#Bongo's Reblogs!!!

[bongo-clash]

Hey why do I hear boss music-

Purrcussion

(via)

[bongo-smash]

WAIT I ACTUALLY WROTE A FIC WITH A GHOST ROBIN-ERA JASON HAUNTING GOTHAM A WHILE AGO!!!

im reading a fic in my head where jason disappears and a small ghost robin begins haunting gotham

[bongo-clash]

Procrastinating Writing So I Made an Ask Game

🐙/1 - If you're into poetry, what are your favourite poems?

🦑/2 - What song(s) do you listen to while writing (if you listen to anything)?

🦐/3 - Do you have a song that's been stuck in your head?

🦞/4 - Last sentence you wrote for a WIP

🦀/5 - Trope you'll never get tired of? (General or fandom-specific)

🐡/6 - Do you do anything to inspire yourself for writing? (e.g., moodboard, playlist, etc.)

🐠/7 - If you could make any one thing canon for any one piece of media, what would it be?

🐟/8 - What's the most productive time of day for you, writing-wise?

🐬/9 - Any cool/interesting things you had to research for a story?

🐳/10 - Funniest joke/bit you think you've ever written

🐋/11 - Saddest thing you think you've ever written

🦈/12 - Any stories you didn't expect to get the response that they did?

🦭/13 - Which of your stories do you think best encapsulates you as a writer?

[saintobio]

RIDE OR DIE .ᐟ

in a world where horsepower meets heartstrings, and bookstore meet-cutes lead to motorcycle mishaps, you soon realize that opposites do attract in ways that blur the line between fiction and reality.

▞▞ PAIRINGS. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

▞▞ GENRE. fluff, smut, established relationship, biker boy x book girl au, 18+

▞▞ TAGS. biker!kuna, backpack!reader, profanity, reckless driving, mentions of violence (not to reader), bruises, police, fellatio, cunnilingus, protected, explicit smut, sukuna being a cute bf

▞▞ NOTES. 8.3k word count. my biker!kuna fics are unstoppable atp 😮‍💨 and as an irl writer gf to a biker bf, this is a very self-indulgent fic. got lazy with the smut so i copied bits from my other gojo oneshot. reblogs are highly appreciated <3

▞▞ INSPOS. my fav biker boys on biketok: that10r, dylan.r.one, raven.coop, onyx_r7, senor_torque, blacchornets, aushendrivessafe, tiiidddooo, bongo & takaro 🖤🏍️💨

After dating you for six months, Sukuna realized that nothing in the world could capture your attention like your cherished collection of fictional books—except, of course, him. But before he entered the picture, you were always immersed in solitary bliss at the cafe or library, lost in the intricate worlds of your latest literary fascination to the point where it was almost impossible to pull you out of it. 

Yet, it became an unspoken understanding between you both; he respected your need for uninterrupted reading time, allowing you to lose yourself in stories populated by your favorite characters, while in return, you supported his desire for a thrilling experience of riding his bike despite the inherent risks that came with it. 

He vividly remembered the first time he saw you while riding his bike through the city. You were crossing the street then, carrying a bag of books you had just bought from Barnes & Noble, and the sight of you in a cute sundress had him completely distracted from the road. So in an attempt to catch your attention, he revved his bike to ‘flex’. But in his effort to impress, he missed the red light and had to brake abruptly, causing him to lose control and drop his bike to the ground. 

That was the very first time he had ever dropped his precious R1 after a year of riding it. If it had been his old R7, he wouldn’t have cared as much, but his R1—his expensive, still-on-the-loan, matte black, fully customized R1—hit the pavement along with him. For bikers, these kinds of things hurt.

Now, talk about embarrassing. You even stopped to look at him in concern that day and if only you could see his blushing face behind his helmet. But at least, looking back at your meet-cute, he could tell you that he did, in fact, fall for you. Literally.

And there can’t be anything truer than that.

“Aww, she’s cute,” Choso remarked, gesturing his chin towards you with a teasing grin as they dismounted their bikes at the parking lot. You were there sitting in a cafe with a book on your lap, unaware that you were being conversed about by these two men right outside.

Sukuna jabbed him on the side and motioned for him to stop staring. “Fuck off. She’s mine.”

As Choso lifted his helmet, a group of girls outside the cafe couldn’t help but swoon over the two bikers, whispering and commenting on how hot and attractive they looked. And being the fucker that he was, completely absorbed in the attention from the girls, Choso had momentarily forgotten about Sukuna as he swaggered towards them with a confident smirk, glancing back at his friend and playfully raising his eyebrows.

“You go ahead. I’ll go check out the scenery,” Choso said in his usual mischief, “Unless you want to join me?”

Sukuna, still sporting his helmet, smugly showed him a picture of you as his phone’s home screen. “Sorry, already got my hands full with my princess.”

“Whatever. Tell Y/N I said hi,” Choso replied with a chuckle, before turning his attention back to the admiring group of girls.

You sat in your customary corner of the cafe, near the window, with a barely touched cup of coffee before you. Your attention was still and all riveted to the pages of your current book, remaining oblivious to the world around you as it looked like you were just getting to the good part of the storyline. Sukuna decided it would be a charming surprise to approach you as he entered the cafe, his arrival catching the eye of another group of girls who noticed him immediately, but he ignored their glances when he made his way towards your small area.

In his usual black leather jacket, Sukuna pulled a chair backward and straddled it, casually resting his arms on the backrest. With both legs on either side, he settled in, observing you intently behind his black helmet. A faint smirk played on his lips as he quietly watched you absorbed in your reading, and for now, he said nothing and enjoyed the moment silently.

He gave it a minute or so for you to realize. 

5… 4… 3… 2… “L-Lovey?” By the time you finally noticed his presence, you saw your widened eyes at his reflective visor when you looked up at him. 

“Hey, baby girl.” Sukuna pushed the button to lift his visor, revealing his narrow eyes that were locked onto yours. He had that boyish grin sitting handsomely on his lips.

As for you, you looked like you were blushing. That, or perhaps there was some sort of fluttering happening inside your heart at the unexpected sight of him. It was probably taking you a moment to separate fiction from reality, because not long ago, you were too fixated on the fictional boy written on the pages of your book. Now, your very real and actual boyfriend was here. For you. “Um… How long have you been there?”

“Not that long,” he assured in his usual low, velvet voice. “I just arrived, actually. Didn’t wanna disturb my baby.”

Your curious eyes fell on the red tribal decals on his black Nexx SX100r helmet, reminding you of the same face tattoo designs he had mentioned wanting to get, but you were refusing to let him have. “New helmet?”

Sukuna nodded, smirking as he tapped the headgear with his gloved hand. “Yeah, you like it?”

“I do,” you replied, smiling. “It’s very you.”

“Thanks, baby.”

You glanced at his sleek black Yamaha R1 outside the window and immediately closed your chosen book for the day. “Okay, well…” You met his gaze again. “I have backpack duties today, don’t I?”

He was quick to dismiss it. “No, no. You can finish reading. I don’t mind just sittin’ here and watching you for a while.”

But, being the stubborn girl you were, you were already packing your book into your bag. You didn’t even listen to a word he said. “Did you bring my helmet?”

“‘Course, princess. Your helmet’s right there strapped onto the backseat.” Your boyfriend leaned in closer and pointed to his sportbike. Just as he took your bag from you, his eyes lingered on your lips for a moment. “So, you’re gonna be my pretty little backpack today?”

You mustn’t have realized it, but the two of you had become the subject of envious stares in the cafe. Most of the girls who looked your way were clearly jealous. Yet your cute, clueless self didn’t even seem to notice as you clung to his arm. “Yes, lovey. I miss being your backpack.” 

Did you know? Sukuna always melted from your enthusiasm. And he couldn’t even resist pinching your cheeks. “Alright, then.” His hand moved to squeeze your nose. “I'll be your personal chauffeur, and you’ll be my cute little backpack who’s clinging tightly to me the whole time. Sounds good?”

“Yessir,” you answered with a playful salute. 

“Good girl.” He then took your hand in his, leading you out of the cafe and onto the parking lot when he all of a sudden felt a tug on his arm. 

You had a visible pout displayed. “Lovey, wait!” 

“What is it, baby?” The question came out of him softly, tilting his head when he looked at you. 

“My kiss,” you said sweetly, making Sukuna feel like Cupid shot an arrow to his heart. “You forgot.”

How can one person be so unbelievably adorable? Just how? How on Earth did he land the cutest girl on the planet? The cuteness aggression was certainly urging him to fall on his knees right now. With the weakness he tried to restrain inside, he was trying his hardest to laugh it off on the outside. “Oh damn, you’re right.” He pulled his helmet up, leaning in forward to place a warm, tender kiss on your soft lips. He could hear the hearts of the surrounding girls breaking at the sight. “Can’t believe I forgot to give my baby the most important item of the day.” 

Satisfied with the kiss, you followed your tattooed boyfriend like a shadow to meet his bike, ‘Fury’, as he affectionately named it. The sportbike rocked a midnight black wrap and the cool customizations he added made it a standout even more. Of course, what kind of person would think Sukuna would stick with a boring base design? One of the best things about his R1 was its front light, infamous in the bike community, as it resembled a menacing face that added to its aggressive allure. It was also equipped with a powerful 998cc inline-four engine, leaving no questions why ‘Fury’ roared with a throaty exhaust note that echoed through the streets. Sukuna chuckled inwardly at the thought. He hoped you wouldn’t mind, but this big bad boy would have been the love of his life if you hadn’t come along. 

