

“We’re not talkin about this again when you’re older you’ll realise I’m doin all this for your benefit” his voice was stern it was more him talking at you than to you. You frowned , “I am older , I’m not asking for much maybe you can talk to the lady at the bakery and ask if I can help out I just want something to do I don’t like being cooped up in here all alone.” He removed his hands from your waist and just walked past you to the kitchen to start making food. Ending the conversation. Joel hated when you walked away from him during conversation but had no problem doing it himself.

Dumbfounded you stood there for a moment , why did he always treat you like this? Leaving you in the dark about so many things you weren’t stupid you just wanted to feel like an adult. You soon followed him into the kitchen sitting down at your retrospective designated place at the table, “you always tell me it’s rude to walk away when someone is speaking to you” . His back was still turned away from you , “you want me to start treating you’re a big girl? Start actin like one instead of a spoiled brat. You don’t know how good you have it here” . You stammered for a moment but joel didn’t actually let you speak before continuing , “you forget to set the table today. You say yer bored , got nothin to do . I ask you to do simple things around the house and I don’t see you doing nothing just day dreamin all day”

Your fists balled on the table out of protest you wouldn’t actually do anything you and Joel both knew it was performative. “I jus’ forgot that’s all” . He didn’t respond he just continued cooking 30 minutes of silence is what he gave you. Until he set your plate down on the wooden table . Joel knew you hated silent treatment. You just hated not knowing what you did wrong and why he wasn’t speaking to you. You just moved the food around your plate with your fork watching him eat. “Stop playin’ with your food nd just eat it.” He ordered his mood still sour, “not hungry” , he clicked his tongue and set his fork down staring at you , anger very present in his face. You were teetering on a thin line and you knew consequences would be in due. “You told me not thirty minutes ago you were hungry said you’d been waitin all day now you’re sayin you’re not? And you say you’re grown , you’re this and that but act like this whenever things don’t go your way?”

“Why are you being mean to me today?” You pouted staring at your food , you were hungry but you just were too upset to eat it. “I’m not . I just don’t like your attitude change it or I’ll fix it for you” he said standing up and putting his finished plate in the sink. Washing and wiping his hands with a rag. He turned around again clearly making himself more and more angry thinking about how stupid this situation is , but you still spoke up . “I just missed you nd you’re being mean to me” your tone sounding more and more childish although you didn’t mean it to be. You were just upset maybe joel was right.

He walked over to your seat pulling it back , “knees” he commanded you just stared at him blankly , “I won’t ask again” he spoke his eyes were dark , in all honesty you had done your hair and dressed nicely for him hoping he would fuck you good after dinner so you could go to bed with a full stomach and stuffed with his cum.

You slowly got to your knees from the chair , you reached to start unbuckling Joel’s belt but he swatted your hand away , “no you say you missed your daddy? Prove it” he looked down to his boot , you looked down to his boot then back at him , “how do I prove it?” . He flipped up your dress using his boot before sliding his left leg forward towards your knees , “go on” . Your cheeks began to heat up , felt embarrassing being told to hump his boot like some kind of dog. But you wrapped your arms around Joel’s leg and hovered over his boot . Joel usually had patience but not today he lifted his foot so the boot met your cunt , it felt wrong . Bad . But the pressure felt so good. You began to roll your hips down onto his boot, the hard shoe adding pressure to all the right places.

You gripped his muscular leg harder as you tried to chase some sort of high , Joel usually would help you , says you don’t know what you’re doing but you trying things on your own felt good too. “Daddy.. I want more, boots not like your cock” you pouted hoping to have this one over Joel on most nights this would’ve worked but not tonight . “You’re lucky I’m even lettin you do this. I could’ve just sent you to bed, empty stomach and untouched pussy. I know you’ve been waitin all day to be touched. Achin’ for it aren’t you?” He was still angry with you but you were his baby he knew you couldn’t sleep properly without being touched .

You nodded , “need my daddy” your hips stuttered as you continued to grind down on him , pussy leaking through the cotton panties you had on soaking his shoe . Your small whimpers filling the otherwise silent room , Joel’s patience was wearing thin he palmed his hardening cock through the denim . A part of him really loved how pathetic you were at times only could get off with his help he always needed to help you. He gripped your arm with a bruising grip pulling you up leading you to the living room . “Can’t do anythin for yourself” he said sitting down on the couch his legs parting he held his hand up stopping you from sitting down , “take it all off for me honey” you just nodded as you started to undress in front of him before standing awkwardly barren and naked for his eyes to coast over you .

