#LOVE YOU😙😙😙😙😙

[myokk]

commission for @versailles-black ✨💘

THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH !!!!

[norikuna]

(JUST MEET ME AT THE) APT! — gojo satoru minors dni. art by chitrartum on twt.

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (a) and let the show begin !

prologue. → your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. never drive, no matter how little alcohol is in you folks!!! never!!! making out, creampiè, hooking up with a stranger, ovèrstimulation, mildly rough sèx, gojo won't tell you what his job is

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. apt — rosé & bruno mars

a/n. reader lowkey a hater, i love vanilla vodka eggnog </3 i said i was gonna post on 02/12 and i kept my word, literally rushed to finished this before my clinical exams in the cardiac ward 😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope y'all stay healthy. your future surgeons are writing gojo smut on tumblr.com

mp3. don't you want me like i want you, baby? don't you need me like i need you now? sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. all you gotta do is meet me at the apartment (아파트) !

you think your friends would kill you if they knew this was how you were spending christmas eve. not at some glittering holiday party, nor tucked away in a snow-dusted cabin. but here, holed up in a dimly lit bar with an atmosphere so questionable it should come with a warning label alongside a health and safety audit.

the place had charm, if your definition of charm included scuffed floors, a jukebox stuck on 'last christmas' and a string of blinking lights that looked like they'd been thrown at the walls rather than hung. still, you'd swiped a couple of minty candy canes from a jar near the door, which felt like a win.

your phone sat resolutely off in your bag. self-preservation. no instagram, and no tacky mirror selfies from your scumbag ex with the same smirk he'd worn a month ago when you caught him cheating. with someone who had always been 'just a friend, babe!' you weren't keen to let that ruin the rest of the night, though if you were being honest, you had already let it ruin a good chunk of the month.

"another christmas vodka...sour, please," you squint at the messy chalkboard above the bar, where the christmas specials were scrawled in what would barely pass for handwriting.

the bartender gave a single, surly nod. he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, preferably somewhere free of customers nursing post-breakup bitterness like a fine wine.

and so, you found yourself staring at the tall glass now sitting in front of you, studying the rosemary sprig that swayed lazily in the translucent red liquid. a few cranberries bobbed among the ice cubes like they were on some tiny festive raft.

"woah, that one's way too strong for me."

the voice interrupts your private session of wallowing. you turn your head, slowly, to take in the culprit. he-who-hath-disturbed-the-peace. a man sitting close enough to be annoying, but not close enough to invade your personal space.

it takes you a moment to process the stranger, mostly because of the brain freeze from your ill-timed gulp.

"i mean, it's not bad," you shrug, hoping to sound neutral enough that he leaves you be. but then because you just can't leave well enough alone, you gesture at the specials board, "better than...that, at least."

you jab a finger at the chalk-scrawled abomination: vanilla & peppermint vodka eggnog.

the man frowns, a sharp but somehow charming movement that's overshadowed by the dim lights, "hey, i ordered that one."

you blink like a startled bovine, before breaking into a laugh, "my bad. i'm sure it's really fuckin' delicious."

the stranger chuckles too, a soft and low sound that seems more genuine that it has any right to be, "i hope so. otherwise, this is gonna be a long night."

the man finally shifts, casting aside the dim shadows that lay over him, into the blinking string lights. broad shoulders framed by a dark, tailored jacket that hugs him like a second skin. his hair, startlingly white, was pushed back by — wait, was that a blindfold?

you stare longer than you should have, trying to piece the odd sight together. a cosplay? a k-pop idol wannabe, hoping to get recruited for the next bts tour? perhaps, he was blind, hard of sight? you start to open your mouth, wondering how to phrase the intrusive and awkward questions, but he beats you to it.

"i can see you just fine, y'know," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

your cheeks burn at the realisation that he's caught you gawking shamelessly. so you quickly turn back to your drink, suddenly very interested in the cranberries floating in the glass.

the bartender returns, sliding the stranger's drink onto the counter with an audible clink. it was the most obnoxious cocktail that you'd ever seen. a martini glass filled with frothy, pale liquid and crowned with a cinnamon stick that jutted out like the mast of some ridiculous holiday ship.

you watch, mildly horrified, as the man picks up the glass and downs half of it in one confident gulp. he sets it down a satisfied sigh, and a smack of his glossy lips, and you wrinkle your nose involuntarily at the sight.

"i swear it's good," he says with a laugh, catching your expression. his grin is wide, playful. and you find yourself smiling back despite your sour, gloomy mood.

he has a nice smile, you note. not forced nor smug, but genuine. framed by pale pink lips that curl up in an easy, natural way. it was strange though, to look at someone without seeing their eyes.

"i'm gojo, by the way," he offers, his voice smooth and lightly amused once more, as if he'd caught you studying him again.

your gaze drops to his hands, long and slender, tracing the rim of the martini glass. something about the way they move — elegant and deliberate, hold your attention a moment too long for propriety. you quickly snap your focus back to his face, "what brings you here, gojo?"

gojo shrugs, and you can almost imagine him rolling his eyes beneath the blindfold, though you doubt his ire is directed at you, "work, i guess. or maybe i just got bored of going to work."

"they're working you hard, yeah?" you ask, trying for sympathy. employers loved squeezing their workers dry during the holidays. your own boss was proof enough of that, running the office like a sweatshop for santa's unpaid elf labour.

"something like that," gojo says with a scoff, the corners of his mouth quirking up again, "what about you? what brings you here? it's christmas eve, isn't it?"

you sigh, the weight of gauche embarrassment suddenly pressing down as the words spill out before you can stop them, "my ex-boyfriend cheated on me."

gojo's lip curls, the kind of expression that balances perfectly between pity and disgust, "that sucks," he offers. profound and wise, you have to agree as he continues, "you jus' find out or something?"

the question makes you cheeks heat, and you fiddle with the edge of your drink, "no, i've known all month." you gesture vaguely towards your purse, where your phone sat like an unsealed pandora's box, "but he posted...on instagram. and stuff. i'm still, y'know, getting over it."

gojo makes a thoughtful clicking noise with his tongue, "ah, see, i don't do social media. but that sounds rough."

you let out a weak huff, "yeah, well...now i just feel like a loser. my friends told me to go out and have fun, and here i am..." you trail off, downing the rest of your cranberry vodka in a single, decisive gulp. the sting hits your throat, sharp and sour, and you grimace at the burn.

gojo frowns slightly, leaning in just enough that you can hear how his voice softens, "i don't think you're a loser." the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, pulling your gaze back to him, "it's fair to wallow."

his words hang in the air, and you find yourself smiling, albeit thinly, "that's...really nice of you to say."

gojo hums thoughtfully, "i meant it, i promise. but i can't exactly say i've been there, never really dated anyone."

you blink, openly gaping at the man, "really? you're joking."

it was hard to wrap your head around that. even with the odd blindfold, everything about him screamed 'pounce-worthy'. the broad frame, the charming smile, the striking white hair that looked like it belonged in a kérastase commercial.

gojo laughs at your incredulous expression, "same old work and stuff," he explains with a casual shrug. then his grin fades, tone shifting just enough for you wonder why that feels as though the clouds have covered the light of the moon outside, "always got in the way."

"at least you never had to deal with a breakup," you offer, trying to find some weak, silver lining.

gojo frowns, his pale complexion now tinged with a faint red flush that even the dim bar lights couldn't disguise. was he really that much of a lightweight, or was the eggnog's amaretto content deceptively boozy?

he sighs dramatically, "a friend once left me outside a kfc in shinjuku. then he became a murderer and a cult leader. that felt like a breakup."

"huh," you murmur, staring at the man with a mixture of amusement and faint alarm, wondering if you'd seen any cult leaders on the evening news lately. no, nothing save for the occasional incorrect weather report, a friendly good-looking priest running some scam association, and news reports about an octopus that could predict the lottery, "that's - well, okay..."

you couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not, but gojo seems to shake himself free of the odd reverie. he's running his hand through his shock of white hair, and his grin has returned, slower and a touch softer, "still, your ex must've been crazy. letting go of a pretty girl like you?"

the words land with surprising weight, considering they come from a stranger in a sleazy bar, but it leaves you momentarily stunned. you can feel a blush rising to your cheeks, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip before you manage to get a grip on yourself.

"wow," you laugh, feigning composure as you sip the last remnants of your drink, "smooth."

gojo's smile is wider now, "hah, i call it like i see it," and his lips now curl upwards as he leans in, "and i'm serious. if i had someone like you..."

you laugh again, but this time it's far more unsteady. you wonder if the cranberry vodka is playing with your head, "big words for someone who's never dated. should i be impressed, gojo?"

gojo's chuckle is a deep sound that vibrates in his chest, "i know a good thing when i see it. you don' need to date to know what you want. and i think i want you."

your stomach does a little flip, and you feel all rationality being pounded out of you just from staring at his unfairly gorgeous hands rest on sturdy thighs, "you do flattery well, i'll give you that."

