#KIDS DONT KNOW WHAT CONTROLLERS ARE ANYMORE

[archieb303]

This makes me want to scream

this can't be true can it

[faaun]

i feel rly sad and conflicted abt one of my best friends on earth but idk who to ask for advice bc i usually would have consulted her in this situation lmao

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting 

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself 

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼 

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer. 

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was. 

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal. 

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough  testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far. 

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.” 

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft. 

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji. 

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin. 

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more? 

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any  7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story. 

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was. 

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad. 

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it. 

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.” 

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them. 

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood. 

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m 

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you. 

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething 

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up. 

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of  1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them. 

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena. 

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games. 

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast. 

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up. 

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them. 

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet. 

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off. 

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight. 

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time 

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue. 

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath. 

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm. 

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet. 

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time 

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you? 

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it. 

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to. 

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue. 

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.” 

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough. 

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad. 

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you. 

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest. 

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.   

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him. 

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking. 

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

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[affectionatemud]

TW: food insecurity

its crazy being broke and experiencing grocery day because usually these days i have half a meal or a whole meal a day and im good. but today is grocery day so i decided to treat myself and had both breakfast and dinner and i feel like ive eaten an entire buffet

tw for tags: diet culture? kinda. more food insecurity. slight discussion of past (and maybe a little current) ed

[xxlelaxx]

I'm so over people making their problems someone else's problem. Listen buddy, you got issues, you take care of it. Don't make everyone else around you do it. Figure it out cause everyone else has to do that too <3

[nightingale-prompts]

I don't think I could be an alien pet. Are they going to give me the right care? How much social interaction will I get? Don't leave me in the house all day but don't leave me outside alone. There could be alien predators.

Also what about food? Will they don't study the foods humans eat and give me junk food all the time? I could get fat and then they'll post pictures online of my morbidly obese ass. That's not funny. And what if they give me treats but it's like caramel? I don't like caramel and then they'll complain about how expensive the treats are but I can't control what I like and I'm not eating it.

What if they have kids and expect me to play with them? Sure I can handle being a nanny pet for a while but not all the time, especially if the kids are always trying to touch me or worst pick me up.

Also if they have people over I would be uncomfortable because they always want my attention. I don't know them and I shouldn't be expected to like them just because they are in my house. I will hit them if they try to pick me up.

I make a lot of noise too, I hate when it's too quiet but I hate when other people make noise.

Also what if they decide they dont want me anymore? Do I go to a shelter? I already have abandonment issues!

Im clearly not ready for domestication.

[urdreamydoodles]

how about scott, logan, colossus, jean, storm, hank, and wanda with a wild child reader, this is a kid who doesn’t know the meaning of structure or discipline. They are the epitome of skateboarder who live in a basement who survives on nothing but greasy new york pizza( they eat nothing but junk food and take out) . A kid who is constantly coming home bruised and bleeding from wild stunts. Its not even they’re fault they have the kind of neglectful parents that are like i dont care what you do as long as you don't bother me, so they chose to have absolute freedom

X-Men x Child!Reader

You are a wild kid due to your parents' neglect

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Colossus, Hank McCoy, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- You first meet Logan when he pulls you out of a scuffle in a dingy alley, your knuckles bloodied from throwing punches at a group of older kids who deserved it for being jerks. His gruff voice cuts through the tension, "What the hell are you doin', kid?" You shrug, brushing past him like he’s just another stranger trying to lecture you. But Logan isn’t just anyone, and the next time he catches you doing something reckless—trying to ride your skateboard off a railing—you realize you’re not shaking him off so easily.

- Logan quickly learns that you’re a wild spirit, one who doesn’t know when to stop. Your bruises and scratches only fuel his frustration. “You think you’re indestructible, huh?” he growls after dragging you to the mansion with your arm in a makeshift sling. “Guess what? You ain’t.” His tough love feels invasive at first, but there’s a strange warmth to it. Maybe because, deep down, you can tell he actually cares, unlike anyone else in your life.

- Despite his grumbling, Logan becomes your shadow. He’s there when you wipe out attempting a trick and nearly break your ankle. He’s the one hauling you to Hank for first aid when you stumble back to the mansion with a bloody nose. "One of these days, you're gonna kill yourself, and I ain’t buryin' a kid," he grumbles, but his actions betray his words. The way he watches you so intently, like he’s trying to figure you out, makes you feel… seen.

- One day, after Logan drags you out of another scrape, you snap. “Why do you even care?!” you yell, your voice cracking. “You don’t know what it’s like to not have anyone!” Logan’s face hardens, and for a moment, you think you’ve hit a nerve. “You’re wrong, kid,” he says, his tone unusually soft. Later, you overhear him talking to Charles about you. "They remind me of me. Don’t know how to stop fightin’ ‘cause they never had anyone to fight for ‘em."

- Logan starts teaching you how to channel your energy into something productive. “If you’re gonna take risks, at least do it smart,” he grunts, handing you a pair of gloves to protect your hands. He shows you how to defend yourself properly, how to pick your battles. It’s not just about fighting—it’s about self-control, something he knows all too well. And while you hate admitting it, his lessons actually stick.

- The breakthrough comes when you stumble into his room late at night, tears streaming down your face after a nightmare. You hate showing weakness, but Logan doesn’t push. He just sits with you, his presence steady and grounding. “You’re not alone, kid,” he says quietly. “Not anymore.” It’s the first time you realize that maybe, just maybe, you have someone in your corner.

- Over time, you start seeing Logan as more than the grumpy guy who keeps saving your ass. He’s your protector, your mentor, your family. When he gruffly hands you a plate of food during a mansion barbecue and tells you to “eat somethin’ that ain’t junk,” you laugh. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t hide the small smirk tugging at his lips. You’re still a wild child, but now you’ve got someone who understands—and who won’t let you face the world alone.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- You meet Remy when you’re caught sneaking onto the mansion grounds, trying to pull off some ridiculous stunt involving fireworks and a ramp. Instead of ratting you out, he smirks, intrigued by your audacity. “You got guts, kid,” he says, his Cajun accent dripping with charm. “But guts won’t save you from bein’ stupid.” He’s more amused than annoyed, but you get the feeling he’s watching you now—and not just because you nearly burned the lawn down.

- Remy quickly picks up on your chaotic energy and reckless behavior. “You remind me of a younger me,” he teases, tossing a playing card between his fingers. “All fire, no plan.” At first, you think he’s mocking you, but there’s a glint in his eye that suggests he gets it. He sees through your bravado, recognizing the pain you’re trying to bury under all your stunts and defiance.

- Unlike Logan, Remy doesn’t try to stop you outright. Instead, he plays along, meeting you where you’re at. He even joins you in some of your escapades, though he always makes sure to keep things from getting too out of hand. “If you gonna be crazy, at least do it with style,” he says, flipping his trench coat dramatically as he guides you away from trouble.

- One day, after you’ve crashed spectacularly and are nursing a busted knee, Remy sits beside you with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “You don’t gotta live like dis, y’know,” he says softly. “Runnin’ wild ain’t freedom—it’s just a way to hide.” His words hit harder than you’d like to admit, and for the first time, you let yourself wonder if he might be right.

- Remy starts teaching you his tricks—not just the flashy card stuff, but how to think ahead, how to read people, how to stay one step ahead of the chaos. “Life’s a game, cher,” he says, his voice light but his gaze sharp. “And you gotta learn how to play it.” You soak up his lessons, not realizing until later that he’s been guiding you toward something more stable all along.

- The turning point comes when you call Remy late one night, scared and unsure after a particularly bad fight with your parents. He doesn’t hesitate, showing up within minutes and whisking you away to his favorite rooftop hideout. “Ain’t no shame in needin’ help, kid,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. For the first time, you let yourself lean on someone else.

- Remy becomes your anchor, your partner in crime, and your found family all rolled into one. He still teases you endlessly, but there’s a warmth to it now, a sense of belonging you’ve never had before. And when he hands you a deck of cards and says, “You’re one of us now,” you know he means it.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- You meet Kurt when he teleports into the middle of one of your stunts, startling you so badly you nearly fall off the scaffolding you’d been climbing. “Mein Gott, what are you doing up here?” he exclaims, grabbing you before you can tumble to the ground. Despite your protests, he doesn’t let go until you’re safely on solid ground. “You are going to give me a heart attack!”

- Kurt is immediately concerned by your recklessness, but his approach is softer than the others. “Why do you put yourself in such danger, mein freund?” he asks, his golden eyes full of genuine worry. You brush him off at first, but his kindness is disarming. He doesn’t scold you; he just wants to understand.

