#he's gotta keep exercising
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ratatatastic · 3 months ago
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the sauna robe era: a beautiful saga unfolding before us. we really have gone from "it was matthew's idea to wear them for pregame fits" to "sasha texted them team to make them wear the robes for the preds game"
nashville predators @ florida panthers postgame interview | 11.7.24 (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)
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DO YOU KNOW HOW FUNNY IT IS THAT BOTH RODDY AND MAFFHEW WENT oh the whole team all thought it was a prank but we still wore them anyways which somehow makes the robe walkin an exercise in trust and love that everyone passed with flying colours god this team is filled with lobe and friemdship
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also happy mackie did in fact get ribbed for taking the shirt option his team uncles sure are giving him the rookie experience and also "i wasn't sure if i was showing too much skin or not" on a team
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THAT WALKED IN LIKE THIS WITHOUT ANY SHAME. YEAH BUD I DONT THINK THATS A PROBLEM HERE.
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the robes are truly a hit amongst the team aka we dont have to use our brains and we just put on a robe its fantastic, mackie maffhew and nosey are on absolutely onboard unsurprisingly
and if you wondering oh what about paul when will we see him-
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the answer is a firm NO on both accounts so to those (me) who wanted to see an old man in a skimpy robe our dreams have to be crushed from the getgo but maybe if the streak goes long enough-
#aleksander barkov#matthew tkachuk#gustav forsling#evan rodrigues#mackie samoskevich#tomáš nosek#paul maurice#2425#the sauna robe saga™#beautiful and needs to be archived#also paul says that the boys didnt tell him they would come in robes for the preds game after finland#just that he “heard a rumour” about it#so sasha texted the team and our staff was out of the loop so i cant imagine the utter joy at seeing your players in their robes again#i also was talking to my friend and went “how likely is it that theyve washed those things? like between sauna i can see it”#“but the minute they exclusively wore it for walkins how likely are those things building up funk for the superstition”#and then i completely ruined it for myself because yeah i do think they dont wash em#i love the utter confusion on who started this#maffhew and sasha are one entity#sasha taking initiative to make the boys keep wearing the robes as if maffhew (superstitious man) didnt whisper it in his ear#“you gotta be some kind of superstitious at one point” ←i like seeing my teammates half naked. and also my husband told me to do so.#captain's privilege indeed#but also the whole “whos idea it was” does that particularly change on why some boys thought it was a joke#like if maffhew said it right theyd be more likely to think it was a prank but if sasha said it theyd be more likely to believe-#sorry im still on whos on team maffhews idea and team sashas idea#i will piece this together bit by bit by the power of my own delusion#sauna robes as an exercise in trust and love#but boooo old man join in the fun!!!!!#“nobody needs to see it-” WELL I DO#florida panthers
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thedawningofthehour · 3 months ago
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Angel is back to flying around maniacally and clipping our heads with his wing as he flies by.
I was getting a little worried, he lost a bunch of flight feathers during his molt (mostly just his flight feathers-it was actually a fairly light molt, just for some reason like half his flight feathers decided they were done all at once)(this isn't abnormal for him, he's the king of weird molts. when we first got him all his tail feathers fell out during his baby molt and he just looked like a tiny dipshit for a while) and you could tell it was a lot harder for him to fly. He started walking everywhere or screaming at us to come carry him like some spoiled bird prince. But his new feathers came in and he still wasn't flying around like he used to.
Turns out he was just being lazy. Why fly when a human will carry you everywhere?
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lazer-screwdriver · 1 year ago
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Adult Rory should retain the ability to sword fight specifically because he manages to talk his parents into getting him a fake sword and practices (and practices and practices). He tries to pass it off as muscle memory and it works on the Doctor but Amy knows, even if she pretends she doesn’t.
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anneapocalypse · 1 year ago
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My shipping headcanons are just making the messy Scion dynamic out here better (read: worse) because since Ariane arrived, she and Urianger cannot stop smiling uncontrollably every time they look at each other, and Thancred and Y'shtola have to stand there and see that and not gag.
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6qubed · 3 months ago
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bold of you to assume these kids are normal
Enough psychoanalysing why people have kinks. We need to psycholanalyse why they don't. Like you don't enjoy getting tied up? Clearly your tumultuous upbringing has given you a patholgical need to be in control at all times. Don't like fauxcest? That's because your petite-bourgeois class background means you view the nuclear family as a pure and sacred institution, automatically reviling anything that undermines or subverts this. Not into piss? That's easy; you're scared of the piss gnomes
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musical-chick-13 · 5 months ago
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I really don't want to make this a political blog, but there is. A big difference between "Neither of the major parties are on board with my values"/"I have criticisms of everyone in the political sphere"/"the political system is inherently flawed, I wish we had better candidates to pick from" (or even, "Wow, there is so much on both sides that really sucks! No one here is a particularly great person!")<-all of which are fair and things I actually do agree with, and "Both sides are, in every single way, on every single issue, literally completely the exact same."
