#dick pls XD
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dramatisperscnae · 1 year ago
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What Does Your Blood Taste Like?
melted dark chocolate
your blood tastes like melted dark chocolate. prominent flavors: mildly sweet, with a refined amount of bitterness.
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"I've been told I'm sweet since I was a kid, this doesn't surprise me."
Stolen from: @arobinwithoutbatman Tagging: you?
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haveihitanerve · 2 months ago
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(Carolers getting attacked by vampires) "Somebody really doesn't like carolers" "Damian... only say things like that around me... and try to get to a point where you only think them." -Damian Wayne and his tired Father, in that order.
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countlessrealities · 1 year ago
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"I-I'm fucking watching you, Morty."
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"W-Wha...Why? I-I didn't do anything, Rick! I-I don't even know what you're talking about. I-If someone has messed up your shit, w-well, it wasn't me! M-Maybe you did it. S-Since you were drunk off your ass last night."
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"W-What the fuck...? T-That's not what this is about! K-Keep up, little shit." Cue to an eyeroll. "I-I'm talking about all the stealing tha-that's been happening. People stealing. N-No, shit, that's not right...S-Stealing of people!"
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"S-Stealing of...What the hell, Rick? A-Are you having a bad trip or-or something? Y-You're making no sense!"
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"Oh, f-for fuck's sake, Morty! F-Fine, I'll spell it out in simple terms, s-so that even your small slow brain can get it. I-I'm waiting for you to steal your boyfriend's girlfriend too."
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"A-Are you fucking serious?! W-Why would I...Y-You know what, Rick? W-Whatever. Watch me as much as you want, n-not gonna happen!"
{ @advnterccs (Morty) & @shctupmeg - mentioned }
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celestie0 · 6 months ago
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gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]
title. around the clock
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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
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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]
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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
➸ masterlist
taglist:
@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe
@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat
@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru
@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi
@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy
@haikomaiko @tbzzluvr @myahfig4 @arabelluhhh4200 @bloopsstuff
@nat-the-gayass-down-bad-mf @badbclub @blackunecorn @geniejunn @n0tviv
@verystrawberryhottub @iheartshopping @peonysfordayz @dreamsxmerci @aishies-stuff
@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh
@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru
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sovereignofdeceit · 2 years ago
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“I've got a idea. We need to get help.” // from Thor
𝑖𝑡'𝑠 ᵗʰᵉ 𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. starter prompts || OPEN
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"Oh, you've an idea. Forgive me if I remain skeptical of our chances."
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worldly-diversity · 2 years ago
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@thirium-blue ○ 𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕘𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟 ○
          ⤷  『  ❛ i hate the way that i don’t hate you. ❜  』
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"That's a lotta emotion from a thing that doesn't have the capacity for emotion." Comes the almost instant reply. Sure, ol' tin can 2.0 is his 'assigned partner' and whatnot, and the rules by which you're supposed to play around androids has changed (not to mention this one can and will kick his ass) but that doesn't mean Gavin's changed one whit since the entire revolution and whatnot.
Which means he's going to be a dick about this.
Besides, what is this bullshit, a rom-com? Get the fuck outta here. Gavin tolerated Nines, who looked entirely too much like that prick Connor for comfort, and in turn Nines generally didn't pin his arm behind his back on autopilot whenever Gavin shoved him. Fair deal, right? And he still doesn't get any fucking coffee.
"Cut the bullshit, tin can, we've got work to do."
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dramatisperscnae · 8 days ago
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@arobinwithoutbatman
Don't mind Tim casually walking into Dick's penthouse without knocking with his nose in a tablet. "Okay so operation public execution is in full swing. Found all kinds of nasty in what he thought were well protected devices and files so I've got a few programs set to steadily start leaking that. Plus planted a few rumours in the right social circles for California and New York. Currently digging through the rest of life now to find more to ruin him with because frankly, this is a mild skin flaying at best and I'd rather his reputation was in pieces. I've also got Bart on the case moving his furniture one inch in a random direction in the middle of the night and then moving it back a couple days later and also stealing his left socks just so he starts questioning his sanity and looks worse to his peers and the general public. Also also, I'm hungry, can I have breakfast?" He slurps from the energy drink can in his other hand before finally looking up. "Mornin' Punzie."
He'd contacted Tim just about immediately after Chase Ryder's interview had gone viral. Out of all the people he knows, Dick cannot think of anyone better suited to absolutely destroying someone's life than Tim Drake. After the most recent attack, he'd messaged Tim again to put the mission into overdrive. With one single interview Ryder had set events in motion to reduce Max to a housebound agoraphobe; Dick is going to ensure whatever life the man had will be in pieces within the year, any chances of a future destroyed.
Scorched earth are the precise words he used when he set Tim in motion.