- It doesn’t take long for Kurt to realize that your behavior stems from more than just a thirst for adrenaline. When you accidentally let slip a comment about your neglectful parents, he connects the dots. “No one should feel like they have to fend for themselves,” he says quietly. His words linger, echoing in your mind long after he’s gone.

- Kurt becomes a constant presence in your life, always ready with a kind word or a helping hand. He patches you up after your latest mishap, his touch gentle as he bandages your scraped knees. “You have so much potential,” he tells you, his tone earnest. “Do not waste it on proving yourself to people who do not care.” His faith in you is both comforting and terrifying.

- He introduces you to the quiet joys of his world—stargazing from the mansion’s roof, reading old adventure novels, sharing stories from his travels. Slowly, you begin to see that life doesn’t have to be a constant whirlwind of chaos. There’s beauty in stillness, too, and Kurt shows you how to find it.

- The breakthrough comes during a particularly bad night when you show up at his door, trembling and unsure how to explain the weight you’re carrying. Kurt doesn’t push; he simply listens, his quiet empathy wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “You are not alone,” he says softly. “And you never will be, as long as I am here.”

- Over time, Kurt becomes more than just a mentor—he’s your family. His unwavering belief in you helps you believe in yourself, and his gentle guidance gives you the strength to start healing. When he tells you, “You are like a sibling to me,” you feel a warmth you’ve never known before.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- You meet Scott after he catches you skateboarding through the mansion’s hallways, narrowly avoiding a collision with Jean. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he demands, his tone sharp. You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his authority, but Scott doesn’t back down. “This isn’t a playground,” he says firmly. “If you’re going to be here, you need to follow the rules.”

- Scott’s strict demeanor grates on you, and you go out of your way to push his buttons. Every time he tells you to stop doing something, you double down, your defiance fueling his frustration. “You can’t just do whatever you want,” he says one day, his voice rising. “This isn’t about control—it’s about keeping you safe!”

- Despite his exasperation, Scott can’t help but worry about you. He starts noticing the bruises, the late-night returns, the way you flinch whenever someone mentions your parents. “Is everything okay at home?” he asks gently, his concern breaking through his usual stoicism. You brush him off, but his question lingers in your mind.

- Scott eventually realizes that his strict approach isn’t working, so he tries a different tactic. He starts showing up at the skate park, watching from a distance as you pull off tricks. “You’ve got talent,” he admits grudgingly. “But talent doesn’t mean much if you don’t take care of yourself.” His rare praise catches you off guard, and you start seeing him in a new light.

- He begins mentoring you, teaching you the value of discipline and structure. “It’s not about following orders,” he explains. “It’s about having a plan, knowing what you’re fighting for.” His lessons are tough, but they resonate, and you find yourself striving to meet his expectations—not because you have to, but because you want to.

- The turning point comes when Scott finds you sitting alone in the mansion’s garden, your usual bravado stripped away. “I don’t know how to fix this,” you admit, your voice shaking. Scott sits beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he says quietly. “We’re here for you—I’m here for you.”

- Scott becomes a pillar in your life, someone you can rely on no matter what. His unwavering support gives you the strength to face your demons, and his belief in you helps you start believing in yourself. When he calls you “family,” it’s the first time the word feels real, and you know you’ve finally found a place where you belong.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- You meet Jean when you crash into her during a particularly reckless skateboard trick, nearly sending her coffee flying. She catches it with her telekinesis, raising an eyebrow as she looks you over. “Impressive landing,” she says dryly. “But maybe next time, try not to take me out with you.” Her calm demeanor throws you off, but you can’t help noticing the faint amusement in her smile.

- Jean quickly picks up on your chaotic nature—not just from your antics, but because your mind is loud, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that practically scream for attention. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” she tells you one day after catching you sneaking out for another dangerous stunt. Her words linger, even if you act like they don’t matter.

- She doesn’t confront you as directly as others might, but her presence is constant. She starts showing up in subtle ways—inviting you to sit with her during meals, offering to help patch you up after a bad fall, or simply listening when you’re too tired to pretend everything’s fine. Jean has a knack for making you feel seen, even when you’re trying to disappear into the noise.

- One day, after you’ve come home battered and bruised yet again, Jean corners you in the kitchen. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” she asks, her voice gentle but firm. When you try to brush her off, she places a hand on yours. “I know what it’s like to feel out of control. But there are other ways to find freedom.” Her sincerity cracks something open in you, though you’re not ready to admit it yet.

- Jean begins introducing you to meditation, something you initially laugh off as “not your thing.” But when she guides you through it, her voice soft and steady, you find a surprising sense of peace. “Chaos doesn’t define you,” she says one evening. “You can still be yourself without destroying yourself.” Her unwavering belief in you starts to shift how you see yourself.

- The turning point comes when Jean catches you breaking down after a particularly bad day. You try to push her away, but she doesn’t let you. “You’re allowed to feel this way,” she says, her arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace. “But you don’t have to face it alone.” For the first time, you let yourself cry in front of someone, and her compassion feels like a lifeline.

- Jean becomes your safe haven, the person who reminds you that strength doesn’t always mean pushing through the pain. She helps you channel your energy into healthier outlets, guiding you with patience and understanding. When she calls you “family,” it feels like coming home, and you know you’ve found someone who will always have your back.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- You meet Storm during a thunderstorm, when you’re out pulling stunts despite the pouring rain. She appears seemingly out of nowhere, her white hair glowing against the dark sky. “What are you doing out here?” she asks, her voice calm but commanding. When you shrug and say something about “living life to the fullest,” she shakes her head. “This isn’t living. This is tempting fate.”

- Ororo is both fascinated and concerned by your recklessness. She sees your wild spirit but also senses the pain behind it. “The storm inside you is powerful,” she says one day, her gaze piercing. “But if you do not learn to guide it, it will consume you.” Her words stick with you, even if you pretend not to care.

- Unlike others, Ororo doesn’t try to control you. Instead, she shows you the beauty of balance. She takes you on walks through nature, pointing out how even the fiercest storms have purpose and harmony. “Freedom isn’t chaos,” she says gently. “It’s understanding your power and using it wisely.” Her wisdom challenges your worldview in ways you don’t expect.

- After one particularly dangerous stunt leaves you with a sprained ankle, Ororo carries you back to the mansion without a word. Later, as she wraps your foot with care, she looks at you with a mix of sternness and compassion. “Why do you punish yourself like this?” she asks softly. You have no answer, but the question lingers.

- Storm begins teaching you control—not through force, but through patience. She encourages you to embrace your passions without letting them rule you. She even takes you flying with her, the wind carrying you both as she shows you what true freedom feels like. “You are not a prisoner of your past,” she says one evening. “You can create your own path.”

- The breakthrough comes during a quiet moment in the mansion garden, where you admit that your recklessness comes from a place of pain and neglect. Ororo listens without judgment, her presence as steady as the earth beneath your feet. “You are stronger than you realize,” she says, her voice full of conviction. “And you are not alone in this.”

- Over time, Ororo becomes your guide and your family. Her unwavering belief in you helps you find balance in your life, and her calm strength inspires you to grow. When she calls you “child of the storm,” it’s not just a nickname—it’s a reminder that you’ve found a place where you truly belong.

Piotr Rasputin aka. Colossus

- You meet Piotr after crashing into him—literally. Your skateboard ricochets off his metal form, leaving you sprawled on the ground. “Are you alright?” he asks, his deep voice filled with concern. When you laugh it off, he frowns. “You should be more careful. Your life is not something to take lightly.”

- Piotr is immediately struck by your wild energy, but instead of chastising you, he approaches you with gentle curiosity. “Why do you live this way?” he asks one day, his steel-blue eyes sincere. When you deflect with a joke, he doesn’t press, but his quiet concern stays with you.

- Despite his towering form, Piotr is surprisingly soft-spoken and kind. He starts looking out for you in small ways—offering to carry your gear, fixing your skateboard when it breaks, even cooking meals for you when he notices you survive on junk food. “You must take care of your body,” he says with a small smile. “It is the only one you have.”

- One evening, after a particularly reckless stunt leaves you limping back to the mansion, Piotr sits you down and talks about his own struggles with responsibility and self-worth. “I know what it is like to feel lost,” he says quietly. “But pain does not have to define you.” His words are simple but powerful, and they linger in your mind.

- Piotr begins teaching you art as a way to channel your energy. At first, you scoff at the idea of painting, but his patience wins you over. “Art is not about perfection,” he says, guiding your hand. “It is about expression.” Slowly, you find yourself drawn to the calmness it brings, a stark contrast to your usual chaos.

- The turning point comes when you confide in Piotr about your neglectful parents. He listens without interruption, his steady presence grounding you. “You deserve better,” he says firmly. “And you are not alone anymore.” His unwavering support feels like a lifeline, and for the first time, you let yourself believe in the possibility of a better future.