"oh, i don't know about that," gojo says, fiddling with the stem of his glass, "but what'dya say we get out of here? how about my place?"

you blink slowly, and you're aware that your heart (and...nether regions) have already composed an answer before your mind has, "what if you're a serial killer? you're not about to silent night, deadly night me, are you? you haven't killed someone have you?"

for a moment, the man stills but then gojo leans back, "smart girl. asking the right questions. but no, i can at least promise that i'm not a criminal."

you hesitate just for a beat, the words lingering on your tongue, before you let out a breath and shrug, "fine. where's your place?"

"azabu," gojo replies without missing a beat, his tone smooth, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

you gape once more, blinking as you try to process the information. azabu? as in tokyo's ritziest neighbourhood, where a one-bedroom apartment could cost you more than most people's yearly salary? the kind of place where the floors are made of marble, and everyone's shoes are more expensive than your entire wardrobe?

gojo, ridiculously handsome despite looking like a circus runaway, too charming for his own good, and not the type you'd expect to find in a cheap downtown dive bar. definitely not on a christmas eve, at least.

for a split second, you wonder how a man like him even ended up in a place like this. maybe it's some kind of self-imposed penance. or he likes to keep things low-key when he's pretending not to be rich? maybe he's looking to cosplay a succession character?

whatever it is, it's working. not only does gojo have a face carved from marble, now you've got a solid ticket into seeing what a neighbourhood for the top one percent really looks like beyond it's wealthy exterior. maybe, you'll bring back a souvenir.

you wonder whether there's a group of small emotions standing around inside your head, inside-out style. glaring at you as if you're incapable of making good and rational decisions.

well fuck that, you gather yourself and shrug off the small wave of nerves, and loop your purse strap around your finger, "alright," you say, "let's get out of here then."

you don't miss at how the adam apple of gojo's throat bobs for a second, before he downs the rest of his drink in one go, "let's get outta here then."

you follow him out into the cold, your breath fogging in front of you as you try to focus, but the man is tall, like ridiculously so. but when you reach the curb, he turns to face you again, a frown marring his face.

"so, i have a small confession."

i changed my mind and i find you repulsive.

i was paid by your ex to do this, and now i've done enough to get my money.

i'm a serial killer.

you don't know which possibility is worse, "huh, a confession? what is it now?"

gojo chuckles, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as though he's about to spill a dark secret into the night air, "i don't have a car."

"you've got to me kidding me. how'd you even get down here?"

gojo shrugs, a casual and almost lazy movement. and you feel your gaze lingering on his shoulders. broad, impossibly wide, the dark jacket hugging him in all the right places, like it was tailor-made to showcase just how much he filled it out.

"someone dropped me off. ages ago," like it was the most normal and rational explanation in the world.

your own laugh is short, a little disbelieving, but you pull your silver keys from your purse, "well, i guess i'll have to drive then. but what would you have done if i hadn't been here to save the day?"

gojo steps to the side, opening your own car door for you with a small flourish and exaggerated bow that makes your heart jolt again, "probably teleport back home. maybe fly, since the skies look clear."

what a weird guy. hot, but weird. he seems like the type to dress up with a fake beard and show up as gandalf at the next lord of the rings fan convention.

in the driver's seat beside him, you catch yourself staring too long. your gaze slipping over a model's jawline, the white of his hair being held up by the blindfold. even his vaguely expensive scent is disorienting, pleasant like pine and blackcurrant. but it's also hard not to be amused when he's furrowing teeth into plush pink lips out of concentration, pressing an address into your cracked gps screen.

well, merry christmas to you.

gojo's place is well...how do you say this? gorgeous doesn't quite begin to cover it. he leads you into the building with the ease of someone who knows every inch of it, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder as he swipes a key card to unlock the private elevator, "i tend to move around a bit. or stay in different places. keeps life exciting, don't you think?"

you step into the elevator alongside him, the polished mirrors reflecting the soft glow of gold accents and sleek, modern lines. his hand hovers over the control panel before he presses the button for the top floor. of course, it's the penthouse.

"you move around a lot?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, "what, like a restless billionaire or something?"

gojo smiles, leaning casually against the steel as the elevator begins its smooth ascent, "now you're exaggerating."

the elevator finally dings, and gojo steps aside, offering an exaggerated bow as he gestures for you to exit, "after you, my fair maiden."

you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of it, but there's something so endearing and charming about how he pulls it off, especially when paired with the unfair symmetry of his face.

floor to ceiling windows dominate the far wall, revealing a jaw dropping panorama of tokyo's skyline. the city stretches out in a glittering sea of lights, with the tokyo tower glowing a golden exclamation point against the velvet night sky. the interior is just as impressive, with polished wood floors that gleam in the warm light and a glass dining table that sits beneath a sculptural chandelier. that same faint scent of blackberry and pine lingers in the air, heady almost.

behind you, gojo strolls with an easy and languid grace, tossing his jacket onto an artisan leather armchair. beneath it, his sky blue dress shirt clings just right and rolled up to reveal forearms faintly dusted with pale hair. you think you've momentarily forgotten how words work, and you avert your gaze quickly. though not before catching the faint smile on his lips.

"not bad, huh?" gojo says, heading to the open kitchen as though he's unaware of the effect he's having on a rational and sensible mind such as yourself, "it's no dive bar, but i'll do."

you shake your head, bewildered. trying to process how someone you met in a dingy bar could live somewhere that looks like it belongs in architectural digest. even down to the odd, ancient looking pieces that scatter the wide living room. weird looking artifacts of some sort. maybe he's also a collector? go figure.

"not bad?" you repeat, incredulous, "gojo, this place is incredible."

the man laughs, opening a sleek fridge to grab a bottle of water, "i have good taste," he says with mock modesty, his tone teasing as long fingers twist off the cap, "and a thing for gorgeous views. though, between you and me, i'm not great with heights. ironic, i suppose. paying a fortune for a view i'd rather not get too close to."

he waves a hand vaguely towards the windows, the blindfold still firmly in place.

"so, what's the deal? did you win the lottery, or inherit a fortune. or are you some kinda secret agent who moonlights as a barfly?"

gojo lifts the bottle in mock toast, "let's just say i'm very good at what i do."

you arch a brow, crossing your arms and ignoring the warm flush creeping up your neck, "and what exactly is that?"

"oh, you know. standard stuff. international intrigue, thwarting evil creatures. i even saved a kitten from a tree the other day."

"right, because nothing screams the next member of the avengers like eggnog in a seedy bar."

gojo leans casually against the counter, "even the avengers need a holiday drink now and then. don't knock it." but then he gestures towards the sleek couch, "wait, you can make yourself comfortable, y'know. i'd hate for my guest to think i'm a terrible host."

"terrible host? no, but a mystery man —"

before you can finish, your foot catches on something hard, and you stumble forward with an undignified yelp. gojo reacts instantly, how does he move that fast, and his arm is shooting out to steady you. but glorious gravity and magnificent momentum has other plans.

both of you crash onto the couch, and you find yourself sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. gojo's laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can feel the warmth of it underneath your palms as you steady yourself, "well, that's one way to get comfortable," he murmurs, voice teasing as his large hand lingers lightly on the curve of your waist.

you prop yourself up slightly, cheeks burning, and glance back at the offending object. your brows knit together when you spot what looks suspiciously like a katana gleaming under the soft light.

"did i just trip on a — hey, what the hell is that?"

gojo interrupts, smoothly extending a long leg to nudge that suspicious object under the nearby coffee table before you can finish, "nothing important," he says breezily, the motion so quick you almost think you imagined it.

his focus shifts back to you, almost guilty, but his fingers are pressing divots into the fabric of your top, "now, where were we? hi."

you blink, caught off guard by how strange it is to feel the searing heat of someone's gaze underneath a blindfold, impossibly intent, "hi yourself," you manage.

for a moment, neither you nor the gorgeous man under you move, and the world feels strangely airless.

but your fingers twitch against the fine linen of his shirt. and before you can second-guess yourself, you reach your hand up to the edge of the silk fabric over his face and you ask, "can i take this off?"

gojo tilts his head, like it's a genuine consideration and you catch the faintest flicker of hesitation. it's fleeting, replaced by a crooked smile as he nods, "go ahead, sweetheart."

your hand rests lightly on the silk, hesitant for only a second before tracing its way to the back of his head. your fingers brush through impossibly soft strands of white hair, and his breath hitches when you find the knot tied neatly to the base of his skull.

you wonder what manner of man gojo is, letting himself be stitched undone by a stranger. but with care, you undo the knot, working deftly and clutching the fabric as you pull the blindfold away.

the blindfold slips free, and for a moment, you're certain you've forgotten how to breathe. bright, piercing blue eyes. framed by thick white lashes blink up at you. the intensity of such an unearthly gaze is softened by something more vulnerable, almost shy. nervous even.