He patted his thighs , “come sit let daddy take care of you” . You smiled crawling onto him he turned you so your back was facing him and he slid his rough hands down your sides . Bringing one arm over you cupping your breast in one hand pulling you back into him as he slid his hand down and cupped your sex before lifting it and coming down with a swift slap which you yelped at the sting lingering as he smiled against your neck pressing a kiss down onto your shoulder , “shhh baby I know I know I’m being mean” he began circling your clit using the pads of his middle and ring fingers before trailing down your slit collecting all of your slick wetness and spreading it up your cunt , “this wet from grinding on my boot? You did miss daddy didn’t you?” . You whined and pouted , “I told you daddy but you didn listen” . He smiled once more , “sorry sweet girl ‘m listenin now” he pressed only one of his thick fingers inside you without warning and you bucked your hips into his hand mewling like a cat. “That feel good? Been waitin all day haven’t you” .

He then inserted a second finger in stretching out your sopping hole , everything about Joel as just so big compared to you it’s why you always felt so safe with him although he was tough on you , mean at times but he fucked you so good. “When do I get your cock daddy?” You said between whimpers as he pumped his fingers in and out of you curling up to press against your velvety gummy walls. Always so impatient , but who could blame you? You loved the way Joel stretched you out, it hurt so good always rewarding you with his cum, it was like a warm hug from the inside.

He clicked his tongue , “so cock hungry, let me just play with you for a minute ,why don’t you?” He would alternate from his fingers being inside you to rubbing your clit as his fingers lazily groped and played with your tits . Joel liked this a lot just playing with you , hearing your small moans the way you’d sit and squirm on him . Wasn’t this supposed to be him fixing your attitude? He was just giving into you. This old man is getting soft.

You began to squirm more , moans becoming more persistent. Your hands gripping Joel’s scarred thick forearms. Your thighs clamping shut around Joel’s hand making him slap your cunt once more , “try to close your legs again and I won’t let you have my cock tonight” you pouted and whined at the sting before spreading your legs once more , joel loved how obedient you would be . He kissed a trail down your neck to your shoulder , being tickled by his rough facial hair . His fingers still pumping inside you like a well oiled machine , your head falling back onto him as the coil inside you began to unravel more until it finally snapped. Your thighs shaking as you had full body convulsions on his lap , your cunt clamping around his fingers as he kept curling them up inside you making you ride out your orgasm. “Good girl always cum so hard f’me , you think you deserve your old man’s dick now?”

You nodded , words still on the end of your tongue but you were in such a euphoric state your body didn’t allow sentence much more than a babble escape your mouth . He lightly moved you off of his lap , sucking on his fingers before reaching for his belt buckle . You heard the metal clang tighter before he pulled the belt through the loops and took it off completely . Undoing his button and letting you hear your favorite sound of the zip being pulled down. You loved that sound it meant you were in for a treat. Your nightly sometimes morning routine.

He pulled his jeans down just enough for his thick cock and heavy balls were free , he then pulled your now pretty much limp body onto him. Thighs either side of his , “do you wanna help daddy or do you just want me to do it” he asked like he always did in this position . You shook your head and just wrapped your arms around his neck burying your face inhaling his musk, “daddy do it” you said muffled. Joel obliged taking his dick in one hand as he held you steady with the other . Although he did just stretch you out with his fingers it was no help he was just too thick. He always has been too big for you but you both loved the stretch. His throbbing head trying to push its hardest into you , you just whined in pain into Joel’s neck . He moved his free hand from your hip to your back rubbing up and down trying to soothe you , “ I know I’ll make you feel good just push through this pain for a minute for me won’t you honey?” . His hands now both shifting to your hips as he began to push you down onto his cock , his hips lifting to meet you half way . Your eyes squeezed shut from the pain and you bit down onto his traps . Joel didn’t mind you biting in fact he liked it just a little. When he had finally fit all of himself inside you he let you settle for a moment , adjusting to the size just as he always did .