#if you say the second one I think you are stupid. sorry.#is2g if That Guy gets elected again I am never forgiving any of you who have said this#He! Will! Be! Worse!!! On!!!! Literally!!!!!! Every single issue!!!!!!!!!! Including and Especially the ones you care about!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#voting is not meaningless shut the fuck uppppppp#if voting were meaningless then protesting would ALSO be meaningless yes? but y'all (rightfully!!!!!) think we should keep protesting#(and I agree!!!! we SHOULD keep protesting!!!!!!!!!!! a shit-ton!!!!!!!! about everything!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)#which suggests that you don't actually think both parties are the same and equally immovable. but it DOES suggest that you#want to absolve yourself from having to do literally the bare minimum#no voting won't magically fix everything no shit. but I have not seen ONE pro-voting leftist say that we stop at voting. EVERYTHING#I have seen (and WHAT I!! AM ALSO!!!! SAYING!!!!!!) is that voting against That Guy is the FIRST STEP. and then we keep working afterward!#yes. it sucks. I hate that this is where we are I hate that every single time it's We Have No Great Choices I HATE IT TOO. JUST AS MUCH AS#EVERYBODY ELSE. but I still think I have a duty to the people whose lives will be saved by ensuring a Certain Guy doesn't get the presidenc#like someone will call me a neolib imperialist shill or something probably but I think if there's a guy who wants to be a dictator#and strip the rights of literally every marginalized group (including those who live in countries the US does foreign policy with or#insists on exercising influence over) then making COMPLETELY SURE THAT DOESN'T GET INTO POWER is the moral decision here.#if you're gonna come on this post and scream that I don't have An Accurate Grasp Of The Situation then save it. I'm not interested and I#will block you. if you hate the fact that I'm going to grit my teeth and vote for a democrat for the sole purpose of making sure T**** can'#hurt people again then guess what you don't have to ever speak to me again you can just leave.#ugh I gotta go to my SECOND doctor appointment now. WHICH I WILL NOT HAVE INSURANCE FOR!!!! IF HE GETS ELECTED!!!!!!!! AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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loonylupinblack3 · 6 months ago
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Shy
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader
Warnings: swearing, suggestive content
Summary: you have a crush on a certain co-worker but are too shy to tell him. so someone does it for you.
Word count: 2.6k
A/N: THIS WAS A REQUEST BUT WHEN I TRIED TO REPLY TO IT IT DIDNT LET ME AND DELETED IT INSTEAD (also jean is a meddling little shit in this and u just gotta accept that)
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You watched him from across the hall greedily, eyes drinking in his panting form, the sweat coating his chest and back, the strained muscles underneath his wife beater tank top. Logan was a sight for sore eyes on a normal day, but when he was working out? He had you practically rabid for him.
You were sitting on one of the benches, a forgotten book in your hand you hadn’t glanced at in ages, preferring to treat yourself to the image of Logan Howlett hot and sweaty while working out. There were a few other X-men exercising alongside him, and others on the bench with you hanging out so you weren’t too out of place, but everyone could see the way you looked at Logan.
Everyone but Logan himself.
You’d joined the team a few months ago- 5 to be exact- after whispers had gotten to you of a safe space for mutants. Having hidden your true genetic code from everyone else in your life, you jumped at the chance of not having to hide anymore. With your unique skill set too- the ability to formulate and present illusions- you were an exceptional addition to both the X-men and the teaching staff.
You thrived at the X mansion. The kids loved you, you got along well with your fellow teammates, and you had suggested and helped act on several improvements to both the school and the team. You were a good addition, and the other mutants were grateful to have you there.
You’d just had one problem when acclimating to the school. Your teeny, tiny, incredibly small crush on your fellow professor, Logan Howlett. At first you really had thought it would be no big deal. Just a co-worker you had noticed was slightly attractive. That’s all. Other mutants had told you he was hard to talk to, and had a gruff, moody personality, so you’d thought the attraction would soon fade.
Unfortunately it had only grown. The first time you’d realised, shit, this might actually be a problem, was when you’d gone to get a glass of water in the middle of the night and found Logan leaning against the kitchen counter, shirtless, with a beer in hand.
You’d been so flustered, eyes continuously betraying you and straying to his chest that you’d blurted out the first thing that came to your head, “how’d you get beer in here?”