"wow," you murmur without thinking, the word spilling out as gojo's expression shifts, an unguarded openness replacing the playful smirk that you've seen all evening.

your earlier assessment echoes in your mind: k-pop reject wannabe. the recent memory now feels like quite the injustice, a careless slight against a face that defies easy description. each detail of his face is striking, as if some divine hand had taken special care to sculpt him from the fabric of time and space itself.

gojo seems to sense your analysis, and you're sure that he's parted his lips to speak, but whatever he was about to say falters. that faint flush, pale-red like vermillion watercolour bleeding across a canvas, blooms across his cheeks. gojo's hazy gaze flickers for a second, and it sends a thrill through you. he's affected by this, by you.

it's hard to resist the slow smile that curves your lips, light and playful if only to mask the way your own heart is racing, "are you seriously shy now, gojo?"

gojo's expression shifts again almost immediately, as if that subtle invulnerability has been replaced by something sharper, almost indignant. he sits up a little straighter, the movement making you acutely aware of how the hard planes of his body feel beneath you.

"shy? no," gojo says, his voice steady but edged with some need to defend his honour, "i just...don't usually do this. that's all."

there's a sincerity in his words, an almost begrudging honesty that takes you by surprise. you tilt your head, as your murmur, "i don't either."

before you can second-guess yourself, you tilt your head down. pressing your lips to gojo's in a featherlight kiss. his taste is intoxicating, honey and sweet grapes mingling with a hint of that ridiculous vanilla drink from earlier. you pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, testing the waters.

but your breath catches when you see that the blue of his eyes has deepened, darkened. and his lips, pink-blush and slightly parted, form a quiet and stunned oh!

"cool," gojo manages, his voice rougher than you expected, and you bite back a laugh as you watch him swallow hard.

"huh, cool?" you echo, your amusement bubbling over, "that's it? that's all you've got?"

gojo's grip on your waist tightens, and his hands are now splayed over your spine. anchoring you to him, as his mouth curves into something sly, though his flushed cheeks betray his composure, "compliments to the chef?"

you shift slightly, pressing more of your weight firmly into his lap. though not yet close enough to situate yourself over his groin, delighting in the way gojo's blush spreads down his neck, staining his skin a shade reminiscent of ripe berries swirling in cream.

you can feel gojo's attention as much as you can see it, how his own gaze lingers, deliberate and unhurried. taking you like a masterpiece that deserves more than a cursory glance. the hand that had been steady on your back shifts, his fingers threading through your hair. he watches as the strands slip and fall beneath his touch.

"thought you said you wanted me, gojo," you tease, though you're certain your voice is betraying the way your pulse is doing its best impression of the macarena in your jugular, "are y'gonna do something or not?"

gojo's gaze snaps back to you, a flicker of something far more intense passing through those impossibly blue eyes. full of hunger, need even. the hand in your hair slides away, only to settle at your jaw. it's warm and steady, his thumb brushing slightly over the plush of your bottom lip.

"i do want you," gojo says, his voice low and steady and maddeningly genuine, "want you to kiss me again. and again. as many times as you want until i forget my own name."

"gojo —"

"satoru," he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly, stripped of any previous swagger. it's unsteady and raw, affected in a way that excites you. sends a dark heat curling low between your thighs, "you can call me that."

"satoru," you repeat softly, letting the syllables fall from your lips, unfurling in the most hazy way.

something within the man shifts. his hand tightens on your waist, dragging you closer in a way that punches the air from your lungs. right over -

oh. the thick, curve of his erection straining against slacks that probably cost more than your monthly salary. it's deliberate, almost desparate at how the invisible thread snapped inside him. unravelled the careful composure he's been clinging to until now.

"go on," gojo murmurs, his voice dark with need, "kiss me again, please."

you lean closer, eyes flickering to his lips, and your pulse roaring in your ears, "who would i be to deny you any wish, satoru?" the words come out more reverent that you'd expected, as if your entire world has been tilted off its axis.

and then you kiss him, hard. desparate. as if his lips are your birthright, a homeland to claim. and gojo's kissing you back, carrying a sweetness that seems both foreign and familiar. in an instant, the weight of another man, a dreary haze in your past, vanishes. gojo is suddenly everything you didn't know you needed, vibrant and electrifying.

"let me know if it's too much," gojo breathes against your lips, his voice shaky as if he's trying to tether himself to the earth. but your kiss deepens, frantic and unrestrained. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends sparks down your spine, and you suddenly realise you quite like the taste of vanilla when it's dripping from his open kisses.

you pull away, for every human needs air. but the sight before you has you clenching your thighs desperately around the bulge where you sit atop. gojo's gaze is heavy, full of that desparate longing that makes your chest ache. his lips are swollen, a soft cherry hue from your kisses. and strands of white hair fall over his blue eyes.

"look what you've done to me, fuck. miss you already," gojo murmurs, and before you can respond, he surges forward, hands pressing against your face with the intensity of a storm. one hand reaches to find the nape of your neck, letting you surrender to the heat of this touch.

you crave more, so much more from gojo, who's taking you in like you're his last breath, his final indulgance. it's as if he's found a new devotion in you, ready to worship you at the alter of your false godhood. but before you can part your mouth to tell him exactly what you and where, gojo's hands are already sneaking under your top, brushing against the trembling skin of your torso.

his teeth are biting down on your lip, leaving you dizzy. and gasping, and so damp in your panties as the fabric of your top is peeled away, and you're left shivering, fighting against the cold of the december air. you find yourself pressing harder into the warmth of his chest, letting the swell of your chest press flat against him.

"shoulda' turned the heat on before we came in," gojo murmurs, breathless as his lips hover a mere centimetre away from yours, "got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart. i'll keep you warm."

"didn't t-think i'd spend christmas eve like this," you gasp, your head lolling to the side as gojo presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft arc of your neck, sensitive even to the cool air.

"no?" gojo's reply is breathy, almost frantic as if he's fumbling in the heat of the moment and has little grasp over the words tumbling out of his mouth, "neither did i. but this? b-better than any fuckin' mission they could've sent me on."

you cock your head, feeling the heat of his clothed cock underneath your thighs, "m-mission, huh? what are you talking about - mmph!" but the rest of the question never escapes your lips for it's swallowed up by another one of gojo's candied kisses.

his rough hands work deftly, finding the clasp of your bra with ease. a pretty crimson thing, almost sheer as it caught the light. and in the centre, a tiny satin bow sat like the final touch on a perfectly wrapped gift. you had only worn it half-heartedly earlier in the morning, some forced christmas cheer for your dreary day ahead.

the look on gojo's face was anything but composed, staring at your cupped tits like you'd knocked the air out of him and his chest rose and fall as though he were remembering how to breathe. in a single fluid motion, your bra is unhooked. the faint metallic click barely audible over the pounding in your chest and he's tossing it aside with a casual flick, his focus entirely on you.

you find yourself mesmerised by his eyes, those swirling pools of blue that seem to have stolen fragments of the sky itself, clouds brushed into cerulean depths with strokes of syrupy smoothness. they're breathtaking, but the thought shatters as gojo's canines graze the flesh of your breasts, a sharp and teasing nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. leaves you rocking sharply against his erection, making him throw his head back, ragged.

the playful string blooms into a flush of heat, and gojo's at it again, his mouth working to leave faint red marks in its wake. you squeal, half in surprise and half in helpless laughter (and entirely in a lusty haze) but gojo only pulls back enough to murmur, "what? can't help myself."

but then he peers at you abruptly, his lips parted as he catches his breath, "wait. do you wanna —?" and gojo tilts his snowy hair towards the shadowy doorway that leads out of the living room, the implication clear even through his panting.

you nod, breathless, "yeah, jus' help me up."

without hesitation, a strong arm slides around your waist, and before you know it, you're being swept into a semi-bridal carry, and your head is resting against the fabric of his dress shirt. not a bad feeling, one you could get used to.

at the doorway, gojo lets out a low 'shit!', nudging the door open with his foot. the faint sound of clattering follows as he kicks something out of the way. you glance down from your entirely too comfortable vantage point, spotting a smattering of cheap tinsel, all glittering in metallic silver and gold, tangled with round baubles that glisten faintly under the dim light.

some have little smears of glue, and uneven glitter patches, as if crafted by unsteady hands, but with earnest effort.