When you said you had adjusted enough he lifted your hips once more leaving a small gap between the two of you before he began fucking his cock into you from under you . You loved doing this with Joel because his cock pummelled your insides hitting all the right places making you squeeze down on him , moaning his name into his ear like a mantra . How your fingers found their way in his hair and his iron clad grip on your hips , a bruising grip but he always made sure to kiss them better after. You arched your back pressing your chest into his , his lips on your neck feeling his hot breath fanning over your collarbones .

You loved how he fucked you like you was his personal sex doll , he knew how to please you. Only him. He knew it could only ever be him that would suffice your urges. “Takin it so well for me baby, fuck- don’t think I can make this a long one tonight princess. Jus’ wanna cum in this little pussy . Made for me to fill isn it?” He panted against you. You were fucked utterly pathetic at this point babbles just poured out of your mouth not being able to respond to him properly . Joel’s hips jerked and spluttered filling you with thick ropes of his warm cum . You fell limp against him as he pressed a kiss to your head , he lifted your hips once more as he put his now half hard cock back into his jeans he didn’t care that his cum was spilling out of your onto said jeans .

He lifted you with ease into his arms so you were laid bridal style over him as your thigh muscles still contracted and spasmed . He then stood up you still in his arms , his joints popping as he stood they got louder with age . He began to carry you upstairs to the bathroom to give you both a bath . Walking up the stairs he spoke up , “how about before my shift tomorrow we go to the bakery a pick up a loaf of bread and I’ll talk to Bonnie about a job. Part time. How would you feel about that baby?”

You always got your way in the end. That old man is just too soft on you really. You’re just his baby after all .

[regressionschool]

Big Girl Rebellion

I used to be potty-trained.

I mean, really trained. I had sparkle undies with cartoon kittens, knew when I had to go, and even wiped all by myself. I used to feel proud of that—smug, even. Big girl Sophie, the girl who didn’t need help. The girl who didn’t wear diapers like the other littles.

But that was before.

Before they decided I needed to be “reminded” of my place. Before the charts and the baby bottles and the locking potty lid. Before the first thick diaper was taped onto me while I screamed and kicked and swore I’d never use it.

Spoiler: I did.

And now? Now I’m sitting in the middle of the playroom, legs spread wide by the swollen padding between them, surrounded by plushies I didn’t choose and building blocks I’m expected to play with. I’m wearing a pastel onesie that snaps between my legs, stretched tight over a very obvious, very used diaper.

And I’m not letting Nanny Clara change me.

“You’re stinky again, Sophie,” she says gently, kneeling in front of me with the calm, patronizing tone they all use. Like I’m some baby who doesn’t know better. “Come on, sweetie. Time to get you cleaned up.”

“No,” I snap. I turn my face away like the toddlers do when they’re being bratty. “I like it.”

She blinks, but only for a moment. She’s trained for this. “Sophie,” she tries again, more firmly this time. “You’ve been sitting in that diaper for almost an hour. I can see it hanging between your knees.”

I spread my legs wider on purpose, grabbing one of the blocks and banging it on the floor.

“So?”

“So,” she says, biting back her sigh, “you need to be changed.”

“No, I don’t.”

She pauses. “You used to be such a big girl…”

I round on her. “Exactly. Used to. But you took that away. You put me in these. You made me sit in the corner until I messed myself. You’re the one who clapped when I did it. So now? Now this is you getting what you wanted.”

I shift deliberately, the mush shifting with me, and watch her flinch just the tiniest bit.

Deep down, some part of me loves it.

Nanny Clara puts the wipes and clean diaper back in the basket, standing slowly. “Fine,” she says, her tone still syrupy sweet. “You can come find me when you’re ready for a change, okay, sugarplum?”

I ignore her. She walks off.

Good.

I hate her. I hate all of them. I hate that they took away my panties, made me ask permission for everything, from snacks to TV time. But mostly, I hate that I stopped fighting.

Because now? I’m… getting used to it.

The padding between my legs feels natural. The squish doesn’t bother me anymore. The smell makes people wrinkle their noses and call me names “stinky butt,” “messy miss,” “diaper girl” but I’ve started to like those names.

