#even when ppl say they want to get me off its like less ‘oh i want to get off’ and more ‘oh my god someone is so turned on by me that

[faggotpussy]

i cannot stop about someone jerking off on top of me i think that might be my love language

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

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

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

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

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

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

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

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

➸ masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

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

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

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

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for no flirting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Bros.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels like throwing up. 

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

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

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

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

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

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

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think about fucking you all the time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10:34am you: do it then

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

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

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

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

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

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

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

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

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

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

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

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

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—” He stops himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

[the end]

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

➸ masterlist

taglist:

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@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru

@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi

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@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[relaxxattack]

every time someone calls moirallegience just an alien qpr i wilt a lil like YEAH thats more or less the CLOSEST human thing but its also Literally Not That. like a qpr is fundanmentally not romantic and thats not even going into moirails whole Actual Purpose of calming ppl down. its just. aughhhhh pisses me off i see the confusion but, as aformentioned, aughhhhh

OH MY GOD THIS HAS BEEN BOTHERING ME TOO.... but i don't want to get petty at the people in my notes always saying "moirails are QPRs!" because in some ways that is the closest human thing so it's hard to be mad...

i think there's definitely some overlap in some ways. but NOT because moirallegiance and qprs are the same at all really, but INSTEAD because both relationships have unconventional boundaries defined by the people within them.

you know... like every relationship.

like the only reason the two have overlap is because they are both partnerships that emotionally care for each other but can choose to not bang (which is true for any romance anyway, even if it's considered abnormal). they're both just romances* that are unconventional to human norms, which makes people view them as the same thing when they're not.

i think the REAL issue here is that humans insist on using human words to understand things that are just, fundamentally, alien. can't we just appreciate alien romance for being... alien romance?

no, it's not platonic, it's romantic. it's just romantic in a way you aren't quite wired to understand, is all.

*in generalization, most QPRs are not romantic, because they are made up of aroaces who are life partners in a non-romantic way. however i want to disagree with you that none of them are romantic, because that is up to the partners in question.

[commanderquinn]

a list of canon ways in which lillian hart is The Fucking Worst that cora coe deserves financial and emotional compensation for:

-the basis for the big divorce counseling mission is that cora's worried for her mother's safety. that means, before going on a deep cover operation with smugglers known to kill rangers, marines, or anyone else caught trying to interfere with their business, lillian didnt leave her daughter a heads up much less a lead. once the fuck again, this woman decided that her career was more important than her daughter's mental and emotional health. once the fuck again, this woman decided she could just disappear from cora's life and then come back out of the blue without consequence

-when you go to lillian's office to look for her at cora's request, the guy working the desk knows SAM well enough to know his name and give him shit like they've got a personal history, but he??? isnt sure about????? cora's name???? word for word, he looks at her and says "it's cora, right?" you're telling me that this woman doesn't talk about her kid enough for her fellow INVESTIAGATIVE rangers to be sure about her name??? are you SHITTING ME??????? get the fuck out of here. you cant push "ranger family values" and the close ties they have in one breath then claim she likes to keep a professional distance at work in the other. you wanna have the conversation about what fresh hell it is being a working mother in a position of power, lets go, ill have that conversation all day long. but lillian hart is not a fucking example of a working mother and im gonna be pretty fucking insulted for working mothers everywhere if i catch wind of ppl trying to pull that kind of defense card. the woman's an awful parent and should be held the fuck accountable for it. you wanna know how i know????

she doesn't say cora's name enough for the ranger watching the door to be confident in it, but he remembers alllll the stories of the captain her ex is cozying up to. and lillian is the one to confirm during the quest that she has been getting the stories from cora, so there's some clear "oh she already likes the stranger more than me." i know im reading into it because its fiction and none of these people are real, but ive also, y'know been in cora's shoes, so i can tell you from real life experience that shit does exist. idk if that was the writers INTENT, but it sure does a great job at reflecting a very sad reality

-sam points out its dumb that lillian wants to speed the ship, with her daughter on it, directly at the sydicate. idk abt y'all, but my ship was pretty dinky at that point bc i was focused on outposts, and we got ambushed by like 6 ship waves once we landed for that fight. again, i get it. game mechanics get a higher priority than realism. but this whole "we have to finish this because theres a chance you were spotted trying to rescue me" shit is so. nauseating. theres no demand to drop off cora somewhere safe, theres no "lets call in the cavalry." its this fucking egomaniac looking you dead in the eye and being like "i know i just traumatized the shit out of my kid but i need you to drive us into an ambush while she's still on board. hope you're a good shot because sam and i cant kill them ourselves." and so what that we did that????? YOURE TELLING ME IT WAS JUST THOSE SHIPS???? the rest of the organization is just going to LET IT GO???? like no fucking wonder sam sees himself as the better option even through all his fucking doubt. at least he knows when to turn the fuck around because shit is above his paygrade

-she has custody rights. she is a decorated and respected ranger. sam being a smuggler wasnt public knowledge, but point out one person in akila who wouldnt believe her in a heartbeat over it. everyone in town gives him nothing but shit, and they all side with his dad who was definitely no picnic to live with. im guessing big emotional detachment there, lotta interrogation and persecution rather than teaching and understanding. HELL, sam would probably own up to his past if lillian outed him for it, he's that type of idiot. at literally any point she could put in the effort to get legal council involved. if she's SOOOO by the law, whats the hold up there???? i agree the kid shouldnt be on my ship while im in the middle of a space fight. ive talked with sam about it, and im not even the kids parent (as of the personal quest). what the fuck are you doing about it lillian????????? oh thats right. we cant get lillian on the phone. whomp whomp.

-she made cora cry. hyper independent, "big girls dont cry" cora coe. multiple times. worse, she made cora cry because she made cora feel like she wasn't as important as lillian's career. i dont give a fuck what criminals are doing. i do not give a fuck. i give a fuck that that little pixel child got her heart broken and there isnt a dialogue for me to call out her mother for being a huge fucking cunt to her own daughter but theres a thousand and one options for me to tell sam he's parenting wrong. he is, and i have no problem using them when they're appropriate, but where the fuck are they for lillian??? why am i not allowed to tear this woman a new asshole at any point, but there's like 20+ extra dialogue options added to every single npc you have a persuade option with???? todd my head hurts and its your fault

-"im sure sam's told you all about me. go on. ask whatever you want." yet there is no option to ask what the fuck her problem is. so, clearly, i cannot, in fact, ask whatever i want.