Now he's in the kitchen, working on breakfast while Max at least tries to take it easy on the sofa. Things are still a little rocky between them after her confrontation a day or so ago, but they're getting better - at least, Dick hopes they are - and he's not quite so worried that she'll somehow change her mind and back out of this.
So, naturally, this is exactly the moment Tim decides to just stroll into the penthouse without word or warning, rattling off his progress on destroying Ryder's life. Dick's head snaps up at the sound of the door only for his eyes to roll the second he hears his little brother's voice. So far the plan seems to be going well; the addition of Bart causing chaos is something Dick wouldn't have considered but is somehow not at all surprising with Tim, and has Dick covering a snicker just imagining Ryder's frustration.
Good. Let the man suffer.
He's already rounding the corner to go look over Tim's shoulder at the tablet when the offhanded greeting to Max has his eyes narrowing. One hand lifts to flick Tim's ear sharply. "Don't call her that." Sure her name in his phone is Rapunzel, but that doesn't mean anyone else gets to use that name for her. That's Dick's nickname, thank you. "Her name is Max. Max," he flashes her an apologetic grin, "This is my little brother, Tim. The photographer. Who is usually a little more polite about coming over unannounced," he adds pointedly, heading back into the kitchen. "Table's open, I'll make you some bacon."
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dramatisperscnae · 1 year ago
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"Hey, before I met Bruce I'd never even tasted crab before," Dick laughed. "There at first every meal was an event to be looked forward to." Especially once Bruce had pulled himself away from his constant investigations and actually joined him at table, but there was no reason to go mentioning that. Roy probably had gripes of his own about Ollie's behavior as a guardian when they were younger.
Roy's sudden request, along with the waggling eyebrows, got a flat - though amused - look out of Dick. Seriously? Feed him? As if Roy couldn't spare his own fork or put the remote down long enough to do it himself. Dick was tempted to just stick an entire mushroom into Roy's open mouth, see how he handled that response to his joking…it wouldn't choke him, but it'd probably catch him by surprise.
Well, theoretically it wouldn't choke him. Not if Dick chose one of the smaller ones. Which was exactly what he did, taking the smallest mushroom available and shoving it into Roy's mouth, blue eyes glinting with mischief. "Sure, here you go."
"I'm sure. I remember only hearing high praises about Alfred's cooking from you. Every meal sounded like an event to be looked forward to." Roy said and looked down at the plate he was passing over, a funny idea popping in his head. Hey, if it was going to be too much, Dick wouldn't cooperate.
"Feed me one? Hands are busy." He dared testing the line, if only by tugging it a little, waving the remote in his hand and showing his emptying plate on the other before opening his mouth and wiggling his brows a little to add to the ridiculousness of the situation.
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ashrayus · 6 months ago
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PLSSSS MORE FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS OF JASON TODDDD!
DUDEE!!!! really happy u asked but also omg this got long agaiN who would have thought (!) i added summaries this time tho :)
here is part one of my fic recs XD
andd heres the new ones!! pls give them some love if u read them :D
Dick and Jason:
how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill by sunlitlemonade
There were blood drops dripping down his fingers to the ground. The puddle was big enough for it to have spread around more than half the tub. His breaths shuddered, they were shallow and waning. But he was breathing and Dick’s world centered around that.
starting strong with Angst go read all of sun’s fics i always die and get revived <333 pls mind the tags on this one
cast on/cast off by hellsreluctantheir
“This is surprisingly non-destructive for Jason,” Dick comments, lightly. In the parking lot, Jason pulls a grenade out of one of his pockets, yanks the pin, and tosses it through the roller door and out of sight, before tearing out of the parking lot in chase of the truck. “Well, for a minute there,” Dick amends. He takes a step back towards the alley the batmobile is parked in, giving Bruce a quick glance. “We following? “No,” Bruce says, as the grenade goes off. “He’s cleared the warehouse. We can get into the office.” Dick sighs again. But Jason knows he can call in if he needs help.
time loop!!! read most of this writer's fics and fell in love with them all,, go read fr
bloodstained by hellsreluctantheir
“I know where the clinic is, asshole,” Jason said. The wad of gauze he was using to keep pressure kept slipping against his shoulder. The knife had caught the space between two panels, split to allow movement. Lucky shot. “Ok, let me make sure you get there without passing out from blood loss,” Dick said, a deliberate evenness to his tone, like he was doing his best to accomodate someone who was being completely unreasonable. Shithead. “I’m not going to pass out,” Jason said, ignoring the fact that he was actually feeling pretty unsteady on his feet. He caught himself with his good shoulder on the entry to the bathroom, took a deep breath. “What would Daddy Bats think if he knew you were here, trying to help me?” “I assume something like, ‘Wow, Dick, you’re such a good brother, trying so hard to make sure Jason is ok even when he’s being a complete idiot about it,’” Dick sniped.
heres another one from them. jasons scars and dick. andd another one next
brothers in arms by hellsreluctantheir
It wasn’t like none of them went undercover. Jason practically lived there. And he’d punch anyone who tried to make it a sob story for him, to cluck over the times he’d been alone in a pit of vipers, act like it was some tragedy. But given half a minute to think about it, Dick somewhere completely cut off from everyone but Bruce, no allies on hand, surrounded by enemies. Angry as he was at the lie, there was something about that he just fucking hated. or Thinking your brother is dead and then finding out he's been alive the whole time really has a way of making you rethink the relationship.