“Love, I was thinking,” you interrupted his trance as he slipped the smaller helmet over your head, deftly securing the straps under your chin, “Do you think we can swing by the bookstore on the way?”

His lips curved into a smile. “Sure, we can. You wanna pick up more books to read?”

“I do,” you confirmed, yet hesitated at the end of your tone. “Well, there’s this book I wanna read, but… it has eighteen plus stuff.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow in intrigue, his visor still up as he effortlessly lifted you onto the back of his bike with one arm. “Oh, so it’s a spicy book, huh?” he teased, recalling the discussions he had seen on ‘biketok’ where he went by the username r1.skn. His TikTok account was an unexpected blend of motorcycle enthusiasts and book lovers, and that unique intersection of interests amused him endlessly. “Think my followers would love to know what my backpack’s gonna read next.” 

Even with your helmet on, he could sense the shy smile behind it. “No, please don’t film our ride today!”

“Hmm… What kind of spicy book are we talking about, baby?” he asked, settling onto his bike and revving the engine. When your arms were securely wrapped around his torso, he took that as a go signal to hold the throttle and smoothly shift from first to second gear. “Is it very naughty?”

You hugged him tightly from behind. “Um, it’s about this biker guy and a bookish girl,” you introduced the plot coyly, “And yes, it has some steamy scenes.”

He glanced at you through the bike’s mirror, ensuring that you were safe and secured behind him. Sukuna then shifted into third gear as you entered an empty road, gradually picking up speed. The roar of his bike was louder than his voice. “Really? I bet the biker guy is a dominant one.”

“Yeah.” Your grip tightened on his compression shirt, almost as if you were trying to feel his abs through the fabric. “He’s got tattoos, too.”

What a tease. “You better picture me as that biker guy when you read that book, princess,” he playfully warned, “You’re mine, both in real life and in your fantasies.”

“Yes, but my lovey is hotter.” 

“Good response, baby. You have taste.” 

As you reached the stoplight in the city intersection, Sukuna slowed down and adjusted the small camera mounted on his bike to make sure it still had the perfect angle of you two. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he now had evidence of how touchy his cute, little backpack could get. You sensed him filming your interaction, but instead of pulling your hand away, you leaned further against his back and playfully touched his toned chest. He was surprised and amused at the action, gently pulling your hand down when your silly hands squeezed his chest, but you remained undeterred by placing them near his crotch the next. Your boyfriend hoped to God that none of the surrounding cars were recording you two for your affectionate display in the middle of the traffic. 

“Brat,” he teased back with a shake of his head. “A brat who always gets what she wants, especially in bed.”

Your whine followed, along with a light slap on his arm. “Hey!” 

Why was this red light taking too long? He was getting all bricked up the more he could feel your tits pressing against his back. Although, he considered it a blessing and curse, because the only distraction that was served to you two was when another bike pulled up ahead of cars lined up behind you. It was a white Kawasaki ZX-10R. And its owner? A jerk who had a clear death wish. 

“Hey there, sexy,” catcalled the rider of the 10R, stopping exactly where he could see your rear. “Cute helmet.” 

Sukuna knew you well enough to know that you were offering an uncomfortable, yet polite smile underneath the helmet. But it was the tug at your boyfriend’s shirt that made him glance over the biker with a hint of warning in his eyes. “What’d you say?” His voice carried a menacing edge. While he hadn’t been in a brawl in a while, he definitely didn’t mind the idea of one now. “Back off my girl or I’ll smash your head on the ground.” 

The ZX-10R rider chuckled, hands in the air like an idiot. “Alright, man. No harm meant.” 

“Shut it.” 

“Okay, jeez! How about a little race to settle things? See who’s got the faster ride?”

Sukuna scoffed, finding it hard to believe that a random guy, especially an obvious amateur, had the audacity to challenge him to a race. Didn’t he know? Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t nicknamed the King of the Streets for nothing. He had been riding motorcycles for twelve years now, starting with a modest 300cc and graduating to his current 1000cc superbike. His riding experience was unmatched. He also knew every biker in the area as it was his turf. Yet this ZX-10R rider had appeared out of nowhere with such laughable confidence. 

Thanks to him, your boyfriend’s competitive spirit was ignited. “You’re on.”

“Cool,” the other biker replied.

Meanwhile, you tensed behind Sukuna and gripped his shirt tighter than before. “Love, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He turned his head, gently held the top of your head, and gave you a sweet ‘helmet kiss’. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reassured, “Just hold on tight for me, okay?”

As soon as the light turned green, best believe the street became a racetrack. All the cars were left behind to dust with the roar of motorcycles as both bikers increased their speed, side by side, in a fierce race. Sukuna shifted into third gear as he passed the next intersection, then into fourth gear when the ZX-10R caught up to him. He could feel your hold around him tightening more than ever as the rush of the wind blew through your helmet’s visor.

He thought you might hate it, but you were surprisingly loving the thrill of the scene. 

“Go, baby!” you cheered, holding onto him for dear life. Cute. 

“Not bad, man!” the other biker shouted over the wind, pulling ahead slightly at Sukuna’s moment of distraction. “But try harder!”

Tch. Sukuna gritted his teeth and focused all his senses on the road ahead. He weaved through traffic, maneuvering his bike skillfully and taking advantage of every opportunity to gain ground. In no time, he caught up with the ZX-10R rider, and they soon raced neck and neck. They exchanged glances as they sped between cars, with the other vehicles blurring around them in motion. The thrill of the competition fueled their adrenaline, while you, as the passenger, felt your heart pounding with excitement.

Both bikes continued to zoom down the road. And it was also during that time when Sukuna locked his mind and body into analyzing the situation. Let’s see, he thought, should I push Fury to its limits?

He calculated his next move, feeling the strong breeze on his face and the vibrations of the powerful engine beneath him. The ZX-10R rider was good, but Sukuna knew he had the skills and the bike to outpace him. He just needed to time it right. Between a ZX-10R and an R1, a quick Google search would tell you that the 10R pulls faster than an R1 engine wise. While both bikes were top-tier, high performance vehicles with a 200 horsepower and a top speed exceeding 180mph, the 10R’s disadvantage is being 7 kg heavier, which instantly gave Sukuna an edge in this situation. Being the lighter bike between the two would certainly make him marginally better at handling and acceleration. 

With that, your boyfriend capitalized on his bike’s strengths and shifted into sixth gear at the next intersection, surging ahead and crossing the finish line just as the ZX-10R was left stuck at the last stoplight.

Sweet, sweet victory. Sukuna sped onto the freeway, shouting triumphantly into the air. “Woohoo!” He could feel the jolt of adrenaline satiating his need for a thrilling ride. 

“B-Babe.” You, on the other hand, tugged at his shirt in worry. “Babe, we’re going too fast. The cops—!”

The sound of the siren snapped Sukuna back to reality in an instant. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, frustrated by the abrupt interruption. “Can’t even have a minute to celebrate my win.” 

While he could have engaged in a high-speed freeway chase if he wanted to, especially having already escaped the police once, having you with him now made him opt for better judgment. His promise to keep you safe was his foremost priority here. So, swallowing his pride with a tightened jaw, he slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road as the police car trailed behind.

The officer swiftly exited his vehicle and approached you two. “Evening, folks,” the stern voice of the elderly officer broke the tension. “License and registration, please.”

Sukuna retrieved his wallet and handed over his license and registration, then turned to you, placing a protective hand on your thigh. He could tell his poor little backpack was feeling anxious. 

The cop then glanced between you and Sukuna, his gaze lingering on you with concern. “Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, his focus more on your well-being than on the biker himself.

You nodded, trying to appear composed despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “Yes, officer. I’m fine.”

The officer soon directed his attention to the R1. “What’s the fastest you’ve been on this thing?”

Sukuna couldn’t resist a cheeky reply. “Speed limit.”

“Very funny,” said the unamused officer, who retreated to his vehicle to run Sukuna’s information while leaving you and your boyfriend to exchange glances once more.

His expression softened. “Sorry about this, babe. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble.”  

“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a squeeze around his waist. “I trust you.”

Interrupting the tender moment, the officer returned and handed back your boyfriend’s license. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked, receiving a shrug in response. A lecture that Sukuna heavily hated soon followed. “You were speeding back there. I clocked you going 20 miles over the limit. It’s always you fellas with the 1000cc bikes who think they’re invincible. Even 600cc guys are scared of the police. You need to slow down, especially with a passenger.”

With your insistent look, Sukuna nodded to the cop, apologetically. “Understood, sir.” 

The officer studied Sukuna for a moment before releasing a sigh. “Look, I get it. It’s a nice night for a ride. Just remember, it’s not just your life on the line. You’ve got someone else to think about.” He pointed at you while handing your boyfriend a ticket. “You’ve gotta take good care of her.” 

Only then did Sukuna’s cold mien soften up with the cop. “I’ll be careful next time, officer.”

“Right. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but I’m writing you a ticket for speeding. Slow down, alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

The officer returned to his car, and Sukuna pocketed the ticket with a mixture of relief and frustration etched on his face. “We didn’t get to pass by your bookstore,” he lamented, giving you an affectionate caress on the back. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You touched your headgear to his, sharing a helmet kiss. “There’s always next time,” you reassured him with a smile in your voice. “Besides, this is a real-life experience that no book can ever give me.”