-"but the looks i got from my fellow rangers reading alexander dumas... we do strange things for kids." yeah hart??? thats your standard????? THATS your idea of going out of your way for your kid??? literally how did sam fall for this woman oh my god i cant even listen to her speak without wanting to use the power of bitchhood i inherited from a long line of angry irish women to ridicule her to tears. maybe then she'll fucking understand how small she makes her fucking kid feel every time she turns a moment of bonding into a little "woe is me and my comfort zone oh how unfortunate i am to have a brilliant daughter that wants to connect with me through her greatest passion"

-she openly admits that she dumped the cargo sam was smuggling not because she felt any connection or sympathy or just didnt want to destroy someones chance at life in a capitalist society, but because he was a good pilot and she didnt want that talent to "go to waste" so she could recruit him. thats not really a thing against cora i just really fucking hate that and the picture it paints of her priorities as a human being

-"if we're going to be really honest here... back when we were a team... cora would follow you everywhere, like a little adoring dog. i... just fell out of it. long before we separated."

i literally. do not have words for how fucking disgusted i am by that line of dialogue. oh my fucking god. oh my fucking god. i. i TRULY would not even know where to start. the dog comparison makes me violently angry and if you'd given me a punch interrupt at that moment, i would have broken my keyboard punching the accept option

-go replay or watch a recording of that divorce counseling mission one more time. while you're doing it, imagine the roles reversed. imagine youre romancing a character thats a mother bringing cora into space, and the ranger standing in your cockpit asking to finish the mission is her father who took off to live at work once it was clear his little girl liked mommy better. imagine THAT while you listen to the (imo) out of fucking pocket dialogue where sam constantly praises lillian for being "a good ranger/woman." then you come back and tell me how comfortable you are with the concept of lillian hart as a character.

[leefi]

The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere Read-through | Part 1: Chapters 1-14

Part 1: 1-14 | Part 2: 14-22 | Part 3: 22-34 | Part 4: 34-64 | Part 5: 64-80 | Part 6: 81-90 | Part 7: 90-100 | Part 8: 100-127 (caught up here)

Hi!!!! I've been reading through this webnovel after seeing @ot3's pitch for it and started writing down some thoughts on the characters and worldbuilding and imminent murdering. This story is very, very long and I only reacted up to about chapter 33, so most of my thoughts will involve the worldbuilding and less the murder mystery aspect -- so if you're looking for theorizing you won't find much of that here. Since I'll be continuing eventually, I wanted to post what I did make note of to revisit later!

Most of these are not marked by chapter/section because I was lazy and I'm not sure how easy it will be to follow as a result, but everything is chronological.

everyone here is hijabi mashallah

The visual I'm getting of the solar system/local system/dimension they inhabit is kind of a blend of steampunk and fantasy and uhh some secret third thing. With the walls of their "universe" painted in that puella dollhouse witch lair style. Does the sun bounce around like a screensaver. Does it orbit their earth or is it on a fixed axis flung out into “space”? Does “space” even exist anymore? I’m assuming they’re in an enclosed area that they've created. Do they actively use arcane resources to keep objects (ie star and planets) sustaining themselves, or have they made them self sufficient?

everyone is so mean to Ptolema leave her alone what the fuckk let a bimbo live i want to kill you all you’re so annoying. Ptolema I WOULD be your friend and not ask all these weird ass questions. and we would hold hands and skip and giggle

Yes shes an airhead nepo baby but you guys could try doing anything other than snickering and rolling your eyes whenever she says stupid shit. If she starts arguing back about government war crimes during the Revolution or something then you have my blessing to beat her ass!

I HATE kamsurepa i HATE her i HAYE Her and her stupid ass name

Ran and Su have no chemistry its insane that theyre always hanging out every conversation is like uhhh (awkward silence) (rude comment from Ran) *Su voice* wow she gets me so well. every time they talk im like what the fuck just happened.

Su’s internal narration is too self aware for me. it’s like she talks like she knows she’s a character? or something. it's self-deprecating in a very bizarre way

im sorry i don’t know if i can continue with this. i know too many med students irl and these characters are literally pissing me off. compliments to the author for realism you knocked it out of the park

Oh, thank you very much!" Kam said, reverting back to her smiley-diplomatic form for a moment before stepping away from the counter and continuing as she handed us the cards. "...as far as it seems to me, the desire to reproduce is essentially an immature form of pursuing life-extension - this idea that you'll 'live on through your children' that's patently pseudo-mysticism justifying what is ultimately an animal instinct." ⬇️ I’m going to grab her ginger head and swing her around like bowser in mario 64. SHUT UPPPPP SHUT UP please tell me shes the one that dies

You know," I mused idly, my eyes wandering. "I think this is actually the fourth glass ceiling I've seen today." "Mm, it's true that you don't see a lot of women working in Aetheromancy," ⬇️ I know this is a small nitpick but aren’t we really far into the future why do they keep using terms like this 😭 gendered stuff like this still exists billions? trillions? of years into the future?

Why has the disco elysium skill tree randomly started talking to su. Is this her future self nagging her. Is she pulling a han sooyoung. when do we get to the various utsushikome ego deaths

"prosognostic overlap"…do ppl repeat faces? Are most people cloned at this point? What triggered the need for cloning surely medicine is advanced enough that childbirth or test tube babies are feasible? Can bodies be cloned and reinhabited to inhibit aging? Is there some disturbing psychological element to seeing someone with the same face as you? Does it make your brain short circuit? Kam mentioned having children earlier which I assume means people still give birth or have test tube babies, so i don’t know if it’s the result of cloning…but it does sound like a sameface sort of thing. What else would it be if not that though?

Actually, if they’ve figured out teleportation (whatever it was called when they went up the aetherbridge) - let's say they can atomize a body and reforming it elsewhere (though we don't know for sure yet, could also be a fold in spacetime) - transferring consciousness to an empty clone of yourself (and therefore effectively doing away with aging or death wholesale) sounds a lot more efficient and technologically practical than maintaining an organic system that naturally decays. Why keep on finding ways to push the human body past its limits when you could simply transfer a person to a new, identical vessel?

I feel like the key to immortality isn’t maintaining an organic body, which naturally tends towards systems of entropy (being a biological thing, entropy=decay), but rather delineating and separating human consciousness from its host and replicating its original environment perfectly. I’m not talking about making a copy of consciousness, which is just glorified cloning - I’m talking about *transferring* a consciousness.

You could almost call dementia itself the mind's tendency towards its own kind of entropy?

Though if you transfer a consciousness to a younger body, the dementia issue could still potentially remain. Depends on if it the author sees it as a solely physical phenomena (atrophy/buildup of inhibitors of the brain) or there's some metaphysical anomaly about amassing too many memories/"existing" too long in general

The way spellwork is described is really cool and feels super believable. Optimizing multiple concurrent spells into one “function” is intricate and sophisticated, and you have to dedicate a lot of brainpower to doing the math in your head. It’s like they’re coding the real world. I love the way lurina describes this it's awesome.