- Piotr becomes a constant source of strength and stability in your life. His quiet kindness helps you find balance, and his belief in you gives you the courage to grow. When he calls you “family,” it feels like a promise—a reminder that you’ll never have to face the world alone again.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Your first encounter with Hank is in his lab, where you crash into a shelf of equipment while trying to skateboard through the mansion hallways. He looks up from his work, unamused, as you sheepishly pick up a beaker. “Fascinating,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “An experiment in chaos.” You expect him to yell, but instead, he studies you with quiet curiosity, his sharp intellect already dissecting your motives.

- Hank is both intrigued and exasperated by your lack of structure. “Do you understand the repercussions of your actions?” he asks when you try to sneak off with a bag of chips for dinner instead of eating a proper meal. His lectures are long and full of big words, but somewhere in the middle, you catch a hint of genuine concern.

- He starts observing your behavior more closely, not as a judgment but as a puzzle to solve. “You remind me of entropy,” he says one day, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Chaotic, unpredictable, but not without purpose.” Despite his logical approach, there’s warmth in the way he speaks to you, like he’s trying to understand rather than condemn.

- After finding you late at night in the kitchen, rummaging for junk food with a fresh set of scrapes and bruises, Hank decides to intervene. “Your body is a machine, and you’re running it into the ground,” he says, handing you a plate of something surprisingly healthy. When you grumble about his nagging, he smiles. “Consider it an experiment in self-preservation.”

- Hank starts introducing structure into your life in small, unobtrusive ways—inviting you to join him in the lab, teaching you how to fix your skateboard, and even sneaking vegetables into your meals. You find yourself drawn to his calm and steady presence, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

- One day, after a particularly reckless stunt leaves you with a sprained wrist, you break down and confess the truth about your home life. Hank listens intently, his usual verbosity giving way to silence as he processes your words. “You are not a failed experiment,” he says firmly. “You are a work in progress, and I intend to see you thrive.”

- Over time, Hank becomes your anchor, the person who helps you find balance between chaos and order. His guidance isn’t just about rules—it’s about helping you see your own potential. When he calls you “family,” it feels like the culmination of every moment he spent believing in you, even when you couldn’t believe in yourself.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- You meet Erik when you’re caught trespassing near one of his hideouts, attempting a trick off a rail. He steps out of the shadows, his imposing figure stopping you in your tracks. “You’ve got nerve,” he says, his voice cold and calculating. You expect him to throw you out, but instead, he watches you with a strange mix of curiosity and disdain.

- Erik is fascinated by your wild energy, though he would never admit it. “You remind me of my youth,” he says one day, his tone sharp. “Defiant, reckless, and utterly unafraid of consequences.” His words sting, but there’s something in his gaze—a flicker of understanding—that makes you pause.

- He doesn’t tolerate your antics, but he doesn’t outright condemn them either. Instead, he challenges you, questioning your choices in a way that forces you to reflect. “What are you running from?” he asks bluntly after catching you sneaking out again. His directness catches you off guard, and for once, you don’t have a snarky reply.

- Erik’s approach to helping you is harsh but effective. He doesn’t coddle or comfort—instead, he teaches you the value of strength and self-reliance. “The world will not be kind to you,” he says, his voice heavy with experience. “But that does not mean you must surrender to it.” His lessons are tough, but they resonate deeply.

- Despite his stern demeanor, Erik has moments of surprising gentleness. He notices your injuries, your exhaustion, your deflections, and though he doesn’t press, he makes it clear that he sees you. “Pain is a powerful motivator,” he says one evening. “But it does not have to define you.”

- The turning point comes when you break down after a particularly bad day, your defenses finally shattering. Erik doesn’t offer empty comfort—instead, he shares his own struggles, his own pain. “You are stronger than your circumstances,” he says quietly. “And you are not as alone as you think.”

- Erik becomes an unexpected source of stability in your life. His belief in your strength pushes you to grow, while his rare moments of kindness remind you that even the toughest exteriors can hide a compassionate heart. When he finally calls you “family,” it feels like the highest honor, a testament to the bond you’ve built through fire and resilience.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- You meet Wanda when you accidentally skate into one of her magical runes, disrupting a spell she was casting. She turns to you, her red eyes glowing faintly. “You shouldn’t be here,” she says, her voice laced with warning. But instead of scolding you, she tilts her head, curious. “Why are you always running?”

- Wanda is both drawn to and exasperated by your chaotic nature. “You remind me of Pietro,” she says one day, her voice tinged with sadness. “Always moving, never stopping to think about the consequences.” Her words cut deeper than you expect, leaving you to wonder why her disappointment stings so much.

- Unlike others, Wanda doesn’t try to impose structure on you. Instead, she meets you where you are, offering understanding without judgment. She starts leaving little charms around the mansion—spells to protect you from injury or to heal your bruises. “You may not care about yourself,” she says softly, “but I do.”

- One night, after returning home with a fresh set of cuts and scrapes, you find Wanda waiting for you. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. When you try to brush her off, she touches your hand, and for a moment, you feel the warmth of her magic easing your pain.

- Wanda starts teaching you small spells—little enchantments to protect yourself or to calm your restless mind. At first, you’re skeptical, but her patience and quiet encouragement win you over. “Magic isn’t about control,” she tells you one day. “It’s about balance—finding harmony within chaos.”

- The breakthrough comes when you finally open up about your neglectful home life. Wanda listens intently, her empathy as deep as her power. “I know what it’s like to feel unwanted,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “But you are wanted here. You are loved.” Her words feel like a balm, soothing wounds you didn’t know you had.

- Wanda becomes a source of unconditional support in your life. Her kindness and understanding help you start healing, and her belief in you gives you the strength to believe in yourself. When she calls you “family,” it feels like a spell—a promise that no matter what, you’ll always have a place where you belong.

[m1sa-w1sa]

Can you do platonic harbingers with a reader harbinger that was once cruel, a bit immature, arrogant, and sadistic suddenly become more mature, calculative, has more control of their emotion, and takes things more seriously after being humbled by their many defeats at the hands of the Traveler and her allies? How do the Harbingers Pierro, Dottore, Arlecchino, and LA Signora feel about the reader's drastic change of personality?

(Oo!! Sure I will! You can always request again if you want the rest!!)

Frozen Heart

Pierro

•He was relieved that you finally got your emotions under control but also slightly sad about it

•Before you were always so excited or happy to see him but now you just walk past him with a slight nod and a deep sigh

•When he offers to train you the only word you say is “No” and walk away, harbinger meetings you said nothing

•Pierro saw you as a grandchild and even though him and the others wanted you to get your emotions under control he does miss the spark you had before

Dottore

•Its like he had a weight lift off his shoulders when he saw you change

•Yes you two were on good terms and you helped him with experiments and you related to him and his mindset

•Back in sumeru when he was known as Zandik he gad trouble finding people you related to him and you did fill in that spot

•So if you really think about it he is a little saddened by the fact that you changed yourself for them knowing that other harbingers, the people from sheznaya wont understand his ideas

Arlecchino

•She was a little disappointed that you had to learn the hard way about your emotions but didnt look into it

•Arlecchino did see you as a child either way and seeing you not even say hi to any of the harbingers anymore

“Good afternoon [NAME]”

“Hm”

•she sometimes thinks of the times she was overboard with you when you failed mission like she hasnt either

•Seeing your head down holding your tears as all the harbingers gaze at you harshly all of them yelling at you

•She does think that it was her fault that your spark was tooken away

La Signora

•Again she was relieved that you changed

•She should be happy that you dont act like a stupid little kid anymore

•But she isnt? Why isnt she? She was apart of the ones that WANTED you to change so why isnt she happy?!

•Theres a part of her that was sad when you grew emotionless you reminded her of him (meaning that you made her happy like she was before she joined the harbingers)

•She looks at you during meeting, missions, training, any time she could get she doesnt show her emotions none of them do how could they after they shut out yours?

This is what they wanted, so why are they so saddened by it?

(Fin!! Sorry if i posted a lil late!!!)

[konigsblog]

i dont care what anyone says you!! are the best!! i live for the gross and nasty könig stuff sm. has me giggling and kicking my feet and gnawing on my laptop and spinning in my chair.

keep going because you're doing great!! 💐💐🍪

Gross, Rapist!König has become my #1 headcannon. You can't tell me this freakish, deranged social recluse wouldn't crave control and authority. His status means he has control over recruits — that's all he knows. That's all he wants, is to prove that he isn't weak anymore, that he's no longer that weak and socially anxious kid that he once was, being harassed and ridiculed by his bullies nonstop.

Thank you, my sweetest — I appreciate you much 🌷

[0ketinha]

Tmi Tuesday ask: In the bros' own words, how would they honestly describe each other?

@tea0w0stache write it all!