~~

By the time you arrived at your apartment, darkness had already settled in, leaving a cozy glow from the distant cityscape as you switched on the lights and placed your helmet on the nearby console table. Immediately, your British shorthair cat dashed toward you with a loud meow, his pretty auburn eyes gleaming with excitement at seeing his mom.

“Hi, Casper,” you cooed at the feline, but his attention swiftly turned when Sukuna entered your apartment a few minutes later—someone he clearly wasn’t fond of.

Upon spotting Sukuna, your cat hissed, expressing his displeasure toward your boyfriend, who playfully stuck his tongue out in response. “I’m back, asshole.”

“Don’t call him that!” You chuckled, attending to Casper by mixing up his food in his bowl. “He’s probably never going to warm up to you at this rate.”

Sukuna smoothly removed his jacket and flopped down on the couch. “Boo! Casper sucks,” he hooted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “He’s just jealous because you love me more.”

It had been a while since Casper had seen Sukuna since you were the one coming over at his place more often. Still, the cat’s disdain for your boyfriend persisted, and you suspected it was because Casper could detect the scent of Sukuna’s dog, a large Doberman, whenever he was near. You can only imagine how crazy your household would be should you and your boyfriend move in together in the near future. 

For now, his occasional visits sufficed. Although, there were days when his presence in your apartment stirred more thoughts in your mind than just simple cuddles and movie nights. How could you help it? He was oblivious to the thoughts running in your head as he sat lazily on your couch, his legs spread wide, lifting his compression shirt just above his sweaty chest. His toned abs were impossible to ignore, especially as he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily.

“Babe, it’s so hot,” he said, fanning his face, completely unaware of the chaos inside your head. “Wanna shower before bed?”

His suggestion was innocent enough, but your immediate agreement was driven by a different kind of excitement. “Okay,” you replied with a sheepish grin, “I’ll see if you have any clothes left in the closet.”

You see, you and Sukuna had just started dating a few months ago—precisely 6 months and 3 weeks to be exact, so the relationship was definitely still fresh and vulnerable. But needless to say, while he was indeed a sweet and dreamy boyfriend that you could only ever read about in your stash of fictional books, there was also a side of him that awakened the more mature side of you. 

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Sukuna was more experienced in the intimacy department than you. And him being your first did bring in thoughts of inadequacy in terms of your performance in bed. You haven’t done it enough to call yourself a pro, but you also did it enough to say that you already knew what, how, and where to please him the most. You owe that experience to the multitude of smut scenes you had read about on Tumblr and AO3, because those exact stories provided essential insights that guided your actions on your first time.

Now, whenever the sexy beast within you was unleashed, you didn’t even hold back anymore. 

The shower was already running when you stepped inside the small space, your boyfriend letting the cold water fall on his naked tattooed body in rivulets. Each drop of water sounded like rainfall, and with him pulling you closer by the arm, he began kissing you with a passion that made it feel like you were caught in a rainstorm.

“Lovey!” You giggled, pushing your palms flat against his chest. “You said we’ll just shower.” 

“You know what I meant by that, baby.” 

The water continued to cascade down your skin, your hair now damp and your body now wet. Sukuna’s eyes darkened in lust as eyed you up and down, his hands tracing the curves of your body, before crashing his lips back onto yours once more. This time, his kisses were more aggressive as he bit your lower lip, and took the opportunity of shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He was devouring you with rough and wide movements, allowing your tongue to roll around his in a playful tangle. And with his fingers now grabbing a fistful of your hair, and his other hand sliding down your chest to squeeze your breast, you felt a stretch on your scalp when he pulled you by the hair to look up at him. “You think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” he teased, kneading your right breast before his hand moved south to palm your dripping cunt, “Deep down, you’re just as naughty and wicked as me.” 

“N-No.” Your breath hitched when his lips traced light kisses around your neck. But it wasn’t just his kisses and touch that made your knees weak, it was the feeling of his hardened member pressed against your stomach, fully erect and ready to be inside you. “Mmh… You’re the naughty one.” 

Sukuna went in for another open-mouthed kiss before he nibbled on your earlobe. “I don’t deny that, princess,” he pivoted your body around, and made you lean against the glass wall so he could get a better view of your buttocks. While you, you could see your tits pressed against the glass from your reflection in the mirror, a sight that your boyfriend went absolutely crazy for when he looked up. “Ah, fuck. That’s so hot.” 

You could feel his fingers playing with your entrance from behind, and you watched him bite his lip through the mirror, his eyes dancing in lust as he wantonly stared at your body. “Ngh,” you bit back a moan, the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance making you curl your toes, “I… I-I like that.” 

“I bet you do, baby.” Good lord. His voice was deep and raspy, and the sexiness of it was enough to make you wet. He even showed you evidence per se, when he pulled his digits out, spreading two fingers apart to show you the clear, slimy substance that coated it. You were already a blushing mess when he showed you your cum, and felt the heat in your cheeks worsening as you watched him, eye-to-eye, suck your juices from his fingers. “Aww, my baby tastes sweet.” 

“It’s the pineapple juice,” you joked, allowing him to cup your jaw and place a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “Mmm—I forgot to tell you.” You pulled away to look at your boyfriend. “I’m ovulating.” 

Sukuna tilted his head, squeezing your bum tenderly as he replied, “Are you suggesting I get you pregnant?”

“No, silly!” You chuckled shyly while he positioned himself behind you. “I was trying to say that I get extra horny when I’m ovulating.” 

He smiled, aroused more than ever as he heard you say those words out loud. “Too bad, I was thinking of creampie-ing you.” 

A gasp flew out of your lips when Sukuna’s long, slender fingers performed circular motions on your clitoris, stretching your labia apart so he could insert two fingers at your entrance. “B-Babe!” Your widened eyes were in great contrast to his lust-filled ones as he found entertainment at your submission to pleasure. You gripped his wrist and tiptoed when he started scissoring his fingers inside, forcing you to raise your leg so he could continue to move his hand in and out of your sopping cunt. “Ahh—ah! S-Sukuna!”

He hadn’t heard his name from you in awhile and he found that amusing. “Hm, baby? Saying something?” 

You squeezed your legs together to hide the clench that you were feeling inside, looking up at his crazed brown eyes and tracing his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You couldn’t hold it anymore, you were a willing slut ready to be pounded on by this tattooed man. “Please, f-fuck me.”

He reattached his lips back onto yours and pulled away just enough to keep your foreheads connected. “Not yet, baby girl.” A sly smirk spread off his lips. “That book you were reading earlier at the cafe,” he began, pulling his fingers away to turn you around, “It was smut, wasn’t it?” 

Feeling a wave of embarrassment as he brought it up, you responded with a coquettish smile. “Maybe.” 

Sukuna then pushed you down on your knees, letting you kneel down in front of his hard, veiny cock. He had stroked himself a few times—his other hand lifting your chin up—before he slapped his length against your lips. “Think you can show me how they did it in that book?” 

“Why…” you trailed off, wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping the long, meaty shaft before placing your tongue on top of the swollen tip. He was all crazed and aroused when you kept eye-contact and started putting his member inside your mouth.

“Damn.” Your boyfriend threw his head back, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s make all your fantasies a reality, baby.” 

Well, he was sweet for that. But also mischievous, too. He knew you could be just as naughty as him because he had seen the books you were reading and most of them were definitely far from innocent. Could he blame you? Sometimes, reading about it was better than experiencing it. Yet with your boyfriend’s ego, he wasn’t one to allow your fictional men to be better than him in all aspects. Physically. Emotionally. Sexually.

You let him guide your hand into stroking his shaft before you ejected spit on the pink head, using it to lubricate his aching member while you lowered yourself further to fit his firm balls inside your mouth. It gave you utmost pleasure to hear his guttural moans when you swirled your tongue around his bollocks—tasting the same flesh that carried all of his sperm, and releasing it from your mouth to give his cock the same attention. At first, you kissed his swollen tip and treated it like a lollipop, then you started sucking every inch of his length by bobbing your head at a stable rhythm. “Mmm.” You could hear curses leaving his pretty lips as he held your head in place, snapping his hips forward until you were gagging from the intense penetration on your throat.

You learned all these after a single read at your favorite 18+ book.  

“That’s a good girl.” His praise rang in your ears like a sweet melody.

Even without a reflection to look at, this was the most erotogenic exchange you two had ever done as a couple. And along with that, his half lidded eyes were staring down at you, judging you and your every move. 

You did your best to give him a stellar performance, did your most at pleasuring his member, and did everything that he liked whenever you were sucking his cock. And just like that, thick ropes of cum were sent straight down your throat. The musky, metallic taste didn’t stop you from swallowing all of his seed and you had to show your tongue to make him know that you did a good job at taking all of his semen. Nothing was wasted.

Not even time, because as soon as you finished giving him a blowjob, he was already carrying you out of the bathroom without drying yourselves off. You were thrown into your double bed, manhandled into spreading your legs apart before your animalistic lover plunged his face onto your pussy.

“S-Sukuna—! Mmm—fuck!”

He had your back arching because of how deep his tongue was going inside, tasting your walls and kissing your cunt like he would do with your mouth. He was smooching off your labia like a hungry beast, eating you out as if he wasn’t satisfied by the juices that he was sucking from you. You were already in your seventh heaven, unable to think straight when he added his middle finger to the movements of his tongue. If fingering your pussy and lapping your clitoris weren’t enough to drive you crazy, maybe grabbing a fistful of pinkish hair was a sign for him to stop before you could truly lose it. You could feel fire pooling on your lower abdomen and your legs were already shaking uncontrollably, your toes curling wantonly—with the suction he was doing on your cunt, you ended up screaming for his name and engulfing his mouth with your Earth-shattering release.