When people talk down to me, coo at me, lift my skirt to check if I’m wet—I feel small. Powerless.

But safe.

That’s the worst part.

“Hey, diaper girl,” a voice calls.

I glance up. It's Brandon, one of the caretakers. Young, tall, broad shoulders and sleeves rolled up to show his arms. He’s smiling, crouching to my level, and he’s got that teasing twinkle in his eye.

I shift a little, letting the weight of my messy diaper tug at my hips.

He wrinkles his nose. “Yup, that’s what I thought.”

“What?”

“You filled your pants again, huh?” he says. He’s not mad. He’s amused. Like I’m a toddler who just finger painted on the walls.

I look down at the blocks, pretending not to care, but my cheeks go pink anyway.

“Did you already tell Clara no?”

I nod, sulking.

“Figures,” he chuckles. “You’re always so stubborn. Used to be the big bossy girl, remember? Telling everyone you were too old for naps and that only babies wore diapers.”

“I was right,” I mutter.

He leans in. “You still think you’re not a baby?”

I glare at him.

His eyes flick down to the bulging seat of my diaper.

“Coulda fooled me.”

I should hate that.

But I don’t.

I like the way he looks at me now. Not like an equal. Not like a girl with control. But like a helpless little thing who can’t even keep her pants clean.

And maybe I am that now. Not because they forced it on me but because I let them. Because it’s easier to lean into it than to keep fighting. Because it’s soft and warm and oddly comforting to give up the grown-up fight and just be… soggy.

“Come on,” he says, scooping me up like I weigh nothing.

I squeal in surprise, my arms going around his neck on instinct. “I didn’t say yes!”

He smirks. “You didn’t say no either.”

He carries me easily, one arm under my bottom, not even flinching at the squish he’s got his hand pressed against. The air shifts as he walks, and I catch a whiff of myself, sharp, thick, unmistakable.

He definitely notices. But he doesn’t stop holding me.

“Bet you’re proud of yourself, huh?” he murmurs, bouncing me slightly. “Filling your diapers like a good little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl,” I whisper, but it’s weak.

“Coulda fooled me,” he repeats, echoing himself.

He lays me down on the changing mat in the nursery, the crinkle of the plastic loud under my onesie. I stare at the ceiling as he un-snaps me, exposing the bulging diaper underneath. His hand hovers.

“Still want to say no?”

I glance down at the disaster I made in my pants, and I actually smile.

“Maybe just five more minutes,” I say softly. “I like how it feels.”

He raises a brow, but he doesn’t argue. Just gently re-snaps my onesie and sits beside me on the mat, tousling my hair.

“Guess you’re really one of the littles now, huh?”

I nod.

No shame. No fight left.

Just a warm, squishy diaper and the soft hand of someone who treats me like the messy little girl I’ve become.

And for the first time, I don’t want to be anything else.

[timmydraker]

Tim hates Damian, but not for the reasons people think.

It did start as him thinking of Damian as rude, violent and unworthy of something as bright and joyful as the mantle of Robin. Tim might be better than most rich folk can be, but he’s still human and was very clearly ignorant of Damian’s lifestyle and culture, and I don’t just mean being an Assassin.

There’s no arguing against the arrogant way he sometimes talks about Damian and the League even if later adaptations are lighter with it, and the only reason it’s not a big thing is that he actually learns and pulls his head out.

Tim is an asshole but he’s not stupid, he’ll learn even when he doesn’t want to, it just takes some time.

But once he started to try and see Damian differently, around the time the younger Robin started to grow more into his role and adapt to the American world, Tim was confronted by something that make him almost insecure.

Because while Tim had to overcome some of his faults, Damian did something so mind numbingly difficult.

He overcame his entire childhood and taught nature.

Tim once used Damian’s blatant disregard for victims comfort as a reason he shouldn’t be Robin, and now as Damian is becoming an adult he’s going out of his way to learn how to help people and not shut save them.

Tim would often point out how Damian never trusted anyone no matter how much proof they gave to earn it, only really putting full faith in Dick and Bruce, but then he’s putting himself I situations that make him squirm just to give people a chance. But then it’s Tim who has the most contingency plans because he firmly believes even your most trusted allies can betray you.