[futurefind]

Hiatus Announcement

//I've alluded to it before but now I'm actually verbalizing it so!! Hiatus announcement be upon ye!! More specifically, a 'pseudo' hiatus, where I'll basically be putting entire blog on 'request only'— I'll prob keep lurking, likely keep posting About my blorbos, absolutely keep any threads, but... Gestures.

Tl;dr, because I'm not good about talking About feelings, and to try and talk about it would make me feel like I'm guilt tripping etc etc: I'm extremely low spoons, and about as low confidence, so I don't have the energy to be proactive and 100% initiate like... anything.

And it'd feel misleading to say 'oh I'm not on hiatus :)' as if I'm on full activity when I'm... not!

If you initiate stuff I'll return the favor and babble back, up to and including just asking me to do xyz (blorbo babbles, inbox raiding, etc)!!

(Edit/PS: As always my discord's available to moots, @/nethernor_i, but since I'll be lurking tumblr IMs also work as usual!!)

(Edit 8.4.24: Just to state the obvious for obvious's sake, again: PLEASE INITIATE/DM/ETC if you want anything!! When I say request only I mean it and so outside of that I'm gonna presume you're not keen on me / us doing anything.)

EDIT / UPDATE (8.7)

I said I wasn't gonna talk about the why's of my hiatus but I can't stop thinking about it and it's not not relevant to share even if it can't be helped so: that'll be below the cut since it's insecurity / vent / negative adjacent :')

Tl;dr, though: I don't feel comfortable here on tumblr anymore and that's what's impacting my activity / presence / confidence / etc, not just universally low spoons across the board. When I came back it was for sake networking for rp and making friends Through rp, but at current it's fizzled out and i'm much more comfortable focusing on private rp / rp groups than on here

(But if we have preexisting threads on here I won't drop them, juuuuust don't be afraid to add & poke me on discord to lmk when you've replied<3)

(again, this is below the cut for vent/negative/insecurity reasons, so if youre not up for that dwai) - any further Regular updates will be put above this section lol

idk I feel the simplest and most 'objective' way to put it is that my intent of 'keep dash tiny and small and palatable to prevent getting overwhelmed' is severely biting me in the ass bc it leads to extremely like... disproportionate? desires of activity??? where I'm looking to get lots of activity from (for example), like, ~5 people, but they are both not looking for turbo activity with me specifically and have interactions with 20+ people they're looking to keep up with (if, not necessarily, wrt longform rp) — on top of all the once-very-active moots that have dipped off into the void entirely, not just wrt ~our rp~

and like... subjectively??? i have like no sense of relationship decay, but exponentially horrific emotional permanence (the thing that lets you know you're cared about even when ppl are not directly talking to you or the like), and combined with the negative feedback loop of 'low confidence -> low activity -> less confidence bc less activity ->->' ???

it creates a very very Not Fun mix that makes me feel alone and lonely, like i'd be ignored even screaming in a crowded room, and feeling like what interactions i Do get are moreso an after thought or pity rather than reciprocated enthusiasm.

and its like. idk. it feels like law of diminishing returns but also w at least five secret spices of guilt about it—whether it's because i'm not 'trying hard enough' to 'earn' the 'attention', or because i'm 'blaming' ppl for the completely lighthearted nbd act of just... not making me a 'favorite' and making me feel 'entitled/spoiled' for just missing people

[aslongasimhereyoureinvincible]

what are your neurodivergent headcanons for hq characters?

asdfjhgfds sorry this has been in my askbox for a few days ive been busy w/ Life Stuff TM but anyways ND haikyuu headcanons lets gooo

hinata:

ik bc hes Sunshiney and Loud lots of ppl read hinata as adhd, which i can deffo see, but personally i read him as autistic

hes extroverted and good at adopting introverts (kageyama, kenma, yachi, tsukki) but when u stop to think abt it hes also actually kinda bad at social ques and 'normal' behaviour?? i think ppl dont notice bc hes also rlly nice but hinata is actually pretty blunt lmao

his special interest is literally volleyball cmon now

its canon that he dislikes being in classes too long or doing homework bc he finds sitting still for too long difficult, both me and my autistic older brother used to get up and pace around our classrooms when we were younger

even though hes rlly athletic and has insane reflexes obviously, hes also pretty clusmy and especially bad at judging distances which to me looks like dyspraxia which is really commonly comorbid w/ autism

ive also read a few fics where he has tourettes syndrome w/ body tic and i can deffo see why ppl would hc that

idk hes just reads as autistic so well in my mind like idk why its not a more common take

kageyama:

this one is less of a headcanon and moreso just interpreting the text correctly; hes definitely autistic

like its my belief that furudate either knowingly wrote kageyama as autistic or like based his personality off of an irl autistic person they knew or SOMETHING bc its actually insane how well he reads as autistic

the lack of social skills? the anger issues? the deep special interest in volleyball? the just wanting to express your feelings/opinions but coming off as rude but not knowing how to fix that? middle school being a living hell? having that one family member who Got you? the high level of skill in one particular area? hes literally the texboox definition of autism

even the little things like how he files his nails and jokes go over his head and he accidentally insults ppl bc hes calling it how he sees it and how he basically had no friends growing up bc he was too focused on volleyball and how he struggles to smile on command like!!! thats autism babe!!!!!!

oh also hes dyslexic bc im dyslexic and i say so

ushijima:

same as kageyama i bet he was either knowing written as autistic or based off of an irl person who is

blunt as all hell, monotone voice and facial expressions, volleyball as a special interest, bad at social interaction, accidentally rude, the list goes on and on

like his whole thing about how his left handedness makes him different but is also a gift that benefits him in some ways? thats a metaphor for neurodivergency dont @ me

oikawa:

i hc him as having narcisstic personality disorder, not in the ableist reddit-user 'all ppl w/ npd are evil manipulative abusers' way but in the ' i have npd and know what it actually looks like' way

hiding massive insecurities by acting like youre amazing?? that fuckin marina lyric thats like 'i feel like im the worst so i always act like im the best'?? that was abt oikawa tooru and npd

feeling threatened the second someone as good or better than you shows up? fixating on one specific thing that you have to be the best at? those are npd as fuck traits

the way he can basically get along with anyone and adjust his play style to suit them but only has a few close friendships where he can let his true personality rlly shine through

hes literally so npd coded augh <3

bokuto:

i read him as adhd and having cyclothymia

i think he was unmedicated in high school and unknowingly had depressive and hypomanic episodes which affected his play

