#I was the weird kid who bit people to show that I liked them

[bitstitchbitch]

*spoilers for the dragon prince seasons 1-7 ahead*

okay, but in runaan’s pov (and forgive me if I get anything wrong here),

he goes off to kill a king and prince and… brings his daughter along. His daughter gives them away so he makes her stay behind (probably to save her life tbh) but she goes anyway and tries to convince him it’s a big mistake while protecting the adopted son of the king he’s there to kill. So then Runaan fights his own daughter but she gets away with the adopted son.

So, runaan goes back to his job and kills the king, and the only weird thing is that the king kind of squawked at him in the end? People do strange things when they are about to die though so he doesn’t think too much of it. but because his daughter betrayed them he gets captured and then trapped in a coin by an evil mage. And he gets stuck in an in-between state of unfinished business for two years before his daughter comes and saves him.

and when he’s finally free, the adopted son of the king he killed is there, and also dating his daughter? And he can’t be mad about it because the adopted son is a mage (but somehow not a dark mage despite being human) and helped his daughter save him.

So while runaan is healing up, he has to watch his daughter date this ridiculous human (who actually doesn’t show much of a grudge towards runaan for murdering the king). But soon enough the boy goes to help his brother - who runaan was also supposed to kill.

and at this point, runaan just wants to go back to his lover, but when he’s finally well enough to travel, his daughter is like “actually I’m very sorry but we have to go back to the place where you were captured and trapped in a magic coin because I promised”

so runaan goes only to be yelled at by the prince, now king, that he failed to murder and is arrested for murdering the original king because unlike adopted son this son is very angry. A few days later, his daughter saves him with the eventual help of the adopted son / annoying human with the nerve to date his daughter. But it’s fine, he finally gets back to his lover. It’s a bit of a process to get his daughter unbanished, but after that everything should go back to how it was

except because adopted son went against his king brother to help runaan escape, he is now hanging around and make inane comments about how pretty the silver grove is and making out with runaan’s daughter. And, apparently, planning on having ten kids with said daughter. Yuck

but after only two weeks of the boy’s interloping, suddenly they find out that the world is at risk of ending. And now runaan is going on a road trip with the adopted son of man he murdered / potential son-in-law only to find that the person they were searching for is already murdered and then runaan has to save the boy’s life from an evil mage (different one, btw)

and then once the evil mage leaves, the boy (who runaan has really only known for a few weeks) declares his intent to commit dark magic to trap the evil elf trying to destroy the world, but makes runaan promise to assassinate him as soon as he does dark magic so that the evil elf can’t control him. Runaan agrees to this despite probably knowing that it would break his daughter’s heart

so they go back and the adopted son is standing there ready to cast the spell and runaan is standing there ready to shoot him when Runaan gets attacked by the dark mage and thrown to the ground. Thankfully things still work out and the people who runaan care about (including the adopted son, who unfortunately wasn’t spared from using dark magic but isn’t at risk of being controlled anymore) make it out alive

so anyways, after things calm down and wanting to clear his name, runaan goes to the young king and submits to his justice. The young king forgives him, with difficulty, then asks a reasonable question. “Did my father have any last words?”

and runaan has to tell this young, twelve year old king that the last sound his father made was a squawk. Only this seems to have real significance for the people in the room and now there’s a very real chance that the person you assassinated isn’t actually dead but, somehow, swapped bodies with a… bird???

but we don’t actually know because the next season isn’t renewed.

anyways, runaan had a rough time of it

[starlightwayfinder]

Do you have any headcanons about Ven you'd like to talk about?

Always!! Okay first, here’s the fluffy ones:

He gives good hugs. Really good ones. The kind you can just melt into! He brings a sunshiny warmth with him wherever he goes, both metaphorically and literally.

You could make him laugh with the cheesiest jokes ever. It wouldn’t be hard at all.

He can’t actually talk to birds/animals ‘Disney princess’ style, but they will let him get unusually close, or will approach him without fear. Terra and Aqua were baffled at first, but now they’re used to it and forget that other people will find it weird.

He’s got a decent book collection in his room. It’s mostly a mix of Keyblade history, astronomy, and fairytales. He and Aqua will sit together and have tea while they read.

He can and will fall asleep anywhere. Again, Terra and Aqua are just used to it by now.

He likes watching the sunrise almost as much as he likes stargazing.

He spars with Terra the most, and always gets upset that he’s holding back. Terra, however, is just trying not to send him flying by accident.

If he and Terra do roughhouse, (they are ‘brothers’ after all..) it’s very playful and all in good fun. Aqua just sighs and makes some comment about the friendship between boys. 

Unsurprisingly, Ven likes to feel the wind in his hair—which most of the time means going fast on his Keyblade glider. He would also love roller coasters, surfing, etc. 

He also loves flying and will go back to Neverland every now and then for more pixie dust.

He’s a fast runner and does pretty well in races on Destiny Islands, but he’s not a super competitive person, so he doesn’t care too much about winning.

He helps Kairi get into a training routine when she moves in. He becomes a bit of a mentor, but more in the sense of a fellow student/friend who already knows the ropes.

He has a cd player in his room for listening to his favorite songs. The others try to show him how to play music on his Gummiphone, but he doesn’t use it for much beyond taking pictures and the occasional phone call. He’d probably be a little shy about calls because it’s so unusual to him.

Since he was asleep for 10 years, he doesn’t know any of the new slang and has slightly outdated tastes, haha.

His favorite season is Spring, but he doesn’t dislike any of the seasons. You can bet that when the weather warms up, he’ll be outside enjoying the sun and looking for dandelions.

He enjoys all types of weather too—except for bad storms, which he’s always disliked.

He got a little bed for Chirithy that goes unused because they always fall asleep in his arms. 

And here’s the deeper ones:

Ven is overall a sensitive guy, which means he can’t stomach most violent or disturbing movies/games/etc. The problem with this is that he can’t stand being treated like a little kid either. I imagine he would be the sort to agree to watch something out of peer pressure… then be unable to fall asleep at night thinking about it. Finally Terra or Aqua has to step in and say “you don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable to fit in”. 

That sort of thing is frustrating for him in general. Thanks to everything that’s happened to his heart and mind, he technically *is* kind of younger—yet, it’s also just his personality and who he is. It’s not necessarily due to a lack of maturity. 

That being said, I think he’d be really good with kids—and I know I’ve said it before somewhere, but he would make a great camp counselor or something. Can’t you imagine him leading activities or songs with a group of kids?

He’s more shy in UX because he’s surrounded by older Keyblade wielders and used to being rejected by them (since he doesn’t bring much to the table in terms of physical strength or magical ability.) In BbS, he’s more outgoing because he’s been living with the same people for years and it’s all exciting and new. He’s always been an introvert, but he still loves making friends… It just doesn’t come quite as naturally to him as it does to Sora, and Ven’s more likely to think he did something wrong if someone dislikes him. 

In other words, he’s the sort of guy who would go to a party and end up sitting on the floor to pet the dog the whole time.

If someone does hurt his feelings, however, he’s quick to forgive them and try to restore the relationship.

Thanks to Ven being a more sensitive person, he’s very comforting and compassionate: a trustworthy friend to talk to when you’re feeling down. He’s especially nonjudgmental and a good listener. I imagine most of the guardians’ first impression of him is either ‘quiet and unassuming’ or writing him off as silly / immature. Typically, only Terra and Aqua see that deeper side of his personality—but if the opportunity arises, he gets a chance to shine.

Since he’s pure of heart, he really can’t wrap his head around *why* people would use the darkness/be cruel to others intentionally. It doesn’t click in his mind at all. He’s not ‘innocent’ in the sense of being *ignorant* to that sort of thing, but rather just never feeling the urge to act that way. Does that make sense?

He’s a genuinely good, sincere guy. I love him 💖

[bitchslapblastoids]

so we’re doing the sappy year-end affectionate thing, yeah?

I spent most of my phandom years feeling like a barnacle under a ship that d&p were steering and you were all the actual passengers of. During the time I spent lurking, it felt like fandom culture had changed so drastically that re-entering in any active way would be terrifying. But then I finished writing a phanfic that I’d originally started in 2015. And then I posted it and some people liked it. And meanwhile, I had already been feeling complicated feelings about the lack of engagement with fic and writing across all fandoms. And doubly meanwhile, things just kept getting more and more unhinged in the Dan and Phil universe, and I just wanted to yell about it. So I finally caved, made this blog, and stopped being a hypocrite who whined about how fandom wasnt interactive anymore while I wasn’t actually interacting myself.

The difference between lurking and participating in the ecosystem was that I realized I was a bit wrong. Bc people on here don’t just taketaketake; there is a wonderfully supportive fabric of celebration for creative works, of kindness and warmth towards one another. It’s a small community, but so alive!!

All my weird-kid traits that I keep compartmentalized and tightly managed (read: suffocated) as I cosplay daily as a somewhat normie-adult suddenly had somewhere to thrive and be externalized again. I gained access to this universe that i get to be a tiny cocreator of that is full of delight and silliness and warmth and hilarity. It stood in such contrast to my irl world that has been in flux - moving away from somewhere I loved and people I loved, coping with new peaks of mental illness in my family, building a life in a new city that felt (feels) lonely so lonely, falling victim to my own depressive self isolation habits. but here was an outlet, and suddenly my mind was a creative place to be again. It had been a while since that had been true.

and then tit happened and while I have known for a long time that concerts are the single most euphoric experiences in my life, I’ve always gone alone and anonymous and relished in the presence of unspoken community around me, the experience that feels religious and sacred, sharing in some rapturous devotion to an artist and their music and then all parting ways afterwards. But tit was something new. I’d seen Dan and Phil before, all the times. But never as someone actively embedded in the community enough to actually speak to people. When I bought the tickets, I intended on being fully invisible at my shows. Months later when I actually went, one of the most joyful parts of the experience was all of you, talking to people around me, seeing phannies in the flesh, and yelling on here about it all. It was truly euphoric. When I say it was bouying, I mean it. I felt high for days.