Shelter by Ptelea
Two safe houses, two nights dealing with the aftermath of fear toxin, multiple conversations, several meals. Written for Sholio's September 2020 Comfort Fest for a prompt from Musesfool. Warning-wise, there's nothing graphic here but there are definitely references to past canon trauma for both the characters.
the way they are written here <33
Rotten Fruits by couldyoublameme
“I’m fine,” Dick assured gently, sitting up slightly. “Just a bad night, is all.” It’s a familiar phrase he has used so often. Whenever the addiction crawls back into his mind, a parasite he can never truly get rid of. The family knows what it means. Knows what the ‘bad’ is. Knows what to do. “Oh,” Jason says. “Why?”
absolutely murdered me. pls do mind the tags
You Can Do Better Than That by AlexaAffect
All Jason could hear was his own ragged breathing. He desperately gasped for air, each breath more exhausting than the last and his lungs and throat burned with the effort. In. And, he needed a second longer with every breath he took, out. His arms had been suspended for the last… 15? minutes? Jason had quit keeping track of the time, he’d been too preoccupied trying to hold himself upright, trying to ease his position, switch it up, anything to prolong the guaranteed death. “Red Hood?” That was Dick’s voice. Huh. So they had found him fast enough. Or alternatively; Dick finds a kidnapped Jason shortly before he asphyxiates.
this fic is just oddly comforting to me idk. very precious
Equivalent Exchange by Lysical
Apparently favors don't expire on death. --"What do you want, Dick?" "For you to be happy, Jay." Dick leaned over and pinched his cheek. Jason reached up and swiped at him, scowling. "And world peace."
ADORABLE and fun
Just for Now by Lysical
Jason was back in Gotham and the timing couldn't be worse for him to need assistance on a case. He didn't want to see any of the Bats and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Nightwing was the worst option for Oracle to pick to help him out.
To Reconcile by CasualDanger
“Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?”
he ain't heavy, he's my brother by someplacewarm
Dick's been putting off meeting with Jason for a while now, but when a distress call comes through, he has no choice but to answer. Or the one where Dick and Jason talk, fight, get high and cuddle. In that order.
making gold out of it by vmkhoney
Dick talks himself back down on the bathroom floor, clinical and detached. (For someone whose primary skill is manipulating his body, it’s not very often that he feels connected to it.) - Or, five years after Blockbuster, Dick begins teetering on the ledge of processing what Catalina did to him.
a wonderful dick grayson fic, and jason is there being a good brother. mind the tags
What Hurts You by blueyeti
Dick comes to Jason's aid when he's injured in a fight, or at least he thinks he has.
jason has no scars!! and thats also sad
at me, too, someone is looking by bacondoughnut
Dick Grayson knows he's got problems when the Red Hood's busted leg somehow becomes his concern. aka; How Dick Grayson finds out Jason Todd is alive. A story about healing.
a rather long one for my standards XD (very short attention span) but this made me sit down and read. very fun jason
Bruce and Jason:
Saltwater and Desperation by bacondoughnut
Jason's not sure how he even manages to get himself out of the harbor. He's just glad Bruce is there when he does. Not that he'll ever, ever admit as much out loud.
same writer, love this jason (and bruce) so much
Insomnolence by navree
It's not like he slept much as a kid anyway; this is just a return to the status quo. He's not overly tired, and even if he's been sleeping less than his already limited amount throughout April, that's still not any of her business. Bad memories are already bad enough even before they spend the next few years in the aftermath becoming nightmares.
navree being The bruce and jason writer for me all of their fics are so o(- (
Ash Into The Wind by navree
This is his dad in there, the first man he ever called Dad, at any rate, and even after everything, booze and jail and Bruce and death and then death again, there's never going to be a part of Jason that isn't gutted that he's dead. One night, a wraith in a red helmet slips onto the grounds of Blackgate Penitentiary to steal one specific thing.
another one from them
Trapped by lurkinglurkerwholurks
BatFam Week 2018, Day Two. Prompt: Trapped Yes, the prompt is "trapped" and it's a Jason fic. I'm so, so sorry. (Not really, though.) Please see tags for potential triggers.
binge read this writers fics recently they write them so nice
Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies
Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance.