“Haah! ‘Kuna, p-please…”

As he detached his mouth from your entrance, he started climbing up, visibly pleased with the way he ravaged your cunt. He was wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, pressing his lips down on yours to make you taste your own fluid. A string of saliva connected your mouth to his before he grabbed ahold of his erect member once again. It hadn’t even been more than two minutes and you were already being hauled into another position. “Let me fuck you from behind.”

“Lovey, w-wait.”

“Ass up, baby.” His patience was growing thin when he dragged your body by raising your hips close to his crotch and pressing your head down against the mattress. Your boyfriend cared none for the embarrassment that settled on your heated cheeks when he spread your buttocks apart so he could ogle at the exact hole that he was about to enter. 

“No, wait!” you begged, looking up at him with a plea, “Condom, please.” 

The realization hit his face. “I think I’m all out, baby. Let me check,” he said, pulling away and stumbling towards his discarded pants on the floor, hoping desperately that he would find an unused packet of condom. Just to his luck, he had one more packet hidden between the folds of his leather wallet. “Got it!” 

He hastily ripped the packet with his teeth, taking the rubber out, and rolling it slowly to cover his entire length. You remained on all fours, watching him as he ejected spit on his fingers, which he soon used to lubricate your entrance. 

Did he give you any time to adjust? That word didn’t even exist in his vocabulary when he sunk all seven inches inside of your cunt, wrecking you open to the point where you could feel a stinging sensation on your entrance after being stretched by his fully erect cock. “Best pussy in the entire world.”

You were suppressing your moans from coming out too loud while you bit on a pillow, nails digging on the sheets as your lover penetrated your tight vaginal walls. “Ahh! M-More… More.” He was treating you like a fleshlight as he continued to rut your sopping cunt with his fat cock, absolutely enjoying how your warm pussy was milking his full length.

“Can your fictional boys fuck you like this, baby?” he breathed, all deep and velvety as he gave you the most rhythmical skin-slapping thrusts. He was so deep in your cavern that you could feel the base of his cock slamming against your ass. You didn’t even notice the hand that was snaking on your front to massage your bouncing tit because you were far too lost in the shockwaves of sexual gratification. “No other man can fuck you this good.”

It was like he was riding his own bike. With how fast his pace was increasing, you were already too limp to feel his hard thrusts.

Your brain was short-circuiting from the amount of sensation that was entering your body, intoxicated by the waves of libido in your system that was heightening more and more as he continued to satisfy your insatiable heat. You could barely think straight. You lost your sanity. All the modest parts of you had completely dissolved into a bitch in heat. Like a needy little whore. You didn’t even have any control of your own words when you started telling Sukuna, “I… want… you to keep… fucking me… like this.” Another forceful slam elicited a mewl out of you. “A-Aah! Haah!”

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Your boyfriend held a tighter grip on your hips, your moaning face leaving an imprint on his mind as he propelled your body forward and raced towards his ecstasy. After yet another thrust or two, or three, or four… Spurts of warm seed started exploding into the rubber. Sukuna’s thrust had become unsteady, his body falling down on the bed but his member still remaining inside of you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy, baby.” 

You were catching your breath after he broke your mind into becoming this sex-obsessed freak. “Lookie! My bed’s all wet now.” 

He smiled and finally pulled out, only to lean down again and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let me carry you to the couch,” he offered, but first he had to pull the condom out of his cock to reveal a cum-filled rubber. “Christ. I came a lot.” 

In other words, his cum would have been dripping out of your pussy for days.

You extended your arms, awaiting to be lifted like a princess by your lover. “Carry me now, please!”

“I will, baby.” Without hesitation, he scooped you up in his tattooed arms. He, too, was heavy breathing, but he still effortlessly held you. “I’ll take care of cleaning your sheets while you sleep.”

He was already walking towards the living room as you kicked your feet in the air, giving his cheek a gentle squeeze. “Can you clean out Casper’s litter box, too?”

Sukuna made a face of disgust, glancing at the cat before gently setting you down on the couch. “Only if he stops being an asshole,” he joked, but your pleading expression melted his resolve. “Alright, fine. I’ll take care of your bed, your cat’s litter... what else? You’re lucky I love you, you know.” He moved to the window, drawing the curtains closed to shield you from prying eyes. “Do you think your neighbors saw us fuck earlier? I forgot to pull the curtains on your bedroom.”

You laughed, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself. “Well, there’s this couple that’s been giving me strange looks lately, so it definitely isn’t the first time they’ve seen us do it.”

“It’s like that movie we watched,” Sukuna mused, trying to recall the title.

“The Voyeurs!” you both exclaimed in unison, sharing a laugh before you gestured to him. “Get dressed, lovey!”

Sukuna returned to tuck you in under the thin sheets, leaning down to give you a peck on the lips. “And you get some rest now, baby.”

~~

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you woke up, stretching lazily in bed to find Casper purring next to you. That’s strange, you thought. Your cat normally wouldn’t go near you when your boyfriend was around, so you turned to your side, expecting to find Sukuna still sleeping beside you, but the spot was empty. Confused, you glanced around the room, noticing that his motorcycle gear was also missing from its usual place. 

“Lovey?” you called out through the empty apartment. “Where are you?” 

With no response received, you walked towards your bedroom and found the sheets had been changed and everything was tidy. Searching the bathroom yielded no clues to Sukuna’s whereabouts either. And a quick trip downstairs to check his usual parking spot confirmed your suspicion—he had left without a word. 

You frowned, reaching for your phone to send him an annoyed text.

YOU: love, where are you? 

YOU: i’m not some kind of booty call that you can just leave the next morning without a say

The minutes ticked by as you waited for a reply, feeling a mix of frustration and worry because of his absence. Were you overthinking this? Perhaps he was just out to get you lunch. Or maybe he had an emergency. You tried to calm yourself down by breathing deeply and thinking of any possible explanation other than the worst-case scenario. Maybe his phone died, or he got caught up in something urgent. But after an hour of no response, worry began to gnaw at you. Did he just ghost me? 

“Oh, God.” You paced back and forth in your apartment, checking your phone repeatedly for any sign of a message or call from Sukuna. “Oh, God. Oh, God! I’ve read about this a lot. Why are guys such jerks?” 

You tried to rationalize his absence, hoping for a reasonable explanation, but your mind persisted racing through various scenarios, with each one more disheartening than the last. Maybe he’d gotten tired of you, or perhaps he was scared of commitment. The frustration and confusion were almost unbearable. Was the sex last night not good enough for him? 

That situation lasted the entire afternoon. And you wanted to rip your hair out at the fact that your boyfriend had been gone for hours, his phone unreachable, and his friends having no idea where he was.  

So as the evening approached and your anxiety grew, you decided to call Sukuna again. It was the 47th missed call. But just as you were about to dial his number once more, you heard the familiar roar of his R1.

“What the hell.” You rushed to the window and saw your boyfriend pulling into the parking area. Relief flooded your system as you watched him switch off the engine, dismount his bike, and walk leisurely towards your apartment building’s lobby like he didn’t just leave an anxious girlfriend without a note the morning after he fucked her brains out.

You waited for him to arrive at your doorstep, your heart calmer but still ticking with anxiety as the clock rang in your ears. You were ready to give him a lashing for being unresponsive to your texts and calls. But as the door swung open, your boyfriend knowing your passcode by heart, you didn’t expect that your anger at him would end up being for a totally different reason. 

Because there he was, standing by your door looking slightly disheveled but with a sheepish smile on his face. He held a Barnes & Noble bag in one hand.

“Hey, baby—”

“What the heck happened?” You rushed to him, noticing the scrapes and bruises on his face. “Are you okay? I was worried sick!” 

Sukuna removed his helmet and winced slightly, the corner of his lower lip was smeared with dried blood. “Sorry, my love,” he spoke softly, going in for a comforting hug, “I wanted to surprise you, but things got a little complicated.” 

You pulled away to touch his bruised cheek. “You’re hurt. Why aren’t you answering my texts?” 

“Phone’s dead,” he answered, showing you his lifeless phone before handing over the bag. “And this is for you, my beautiful princess.”

Taking the bag, you said, “You didn’t have to do this.” Then your eyes scanned his face for any sign of serious injury.

“I wanted to,” he insisted, his voice filled with affection despite his exhaustion. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

You eyed the Barnes & Noble bag, realizing that the book inside was the exact one you had mentioned wanting yesterday. Your emotions swirled in a mix of frustration and tenderness. Should you lecture him for being so reckless, or cry because of how romantic it was that he went out of his way to get the book you had been searching for?

But first and foremost, how and where did he get all those bruises?

Before you could ask, he already had an answer prepared. “Long story, baby. Let's just say I had a little run-in with another biker who had the same idea as me.”

You grabbed his hand and guided him to sit on the couch while you hurriedly fetched your first aid kit. As you tended to the scrapes on Sukuna’s face, Casper the cat approached cautiously, sniffing his scent before surprising both of you by leaning against your boyfriend’s leg.