The people I’ve befriended on here or whose ideas and work and vibes I just absorb through their presence on my dash have reminded me how to see beyond the restraints of cookie cutter daily life, how to be radical and loving and how to embrace weirdness and love those parts of yourself, but how to openly love them in other people too; how to signpost that you’re an open recipient for someone’s weird, that their weird is safe around you. Dan and Phil have always done that too, haven’t they?

I started to think about all the people whose brightness and brilliance has touched me in some way on here this year, and the list was immediately too long to even hold in my brain. But probably if you’re reading this, you’re one of those people. Thank you for being around and sharing who you are 🩵

Sometimes I still get a little sad about the level of engagement fic gets vs other creative endeavors on here. But being a part of this renassiance and sharing in a mini writing community within this broader phannie ecosystem has been sooooooooo rewarding. I’m deliriously happy to get to know such an incredibly creative and generous and passionate bunch of humans.

happy 2025 phumblr!! i think we better buckle in for another wild fucking ride. 🧡🧡🧡

[theokusgallery]

I freaking love your au and your latest comic because MAN

I FELT THOSE LAST WORDS AND I WAS LIKE "OH FUCK"

First panel was already a bit unsettling itself - like you get it's just intimate manners as you do as a couple but he felt so possessive already and

Sunny's inner thoughts

I'm sure 100% his abandonment anxiety will increase drastically the more he stays with nick and honestly slay

I mean it's kinda obvious

But like I felt that

Yeah

Nick is unhinged

Nick is crazy

Y'all are gay for him

Good 😵💥

Sunny has soooo many issues. So many of them. He's so vulnerable and he makes himself vulnerable to Nick while still being intimidated by him, it's... Dude's got some problems.

[reasonsforhope]

This is kind of a weird reason for hope, honestly, but it genuinely changed how I think about catastrophe.

Historical fact that you probably do not know:

At least 30-50% of the population of Pompeii survived.

Maybe even the majority of the people of Pompeii survived.

(The numbers 30-50% there are according Professor J. Theodore Peña, a professor of ancient Roman archeology who studies Pompeii, whom I took a class on Pompeii with in 2018. The numbers of "maybe even the majority" are from articles linked below.)

Yes, that Pompeii, the one where the entire city was swallowed by a volcanic eruption.

And no, I'm not kidding. x, x, x, x, x, x

So how this is possible, that anyone could survive, when the entire city was literally buried in volcanic ash? And the answer is that the eruption actually took place over the course of almost 24 hours, as the earthquakes and clouds of smoke emitting from Pompeii gradually got worse and worse, followed by the ejection of ash and giant stones that gradually escalated, until the fifth pyroclastic flow (aka giant wave of searing hot ash) hit the city.

So, people had a bit less than 24 hours to flee the city. And many of them did, whether by boat or cart or horse or foot. And many of them made it.

Pompeii is the iconic, ultimate example we have, culturally, for a natural disaster that causes complete annihilation.

But it never caused complete annihilation at all. Not of the people who lived there.

I think climate change, ultimately, is going to be like Pompeii. Yes, there will be natural disasters. Yes, it will keep getting worse for a while.

Yes, people will die, and yes, we do need to act fast, and we need to do all that we can to save every single living being that we can.

But unlike the people of Pompeii, we have the ability to fix most of the effects of climate change. We have the ability to cool the planet down from whatever temperature it ultimately hits. (Masterpost on this here.)

Natural disasters fucking suck. But as the true story of Pompeii exemplifies, they are often a lot more survivable than we think. And we have benefits and resources and technology and knowledge above all communication that the people of Pompeii never did - in fact, we're getting so good at building for and detecting and warning for natural disasters that the number of people dying from natural disasters has been plummeting, even as natural disasters are getting worse and worse (x).

We are going to survive climate change (x). We are going to fix as much of it as we can (x). And we are going to rebuild afterward.

Because as the many survivors of Pompeii show, that's what humans do.

[thatbigbisexual29]

I’m gonna be totally honest here. I fucking cried. I cried at this scene because I know. I know what Luke does. I know Luke betrays him in the end. And this hurt like nothing else. And saying that this is the first time he’s had REAL FRIENDS????? Percy, my baby boy, I feel you 😭

“i hope you’re sitting down, but…i think…i’ve made some friends here. like, real friends. i think they might really like me. imagine that.” and he’s talking about luke castellan i’m gonna throw up

[auroraksr]

WAYS TO REALIZE [ LANDO NORRIS ]

synopsis: lando had been in love with his best friend for years, and here's how he's indirectly demonstrating it.

a/n: last bit has a 'nobody wants this' reference cause i binge watched it and i loved so deal with it (plus please go watch it is so good)

warning: credits to some of the ideas to @novelbear cause im in love with her prompts and had to do something with it. super fluff, friends to lovers, lando being whipped for y/n, fem!reader

wc: 1k

holding hands

lando always thought the best way to show his love was his hands.

he will get any excuse to hold your hand or simply just play with it.

the first time he did it, was weird, maybe because you were 12 and showing public display of affection was anything but normal, but you both grew into it.

to this day, whenever your by his side, he will grab your hand. if you're walking, he will hold on tight to it and caress the back with his thumb. if you're sitting side by side, he will grab your hand and play with your fingers, moving it around and massaging them.

surprise hugs

lando loves to give you hugs whenever he can. his favorite genre? surprise hugs.

the times you went to visit the paddock to watch his races, he just loved to surprise you, hugging you from behind.

he would be all sweaty and sometimes even smelling like champagne, but he would creep up behind you, quietly, and wrap his arms around your shoulders ou waist. people would think is not very 'friends' of you to do that, but well, you are friends, right?

playing with your hair

lando would always say his favorite fisical part of you was your hair.

one of his most common pastime is playing it it. just running his fingers through it, caressing your scalp and sometimes even blowdrying it for you.

if you lay your head on him, being on his lap or shoulder, he will caress your hair, no matter what or who's around.

borrowing clothes

lando never like the idea of lending clothes. even growning up with three siblings, he did not get used to it, so he never did.

apart from when it came to you. he loves to see you wearing his clothes, a shirt, a hoodie, whatever, it's just weirdly comforting.

he will often realize some of his favorite pieces missing from his wardrobe, but when seeing you wearing it, he doesn't say a word.

if it's one of mclaren shirts? gosh, he melts. seeing you with his number on your back, cheering for him or just showing your support is one of the things he appreciates the most.

texts

lando will send you good morning texts every single day.

doesn't matter if you are already up and he just woke up at 1 pm, when you look at your phone, there will be a 'good morning' there.

if he's at another country for whatever reason, he will send you good morning the time he gets up, so, sometimes, when he's on the other half of the world, you'll get a 'good morning' at 8 pm.

another thing he likes to do is take photos of his day and send it to you. be a goofy selfie of him or a picture of the most beautiful place you ever saw, when you open your gallery, he will be there.

gifts

lando loves peppering you with gifts.

coming from a wealthy family and being a formula one driver, money is not a problem for him, so sometimes you will wake up to gift by your front door.

when he travels to a place, he will normally buy you something there, doesn't matter if it's a fridge magnet or a expensive bag, he will get it for you, even when you say he doesn't need to do that.

'i love you''s

everytime lando says or hear an 'i love you' to or from you, his heart stops.

it's his three favorite words to say to you, even if he doesn't do it often. might be the way your eyes soften or your smile grow bigger, but he loves saying he loves you.

though when he hears it, his mind goes completely blank and keeps repeating 'i love you too' countless times.

the first time he said it, slipped out of his mouth. he was 14 and had just realized how much he liked you - as a kid, he didn't really know what love was -, so when you said you would cover for him to do another of his bullshits, he immediately said "hell yeah, thanks! i love you!".

he did not believe what he just said and immediately corrected himself: "i love how you always cover for me!", but you just chuckled and responded "i love you too, dumbass."

the first kiss

lando had just won his first ever grand prix.

miami was hot. like you could actually melt in place if a breeze didn't got to you.

lando got out of his car and run to hug his crew, you, being at the side, with his dad, was glowing with happiness.

"so proud of you!" you say as soon as he hugs you.

he might just had gotten out of the car, tired as ever, but when his arms wrapped around your waist, he lifted you away from the floor and more into his embrace.

"thanks." he says quietly, pulling back. "this is unbelieavable!"

his eyes did not missed yours for a beat, staring deeply into you as he could read all your thoughts. and maybe he could, because the first thing he did after you thought 'i really want to kiss you' was kiss you.

he cupped your cheeks with firm hands and pecked your lips. you could swear you heard a 'finally!' from his dad, but too busy into understanding what happened, you shoved it off.

"wow, sorry." he said instantly, stepping back.

you were basically in the middle of the track, after an crazy first win from your best friend, and he just kissed you.

you stepped up, knowning that if you didn't, everything would blow away. you grabbed his arm and pulled him into a proper kiss, his arms sliding in your back to reach you. you let out a sigh mid-kiss, his lips crazy for yours as you pulled away, in disbelief.

"we'll talk about it later, i have to go." he said to you, shaking his head.

you nodded, watching him walk away. before we was even two steps away, he turned back and smiled playfully to you: "that was a really nice kiss, i think i might be pregnant!"

and with that, runned towards his interviews.

[star--bird]

I just realized how easily it would be for rumors to be started about the Batkids actually being Bruce's biological kids. Think "Prince Harry's father is actually Princess Diana's former head of security" type rumors.

Dick Grayson: Is mostly free of rumors since there is the story about his parents tragically dying but Bruce never adopted him. Could it be because he is his biological father? Also everyone was a bit too cool with this random guy taking this kid. And he looks a lot like him.

Jason Todd: Jason just kind of showed up one day, his parents weren't known, and there is no adoption record. And what would you know, another kid who looks just like Bruce. Must be his kid.

Tim Drake: His fellow billionaire neighbor's kid that spends a lot of time with him. Classic rich person affair. And Tim looks more like Bruce than his father! Gasp! Tim is *obviously* his kid.

Cassandra Cain: Again, she just showed up one day with no explanation. Obviously his kid.