JD's description of each one

Bruce- "My right hand man, he's reliable and i can trust him to be there when i need him."

Clay- [REDACTED]

Floyd- "My left hand man, he's loyal. though sometimes i worry about him. he's been .. distant."

Branch- "My baby brother, my golden child. he looks up to us. i can't let him know. i can't let him find out."

Bruce's description of each one

JD- "He protects us. he keeps us safe. he tells us everything is okay. i need him to. otherwise, i .. may start .. doubting it."

Clay- "I miss him more than ill admit."

Floyd- "There's something going on in that mind of his. despite it all, he never seems too sure. atleast not as of late. he's off in his own little world."

Branch- "Hes so sweet and naive. I pray to JD that he stays that way forever. i don't know what id do if he didn't."

Floyd's description of each one

JD- "I feel like im in the presence of divinity and it feels wrong. he shouldn't be placed so high above everyone; we were kids then, but so was he. the weight of these lies keep me down."

Bruce- "He's too dependent on JD but i can understand. i used to be like that too. the difference is i see the truth. he refuses to listen to it. no matter what i try to tell him."

Clay- " .. i wonder if you lived, would Johnny be this way?"

Branch: "I envy your belief and innocence. I don't want to ruin that. but sometimes i wish you knew. sometimes i want to tell you."

Clay's description of each one ( when they hadn't met again )

JD- "What did grandma last tell you Johnny?"

Bruce- "I hope you dont let Johnny get too out of control."

Floyd: "Are you still a cry baby, little brother?"

Branch: "What are you like?"

Branch's description of each one

JD- "He dotes on me a lot, and i want to be just like him!! he did such a good thing. I wish he'd tell me more about Clay though."

Bruce- "He gives the best advice!! I always know what to do when he's around. He reminds me of grandma."

Clay- "Why can't remember your face anymore?"

Floyd- "I like being around him, but sometimes i wanna know what makes him look at me so sad."

[scriblubed-bonnibel]

Super Blind

Close friends to lovers | Jordan Li x (gn)reader

Reader will use they/them pronouns as well (lets go nonbinaries woooh <3) Just some oneshot I’ve been brain rotting about while scrolling through tumblr.

Summary: Jordan and y/n have been flirting every now and then but can’t seem to confess. One day they just… do.

Context: reader has powers that affect their emotions. Be it taking them from others, making them feel emotions, just reading their emotions, and sometimes they can even exude their emotions; having others feel it when closer to the reader.

Warnings: bad language, cute moments, kissing

If you aren’t ok with the whole “switching between masc and fem” thing then feel free to click off (tho i doubt it cause ure reading a Jordan Li fic so yeah)

—————————————————————————

“Emma I don’t know anymore! Jordan’s probably high fucking some- fucking dude! And I’m here lonely-“ “hey!” Emma looks at me offended, “and ranting to my best friend about my crush for like what- years now!” Emma stands up and puts her hands on my shoulders, “hey, if it’s worth anything. JORDAN TOTALLY FUCKING LIKES YOU YOU IDIOT.” She shakes me back and forth.

“You’re just saying that” I brush her off and flop on my bed. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She looks at me dumbfounded and as if I said the stupidest thing ever. “They literally gaze at you. And did you not notice the fact that uhhh you have flowers on your desk from them!” She gestures to the small flower arrangement on my desk.

“Big whoop. They got those flowers for me after I recovered from that stupid slip.” I rolled my eyes at her. “This-“ Emma trails off in frustration and face palms. “Listen, I’m just saying, Jordan, one of the top students, most probably maybe possibly has a crush on you maybe wants to even fuck you!” I laugh at her and just pull the covers over myself. “I doubt it! Now leave cause I’m pretty sure you’re late for one of your classes.”

“OH SHI-“ she’s cut off by the sound of a door slamming shut. “Loser” I laugh and close my eyes under the blanket, trying to just forget about Jordan… Jordan… Jordan… and.. y/n. Y/n and Jordan. A dreamy sigh escapes my lips as I swoon once more. Without even realizing, sleep takes over me.

Gentle knocks from my door wakes me up. “Emma for the last time my door is always open!!” I yell. “You lock your door once when she wants to visit and she just forgets it’s always open..” I grumble. The door opens slowly. “Y/n..?” Jordan’s voice calls out.

wait

Jordan’s. Voice? Their. Voice? Panic shoots through me as I sit up in distress. “Jordan-“ i cough quickly to try to sound less panicked, “uh- ahem Jordan! Hey, hi! DONT COME IN- I’m- my room is a mess-“ I look around and see the door still cracked a little bit. “Not- not looking! Just wanted you to know it’s me!” They say, laughing softly… I sigh again… their laugh- FIX YOUR ROOM AND YOURSELF GET IT TOGETHER.

I run to the full body mirror and fix myself up. Taming my bedhead, adjusting my sleeping shirt and shorts, making sure I look normal but also… maybe a tiny little bit cute. I fix up the random clutter on the floor and spray a little bit of cologne everywhere.

I get to the door and put my hand on my heart to sorta calm down. Okay… one.. two.. three and-

There is no denying how stupidly in love I looked the moment I opened the door to see them in their feminine. Eyes softened, lips in a content smile, and sighing dreamily. “Hi~” I breathed out, still swooning. They dont help my case at all when they smirk and look at me in a similar manner. “Hi…” they trail off, blinking a few times before getting both of us out of our trance.

“Sorry for uhh the whole emotion wafting off of me. Still learning how to control it.” I laugh awkwardly. They wave their hand in a ‘nah dont worry’ motion, “Y/n you know I dont mind that at all. We’re all learning.” We both smile briefly, “so, whatcha doing here?” I open the door wider and sit on my bed. They enter, closing the door behind them, and sit next to me. “I uhh honestly…” I wasn’t looking at them, too busy fiddling with my hands, but I heard them change into their masculine form. “I was just around.. and wanted to hang with you…” ‘hang out.. with me?’ I thought before I looked at them.

They were.. already looking at me. A blush slowly crept up on my face as I internally panicked, replying to cover up my distress. “Uhh yeah sure, we could invite Cate for a girls time, or maybe have Emma ditch for I dont know-” I get cut off “why not just us?” They ask, shrugging nonchalantly. “Just us?” I repeat. “Y’know… just Y/n and Jordan. Just us.” Their gaze is turned away for some reason.. “I MEAN- if you don’t want to then yeah of course Kate could come arou-” they began to ramble but I touch their hand gently, focusing on calming their emotions down.

“I would like that” I smile. “Yeah..? Like a date right that’s what I’m trying to invite you to” they clarify, their emotions wafting to me… infatuation, swooning, happiness… ‘they’re happy…’. I smile and nod happily.

They stand up and offer their hand, then an uncertainty surfaces on their face. “Uhm… do you want feminine or masculine..?” They ask still in their masculine form. “Are you shitting me? How many times do I have to say this. Anything is fine as long as it’s what you want and what you feel like.” I smile up at them and stand from the bed to give them a quick hug. I hear them changing into their feminine form/nothing change as they decide to remain in their masculine form and push them to face away from me. I smile, feeling more comfortable with them again, dropping the whole “in love with you” deal and being my authentic self.

“Now don’t fucking peak, lemme just change clothes.” I said as I looked at my closet. “Where’re we going again?”

Jordan’s POV

‘I cannot fucking believe they said yes- I mean I know Kate said they liked me but I was still unsure-‘ “Jordan!!! Helloooo?” I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Y/n shakes me from behind. “Earth to Jordannn, where are you taking meeeeee.” I chuckle at their antics, “just dress casual, we aren’t going to the fucking gala or something.” I laugh and I hear shuffling behind me. Tempted… I turn slowly- “not a fucking peep Jordan Li.” They say sternly. I laugh and put my hands up in defense “alright alright.”

Moments pass and I feel two taps on my shoulder. I turn and smile at them. Wearing such comfy yet cute clothes to our first date. Our first date. Damn.

Reader’s POV

Walking around with Jordan Li was normal. We would do this from time to time whenever stress got to us. But this was different. This was a fucking date. Like, hand brushing against each other, got coffee or tea kinda fucking date.

We decided to walk around campus, much to the distaste of Jordan. “You are sooo fucking lucky I put up with your goody-two-shoes behavior” they tell me, squinting playfully at me. “I am very lucky thank you.” I respond to spite them. They smile and shake their head.

We walk in comforting silence. It’s so strange how the context of a walk can change the whole way it feels. Normally we would just walk casually and we would talk about anything and everything. Shoving each other, being just friends. But now… it feels so… pure? I guess… like puppy love. Jordan taking glances at me and I would do the same. Whenever we meet eyes they’d chuckle as I look away shyly. They’re just… too sweet.

“Are you enjoying?”