Jason and Batfam:
Names and Neapolitan by Muddell
“Goddamnnit Robin,” Hood is there, pulling him into his arms. Robin sees that helmet, he sees the green eyes, the dark hair, he sees open, gray, Gotham sky, and hears tires squealing, and then he sees stone. He sees the cave. Bruce is there. Alfred is there. Dick is there. And Hood is there. Robin rolls in and out of consciousness. He reaches out, snatches the smell of copper and the touch of leather, and he holds Hood’s hand and he does not let go. He’s allowed to say it now. “Jason,” he says. “Don’t leave.” Or, following Dick telling Tim about his older brother, to Tim actually knowing him.
read a couple fics from this writer all so good!!!
Six Ways to Sunday by Muddell
Jason catches Duke hiding a headache and says, is anyone going to deal with that?
same writer!! really love their jason
Settle Down and Sleep by OberonBronze
A series of vignettes about seeking comfort. Damian tries his hand at being a comfort animal; Tim shows up at Jason’s place for an impromptu sleepover; Jason bonds with his older brother after a damaging fear toxin trip; Dick and Bruce have a long-overdue conversation.
really liked jason and dick in this :)
Tuck Me In by OberonBronze
Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.
think how great it is to fall asleep (and how terrible it is to wake up) by mikkal
Jason was fifteen, barely five foot, and underweight for his age when he died. When he came back to his body, suddenly he was too tall, too scarred, too much, too different. And he just... never got used to it. (Or: 5 times a Bat noticed/discovered his body dysphoria post resurrection)
Stranger Danger by alchemistsarego, whumpinaheartbeat (alchemistsarego)
There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness. Everything simply flashed from one thing to the next, even though some part of him understood that time had been passing in between. He had been sitting upright, rolling his eyes at something someone had said, then he was on the ground being pinned by some unknowable weight. All at once the weight was gone again, replaced instead by something not only lighter, but much warmer too. A blanket? No, a jacket.
jason and others:
Past Experience by Rookblonkorules
He thinks he might be dying. Again.
clark and jason :)
Bats in the Belfry by endlessnepenthe
Hal idly wonders how long he has before he's found. Probably not very. The Bat's freaky like that. (Or, Hal goes to Gotham and discovers that Batman's brand of freaky isn't exactly one of a kind.)
jason and hal jordan??! and slade? and magic.
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dramatisperscnae · 6 months ago
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Dick, react to foxwing, pretty please?
[Get The Boys' Opinions On AU Versions || Accepting]
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"...Y'know, I can't even be mad about it. Does this count as finding your fursona?"
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bloopitynoot · 5 months ago
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Reading SVSSS: Chapter 9
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For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!
If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.
Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.
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I feel so weird sitting here in the morning reading this, this has been my night-time routine for 8 chapters!
In all honesty the fic I was reading this morning just wasn't it/my brain kept coming back to my boy Shen Qingqiu, so here I am 8am on a Sunday heading into the Borderlands.
My teas are for evening- so this morning, hazelnut coffee!
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ah, okay, intro to this chapter. I have been wondering how the afterlife works in this series. I hope we find out more than "the border of human and demons realms" p167
JK lol this is a physical place and not an afterlife p168
oh gosh, this is quite a mess! (Re: the political upheaval within the Cang Qiong Mountain sect as well as vs others) I kind of want to know what the side quest Shang Qinghua went on in the demon realm. p169
Oh baby Luo Binghe keeping Shen Qingqiu's corpse :( p169
okay but he also took Mo Qingfang with him so maybe they were trying to figure out a way to bring Shen Qngqiu back? p170
I would have loved to be privy to the Tea that Lu Liu was about to spill about his theories of Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu ahaha but instead we got a knock on the door interrupting p171
who is this newcomer??? Wait who's the second one?? The anticipation!! pp172-173
wait. "what year is it?" New character or??? p174
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I fucking cant. Yes it is Shen Qinqgiu. but also the dramatic flair is too much RE: "faking your death is overdone, I must therefore actually die :)" p174
omg SQQ had a backup body made from the mushrooms! This is so wild. This was definitely Shang Qinghua's side quest for sure. p175
omg I can't stop laughing. What is with MXTX killing the leads and then twinkifying their new bodies. p176
it's been FIVE YEARS?!?!?!?!? p177. Oh damn, bless that he has an abundance of spiritual energy now!