Logan had chuckled, observing you as he brought the beer bottle to his mouth for a sip. “Why? Want some Sweetheart?”
You’d felt heat rise to your face at the nickname, shaking your head. “No, I was just curious.”
Logan stared at you a second longer, eyes trailing your figure appreciatively before shrugging. “Your loss. And unfortunately I can't tell you how I got it. Gotta keep it a secret lest Xavier finds out.”
You were too flustered to argue so you’d just nodded, mumbled a quick goodbye, and quickly walked back to your bedroom. You hadn’t even gotten your glass of water. 
There had been other similar instances over the past few months. Logan just had a way to get under your skin, to cause your heart to go into cardiac arrest every time he looked at you, which made it hard to conceal your ever growing crush on him from literally everyone. Even your students knew about it, or at least had their suspicions, and you prayed they were too intimidated by Logan to ask him any questions about it. The last thing you needed was to get humiliated and have to pack up all your things and leave the home you had just created for yourself because you could no longer look any of your co-workers or students in the eyes again.
Especially Logan.
Things had escalated until you could barely look Logan in the eye anymore, and actively avoided him at all costs. The last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself in front of him, and though it was unpleasant you’d decided the best course of action was just to steer clear of him altogether.
Still, you allowed yourself some enjoyment, like watching Logan workout from afar while in a room full of people. The onlookers weren’t the best, but it was better than being alone with him when who knows what would happen.
“Like what you see?”
Storm’s voice dragged you out of your ogling, and you turned to her with a sheepish expression. “Maybe.”
She gave you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows. You ignored it, because you’d heard her suggestions many times before and found they didn’t align with your own interests.
“Go and tell him how you feel.”
And embarrass yourself when he inevitably rejects you? No thanks. You were more comfortable with keeping your feelings suppressed, continuously shoving them down, building a brick wall between them and you, to permanently keep them out. Yet for every single brick you added somewhere below you could feel three more being punched out, slowly destroying your barricades bit by bit. 
Your eyes strayed back to Logan, like they always did, yet surprise striked you when you couldn’t find him. Your eyes scanned the room like a man on a mission, only to realise too late Logan was heading towards you, a towel in his sweaty grip.
He greeted Storm with a nod before his gaze zeroed in on you, and you mentally added another brick to your shield, determined to keep him out this time. 
“Y/n,” he greeted, eyes never straying from your face.
You looked down, fidgeting with your hands. “Logan,” and, because you were incredibly weak willed- “did you have a good workout?”
You swear as you looked back up at him you saw the remnants of a smile on his face, but it was gone in the blink of an eye so you couldn’t be completely sure. You don’t think Logan had ever smiled at you, and you felt the bricks within you start to wobble.
“It was alright,” he said curtly, ever the man of few words. He lingered though, as if debating to say something, when it came out anyway. “I’d like it if you joined us next time.”
You felt your heartbeat increase. You felt the jump and the rapid incline as you processed what he said, your mind swimming.
“Me? But I just do illusions… I don’t have a fight worthy mutation.”
“Which is exactly why you should workout. Build your strength so you don’t need to rely on others and can trust your own body to do the job, regardless of mutations.”
It was the most you think Logan had ever spoken to you all at once, and you were suddenly feeling very dizzy. Logan wanted you to workout with him, to spend time with him. Could you imagine? Standing alongside him while he panted. Sparring and ending up underneath him, his entire body weight crushing you between him. It was almost too much to think about.
You cleared your throat, trying to clear your mind of unhelpful distractions, and found your eyes glued to Logan as he brought the towel to wipe the sweat from his throat, his muscles straining right in front you as he reached behind the back of his neck, wiping the sheen of sweat from his body.
You were staring, you knew that, but you just couldn’t find it in you to look away. It was a godly sight, Logan in front of you, sweaty and staring right at you. How were you supposed to look away?
“Uhm,” you mumbled when Storm stepped on your foot. If she’d noticed your ogling Logan certainly must have, and you felt heat rise to your face at the thought. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll think about it.”
Logan looked at you again, really looked at you, before nodding, slinging the towel over a shoulder. “I hope to see you there.”
And with that he walked away, and you felt the bricks tumbling, clattering away inside you, and you could do nothing to stop it until you felt bare and vulnerable, watching the man walk away with the realisation this might be more than just a silly crush.
You couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let yourself go too far, even though you could already feel yourself falling. You needed stronger defences, more barricades and walls. And if that meant more space between you and Logan, more avoiding and distance, well, you’d do it. You couldn’ let yourself go past the point of no return with him. You couldn’t.