Damian: Is his kid, probably used as justification behind a lot of these theories.

Duke Thomas: Is also mostly free of rumors since his parents are still alive and the story of what happened to them made the news however people constantly ask him which kids are actually Bruce's and he has to regularly avoid tabloid journalists.

Stephanie Brown: Again, mostly free of rumors but one time a tabloid published a headline claiming that her baby was Bruce's. Bruce used a shell company to buy the press and fired anyone who worked on that "story."

I also imagine that this is the type of thing where people like to debate which kids are Bruce's and which are actually adopted. People mostly speculate on who the mothers of Cass and Jason are. There are lots of social media posting theories about this and there are social media posts criticizing people who do theorize about this calling it weird and obsessive. Jason made the tabloids once for cussing out a journalist who asked if his mom was a popular Gotham actress. I also like to imagine that a lot of people who don't follow tabloid gossip assume that Bruce's kids are biologically his, especially with some of the older ones.

[satoruhour]

Just thought of something FREAKY in class… Single father Satoru looking for a babysitter and you’re looking for a side income during semester break and the tension goes crazy!!!! “We should’t be doing this my son will wake up” I’M GONNA SCREAMMMM

BLISS, PURE BLISS

a/n: happy new year LMFAOOO. thank you for all the asks btw i promise ill answer them asap 🥹 / @shotorus @osaemu @shidouryusm @mysugu @hyomagiri ♱

wc: 6.4k

warnings: ‘onee-san’ used but more of just addressing reader as an older figure because saying babysitter is kinda weird lol (kind of like how chinese people use 姐姐 even if they are not related), fem!reader, dilf!gojo, age gap (gojo in his late 30s, reader in mid-20s), angst if u squint, bit of slow burn n tension, making out, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, praise, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, multiple rounds, consensual filming, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“no fucking way . .” you mumble mostly to yourself, standing in front of the largest house of the gated community in roppongi, and while you knew the people here were excessively and obnoxiously rich, you’re never quite prepared until you’re getting a key card specifically mailed to your name just so you could enter.

you’re not even shameful when you take a video to send to your best friends, locking your screen almost immediately because you knew you’d never get to the job on time if you replied to them. with calculated steps, you’re walking up the house that’s designed with a modern structure, yet still retaining characteristics of a traditional japanese home. it’s less prominent at the front of the house, though.

“(y/n)-san, was it?” a voice startles you out of your ogling sessions. if the garden was already this nice, what would be in store for you when you went in? you’ll be finding out soon when your employer himself opens the door to you, a man with striking white hair and equally striking blue eyes that seem to look right into you. he’s dressed in a suit, probably no doubt ready to get to work while you’re out here taking your time. you cringe, immediately walking up to the door.

“y-yes! yes, i’m sorry sir, i was just uhm—”

he holds that intimidating stare just for a moment but then he breaks into a smile that mirrors the bright sun that shines down on the porch.

“it’s alright . . it’s not everyday you’re working at some rich guy’s house, right?” he jokes but that strikes a little ick into you — he’s already ticking the boxes of obnoxious and excessively rich, but you hate the effect he’s having on you.

“yeah . . no, i guess,” he hums in reply before sticking a hand out.

“gojo satoru,” he introduces himself, “call me anything but that sir shit, alright, doll?”

you nod obediently, trying not to let the little pet name get to your head because he probably does this to any babysitter who comes through the house, but either way, he’s welcoming you in and it’s like you step into a world unreal. it’s spotless, the floors shining under the sunlight, a large television in the living room, a spacious open concept dining-kitchen area, and this is just the first floor.

gojo takes his time to show you the house — where his kid’s toys were, where the food was, where the bathrooms and bedrooms were, it was never-ending. every step you took made you feel like you were walking the length of the nile, each turn only revealing more rooms and corridors.

and then, finally, his baby boy.

“he’s a cheeky one, takes after his dad,” even with all the cockiness he’s shown to you, you can tell he has a soft spot for his kid. the boy stirs from his father’s voice, gleaming in happiness as he puts out his smaller hands to be picked up. as he settles into his arms, it’s just sinking in how tall your employer is. he makes a toddler look like a baby with how small his son looks wrapped snugly.

“satoshi, hi,” he whispers, bouncing the kid in his arms, “want to say hi to your onee-san?”

you manage a small wave but all he does is turn to hide in his father’s arms, definitely scared from a random stranger suddenly talking to him.

“she’s going to be taking care of you for the next month or so, you know?” he mumbles, brushing a hand through the matching white hair, “be nice to the babysitter, okay?”

all satoshi does is hum into his dad’s neck before he’s giving you a sheepish smile. “he’s like that, don’t worry about him.” and you return the smile, thinking that he wasn’t that obnoxious that you thought and that maybe he’s really a dad trying his hardest for his one kid. you realise he’s taking too much time, though, and so you sought out to remind him.

“oh, uh sir— gojo-san, don’t you have to go to work?”

although he’s mentioned satoshi to be taking after him, the boy goes right back to sleeping when he’s put back into his bed so you follow gojo as he adjusts his cuffs and smoothes out his collar just outside the room and you make the mistake of glancing upon the mirror on the far end of the corridor — it was undeniable that you looked like a high-end couple who’s newly married and raising a kid. you try to shake off the thoughts of adjusting his tie for him.

“it’s not being late if you’re on top.” he smirks and you resist the urge to roll your eyes; at least you weren’t alone in purging the delusional thoughts from your head, he was basically helping you at this point and you struggle between characterising him as conceited and admirable. “but, yeah, i should get going.”

but he stands at the door with backpack slung onto one shoulder while he continues to explain satoshi’s routines to you, his habits and also had to sneak in a few cute photos of the kid while squealing repeatedly and you’re left wondering how this guy could be the CEO of a company.

it’s been like that for as long as you can remember — bidding goodbye to your parents as you tell them that you’re off to your part-time job over the winter break. they’re happy you’re even leaving the house, shoving your lunch into your hands with big smiles that you’re at least doing anything other than sitting in your room. the train ride to the gated residential was nice, too, apart from the very crowded subways for people going to work in roppongi.

gojo greets you every morning when you arrive, reminding you of satoshi’s feeding times and his favourite shows and everything a father should know but don’t have the luxury to experience with aforementioned kid. it’s a little bittersweet, every time you see him kiss satoshi goodbye that turns into remaining in his room, to holding your hand and saying goodbye to daddy from the second floor, to getting carried by you at the front door.

it’s slow but sure progress day after day, from watching his cartoons, feeding him at the kitchen island, playing with his toys, that satoshi feels more and more comfortable with you, learning that while he was a well-behaved boy, he definitely had hints of your employer in him. mannerisms, words, voice, you wonder whether he even got any part of his mother in his genes.

you’d never ask, though, but it was told. unexpectedly.

“i’m home—” the last parts of his word die down into a whisper when he opens the door to see satoshi cuddled up to you, the last bits of home alone playing softly. by now you already know what happens in the movie so you’re texting your friends and laughing softly to yourself, jumping when your boss steps past the doorway. gojo winces when he checks his watch (“fuck. it’s already ten.”), toeing his shoes off and apologising simultaneously.

“oh— man, i’m so sorry, i had a late meeting with the CEO of our neighbouring franchise, i totally forgot about the time—” gojo’s quick to make his way down to the small pit of the house (he likes to call it the conversation pit), settling down on the side where satoshi had his head in your lap as his eyes linger on the movie. instinctively, his hands reach to pat his leg.

“oh, it’s okay, gojo-san, it’s the holidays anyway.”

“yeah?” he turns to you, one arm propped on the back of the sofa, “and why don’t a pretty girl like you have any plans?”

that catches you off-guard, among the many other times he’s called you pretty or sweets like no care in the world. you’re never quite used to it, too, seeking to fluster you. “you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me, gojo-san . .”

“why not?” he’s turned back to the television, now, and you take his place, staring at his side profile as the scenes of the movie move along his face. “i’m a single dad, aren’t i?”

“yeah but . . you could have anyone.”

“what if,” he turns and you chicken out, head snapping back to the front while he watches you and the both of you cannot deny the tiring dance you perform around each other all the time. the clench in his heart when he sees you carry his baby boy at the porch and the small smile he gives you every morning before he leaves for his job. he doesn’t want to go through with it and sighs.

it’s become hard to breathe around you. it’s become hard to hold himself back around you.

“i worked too much.” he suddenly says, facing the TV again. “i was too engrossed and . .”

confusion seeps in at first. yeah, it was no secret he worked his ass off despite being at the very top. your gaze falls to satoshi, curling more into your side like he’s cold and you adjust the blanket. you nod in recognition.

“we fought a lot. i tried— i tried to alter my schedule as much as i could, driving to and fro whenever she needed me, bringing satoshi to work as a baby when we couldn’t come to a compromise, but it was a lot. for her, for satoshi. he could sense whenever we were about to fight, on edge voices, items clattering to the floor . .”

by now, he’s leaned back, back of his hand resting on his forehead, “and he’d cry like he was interrupting us. cheeky, i told you,” and his eyes close, “we hardly reached middle ground. it was either this or that, hire a nanny or we take care of him, my endless job or the joy of life. i’m ashamed that i’ve prioritised my job more, and still do it now.”

“if you didn’t, i wouldn’t be here, would i?”

that draws a chuckle out of him, “correct.”

“she couldn’t take it, not when she was a businesswoman on top of that. she was out doing herself at every aspect in her job, going to greater heights, and while she accused me of putting work first, she isn’t entirely innocent, either. but that’s . .”