Tim hated how Damian was so arrogant and self centred and then he’s catching himself lying to partners just because he doesn’t think he did anything wrong even though they are clearly upset.

Tim had to work against his own body to be able to fight, changing his untrained body into a tool to be used, but Damian didn’t have to do that because his body was ready to fight from the moment he was made.

Damian grows, he becomes someone dangerous and threatening but someone equally as kind and compassionate, strange ways of showing it be damned. Damian wants to be a doctor, wants to help people o ur side of the suit, which just doesn’t make sense because Tim said at the start that all Damian will ever be is violence and cruelty and yet-

Tim is admittedly jealous.

He wants to say he’s someone great and strong, and he is really, but Damian…

Damian is more of a Robin than Tim.

They both still did good, great things and Tim will always be a good Robin, it’s just that Damian has done so much more in regards to himself. He’s grown and changed and went from being someone Tim saw as just bad to someone more patient and willing to do the hard work big for the good and it just doesn’t make sense because Tim-

Tim has become bitter and angry and every internal monologue he has is filled with venomous words and irritation. He’s making plans he claims he won’t act on, but who thinks up so many ways to permanently stop someone with violent, unethical and just inhumane means without batting an eye?

Tim isn’t hesitating when making ‘world had ended’ plans, when making last ditch plans that involve killing people and he’s stop pulling punches with certain groups because they come back to life anyway so who cares if they die in a fight?

And it’s so ironic, because for a time when he was first introduced to the family, Damian saw Tim as the goal. It was Tim who was most trusted by Batman, who was allied with pretty much every hero team, who was given free reign and his own cases, and it was Tim who his mother warned him would be in his way of Robin.

But Damian stopped being so eager to replace and started to want to be his own person. His own Robin and eventually, his own everything entirely.

And now it’s Tim who is being told to calm down, to stand down, to not be so defensive.

It’s Damian whose defying Bruce now, whose moving on from Robin and spreading a whole new pair of wings when even Tim can’t let go be cause he has to do better, right? Because if Damian, cold blooded and aggravating Damian, can become someone else and good then he should be too.

Yet even with good friends and a good rep, he feels like something lesser.

And doesn’t that just suck.

[enhaflixer]

ENHYPEN ASS vs. TITS - ENHA HARD HOURS MDNI 18+

cw: smut obvs like so much, but also riki's has a lil ass eating at the end so if ur not comfy w that don't read it, i personally think its hot sexy mwah mwah mwahiasd ydgwieudnoedoqwim asf so...

-

HEESEUNG — TITS MAN TO THE POINT OF SPIRITUALITY

He loves them. Loves them.

Big ones, small ones, soft, perky, natural, fake—he’s an equal opportunity worshipper. But yours? YOURS?

He treats them like holy ground. Kneels for them. Sleeps with his face in them. Whines when you wear a bra like it’s a personal attack.

“Why would you trap them like that?”

“They need support.”

“I support them. Every day. Emotionally. Spiritually.”

You’re doing dishes? He’s behind you, groping.

You’re getting dressed? He’s on the bed, hands behind his head, smiling like an idiot while watching them jiggle into your bra.

You take your shirt off? He sighs, like something’s been healed deep in his soul.

He’ll pull your top down mid-makeout just to cup them gently and go:

“Sorry, I needed that. I’m better now.”

In Bed? He’s feral.

Titty-fucking? Yes. Every time you offer. Sometimes when you don’t.

He’s panting the second you squeeze them around his cock, groaning “oh my god—your tits are so fucking perfect—” while leaking all over them. He’ll finish on your chest and just… stare.

Sometimes traces your nipples with his tongue and mutters praise like a man possessed:

“So soft. So pretty. Look at you. Let me suck on you, baby. Let me have you.”

He cums harder when he’s touching them. Moans louder. Cries a little if you let him fuck them and your mouth at the same time.

Soft Hours? Heeseung, Please.

When he’s falling asleep?

Face planted right between them.

Wakes up and kisses them before he kisses your mouth.

If you ever even joke about disliking them?

“Hey. Don’t do that. Not to my favorite girls.”

He holds them during cuddles. Talks to them sometimes. Probably has a little name for them. Definitely has a favorite boob.

If you ever walk in wearing a loose tank top, no bra, all soft and sleepy?