"you big on christmas or something?" you tease, delighting in how the tips of his ears light up like nose of a famous reindeer.

gojo freezes for a moment, almost sheepish as he clears a path, clearly trying to look as macho as possible as he gingerly pushes aside a string of green lights, "made those for my students," he mutters, "thought they'd like them in the classroom tomorrow."

your laugh grows louder, and gojo's brows furrow, his tone growing defensive, "it's a nice surprise for the classroom!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you insist, leaning up to press a gentle, soothing kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, "it's sweet. i think it's really nice, actually. wait, you're a teacher?"

gojo's mouth quirks up in a faint smile, "something like that," he says cryptically, finally clearing a decent and hazard-free path into a sleek, and clean bedroom. it's all modern space, all clean lines in shades of cream and white, and navy.

gojo sets you down gently, and the plush fabric cradles you as your back lands on fresh linen. and for a quiet, tender moment, you're both caught in the stillness. gojo kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on each of your thighs as if he's anchoring himself there.

his gaze is steady, content, maybe even adoring in a way that feels too intimate for someone who you barely know. there's a warmth in his expression, like he's savouring the sight of you, searching for something — and he's found exactly what he's hoped for.

almost without thinking, you lift a hand, cupping the sides of his face. his skin is warm beneath your palm, soft with the faintest hint of pale stubble that seems to fade into his skin. the moment your hands makes contact, gojo leans into your touch instinctively, his white lashes fluttering closed.

"hey, 'toru," you murmur softly, "y'still with me?"

gojo's eyes snap open at the sound of that, sharp and bright, as if the nickname itself has sparked a challenge in him. a low and almost frustrated sound escapes from the back of his throat, and he presses a feather-light kiss to the inside of your knee.

you don't miss at how his teeth sink into his bottom lip again, worrying and working the plush flesh like he's trying to steady himself. spreading your weeping thighs aside, as his gaze is fixed on something. intense, unwavering. the sheer focus of it making heat creep up your neck.

at how he must be staring hungrily at damp, sheer red fabric that clings to the outline of your cunt. at how it must shimmer almost translucently now, the sticky slick of your arousal enhancing the gloss, making your panties glisten under the light.

you're feeling an unfamiliar kind of shy under the weight of his attention, at how he must see how the fabric clings closely to your puffy, swollen folds — the delicate weave exposing the shape of your taut pussy, practically weeping for his touch.

you needn't have asked, for gojo was already diving into deliver.

he's gliding his index finger over your dripping pussy, letting the tangy syrup sink onto his fingers, leaning in to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to your clothed cunt, "she seems desperate for me, don'tcha think, heh?"

the sound of the fabric ripping is sharp and wet, a squelching and almost fleshy tone, a sound that's both soft and sharp to the blood rushing between your ears. a strained tear of your beautiful panties, leaving cool air to gently leave a kiss of its own upon your cunt.

you gape at him, a bit too stunned to find coherent words, "hey, what the f-fuck! those were like super expensive!"

gojo rolls his eyes, the kind of look that has a bit too much attitude for someone who's practically begging on his knees for a taste of you, "don't get all huffy on me, sweetheart. 'm gonna buy you more, is tha' alright?"

"i'll r-remember that, satoru," you murmur, giving a sharp tug at his white strands, "you gon' have to give me your number now."

gojo shudders, the muscles in his back rippling underneath his tight shirt, "was already gonna," and he's back to pressing soft, kitten licks to your now exposed folds, small circles over your throbbing clit.

you buck your canting hips closer to the heat of his mouth, to where the pink tip of his teasing tongue peeks out of a pretty mouth, "satoru, c'mon. can't you just, fuck—"

you sharply cry out as he presses his mouth forward, a sudden surge of heat jolting through you. burying himself deep, his nose brushing against the sweet, syrup that coats your pussy, and the rhythmic, wet movements of his tongue send shivers through your entire being.

"mhm, jus' as sweet as you look, baby," gojo gasps, swirling and flicking his tongue, teasing you with every deliberate patter of the muscle near your winking entrance. so messy, slick and you're not sure where he ends and you begin as it all glides together carnally.

gojo seems languidly tipsy, just from munching through the gloss of your cunt, far more intoxicated from your taste than any cheap christmas liquor. he alternates between pushing his tongue past the ring of your tight walls, and then wrapping his lips around the searing pulse of your clit, leaving your hips shaking and dragging over his mouth, smearing yourself over his chin.

you're fisting delicate white locks with fierce urgency, and he hisses and then chuckles into your pussy, "tch! ease up there for me, yeah? jus' move your hips like you were doin' before," and you comply, angling yourself better so he can flatten his tongue against your folds, jaw grinding deeper into you "hah, yeah, just like that."

"taking good care of you though, aren't i? wait, say it. say that 'm making you feel good," and he's bullying a long finger into your gummy walls, clingy and sopping, "say 'm making you feel better than a-anyone ever has," and you just mewl as your arousal must surely be dripping down his forearms, staining the cuffed sleeve of his shirt as he takes your sweet juices down his throat.

there's stars beginning to twinkle at the edge of your vision, and you know you must be close, for your heart is practically dancing a heavy beat against your ribcage, and you suddenly push his mouth away, watching as a clear strand of spit or your slick forms a taut bridge between his mouth and your folds.

"w-wait, satoru, s-stop."

gojo's head lifts, eyes blinking as if coming out of a faze. but then, like a switch, something sharp flickers behind his gaze and concern floods in. his thin brows furrow slightly, glossy lips parting as he reaches out, as if to steady your hips, "you okay, sweetheart? what's wrong?"

your heart stutters, pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. you try to steady your breathing, but the tremour in your fingertips betray you as they gently slide through your hair, the silky strands tangling around your hand.

"nothin' wrong, 'toru. but i was gonna cum," and gojo's face, still flushed and soft with arousal, splits into a shy, amused grin.

"hah, i know. that's what i wanted," he's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your aching cunt, but you shake your head again.

"feels unfair, wanna see you too. wan' you to cum in me,"

you watch, almost in awe, as a low and guttural sound escapes gojo satoru, raw and unfiltered. gojo runs his tongue over his lips, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger.

"you sure?" and his voice is hoarse, unsure despite his roaming gaze. you nod, your hands digging into his shoulder, tugging at the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, desparate to feel the warmth of his skin underneath.

his shaky laugh of disbelief only makes you more aroused, whining for him to hurry up, and before you know it, he's standing up, towering over your boneless form on the sheets.

"how could i deny you anything?" he murmurs, echoing your earlier words. gojo's hands reach for the hem, the fabric shifting as he pulls it over his head, revealing a milky expanse of toned skin, smooth and taut over a set of abs that should easily land him on a gq list.

his waist is slender, defined in all the right places, and the soft taper of muscles make your breath catch. but the soft white trail of hair that reaches under his waistband makes your cunt clench.

"y'seem happy with the view, don'tcha?" gojo's voice is teasing, the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, but you can hear the impatience threading his tone now too. he's not as in control as he lets on, his hands now making quick work of his belt, leaving your mouth dry when he finally pushes his black boxers down.

you should have known that his cock would be as pretty and unfairly gorgeous as the rest of him. he's circling the strawberry-red tip, glowering and throbbing, right over your gathered slick, coating it and smacking the mushroom head in a thwack! over your poor clit, leaving you jolting as he laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly once more.

"jus' look at me, yeah?" his drawl is slow, lazy and so ruined. at the first inch of his throbbing cock that slips through your walls, he looks utterly undone. a mess of sharp edges softened by something far more primal and raw.

gojo's head tips back, exposing the elegant line of his neck as the moonlight cascades over you, "hey, sweetheart, 's not too much, yeah?"

hazy blue eyes bore into you, and for a brief moment, in the time it takes for the lightning to strike the earth, you swear that his eyes glow. almost radiant and jewel-like, with cerulean fractals shimmering as if they're emitting life of their own. perhaps its simply the electrifying stretch of inches that's rendering you to hallucinate, whining as your nails find purchase in milky skin and rippling shoulders.

"i-it's big, 'toru," you pant, feeling him almost shudder at the clipped name again, as he grips the base of his cock to bully the final inch in, sighing in contentment as he finally bottoms out, with a wet pop!

gojo looks feral like this, heaving a breath through his mouth as though the air is being taken from him from every second he spends stretching you out on his fat shaft, "hah, 'm glad, i'm so glad i met you tonight, sweetheart. fuck, fuck, y'feel i-incredible."

he's pushing your thighs further back, running his hands over the plush skin, leaving bruising red prints that won't disappear tomorrow as you moan, wanton into his open mouth, letting gojo run his lips down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

you're practically now folded in half under the bulk of his weight, feeling stars collide in absolutely astrophysical ways, impaled further on the long and thick length of his cock, "in so deep, s-satoru."

seems that gojo is a man of little mercy, for he seems only all the more invigorated by your squeals, drawing his torso back to watch the hypnotic smack of skin on skin, of your slick and creamy froth creating fresh rings over his pistoning cock.

he's entirely out of control, as you feel your body go limp from the pleasure shooting through every nerve and pore.

depraved.

you don't realise you might have let that slip out loud, so dizzy in your cockdrunk haze because gojo's suddenly ramming himself roughly in you, as though he was desperate to have his cock kiss your cervix, to feel for every divot and nook of your cunt's walls.