he also very much reads as having rejection sensitive dysphoria if u ask me

and the way he talks and bounces around and has All That Damn Energy gives me adhd vibes, esp pared w/ his poor volume control ad the way he ignores social cues lol

okay quickfire round bc im getting tired of typing

atsumu is autistic, so is osamu for that matter, theyre just at very different points on the spectrum and rub each other up the wrong way a lot of the time bc of it

kita is also autistic bc no neurodivergent person is that particular about doing things the 'right' way

hoshiumi is autistic and adhd

asahi and yamaguchi read like they struggled w/ anxiety and depression

sakusa has ocpd and ocd (contamination ocd specifically) and mysophobia

kyoutani has aspd, again not in a 'aspd = violent agressive psychopaths' way but in a 'i actually have a cluster b personality disorder' way, and adhd also

kenma is autistic and has social anxiety

yachi has social anxiety too bc cmon now

tsukki reads to me as having chronic depression, i think i could also make a case for him being autistic too ngl

tendou is some flavour of neurodivergent, probally audhd, probably some other stuff, idk but hes definitely not neurotypical

like hinata, lev reads as autistic to me even tho hes got that goodball energy thatd make lots of ppl read him as adhd bc like,, he just fuckin sucks at social interaction like he is accidentally rude all the damn time lmaoo

fukunaga and aone are both autistic w/ selective mutism and/or partial to moderate non-verbalness

obviously its none of my business and i think having headcanons abt irl ppl is Fucking Weird but i wouldnt be surprised if furudate themself was autistic bc truly so many characters in haikyuu can be read that way if u ask me, although maybe im just projecting lol

[juni-ravenhall]

whats ur non mainstream film taste then? genuinly curious to hear. as someone whos ended up in some weird ass corners of the film world like Neil breen Zachary Oberzan 0 budget stuff i love hearing what kind of weird indie corners other people have gotten into :3

i will talk a lot below that prob wont be interesting anyway, but i have to say first that i mostly stopped watching movies and now i mostly watch things @yasminewestbank chooses (not all the time but mostly) bc shes a movie nerd, so she picks movies that are usually either genuinely good or at least watchable, and if it was just me alone id prob not be bothering to watch those anyway, bc even a great movie just doesnt give me that much. i suffer from pretty severe apathy :( so if u want someone who hypes up genuinely good movies rather than me who is like "this is genuinely good but im still apathetic and dont really care" then yasmin is better to talk to. (im also generally more of a nonfiction type when it comes to video content, i could hype up Tasting History on youtube most days of the week but i struggle to hype up any movie at all. oh, and animated shorts, there are always some interesting student films and stuff.) the rest ⬇

my taste is usually "its [symbolic or not] critical commentary on something i care about" (feminism and misogyny, classism, bigotry, racism, the queer experience, abuse, trauma, violence, human self development, etc etc) or "its portraying human experiences [internal and external] in an interesting or just realistic way", like. realistic but in a highly specific meaning of realistic. i dont care about realism as a concept itself in art (realistic visuals or realistic setting or realistic costume etc i rly do not care about), what i mean is just about capturing a real essence of human brains and experiences, not copypasting stereotypical ideas without meaning. i can also enjoy some more abstract like david lynch bc its expressing human feelings and experiences in an appealing way. im really big on symbolic stuff and will just keep talking about what different parts of the movie meant or represented after i watch something w yasmin.

(edit to add... i should prob note that many of the movies i mention have adult content and heavy topics depending on who you ask? but i assume ppl who read this would already know to check ratings and warnings)

on the criticising / teaching side of meaningful, it would be for example, Poor Things [2023].... on the realistic / documenting side, for example Burning [2018] or Naked [1993], and i liked ryuusuke hamaguchi's movies Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, and Drive My Car (tho that one has a really badly written scene in it by the end that i hated) for the characters too. i dont know if those are the best examples its more just off the top of my head. theres also mainstream movies that fit my criteria, so for that criticising / teaching side, there's for example Pleasantville [1998], and Pretty Woman, which yasmin told me ppl tend to hate, but if thats the case i think ppl really didnt understand what it was about (it showed so much about misogyny and class issues, coated in such a way that you could get average boomers to watch it as a "romantic" movie without being aware of the actual meaning of what youre going into, the same way pleasantville can be watched as a goofy gimmick movie without being aware of the meaning youre going into, tho pleasantville is heavyhanded by the end, and i guess pretty woman manages to still fly over ppls heads? but not too surprising considering all those mainstream things now will literally just explain every joke and every meaning.... its like all of media is mickey mouse clubhouse, you know?)

i more or less prefer to watch an animated short or a weird animation on youtube/social media than watching a good live action movie. some animated shorts i really liked recently are Au Revoir Jerome, GLOIRE AMERE 40000, and BOLAVLK/WEREAWOLF, and vewn stuff. and i like those Molly Moon game tiktoks, as an example of like, low production stuff…. i dont care at all how much money or time went into something, but bc im usually not actively seeking fiction video content on my own, its more about what falls into my lap by chance, or yasmin/someone shows me.

i thought of listing more movies but its kinda hard for me to remember them after a while (re: apathy). i remember i liked another one from the Poor Things guy called The Favourite but i barely remember what happens in it. I liked one called This Must Be The Place, and one called Annette. those are movies yasmin showed me or that she picked for us to try together.

oh, one movie i saw on my own that i liked a lot is And Then We Danced. it has some less good parts, but overall it for some reason really lives rent free in my head. it felt like i went and lived in georgia with the characters for an hour, idk, it was done in an immersive way that impressed me and i found appealing. another one i remember from years ago is Lille Soldat (little soldier) which i really enjoyed the main character in. that stuck with me. ive tried to find this movie to show to yasmin, but its been hard to find.

i used to watch lots of random movies (from different countries, different times in history, i had a phase where i watched a bunch of really old horror movies) but most of its been forgotten and then i just stopped watching movies whatsoever bc the mainstream ones are generally unwatchably bad and i didnt have motivation to go out of my way to find good movies anymore. its still hard even with good ones. like, The Square, and Triangle of Sadness, i watched with yasmin and it was fine, but i had already tried watching The Square alone and had to stop after a minute bc it just made me cringe and feel bored. but watching it together with her was fine and i did enjoy the meaning. so thats why i say i might not even be watching good movies if it was up to me alone....

if u werent interested in that ramble i hope u stopped reading before now for ur own good :D i have an opportunity to express myself in rambles -> i will express myself in rambles

[readreactrant]

Hi, just want to say, thanks for your blog. Before I found your blog, I thought I was the weird one for loving "problematic ship". But now, I can be proud of myself (as shipper of Goyuu, Bakudeku, Sebaciel, Ereri, Mobrei, etc)

Can't belive some great Sebaciel blog got reported and now they're gone. Bet if either Sebastian or Ciel were female then it's 'okay' and seen as less problematic.