He really told them his name was peerless cucumber- oh my. p178. Can we talk about how they then immediately stated he was a bottom with the Peerless "chrysanthemum, crown, flower.."p178
The hypocrite lol "It is wrong for you to profit from their misfortune" after he literally stole all the clothes on his back and a fancy fan for fun (and cultivating, but let's be real mostly fun). p180
why does everything just come back to SQQ just fantasizing about Luo Binghe's dick? We went from SQQ ranting about demon naming conventions to what he would call Luo Binghe's actual dick LOL p181
HEAVENLY PILLAR-JUN - pls end me XD stooop. p182
Meanwhile we have these demons sweating because they think this man is incredibly powerful and very unstable as SQQ laughs maniacally then slaps himself. p182 I really don't think they are wrong TBH.
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oh no! I need to now what Liu Mingyan has been doing in the badlands! p184
but also SQQ assuming that Liu Mingyan is Luo BInghe's wife.
OOOOOO Sha Hualing is back! p185 I like love her as a villain, but hate her as a character. She's in a weird place for me, but I appreciate her LOL
Who the heck is this youth? p186
Jesus christ. the fact that in this moment SQQ hates Sha Hualing's nails- not because there is a kid about to get slice and diced, but because in the novel she uses them to tear up Luo BInghe's back when they fuck. I cannot with this man *face palm* p187
okay we have a name for this young master- Yang Yixuan, and this little baby is Liu Qingge's disciple! p188
learning about how Luo Binghe's cultivation works with his need to basically dual cultivate to level himself out has me officially believing that the system basically allowed SQQ to build the ideal body for Luo Binghe. he definitely has the excess spiritual power LOL p190
This interaction with Sha Hualing and Liu Mingyan tho...I really love Liu Mingyan! Wait- oh no! Not her clawing her face!!! p194
okay she did not get her face clawed
Well, my theory about SQQ building the perfect bod has more merit with the nuns now out of the picture. p197
Holy shit. he actually is strong enough to break through immortal binding cables!! p199
NOW he notices the script change LOL p201 "Shen Qingqiu had certainly never planned to fill in the gap they left behind himself. He had that old feeling of having accidentally picked up the wrong script- it made him vaguely suspicious that the scam of a System was still around"
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Dang! he broke the net too! p201
and we have a small appearance by Luo Binghe!!!
Yay! I am so excited i've missed the system, glad it's back. even though it seems kind of broken lol p203
Well "peerless xiangsheng" and "senior peerless" are certainly better than peerless cucumber LOL p205
oh my. Well I mean, he's not entirely wrong is he? Re: Lu Liu's epic tale of the tragic one-sided love between Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu. (and this is the Tea I wanted at the beginning of the chapter, I am so happy about it). pp206-207
oh my sweet summer child "Those details aren't the slightest bit reliable, okay? 'The Truth' your sister! Even if I had no girl to fondle for twenty years, no matter how wretched I became, I wouldn't get so desperate that I'd get gay with a guy! Let alone get gay with the male lead!" p212
This Chapter LOL
This was definitely a needed pick up after we had that wretched death. But now I am so curious! I need to know how this turns into their weird but epic love story. When do these two collide??? What happens next???? (do not answer any of these questions LOL no spoilers, but I am very excited to read on).
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dramatisperscnae · 10 months ago
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closed starter for @bruz3r's superheavy arc >w>
Once upon a time, Dick had thought he'd never put on the cape and cowl again. Once upon a time, he'd actively avoided doing so until there had been no other choice; Bruce was gone, a murderous pretender was aiming for the title, and it had been a choice between stepping up and going against orders or seeing the legacy Bruce had worked so hard for - the legacy he'd given his life for - completely destroyed. And then Bruce had come back, and Dick had given the legacy back more than happily.
How times have changed.
And yet how they haven't.
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The cowl still feels strange on his face, the cape too heavy on his shoulders, but what choice does he have? Gotham City needs Batman, and in the absence of the real one Dick is just going to have to do. Like hell he's going to let anyone else do it [excepting maybe Damian, once the boy is old enough, but that won't be for years yet]
At least this time Bruce isn't entirely gone. Not physically, anyway; mentally…well, the man is still there, but he's not the same. How can he be, without the memories that shaped him? And without those, how can he be Batman?
He can't.
Such are the thoughts on Dick Grayson's mind as he runs the night's patrol. It's been an easy one so far, but in Gotham that can change in the brief pause between heartbeats. And so it does now. He's known the Wayne Foundation was holding a benefit tonight, a fundraiser for one of the Foundation's many child welfare projects, but he'd hoped - in vain, but hoped nonetheless - that it might go off without a hitch.
No such luck. The moment the word of shots fired comes over the Batmobile's radio he's turned the car around while the tires squeal in protest, flooring the accelerator and all but rocketing through the city streets, all with one thought foremost in his mind.