"d-depraved, hah. people call me, fuck, p-people call me a lotta things, sweetheart," and gojo's so good with it, letting your pussy have not even one moment to take reprieve, having you feel each vein and bulge of his cock, "but depraved is n-new."

the hand that was dancing over your thighs flies to your swollen, aching clit. practically glistening for his attention, and his attention you did receive, "right, t-there! 'toru, mmph!" you're trying to splay your legs wider, giving his quick hand more room to swirl tight circles where you needed him most.

your double-vision gaze lingers on the ripple of his muscles, the way his arms flex and shift as he seems intent on angling you just right for him to drill his cock over and over, at some freakish and feverish pace, "y'so good, gojo," you purr, and your nails curl against his arms, pressing just enough to leave tiny crescents in his skin, the faint dampness of his exertion clinging to him, "s-so strong!"

something shifts. the glow is back, electric blue flooding his eyes like crackling storm clouds. it's almost unnerving, this unearthly brightness, as if he's some ancient god wrapped up in human skin, and you've just stumbled into a divine revelation.

gojo stills for the briefest moment, the thick head of his cock snagging on your puffy folds as he draws himself almost entirely out. the absence of motion makes you whine, an airy and impatient sound escaping your throat. that hesitation feels like a tease, like a string that's been pulled so taut, before he finally dives forward, capturing your mouth in a messy, heated kiss. sloppy in its disregard.

"s-so strong, huh?" gojo's voice is rough, shaky, as though he's trying to centre himself but your tight pussy holds him in hypnotic sway, "y-you think so? think i'm the strongest?" his lips brush yours as he speaks, and there's something almost boyish and charming in the way that he seems to be fishing for a compliment, despite the low heat in his voice.

you pull back from his wet, spit-stringed lips. just enough to wrap your hands around his neck and push him closer, deeper into you as he gutturally groans, "if i s-say yes, are y'gonna keep showing off?"

gojo's laugh is short, breathless, "y-yeah, wanna see?"

he makes quick work of pushing himself back into you, pumping himself so far in that your slick must be painting and sopping the white hairs at the base of his cock almost translucent, "o-oh my god, 'toru, fuck, oh my god!" the stretch has your head spinning, as if the skies are parting above you, and you're melodramatically left to see the light of divinity as gojo bucks his hips harshly into you. as if he's too far gone, needs to prove himself to you with a good fuck.

"you h-have to say it," gojo stutters, his words tumbling out so quickly, like rough gravel, "say it, fuck, c'mon. say i'm — say i'm the s-strongest. you have to, hnghh, god. please, jus' agree, okay?" his voice is cracking, that cocky veneer entirely shattered under the weight of his rambling desperation as he practically rummages through your sopping insides, "y-you feel it right, i mean, you can feel me — i mean."

a high whine escapes your throat as his pace becomes almost olympian, and you wonder faintly how you haven't managed to sprain a muscle or break a bone yet, how he hasn't managed to shatter something with the sheer pace and force of how gojo satoru fucks, "hah, 'toru. i'm —"

"close? g-god, i hope so. 's what i want. nothing, like n-nothing feels better than this right?" his words are falling out of him in a messy, pussydrunk rush, his eyes flickering between your face and down to where your pussy lips are bulged around his shaft, "so good, right? the b-best thing you've ever —"

you truthfully don't even hear the rest of his words, blood absolutely roaring and rearing in your ears, your ribcage as you feel the tight coil snap, letting out short, slurred snaps of his name when you cum. as he doesn't quite let up on smacking his hips right against your ass, "s-satoru, 's getting s-sensitive, oh, fuck. fuck!"

he's suddenly whining, with pleading and erratic blue eyes chasing after you, sloppily pushing down so he can gasp and pant into your open mouth, before capturing you in a heart-stopping kiss as he finally gets milked dry by your pulsing and fluttering walls. in awe of how creamy white is practically leaking out of you, dripping a stringy trail over the flesh of your thighs.

you're agape at how utterly fucked he looks right now, though you're certain you do not look much better as fat tears prick at your eyes, streaming past your ears from the overstimulation, "s-still fillin' me up, 'toru. god, do ya always cum this much?"

at first, you don't even get a response from gojo who just sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, almost as if he's trying not to cry out, but then he's back to circling your clit with a rough hand, "makin' me sound like some kinda whore, s-sweetheart. 'n and i told you. don't do this m-much."

and now he's slowing down, pleasurably painful bucks of his hips keeping glossy, white seed in you. ensuring that it coats your entire entrance, "an' it's not my fault that she," and here, he gives your clit a small smack! grinning like a madman, "n-not my fault that she's so, hah, addictive."

each tight circle of his hand on your clit sends you hurtling into yet another orgasm, one that has you begging gojo for mercy, repreive, for more. an orgasm that has him whispering the sweetest nothings into your ear, "d-don't worry, gotcha like this. gonna let you rest n-now, jus' gotta relax for me."

by the time he's slipping his still somehow hard cock out of your creamed cunt, you can feel exhaustions heavy and caring hands caress you, rendering your body limp and boneless. your eyes heavy and hazy, but you can feel a soft ghost of gojo's kiss over the shell of your ear, "h-hope y'still here in the morning, sweetheart. don't leave, yeah?"

the morning sunlight filters through the blinds, and despite the ache in your limbs that cricks your bones, you drag yourself out of bed. christmas day, after all. you've thrown on gojo's dress shirt from last night, snug enough to flutter around your hips, but oversized enough around the shoulders to let you drown in it.

it's cozy though, and even the chilly air feels refreshing against the warmth clinging to you. gojo is still sound asleep, and you had smiled at how he took little puffs of air as he was passed flat out in bed. but you always like to be up early on christmas, and there's something about the holiday that makes you feel like you need to earn the right to nap later.

you wander around the bedroom for a bit, stretching your legs as your muscle protest in earnest. eventually, you decide to make your way to that kitchen. breakfast, right.

it seems like a good idea, especially considering the last thing in your stomach was a questionably sour vodka. so you pull open the fridge, expecting something befitting of this apartment. perhaps a slab of wagyu beef, a tin of caviar, a thick block of pistachio-cream dubai chocolate. you'd even settle for sushi.

instead, you're left staring back at a stack of candy canes, some strawberry yoghurt, a carton of milk and some fast food wrappers. despite your protesting stomach, a deep amusement washes over you. it doesn't surprise you that gojo would have a fridge stocked with food you'd find at a child's birthday party and a greasy diner.

still, breakfast is in order and because you can't help it, you pull out a candy cane and start unwrapping it. you're just about take a bite when you hear the unmistakable pad of footsteps. you turn, face to face with someone who would clearly not be out of place on a vogue covershoot.

gojo hasn't tossed on a shirt, and the sunlight filters over his chiselled physique before your sight is stolen by the loose sheet wrapped around his waist. delicious. you try to snap your gaze back to his face, but it's hard to not track your gaze down his torso, like a cat eyeing a particularly irresistible sunbeam.

"good morning to you too," gojo says, a grin curling his lips, "what are you doing?" his voice is still thick with interrupted sleep, laced with a morning rasp that forces you to ground yourself and stop falling prey to the god, eros and his machinations.

"breakfast, 'm starving."

"don't bother," gojo says, shaking his head, "we can go somewhere nice for breakfast. like real, actual food. don't think you want half-eaten yoghurt."

you nod enthusiastically, mind turning back to the peeling seal of the strawberry yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it. but then, something else catches your mind's attention. a little curiosity piques, one that you cannot help but ask him.

"wait," you begin, snapping your teeth around the saccharine mint of the candy cane, "y'know what's crazy. like, i swear your eyes glowed last night. not even in a silly compliment way, but like electricity. i thought i was like, losing it.'

you expect gojo to brush it off with a wink, or maybe laugh it off like you're just teasing him. but instead, the man's face shifts, that cocky smile faltering for the briefest moment. it's gone so fast that you think you almost imagined it. but why does he look...almost guilty?

before you can process that, you realised you've leaned yourself over the counter, and in your absent-mindedness, your elbow presses a button on the answering machine. a small beep, and suddenly, a voice blares through the room,

"hey, gojo-sensei!" comes a high-pitched, distinctly teenage voice, an excited boy who sounds a little crackly over the speaker, "so, we found this grade one curse yesterday...and uh, we totally got rid of it. we were gon' call you, but you didn't pick up. but i almost got my arm torn off. wait, no! that sounds dramatic, i got shoko to look at it anyway. so what we're all wondering right is that we don't have to hand in any homework now right? as like reparations?"

the voice crackles off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. you stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the answering machine like it's about to burst into flames or start singing christmas carols.

gojo, meanwhile, has the most awkward look on his face, clearly caught between embarrassment...and what? panic, amusement?

"satoru, what the fuck?"

he looks at you for a moment, but instead of speaking, he lets out a long and exasperated sigh before pulling out one of the counter chairs, "you're gonna want to sit down for this one, sweetheart."