I look up in surprise, not realizing we had stopped walking. “Yeah of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, worried I had done something wrong. “Just making sure, that’s all. Cause I wouldn’t want to be the only one enjoying our date” they smile at me sweetly. A worry forms in my stomach when my brain starts to go on hyperdrive. They aren’t… joking about this right…? My walls start building as I worry that Jordan was just put up to this for a stupid fucking prank.

Jordan takes my hand in worry, shifting to their masculine form. A tendency they did when they were worried about me. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did I say something?” I pull my hand back slowly. “You aren’t.. doing this for a dare right.. cause- cause I know I’m not that good at hiding my crushes but if this was a fucking joke I swear-” I’m suddenly silenced as they pull me in close for a hug. “I know Y/n. If it’s a joke, you swear you’ll make me miserable for the rest of my life.” Their chest rumbles as they chuckle. “It’s not a joke… the only thing I had help with was ask Cate to make me go to your dorm and ask you out blatantly.”

I step back a little, “you what?” I laugh incredulously. “Listen! I keep hearing rumors that you like me but I never saw it! Cate always told me that I was Super-”

“Blind?” I finish their sentence. “Yeah, Emma told me the same thing” I shake my head and laugh in disbelief. “So… you do like me?” They ask, as they lift my chin to look into their eyes. My breath hitches and I nod quietly. “Good.. cause.. I like you too… maybe.. even more than like.” They smile and shift back to their feminine form, something they did.. when they felt comfortable with me.

Their hand on my chin slowly travelled to my cheek and soothingly rubbed it with their thumb. The blush from earlier creeps up again and I silently plead that Jordan can’t feel my face slowly heat up. They chuckle, “I never realized how cute you looked whenever you blush…” the warmth blooms past my cheeks and into my chest as the butterflies flutter more intensely. “Y/n..?” Jordan asks softly, their eyes not even trying to hide the fact that they’re looking at my lips. “Yes..?” I reply just as softly.

“Can I.. kiss you?” I stop functioning the moment they stop talking. Unable to speak I do one slow and obvious nod to say yes. “Thank you” they smile and lean in lips barely touching, as if telling me that if I wanted to back out now, now is the time. But fuck that I’m getting that kiss.

I smile and kiss them deeply, tiptoeing a little bit to wrap my arms around their neck. The smile on our lips palpable and our emotions mixing with one another as pure happiness exudes from the both of us.

We part after a moment, smiling widely. They chuckle softly. “What’s so funny? Was my breath bad- did I hit your teeth? What is it what?!” I panicked.

“Nothing nothing!” They laugh, “Just… you’re so cute… I couldn’t stop feeling your butterflies wafting off of you ever since we started the date. And well.. every time you see me.”

“And you didn’t tell me?!” I gasped and hit them playfully, they shift to their masculine form and held my hands together in front of me. “I didn’t tell you because…how could I tell the cutest person in the world,” they lean in and kiss me gently once more and whisper, “that even their emotions are cute?”

This person will be the end of me… and I love it.

—————————————————————————

EEEE I’m so glad I got to finish this cksndjsz my brain cannot for the love of me stop thinking about Jordan. THEY’RE JUST SO CISJDJSZJ C U T E.

Anyways, feel free to give comments on how I can improve ! And ofc I hope you enjoyed ♡

Edit: holy f u c k- Im v surprised this is getting 300 notes 😭 im very glad people are enjoying !! College is just biting my ass but I’m writing other fics from other fandoms!

Take care always!

[tinyapplejuice]

HII !! I dont think I've requested yet but I LOVE ur writing and was hoping for some 8bit x fem reader headcanons OR VIRUS 8BIT X FEM READER HEADCANONS! THE CHOICE IS URS I JUST LOVE YOUR WORK SM !! ^.^

8-BIT DATING HEADCANONS

✧.*

•Guys I’m stepping into unknown territory, I got back into this game since like 2023 late Decembers and I’m pretty sure I missed so much stuff correlating to 8-bit or even any brawler’s lore since I used to play this game since like 2020 so if there are any key details I’ve missed about his character IM SO SORRY LIKE IM GENUINELY ASHAMED OF MYSELF TOO BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO DISAPPOINT THE FANS WHO ARE GENUINELY HUGE NERDS ABOUT THIS BRAWLER if you have any like canon information about it or if there’s a site that contains lore about Brawl Stars and it’s characters, in general, please tell me. I’m desperate, my sister is helping me with a piece of stone and rock and using our cavemen brains together. But enough about my silly ranting, let’s begin!

•8-bit, 8-bit, 8-bit, ha, what an interesting robot to date since it’s an arcade machine. I mean imagine if you go to an arcade and just see someone being affectionate with one of these things? Pretty weird, huh? But unlike them, 8-bit is actually alive, and in Brawl Stars anything could happen since it’s fiction! Oh, wonderful!

•It has mad anger issues, do I even have to say it aloud? (Some of their things have some sort of reference that leads to being somewhat negative or aggressive like in that animation with the CCTV animation and such; even his design has some cool details with both the skull on its thing and that big X on its back but whatever!) Sometimes I like to think it can get easily annoyed and just grab out its pistols and just shoot at the thing that angered them but if it’s you, they will just warn you pretty aggressively.

•BUT!!! Don’t worry, it goes to… therapy!! I know I was pretty surprised about this too but during your relationship, it does visit a therapist to sort out its behavioral problems which is awesome! So if you notice them resisting the urge to blow up then you know they’re slowly improving out it's anger issues!

•Do you think they have a general dislike of humans in general? I think it does, the only people they can tolerate pretty well are Brock, maybe some other brawlers like Pam, and you! I just think they're neutral about robots as they don’t irritate it as much as humans do. But still, if you ever see it glaring at people especially in the age ranges of a kid to teens, just know it despises them.

•OOHH! It’s so awkward hugging this big blocky dude because of their shape and size! They’re so blocky and it will be so funny if you have to maneuver around just so you could have the perfect hug! They’re probably going to be confused too.

•I like to think it doesn’t enjoy being touched. I don’t know but I like to correlate the hating humans headcanon to the fact that the reason why it doesn’t like to be touched is because of its players! They hate it when the person’s grubby hands are on the controllers, aggressively tapping and beating up the poor dude so I could see how it would grow to dislike just the simplest touch. Obviously, it isn’t going to push and then shoot you if your fingers accidentally touch them. No, they’re surprisingly a brawler who has both great and little patience if you get me. I feel like he’s able to let his loved ones touch them even though they’re not the greatest fans. AHHH IT COULD BE SUCH A SOFTIE TO THEIR LOVER TOO WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT! UGHH

•8-bit’s love language is quality time. I like to imagine it enjoys spending time with their lover and doing whatever they want to do even though they suck booty! The only exception is when they have to move their legs.

•Speaking about it, They’re such a slow walker that it doesn’t even want to walk anymore for most days. They literally loathe it and you have to be such a patient person if you want to do any moving activities with them.

•Heh, another robot brawler you know what that means!!! RAHHHH ITS GOING TO BE THE FIRST CLUELESS ABOUT LOVE!! I genuinely love this headcanon and would almost apply this to every robot brawler. I don’t know. I cannot imagine a robot’s first programming to love people and that includes the arcade machine we love! I feel like they would generally get it faster though due to the lovey-dovey couple it’s been exposed to during its times of being an inanimate object.

•Can you also imagine it tried to mimic them like one time but that made both you and it uncomfortable so it doesn't do it ever again. Hehe silly billy!

•8-bit does not kiss, he literally doesn’t have lips. I could just imagine a replacement with that would be hand-holding. (If you kiss him, he gets a bit of a tingly, statiky feeling).

•OMG whenever they get flustered which is like barely like their whole face turns red and then like this some sort of pop-up appears that its system is being heated and that it needs to cool down or something and you can see smoke coming out of their body like a smoking hazard.

•The majority says that 8-bit will allow you to play their super hard, brutal game but personally it’s like a maybe especially since it lost the controller and the fact it HATES its players. It may be hesitant to let you play on it. But you know what they’re honestly fine with you playing on other arcade machines. They may be very very good at it, like they know the cheat codes and the super epic strategies that pros use or they will be dogwater. (I prefer the first one but honestly, it just depends on whatever you think it’s true!)

•Relating to its controller it lost, do you think they still mope about it once in a while? Like I could imagine it one day grumbling about the fact they lost it and you know those wasps that can clearly remember someone’s face and have photogenic memory? I could see 8-bit remembering the exact person who does it and can even accurately describe them and it would make them pay for it if they ever stumble upon them again.

•Can you imagine 8-bit easily having grudges and it’s hard to let them go? That could also be another behavioral problem that they’re fixing with his therapist. Like, imagine if you had a fight with them, and for like the aftermath of the fight it was kinda cold with you. I think they’re trying to forgive others easily, especially their loved ones.