He goes feral.

Like, drop-the-controller-in-the-middle-of-a-game feral.

“No. Come here. No, I’m not joking. Get over here. You look like that and expect me to focus? Be serious.”

JAY — ASS MAN TO THE GRAVE.

This man is not okay about it.

He tries to play it cool. He tries to pretend he’s above it. But his eyes? They betray him every. single. time. You bend over in front of him once and he forgets his name, his birth date, his purpose in life.

“What did you say?”

“I said pass me the—”

“No, I’m sorry. I blacked out. Say it again but maybe… don’t arch like that this time?”

You walking around the house?

He’s watching.

Not even subtle. Doesn’t blink.

You turn around and catch him, and he just smirks like—

“I paid for dinner, I get to look.”

If you wear leggings or those tiny shorts he hates but secretly loves? He’s groaning the second you leave the room.

If you wear nothing? He’s hard before you even speak.

In public?

You’re his plus one at a fancy dinner. You lean forward to pick up your bag and his hand is immediately on the small of your back.

“Don’t bend over in that dress. Unless you want me to ruin it.”

He’ll whisper filthy things in your ear just because he knows your thighs will clench.

“Gonna have to remind you who that ass belongs to when we get home.”

You do not make it home.

In bed? Jay doesn’t play.

He lives for taking you from behind.

Spreads your cheeks just to stare. Smacks it once. Then twice. Then again—just because he can.

“Look at this fuckin’ view,” he groans. “Tell me who it’s for.”

He grabs handfuls of your ass while pounding into you, low moans spilling from his lips with every bounce.

“That’s it, baby. Make it clap for me.”

He’ll cum and stay inside, pressing his palm to the curve of your back like he’s still claiming it.

If you’re riding him in reverse? He’s DONE. Gripping your hips, whispering, “that’s it, baby, give me the show,” while he holds your ass open and watches himself disappear inside you over and over.

Soft Hours? He’s down bad.

He walks up behind you when you’re brushing your teeth, wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin on your shoulder just to grind the smallest bit against your ass.

“Just letting you know I’m thinking of your ass.”

Worships it like it’s art. Might kiss it before kissing your lips. If you’re lying face-down on the couch, he’s kneeling beside you and purring.

“This is where I wanna live. Right here. I’ll build a house.”

Bonus Jay Dialogue:

“If I die and come back as anything, I want it to be your ass.”

“You’re unwell.”

“No, baby. I’m obsessed. There’s a difference.”

JAKE SIM AND THE TITTY ERA™

It starts as a joke.

You’re lying on the couch, wearing the tiniest tank top known to mankind—braless, of course. Jake’s head is resting on your chest, dead silent, completely still, until—

“Left one’s Luna,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry??”

“And the right one’s Veronica. Luna’s a little softer. Veronica’s got attitude.”

You blink.

He looks up, dead serious.

“What? I see them more than I see half my friends. They deserve names.”

From that point on—it’s over for you.

Jake is no longer a man. He is a titty prophet. A chest scholar. A boob poet.

And he has zero shame.

When You’re Just Hanging Out

He’ll be cuddled up next to you, arm around your waist, hand casually resting on Luna like she’s his comfort plushie.

“Veronica’s in a mood today. She keeps poking out.”

“You’re insane.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have Veronica and Luna.”

He will say good morning to them.

He will say good night to them.

He will literally bow to them when you take your shirt off.

When Things Get Heated

You’re on top of him, tits bouncing in his face, and he’s fully whimpering.

“Oh my god, look at them.”

“They’re literally just—”

“No. No they’re not. Don’t disrespect them in front of me.”

He talks directly to them while fucking you.

“That’s my girl. Look how good you look. You’re stealing the whole show.”

And then moans like he’s being blessed.

He sucks on one, then the other, then goes back and forth like he’s trying to make them jealous of each other.

Titty-fucking? Oh, baby.

It’s not a kink. It’s a calling.

He’s panting, groaning, fully worshipping the view with his cock between them and his fingers gripping your sides like he’s trying to survive it.

“Luna, you’re an angel. Veronica, stop staring at me like that—fuck—fuck.”

He finishes all over them, then kisses the tops like a gentleman.