Your avoidance of Logan had continued ten-fold. Whenever he entered a room you would exit. You would no longer spend time watching him workout or teach or do anything, really. You stayed as isolated from him as possible, and when you couldn’t you stayed silent, eyes fixed ahead of you rather than on him.
Others had noticed. You heard the rumours, whispers of a fight, a break up that occurred between the two of you. It was laughable, the idea that you and Logan had ever been together in the first place.
It was working though, or so you thought. You could feel your shields and barricades strengthening each day, and you continued to build them higher and higher, in the hopes you would eventually not need to avoid Logan, for he would no longer have any effect on you.
Until then you were determined to avoid Logan and spend as little time with him as possible. Unfortunately Logan did not share that sentiment.
You’d just finished up a class, instructing your students to have their homework prepared for next lesson and watched them all file out the door when Logan entered. It was so unexpected you hadn’t a chance to leave before he was upon you, his figure towering over your frame. His arms were crossed and he watched you with a frown on his face, yet you weren’t afraid of it anymore. Sure, you had been originally, but soon you’d discovered behind the frown was usually no ill intent, so you weren’t nervous.
Well you were, extremely so, but not about that.
“Oh, Logan,” you managed, swallowing thickly. “What are you doing here?”
Logan crossed his arms. “We need to talk.”
You winced. “We do?”
He let out an aggravated huff. “LIsten, I don’t know what I did to make you so pissed at me but it can’t be this bad-”
You interrupted him, confused. “Wait, what?”
He sent you a look. “You. Being mad at me. I don’t know why.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
Logan paused, looking at you with a scrutinising gaze. “Yes you are.”
You scoffed at him wrongly telling you how you felt. “No, I’m not.”
“So why are you ignoring me? And don’t say you haven't-” Logan said, noticing you’d opened your mouth to defend yourself. “I know you are. You have been avoiding me for weeks, and if you’re not angry at me I can see no other fathomable reason for why you’re acting like I have the plague.”
I frowned. “You noticed that?”
Logan scoffed. “Of course I noticed it. You don’t even come to training anymore, not even to watch like you used to. Why?”
You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. You obviously couldn’t tell him the real reason, otherwise all the hard work you’d done would be for nothing because you’d end up humiliated and rejected anyway, but you knew Logan could tell when someone was lying from their pulse spiking, and yours certainly would if you lied about this.
You grappled for something to say, anything, to shake him off your trail. “I have to prepare for another class-”
“You’re not preparing for shit until you tell me what’s wrong,” Logan practically growled. “I can stay here all day Bub.”
Well shit. You didn’t really have another choice. You were going to have to tell him about your feelings for him. Literally anything else would have been better. Anything else.
At that exact moment Jean walked into your classroom and relief bloomed in your chest. You were saved, you were safe. You could use Jean as an excuse and-
“She was avoiding you because she has the hots for you, Logan. Something every single person in this school knows except you.”
Well, not anything else apparently.
Logan let out a noise of surprise and looked at you, but your eyes were glued to Jean, horror and betrayal painted on your face. She mouthed ‘your welcome’ and left. What the fuck? Was that the only reason she entered, to butt into your private conversation?
“Y/n. Was what Jean said true?”
You opened your mouth and then closed it, looking like something akin to a gaping fish. “Define truth.”
Logan narrowed his eyes at you, not at all amused, and his silence forced you to continue.
You sighed, preparing yourself for the inevitable heartbreak to come. “Yes, it’s true, alright, but I never intended to act on it and I won’t act on it so you’re fine-”
“Who said I didn’t want you to act on it?”
You started. “W-what?”
Logan took another step until your chest was suddenly pressed against his. “Did I stutter?”
You felt like you were going to stutter if you said anything, so you sort of just… stood there. Waiting. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. Some clarity maybe?
Certainly not Logan grabbing you by the waist and kissing you, so firm and confident you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace. His hands were grabbing your waist, finding the dips in your curves and squeezing there, grabbing them and tugging you towards him.
His lips dragged across yours, adding an air of desperation to the kiss. You couldn’t help but bring your hand up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking his bearded jaw as he kissed you deeper, seeming for all the world like he was never going to stop. You were powerless to stop it, and you found you didn’t even want to. Your walls were crumbling and you gladly let them if it meant you could continue kissing this man.
Logan hefted you up onto your desk and you let out a gasp, muffled by Logan’s lips. He smiled into the kiss anyway, amused by your surprise, and placed his hands on your knees to part them so he could get between your legs. 
You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, something he liked if the pleased grunt from his throat was anything to go by. His kissing became more fevoured, like he wanted to devour you, and you gladly let yourself drown in him.
That was until the school bell rang, startling you both out of the kiss. Or rather, just you, because Logan seemed content to move to your neck when your lips stopped responding.