“Meow~”

“Casper!” Sukuna exclaimed joyfully, picking up the cat with a playful flourish like how Rafiki carried Simba in The Lion King “Babe, he finally likes me!”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and joined Sukuna on the couch, gently tilting his chin to examine his bruise. “Tell me exactly what happened,” you asked with a hint of sternness, “You went all over town just for this book?”

Your boyfriend carefully set Casper back down and nodded. “Yeah, it’s the last one they had. Had to fight for it, though.” He then rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t even get a kiss or a thank you?”

At once, all your defenses crumbled. You let go of the gauze in your hand and pulled your boyfriend into a tender kiss, wrapping him in a warm hug afterward. “You’re insane, you know that? I was so worried about you, and now I find out you spent the whole day looking for this book.” You sighed, overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions the day had brought. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of love for the man who had gone to such lengths to make you happy. “But thank you, lovey. That’s really sweet of you.”

Sukuna, now grinning broadly, held you closer around the waist. “Always welcome, my baby.”

“Now, tell me about that biker,” you began, taking a q-tip and some ointment, “How’d you get into a fight?” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” he recalled, amused at the thought, “He was going to get the book for his girl, too. But I got there first, and he wouldn’t let me have it.” 

Jesus. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh at the absurdity of two bikers squabbling over a book in a bookstore. “You should’ve just let him have it.” 

“But baby!” he protested like a child, “I couldn’t come home empty-handed. I already feel bad we didn’t get to pass by the bookstore yesterday.” 

What a stubborn boyfriend you have. “I already told you it’s okay, lovey. You’re the best boyfriend already. I appreciate the effort and I’m even more in love with you now than ever,” you reassured, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose, “Now, is there anything I can give you in return? As a thank you?” 

Oh, boy. You already assumed he would request for something concerning activities in bed. But his face suddenly lit up as if a lightbulb just appeared above his head. His idea was surely not what you had in mind. 

“How about I teach you how to ride my bike?” 

~~

The sun hung low on the horizon as Sukuna stood beside his Yamaha R1, patiently explaining the basics of riding ‘Fury’ to you. He seemed to be heavily enjoying this whole thing. Meanwhile, you, donning a helmet and gloves, were fully geared up, nervousness evident as you cautiously swung your leg over the bike.

“Ah, dammit.” Your boyfriend was grinning like an idiot as he saw you sitting on his bike. “You’re gonna be one hot biker girl. I can’t! You’re mine. Don’t let them see you like this, babe!” 

“Stop exaggerating!” you retorted, your voice tense with nerves as you gripped the handlebars tightly. “This bike feels… big.” 

“Like my cock?”

“Stop it.”

Sukuna erupted into a chuckle before proceeding to move closer to you. “Alright, babe. Remember what I showed you about the clutch and throttle control,” he encouraged, “Take it slow.”

Nodding, you started the bike and felt the powerful engine rumble beneath you. With your boyfriend’s guidance, you eased out the clutch and gave a tentative twist of the throttle. The bike lurched forward, causing you to panic and squeeze the brakes hard. 

“Oh, my God!” You let out a squeak of surprise. “Oh, my God! I’m gonna die.” 

“Easy there.” He held your waist protectively. “Let’s try one more time?” 

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the intimidating power of the machine beneath you and instead focus on Sukuna’s instructions. Even with his guidance, you found yourself repeating the same mistake where this time, you braked too hard again, causing your body to jolt forward dangerously. You would have fallen from the bike if not for your boyfriend catching you right on time.

“I can’t do this…” You shook your head, frantically. “I’m not cut out for this.”

Sukuna held you steady, his hands firm yet reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, looking into your eyes. “It takes time, alright? You’re doing fine. Maybe we should start with something smaller.”

You let out a heavy exhale as Sukuna carried you off his bike. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Like a lower cc bike?” he suggested, giving your helmet a playful tap. “Let’s start you off on a 150cc bike. Yuuji has a CBR150R we can borrow.”

“I wouldn’t want to wreck your nephew’s bike,” you teased, watching from the side as Sukuna effortlessly mounted his own bike.

He revved the engine and reached out for your hand, helping you settle in behind him. “Then, you can just stay being my backpack princess for now”

With your arms securely around his waist, the bike accelerated, the wind whipping against your helmet visor. The view of the sunset was perfect for this ride. “So, does that mean I’m not your ride or die anymore?”

Sukuna took your hand from behind, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “Nah. You’ll always be my ride or die, baby.”

[bongo-clash]

TWs for: Death, mentions of illness/poison, implied panic attack/flashbacks, and extremely botched ecto-science

-

The Justice League has known Phantom for a while, now. They’ve fought beside him in several battles in the year, and he’s handled every one of them with an inhuman efficiency and grace. His power-set is strange and extensive, but he’s taught them more about the Infinite Realms than any of Constantine’s tomes ever could. About its history, its cultures; about a particular kind of ectoplasmic corruption that only comes with exposure to oxygen.

It’s this particular detail that Batman remembers, when—after years in sort-of remission—Jason’s eyes glow lurid green, and the tidal wave of the Pit’s rage returns. 

It’s hard, to express that level trust, especially with his kid’s safety on the line (one he’s already lost before, that he can’t lose again. Can’t, can’t, can’t). But really, it’s either Phantom or the League of Assassin’s—a group that certainly doesn’t have a great track record of doing right by his children—so Bruce bucks up the most difficult kind of courage, and approaches the other hero after a debriefing. 

“Phantom,” He calls out, just as everyone’s leaving. His hands are clasping the back of the chair he’s risen from; one of his older tactics for preventing visible tremors. “Stay behind for a moment. We need to talk.”

Phantom’s shoulders draw in on themselves just slightly as he waves goodbye to the rest of the group, drifting back towards the meeting table with a sheepish smile on his face. He crosses his legs in the air as he says “Man, I feel like I’ve just been sent to the principal’s office. Am I in trouble?”

Despite the tension lining Bruce’s heart, he almost finds it funny. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Phantom. I just wanted to ask for your input on something.”

“Wait, really?” The hero perks up, neon-sign eyes shining. “The big ol’ Batman wants my help with something? I mean—sure, Bats, what’s up?”

Batman doesn’t allow himself the luxury of hesitance, and speaks before he can even think of sighing. “A few weeks ago, you mentioned your belief in the presence of large sources of corrupted ectoplasm on earth. I want your input on the potential effects of this ectoplasm on a living being.”

Even before Phantom replies, it’s obvious the answer isn’t a good one—based purely on the way the ghost’s eyes turn wide and nervous. “A- a living being? Well, um, I don’t—look, ectoplasm in its most basic form is an obligate anaerobe, right? And corrupted ectoplasm comes from a natural portal destabilising, and oxygen breaking through the initial protective layer. So, you’ve got a sort-of-maybe-sentient—kind of depends—oxygen-poisoned anaerobe getting—what, absorbed into a fully living being? If they’ve had no prior exposure to ectoplasm, then best case scenario’s probably death, Bats.” 

But Jason isn’t dead. And Jason won’t be. 

“…What about a living being who has had prior ectoplasmic exposure?”

He looks at Bruce like he’s hoping this is a hypothetical, but knows with Batman it never is. “So, like, a medium, or…?” Batman only stares. The sigh the ghost gives says more than it should, given he doesn’t need to breathe. “It’s… Batman, if you’re telling me right now that there’s someone out there with even a little bit of a dependancy on ectoplasm, with corrupted ectoplasm in their system—then you need to take me to them. I can’t have any idea how serious this is without more context.”

This isn’t what Bruce had wanted to hear at all. He’d wanted everything to be okay; he’d wanted Phantom to wave him away with a laugh and say it’ll filter itself out on its own in a couple years’ time- and sure, fine, he’d have pushed to the ends of the earth for evidence of that claim, but at least it would have been a little bit reassuring. Jason could be—

No. Jason will be fine. Phantom just needs more context. 

“Friday, 10pm.” Batman finally bites out, and sweeps out of the room with all the steel and confidence of a man who will not be losing his son. 

-

To his credit, Phantom does actually show up on Friday, despite the fact that Bruce hadn’t actually confirmed that Friday would be okay. He’s shuffling his feet like they’re touching the ground hands fiddling with the straps of the backpack he’s wearing, and when he looks up, says nothing at all. Taking the silence for what it is, Batman leads him to the Zeta.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t been all that difficult to convince Jason to show up. Though he tried to hide it, he was worried about Pit, too; he’d described it to them, a few times, that sludge-like haze that took him over, nausea in places that couldn’t be nauseous—he wanted it gone just as much as they did. More than they did, probably. When Bruce had told him someone in the Justice League might know what to do, he’d barely even complained about clearing his schedule for the night.

Phantom takes one look at Bruce’s son, and promptly blanches. 

“Holy shit. Dude, that has to hurt so bad.” Seeming stuck between getting closer and coiling away, Phantom looks at Batman, and then at the Red Hood, back forth. 

Bruce can’t take his eyes off Jason, for all that he can’t see an expression from beneath the helmet. “What is that supposed to mean?” Batman asks, barely refraining from a growl. 

“It’s—you’re like, the closest thing to a revenant a guy can get without being a revenant and, y’know, forming a core. You’ve got some natural ecto in you, but it’s completely swamped by the corruption trying to breach it.”

Jason doesn’t move, but Bruce can see the way his fists clench and unclench at his sides, trying to look relaxed and perhaps succeeding to Phantom, but not his father. “Right, yeah, cool. That’s great,” Red Hood replies, voice made forcibly neutral by the helmet’s modulator. “Laymen’s terms, if you’d be so obliged?”