When He’s Being Soft™

He lays his head between them to fall asleep.

Literally nuzzles like a baby.

If you move, he groans dramatically and pulls you back in.

“You’re squishing them.”

“Good. That’s where I wanna die.”

When you’re feeling insecure?

He gets angry.

“Don’t talk about them like that.”

“Jake, I’m just saying—”

“No. No self-slander. They’re iconic. They’re powerful. They’re literally the best part of my day.”

He’ll kiss your chest over and over until you melt.

Then look up with that soft, sleepy smile and go:

“Tell them I said thank you.”

SUNGHOON — TITS MAN. DEADPAN. UNWELL.

“I wasn’t staring.”

He says.

While blinking at your chest.

Not moving. Not breathing. Just… evaluating. Deep in thought. Like your tits are a visual exam and he’s making sure he gets every answer right.

The Outside: Composed. Cold. Deadpan.

You walk out of the bedroom in a braless tank top? He doesn’t say anything.

Just glances once. Looks away. Then glances again.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

Stares harder.

You lean forward on the counter. He zones out so hard he doesn’t hear what you said. Eyes locked. Hands twitching.

“Are you even listening?”

“I’m trying not to lose my fucking mind, actually.”

The Inside: Imploding. Exploding. Melting.

Sunghoon’s not dramatic. But your tits?

They undo him.

He acts like he doesn’t care, but you catch him gently adjusting his sweatpants every time they bounce under your shirt.

He tries to make it your problem.

“Why would you wear that?”

“I live here??”

“Okay but you know what that top does to me.”

When you finally take your bra off in front of him?

Silence.

Eyes wide.

Lips parted.

Then:

“…Yeah. Okay. I’m gonna need you to come here right now.”

In Bed? He’s Possessed.

He doesn’t even go for your mouth at first.

Just pulls your shirt up and moans the second he sees your chest.

Stares. Palms. Thumbs your nipples until they harden. Watches you squirm.

“Sensitive?”

“Yes—fuck, Hoon—”

“Good.”

He loves sucking. But not sloppy. Not rushed.

Slow. Purposeful. Alternates between kisses and tongue. Stares at your face while doing it. Groans when you moan.

“Keep making those sounds. It makes them feel appreciated.”

You ride him? His hands are locked behind his head, watching them bounce with that lazy, half-lidded gaze like he’s hypnotized.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Making them bounce like that. You’re evil.”

Sunghoon’s Tits-Man Greatest Hits:

“You were talking and I heard nothing. They were bouncing and I panicked.”

“I’ve been really good today. Can I put my face in them?”

“They’re prettier than I deserve. But I’ll worship them like I do.”

“If they had their own fanclub, I’d be president, secretary, and treasurer.”

“I come for you. I stay for the tits.”

SUNOO — THE SNEAKIEST ASS MAN ALIVE

He is so unserious about it.

Pretends it’s not that deep.

But if you bend over in front of him, he gasps. Loudly. Like it’s the most disrespectful thing you’ve ever done.

“You can’t just do that while I’m eating!!”

“I dropped my phone!”

“I dropped my soul???”

Around the House? He’s Acting Up.

You’re in shorts? He’s watching.

You walk away? He hums under his breath like he’s rating it.

“Mhm. That’s a solid 9.6 today.”

If you so much as climb onto the bed in front of him, it’s over. He’s crawling after you. Hands out like a cartoon character.

He doesn’t even pretend he’s not obsessed. If you catch him staring?

“Yeah. And? I bought dinner. I get ass privileges.”

Loves pulling you into his lap just to squeeze. Always sits with you facing away so he can rest his head on your back and just hold. The ass. Casually.

“This is therapeutic for me.”

In Bed? He’s OUT OF CONTROL.

Sunoo doesn’t just love your ass.

He performs rituals on it.

Spanks it lovingly. Stares like it’s art. Spreads it slow and dramatic just to whisper:

“This is my happy place.”

Loves when you ride him in reverse so he can watch. Bites his lip, tilts his head, and says the nastiest shit in the softest voice.

“Bounce like that again, baby. Just like that. You’re showing off, aren’t you?”

He’s fully vocal. Gasps. Whines. Might literally sob if he finishes while holding onto your hips.