“Logan,” you murmured. “I have a class to teach.”
Logan made an angry grunt and continued placing open mouthed kisses to your collarbone. You laughed and gently pushed him away, causing the man to growl and look at you with such irritation you’d think you interrupted his wedding or something.
“I’m busy here,” Logan said.
You had to physically swallow the breathless sigh threatening to escape your lips, instead saying, “we can continue this later.”
“We will continue this later.”
You smiled, almost shyly, which was ironic considering he was still between your legs. “Yeah?”
Logan moved forward so he could whisper into your ear. “Now that I have you Bub, I ain’t ever letting go.”
He pulled back and your smile widened, making a mental note to thank Jean when you next saw her. “I can live with that.”
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checkeredflagggs · 2 months ago
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Finally
Pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader
summary: lando’s girlfriend finally graduates from college and comes along on for this amazing season
a/n: well…this didn’t start out as a girlfriend piece…but it got away from me and did like 12 different 180° that never quite led back to the same direction…
a/n2: what a season! 2024 was my first season as an f1 fan and wow!! It was crazy and wild and wonderful and enough for it to gain another lifelong fan
a/n3: fuck McLaren but congrats to Lando and Oscar
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papaya_girl
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liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, and 823,445 others
tagged: landonorris
papaya_girl: gotta soak up all the time with him as i can since he’s gonna leave me all alone to go…let me check…do his job?? Idk what that’s all about
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user1: you’re just checking off the boyfriend date list aren’t you??
↳user2: no but for real…an aquarium date, home cooking, beach date, and an art exhibit?
↳user1: be real landonorris did you just google good date ideas?
oscarpiastri: you trust him to cook??
↳papaya_girl: i was supervising very closely
↳oscarpiastri: still…
↳landonorris: oi! Have a little faith
↳oscarpiastri: I’ve seen you burn water trying to make insta noodles
↳papaya_girl: oh good lord
↳landonorris: that was ONE TIME
↳oscarpiastri: it was not.
↳papaya_girl: lando…
user3: god to be them… I wouldn’t leave you alone like this!
landonorris: easy solution! Drop out of school and come with me!
↳papaya_girl: no!
↳landonorris: but then we wouldn’t be apart anymore!
↳maxfewtrell: don’t listen to him. One of you has to be educated
↳landonorris: oi!
↳papaya_girl: 😂😂
user4: i saw them! I was the one to take that picture of them at the Van Gogh exhibit!
↳user5: seriously!
↳papaya_girl: thank you for sending it to me! You’ve got an eye for good photos
↳user4: oh my god thank you!!
↳landonorris: all photos of you are amazing because they have you in them!
↳papaya_girl: cheesy
↳user4: ok you’re both stunning but on my comment thread?
alex_albon: you can keep him? I don’t think mclaren actually need him tbh
↳landonorris: HEY!
↳mclaren: sorry papaya_girl but it’s our turn with him now
↳papaya_girl: …I guess I can loan him out for a couple of weeks but you gotta feed him and let him get his exercise and come summer he’s mine again!
↳mclaren: pinky promise!
↳landonorris: WHAT?? This makes me sound like I’m a dog!!!
↳mclaren: we got your briefing packet and we’ll follow it to a T
↳landonorris: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? papaya_girl?? mclaren???
↳papaya_girl: I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this…
papaya_girl
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tagged: landonorris
papaya_girl: I’m unloved... Carelessly I’ve been abandoned…when will I find someone who loves me like that one guy loves his orange car…
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user6: god i volunteer
↳landonorris: nope! Try again
landonorris: I didn’t abandon you! Say the word and I’ll have plane tickets and an uber waiting for you
↳papaya_girl: I’ve never been so alone…it’s like I can hear his voice still…
↳oscarpiastri: that’s a haunting if I ever heard of one. You should call someone about that
↳landonorris: stop telling people i abandoned you! Or letting people think I’ve died!
↳papaya_girl: it’s like he’s still here, with me…
↳user7: girl I think you might be stressing Lando into an early heart attack
↳landonorris: SHE IS
user8: yes yes yes, you’ve been abandoned and left alone but girl…1) what are you studying and 2) your handwriting is so pretty!
↳papaya_girl: well I’m conflicted on answering cause on one hand you are minimizing my trauma but on the other hand that’s a nice compliment…
↳user9: (respectfully??)
↳papaya_girl: I guess that works… creative writing!
↳user10: damn…pretty and smart
↳papaya_girl: you know it!