“you don’t have to say anything, gojo-san,” you mumble as you watch the reunion of the characters in the movie before the screen cuts the black, no doubt affecting him in some way at the warmth displayed by the movie that contrasts heavily with his situation, “the fact that you even told me is . .”

the heavy atmosphere is disrupted by satoshi gasping, “papa! you’re home.”

you exchange awkward smiles as you watch the boy fight his way out of the blanket to hug gojo, the latter huffing when the boy drops his body weight on him and you take it as a sign to give them a bit of privacy, standing up to clean up the popcorn and cups. laughter and your employer’s voice resonate throughout the place even as they go up the stairs, a rare occasion where gojo is able to get his son ready for bed.

it’s only maybe an hour later when the house falls into silence. mouth burning from the mouthwash, the heater in satoshi’s room turned to a high setting, one bedtime story was read (which, he fell asleep halfway), the boy was out like a light. you felt it inappropriate to leave without at least saying goodbye, but you also didn’t want to cut into their time together; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

so you waited with your things on the kitchen island, getting a risky text just as gojo comes down, still in his suit from work.

[11:02pm, nobara -> you] BITCH GET THAT DICKKKKK!!!!!!! 

and you yelp softly, slamming your phone down onto his marble counter. thankfully, he doesn’t notice, eyes close to shutting from fatigue. 

“oh, shit, you’re still here?”

“i thought it would be, weird, if i didn’t say goodbye,” you get ready to leave, slinging your tote bag on, “but i also didn’t want to intrude on your time with satoshi, limited as it is.” well, you did also wish something would happen, but you had too much pride to admit it to yourself.

“you got a ride home?” he yawns and you feel guilty for extending your stay already. you didn’t even need to worry about the front door, he lived in a gated community for christ’s sake!

“um, not really, but i can always book an uber home.”

“i’ll drive you home, it’s unsafe,” is all he says like he’s trying to convince himself, “let me just get changed and we can go.”

gojo doesn’t leave you any room to protest before he’s up the stairs again and you’re left with a pounding heart and dizzy head, not sure what might ensue. you know him to be honourable; you’ve seen him with his child, you’ve seen him interact with his neighbours, but a late ride with your boss sounds sketchy as it is.

but it doesn’t feel like it when you feel the tokyo wind blowing through your hair, a slight gap in the window bringing you the chills of the night as he silently drives you back home. sitting in your employer’s car most of all felt weird, but even more so when he’s reaching your home faster than the gps system had predicted. his knuckles are white.

“you—”

your head snaps to him, “yes?”

his car headlights are the brightest in the parking lot where every car is silent, quiet, much like his clammy hands and red cheeks. gojo satoru turns to you, feeling that familiar tug in his heart and lump in his throat for the first time in a while, and he can’t speak.

but you lean forward like your life depends on it and you leap inwardly when you see that he does the same. eyes trained forward, your stares boring into the other, waiting to see who’d close their eyes first. you just stop short of an inch, met with the hypnotising swirls of raging oceans in gojo’s eyes and you swallow when his eyes flit down to your lips and back up like he wouldn’t get caught.

with shaking hands, your fingers trace over his lips and you sigh when you feel just how soft they are, just like his skin, just like his eyes when they look at satoshi. your heart skips a beat when he just lightly kisses the pads of your fingers, and that encourages you to cradle his cheek, up his jaw, up his undercut.

“let’s just kiss, yeah?” he was afraid that if he spoke too loud, he’d shatter the glass, snap the string of tension, voice cracking until you swallow it, you stomach his nervousness with a lively, strong kiss from your lips to his, and he just melts.

gojo hums into the kiss, leaning forward over the stick shift and into the passenger seat before you counter it with your own movements: hand on his shoulders and pushing until you’re on his space of the driver’s seat and playing the game of tug that’s been going on for the past few weeks. you win.

“god, you’re so . .” gojo whines out when you climb onto him, whispering into your mouth while you get comfortable in your straddling position, cutting him off with a second, rougher kiss and you both moan softly, passion taking over in the evident way your arms scramble to wrap around him while he pulls you flush against his front.

the car is filled with sounds of your kissing, something that definitely shouldn’t be done in his home and yet you risk it all in your home’s parking lot. you break the kiss and hide in his neck, already starting the makings of a hickey there while your pelvis selfishly grinds into his front and he kneads your ass. in the mingling of breaths and moans, he’s left to stop the two of you when there’s a muffled ringtone coming from your bag and you swallow at the insanity of the situation.

“i’ll see you, monday, right?” gojo breathlessly says later, bulge still showing through his sweats while you hang outside the driver’s side, not wanting to leave. he takes your hand, planting a peck on it and then brings you in for another harmless kiss.

“yeah, gojo-san . . monday.”

you lose count of how many times you’ve swallowed throughout the night, but he says something to lift the mood just a bit.

“we just made out and you’re still calling me by my last name?”

you laugh lightly, “monday, satoru. i’ll be there, same time, on monday.”

gojo leaves a farewell kiss to the inside of your wrist, “attagirl.”

 but if you’re not careful, it might just happen in satoru’s house.

the remainder of your employment at his house is tiring. it’s so hard not to kiss him before he leaves for work, so difficult not to long for him while you take care of satoshi, so entirely harrowing not to claim him as yours as you watch him play after his work. at this point, you’re hoping school will just start soon and the rush of assignments and readings will take your mind off of it, but you cannot deny the excitement every time you leave your house.

“you’ll bring food and cook every monday, wednesday, friday, and i’ll order food for the both of you every tuesday and thursday, how’s that?” gojo thinks it’s time to introduce him to larger pieces of food, but it’s gone past that by now and to your meal arrangements.

“i’m okay with cooking, though!” you assure him, and plus, you loved your parents��� home cooked bentos that they give you everyday, “do we gotta?”

“sorting out meals is tiring, (y/n),” gojo takes the place beside you, leaning against the counter just like you before drinking out of his cup, “i want to at least help at little.”

“you already are.” you smile, “i can see you making the effort.”

“it’s not enough, though, i could be doing better.”

gojo hates how this scene sets up — like two parents just figuring out the best for their kid — it’s a callback to the memory in the same exact kitchen. at least all you do is kiss and make out, because he wouldn’t know what to do if you moan out his name in that same intimate way that threatens his walls to come down again. he loved sex, he loved the bedroom, but he’s riding a thin line the way he’s doing with you.

“you are,” is everything that you say, and you leap forward to kiss him. you do it so hard that he has to put down the glass to fully embrace you, walking you backwards to the conversation pit and he carries you so effortlessly because he doesn’t want you walking backwards down some stairs.

he hates how you bring him into your lips, he hates how gently he lays you down, and he hates how you accept the kisses down your neck and body. you, on the other hand, aren’t doing so well, either — it’s either a hit or miss with a broken man like gojo satoru, and you’re stepping on glass shards hoping you don’t say anything wrong with him because he’s trying his best but he just can’t see it.

“are you okay with this?” he asks halfway down your torso and he gets lightheaded from how well his hands cover your waist. “tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.”

“n-no . . keep going, satoru.”

he exhales shakily at that, fingers tugging your top up and his hands are so cold you resist shivering, but you do anyway from the sheer fucking craziness that gojo drives you into. one pop of your button, and you’re already lifting your hips off the couch for him to remove your pants but movement on the stairs make you halt.

“papa?” satoshi calls out sleepily, rubbing his eyes and pouting. you can see it, almost, with how much time you’ve spent with the kid, and you hope he can’t see you. “i . . i had a nightmare and i just— i wanna sleep with you.”

he’s started sniffling and you feel your heart break that he knows his papa well enough to know he would never sleep in his room. his job always has him sleeping out in the living room.

go. you mouth, kissing your fingers and pressing it to his lips before he puts on a show — yawning, stretching his arms, already making satoshi feel at ease with his theatrics before he’s stopping at the foot of the stairs to look back at you. you already know gojo satoru has redeemed himself a hundred times over. i’ll see you tomorrow. 

funnily, satoshi somehow does have some intervention powers, because each time the both of you attempt to go down on each other, he’s either saying he threw up, or he needs to use the toilet, or that he’s hungry. while you both love him to death, it’s also becoming difficult to hold back each time you see each other. his car in your parking lot is all he has and you dare not to go to his workplace where rumours would spark.

so after a tiring night of getting a hyper satoshi to sleep, you’d at least try. at this point, you know not to expect too much out of it, starting always with some talking. it was easy to talk to your boss, and when you phrase it like that, it did come off a little strange, but it was far from that when your boss in his late 30s looked just like he did ten years ago and that he had crazy blue eyes and insane white hair and was hot.

“thank you for taking care of him for the past month and a half,” gojo thanked you, leaning over to give you a peck to the temple, “it means a lot.”

“he’s a sweet boy, plus, i do need the money,” you giggle, nudging him, “and it did let me get to know you . .”

“certainly,” he mumbles. drunk off your scent, he leans in again, kissing you fully on the lips now. you hum softly, going on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulder. swiftly, he props you on the kitchen counter and you yelp in surprise, unable to help the throb of your pussy when he slots himself in between your legs.

jokingly, he puts his hand to his ear. “no satoshi interruption tonight?”

you smack his shoulder, “don’t jinx it.”

he laughs, a proper laugh before he sighs shakily, fingers thumbing your sides gently. “you know . . we shouldn’t be doing this,” you feel your heart sink a little, but he quells it with hovering lips over yours, “he could hear and wake up.”

“then why have you been accepting all my kisses, gojo satoru?” your eyes challenge him, but you know one touch from him would have you submitting to him. his breath fans over your lips, and you can feel his pulse speed up when your fingers go over his neck, to his nape, to his undercut. you run your fingertips through it.

“you have too much power over me, simple.” that sentence has your eyes fluttering close. it’s too much for you and yet you welcome it with open arms, “it’s become so bad that you’re all i think about.”

“is that so?” you pull lightly on his hair.

he nods, foreheads touching now and he’s trying to hold himself back, but, “i’ve been holding back, entirely too much, baby, and i don’t think i can, anymore.”