Loses all composure when he takes you from behind. Like—whimpering, full-body shaking, face buried in your neck groaning “you’re too good to me—”

Sunoo’s Ass-Man Greatest Hits:

 “This outfit is so disrespectful and I support it fully.”

 “No offense but if I die it better be face-down in that thing.”

 “You jiggle when you walk. That’s poetry, actually.”

 “It’s giving… distraction. It’s giving… girlfriend tax.”

 “Bend over one more time and I will moan. I’m warning you.”

JUNGWON — SWEET. TEASING. CRAZY-IN-THE-HEAD. ASS MAN TO HIS CORE.

He’ll help you clean the house, fold your laundry, and refill your water bottle like the perfect boyfriend he is…

…then immediately pull you into his lap while you’re still wearing your cute little shorts and whisper:

“Sit still, baby. Let me feel it again.”

Sweet on the surface… always.

He’ll come up behind you while you’re cooking, wrap his arms around your waist, and nuzzle your neck.

But it’s not romantic.

Because his hands are gripping your ass the whole time. He’s swaying his hips into you, barely hiding his hard-on, mumbling:

“You’re doing great. Just… keep standing like that for a few more minutes.”

But once his brain short-circuits? He’s GONE.

You bend over once—to pick up a sock, fix the blanket, anything—and his hands are on you.

Not playful.

POSSESSIVE.

Spreads you apart with both hands like he’s checking if you remembered who you belong to.

“Pussy's dripping already?” he murmurs, smirking. “Told you it missed me.”

Loves watching his cum leak out of you—loves it—mouth open, eyes wide, licking his lips like he’s about to dive back in.

“Look at her. it's still hungry, baby.”

He will eat you out from behind just to stay close to her.

Face deep. Hands gripping. Moaning like you’re his last meal.

He groans when you cum, tongue flat and wide and messy—then keeps licking just to overstimulate you, hands spreading you wider until you’re whining.

“Don’t run. You wanted me back here, didn’t you?”

“W-Won—”

“Nah. Be a good girl. Let me finish worshipping you.”

Jungwon’s Wild-Ass, Sweet-Boy Ass-Man Dialogue Greatest Hits:

 “Spread your cheeks for me. That’s it. God, look how pretty that is.”  “you’ve always been a lil slutty, haven't you? You’re leaking just from my tongue.”  “You said you wanted soft tonight, but your ass says otherwise.”  “I’m serious. If you keep arching like that, I’m not pulling out.”  “I’ll kiss your ass good night every day if you let me.”

RIKI — UNBOTHERED. UNHOLY. THE MOST CASUAL ASS OBSESSION ON EARTH.

He’s quiet. Chill. Always lounging.

But his eyes?

They never leave your ass.

You turn around and he’s already smirking, legs spread, head tilted back like—

“Damn. Look at her go.”

And by “her,” he means your ass. He says it with his chest.

So casual it’s actually terrifying.

You walk past in sweatpants?

He stares.

You bend over to grab something?

He groans.

You sit in his lap, all soft and cozy, and his hands immediately slide down to squeeze—hard.

“What?” he shrugs. “She said hi.”

He talks to her like she’s got a personality. Blames shit on her.

“I wasn’t trying to get hard. She was grinding.”

“I wasn’t staring. She winked first.”

And in bed? He’s… not normal.

He flips you over. Spreads your cheeks.

And just stares.

Doesn’t even blink.

Tilts his head. Brushes his thumb across your hole.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he says quietly. “She’s so needy. You feel that?”

He lives to fuck you from behind.

Hands on your hips, pulling you back onto him like a toy. Mutters things like:

“Look at her swallowing me. Damn.”

When he pulls out and watches his cum leak out?

He presses your cheeks together and moans.

Takes a picture. Doesn’t ask. Says:

“This one’s for her. She earned it.”

And he eats ass like he’s trying to win a gold medal.

Doesn’t warn you. Doesn’t stop.

He’ll lick everything with slow, lazy circles—palms keeping you wide open, breath warm, tongue deeper than it has any right to be.

He loves how sensitive you get.

He teases. He talks through it.

He chuckles when you shake.

“You always this shy, baby?”

“You’re licking my—”

“I know. She’s delicious.”