↳landonorris: AND ALL MINE! BACK OFF 🤺🤺🤺
alex_albon: we wouldn’t abandon you papaya_girl
↳lilymhe: no we wouldn’t! We’ve got 2 hands for a reason
↳papaya_girl: packing my bags literally right now
↳landonorris: NO! BACK! OFF!! SHES MINE
↳papaya_girl: there it is again! His voice haunts me…
↳landonorris: I’m literally breaking down right now
maxverstappen1: I know some people. I can introduce you if you’d like?
↳papaya_girl: I’ll think about it!
↳landonorris: I’m going to run you over maxverstappen1. Stop trying to steal my girlfriend
↳maxverstappen1: mclaren you seeing this?
↳mclaren: 🧐🧐🧐
↳landonorris: THEY KEEP TRYING TO TAKE MY GIRLFRIEND
↳mclaren: don’t worry max, he’s got pr training scheduled in the morning
↳landonorris: I do??
↳mclaren: yup!
↳landonorris: fuck
↳maxverstappen1: 😂😂
user11: dude can’t catch a break…his girlfriend thinks he’s gone and his friends are helping her move on…
↳landonorris: THERE! WILL! BE! NO! MOVING! ON!!
↳landonorris: IM! NOT! DEAD! OR! GONE!!
↳user11: …ok there dude. Take a deep breath…
landonorris
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tagged: papaya_girl
landonorris: SHES DONE! AND NOW SHES MINE!!
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user12: omg congrats!
↳user13: man oh man i know that feeling all too well
oscarpiastri: congrats papaya_girl! Now hurry up and join us — I can’t stand his moping anymore
↳landonorris: you muppet! I don’t mope!
↳papaya_girl: you don’t miss me??? 🥺🥺🥺
↳landonorris: of course I do!
↳oscarpiastri: so you do mope
↳papaya_girl: awwww
↳landonorris: you’re not allowed to gang up on me yet! You’re not even here!
↳papaya_girl: soon! I’ve just got a couple of things to wrap up before I leave!
↳landonorris: what??
↳papaya_girl: sorry baby
user14: season of graduates!
↳user15: woohoo!
↳papaya_girl: we did it! 🎉🥳
↳user15: yay!
↳user14: it was definitely iffy for a while there…
↳papaya_girl: you know it 😭
alex_albon: you mean we have to wait even longer before lando stops moping???
↳landonorris: I DONT MOPE. LEAVE ME ALONE
↳alex_albon: dude you mope like crazy
↳landonorris: no I don’t!
↳alex_albon: you do
↳oscarpiastri: you do
↳lilymhe: you do
↳charles_leclerc: you do
↳maxfewtrell: you do
↳maxverstappen1: you do
↳carlossainz55: you do
↳mclaren: you do
↳papaya_girl: you do 🤭🥰
user16: did lando really fly out in the middle of a triple header just to watch his girl graduate??
↳oscarpiastri: he made it very clear he wasn’t going to miss it…especially when it got moved to a Tuesday for some reason
↳papaya_girl: gotta love faulty plumbing I guess
↳oscarpiastri: if you say so…
↳landonorris: and me??
↳oscarpiastri: what?
↳landonorris: not you. papaya_girl??
↳papaya_girl: yes I love you too
↳landonorris: 🥰😍🥰😍🥰🥰😍🥰🥰😍😍🥰
↳papaya_girl: 😘🧡
↳user16: oh he’s down bad…
papaya_girl
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papaya_girl: thanks to mclaren for giving my boyfriend another round of pr training! And thanks to Oscar for stealing his phone!
view all comments
user17: did you get mclaren to give him pr training just so you could secretly travel to meet up with him?
↳papaya_girl: yup!
↳user17: iconic
oscarpiastri: gotta admit — it was hard getting that phone away from him. He had a damn grip on it
↳papaya_girl: he always does!
↳papaya_girl: and it might have been partly my fault? I was texting him at the time…
↳oscarpiastri: 😑😑😑
↳papaya_girl: 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️
↳oscarpiastri: need I remind you this was your plan?
↳papaya_girl: so I love texting my boyfriend…sue me
↳oscarpiastri: 🙄🙄
user18: god I’m so so so ready for papaya_girl track fits…
↳user20: I’m ready for the nonstop videos of them just 😍😍😍 at each other while ignoring everyone around them
↳papaya_girl: ok let’s roll it back a little…
↳user18: oops
↳papaya_girl: my fits will be comfortable and I do Not ignore other people while with lando
↳papaya_girl: I just have eyes for lando only
↳user20: iconic
↳user18: oh mood
↳papaya_girl: uhhh back off? He’s mine
alex_albon: oh thank god I don’t know how many more times I could listen to him moping and missing you
↳carlossainz55: you thought you had it bad??