•At first in the relationship it has the most NPC dialogue for an arcade machine. I could see them struggling to say regular words that humans would use for conversation since it’s so used to saying what it’s always programmed to say when a player wins, loses, and more but as you dated them and the months passed, their vocabulary would increase and it would have been having regular and normal conversations with you even though from time to time it would resort saying back to “Player one” and such.

• He isn’t a huge talker but that one moment where they could properly express what it has been feeling for years was so refreshing for him! That was probably the longest he ever talked and it will be so funny if he speaks about his journey of his motherboard exploding or whatever mind-blowing and crazy in a nonchalant tone of voice and you have to stare at him like WHATT??!! Could you imagine them spilling out what was on their mind for years?? CAN YOU SEE IT PLEASE??

•It can make the cutest facial expressions for someone like them. They’re actually very expressive?? (My favorites from them are UwU and 0_0) Can you imagine it being silly and wonder if someone hacked them even though it can be like that on certain days.

•Wait just as its vocabulary increases do you think its personality develops too? It will be really interesting but I don’t really know how I could see it being more relaxed and would smile often but I don’t know.

•8-bit can actually use both of its hands, I think it’s called ambidextrous. I could imagine it using both of its guns but as you know, it can’t so now it uses these magic hands to do productive things.

•You know how it can make words on its screen to make facial expressions, imagine if it ever gets grumpy it just doesn’t speak to you and instead it would write it out like [this] (Imagine the bracket keys being the screen)...

•8-bit is a geek about games and would make references about it that nobody understands except the hardcore nerds, specifically and especially the old-school games. In addition, can you imagine it being a technology nerd as well?

•I could see it as someone who’s very defensive and protective. I could just imagine them shielding you in a protective stance with their gun out…

•Also it will be super funny if they shut off randomly and then like you have to insert coins in order for them to continue “life” Otherwise they will be shut down unless someone decides to play them. So imagine just you holding spare coins just in case it ever happens or just forcing multiple coins onto their slot so they can stay alive for as long as they can.

•They are a cool. Yep, a cool arcade machine!!

GUYS I DONT KNOW IF ITS LIKE SOMEWHAT REALISTIC I GENUINELY HAVE NO IFEA ABOUT 8-BIT BUT WHOEVER REQUESTED ME THAT THANK YOU SO MUCH AND I HOPE YOU DONT HATE ME BECASUD OF THIS

ALSO I LITTERALY PUT 8-BITS PRONOUNS AS HE/HIM BEFORE I REALIZED IT WASNT LIKE THAG IN ITS STUPID DESCRIPTION SO I HAD TO CHANGE ALL OF THAT INTO IT/THEY/THEM/THEIR AND IT WAS SO ANNOYING BECUASE I WAS ALREADY AT 1200+ WORDS !! (҂` ﾛ ´)︻デ═一 ANYWAYS HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

[porter-pumpkim]

just rambling

Ngl I'm kinda hoping the "mephone dies" and the "mephone is the missing shimmer" theories are cannon cause like, imagine dude straight up dying, somehow waking up, then realizing his life was even faker than he thought it was, he wasn't even actually a mephone, he was just some kid shoved in a body he wasn't supposed to be in that wasn't even supposed to last as long as it did, dude was kidnapped just to be killed off when he wasn't useful anymore,

Like, on one had there woukd be the realization he's technically free now, but at the same time one hell of a crisis cause his entire life has been a lie from a greedy business man, and I don't think he even knows what the hell a shimmer is so that's even more questions for him

I'd also like to point out with every other meeple product none of them seem to start with proper emotions, 5s, meepad, they both needed time to develop their emotions beyond what was pre programmed, they started blank or one note, while meephone4 seems to have just had them, which also kinda fits with why he's a bit irrational compared to the other bots, sense his emotions didn't come at a manageable time later in life for him, they just were there and were likely overwhelming sense logically he's only in his teens right now and was expected to act like an adult at age 1, and unlike meepad, he just can't do that.

Either mephone4 was just built different, or cobs just stopped giving his products emotion after 4 to make them easeir to control (sense we can't rule out 3gs or the computer that suitcase talked to, but we dont know if they started with emotion or developed it later)

Anyway I'm just rambling nonsense, Hella hyped for when the ending comes out and how everything ties together!

[atinyniki]

stay with me...

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee felix x f!reader

genre: angst with an angsty ending, fluff at the beginning

warnings + additional info: pt 2 of “instant ramen”!, reader is referred to as y/n, established relationships, felix is referred to as lix, and lixie, petnames, pregnancy, miscarriage, post-loss depression, crying, vomiting, death.

authors note: all i can say is sorry. i dont know why exactly i thought of this but im planning on making a pt 3. hopefully this doesnt break your heart :( ending was a bit rushed bc i didnt feel like crying anymore :( this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 2407

(pt. 1) || (pt. 3)

HUGE TW, PROCEED WITH CAUTION: miscarriage, pregnancy, blood, and the pain that goes along with it.

“lixieee im home!”

you came home with such a big smile on your face. you were a little grumpy about work, your mood swings not making things any better, and you felt a little sick. nonetheless, you were still excited to come home to your boyfriend.

“hey pretty! i’m making some brownies, just give me a bit yeah? they’ll be done in 20”

you walk over to him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and thanking him before leaving to your room to go shower. 

throwing off your clothes, you enter the shower rather quickly, hoping that it will refresh you enough. you run the vanilla shampoo through your hair, the feeling of the bubbles running down your back relaxing you. 

all of a sudden, the scent of vanilla hits your nose, an uneasy feeling washing over you. you finish your shower as fast as you can, putting on your clothes and then rushing out the bathroom. maybe you were just hungry?

“hey lix”, you said with a weak smile, sitting down at the table where he was waiting with leftovers from yesterday and his brownies. 

“hey angel, you hungry now?”

“mhm…”

he dumps the food out onto your plates, but you grab a brownie before even looking at the food. felix’s brownies could never get old. you take a bite, the warm fudge practically melting in your mouth.

you enjoyed the brownie, and felix began to pick one up, when suddenly your eyes went wide. the same terrible feeling was back, except stronger now. you tried to fight it by swallowing the part of the brownie that was already in your mouth.

the feeling didn’t leave, and you found yourself scrambling to your feet to stand up. “baby… what’s wrong?”

you couldn’t answer, afraid that the bits of your brownie would end up on him, and instead ran to the kitchen sink. felix made sure to follow behind just as fast. the second you got to the sink, you were letting go. 

felix watched as you vomited out the brownie and the rest of the food you had today, quickly grabbing your hair so it wouldn’t get in the way. his other hand ran soothing circles around your back, hoping to calm you down.

you threw up with such force that bile shot out your nose, felix now becoming even more concerned. once you’ve calmed down and washed your face, felix finally speaks up. “let’s get you to bed baby.”, he sighs lightly.

he quickly picks you up bridal style, setting you down on your bed carefully. you let out a little whine when felix left, but quickly returned with an emergency bucket. “just in case”, he said with a sweet smile.

he brought the hair dryer from the bathroom, not wanting you to get sick from the cold, and quickly blow dried your hair. he didnt work on styling it, wanting you to get rest as soon as possible.

he quickly runs to grab you a jug of warm water to place on your tummy. you loved that he was so attentive to you, especially on days he was back at home. “i love you lix. i’m sorry for what happened”

“it’s not like you could control it dummy, go to sleep now. i love you”

that morning, felix woke up to an empty bed. the bucket next to you was filled to the brim with bile, felix instantly darting to the bathroom. his heart broke seeing you on the floor, vomiting into the toilet as you shook violently.

he quickly held your hair back again, rubbing the soft part of your tummy to soothe it. “baby what’s going on? did you eat something?”

you shook your head, not trusting your own words in case vomit came out instead. you’re tired, completely worn out. it feels like all the energy in your body has just left you. 

suddenly, a wave of realization comes over you, and you begin to panic. you’re constantly vomiting. you have terrible mood swings. you didn’t get your period. everything lines up perfectly.

your breaths become labored, soon becoming large gasps for breath. “felix- i…”

he begins to become extremely worried. “what baby? what’s wrong?”

“i…”; you can’t go on. you’re exhausted. it’s the last thing you remember saying before you black out, almost falling into the toilet if felix weren’t holding you back right now. 

“shit- y/n? stay with me okay? i’m calling an ambulance.” 

felix struggled to stay calm, tears running down his face as he tried to stop his voice from quivering. “my girlfriend, she needs help. she’s been vomiting like crazy and- she’s passed out right now”, he said it so fast the dispatcher almost couldn’t understand him.

the ambulance was at your house within minutes, felix holding you in his arms again while he waited. he could still feel your breath fanning over his neck, a sense of comfort washing over him. quickly, you guys took off to the hospital.