“yeah?” you whisper, bringing him in with your legs, “show me, then.”

gojo satoru decides that maybe taking the leap isn’t so bad, so he fully gives himself to you, tugging your lips to his in a clashing kiss that has you groaning in pain just a bit. he giggles and apologises and tries again, and this time, it’s got your hips moving against him, whimpering into his mouth. gojo’s hard just from kissing, something that he’s desperate to relieve himself off so — he’s whispering for you to hang on while he slots his hands under your ass and lifts you.

satoru knows his house well, walking up with you in tow and lips still on yours, right into his room. you giggle when he plops you down and he’s already looking forward to ravishing you, but —

“let me check on satoshi for a sec.”

you laugh silently, “of course, satoru, go.”

and once your boss’ made sure his son is out cold in slumber, he’s all over you again and definitely showing you how much he’s been holding himself back. you’re the pure focus of the night, making you chase for more when he pulls away and kissing down your body. he worships it, tongue circling a nipple while his hand plays with the other, eyes staring holes into yours from how intense the blue was.

“s-satoru . .”

“yes, sweets, what is it?”

“feels good—” you whine, back arching into his hold once he leaves your tits and continues down your body. each kiss is like hellfire against your cold skin, and he pops a button and listens out again, both of you sighing in relief and giggling to each other when you don’t hear a knock on the door.

“does it? good.” it’s tantalisingly slow, the pace at which gojo peels your clothes off, but when your pants are finally off, he marvels at your beauty as he brings your legs apart. you’re shy, hiding yourself behind your arms and resisting his hands.

“aht, no, c’mon, show yourself, baby.” he only moans when he sees the dark patch at the centre of your underwear, pressing a finger into your clit and you’re ashamed at how intensely you react to it. gojo continues his torture, thumbing your bud just to watch your face contort into pleasure, “so, so pretty.”

you preen at the praise, even more so when he pulls your panties to the side and sucks slowly on your clit. it’s slow, again, and you’re clutching the sheets so tight when he lays his tongue flat against your pussy. satoru takes his time, savouring each bit of your cunt to make up for lost time, filling the room with the lewdest noises of your sopping cunt on his tongue.

“taste so fuckin’ sweet, pussy’s s’good,” he practically moans into your core, arms wrapping around your thighs to bring you closer while you try to keep your noises down to a minimum. little pants and mewls leave your lips, eyes never leaving the head of hair.

but he’s unpredictable, as gojo always is, so when he’s hovering over you just to give you a little innocent kiss, you think nothing of it, until he’s back in front of your pussy and starts eating you out like a starved man. you let out a loud moan, dragging it out until you’re gulping down your next sounds. it doesn’t help much, though, cause gojo’s slurping at your pussy like it’s the end of the world.

“s-satoru—! too much—” you moan but your hips grind into his mouth, your hands now finding purchase in his hair, “t-too loud.”

“mmf— don’t care,” he mumbles into your cunt, making sure he gets every drop of your arousal on his tongue while he abuses your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking hard and you think it’s the best head you’ve ever gotten.

“not when your cunt’s so perfect,” you only press his head deeper into you like it would stop his muffled sentences, but that only spurs him to suck harder before he just shifts down a little to plunge his tongue into your hole. you choke out a moan as his nose nudges your clit, clenching around his muscle.

“relax— mmhh, you gotta relax, baby,” he’s massaging your thighs but if anything it does the exact opposite, closing your thighs around his head in sensitivity.

“it’s— h-hard to,” you moan out, already feeling the coil in your tummy that’s approaching oh, so quickly when gojo eats you out like this. he shifts his attention back to your puffy clit, eyes flicking up to make contact with yours and you shrivel under his intense stare, “w-when you’re making me feel s’good—!”

you feel him smile into your cunt but he says nothing, taking note of the drop of your jaw, the scrunch of your eyes, the contractions of your stomach. your legs like to straighten out and shake when you’re close, he memorises. when you start to tighten your grip on his hair, he ingrains it in his mind.

“cumming— i’m c-close,” but it’s like satoru doesn’t even need it when his eyes digest the way he sends you over the edge with just his tongue.

“g— god! satoru!” your mouth falls into a silent scream after, head dipping so much into the pillow while you grind your cunt into his face, gushing all over his face with a renewed spirit and regret for all those times that men have rubbed your left lip thinking it was your clit.

“let it go, yeess . . that’s it,” satoru doesn’t hesitate to get sloppy, sucking up all your cum, gasping for air once he’s done with his meal, “pretty girl just came all over my face.”

you struggle to your elbows despite the words he utters, propped up just to catch a glimpse of him and the soaked bottom of his face that stretches into a smile.

“was that better than all the uni boys who’ve never felt the touch of a woman?” you laugh at that, making quick work of grabbing his chin and bringing him back to your lips.

“much, much better.” and you take the opportunity to flip the tables, trembling, shaking legs trying their best to wrap around his torso to straddle him —  but once you’re over, you’re not quite sure what to do apart from letting your hands roam all over the expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“and can she do it again all over my cock?” the obscene words sound almost taboo falling from his mouth that your mouth drops open in initial shock, but it subsides into anticipation soon enough.

wordlessly, you take matters into your own hands, fingers making quick work of his trousers while he removes his top impatiently. the scowl on your face is prominent when you struggle to work his belt out and he chuckles with helping hands, the burn on your face deepening.

“there,” gojo giggles and he pulls you in with a peck-filled apology, “don’t worry, we have all the time in the world.”

you hum, “not when your son could knock any time soon.”

that prompts a giggle that fades off into a loud moan once your warm hand wraps around him, something that he’d never tell you how many times he’s fantasised about. slowly, you stroke his cock, excruciatingly slow just like how he’s done to your cunt earlier.

you’re hovering over him, now, dragging his tip along your pussy and whining softly at the pre-cum that mixes together with your juices. you need him into you as soon as possible, and apart from your soon burning thighs, you’ve been wanting this for as long as you’ve stepped foot into his house from the very first day.

inch by inch, you sink down onto gojo’s weeping cock, getting the luxury of feeling his sensitive twitches with the plunge into your cunt. you’re glad at least he had offered to stretch you out just a tad bit earlier, the intrusion of his fingers already having you panting for his dick; and now, when you have the real thing, it drives your mind insane.

“’t-toru— haah . .” your body curls up from the painful stretch, lips muttering the nickname unknowingly as you grasp onto his shoulders for support, and while he helps you on, he never stops saying the most filthy things, grinning each time you clench around him.

“never thought i’d be here, fuckin’ the babysitter, but here we are,” your oh my god is whispered only for the other to hear, body burning up from the words before he grinds his pelvis into yours and you slump forward in pleasure. your words are a bunch of nothingness, a string of incoherence, “and her pussy’s just so fucking— tight!”

giving you one or two breaths of rest, satoru coos in your face, cradling it and littering kisses all over it before he’s moving his hips and you’re breaking the kiss to whine out, moving your hips to meet his as well. you move sooner or later, bouncing on his cock once you’re more used to him in you and the position only hits all your spots just right.

“f-fuck— you’re so big—!” you roll your hips into him, eyes stuck on how there’s just a small bump in your tummy each time you bottom out. your boss from across you is equally ruined, eyes struggling to keep open with wet hair stuck to his forehead. “feel so so g-good . .”

“yeah?” he breathlessly mumbles, hand squeezing and kneading your ass and trying to help you, but the warmth of your cunt around his length just feels too good. “bounce on that dick, baby.”

and you do, planting your feet into the bed and fingers creating bruises along his shoulders as you impale yourself on his fat cock, switching to relaxing in his embrace and letting your hips do the work when your legs start hurting. there, you indulge in gojo’s lips as you hump him, the delicious friction of your clit against his pubes sending you reeling.

“you’re going to be soaking my sheets from how much you’re leaking,” gojo jests, letting your moans take over his mind while his lips trace down your neck, eyes just peeking over to see your ass ripple from the force. “not that i mind. how’s she doin’?”

“she’s getting,” a choked whine interrupts you, “a little tired.”

and that draws a laugh out of gojo who does nothing but tease you, something he likes to do even in makeout sessions, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach over to his bedsie table to grab his phone, leaning back to bask in your glory. here, your body just looks heavenly as you try your best to move on his lap.

“hang on a little more for me, princess,” with one hand, his larger hand leave chills all over your body and the other points his phone at you, not before making sure you were okay with it, “and smile for the camera.”

you try your best even when his hand make his way to your mouth, pulling it open with his fingers to slot it in. you’re sure you look like a whore right now, but the camera pointed your way only turn you on more, like it’s beckoning you to put on a show. and you loved the attention, so you close your lips around his fingers and start sucking, grinding even harsher on his cock that has gojo stuttering.

“y—yeah, attagirl . .” he grins at the video he takes, “show the camera how much of a cockslut you are.”

you whine, bringing the hand to your clit while you shove two hands onto his torso to really work your thighs out, feeling that familiar curl in your stomach once he starts rubbing his saliva-filed fingers along you bundle of nerves. 

“r-right there, satoru—!” you swear under your breath, giving hooded eyes to the camera while you chase your high drunkenly, all sort of coherent thought banished from your head. “love your cock, love it, love it—!”

satoru swears he wants to cum from just watching you use him, and even holding himself back is proving difficult when you clamp and tighten around him until his fingers press particularly deep into your clit and you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name, body convulsing all over the video.

“tha’s a good girl . . cream my cock, yeeaaahh . .” gojo watches, hypnotised, as you lose control over your body, but the pleasure-filled whimper that you merge his name with is just too good, that he spills unexpectedly in you. the video is far from stable, so he only slaps the phone down to relish in his orgasm. gojo pushes his hips up and you gasp at the feeling, back arching when you feel his cum seep into you.

you’ve never even given much thought to pregnancy, but the feeling of his cum dribbling into you fogs your mind that you only want more after a mental note to buy the morning after pill tomorrow.

“n-need more,” you beg, fondling at his cheeks and undercut, “w-want more cum in me, satoru . .”

and it’s like a flip switches in him, because he’s flipping you over right after — he has to see his cum leave your pussy first though, taking the still ongoing video and putting it right up to your pussy, using his tip to smear your mixed juices all around.

“who knew i’d hired such a dirty girl?” he addresses the camera more than you, but he catches your flustered glance with a wink and after poorly setting up the camera on his bedside table (he just was too intoxicated on your cunt), he’s pushing back into you with a loud groan, not even caring for the consequences any more. his cum is just so much, too, spilling out the sides.