Phantom shrugs, also trying to look causal- but, unlike Jason, both of them can tell he’s uncomfortable. “Okay, so we’ll call the ectoplasm death energy. You’ve got some of your own—which means you’ve either died, got really close, or you were exposed to natural death energy some other way—and you had that before you came into contact with a corrupted source of death energy. But then you came intocontact with this corrupted death energy, and it got absorbed into your system. If you had a core, which is this thing that ghosts have, that would be, like, urgently bad. It’d basically rot your core once the corruption reached it and you’d cease to exist without intervention.”

He pauses for a second there, just to let them absorb that information before continuing. “As it is, you don’t have a core, so the corrupted ectoplasm- sorry, death energy- isn’t going to kill you or anything. But it’s definitely not good for you. You need oxygen to live, obviously—the natural energy makes you kind of a microaerophile, but we don’t need to worry about that right now, because the corrupted energy is an obligate anaerobe that’s already been poisoned by oxygen contact, and it’s trying to take over the energy you already have to save itself. But… it can’t save itself. All it can do is just keep clinging on so it doesn’t rot away completely. Your energy is renewing itself enough that the corruption isn’t going to rot you by extension, but you can probably feel it doing something, can’t you?”

Jason, apparently, decides this is a ‘helmet-off’ kind of conversation now (he only does that when he finds it hard to breathe; Bruce wishes he could make this easier on his boy—), and releases the catches on the back of his hood with a mechanical hiss. 

“I get angry.” He admits carefully, trying to keep his expression blank. “It feels like somethin’ in me starts rebelling against itself, and I end up lashing out at everything. It… yeah, it does hurt.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know about this sooner.” Phantom says, tone soft. 

Red Hood waves him off immediately. “Not your fault. But, you’re here now; can you do anything about it, or is this just somethin’ that’s gonna have to run its course, or whatever?”

“I can separate it,” Phantom answers quickly, reassuring. “It’s trying to cling, but it isn’t actually part of you. The corruption can be removed. The only thing is just, y’know…”

“Know what?” Batman says, suddenly nervous; thrilled beyond beliefto hear that his son won’t have to suffer anymore, but dreading getting his hopes up. Dreading the but.

The ghost looks back at him. “I think I mentioned that normal ectoplasm can be a little bit sentient? Or, well, gain sentience?” Batman nods stiffly, Jason’s glitch between stilling and fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s been clinging to you for a while; this stuff’s probably going to come out as a ghost of its own, and I highly doubt it’s going to be friendly.”

Jason stares. “But you said the stuff can’t exist without leeching off me?”

“Yeah,” Phantom nods, something unpleasant on the tip of his tongue. “It won’t last long without you, but it might try to attack, or reabsorb. You can’t let it reabsorb.”

“Figured that, yeah.” Red Hood scoffs. “We doing this now, or what?”

Phantom hesitates, but assents. “I’ve got some gear in my bag. We can do it as soon as you’re ready.”

…

It takes them a few minutes to get kitted up. Phantom shows them the spectre-deflectors—explaining how he’ll separate the corrupted ectoplasm from Jason, and how he’ll have to put the deflector on immediately after to prevent the corruption from reabsorbing—with Batman wearing one too, just in case. Phantom can defend himself just fine, and the corruption will likely only take a few minutes to completely fade. They don’t even need anything else.

Jason is looking around like he can barely believe what’s about to happen and, quite frankly, Bruce can hardly comprehend it himself. Jason’s struggled with the Pit Madness for years, and to have an option to get rid of it, once and for all? It’s like a dream Bruce never wants to wake up from; he’s wished for this for years. He’s wanted so desperately for his son to be happy without something looming in the shadows, and all at once, it’ll finally be over.

When Phantom asks if they’re both ready, it takes only half a moment to push past the surreality of it all and say yes. Red Hood readies his deflector, and with one crack of his knuckles, Phantom reaches through the man’s chest, and pulls something out. 

…Someone. Phantom pulls someone out of Jason’s chest. 

Someone red, and yellow, and green, and crying. 

Oh God. Oh God.

Jason doesn’t even look up until his deflector’s secured, and Bruce is so, so glad his own was fastened long beforehand, because it’d have dropped from his hands the moment his eyes fell on white-out domino. He’d expected the corruption to look like a monster; Batman had been prepared to steel himself in the face of an incorrigible beast trying its damnedest to cling to his son. He hadn’t expected, not even for a moment, that the leech poisoning his kid would look like a little boy. 

The one he lost in a warehouse five years ago. 

He wants to call out to Jason not to lift his gaze, but like a film in slow motion, his son’s head raises, and his whole body freezes, twitching back like he’s been doused in cold water. He stares like he’s seeing everything, and nothing at all.

Robin—the corruption, turns to Phantom with a snarl on his lips (Its lips. Its. He cannot think of this like his son. He cannot think of this like his son when Jason is right there in front of him). 

“YOU!”It roars, in Jason’s scratchy fifteen-year-old pitch, shooting over to Phantom with its tiny, green-gloved fists clenched tight enough to creak. He hadn’t known it would be able to speak. “What did you do?!”

Phantom looks as if he’s about to say something, but the corruption’s attention has already been diverted. His (its, its, its) eyes are set on Jason. 

“Why did you-?” It cries out, choking on its own tears, face contorting into a grief and an anger Bruce had never seen on his son’s face until it was too late, rushing towards him. Jason takes a stumbling few steps back—and he isn’t fast enough to avoid the corruption’s reach—but it doesn’t matter anyway, because the spectre deflector lights up, and the ghost wails as the shock reaches it. The electricity seems to destabilise it, too; its form glitches and seems to melt a little. 

Bruce feels sick. This corruption that was trying to kill his son is heaving huge, gasping sobs, falling apart at the seams, and Bruce feels like he’s about to throw up. “What’s happening?” He croaks. “It-it hurts, I don’t understand.”

And then it turns its see-through little head to Bruce, teardrops rolling down splotchy cheeks still round with baby fat, and his heart drops right through his stomach and out to the other side of the earth.

“…Dad?”

No.

Bruce stumbles backwards, whole body trembling like his chest’s the epicentre of a personal earthquake, barely saved from falling by a weak grip on the Batcomputer chair. He wants to look away, but all he can see is his baby’s crestfallen face, dying all over again, and he doesn’t want to see this but he can’t stop watching.

The ghost lurches forward again and this time, Phantom silently flicks a hand out, and some kind of green forcefield forms around it. The silhouette of his fifteen-year-old son beats at the shield. His cries are muffled by it, but Bruce can still hear them. He can’t help but think that this is what Jason sounded like in Ethiopia, crying out for a father than would never get there in time. His son’s dying all over again, and he’s just standing there.

“Let him out.” Bruce pleads, voice rasping. “We have to save him.” He can see it through the green tinge of the barrier: Jason’s fading fast. The tips of his fingers and pixie boots are disappearing into thin air. 

Phantom turns to him with utter devastation in his eyes. “Bats, that’s not Jason.” He says, just as the twenty-year-old son that came back tumbles knees-first onto the floor, head leaning forward until his forehead touches stone. It’s the smallest he’s ever seen him in the last five years. 

That’s what snaps him out of it, if only for a moment. He falls over himself reaching for Jason, curling around him like a blanket of kevlar and heartbreak. This close to his son’s head, he can hear the quiet hiccuping of tears. 

They sit there, for the world’s most unbearable two minutes, as a version of his son pretending to be his son sobs and screams and falls apart. Bruce’s surroundings blur between the cave and a warehouse on the horizon, shimmering like a mirage under a hot African sun—his son is right here, safe in his hold, but he’s dying over and over, infinitely again, and Bruce can never stop it. 

Two minutes later, the world rings out with “Dad, I’m sorry!” and a muted scream, before silence is the only thing that’s left. 

…

Phantom gives his boy a completely clean bill of health, promises that his uncorrupted ectoplasm will sustain itself just fine without any further intervention, and leaves the moment Batman asks him to. 

Jason is free from the corruption that had been draining him like a leech for the last five years, and so long as he doesn’t go back to the Pit, he’ll be free of it for the rest of his life. He won’t have to hurt people with an anger he can’t control anymore; Bruce will no longer have to watch his son suffer from a rot welling deep within him ever again. 

This should be one of the happiest days of his life. But that night, he and his second oldest walk to a hill with a tombstone at its peak, hiding beneath the shade of a yew tree; neither of them acknowledge that the other is crying beyond the barest glimpse of fingertips ghosting together. 

In time, this will be a good day, but the relief comes later. For now, they sit down beside each other, worlds away, and don’t move until the sun rises the next morning.

(Jason apologises to a boy he will never be again—that he left in a coffin and never took with him—and Bruce apologises to son he could never save in time. In the end, the only evidence they have of their grief at all is a phantom scream in the wells of their ears, and a stone on the top of a hill with nothing underneath it at all.)

Short DPXDC Prompts #770

Danny cures Jason’s pit madness.. only issue is the pit madness reforms as an evil ghost

[lxdymoon0357]

Hello, I would like a request from the manhwa, I became a rival of the male protagonists of yandere +18 Benjamin Lemberk with a nomadic elf reader who, upon seeing her for the first time, becomes obsessed with her. She has the appearance and personality of Florentia Lombardi, please.