First things first, excellent taste keep it up dear and don't let wet napkin antis dictate what you should and shouldn't read, LIVE!!!

Seconds, omfg I didn't even hear of that since I'm not on Tumblr much, I'd love to ask for the tea but I'm trying avoid drama rrn lolol. There really should be a special place in hell for antis who take pleasure in bullying ppl just minding their business off the internet.

In regards to the gender bending thing, I'd like to agree that while yes, het relationships do get more of a pass jn regards to large age gaps situations, BUT Sebastian and Ciel's case is just one of the very extreme age gaps antis will still harp on. Ciel is 14 looking a bit younger and Sebastian is old enough to mention historical figures that are centuries dead, its pretty hard to overlook and if them together isn't your thing (which is valid, no one is forcing you just step away from the screen or swipe) it will literally be the thing glaring you in the face when you come across someone shipping them.

It's not like Goyuu which some will excuse bc "oh fem teacher Gojo is hot Yuuji's so lucky, it should have been me" or "fem Yuuji is is just a girl and it's hot to crush on her sensei."

I don't like m/f relationships of any kind so none of these will appeal to me thank fucking god but any way I look at it SebastCiel in any form will always take heat because there's no way you can play down a predatory demon exploiting an emotional child that isn't entirely vulnerable bit is to some degree.

Thing is, at the end of the day it's all fiction, antis need to live a little, touch grass and stop being unhinged freaks threatening sa and murder (Literally why do they think they're the "good guys"??? I'm weak 😭)

Parting words: Ciel is THE shota and if you debate me we will do battle!!

[baahsu]

hellooo baah :))) ive yet again come here to ask your opinion on smthn vs(cest) related bc i love your takes :]. so, how d'you feel about the vs sibs having a system (and kinda a kink ig? idk them and their possessive asses prolly find it hot lmao) where whenever a person one of them likes wears their color, that means that person has been 'claimed' by whomever's color they decided to wear?

^ that was a shitty ass explanation so let me give you a somewhat less shitty example: reiju wants to hit up some hot maid girl in the castle and said hot maid girl in the castle realizes this and chooses to wear pink accents in her outfit the next day. this means she 'belongs' to reiju bc shes sporting her color. ya feel me?

now, does this *stop* the other siblings from hitting on a claimed person? oh no not at all lmao- not if the sibling finds the person attractive and wants to fuck them. the color system's basically just a warning to the others that if you hit on the claimed person and the sibling who 'owns' them isn't comfortable with sharing they get a free pass to rag on your ass lmao

BUT. thats just the system for ppl who the sibs wanna fuck. but when the sibs wanna fuck *EACH OTHER…*

imagine ichiji sitting at the breakfast table one morning with subtle green accents to his outfit- a detail everyone but his siblings (and maybe ceaser bc the vs sibs sex life is his favorite soap opera lmao) would miss, signifying that he wants to be dicked down by yonji sometime during the day. or reiju coming last to train because her nails are now a nice shade of blue as she looks at niji with a subtle flirtatious smile (hes getting pegged later :]). or sanji picking up on the system during wci and choosing to wear just *slightly* visible red lingerie under his dress shirt to signifying to ichiji that he needs to be the one ripping it off later

okok do you SEE my vision? yes? no? maybe? well either way my whole ass reason for writing this was:

just. thinking about niji abusing the fuck out of this system and becoming the whore he's always deserved to be. like he'd choose a different color every day- his normal fit being subtly paired with something else. maybe its red cufflinks, pink-accented headphones, combat boots that shine green in the sun, midnight black goggles (dont ask how sanji would be around to pick up on this after wci its a smut ask it doesnt need to make sense igsiagigwigw), or even a mix. whoevers attention he was wanting that day, he'd subtly send them a message, and make sure they see it.

this all climaxing when all of 0134 are done with his "disloyal" (they drc they just wanna excuse to fuck that twink) ass and decide to momentarily team up, ignoring him for an entire day but making sure he sees the way they're all hitting on *each other", leaving niji horny, pissed and alone and struggling to go to bed...

..until 0134 all bust down nijis door at like midnight and fuck him to tears. yonji fucking him until his thighs and legs are numb, ichiji making him practically choke to death on his cock, sanji riding his dick till hes screaming n crying, and reiju sitting on/riding his face so hard he cant breathe. theyre all saying shit like "if youre really *that* desperate for all of our attention then just say it, whore" and nijis trying to be snarky and talk back but hes too busy drooling and begging for more to even formulate a sentence

this ends with one of them (coughichijicough) saying something like "if you don't want this embarrassment to happen to you again then pick a damn color, you slut." before they all leave him sweaty and reeking of sex..

he wears the most abhorntly mismatched outfit ever of red, green, pink, and black the next day btw :3cc

AND SCENE LMAO. sending my weekly ask and making it niji related bc i dont write abt him enough <3<3

You say you like my takes but I feel like yours are always so much better and so muchore thought out 🫣💜

Like, when you mentioned the color system my mind immediately went to niji practically wearing a rainbow outfit

At first he just wanted to mess with everyone, get them all on edge and feel like he has some control over them, like he's interested in all of them, but who does he want first? He's not gonna tell 🤭 they need to find out and fight for his time and attention 🤭

He didn't count on them not getting caught in his little trap tho and the result was exactly as you said

He learned his lesson and from then onwards decided to keep wearing his ridiculous rainbow outfits, a slut like him needs to be constantly put in his place and he'll make sure his siblings are doing their job on that 😌

(ok but I just have to say that the dynamics you wrote between niji and the four are everything I could've asked for?? Like, are you reading my mind bc from him choking on ichiji's dick to reiju riding his face and sanji riding him and yonji fucking him to next week??? I'm??? Perfectly curated to my very specific tastes, it felt like a five course meal 😋)

[hinamie]

Hi Hina! How are you? I just want to start off by saying I love your art 💞 it reminds me of cookies... or bread (does that make sense??) and i just wanna eat it up (please take it as a compliment 🙈)

I have a question... it might be a bit silly but I hope you don't mind. I've been trying to get back into art myself, used to love it as a kid but somewhere along the way I just stopped... I'm not sure what happened but it's something I still love doing and want to do. One problem I had tho (and still have) is that I don't have my own style? When I was little I would usually browse through art and if I see something I like I tried to recreat it, but in the end it looks exactly like the original art (the amount of times i had to convince ppl that I didn't trace it.... I really didn't)

I think it might be that I don't have an initial start process 🤔 when I start drawing I'd look at my reference and just put those shapes right in as I see it... there is no sketch or lineart just a final product. And now I don't even know where to start? Am i over thinking it and should I just go for it... or do you have any tips for a beginner?