“only f’r you,” you mumble, grabbing at his forearms needily. your eyes flutter close as he bottoms out, your legs pushed right up to your chest as he folds you whichever way he wants to. at this point, if he wanted to own you, you wouldn’t object one bit, not when gojo satoru’s cock stretches your pretty pussy so nicely. “a cumslut only for you.”

“yeah?” he starts moving his hips and your arch into his hold, “i wonder how i got so — fuck — lucky.” everything is sloppy and wet and disgusting and you love every moment of it, even after he’s cummed in you the second, third, fourth time, you’re happy to be pumped full of his cum, giving him a tired, glistening grin that he returns.

“think i should be transferring over my life savings for a cunt this sweet,” you giggle at the compliment, but don’t protest when he’s pulling up the app to gift you with a hefty amount; both your salary and bonus, all from making gojo satoru fall helplessly just from your touch — something to brag about indeed.

[redflagshipwriter]

Ghost Driver 5

Masterpost

Chapter Five

Danny did not succeed in coaxing Robin out of his car at the cemetery. “I have a juice box,” he lied, shaking his hand inside his pocket enticingly. “You can have it if you go home.”

“I wanna stay.” Robin pressed himself against the opposite car door. His wristwatch was flashing again.

‘If I go to the other side really fast and open the door, he might fall out.’

“Let’s go already.” Jason sounded done with both of them. He had a hand on his forehead. “If we are going anywhere. There’s no point in anything.”

“That’s a bit much,” Danny muttered to himself. He heaved a great sigh at how ridiculous these Gotham people were. This place was silly.

“It’s not pointless.” Robin plastered himself to the back of Jason’s chair, bizarre in his sincerity. He peered around the headrest. “Why do you think that?”

“Dad didn’t pick me,” Jason said nonsensically, and extremely morose.

It tugged at Danny’s heartstrings. “Want my dad?” He offered. He sat back down in his seat so he could lean over and rub at the back of Jason’s neck. Jason rolled his head over towards him.

Jason sniffled.

“Your dad would pick you.” Robin leaned forward.

Jason lolled forward and put his face in both his hands.

Robin didn’t get a clue. “He loves you,” Robin pushed. He patted the back of the car seat. “Your Dad cares so much, du-“

“Back off,” Danny hissed. He gave the kid a glare. “Can’t you see you’re not helping?”

“Of course I thought that then,” Jason warbled. “I wanted my Dad to save me.”

“This is getting dark.” Danny scratched his neck nervously. They needed to change the subject. He put on an artificially bright voice. “How about we go do paperwork and a prisoner transfer!”

Jason didn’t answer. Danny turned around to see Robin.

After a long pause, Robin gave him a thumbs-up.

“Great.” Relieved, he patted Jason’s leg and then checked his seatbelt was good. “Aight, let’s go.”

“What exactly is going on?” Robin prodded.

“Uhhh…” Danny stalled for a moment as he finally contextualized how far off task he had gone. “Well, I followed a police escort to a weird militaristic asylum today.”

“Why?” Robin interrupted.

Danny gave him the stink eye in the rear view window. “Because I thought it might have been Jason who-“

He cut himself off with a cough.

Shit. He couldn’t share Jason’s personal information with the detective freakazoids. If they figured out he was the Red Hat, they’d never stop bothering him.

“You thought he would get a four police car escort?” Robin asked. He lifted an eyebrow in a way that made him look extremely punchable.

“Hell yes,” Danny said loyally. “I believe in him. He’s capable of anything.”

“Aww.” Jason genuinely sounded touched.

Robin twitched.

“Anyway, I met this freakazoid there, total creepo, found out he keeps breaking out and I punted him to the Infinite Realms but I guess I was a bit sketchy about it? So now I need to move him to a legal holding facility and get paperwork that proves the transfer to show Mr. Police guy, because he says he can’t allow kidnapping and I think that’s fair even if it’s a bummer,” Danny rambled. “In my defense, most of the time sending people to the infinite realms for being buttheads is the most appropriate course of action. When you have a hammer you see a lot of nails or whatever. Wheeee.” He accelerated to get over a police barricade.

Jason closed his eyes again. “I think imma be sick,” he said philosophically.

“You should probably rely less on false imprisonment,” Robin said in a mild tone.

Jason immediately repeated that in a mocking tone, complete with a flapping hand to imitate a mouth. “Was I really this annoying?” He mumbled. “Jeeze. Say like, golly. Gosh. Willickers.”

Robin looked extremely offended. He was deathly silent the rest of the car ride.

‘Spoke too soon,’ Danny thought, about a minute away from his destination.

“What are you doing?”

Danny ignored his shriek and hit Robin with his head to keep the little weasel from grabbing the wheel. “I know where I’m going,” he grunted, and busted through the construction barricade.

Robin braced. Danny flicked on a turn signal. Jason sort of grimaced and closed his eyes.

No one outside the car noticed or reacted to them, because of course he had gone intangible and invisible. He wasn’t a total dingus.

“It’s a long detour,” Danny justified. The car rattled angrily over potholes. He swerved to avoid an open manhole. “And we’re out.” He flicked back into visibility and eased the car to a stop outside the police station. “Just a second.”

“…What are you-“

He slammed the door on Robin and jogged up the stairs.

A young man coming down the stairs stopped and stared at him. “Hey,” he said, nodding.

Danny nodded back. Jeeze, what a handsome guy. “Hey yourself,” he said genially. “Scuze me-“

“Sorry, can I stop you for a moment?” He flashed a very white smile. “What are you here for? Maybe I can help you.”

Danny looked down to confirm that the stranger really had put a hand on his shoulder. He removed it sheepishly. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I was gonna go ask a cop to come with me.” He rolled his shoulders.

“…I’m a cop,” said the guy.

Danny looked at him. He looked at his car. In the backseat, Robin tried to sink down out of sight. “Wanna come with me and my new friends to get some paperwork from a ghost cop?”

Handsome guy’s whole face twitched. “I sure would. Is that Robin?” He started jogging. “That sure looks like Robin!” He said, in a voice that might have been disapproving.

The door locks clicked on for some reason.

“No worries, I can fix that.” Danny plunged his hand through the window to manually depress the locks and then opened the backseat door with a flourish. “Got a cop, guys!”

Jay groaned and gave a thumbs up. He was still covering his eyes with the underside of his forearm.

The cop was standing still to stare at Jay. His face was unreadable.

“He’s got the front seat, so you’re back here with the bird, sorry.” Danny bullied the cop into his car and then flung himself carelessly back into the drivers’ seat. “Seatbelts on?”

Two clicks came from the back seat.

“I know the rules, Danny.”

“Awesome.” He gave them all a thumbs up. “Okay, uh, I am going to…” He hit the gas hard and accelerated down the streets of Gotham. Something thunked in the back seat when he took a hard turn.

“Are you leaving city limits?” the cop asked.

Danny nodded, heading towards the highway entrance. “I can’t bother Wulf to be my personal interdimensional portal guy, he’ll start to feel used. I’m gonna pop over to the cheese mansion and take vampire Vlad’s portal to the ghost zone.”

“Do we have any snacks?” The cop leaned a bit up into the front seat. “It’s just, that sounds like a pretty long trip. Are we gonna be gone all morning?”

“I’ll stop when we get to third street,” Danny promised. “Vlad is, uh.” He grimaced. “About two hours away.”

From the backseat came a sullen: “You owe me a juice box.”

“I never said that,” Danny lied. “Officer, this child is trying to rob me.”

Nevertheless, he did stop and promise to get Robin a juice box. The handsome cop guy hopped out of the car and paused weirdly outside the store.

Danny cocked his head and watched. “Are you posing for the security cameras?” He snorted. “You look like a model.” He headed in, ignoring the bemused “thanks?” that garnered. The two of them headed in while Jay malaised in the car and Robin attempted to become a dark cloud. Teenagers, man.

“I didn’t catch your name. I’m Dick, by the way.” Handsome Guy pulled open the cold door and started piling drinks into a basket. Danny edged past him on tiptoes to investigate the chip aisle.

“I’m Phantom.” He started tossing snacks over his shoulder into the basket. “Hey, do you have money? I don’t have much money. I can maybe cover, half of this.” He grimaced. “Maybe Jay would pay me back for his share, but he’s so out of it. Birds don’t carry money, right? That bird looks broke.”

“I can get it, I have a credit card.” Handsome Guy Dick snatched a bag of superhot puffed things and made his way to the check out. “Gas?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and obviously declined a call. His phone began vibrating again immediately.

“That would be a good idea, thanks.” Danny floated behind Dick to the counter, relieved to have a higher level adult present.

They were back on the road and about halfway there before it occurred to him that he should probably warn Vlad he was coming. Danny fished around in his jacket pocket. Nothing. He frowned. “Do you see my phone?” he asked Jay.

Jay said nothing. His head was lolling forward.

“He is out of it, my guy,” Handsome Cop Dick said genially. “Is this it?” He produced Danny’s phone.

“How did that end up back there?” Danny wondered. “Thanks, guy.” He unlocked it with his left hand and started a speakerphone call. As soon as it connected, he said, “I have guests.”

Vlad cut himself off mid what would have definitely been something like, “So you, Daniel Fenton, come crawling back to me, Vladimir Vlad Plasmy Plad, you, the son of my greatest enemy and tragically disinterested love interest.” He was just like that. The guy had no sense of discretion.

“I need to take a cop, a vigilante, and a guy I wanna date into the ghost zone,” he explained. The countryside flew by outside the window in a dizzying rush of green. “I’m on my way to your place to borrow your portal.”

“...How do you get into these situations?” Vlad sounded interested, damn him. His tone dropped suggestively. “You are constantly in situations, my lad. Perhaps it is a lack of paternal guidance-”

“Probably not,” Danny interrupted cheerfully. “But I hear you loud and clear, you have an empty nest and you’re not dealing well, say no more, I’ll send over the little gremlin and the big guy, let them know you just hit up costco and you want them to stock up-”

Vlad literally hissed into the phone. “Cease and desist. Fine.” He was outright pouting.