[theghooligan]

aemond: i love that my uncle tried to murder me in my own bed. he’s soooooooo afraid of me—

daemon, living it up in harrenhall:

[moraent-keys]

The Runway Walk 🎶

[demigods-posts]

i think it's hilarious that no matter how important the situation is. annabeth will stop everything to greet an animal. stuck in the underworld and trying to save your friend's mom's soul while simultaneously trying to prevent a war between the gods? pet the three-headed guard dog. trapped in the deepest pit of hell and on the brink of death while trying to prevent the rise of a goddess determined to harm everyone and everything you care about? cuddle the half-dead cat. trying to help your boyfriend get his second college recommendation letter so the two of you can begin living the safe and happy life you had always wanted together? adopt and share custody of a hellhound with a goddess.

[weirdglassthing]

ouaw doodle dump!!

[whaleshake]

Nobody does crack ships better than me baby 😎

[chirpsythismorning]

El being *12 hours earlier* than the Cali timeline when she arrives at Nina. Will saying ‘it’s been 9 hrs’ in the scene following his monologue in the van.

We know that at some point their timelines merged when they arrived to save her…

But we don’t know when exactly those alignments took place when they were still apart… which just makes you wonder…

[pngblog]

WE LOVE YOU PNGBLOG🗣🗣🗣

[sparxyv]

Milena Student ID 💜🦅

[EDIT: Milena does NOT look like this anymore! See my newer posts for her revamped design 😙]

I decided to finally issue a proper introduction to Milena Chase for you guys so she doesn't remain a face without a story any longer 😤

Thank you for the template @kiwiplaetzchen !! 🫶

Brace yourself for a big infodump - here is Milena's backstory etc etc 🫠

Family

Milena Jacqueline Chase was born in 1874 to a French muggle, Henri Marie Chase, and a Japanese witch, Miyuki Hoshino.

Milena is the oldest of seven siblings.

The Chase Family™ is extremely rich, like, buttloads of money rich. Coming from a long line of vintners, they founded one of the leading brands of the best quality wines in Europe, as well as owned a luxury hotel in central Paris.

Milena's grandparents on her mother's side lived in Feldcroft, and still do. They often watched over the Sallow twins after their parents death when Solomon was busy. (Milena does not know her grandparents. ����)

Miyuki - Milena's mother - was a Slytherin in Hogwarts, and was friends with Solomon Sallow.

Life Before Hogwarts

Growing up, Milena and her siblings resided in their family's hotel in Paris, France. Since their parents were too busy with business and galas, they were raised by the housekeepers and servants that worked at the hotel.

Milena was homeschooled, undergoing typical muggle education with many tutors over the years. She gained a passion for learning early on, intensively studying practically anything that piqued her interest! (my little Matilda LOL)

Milena did NOT go to Beauxbatons, yet showed signs of magic very early on. The only reason she was aware of magic and wizardkind because of her mother's house elf, Teeley. (we love Teeley 🫶)

She had so much free time on her hands that she'd mastered and studied so many different things, making her a true jack of all trades! Some of these things include - Chess, fencing, horseback riding, painting, embroidery, baking, PLUS she's fluent in German and Russian (in addition to English and French).

Relationships

I'm planning on going more in depth with Milena's relationships in a series of separate posts so I'm just going to list her closest friends 💜

Sebastian Sallow

Anne Sallow

Ominis Gaunt

Imelda Reyes

Athol 'Mousey' McGregor

Samantha Dale

Amit Thakkar

Natsai Onai

Garreth Weasley

Poppy Sweeting

Sacharissa Tugwood

Richard Jackdaw

Personality

MBTI - ENTJ-A

Alignment - Neutral Good

I really think of Milena's personality as close to the in-game MC as possible, but I do tend to wander from that sometimes.. 😗😗

Milena always strives to help out people when faced with trouble, but never actively seeks out problems to solve - they just always seem to find her. Nevertheless, she always takes on difficult situations and rises to the challenge.

It helps a lot that she's very self-assured, something that came out of spending most of her childhood alone and taking care of herself AND others. That being noted, she's a natural born leader. Milena is assertive and logical and can easily adjust and adapt to many different situations - which makes her the perfect person to deal with a certain Slytherin boy who's emotions control him and not the other way around.. 👀👀

Milena is an ambivert. While she enjoys socializing, she's also comfortable being alone. She doesn't exactly prefer one over the other though. Socializing comes easy to her, and she has a secure attachment style when it comes to her relationships, never really feeling insecure about them or getting jealous easily. Milena tends to be more mature, and she never internalizes things when people are rude - but because she's so calm and mellow, people are usually either drawn to her or intimidated by her.

As a Ravenclaw, Milena is naturally curious! She's constantly on the hunt to learn new things, which is why she enjoys exploring outside of Hogwarts so much, taking in everything she can about the hamlets and just the Highlands in general. Her curiousity helps her find wonder in even the smallest of things. She's very open-minded, yet nearly always at least slightly skeptical when it comes to new things. She can be very opinionated, but is always open to other perspectives.

Milena is not one to be overly expressive with her emotions (but to be clear - she doesn't hide them either 😗), yet she does have a side of her that naturally comes out only when she feels comfortable. With friends like Sebastian especially, she feels like she can let loose and be more playful as well as a bit snarky/sarcastic.

Additional Fun Facts!

I've already mentioned this before - but Milena's absolute favorite things in the world are BIRDS. Birds of all kinds. She knows everything about every species, and I mean everything. And somehow, birds naturally flock to her like she's some type of woodland princess.

Milena's hair is NOT naturally curly/wavy, nor is it naturally auburn! Prior to Hogwarts, she used a charm to change her hair color, but it seemed to have some extra effects on her hair texture too..

Milena doesn't often speak French after arriving at Hogwarts, but since it's her native language, she finds it much easier to express herself in French even though she speaks near-perfect English. She also enjoys sneaking in French phrases to occasionally mess with Sebastian since he has no idea what she's saying 🥰🥰

Her love language is gift-giving, but when it comes to receiving it would be acts of service and quality time.

Is VERY passionate about potion-making.

Becomes an animagus in the summer before sixth-year, her animagus form being a giant golden eagle!

Already mentioned but she's quite fearless, except for when it comes to mooncalves. (She's more creeped out by them than scared of them, though.)

More of a dog person - Raphael is the exception 💜

Seeker for Ravenclaw in her sixth-year!

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙸 𝚜𝚙𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎… ~

❤️👻💜👻🧡👻❤️👻💜👻🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟷𝟹: 𝙲𝙰𝚁 𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙴˚*•✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟷,𝟾𝟺𝟻

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑 🐢❤️

𝙻𝚎𝚛’𝚜: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑, 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝…𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚜 👁️👄👁️…

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚍𝚗𝚍𝚑𝚜𝚓𝚓𝚜˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Are we there yet?” Mikey whined loudly. 

“Uh…no?” His immediate older brother said, sighing impatiently. 

“…Are we there yet now?” Mikey whined louder. 

“No, Mike.” Donnie huffed through his palm as he rested his cheek on his hand, effortlessly playing his Nintendo Switch as he started to drown out his younger brother’s consistent complaining and restlessness. 

Which…you would think he got used to by now. 

The orange cladded turtle let out a short grunt loudly and dramatically, dragging his hands down his face, “Are we there yet now—?”

“Mikey, I swear to God if you ask that question one more damn time I will not hesitate to open the car door and throw you into ongoing traffic.” Raph growled lowly at the youngest. 

“Boys…be nice to each other, please…” Splinter exclaimed from the front seat as he drove. 

“But Dad! Mikey’s being annoying!” The tallest turtle moaned and groaned as he sunk in the middle seat.

“When is he not?” Donatello mumbled under his breath. 

“Boys…” The rat said warningly. 

“…Sorry, Dad…” The teenager’s grumbled collectively as they glared at one another. 

The rodent father sighed, plugging his phone into the car unit as he stopped on a red light. “…Why don’t we listen to some Podcasts on the radio?” He offered, trying to find something that his boys would enjoy that didn’t involve ripping each of their tails off.

“Yohou listen to podcasts?” The purple banded teenager exclaimed curiously as he took off his headphones. 

“Of course!” Splinter announced proudly, “I’ve been listening to this one that Spy-itify recommended me…it’s really good and well thought out!”

“It’s…It’s…'Spotify', Dad…” The hazelnut eyed teen corrected. 

“That’s what I said; 'Spy-itify'.” The father said simply, causing Raph to facepalm and stuff his face right back into his phone.

“What’s the podcast about?” Michelangelo asked as he leaned his head on the closed window as Splinter started to drive again once more.  

“It’s about this man talking about nature…it’s extremely interesting; I think you three will enjoy it.” The charcoal eyed rat explained. 

“Huh…sounds cool enough.” Donnie snickered, “What’s the guy’s name? Like, the one who mainly talks in the podcast and stuff.”

“Zach Green.” The rat said. 

“He sounds like a drug dealer…” Raphael mumbled under his breath, earning some small snickers from his younger brother’s as their Dad started to play the podcast in the vehicle. 

A guy, most likely 'Zach Green', started singing as there was a ukulele playing in the background…

…And he sang…

…And sang…

…And. SANG.

And the three teenager’s wouldn’t have minded if the dude sounded…y'know, good! 