(NSFW CONTENT, warnings: unprotected sex, (this is fictional, y'all..Be safe), face sitting, hair pulling, clit play, dacryphilia, putting out cigarettes or cigars onto skin, pain kink, humiliation kink, spanking, dumbification. somewhat toxic? A bit cringe, OOC but not really, he's just a cruel bastard. Mostly jut NSFW headcanons, nothing too elf-ish specific, I'd say, sorry. Fem! Reader. Reader has ginger-ish hair. Florentia Lombardi! Reader)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Benjamin Lemberk X Elf?Reader NSFW Headcanons

ஐ Benjamin Lemberk, is a man of certain taste, having somehow fallen out of Claudine's loving circle, has his eyes kept tight on the little nomadic elf, that became his new loving obsession. Of-course how far do you think you'll go before you crawl back to him? Not too far off, of-course. It isn't long before you're under him, crying as thrusted his dick into you, while you clawed at the blanket.

ஐ Of-course he does. His hips moving in circle, the balmy skin slapping on skip as his cock basically scoffed to the hilt inside your folds, your eyes dazed as you whined, your ass against his thighs as he moved fast and rough, laughing through his groans every time you cried out and clawed at the sheet and begging him to be nicer.

ஐ His hand shoving your face into the sheets, while you tried to stay dignified, act all poised and elegant all you want in public, but you're not getting any point or shred of dignity while he's fucking you. His fingers just roughly rubbing and pressing down on your clit, making sure you're crying till you can't breath, only sobbing into the sheets-

ஐ He makes sure you're not even breathing, if he could have it..his hand is his favourite necklace on you, squeezing your throat to feel your gummy walls squeeze down on him, trying to milk him for all he's worth, till you're almost passing out, only that's when he's removing his hand and instead grabbing your hips to pull you down on his cock.

ஐ With the rather optimal option to fuck your throat, he just loves to stuff your mouth full, your gags are his personal music, your throat his personal pocket pussy, he just smirks down laughing at you when you're crying, spitting out his cum which he'll only spread across your face using his tip..He has shame in fucking a little tease, his personal cock-tease.

ஐ Giving you backshots, till it sounds like he's playing bongos on your ass...till you're going dumb on his cock, your ass jingling with ever swat he gives, noe hand stuffed with your hair, pulling it to pull you back every time you tried to escape his grip, fucking your pussy and swiping his hand on your clit, your juices coating his hips as he moved them in circular motions to hit that spongy g-spot with accelerations in his hips, pulling your head back to arch your back till you're gasping on his cock..

ஐ He doesn't just hit for pleasure, if he's gonna hit it...He'll hit it till your mind breaks. Bejamin's hands trapping both your droopy ankles with one dextrous set of his thick fingers, dragging you about halfway down the king-sized mattress in an instant. He’s oh-so-greedily pinning them over the curvaceous dip of his deltoids with a mean, sweat-slicked palm, “Don’t tell me yer hah- tapping out after only three minutes?”  

ஐ He'll humiliate you in public if he doesn't get what he wants at times, his hand gently squeezing your throat and if he's not getting what he wants right then and there..he's gonna make sure he'll get more than enough, he'll overindulge in your fucking cunt till he's breaking you apart-

ஐ Half-way through, when you're barely registering anything, he'll make you use your own powers on yourself. Making sure his little elf is kept under his control, he kisses your ears, bits them gently, leaving hickeys or tiny bite marks on them, shoving your face down in the covers, till he can only see your pointed ears twitching while you're out your md and mindlessly causing plants to sprout from random places due to the heat of the moment.

ஐ He loves to see you struggle with registering anything, the biiiig stretch of his cock till you're feeling him in your tummy, crying as your legs kick out when his swipes his thumb on your clit till he swats on your juicy cunt..covering his hand in juices, putting out his cigarettes on your back of your thighs if he's especially upset at you.

7 minutes, 28 seconds.

"Ah-ah-ah..Hah, fuckin' tease..this is is-ngh....what you wante', no?" Benjamin smirks on top of you, his hand bundled up in your ginger-esque wavy hair, pulling it back with his fist bundled in it as he moved his hips ahead, every hit causing you to swing forward. Ben's movements aren't just rude— He's cruel and mean and so SO painful-

Your hips thrashing into the sheets as you whined, your legs quivering as you tried to claw at the mattress, moving ahead a bit just as his hand hits your ass, before kneading it in between his fingers,

"Beenjiii- Ah-Ooooh...fu-fuck, ha-...ha!" barely formulating words, his mean hips kept hitting into that one spot. Any words formulating were now simply washing away with every thrust he hits like he's mad at your G-spot

Benjamin snickers down at your little form, one hand tightly bundled into your half gingerish-hair half your usual hair colour..his other hand smoking a cigar softly, smirking as he hit his hips meanly.

His eyes fell on the mirror just ahead of you while he was blowing out smoke, already steaming up due to your laboured breathing and drool, as you kept whining, "Bennnn, hard-harder-more...want more-mo..want more..!" you kept whining, HIS mindless little fuckdoll.

Soft tits glissading up and down up and down the sweat-slicked plane of the wide, cushiony satin pillows. So drunken. So pliant. And he can’t help but plant a soppy smack! against the hooded of your puffy clit with one free hand. 

Only making you let out a soft and whiny "Oooooh...! Beennnjiii" arching your back and shoving your ass back onto his cock, your cunt doing most of the talking to speak how much you needed him to fuck you, all while stretching his name as if it'll get you more sympathy from him.

No-It can't be...? Can it?

His smirk almost widens as he takes a slow drag from the cigar as he pulled out and shoved you to turn you on your back and pull up onto his lap using your throat roughly. Moving his tip around to cover his tip with your juices like lipgloss, while your cunt kept crying with the sound of sluck-sluck! every time Benjamin moved his hips around to grind against your puffy lips, before simply shoving his cock deep into your cunt.

Breath hitching choppily, he’s grabbing your throat - dragging you like some ragdoll until you were only mere condensed inches away from him. You couldn’t be…could you?

"Too-Hah...biig...hah-Hmm Bennn-" You back arching, your tits pressing against his wide pecs, which he take the chance as he blows out smoke from the cigar, before ht stubs it on your midriff, causing you to only whine out softly, grinding down your shimmying hips onto his cock.

Oh.

But of course he can’t leave his dear elf-ish wife hanging - especially not when you’re all fucking yourself stupid on him like this within only 7 minutes and 28 seconds, no no no..!~

He can almost smile at how humiliating will it be in your prideful face, now turning into lewd like a little slut..

Tongue stuck out, lips glossy and covered in drool, tits and ass all red from spanks...Your powers going haywire to produce tiny flowers at random spots on your skin or causing the plants you kept near his bed to overgrow into large wild plants..

He can only smirk, his cock-drunk little elvish-slut..How perfect she looks, dumbed out for him??

[queenendless]

🍑 TIME

A/n: The twerk GIFS got to me! All credit for the GIFS involved goes to @screampied for the Gojo and Sukuna ones, @heian-era-housewife for the Shiu Kong one, @mahgyu for the Geto one, and @blkkizzat for the Toji one. THNX U ALL for the glory that is JJK TWERKING~!

🔞 MDNI CONTENT. JJK men twerking for their lives, sub!JJK men x dom!GN!reader, ass cheeks clapping, ass slapping, ass marking, ass eating, ass abuse, cum time, impromptu ass piece. Also first time writing Sukuna and Shiu so go easy on me.

©️ PLEASE DONT PLAGIRIZE, COPY, TRANSLATE, EDIT, REPOST, AND ETC TO MY FAN WORK. Rather like comment reblog share and follow cause I personally want to reach close to 1k follows on this blog by the end of the year pls n thnx.

SYPNOSIS: OH, TWERKING IN YOUR FACE, BIG ASS MISTAKE~

GOJO with his cheeky ass grin growing every passing moment you demanded he strip those skinny pants down. Boxers included. Shameless heathen. Hanging over the bed's edge as you straddle his skinny thighs. You drum those bare melons like your own personal bongos. Granted, your cheeky bastard asked for it. And those loud passionate mewls of his earned him your red hand prints on his rippling hills. Literally chewing on them peaches came right after, your nose poking out of his ass crack while your mouth sucked his asshole, having him come one too many times against the strewn sheets to both your likings. Stroking his veiny coated dong between his lower valleys made it that much more tasty to suck him off, with his cock cumming again in your very grasp.

"Ohhh, honey loves my buns~! Yes you do – AAAAAH~!"

GETO bashfully blushes, his veiny knuckles pressed hard to his mouth to muffle his grunts and moans of painful pleasure as you spanked, clawed and teethed on those supple succulent peaches quite insistently. This cult head laid on his side along the mat covered platform, clawed the sheets with his free hand as his legs spasmed with those poofy ass pants hung off his calves like pooled up velvet. The ministrations your tongue gives drives him mad. Slobbering and slithering into his hole quite deeply with skillful strokes before suckling downwards. Like his pecs, his peaches smothered your face cheeks. Teasingly nipping at his leaky balls had his dong spasm and spurt in your face. You licking his cum off your face right into his had him squirt longer and harder.

"D – Darling~! Don't ever st — stop – AAH~!"

TOJI the physically gifted super human slash sorcerer killer that he lazily splays along the couch on his ripped tum tum, his ass practically jutting out right in your burning face, browsing his phone casually. Only to literally crush it in two with his giant beefy hand. Straddling his hips, you press his form into the cushions, as you knead and massage his chiseled cheeks, digging your nails in, before sucking aggressively to the point where your lip imprints are scattered along his now reddening bruised skin. His hips buckle sporadically right into yours but with such steel restraint not to literally shoot you up into the ceiling. The couch cushions however were torn to shreds as his stream of feral profanity fills the air as does his guttural carnal shouts of fervor.