“Oh, you sound sulky.”

“I am going to tell your father that I want photos of you in the turtle halloween costume to put on a slideshow for investors.” Vlad’s voice dropped dangerously low. “I can convince him that there is a legitimate reason. He probably will not even ask why.”

Danny winced. “Truce,” he said. “I’ll be there in like an hour, okay? Can I take a car in through the lab?”

“A car?” Vlad shrieked. He sounded weirdly offended about it.

“I didn’t know his voice could go that high,” Danny said in a quiet aside to the car. Dick nodded. His expression was unreadable. Danny lifted his volume to explain. “They’re all humans, can’t fly, also now that I think about it I need some way to move the prisoner.” He frowned. He noticed the cop went very stiff in the backseat. Hmm. Yeah. The backseat was getting pretty full.

“...You are a disaster,” Vlad said flatly. “I will provide a more appropriate vehicle. I will accompany you.”

“You sure? I’m gonna have to see Walker. He hates you, right?” Danny switched lanes to pass a slow van. “He hasn’t told me anything, but everyone hates you, so he probably also does.”

Vlad hung up.

…fair.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some Guy on Fear Gas (can apparently turn invisible)

Masterpost

“Danny was supposed to be in class today.”

There was a round of sighs in the coms. See Danny didn’t react in the same manner as the rest of the population when exposed to fear toxin (or in general, but they were mostly used to that). See Danny didn’t scream, he didn’t cry, he didn’t get violent. He got unnervingly paranoid.

He got so unnervingly paranoid about being watched, specifically by the government if the muttered and whispered words were to be believed. His eyes tracked nothing while he slowly moved around invisible people. It wasn't like dealing with someone in an active hallucination experiencing a psychotic break. It was like dealing with someone in a paranoid delusion. He wouldn't let any of the bats near him and often took off, disappearing into the chaos.

Four months into seeing this kid everywhere and their suspicions were confirmed when he literally disappeared after the second time being poisoned.

Danny was a meta and he was afraid.

That’s not the reason for the exasperation felt by this family though. It was what always happened after. The first time he ignored every vigilantly when they tried to bring it up. After the second time he attempted to avoid everyone, extended family included.

(He had asked Kate if she was also Batman’s kid. “More like their aunt.” “Oh okay so it really is a family business. Like that show Unnatural. You don't happen to have also lost your parents at a relatively young age and now go on to fight a dark presence in their honor, do you?.” Kate had stared passively at him, the others had warned her. “….. okay… are you more of a Zuko honor type?”)

However, it was like the universe conspired against Danny. Even Bruce agreed that there had to be some god or being doing this (nothing is ever a coincidence). They kinda felt bad for him. He was very obviously trying to avoid them and he was either really bad at being evasive or a deity was laugh at him. Once he had thrown himself behind a lamp pole smaller than himself and closed his eyes to avoid Stephanie.

(It was very awkward. He could turn invisible and knew they knew so why…..? She had politely continued past so not to embarrass the poor guy further. Cause this was embarrassing and they both knew it.)

Finally it was Duke who pulled them all out of limbo. He had come across Danny on the roof of another bank. A lesser known capital union closer to crime ally this time.

Danny hadn’t been avoiding Duke in the same manner as everyone else. He still stopped to give Duke food but he never spoke and he ran after. Duke thought it would be weird to chase him but it was also weird to turn around, have an orange shoved into his hands then watch his friend run away.

However, this time Danny didn’t run as Duke approached so Duke sat next to him. Pulling out a granola bar, he handed it to Danny, “that’s why you feed me all the time right? Cause you know how many calories we need as metas.”

Danny had laughed, “no actually, that was a bit that morphed into a habit. I just thought it was funny.”

“….what.”

“Don’t get me wrong, now that we’re friends I am more than happy to feed you but yeah. The first candy bar was a thank you and then the second time I thought ‘I have fruit.’”

“….. wow… okay.” There went his plan of empathizing. They sat in silence as Duke tried to reorganize his thoughts.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you all.” Duke turned his head to face Danny, who kept his eyes forward, “you know no one cares that you’re a meta.” “Obviously. It wasn’t the invisibility that I was upset about," Danny said.

“The muttering. The paranoia.” Danny grimaced and didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to tell us till you’re ready, man. Just let us know if you need help. Please, are you safe?”

Danny nodded and Duke nodded back and they had both continued to sit. When they parted ways Danny handed Duke a small bag of chips.

Danny had apologized everyone one at a time even though they had heard it from Duke. Danny never explained nor did he want to talk about his it. His power of invisibility was also a subject off limits. All of them were worried but they didn’t want to force him to talk about it. They had to trust that he would one day feel comfortable doing so with any or all of them. (Still, it was hard seeing their friend so paranoid that he flinched back from them. )

Post Six

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood

(Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 10

______________________________

Present

"This is so unfair" Percy says as he scrubs the pots and pans

It would be fine if it was normal dirty dishes and normal water...

But it's magical dirty dishes and you have to wash them with molten magic iron...

Great.

Percy sighs "I have been getting dreams... Of Grover, he tells me he's trapped on an island being held hostage by a... Cyclops, and the thing we need to save Thalia's tree is there as well- golden poncho or something"

"golden fleece. Percy, it's a fleece" you smile

"right. Fleece"

"so this calls for a quest" Annabeth says with a hint of excitement in her voice

"but..." She says

"but?" Percy questions

You grumble and scrub harshly "Tantalus won't allow it, he wants Thalia's tree to die so the barrier breaks completely, thus putting all of us at risk"

Annabeth smirks as she places the last of the dirty pot "Then we have to propose the quest to him in a way he can't say no"

______________________________

Past

"it's not (Name), maybe they switched them out, or cloned them, I just don't believe it" Damian says as he glares as the sitting figure in the garden of their house

The office is dark and a bit humid, Jason speaks up "When 'it' got out, they couldn't remember anything and 'it' only started to remember after a few minutes, like it was processing memories, 'it' could be a clone"

"Even if it is a clone, it doesn't matter, same DNA, same memories, 'its' a carbon copy, if it keeps Bruce from crashing out, 'it' can stay" Stephanie says

A "mission gone wrong", that's all it was, reports of people going missing after entering a certain hotel

We investigated, Batman sent (Name) inside the hotel to see the area, but comms were cut the moment they entered

Tim tried to hack, but there was no gadget to hack, not one inside the Hotel, Damian got so fed up, he threw a grenade at a window, but the hotel didn't budge, (Name) still hasn't come out of the building

Then they saw it, through a window, hundreds maybe even thousands of people, in one hotel, some were wearing ball gowns from like the 1700's, some were in punk 80's style, some were dressed in ancient Greek clothing, like time was mixed in the hotel

The problem was workers, no one paid them any mind as they just stood at a rooftop from a building near the hotel

Tim went to the entrance and was greeted by workers "Sir! Would you like to come in? We have a spa, a bar, a golf course, a race track, a pool, a climbing area, an arcade-" the worker continued to ramble

"Hello sir, would you like to try some of our lotus candies? They're complementary" another one smiled

It was creepy.

He immediately went back to report "It's like they want people to go inside, and none of the evidence shows that everyone who went missing was forcefully shoved in the hotel, they went in willingly, I think it's best to not enter, there's this weird vibe to it, like the hotel itself is the problem"

The silence was deafening, and Batman whispered "So you're telling me I sent my kid to a trap?"

They tried everything, they went back almost everyday, bombing the hotel, shooting it, the hotel would remain pristine, the only way was to enter

And it was after two years that passed that (Name) walked out of the hotel, they were out of their bat costume, instead they were in some clothes you'd wear to go gambling

Their minds were fuzzy at first, it didn't matter to Bruce, all he saw was his kid that he sent to hell and god knows what happened in that hotel

'it' would try to make inside jokes that (Name) made during missions

Batsibs were all happy when Bruce laid 'it' off from the vigilante job

Cassandra couldn't bring herself to talk to (Name), avoiding 'it' by closing her eyes

(Name) didn't act differently, no signs of trauma, in fact they testified the hotel was awesome, (Name) claimed that the hotel was so breathtaking they forgot about the mission, but it was fine, (Name) claimed they were only gone for 20 minutes

This was not (Name), no way...

______________________________

Present

"We know how to heal Thalia's tree! We know the place to go and everything!" Percy announced at the dinner table

Everyone murmured and Percy continued "Me and a select group of friends will go on a quest"

Tantalus roared "I didn't approve of this! I'd rather you all die in this wretched camp than- I mean..." He stopped yelling

But now the campers were yelling as well

"You already went on a quest, give others a chance!"

"You just want all the glory again!"

"Greedy Poseidon child"

With the new uproar Tantalus smirked "Well... The quest shall be approved, if! I choose who's going, and I choose you! Clarisse Daughter of Ares! You may choose two selective friends to go with you"

"But I was the one who-" Percy tried to reason

Tantalus glared "Do you all know a story? Where stupid children, anger the Great and smart and beloved me? Do you know what happened to that kid? You want it to happen to you?"

With that Percy shut up

I leaned in and whispered to Annabeth, Percy and Tyson, "So we are still going right?"

"Oh definitely" Percy said

______________________________

Okayss man there's this hurricane in our city and it hit yesterday, while I was outside, literally got the storm warning at school, so school was dismissed early but it was too late, it was flooded, then we had to parkour on some of the cars (not a joke, the car owners were like so understanding and let a bunch of students step on their hoods so we can pass) to get to higher ground

It was fun ngl

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar

[sceletaflores]

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV. 

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place. 

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. 

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later. 

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. 

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve. 

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway. 

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you. 

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine. 

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips. 

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars. 

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress. 

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice. 

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae. 

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it. 

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly. 

And he does, without hesitation. 

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth. 

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path. 

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. 

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. 

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

 Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white. 

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop. 

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[citricacidprince]

doodle request on relativity falls - id love 2 see ur vers of fiddleford and where he stands in the story!! :DD

Of course!!!