I'm sorry this is kinda long and feels like a ramble. Please feel free to ignore ♥️

no need to apologize!! i’ve talked a lot about my thoughts on the art style fixation that a lot of people get trapped in, but the tl;dr of it is draw first and style will come naturally later so don't paralyze yourself into a slump by believing that you Can't draw without solidifying your art style

also smth i feel like i've mentioned before sdfsgfj but i was very much in the same boat of just copying art i liked 1:1 when I was younger so i definitely empathize with your struggle of not knowing how to start branching out into your own stuff . copying was good practice but i was definitely treating it like a crutch . but u know that’s where doing fanart really helped for me because since the characters Exist already i can treat them like little dolls fr me to dress move around, n it overall feel less like i’m stuck floundering completely trying to conjure up a 100% original piece. 

that being said, if fanart is something you’re into, maybe u can use that as a way 2 push yourself also! u can still look at references (in fact you Should look at references) but rather than copying what you see exactly, maybe u can try drawing character in a different pose, or from a different angle ! it doesn’t have to be anything super complex or elaborate, just get into the habit of not drawing exactly what you see so u slowly build confidence in your ability to compose your own piece. eliminates the “did you trace that” aspect also!

as for u saying u have a lack of start process, i rly do recommend sketching .  not only is it practice and a good warmup, it’s a visual brainstorm !! sketching is how u get ur ideas down on paper its like working with yourself to chip away the scraps n hone in on the idea u want to convey. plus with sketching there’s no pressure to make smth that looks “good”, the whole point is that it’s unpolished ! n i find what happens a lot of the time is i dont realize i even Have an idea until ive been sketching fr a bit and i realize Oh i can make smth out of this :) 

i hope smth here was helpful!! i'm very happy u like my art and i wish u the best of luck creating your own <3

[irrealisms]

every martyr in this jungle liner notes

fic here if you haven't read it!

okay so this first point is, like, barely a liner note for the fic proper. but did you know i have spent the past several weeks engrossed in the mcyt-trio polls. i have written two fics for it and made a web weave and i'm already planning a third fic for the finale next round as a thank you to the mods. shit's crazy. i rushed the editing timeline on every martyr in this jungle because i wanted to publish it before the time on this poll runs out. vote eclipse federation if you haven't already, with the disclaimer that it's got like 16 hours left as of me writing this, and keep an eye out for a bench trio fic coming soon to a blog and/or ao3 near you

anyway! fic time!

the most-used word in this fic that is not a name (the top three words are of course Vitalasy, Zam, and Subz) is again. this is on purpose. during editing i deleted an instance of "again" due to awkward phrasing and i had to double-check before doing so that it was still winning in Word Frequency or else i would've added it back in somewhere else. they have had this conversation before. maybe not in its details, but in its shape. they are having this conversation again, again, again.

vitalasy has so many issues around zam being afraid of him, even though (a) vitalasy hasn't actually done anything to anyone other than himself*, (b) zam is the one who killed vitalasy. some things i was drawing on for character inspiration here: the song hold no guns by death cab for cutie, the poem ON BEING RAISED ON FAIRY TALES IN WHICH YOU ARE THE MONSTER by a.m.h. *sorry for the planetlord erasure

zam...isn't actually as afraid of vitalasy as vitalasy thinks he is. zam is, like, a normal amount afraid of all social interaction, due to who he is as a person. he is an incredibly scared and jumpy guy, because he has an anxiety disorder, but he isn't actually particularly scared of vitalasy qua vitalasy anymore. vitalasy just...has issues from when he was.

relatedly: if this were from zam's pov, every time there is the slightest pause in the dialogue you'd get his internal monologue, which is approximately "oh God oh fuck this is going so terribly what do i say why am i so bad at talking to Vitalasy what do i do" the entire time. he's trying! and the tension on his end is much less "aaaa Vitalasy who I am scared of is here" and much more "WHY DO I KEEP SAYING THE WRONG THING. WHY AM I SO BAD AT THIS. OH NO HE'S EVEN SADDER NOW?????"

it did need to be vitalasy pov, though. as soon as i got the idea i knew it had to be vitalasy pov. i knew it had to be vitalasy pov because the previous one was zam pov and they're mirrors. here they are, at the grave, (again!) but now it's vitalasy standing vigil, and zam awkwardly showing up to put flowers on it.

the way it is still, constantly, about subz. vitalasy gets mad at zam for this, because zam cares so much more about subz than him, but he's just as bad--every two seconds he's thinking about subz's death, subz's note. the grave is the space between them. the grave is the only thing bringing them together. this is a bit of a continuation of the last fic. it is about zam and vitalasy but it is also about the ghost of subz.

the moon-representing-subz has Less of a presence in this one vs the last one, except for at the very end. the moon is rising. subz will be back soon. (well...it rises once zam leaves. this, too, is a metaphor.)

also related to the ghost of subz: i considered bringing up the fact that zam's been [hallucinating? haunted?] seeing subz everywhere. it didn't quite work but it's a fun little detail that is, btw, canon. canon in a "one-off line that was a little bit a joke" way but nonetheless canon enough to make me crazy about it.

the note about zam fidgeting a lot to the point of half-dancing around mapicc and spoke is about his lunar client emotes . and how he does them Even More Than Usual (which is already a lot) when he is around ppl who are also being silly w lunar client emotes <3

the thing where... they know each other. they know each other so well. they are, both of them, trying. this does not fix anything, it just makes it hurt worse.

sort of related to that and sort of related to zam's Fear (in general, of vitalasy) and sort of its own thing, zam is.. mm. zam's got certain expectations of people. and it's easy to assume they're about his [past issues in relationships] or even about [the person he is presently talking to] but they're...not, really. they're not zero about those things but they're not only about those things either. they are in large part about what zam, personally, thinks he deserves (punishment, death, bad things, etc). (occasionally when zam feels better about himself it's about how zam is a Victimhero Martyr and everyone else is a sort of prop in that, which vitalasy also has a huge complex about, but that's less relevant in this fic specifically than the...thinking he deserves for vitalasy to hurt him & on some level he wants vitalasy to hurt him as a weird self-harm-by-proxy thing & therefore vitalasy is probably going to hurt him)

the song the title comes from is Estate Sale Sign by the Mountain Goats. it's one of my #1 eclipse federation songs, tbh it's also one of my #1 s4 zam songs in general--i also am fond of it for team awesome. the title, though--that's all eclipse fed. they are all martyring themselves. they have all either banned themselves off or seriously considered it. they remember loving each other and now they still love each other but they are giving away that love. mm. [i remember when we loved each other day and night//and high above the water/the eagle spots the fish/every martyr in this jungle/is gonna get his wish]....man. also thinking about ["This is a song about, um, you may find it necessary to get rid of all your stuff, at some point."] and vitalasy burning all his stuff before his suicide. that's less relevant to the fic, though.