Please don't let Bruce be there…
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everythingwasnormalhere · 9 months ago
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I'm sorry if I'm invading a personal headcanon or anything but could you explain to me the plural cartman HC?? it sounds soooo interesting
YOU'RE NOT INVADING I LOVE TALKING ABOUT IT
also i kinda stole it from @richierambles (with permission obvi!! we're friends lmao) so definitely not a personal hc XD
The main premise of this au is cartman having dissociative identity disorder (D.I.D.). DID is basically when your personality fragments, so there's like multiple people (alters/headmates/etc) coexisting in your brain, usually due to childhood trauma but not always. I can talk more about the disorder itself and/or link better explanations if anyone wants me to :)
Anyway, in my version of this au, Cartman finds out about his system (I call them their sillies but they don't have an official sysname yet ;-;) when he's 17 or so, and I like to focus a lot on the relationships between alters and with the m5 :) it's also part of my main au because idk how to write cartman otherwise
Uhhh some of my fav alters of them are the hosts (the ones who front (exist/have control) more often), their names are Sam and Collins, and Sam is also a protector (and a dick, but it's cartman so that was expected, almost all the sillies are dicks actually lmao). There's also Artemis, who's a kid who was introjected from Clyde Frog and who's super close to Kyle. And Sunny/Love, who is basically Cupid Me and who flirts with Kyle 24/7 😭
Idk there's a lot of stuff and scenarios on this au, so if you wanna know more stuff pls just ask me about it!!! I gave you the basic rundown but there's A Lot of lore here XD
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borathae · 9 months ago
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Chapter 16
OH MY GOD WE ARE NOT DEAD YAY HOBI
WHERES KOOK???? HIS BACK????
okay this was like the calmest reaction to me being a vampire I have ever seen. hobari, my love, tae already told her thats why she is chill
I once had a girl literally run away from me screeching prayers.” xd HAHA imagine someone pulling out the cross at him and saying THE POWER CHRIST COMPELS YOU and him just blinking
hobi baby, ik your are excited, but its quite the wrong time and person to test your new skills
“No, I’m not like Jungkook. I don’t go crazy at the smell or taste of blood. Especially not when yours tastes like literal ass right now, wow thanks ig
holy shit no baby kook, im gonna fucking cry DONT PUNISH YOURSELF YOU SAVED US BOTH FUCK IM ALL TEARY EYES
I’m just waiting for the day when vampire hunters break through the front door and shoot you guys.” im imagining them coming in fbi style FBI OPEN UP WE KNOW ITS SANGUIS hobi's cute dumbass - how did u know seokjin- you just proved it
this is why she isnt scared of you both 😭😭😭 reminds me of that tiktok asking whose house will you rob and everyone straight up said hobi in the comments 💀
imagine someone seeing their bodies in front of the house also was it tae or yoongi or someone else??
ok hobi was 26 in 1982, so born in 1956 and is 68 so its 2024 hmm SO KOOK IS 94 WTF they are not even dilf, they are gilf 😭😭😭 wait in that case whats tae 😭 hold on jimin mentioned yoongi being older, is that in older than 800 years or turned at an older age?
I was turned in 1875 by some random prostitute”, bitch pls 😭😭😭 he doesnt have a sob story nor a heroic one
wait something doesnt add up jin is 217, so if its 2024, he should be born in 1807, but he was 27 in 1875
“Good that you ask because listen this is such a story”, ..“Oh god here we go again stop being a jealous bean just cuz u got turned by a hoe 😭😭
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. With that massive schlong that I carry around” you say sarcastically. you sure about that? was that foreshadow to the oneshot lol
“She bit my neck!” “And she bit my dick!” one got their throat ripped out and other ones dick. great just great. i just know, no vampire has a story like this, i mean sure neck being bitten but from a prostitute?? and dick being bitten hobi im sorry but thats a tragic comedy
A bang then a clash. bro this scared me so bad only to see its “Stupid raccoon don’t run away, come on let me spank your rubbish stealing buttocks!”
whats calling her?? where is she going?? who is down there calling? 2seokook wont have something suspicious down there right?
daisies and fresh sheets? is that jungkook? why is he down there? wtf HOW DID THE DARK CORRIDOR TURN BRIGHT???
damn how hard did he hurt himself this is so heartbreaking let me get my blanket 😭
As long as I’m paralysed I’m no danger to you NO STOP whos cutting onions
OMG SHE KISSED HIS CHEEK IM BLUSHING LIKE IM THE ONE WHO GOT KISSED AAAH
WHERES KOOK???? HIS BACK????
buckle in, that's where the angst begins 😭
okay this was like the calmest reaction to me being a vampire I have ever seen. hobari, my love, tae already told her thats why she is chill
Hobari gosh :( I miss them all together </3
I once had a girl literally run away from me screeching prayers.” xd HAHA imagine someone pulling out the cross at him and saying THE POWER CHRIST COMPELS YOU and him just blinking
JJADSFJ tbfh it's so valid though JFADJSJF
hobi baby, ik your are excited, but its quite the wrong time and person to test your new skills
FADSHJFJ HE IS SO CHAOTIC BAHAHHAH
“No, I’m not like Jungkook. I don’t go crazy at the smell or taste of blood. Especially not when yours tastes like literal ass right now, wow thanks ig
hhiihih he is so good in flirting hhiihih
holy shit no baby kook, im gonna fucking cry DONT PUNISH YOURSELF YOU SAVED US BOTH FUCK IM ALL TEARY EYES
I'M CRYING IN THE CLUB
imagine someone seeing their bodies in front of the house also was it tae or yoongi or someone else??