Oh Fiddleford, my dearly beloved Fiddleford, he’s just a little guy who makes machines that hurt people and I love him for that <3

In my Relativity Falls AU Fidds is a kid from Tennessee who moved to Gravity Falls pretty recently, like in the past year.

He’s still really handy with mechanics, like a genuine prodigy, but he’s so riddled with anxiety that it’s a battle to get him to share any of his projects outside of his robots he makes to get revenge on those who wrong him!

He really does like hanging out with the twins, he thinks their both fun and is very happy they actually wanna be his friend, however their constant ‘Getting into weird and magical trouble’ is so stress inducing to him he’s going to get gray hairs by the time he’s 20 (Dipper can relate-)

I don’t have a lot of things solidified for him yet, other than I want him to be EXTREMELY tempted to use the Memory Gun on himself, to forget a lot of the horrifying things he’s seen over the summer, but is stopped by Candy (The inventor of the gun) at the last second. You see, Candy didn’t spiral like Fiddleford did in the show, she only ever used the memory gun on herself once. However, she used it to erase every bit of knowledge she ever learned about the weirdness of Gravity Falls, and Candy had spent YEARS of her life dedicated to it, she was arguably more curious about the weirdness of Gravity Falls than Dipper was. He was only curious out of morbid curiosity, she saw the whimsy and wonder in it all. So when Candy used the Memory Gun on herself and erased such a huge chunk of her memory it cracked her psyche, not leaving her a rambling and insane kook like Fiddleford, but more oblivious and unaware to everything around her while also being a liiiiittle ‘not all there’.

Between the two of them Candy definitely got the better end of the stick. Fiddleford was deemed insane and used the memory gun over and over again until he couldn’t even remember who he was anyone, his life falling apart. Candy used it once to make sure no one could ever use her research to hurt anyone after she learned her lab partner was literally working with an otherworldly being who could go into peoples heads and it cracked her mind because her research WAS her entire life, leaving her oblivious and dazed. However, Candy managed to find people who cared about her and were willing to care for her despite this. Sure she lives in the dump, but whenever a storm comes through or she gets hungry she can always go up to her friends Grenda, Mabel Mason, or even Pacifica at some point to help her out. Fiddleford had no one.

I want Candy to give Fidds a little pep talk, convincing him that despite those memories being scary and uncomfortable he’s going to need all of them because they’re what will help him grow as a person. He can’t just pick and choose which ones he wants because one day he’ll realize he doesn’t have any memories left to burn.

Maybe there could even be a moment where Fidds tries to use the memory gun on Candy because he convinces himself he NEEDS it and doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of hating choice, but freezes up when he realizes it does work on her anymore. The realizes what he just did because of how badly he wanted that memory gun seconds after he did it and starts to tremble, dropping the memory gun as he begins uncontrollably crying that he ‘didn’t mean it’ and he’s sorry. Candy wouldn’t hold it against him, just seeing a scared kid who was so desperate to make the mind numbing anxiety that he would do anything, and she’d hug him and tell him it’s okay before leading him back to the rest of the group.

Fiddleford makes me soooo ill I love him <3

[sy-on-boy]

Real talk: the fact that Anya expects to read Demetrius’ mind but sees nothing is kind of sad because Demetrius saw his 6yo brother approach and congratulate him, and had zero thoughts in his brain. But that doesn’t mean Demetrius doesn’t care about him. When Damian stutters, Demetrius initiates conversation by talking about Damian’s grades, showing that he indeed pays attention.

Demetrius seems almost resentful by Damian’s insistence to impress Donovan, giving out a snarky, passive aggressive, teen appropriate response: “How would I know? It’s not as if I’m in regular contact with him.” This is like the passive aggressive version of whatever is going on with Melinda. Damian is a relatively innocent 6yo kid seeking his father’s approval, but both his mother and his brother appear to be seriously affected (in a bad way) by Donovan, and they avoid talking about Donovan even as Damian repeatedly mentions him. Demetrius doesn’t understand Damian’s desire for their father’s approval. He also doesn’t understand his father, hinting at some sort of disconnect between them.

What also saddens me a bit is how Demetrius barely acknowledged Damian’s friends talking to him. Like, they’re six year old kids trying to make a good impression. Still, Demetrius didn’t completely ignore them, just gave a meaningless “oh” and decided to stop thinking about people. It’s very much giving “stressed (and depressed) to the point of apathy”. When facing the innocence (ignorance?) and optimism of 6yo kids, Demetrius doesn’t understand. (And maybe he doesn’t understand friendship, which is what Damian has?)

I mentioned before that characters Anya met are probably “good” characters on the side of Forgers or at least are sympathetic to readers. Because if Anya met a “bad” character and read their mind, she would be too OP and the plot could be quickly solved. It’s like how we all thought Melinda was suspicious when she met Yor, but then Anya met Melinda and read her mind to reveal that she cares about Damian (even if it’s in a twisted way). Demetrius is interesting because he subverts what I said above by thinking very little, so Anya cannot really read him. But so far, I think his portrayal is that of a typical middle schooler with middle school angst, and he cares about Damian even if he has zero thoughts on his brain (and doesn’t like the way Damian craves fatherly approval). He is still a child and presumably a victim of his father’s parenting.

The framing is also interesting. Damian telling his friends to go on without him while he waits for Demetrius. The panel of Demetrius towering over a stuttering Damian. Demetrius going away, showing a panel of him as a small figure in an otherwise blank background. That panel when Anya thinks Damian’s relatives are weird has her looking at Damian while he’s some distance away from her (and the rest of his friends). The brothers feel disconnected. Damian is both eager and nervous to talk to Demetrius. Demetrius is nonchalant and apathetic, but not impolite or outwardly wholly dismissive.

Given Damian’s wacky family situation, I’m glad he has friends at Eden. Ewen and Emile of course are steadfast and loyal companions, always eager to back up their beloved boss man. Anya can read his mind and she knows about his insecurities (and also his weird family).

Becky is also good as a friend because she doesn’t care about sucking up to Damian, she often calls him out, but she also supports Damian when he deserves it. A sweet scene here is Damian saying he’s a Desmond so he’s expected to get a star, and Becky adding “it’s still a great achievement. Congrats!”. Becky is validating his success and telling Damian it’s okay to be proud and happy for himself. Even though she’s usually judgemental towards Damian, she’s still kind to him because that’s who she is as a character.

In the end, Damian still wants his father’s attention. He had no idea Demetrius wasn’t that close to their father… I would assume Demetrius spent most of his time at Eden and this is Damian’s first year at Eden, so he actually gets to interact with his brother instead of hearing things about him?

So far, Demetrius seems like a very jaded character in contrast to Damian who feels like a beam of sunshine now. He’s the heir so he’s got more troubles. But it’s nice that he’s finally debuted and no longer in mystery. Can’t wait to see what Endo has in store for him :)

[obscure-entity]

your shading is AMAZING specially when its conveying organic forms..... do you have any tips for people who dont know wrf going on (with shading)

ok so HI. hi. my old tutorial pisses me off so i will make a new one

i made a guy whose sole purpose is to be shaded so dont worry he likes it. and his name. his name will be mr. Boob. mr boob does not have to be blue

theres probably way better explanations of how to do it but unfortunately trying to "emulate" shading does ask you to somewhat understand ur character in a 3d way. like what would the 2d shape be if you "sliced" it? mr boob is made of so many circles. his tail also does a kind of weird perspective foreshortening thing because its pointing at you. is this being conveyed

you obviuously dont have to draw a horrendous grid on your characters skin to do this . BUT it helps you put down (or at least envision) the lines of the form shading :

dont worry about cast shadows or the shading color because this is FORM SHADOW time only. think about what surfaces of the character are obviously facing away from the light source and put down the "separation line" of the shading based on that. thr most important thing is that youre trying to separate light from dark

im going to pick the first one for cast shadows bc it will be the most obvious to me

ok so. his ears and snout are blocking other surfaces of his body from the light, which means a shadow is cast!!!! bam. i saw someone describe cast shadows as what the light's pov "can't see." his entire body is putting down a cast shadow on the ground too

im impatient so i blended the form shadows now. its usually the easiest to just NOT blend cast shadows as a way of conveying that they are still cast shadows. but you can still blend them if you want to show "distance" between the obstruction and the surface its blocking. but its just a way of saying form and cast shadows should not be treated the same even if their softness coincides

im going to lump reflection and ambient light together because theyre like. similar. reflections dont just happen in mirrors

since the sky is blue, making the ambient lighting, i tinged mr. boobs existing shadow to be a bit blue. (*this is kind of important because it can help you decide a shading color, which should USUALLY be based on the environment) (unless your character is just in the transparent void then it doesnt matter)

since the ground is pink, i made pink light bounce off of him. pointed and labelled. i dont rlly know how to go more in depth than that

contact shadows are literally shadows formed from direct-touching contact. very little light can reach in there, even from how reflections disperse, which means youre free to use the darkest color available (black). in this case mr. boob is making contact with the floor. because he is sitting on the floor.

i touched him up a bit and wow!!!!!!!!!! look at mr. boob!!! he is so beautifully sculpted.

and one more thing

thats right. i made mr boob PINK. hes fucking ruined now. just kidding i would never say that to him

what im trying to convey here (its the easiest with really light colors) is a transitional color. this can also show subsurface scattering depending on how you use it which is fun to look at. the mistake i made on my last tutorial was "Just pick a warm saturated color!" which is really wrong in examples like Blue mr boob. because it would be weird to use a warm color to transition from blue to blue.

if you have a character that isn't bright enough then obviously the shadows wont be as visible. its BEST to bring more attention to highlights and reflections to reveal the form a bit. they play the biggest role with darker colors

thats all i can think of. fun things to look up:

structuralization + contour lines + foreshortening etc. 3d lingo

form shadows

cast shadows

ambient light

contact shadows

subsurface scattering

im also just speaking out of my ass otherwise. i didnt look up any of these terms until the end now im inferring and hoping i got them right

and remember every time you shade mr boob will be rooting for you