the series title is really funny to me. credit to angel qfitmc on tumblr for making this joke on hyperbeam chat and me cracking up every time i remember it. the thing is. while vitalasy and zam are being so fucking angsty and miserable about subz's suicide. subz IS playing dark souls. also elden ring. jump king. etc. bro killed himself in minecraft to become a variety streamer and i think that's beautiful. he's just chilling. this was of course epitomized when zam tried to bring him back but he was too busy playing dark souls and so he just Didn't. point is you don't have to stand at his grave and weep he is LITERALLY doing a pokemon nuzlocke run right now on twitch dot tv. unfortunately this is not stopping these two. from standing at his grave. and weeping

[t4tpumpkinduo]

Do you think one had a bad body image and would comfort the other in some way? Like, be it weight, their features (stunted wing growth, a broken horn), or generally being in the wrong body?

oh for sure! it deffo goes both ways as like uhh. cq cschlatt are both some of the few characters who have canonical nods to having eating disorders so that's its own whole thing.

cq insecurities obviously cuz of the. gestures shitty little wings that don't work fucking weak as hell in general. cschlatt insecurities weakness of her body and his issues w disability. and then getting weak as hell in general.

same w uhh transgendahisms. i've talked a bit abt their textually supported transmasc transfem swagger and mm. ithink cq isn't like. too hung up on anything? i think he gets mildly dysphoric at best, like. squirmy uncomfortable if he's called a girl in a context that isn't a guy being babygirled or him asking for it. but it's rlly not that serious, it's more a deeply uncomfortable inconvenience than anything like he could walk it off in a day. for cschlatt it super is the kill myself tournament with him competing for ultimate winner BUT. he does let his guard down abt it a Little in manburg, even though he doesn't fully accept it abt herself well into revival.

(like to be clear, i do think they both riff on eachother quite a bit, but it's considerably less targeted and malicious than ppl like to portray it as. 😭 literally everyone in the server is kind of mean and an asshole and pokes fun at eachother. ohhh q is so evillll schlatt is such a freakkkk omg. karl called quackity ugly and stupid and unlovable and i never see ppl posting that clip going owuwgh this is so chilling. bcs its rlly not that serious. 😭 they're playing toys q's fucking fine. and to be clear, these words Do affect characters, like the ableism schlatt faces or the body shaming tht q goes through but narratively speaking, the ppl saying stuff to them generally don't mean shit w the intent of severely harming anyone.)

that said though :] they do help eachothers out. cq tries to get schlatt to eat more where he can, drink some damn water for once, rest more. mb like kneads n massages at her to help w her aches whenever he can, or pulls people away when schlatt clearly needs a second due to the disorders without having the spotlight on something cschlatt clearly doesn't want to show. cq voice oh noooo i totally made extra food i guess we have to share oh nooo i totally made the bed super comfortable so now you have to lay down w me oh no ihave this leftover hot cider specifically to help w the circulation in your hands >___< guess you gotta help me now. and cschlatt grumbles and groans and whines and then does it anyways and bumps him abt it. fake ass emo i saw you wagging. i would never derail a post to coo abt beautiful adorable women (gripping the sink bloodshot eyes affirmation)

n fr cschlatt like. idk i think abt the stream where cq has retainers in and schlatt keeps poking fun at him and ribbing him and when someone else does, he starts nagging them? 😭 he starts telling them to fuck off and stop making fun of him so he like IS protective of him in that way. i also think he probably like. tries to help cq too, mb being very good at talking him down from paranoia or mental spirals, mb clears a space out whenever he's sick or outta it so he isn't near people who will freak him out, or makes excuses so they have to hole up doing v easy paperwork away from others so cq can rest and untense without having to watch his back and also not explain himself. #JUVIE #HELL

also their both bpdgirls so they're probably doing their best w that smile.

and again, i do think cschlatt does eventually open up a tiny bit abt girlisms. he wouldn't outright frame it as gender exploration, i think it'd be more of a. i won't unpack this but please call me this please and cq is more than happy to like coo and indulge him even though it completely flies over his head tht it could be anything more. ithink cschlatt would like. preen him or kinda. idk, it's probably harder fr him to be more earnest, more openly fond than cq who's so open smone should rlly stop him and or taze him but. like he'll hold his hand for comfort or bump him little ram style to say thank you instead of verbalizing it cuz his face is burning too hard to speak. quietly keeping eachother company during paperwork so neither of them get too bored or frustrated, or helping eachother w delusions or flashbacks even though they don't talk abt anything in detail. just a kinda quiet acceptance.

idk cpumpkins you will always be famous to me sorry abt the narrative and the dooming and all that. society if there wasn't an evil demon ghoul pitting two psychotic dudes against eachother, enabling their worst impulses, alienating them from their loved ones and then assisting them in their suicides so he could kidnap a child he's obsessed with

[destinyc1020]

Confession: I think this might be last post ever on tumblr, I think I might leave tumblr and social media in general. I feel like its become way too toxic and just not worth the effort nor do I feel happy using it, its just so menatally draining. In addition Im getting a little fed up of fandoms and stan culture, it used to be fairly a fun space but now it feels like a space where hatred, racism, toxicity have kinda infiltrated. Things like movies or just enjoying actors or whatever have become less and less interesting it no longer feels like celebrating but like we are in competition, like the discourse has become lets compare and be hurtful to others and their opinions and I just think fandoms have just been too invasive, too parasocial and I dont want to be in that space anymore.

I do want to say I enjoyed your blog and love how you try to bring as much joy and positivity to this space. You are one of few bright spots and keep doing what you do and thank you for cheering me up at the times I felt a little down . Its been fun but I think its time for me to bid a permanent farewell. All the best ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Awww..... I'm so sorry Anon. 😞

I hope you haven't left Tumblr already and are going to miss my response back to you. 🥺

Oh well.... I'll respond back anyway, no matter if you ever see this post or not. 🙃

First of all, thank you so much for your confession. I really appreciate your honesty on this topic, because I really do feel like fandom/stan culture has really gotten to a point that it's become exhausting in many fandoms... even when the celebrities themselves aren't even problematic! 🤷🏾‍♀️

It's become toxic for sure. 😞 And I, too, don't really appreciate the constant comparisons, the putting down of other actors just to raise up your faves, the spreading of lies and falsehoods in order to make other celebrities look bad, the recurring nonstop complaints about an actor's film career even though their career is going just fine, the immediate "cancel" culture just because someone isn't perfect 100% of the time, the jealousy and downplaying of another actor's talents just because it's not your fave in the role, the annoying film twitter debates, the use of RT as the almighty "gold standard" in a filming project's validity, the over-FOCUS of film critics and their reviews of certain films instead of just watching the film yourself and forming your OWN opinions, the constant bickering among various fandoms and stan wars, the overly-anxious fans who get nervous if their fave isn't in a new casting announcement every 2 months, etc.... The list goes on and on and on....