↳oscarpiastri: oh I’ll beat you both in this fight
↳maxfewtrell: really?
mclaren: anything for you girl!
↳papaya_girl: 😘🧡💋
↳mclaren: ☺️☺️☺️
papaya_girl
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papaya_girl: omg i forgot how much orange is not my color…
view all comments
user21: oh my god did you see lando when she appeared from around the corner???
↳user22: ohhhh the way he just slammed on the brakes and stared at her…
↳user21: their run towards one another is gonna be a staple on booktok for years!
↳user23: she’s stronger than me cause if my man looked at me like that he would NOT be going on to media duties afterwards…
↳user21: oh that’s a mood
user24: the way he dragged her around on his media duties…😍😍
↳user25: ok you say he dragged her but 100% she had the same tight ass grip on his hand
↳user24: oh yeah no — no one was gonna get her to leave his side today
↳papaya_girl: they were not!
landonorris: it’s papaya love and you look amazing in it! Especially when it’s got the #4 on it!
↳papaya_girl: ok I know you’re trying to be sweet but ORANGE is not my color and not even your number is enough to save it
↳landonorris: 🥺🥺🥺
↳papaya_girl: oh don’t worry baby I’ll still wear your number but it’ll be in a nice cool black
↳landonorris: good! Let everyone know you’re mine
↳papaya_girl: always baby
↳landonorris: 🥰🥰🥰
↳oscarpiastri: this is what I have to look forward to now isn’t it?
↳danielricciardo: from experience? Yes
↳carlossainz55: all the time. You won’t be able to get away from it
↳landonorris: you muppets! Go away
user26: god I need me a man that looks at me the way Lando looks at his girl…
↳user27: yeeesss
↳papaya_girl: never settle for anything less!
↳user26: got it 🫡
↳papaya_girl: but also return that sediment — don’t let him carry the entire relationship
↳user27: yes ma’am 🫡
mclaren: 🥺
↳papaya_girl: admin i love you but orange is not it
↳mclaren: 😢
↳papaya_girl: sorry not sorry
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papaya_girl: HE DIDIT!! MY BOY IS A RACE WINNER! P1 BABY!!!!!!!!!! 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
view all comments
user28: GO LANDO!!
↳user29: Nowins no longer!
oscarpiastri: congrats man! Fantastic drive!
↳papaya_girl: MY BOU IS ARACE WINNER NKW!!!
↳oscarpiastri: I know. I was there. I’m still there in fact
↳papaya_girl: HE DID ITTTTT!!!!!! 🧡🧡🧡
↳user30: girl is going through it too 😂
user31: that’s our man!!! Woohoo!!
↳papaya_girl: MY MAN ONLY! MY RACE WJNNER!!! BACK OFF 🤺🤺🤺
↳user31: backing off 😂😂 congrats Lando!!
↳papaya_girl: P1!!!!!!!
maxverstappen1: phenomenal drive today man!
↳papaya_girl: P1!!! MY MAN LANDO!!
↳maxverstappen1: yes he did get p1 😂
charles_leclerc: glad to share the podium with you today lando!
↳papaya_girl: HES ON TOP LIKE HE DESERVES!!!
carlossainz55: knew you could do it! ¡Felicidades!
↳papaya_girl: HE DID IT!!
landonorris: P1!!! I FUCKING DID IT!
↳papaya_girl: YOU DID IT LOVE
↳landonorris: couldn’t have done it without you love
↳papaya_girl: YOU ABSOLUTELY COULD HAVE BUT DAMN AM I GLAD TO BE HERE FOR IT!!
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papaya_girl: P2 or P20, you’re P1 in my heart 🧡
But for real, my love, it’s been something else to be able to watch you race week after week and there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be! June is over and next is Silverstone!
view all comments
landonorris: that’s so cheesy
↳papaya_girl: I could always leave to start my masters program early??
↳landonorris: nope! I’m gonna handcuff you to me so you can never leave me again
↳papaya_girl: well that’s kinky
↳landonorris: …that’s not a no!
↳maxfewtrell: it is from me. Keep that shit to yourselves!
↳papaya_girl: just say you’re jealous he’s mine and move on
↳landonorris: 🧡🧡
oscarpiastri: fantastic first half of the season so far Lando! We’ll keep pushing
↳landonorris: you know it!
↳papaya_girl: congrats to you too osc on the amazing season so far!
↳oscarpiastri: thanks papaya_girl
user32: GO LANDO!!
↳papaya_girl: WOOHOO!
↳user33: Will you let him know how many fans are supporting him this season??
↳papaya_girl: he absolutely knows but I’ll be sure to tell him again!