But he didn’t sound good. 

At all. 

“Grass is green~! The green is the grass~! The grass is the green and the green itself is greeeen~!” The speaker’s sung as the three teenagers collectively sighed as the Podcast continued to play amongst them. 

“…How about we play 'I spy' instead of listening to Shaggy get high?” Mikey suggested as his Dad hummed along to the tune…

Poor soul probably knew this song from heart…

“Anything but this.” Donnie agreed. 

“Best idea I’ve heard all day.” The second oldest murmured, crossing his arms as he looked at the youngest expectantly, “Well? You gonna say 'I spy' or what?”

“Let a guy think for a moment!” Mikey shrieked, “Okay, okay, okay…I spy with my little eye—”

“—More like pink eye.” The turtle with glasses giggled under his breath, trying to cover it as a cough as he saw his younger brother side-eyeing him. “Y'know, Dee…we could really go.” The orange banded teenager glared.

“Bet. Catch me outside. 3:30 on the dot.” The purple cladded mutant threatened. 

“Bet.” The youngest repeated. 

Donatello raised an unamused brow, “I already said 'bet' you phrase snatcher!” 

“You don’t own the word 'bet', you four-eyed freak!”

“God— 'BET' YOURSELVES!” Raphael snapped, taking a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “I swear to literally anything and everything holy I am completely envying the fact that Leo doesn’t have to suffer in this freaking hell-hole with me.”

The second oldest leaned forward and tapped his Dad’s shoulder, “Speaking of which…how come Leo got to study with April while I—”

“We.” Donnie corrected swiftly. 

“—I had to stay with these two excuses for mutants, Dad?” Raphael continued, frowning deeper as his Dad became unresponsive and became completely entranced by the radio, “Dad? Dad? Dad? Daddy? Father? Dad— aaaaand you have your 'I’m locked in to this music' face…gotchu...” The tallest turtle huffed as he sat back down in the middle seat.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted.” The youngest huffed, “I spy something…grey/gray.”

“Grey/Gray? Grey/Gray as in ashy? Ashy as in you?” Donnie smirked, his smirk turning to a smug grin as the orange banded teen glared back at him with a mix of disdain and pure disgust.  

“Donnie, I swear—”

“Is it the car seat?” Raph muttered, dying in complete humiliation about the fact that this was his onlysource of entertainment. 

Michelangelo shook his head, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the seat, “Nope. Try again.” 

“Is it…Dad’s fur?” The turtle with glasses guessed.

“Nooooooope!” The smallest mutant dragged out, sticking his tongue out at the second youngest causing Raph to just sigh, slumping in the chair further.

This car ride was going to be his 13 Reasons Why…

“Okay…seriously, though. Raph-Taff, what’s up?” Mikey asked carefully, looking over his older brother’s stiff and utterly overall unhappy demeanor. 

The second oldest just grunted, glancing away and his frown drooping as he locked eyes with his immediate younger brother, “You can tell us anything.” Donnie assured.

“Well…not everything. Almost everything. Semi-everything.” The genius clarified, “Buuuut you get the point…”

“No, no Ihi really really dohon’t...” The red banded teen grimaced. 

“What Egghead Humpty Dumpty is trying to say is that you can tell us what’s bothering you. You haven’t been your usual…let’s just say 'Sarcastic Sappy Self'.” The hazel eyed teen confirmed, biting back a chuckle as he saw his purple themed brother gasp in offense. 

“I just needa get out of here…” Raphael emphasized, rubbing his temples like he’s seen centuries worth of knowledge, “School was rough. School is annoying. Kids are annoying. Y'all are annoying— no offense.”

“None taken.” The two youngest said in sync.

“And I just need to distress…” Said the older turtle, going on his phone only to be met with a completely pitch black screen, “And my phone is dead. Yip dee doo da fuckin' day…” He cursed. 

Mikey rubbed his chin in thought, leaning on the inside door hand rest, “I have an idea for that, actually. Just trust me.”

“'I have an idea' and 'just trust me'…two words I never want to hear come out of your mouth ever again.” Donatello insisted almost immediatelty. 

“Shut up.” The smallest mutant exclaimed to his immediate older brother, inhaling and exhaling loudly before continuing, “Okay…so I spy with my little eye—“

“Seriously?” The elder mutant deadpanned. 

“Trust me, I said!!!” The younger shouted once more to try and get his point across, “I spy something…black.” 

“…Black?” The second youngest asked, tilting his head. 

“Black.” Mikey confirmed.

“Ohooo…black.” Donatello snapped his fingers, nodding as he relaxed in his seat. 

“Black!” Michelangelo beamed as Raphael looked around in confusion, wondering if his younger brother’s were going to elaborate on this whole 'black' nonsense or if they were just going to communicate via gibberish. 

The red banded teen scratched his head in confusion, “…What is happening…?”

The youngest gave his red cladded older brother a knowing look, causing the red cladded mutant in question to just simply sigh longly, “Right riiiight…trust. I got it…”

“Uhhh…” Raphael hummed, looking around the car for something…well, black; as his little brother’s so veeeeery clearly stated. 

The chocolate eyed teen raised an uncertain eye ridge, pointing at his own black sweatshirt that he was wearing. 

The purple and orange duo nodded, “See? Black!” Donnie grinned, poking his older brother’s sides and causing his older brother in question to shriek loudly and try to cover his middles, wiggling his way over more to Michelangelo. 

Whiiiiiich…was a first. 

“Yeah! Black!” The smallest mutant smirked cheeringly, prodding the other side of the black sweatshirt wearing boy, “You got it?”

“Ihihi gohohot ihihat I-Ihi gahat ihat!!” Raph said immiediatley, kicking his legs on the car floor as he pushed on the other two’s shoulder’s. “Ehhhhh…I don’t think you do…” The young genius teased lightly. 

“Dohon’t a-act smahart with me yohou l-lihittle shIHIT NO!! Mihikey nonononohoh!” He said as he saw Mikey wiggling his fingers near his neck, causing him to try and hide his face in Donnie’s shoulder, swatting the youngest away. 

“D'aww~! Hey, big bro! Need a hug~?” The scientist said innocently, wrapping the taller in a hug as the shortest of the three skittered and scratched the red banded mutant’s shell lightly; almost barelytouching it. 

The red banded mutant in question wheezed loudly, banging his fists on the car seat whilst his legs stomped up and down, “Wohohoah! Mr. Deflating Balloon Man— yohou okay?” Mikey teased, making sure to trace the patterns on his elder brother’s shell in a very veeeery mean manner. 

“Are you boys alright back there?” Splinter asked, getting out of his trance as the podcast soon and finally ended. 

“We’re fine!” Donnie beamed, wiggling his fingers into the crooks of the chocolate eyed teen’s neck right beside him, “Right, Raph?”

Raph squealed loudly with laughter, not answering.

Well…not answering in word form, perhaps.

The Father rolled his eyes fondly at his son's, looking away from the rearview mirror and focusing back on the road. 

“See!? He agrees.” The youngest beamed, “We’re perfectly fine and dandy, Dadio.”

“'Fine and dandy?'” Donnie repeated in amusement, causing the orange banded teen to almost laugh as loudly as Raph currently was.

Key word: Almost. 

“Fine and dandy.” Michelangelo confirmed, kneading his hot-headed brother’s hips and sides as the taller leaped like a drunk frog, “STAHAHOP!! HIC LEHEHET HIC HIC GOHOHOH!!!” 

“People are gonna think we’re beating you up or something by the way you’re squirming, bud.” The purple banded turtle joked, letting go of the taller teenager as the smaller teenager spidered his fingers all over his tummy.

“MIHIHIHIKEY!!!” The older wailed, pushing the other’s hands away as they slowly but surely stopped. 

The two youngest’s giggled, fist bumping each other for successfully turning Raph’s frown upside down. 

Splinter drove into the O’Neil’s driveway as Leo walked out of the front door to the apartment, waving his goodbyes to April as he got into the car. 

The eldest sat in the front seat, buckling up as their Dad drove to their home.

The blue banded teenager let out a small snort, looking towards the back to see his immediate younger brother’s face the exact same shade as his own bandana, “Jeeheez..whahat dihid I miss?” 

“I daha— hic don’t wanna tahalk ahabohout it…” Raph grumbled, his beet red blush deepening on his face as Donnie and Mikey snickered slightly, giving each other one last fist bump of victory. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[myokk]

💘

[a-clown-with-wings]

RAAAA

DID IT

YIPPEE

LUV HIJINKS 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉💐💐💐💐🎉🎉🗣️🗣️🗣️

SCREAMING CRYING TURNING INTO A CEILING FAN THAAAANK YOOOUU

[luckycharms1701]

Lucky I write down potential asks in my notes and literally just scribbled this today so the fact hur open now is a wild coincidence and also ily /p have a great night !!! Drink fluids !!