It's just exhausting.... 😫 And I feel like I see a lot of these comments bts because ppl can literally hide behind Anon on my blog and say whatever they want. 😩

So yea girl...I totally feel you. ❤️

I'm hoping you won't stay away forever, but I totally encourage and support you in taking a break away from here (or social media in general) if that's what you need to stay healthy and emotionally and mentally upbuilt. 🥰

If you ever feel comfortable and would like to come off of Anon and chat with me privately on here, or discuss this in greater detail, feel free to reach out and DM me! You'll always have a safe space. ❤️🥰

Wishing you all the best 🙏🏾🤗

[breadguybutfruity]

well hello there! i am back with my questions! I know my questions are strange but I really like your characters and their anatomy First thing's first: how much of an actual heavyweight toast guy is? (specifically in kg) 2-Do they eat bread for breakfast? Bacon maybe? 3-A better question: do they even need to eat or sleep? Or no? 4-Did toast guy and bread guy fight? im not saying in an argument, hands to hands, or hands to axe XD, If so, did toast guy spare bread guy? 5-Does toast guy go to the gym to get stronger to fight bread guy? because if so that would be funny 6-I really appreciate your work, and recently, i've come across a project of your's about some type of show and an animation you did of it, will you continue with it furthermore? because i've really liked the idea of it I am looking foward to your work, thank you for your attention and sorry for the walls and walls of text

wowie thas a lot!

I am not all that smart when it comes to numbers, honestly. Like i make guesses that are WAYY off soemthing. But 99.8 KG would be a good guess? It took a bit of research tbh on Quora and what not lmao

Though i am not entirely sure if some bread are alive while others arent, even eating non-alive bread (non-anthro) would be a bit morbid (PEA REFRNECE) so they probably skip up on that and eat, like rice or smth

Yes, they do need to sleep, and eat every now and then :P

Bread guy and Toast Guy did fight as kids when toast guy (SPOILERS) killed bread guy's parents they got into a small fight, but since they were young they couldnt hurt esch other much, so toast guy ran off eventually

Doesn't go to the gym but youd be surpsied what swinging around a giant fucking battle axe does to your gains 🔥 THE GRINDDDDDD

Oh, right! I dont wanna reveal too much (if theres any new ppl that dont know much about me) but, yes, The 1st Annual Breadys will be a big event, inspired by The Bloxxys, or the saxxys, except less of an awards ceremony and more of a big event, with multiple happenings and news! at first i wanted it to be 3d but- imma be real with you- 3d animation is hsrder than 2d, riggify is complex, but i do have a good model down. I am nor even sure when ill get to making it, becuase school is CRUSHING MY ASS rn, esspecially with the end of elementary school (im 8th grade btw, serbia has a diff. schooling system then america and what-not) so im having trouble fitting in time to work on my little thingies, but rest assured, its VERY amitious, so i may have to tone down my own expectations (and probably get to writing a script...)

[clarabowmp3]

i'm a timeless defender and the lines about the war and marrying another man aren't trivialising for me. they're about love against all odds. and yes, sometimes the situation is terrible like the war or arranged marriages. but she loves him so much that she doesn't care!!! if they met during the war or another terrible thing she would still love him because loving him is such a big part of her and it's stronger than common sense (it's smarter to be with a man who doesn't go to a war and it's smarter to just stick with your arranged husband). and when he's gone she's doing as much as she can - sends him letters and prays to god, because there's nothing else you can do in such terrible situation. and they were supposed to be together, to find each other in every possible scenario

idk if it makes sense to you and you're allowed to not like the choruses anyway, but i just wanted to clarify, because i have to defend my baby :(((

asjflflfdkd I SO get the defending your baby 🐣 soooo true bestie (I hope I didn’t sound overly mean in my post/here 🙈🙈)

And I totally get what you’re saying! Loving against the odds, despite the harsh circumstances etc and maybe I’m just listening to the song in the wrong way, but to me the song has a consistently romantic tone. So for eg it starts w the speaker in that antique shop, admiring all the photos etc and the part I don’t rlly like is how that tone gets carried over to the choruses, as if she’s romanticising the troubles of horrible times. Even the (non-problematic) line ‘and I’d die for you in the same way’ is still fine to me cuz she’s talking abt a fictional story, ie fictional suffering, and its non-specific and is just referencing a generic desperation to love

I think my main problem is w the 1944 chorus mainly because of how specific it is w the year and everything, meaning that she’s likely referencing the holocaust. While any war is a tragedy, this is especially terrible (to me) cuz of how it was a genocide of the entire Jewish population. So to focus on a specific part of the suffering that she has not and will likely never experience, the going off to war bit and leaving loved ones behind, and to then romanticise it (this may be subjective but I feel like there’s an underlying sense of ‘oh isn’t it so romantic, the thought of u heading out to danger without knowing if we’ll ever see each other again, but me desperately loving u miles away still?’) feels a lil icky to me

and yeaaa now that I think abt it i don’t mind the arranged marriage chorus as much, even though it still has that sense of romanticising someone else’s suffering that she/most ppl today haven’t experienced. But it’s not as serious as a literal genocide so it’s still okay, but just not my fav way of how she could have done it, esp since she’s so very talented and (I feel) could have communicated these same ideas in a less (for lack of a better word) “””exploitive””” way

And omg the last ‘chorus’ ie the part after the bridge is my ABSOLUTE fav part of the song, like all the emotion in the ‘in a crowded room etc etc….’ makes me go soooo feral esp cuz of that underlying intensity/desperation created by the prev choruses, which I think was done rlly well by the arranged marriage chorus but not so much the 1944 one (maybe it’s just me but when I listen to that bit I can’t help but think of her referencing a very specific tragedy that she did not suffer from which leaves a bit of a bad taste in my mouth)

But you’re right it’s such a pretty and warm song! I absolutely dieeee for the pre-choruses and the tender simplicity of them AHHHH it makes me feel all soft inside 🥺🥺 and maybe I’m just too serious abt the choruses LOL but these are thoughts I have listening to it :)))