“felix?” 

“oh god baby! you’re awake? are you feeling okay?”

your head hurt a little, and you were incredibly confused, but you decided to tell him anyways. it was probably important. “my head hurts a little bit, but that’s okay” 

he holds your hand, clutching tightly, afraid there’s actually something wrong.

the doctor opens the door, sitting on one of the chairs next to where all the machines are hooked up. “okay so, we’ve figured out why you’ve been vomiting so much.”, she pauses.

felix is practically squirming in his seat, afraid for the words about to come out of her mouth. “congratulations, you’re pregnant.”

all of a sudden, his hand lets go, instead using it to slap it over his mouth to conceal his squeals. you jerk your head towards him, afraid of his reaction until you see the tears in his eyes and his bright smile.

you smile back, turning to the doctor who hands you a paper with an article about pregnancy and the symptoms that go along with it. “thank you so much”

“of course, the release forms are at the front desk. call if you need anything. once again, congratulations you two”, she says with a smile.

once she leaves, felix couldn’t hold back, kissing your face practically everywhere. “oh my gosh! y/n!”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement. you were so happy he wasn’t upset or anything. you’ve been wanting to start a family with him for as long as you could remember, but you’re not even married yet. 

suddenly, your thoughts hit you like a boulder. “felix… what about the media. what do we tell everyone” 

he paused for a moment, he didn’t even think about that aspect of it. “i’ll call them. i’ll call management. if they say it’s not acceptable then fuck it. i’ll quit my job. don’t worry about them, please?”

you smile at felix’s dedication for you. you knew he was going to be such an amazing father.

“wait seriously?! she’s pregnant?”, changbin giggled excitedly.

“seriously. she’s pregnant!”

felix is at the dorms right now with the boys, and he couldn’t be any happier telling them about it. management was very happy for him and understanding of his situation, but he didn’t want to release it to the media just yet.

it’s nearing your third month now, your exhaustion becoming more unbearable by the second. you believed you could push through it though, waiting patiently for felix on the bed.

felix makes it home that night in an exceptionally happy mood. he smothers your face in millions of kisses, holding your hands tight and giggling into your neck. “i love you so much. i can’t wait for our little sprout”

it was difficult to keep his excitement contained around you, but he knew he didn’t have to. you are just as excited as he is.

you slice open the cake, a myriad of pink candies falling out the center. you were so excited to have your baby girl, you could already predict how well she and felix would get along.

“see?! she’s a girl. i knew it.”, seungmin said smugly.

“shut up, we get it. you were the only one that predicted she’s a girl anyways”, jisung replies, jokingly aggrivated.

“yeah, meaning i’m also the only one that was right”, he retorts with a wink.

jisung rolls his eyes, moving to you to give you a hug. it felt awkward hugging all the boys with a baby bump in the way, but it wasn’t all that big yet, so it wasn’t too bad. you continued having fun at the party, singing with the boys the entire time.

you’re so happy your girl is being born into such a good world. you’re lucky all the boys love you so much, you know they’ll all be amazing to your little sprout.

minho looked at you with an incredulous look on his face. “so you want me to make you tteokbokki, but instead of gochujang you want me to use… nutella?”

“i told you man, her pregnancy cravings are fucking crazy”, felix chimes in.

you quickly nod at minho, who instantly gets up to prepare it for you. there’s not a lot that minho wouldn’t do for you or your daughter, considering the fact that you’re best friends already. 

“so did you just call me here to cook because felix sucks at anything without a recipe?”

“for the most part yeah”, you let out a giggle. felix walks over to you, kissing you again and peppering them all over your face. a particularly loud groan leaves his lips, and minho jerks his head towards you both.

felix gets off you not too long after, but only to wrap you in a hug from behind, holding your bump up to ease the weight of her. minho visibly gagged at the sight of you two, “okay can you guys stop making out and actually talk to me now? i don’t feel like third wheeling”, he joked.

all three of you began to laugh, you were so excited to start this new chapter with felix.

fuck. what is happening? why does your heart feel so heavy? why do you feel so uneasy. maybe you’re just upset, you’re fine right? you sit on the bed, watching some edits of felix- your guilty pleasure.

all of a sudden, a sharp pain hits your gut. you groan out in pain, tears flooding your eyes. you begin to get up, trying your best to make it to the bathroom. you’re suddenly throwing up again, and you didn’t think anything of it since it was pretty normal. 

once you clean yourself up a little, you make your way back to the bed. the sharp pain hit you again, this time making you sink to the floor as you clutch your stomach. “fuck…” 

the feeling in between your thighs becomes uneasy, becoming excruciatingly painful. you feel something dripping down your thighs, taking a quick look at it. there’s a pool of blood dripping down onto the hardwood floor, when the pain comes back.

the tears leave your eyes in heavy sobs. you can’t pick yourself back up, the pain becoming unbearable. you’re too weak to make it anywhere, so you try to scream.

you attempts fail, crawling to the bed to grab your phone. you didn’t make it in time. your body gave out on you, blood pouring out from you. you didn’t want to die. you just wanted your sprout. why did this is have to happen?

“y/nnie! i’m home!”

your head jerked up in the direction of the door. you let out a guttural scream. “felix… h-help… please…”

your voice got weaker, not even being able to find the strength to talk. felix rushes to your room, and the world around him stopped. his heart shattered in his chest, immediately calling an ambulance.

“baby… no! stay with me… please. deep breaths okay? you’ll be okay.”

he listened to the dispatcher for instructions on how to help, your eyes slowly fluttering shut. you’re too weak to carry on.

you woke up in the hospital, your baby bump suddenly gone. you touched around your tummy, looking for your little sprout. you noticed felix right next to you, eyes red and incessant tears pouring down his face.

he’s trembling as he grabs your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. “if i had just gotten there sooner-“

“no felix i… im so sorry. i failed you… i failed our sprout.”, loud sobs filled the room, not being able to contain your emotions anymore. you had lost her for good. she was gone. 

“it’s… not your fault. rest now okay? you lost a lot of blood. we can talk in the morning” 

he gave you a quick kiss to your forehead, and you shut your eyes. the sleep never came.

you and felix are in bed again, just like you always were. but things were different now. everything felt empty, depressing. you felt empty. you didn’t have your sprout with you.

felix asked to go on hiatus now, wanting to be there for you in every moment. he became hyper-attentive towards you, scared that you might go down a bad path.

the miscarriage took a toll on him just as much as it did you, except you were focusing on the physical parts more. felix watched at night as you stared at your own bare breasts after a shower, producing milk for a baby that wasn’t even growing inside of you anymore. you ran your fingers along your many stretch marks, the skin on your tummy becoming flabby and soft. 

you felt ugly. felix was still there to reassure you through everything, but you didn’t know what to do. you blankly stare at your messages from time to time, getting many from your family, close friends and the boys, checking up on you frequently.

felix doesn't know what to do anymore. he doesn't know if he can live with the pain, knowing what could’ve been. it hurts you even more to see felix like this. the sunshine in him has been dulled out, the only thing left are his eyes, swirling with only pain now. 

the guiltiness overtook you most nights, felix holding you tight as you both cried again and again. you haven’t slept properly since it happened. seven fucking months.

so close, yet so far.

</3

[aswefindourwayback]

I love you, I’m sorry

Authors note: this is my most vulnerable piece of writing that I’ve ever shared since it’s taken inspiration from some terrible moments in my life. So it’s not my best piece of writing. Feedback is always appreciated.

Word count: 2071

Content warning: mentions of poor mental health, angst

you’ve never been able to keep people in your life, no matter how hard you tried. you would always change parts of you to fit other people’s wants and needs but it was still never enough. it got so bad that you were having thoughts about ending it all, thinking it’d be easier for everyone around you. they wouldn’t have to deal with your bullshit anymore and they could finally breathe again. but you instead threw yourself into your work.

you were already good at your job, but you quickly became the best. your work became your life. you stopped seeing and talking to your friends because you got so caught up in your work.

after years of working your ass off, you found yourself as a profiler for the FBI. you were now a member of the BAU. it took some getting used to and learning how to socialize but you got the hang of it. you guys were cracking case after case. you got along with all your coworkers and you guys often had fun together. you really loved all the laughs and good times you had with them, even outside of office hours. like that one time Emily, jj, and Penelope invited you out to go shopping and get dinner. it was something you were terrified of doing, getting closer to people and getting out amid socializing again, but you did it and found that it wasn’t as bad as you’d made it out to be in your head.

but there was one who you really got along with. spence. when you guys first met, you were both a bit shy and timid. but with time, you two grew incredibly close, always going to each other for anything and everything. and over time you fell for him, without meaning to. you knew it would complicate not only work but your friendship with him. your friendship with him means the world to him and you don’t know what you’d do if you lost him, so you kept your feelings to yourself. until one day, you didn’t.

it had been a normal day when rossi had called you into his office to talk about some case details. after going over the details and correcting him a few times, he asked you something:

“so, when are you gonna tell him?”