WHOOO KNOWWSSS not me (i know)
ok hobi was 26 in 1982, so born in 1956 and is 68 so its 2024 hmm SO KOOK IS 94 WTF they are not even dilf, they are gilf 😭😭😭 wait in that case whats tae 😭 hold on jimin mentioned yoongi being older, is that in older than 800 years or turned at an older age?
OKAY BEAR IN MIND!!!! I wrote this story in 2020 so it takes place in 2020. You have to subtract 4 years of their age during Sanguis Alpha. Also as far as your Yoongi question is concerned, we do not know yet what exactly he meant 👀
I was turned in 1875 by some random prostitute”, bitch pls 😭😭😭 he doesnt have a sob story nor a heroic one
fjajdfadjs he is so pathetic jfdajsf
wait something doesnt add up jin is 217, so if its 2024, he should be born in 1807, but he was 27 in 1875
Nooo it takes place in 2020 queen <3 no wait. WAIT my bisexual ass did the maths wrong HELP!!!! thanks for pointing it out I need to change the dates jfdjsjf
“Good that you ask because listen this is such a story”, ..“Oh god here we go again stop being a jealous bean just cuz u got turned by a hoe 😭😭
oh sweet summer child if only you knew jfdjsf
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. With that massive schlong that I carry around” you say sarcastically. you sure about that? was that foreshadow to the oneshot lol
BESTIE THE DOTS ARE CONNECTING FJDSJF
“She bit my neck!” “And she bit my dick!” one got their throat ripped out and other ones dick. great just great. i just know, no vampire has a story like this, i mean sure neck being bitten but from a prostitute?? and dick being bitten hobi im sorry but thats a tragic comedy
aahhaha they're so chaotic I love them fjadjf
whats calling her?? where is she going?? who is down there calling? 2seokook wont have something suspicious down there right?
the suspicionn
daisies and fresh sheets? is that jungkook? why is he down there? wtf HOW DID THE DARK CORRIDOR TURN BRIGHT???
THE SUSPICION
damn how hard did he hurt himself this is so heartbreaking let me get my blanket 😭
i'm crying so hard 😭
As long as I’m paralysed I’m no danger to you NO STOP whos cutting onions
LIKE PLEASE 😭😭😭
OMG SHE KISSED HIS CHEEK IM BLUSHING LIKE IM THE ONE WHO GOT KISSED AAAH
THEY'RE SO CUTUUTUTEEEE
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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months ago
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How do you think each member would act/behave during a blowjob? e.g. thrusting, being vocal, putting his hand on your head, etc.
This is wiyllt-specific. (Well, you already knew this is my inbox.) I can't really say for people that don't possess my mouth and excessive amount of practice. I am generally adaptable, but I will always lead. They might have the dick but when it comes to dick-sucking they know nothing (unless????). Still, don't distract me during my tongue rituals! >:)
Of course, this is assuming they want and give me consent to blow them.
Kim Namjoon: Would absolutely respect that I'm a master at work creating art on his dick. XD He'd be moderately vocal. Won't touch or move unless I directed him because he knows the importance of consistent rhythm. I could use advanced tactics on him, so more intense and visceral. He would have the patience and appreciation for a slow, soft suck but also could withstand my full force. Maybe not into back-to-back multiple orgasms. But who knows?! Only one way to find out!
Kim Seokjin: Oh, Seokjin. You're so hot and you would be so scared of me. There's no way I can pull out the demon mouth or psycho tonguework until much later. He would be able to sense the danger even if all I did was smile next to his dick. Welp. Extremely vocal. May get concerned calls from neighbors. Might have to slap his hands away. I'm not going to hurt him but I'm not letting him escape either. Slow and steady and with my tongue at a different pace than my mouth. He's not gonna be sure if he wants that intense of a nut again. XD
Min Yoongi: Okay, he's the master of tongue technology, right? We'll see about that. (Don't take that as a threat, pls.) Would enjoy the full service including the balls. Not that vocal but it'll be no mystery on what he likes and doesn't like. I think he'd really like that I barely use my hands while sucking dick. It's pretty impressive. Might take one of my hands and hold it up while I'm going to town to really drive that point home. I usually go all the way down when they cum but occasionally he puts his hand on the back of my head to keep me there. I think he could withstand stimulation right after orgasm. I'd let him slow thrust into my mouth or slowly lick him up.