The set up premise might be.. different? so ignore if inspiration doesn't tickle ur scrote but I am a person who eats spicy food on a daily basis and if it's painful enough it can look like a damn sexual experience(panting, sweating, flushed face, gr/moaning(in pain), whines, milk spills, the works). I can see bay Mikey doing some kind of prank or dare without knowing what would stir within until suddenly ur being dragged off to his bedroom trading one heat for another-

I'd hoped this was just about blurbish length and that I make sense ;-; (I am so nervous about sending request asks in I am ill)

(-gornack but anon cuz if i sound nonsensical I don't want the embarrassment of having my account attached)

^ how i felt reading this ask

there is nothing to be embarrassed about here!!

sorry for the fade to black but hope you enjoy anyway!

It takes exactly three wings for you to realize that you’ve made a mistake. You pause when the heat hits your tongue, and that is another mistake. You swallow without tasting anything and look at Mikey’s expectant face with a shaky smile. “No problem!” You give him a thumbs up, hoping he’ll ignore the increasing redness you can feel in your face.

When Mikey came to you, begging to recreate those videos he was obsessed with where people eat progressively spicier food, you knew this would happen. You knew. But one look into those tearful puppy dog eyes and you folded faster than wet cardboard. Now you (and your relatively low spice tolerance) find yourself wishing that you weren’t head over heels for him.

“Yes!” Mikey cheers with his hands in the air, and all the pain you are about to endure is immediately worth it. Damn him. You look back down at the remainder of the wing in your hand and both dread and determination run through your veins. Well, mama didn’t raise no quitter. You bring the little bomb to your mouth and eat the rest of it, trying and failing to keep the sauce off your lips. Shit.

You nibble on some bread to help with the heat, saving the milk for later when you’re truly suffering. Your fingers tap along to the beat of the music Mikey put on as you look for the next spicy little enemy. Instead of offering you the next saucy wing, Mikey is staring. At your lips, specifically. You touch them hesitantly. They feel a little inflamed but dry. “Did I miss some sauce or something?” Mikey shakes his head with an unusually (even for him) loud “No! You’re fine.” You shrug and reach for the wing he offers you.

Sweat forms on your brow before the heat hits, and you brace yourself just in time. A breathy “oh” leaves your parted lips as the heat rolls through your mouth like thunder. You give in and reach for the milk as the heat crests, gulping a little too quickly and spilling some. When the teasing you expect from your best friend doesn’t manifest, you try to contain your panting and look up to find him once again staring at your mouth. “Okay, I know what’s up with me, but what’s up with you?” You reach up and swipe at the line of milk dribbling down your chin with your thumb, and Mikey visibly swallows.

“N-nothing, angel. Just wondering if you’re still up for this. You look… heated.” You groan loudly at what you assume is a very bad pun, holding out your hand for the next torture device. The heat in your mouth is now at an alarmingly high steady burn, but you are trying to ignore that in favor of getting through this ordeal.

“Hit me, Michelangelo.” He mutters something under his breath that you can’t hear over the music, and you study him as he hands you the next wing. He is twitchy, eyes dark as he watches your fingers wrap around the meat. Wondering why Mikey is acting so weird is a good distraction from the pain in your mouth, so you continue to observe him as you raise the fifth wing to your mouth.

It seems almost like Mikey is the one on the spot, you muse as you chew, with the way he can’t sit still. He’s looking everywhere except at you now, fingers tapping agitatedly on the can of Orange Crush in between his hands on the table. Then the heat hits you like a brick wall, and there is no room in your head for anything except the stinging pain. Tears fill your eyes as you whimper.

Mikey’s chair scraping across the floor startles you as you chug some milk, and you spill some again. Your whimper turns into a groan as more milk dribbles down your chin. How embarrassing. The milk pools in your hand as you try in vain to keep it from getting everywhere.

“Okay, that’s it!”

Before you can process what’s happening beyond the fire raging in your mouth, Mikey rounds the table and picks you up. You stutter his name, hands flailing, beyond bewildered. He ignores you and beelines for his room, squeezing you firmly against his plastron.The door closes with an ominous snick, and you brace yourself, still panting from the heat of the wings. The tension leaves you though, as Mikey tosses you on the bed and shows you exactly why he was acting so weird. Oh. Ohhhhh. OH.

~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic @writinandcrying @xnorthstar3x @morenovix218 @donniesgirlie @gornackeaterofworlds

[thatwasntverycashmoneyofme]

𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁

❥𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍 : 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽’𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋.

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒. }

he’s not really surprised that she said it, cuz you say it all the time, calling him a "dumbass/hoe ass nigga" or telling him "nigga shut the fuck up." and aizawa teaching black students (mina and deku) and having a few black coworkers (mirko, rock lock and orca) he hears it all the time himself.

but he’s downright flabbergasted when and how she says it right to his face at that; after you told her to go get her father to come here and yk how kids be, adding extra words nobody told them to say. so your kid stands in front of him with a mischievous smile on her face and glint in her dark brown eyes as she says "mommy said to tell you ‘nigga bring your light bright ass down to the kitchen fo’ you don’t get no damn dinner’ so are you coming daddy?”

and he pauses for a moment having your black mother mannerisms come out of him. “d/n? whatchu just say to me?” she pales a bit “no daddy! that’s what mommy said.” he calls for you yelling your name. "aye y/n cmere!" you shout a "what!" from your place in the kitchen and he repeats himself. the sound of your slippers hitting the tile as you approach your shared bedroom, the anger in your steps ever so evident, belly protruding cause of your second child as you grumble loudly all the way to the door.

"nigga what? i told d/n to come get’chu for a reason na' my damn feet hurt ‘n all I wanted t’ do was cook." you look at him with an attitude hand resting on your wide hip as you leaned on the doorway. "whatchu want shota?" you take in the situation, your husband sitting on the bed a displeased expression on his face and your baby girl got tears welling up in her big brown eyes as she fiddle with her fingers.

"why my baby bout t’ cry?" you walk further into the room standing beside your daughter and in front of aizawa with your arms folded, he rubs on your belly looking up at your frustrated eyes. "’m sorry mama." he kissed your belly. "making you walk all the way back here but what did you tell her to tell me?" you suck your teeth when he kisses your belly again 'ain’t this just what i said earlier??'

sighing out your frustration you continued. "i told her to tell you ‘bring your light bright ass down fore you don’t eat dinner.’ got me walking all up ‘n down this damn house when you know how fat yo’ damn babies are." he rubs you again "’m sorry.. again it’s just your daughter cursing me out." you snicker before he looks at you with dead eyes.

"oh you was forreal? what did she say?" shota and you both look at your five year old her tears still threatening to fall. "tell your mama what you said." she whimpers while repeating what she told her father earlier, it’s a moment or two of silence before you burst out laughing. "fuck i gotta pee ima pee on myself."

you waddled to the bathroom giggling as shota rolled his eyes this is not the right outcome you came out the bathroom wiping the excess water on the cami as tears filled your ducts "’m sorry baby it’s just that shit was too funny." you sat on the bed next to him as you picked up d/n placing her on shota’s lap. "you’re supposed to tell her that she shouldn’t be saying those words at her young age."

you pat his face leaning forward to kiss your daughter on both her chubby cheeks fixing around her bonnet. "those aren’t even the extra bad ones.." you caress her cheek with your thumb. "you know not to say those words to your teachers and the grownups outside the house right? unless they need to hear it.." shota nudges your shoulder and you exclaimed playfully. "what sho i don’t think it’s that serious i think it’s quite hilarious in fact."

he shakes his head from side to side kissing the top of your daughters’ cap "just don’t get used to saying words like that ya’ hear me d/n." she nods her head and y’all stay there for a minute or two loving up on her before you you spoke interrupting the silence. "so baby girl.. say another curse word." "y/n!" you cackle at shota’s face getting ready to get up.

"i’m just kidding.. alright let’s go i wasn’t slavin’ over that hot ass stove for nothin." your daughter jumped off shota’s lap running towards the kitchen. aizawa gets up grabbing you by your hand, pulling you towards him minding your belly, your arms wrap around his shoulders stroking the hairs on the back of his neck as he slaps your ass then grabs it. "she gets it from you ya’ know. you need to stop cursing."

you hum pulling him down kissing him tenderly before pulling away, dragging your hands from his shoulders to pat his chest as you look deeply into his eyes. "i ain’t gotta do a fuck thing.. pretty ass nigga." you peck his lips before waddling away.

you turn your head, sticking your tongue and middle finger out at him before crossing the doorway, your husband shook his head know something like that was coming his way as soon as he said those words. 'these girls are finna be the death of me i hope this next girl isn’t so troublesome.'

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

[wastemanjohn]

today is my birthday and I've been spending it trying out new makeup looks, drinking PSLs, buying used books and rare CDs (the charity shops were GIVING) and mooching around town listening to lana del rey. it's been exactly what i needed and made me wonder why i don't take days to do my favourite things every now and then just for the hell of it. anyway. i am getting really fucking old fml 🥲