“what? tell who what?” you asked, completely lost in the conversation.

“reid. when are you gonna tell him how you feel?”

“spencer? what do i feel for him?” you said trying to play stupid. but it was rossi, he could see straight through you.

“Dont play dumb, kid.”

You slouched your shoulders in defeat, “no, i’m not gonna tell him.”

“Why not?”

“there’s a millions reasons to stay quiet”

“but there’s a million reasons to tell him too. don’t be afraid y/n.”

“easy for you to say. you’re not the one confessing your feelings”

“but i’ve done it a million times, kid. trust me. what if something good comes from this?”

“what if i ruin the one good thing in my life?”

“you won’t”

“how do you know that?”

“i just do.”

“what if it’s not the right time? like we’ve got that new case coming up and spence has been through some awful shit recently.”

“there’s never a “right time”. you just gotta do it.”

“i never intended to fall for him.”

“feelings are something we can’t control.”

“fuck. i’m gonna do it.” you say walking out of rossi’s office. the last thing you hear is rossi calling out to you “good luck, kid! not that you need the luck.”

-=+=-

you waited until the work day was over cause you didn’t want to make it very awkward in case you were rejected, which would very likely happen according to your calculations (you tend to distort your brain and imagine that the worst will happen for any situation). the odds of you being rejected were quite high so, you were just taking safety precautions. and if he still ended up rejecting you, you had it all planned. you would transfer to another branch. it’s not the best plan but you never claimed to be the brightest.

most of the team had already left for the day, so it was just you and spence standing waiting for the elevator, just talking about the paperwork you guys had worked on today. the elevator dinged, indicating it had arrived and the doors opened.

as you two stepped in, you took in a deep breathe and faced spencer.

“hey” you’d said.

“hey” he said, smiling shyly.

“so i’m gonna tell you something and i need you to let me finish before you say anything.”

“alright, i’m listening.”

“spence, i really like you, i mean really like you, so go ahead and reject me. i'm a big girl, i can take it. also you don’t have to say anything now.” you said at lightning speed, squeezing your eyes shut, afraid to look at him.

“y/n?” he asked as you felt his finger lightly lift your chin up.

“open your eyes, y/n”

you did as he said.

“i have something to tell you too.” he admitted, dropping his hand from your chin and shoving them into his pockets. your eyebrows were scrunched up a bit, hopeful of what his response would be, “i’ve never felt a connection with anyone before like this. I know that’s not surprising considering my awkwardness around people and my need to always correct people when they’re wrong and the fact that I shove myself into my job so much but i’ve dreamt of kissing you and feeling like i was on cloud 9. i started to notice when morgan kept calling me out for always watching you. and then i kept having dreams about you. not like any weird or sexual dreams or anything. just dreams where we hung out. just being near you. but i definitely want to see how this goes.”

“oh thank fuck” you said letting out an exasperated breathe.

that had made you both laugh. you felt like so much weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“so” spence has started, exaggerating the length of the word.

“so”

“do you wanna like, hang out now? we could go get a drink or something. or if you want to wait and stuff then we can do that.” he’d said, almost stumbling over his words.

“id love to get a drink, spence.” you smiled at him.

and he smiled back.

at the bar, you two mostly forgot about your drinks and basket of fries as you were so caught up in each others company. you spent the night talking and laughing. you laugh so much, you were sure you were going to have abs in the morning. you’d never felt so happy. he made you forget about all your worries. he was unbelievably amazing that it was hard for you to believe that he existed and that he liked you back.

you two stayed until the bar almost closed for the night. he walked you home and you two kept talking on the walk. once you two had reached your door, you stood in front of him, not wanting the night to end.

“thanks for the drinks. i had a great time.” you said to him

“thanks for joining me. i had a great time too. um, do you think we could keep this on the down low for now? i don’t want everyone breathing down our necks at work and stuff. and i just wanna enjoy us for a bit.”

“yeah, of course. i’ll see you at work tomorrow. goodnight, spence.” you said as you walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek, making both your cheeks turn bright red.

“goodnight, y/n”

-=+=-

the past few months have been amazing. you and spence have been doing amazing as a team, not just at work. so many nights were spent together, either in complete silence or going on stupid late night adventures aka going down to the gas station across the street from your apartment to get snacks. you were so grateful for him and you were head over heels for him. you never thought you could feel this way for someone. you guys had of course had some ups and downs, mostly due to you and your mental health but you always got through it together, and for that you were forever grateful. he was different to anyone you’d ever met. he actually wanted to learn about the things you struggle with and wanted to learn what were ways he could help you. and after a really bad episode, you helped you breathe and told you he’d stay with you no matter what battles you two would have to face, cause he knew in the end, you two would end up the winners. it was insane to think someone so amazing would be able to love the mess you are, but he somehow does.

until he started to distance himself. it started after a specific incident when you had said something that came off wrong when he’d already had a bad day. after that, you could see it in the way he would interact with you. his speech and body language had changed towards you. his messages became a lot drier, even if you were verbally talking, he’d seem so disinterested, it was disheartening. you wanted to fix things but you didn’t know how. so you decided to arrange a nice little date night for the both of you, so you could show him how much you loved him and to talk things out. you even wrote down a little letter to tell him how grateful you are for him.

when you entered the office to tell him about the plan, he was on the phone so you waited behind him, waiting for the call to end. you didn’t mean to but you eavesdropped a bit, he seemed like his old happy self when he was on the phone, and you overheard a name, “maeve”.

you decided to walk away cause the call seemed to be taking a while. you walked towards morgan’s desk, where he was sitting and talking to pen.

“hey, what’s going on with you?” morgan had asked as soon as you walked up.

“nothing much, just waiting for spence to finish his call so i can talk to him about something.”

“oh yeah, he’s been on his phone a lot lately.” morgan had said.

“really? do you know why?”

“there’s this girl named maeve that he’s been talking about nonstop. he seems really infatuated with her, it’s nice to see him this way.” pen had said.

it was at that moment that all those bad feelings came back. your heart felt as if it was being grabbed out of your chest, just to be bitten into and shredded to pieces.

“i gotta go.” was all you said before you walked away from morgan’s desk.

you walked over to your desk and grabbed your stuff before walking to rossi’s office door and telling him you were leaving early.

“you alright, kid?”

“yeah, i just forgot something.” you said as you spread the fakest smile on your face.

you walked out the office and looked back at spence, hoping he’d walk after you to check on you. but he was so caught up in his phone call that he didn’t notice you leave.

you walked out to your car trying to keep the tears at bay. you ripped up the letter you’d written for him.

was it all a lie?

did he really mean those things he said to you?

was he playing you the whole time?

or did he just change his mind?

you messed up again.

you made mistake after mistake and he finally got tired of you.

he was the best but you were the worst.

you’re wrong again, about being lovable, cause you’re not.

it’s the way life goes.

it’ll never end.

you felt like pink cherry blossom petals that were left on the ground. loved and cherished when in the trees, awed at when falling, then left discarded and forgotten on the ground once you were no longer attached to the thing that gave you life. always being stomped over and discarded. never to be seen or loved again. the way it’s always been and the way it’ll always be.

[slutdge]

i cannot express enough how enraged it makes me that abusive parents have the audacity to now come online and boohoohoo about how their kids dont talk to them anymore and claim they dont know what they did. going no contact is a last resort because you are adverse to getting any sort of help and bettering yourself. you know exactly what you did. i especially hold so much hate in my heart for that lady that went viral for saying "is going no contact a gen z trend?" how evil do you have to be to intentionally misinterpret a situation like that? you are not a victim of your children. and they go on and on about how much it hurts them, good!!! i hope its the worst pain you have ever felt!!! thats a drop in the ocean of hurt youve caused your child and im proud of them for prioritizing themselves and their wellbeing and walking away, because that is a last resort that hurts them far more than it hurts you, but you are so self centered you cant see that. this applies to siblings they in turn went no contact with as well because their sibling turned into a flying monkey for their parents. i hope it hurts and i hope you have guilt in your heart until the day you die, and that still isnt even close to justice for what you did to your child. I dont feel guilty for feeling this way anymore because they never felt guilt for abusing and terrorizing me my entire life. I wish nothing but pain and suffering on child abusers until the end of their days. they dont deserve to be coddled when all they have ever put out into the world is hate. youre upset because your kids cut you off and you dont have total control anymore and an outlet for your anger, not because you think what you did to them was wrong or youre sorry. you are disgusting and rotten to your core.