"FUCK baby~! Starving for me already huh — NGH SHIT~!"

SUKUNA the literal King of Curses would be as amused as he would be resting his head atop two folded arms along his Malevolent Shrine, letting you lay atop him while you smack his cheeks together just to hear his skin clapping. On top of biting, tugging on his skin between your teeth, and nuzzling them fine giant melons had you on Cloud 9. His other two arms would possessively gripped on your hair to tug on now and then as well as fondle and smack your own bare tussy, his mouths popping out of his palms to layer bloody bite marks on you to get even. Raunchily making out with his a-hole had his giant cheeks suffocate your face, nearly passing out in the process from the light headed state you were left in his clapping cheeks freed you just to smack his double dripping dongs in your face to shower you in cum to lick off yourself. Guess he did get excited.

"Oh human~ To think you would react to that so sinfully~ Interesting~"

SHIU the mediator of dealings between the shady and the shadiest should have known you'd be down for a show and what it would entail at the end. The burnt out cig between his lips would fall out. Strewn across his marble work desk, you lounged in his rolling desk chair as you massaged and groped his peaches to loosen up his fatigued state. Leaving deep imprints engrained into mounds blushing in thanks. Too much workload means easily becoming mush in your titilating touch. Rutting within his fist now coated in creamy thickness as it dripped down his work pants pooled around his ankles. Wiping up some cum from his fist to your fingers, wiping it along his crack, to suck it up sloppily, including right up his hole. That got him moaning out passionately.

"Mmm~! Love, please don't let up now~! So GOOD~!"

[fagus-sylvatica-beech-hedge]

reblog for fandometrics and sample size etc etc

[kaifougere666]

I made a short animation including Joxter, with the song bongo bong of Manu Chao

Please go and like/comment the video, don't let it flop !

Also, my tweening is slightly improving yay

Likes, reblogs, comments heavily appreciated

Also, here is the lip sync bc I'm proud of it

Tumblr fucking ruined the quality I wanna kms but whatever

[bongo-clash]

@stealingyourbones Saw this and remembered you like HLVRAI!!!

Silly crossover update after like 2 years let’s go

[lightscamerabitchsmileee]

Vote for your fave, reblog & share your thoughts and other faves (even outside of this list) I would love to hear it 😊😊

Check out my masterpost for the other open polls thank you and have fun 😊😊

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Lady C Tea Christmas Eve 2024 (The "Meghan is a Nightmare Across Many Continents" Edition - a few nuggets paraphrased by me) by u/daisybeach23

Lady C Tea Christmas Eve 2024 (The "Meghan is a Nightmare Across Many Continents" Edition - a few nuggets paraphrased by me) Greetings from Castle Goring,I was told something by someone who shall remain rather opaque.  This person was on the delegation of Harry and Meghan’s Colombia trip.  Oh my, it is so delicious to be told something that everyone suspected.  I was told Harry was fine.  Nobody complained about him.  I was told that Meghan is a living nightmare.  She was demanding.  She was abrasive.  She didn’t want to interact with people beyond the photo ops, including the children.  She had to be pressured to earn her keep.  She was a nightmare to such an extent that Vice President Marquez stormed off and said she wanted nothing to do with Meghan.  She felt Meghan was running up expenses and not living up to her end of the bargain.  VP Marquez wanted Meghan there as a woman of color and wanted Meghan to help press that agenda.  VP Marquez now realized her judgement was poor to have anything to do with Meghan. And now my bongo bongo drums are beating in a different direction.  Netflix wants to dump them.  They are trying to find a way to dump them that will save face, save Ted Sarandos’ face, and stop any more money being spent on them.  Evidently, ARO is not impressing them.  A top executive says they are losers and Meghan is a witch with a B.  I have also been given another bit of news. Lady C applauds the NYPD for mocking Harry.  She says Harry is an idiot to believe he was in a high speed car chase near Times Square.Lady C, why didn’t Netflix do any advertising for POLO?  Do you think Netflix wanted it to flop so they could get out of their contract?  Your reasoning is very interesting.  Netflix did not promote POLO at all.  I don’t think Netflix wanted it to flop but early on realized they had a flop on their hands.  I understand that Netflix cannot stand Meghan and find her very difficult to work with.  They think Harry is stupid and stubborn.    They would have loved to have a continuing relationship with Harry and Meghan, especially if they had remained Their Royal Highnesses, but they loathe Meghan in particular.    They have tarnished their own brand.  They have revealed themselves to be uninteresting and unpopular.  It will be interesting to see how Netflix extricate themselves.  If they can dump Harry and Meghan, they will do it.  If they can’t, they will ease them out.  Before they even made a program with Netflix, they showed themselves to be unreliable partners because Netflix watched Harry and Meghan give away content to Oprah.  I gather Oprah paid money to them, maybe through Archewell.Lady C, I’ve been noticing that the Daily Mail seems to be bending over backwards lately for Meghan.  They seem to be absolving her of blame for anything.  They say the trouble started when Princess Michael wore the blackamoor brooch.  Isn’t it interesting how these stories seem to be regurgitated.  Princess Michael wore a moretto veneziano which is a sign of racial inclusiveness, not racial exclusivity.  Princess Michael said she was sorry if her brooch caused offense, not that she was sorry.  I don’t think she should have done it.  She should have explained the history of her brooch and that anything otherwise was misunderstood.  This is all rubbish.  Meghan always playing the race card.Toodles Sinners!PS…Nothing new from Lady C but I thought I would post anyway. Merry Christmas and I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season! post link: https://ift.tt/Ceq39Ol author: daisybeach23 submitted: December 25, 2024 at 05:55AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[bongo-clash]

Based on the Hamster Ball Danny post from @dissociativecatmeme

[brightgreendandelions]

How i've met all of mutuals

i think

@greetings-inferiors i found him in the notes of a post by Bettina Levy, and liked his giant red button!

@thearomancer a second mutual twice removed form Randy

@dead-immortal same thing with Bettina Levy, but this time because of the post limit. such fun!!

@myconetted i liked one of their programming meme, and commented on it, as if op couldn't see my post (this is a common problem for me i guess)

@logorrhea5mip i liked his post about neopronouns, and he found some discworld books for me

@talesimagination i think also Bettina Levy, but i'm not sure

@universallysublimetree some post about math

@fraudfrogs i liked his pfp, but i don't remember how i found him. probably thru Adrien

@tokinanpa something about math and jan Misali (can you tell my memory is getting worse?)

@shadowdragon3214 they had a really cute pfp with that bongo cat meme, and i followed them just because. and like literally yesterday they decided to follow me back.

@aral750 Bettina Levy again

@faeraga i liked her complex polynomial website, and complimented the hell out of it in one of the reblogs

@green-mountain-goose they liked my post about tom scott, and sort of merged into my tumblr circle

sorry if someone didn't want to be tagged

[bongo-clash]

JUST REALISED I NEVER MADE AN INTRO POST

Hi!! It's Bongo!! This is my main account where I post DP and DPxDC stuff!! I mostly write and reblog on here, but I have drawn stuff a couple of times lmao!!

Ao3 is bongo_balderdash!!

Sideblogs are as follows!!

@bongo-spindash (new Sonic sideblog!! Also made a pseud on Ao3 for it by the same name (just with a _ instead of -)!!)

@bongo-balderdash (misc. reblogging and occasional writing updates!!)

@bongo-smash (DC only sideblog; not an awful lot on it though lmao!!)

Writing & art on all blogs is tagged the same!! [#Bongo's Writing!!!] & [#Bongo's Art!!!] respectively!! I do have [#Bongo Speaks!!!] for general thoughts, but I don't really use it much lmao!!

Asks and DMs are open on all blogs, so feel free to send stuff my way!! :D

[unexpectedgeese]

OK gang listen the FUCK up. There's a genocide happening right now in Palestine and it's going to get worse if we don't do something. WE ARE GOING TO DO SOMETHING. We are, in fact, all going to do SEVERAL somethings, right now. If you're scared, do it scared-- don't let the (completely rational!) fear of a genocide stop you from stopping said genocide.

Let's do this thing.

Step one: go to this link. There will be a button. click the button. congrats, you just helped! Bookmark the page, set an alarm for the same time tomorrow, and click the button then too. repeat this process.

You back now? Great! Thanks for taking that first step. I know it's hard but it's WORTH IT.

Step two: Here's some links to petitions to sign. DON'T GET INTIMIDATED. This won't be as hard as lizard brain says it is. All you have to do is fill out your name, email, and address. It takes like thirty seconds. Links: Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, and here (IF you live in the UK).

Thank you for signing those. I'm super proud of you. Just two more steps to go!

Step three (FOR US RESIDENTS ONLY): it's phone call time. Yeah, I know that's terrifying for a lot of us. It is to me too! But don't worry-- you're stronger than scared brain will tell you. The site will give you a script and everything-- follow it, don't follow it, it works either way. besides, odds are you're going to voicemail, so don't fret over talking to a stranger. Here's the link.

ANNNNDD we're done. For some extra credit, look up protests in your area-- there's one in DC on the 4th, for example. But for now, take a breather. Go see bongo cat. You did GREAT.

Also, reblog this if you want. Reblog chains are how word spreads!