Jung Hoseok: There's nervous laughter but Hobi already knows (or thinks he knows) what's in store for him. Pretty vocal. "Wow!" 'Woah!" Can already hear it in his voice hehe. He is not prepared for the rollercoaster my mouth is about to put him though. Def not prepared for all the places I'm licking. He's always making sure my hair is not interfering with my (blow)job. So considerate uwu. Shocked with how neat I can be with it and yet it feels so wet. (I have great saliva control, you're welcome Hobi.) Would be more accepting of a messy blowjob if we were in the shower, tho.
Park Jimin: Probably mildly scared of me. But he's not expecting me to be to be all soft and light-hearted, you know. Actually wants me to be freaky with it, so I won't be disappointing. Soft, delicate moans. I think I could instruct him to slap my tongue with his dick for additional visual. Or do it myself. He'd like that. I'll suck the head at the back of my throat at a different pace than the shaft (the demon mouth huhuhu). He might bring his balls up to smack against my chin while I suck him or direct me to do that for him for all-over sensation. He's so helpful. :)
Kim Taehyung: Definitely showing off the mastery of my tongue just so I can hear his voice. What?! You wanna hear it too; don't lie to me! I think it would be fun to smack my cheek with his dick, but Tae is too polite to endorse that (even though he would get harder, hehe). At first, anyway. He would appreciate an elegant visual that I am happy to provide. Not too embellished. He would prefer a slow descent into lust and madness. Sorry, Taehyung, I'm probably taking your soul in the process. You sound too sexy and look too good for me not to.
Jeon Jungkook: Look. You see this blog. I can't stop myself when under the influence of the biggest boba peepers. We know he's got energy to burn. I'm taking him to the brink. He's gonna want me to not hold back because he believes he can take it. (Foolish bunny.) He'll get addicted to the intensity. Loud. He can muffle himself when he wants to but he won't when it feels too fucking good. I'll grab his hips if he starts involuntarily thrusting. (I'll let any of them fuck my face if the vibes are good but JK strikes me as the least able to control himself hahaha.) We are gonna find out if he can cum multiple times in one session. We need to know. How much can you take, Jungkook? Don't worry, you'll get that and more. ;) When he gives me that angry expression, I'll know the nut was insanely good, hehe.
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breadandblankets · 8 months ago
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Pls pls pls hate on the Tim Cass twins thing more, it's so weird.
oh my goooooodness nonny you are enabling me so bad lmao, gd i love hating
putting this under a cut cause it got a lil long and i don't want people to see hate that don't want to! ^.^
Cass can really Never be given a break from DC and DC fans making her whole life and personhood be about white men huh, and in the Rare cases that the whole "twin" thing has Any substance outside of just calling them twins or drawing them with their faces smushed together it is never as interesting (to me) as the almost brush we had with Jason and Cass Actually Being Siblings
i know that last bit isn't canon but it has More canon basis than the tim cass twin thing, but regardless
it abuts the "tim is east asian" headcanon that as we are aware, is racist lmao, so you run the gamut of white washing cass or uncomfortably race bending tim to make this work and it is, at the end of the day deeply uncomfortable and weird, i have No idea why or how people have latched onto this but Okay
even if you don't do all of that and are just like "oh they just look similar" they All Look Similar, why do you think we keep joking about identical looking robins, you could do this with Any of them why is it Only Ever Tim
Cass is, to me, a character deeply Deeply defined by her relationship to other women, yes she has male characters that are extremely important to her and her story but to me they pale in comparison with the women in her life. You can't bring up a single batboy that will ever Ever hold a candle to the impact of Babs, Shiva, Steph, the BOP, etc
(its almost refreshing seeing as how steph is in many ways the opposite, she is defined by the men in her life, and she's jerked around by them, they make the big impacts etc)
Cass is not a toy to prop up white bat boys. You are manufacturing a false connection and then making her nothing but that connection. There are more characters there are Better characters to make Cass friends with, i am very glad to be a Duke fan whenever i try to dip my toe into the Harper tag for instance.
I think at this point that Tim is a Better character when he's not with the bats outside of like Dick and Bruce lmao. But thats just going to make the superfam fans mad at me for foisting tim fans on them XD.
Please, genuinely engage with the characters as they are, as they exist, theyre better than fanon gives them credit for, Tim is a better character than fanon would lead you to believe and this is Me saying this, No 9 Tim Drake Hater. Cass is more than this and deserves better from fandom that what some have done to her.
ugh im such an optimist i cant even hate properly fuck
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