↳user32: thank you!
papaya_girl
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papaya_girl: Congratulations Lewis on your historic win today — Phenomenal race! I was glad I was here to see it 🧡
And congrats to my love on P2!
view all comments
user34: it was great to watch!
↳user35: god I’ve missed him on the top step…
↳user34: oh my god same
landonorris: but what about me??
↳papaya_girl: 1) sorry but are you 7 time world champion Lewis Hamilton?
↳landonorris: …I guess not 🥺🥺🥺
↳papaya_girl: 2) scroll through the rest of my page?? It’s literally a digital shrine to you
↳landonorris: it is!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰
↳oscarpiastri: oh boy…
↳papaya_girl: I know
↳user36: we don’t! Share with the class please
↳papaya_girl: instead of mopey now he’ll be all cheery and lovey
↳landonorris: yes!!! 🥰😍🧡
↳user37: I mean if you don’t want him…
↳papaya_girl: Back! 🤺 Off! 🤺 He’s! 🤺 Mine! 🤺
lewishamilton: thank you papaya_girl
↳papaya_girl: oh my god Lewis Hamilton replied to me!
↳landonorris: you never act like with me???
↳landonorris: 🥺🥺🥺
↳papaya_girl: sorry but are you 7 time world champion Lewis Hamilton?
↳maxverstappen1: 😂😂😂
charles_leclerc: congrats Lewis!
user38: god I can’t imagine…how ungrateful she is, leaving her boyfriend to be an afterthought???
↳user39: right??? Like almost an entire post dedicated to one of his competitors and he’s just an afterthought
↳papaya_girl: stay crying about it! Lando knows how much he means to me
↳papaya_girl: and believe me — he knows how incredible I thought he was today 🥵😉🤤
↳landonorris: my girl!!
↳user40: the embodiment of “I’ve got your flower baby”
carlossainz55: ¡Felicidades!
georgerussell63: great race Lewis! Great push today — let’s keep the momentum going!
papaya_girl
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papaya_girl: A difficult day today but I’m so so so proud of you my love — best believe this good karma will come around again.
And congratulations to Oscar on his first race win!! 2 orange boys getting their first wins this season!!
view all comments
user41: lowkey difficult to listen to but I did like watching these boys win
↳user42: oh I know. I was stressing and yelling at the tv. My family kept telling me to calm down
oscarpiastri: thanks papaya_girl. And thanks again for the drinks and the congrats cupcake 🧁
↳landonorris: you got a cupcake for your win?? papaya_girl where was mine???
↳papaya_girl: be so for real right now
↳landonorris: I want a cupcake!!
↳papaya_girl: you want a cupcake?? Over the best head of your life??
↳oscarpiastri: ok. I’m gonna shut down this conversation right now
↳papaya_girl: real quick — on the record he wants a cupcake more than sex
↳landonorris: ok let’s not go that far
↳oscarpiastri: let’s not go anywhere. Stop.
user43: mclaren I am in your walls and when I catch you…
↳user44: I know a guy
↳papaya_girl: mildly concerned right now, not gonna lie
↳user44: …he’s a nice guy??
↳papaya_girl: not the vibes I’m getting! Hope this helps
↳user43: 😂😂
landonorris: it papaya!! It’s literally in your name right now!!
↳papaya_girl: it’s still ugly! And not my color!
lewishamilton: great race guys 🖤
↳papaya_girl: oh my god he’s replying to me again 😍😍
↳landonorris: he was congratulating me!!
↳papaya_girl: but he was replying to me!
↳lewishamilton:😂
landonorris
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papaya_girl: this has been such a whirlwind year my love — I’m glad that we were able to take a few weeks to ourselves (and to Taylor Swift) to relax and decompress.
Now onto the second half of the season!!
comments have been restricted
landonorris: this past few weeks have been some of the best of my life baby and it all has to do with you. Best decision I ever made was to ask you out 🧡🧡
↳papaya_girl: awwwww 🥰🥰🥰 easiest yes of my life (ignoring how fast I said yes when you asked if I wanted to go to the eras tour…)
↳landonorris: yes I’m aware I come second to Taylor Swift
↳papaya_girl: noooooooo you’re my favorite person ever (but like if she asked??)
↳landonorris: 🙄🙄🙄 (I get it)
landonorris: and I promise you I’ll make you proud this upcoming second half
↳papaya_girl: my love…
↳papaya_girl: you already do.
↳papaya_girl: I can’t put into words how proud I already am of you
↳papaya_girl: you make me proud every time you get into that car and chase your dreams
↳papaya_girl: I’m never not proud of you
↳landonorris: 🥹😭
↳landonorris: brb gonna go cry my eyes out right now
↳papaya_girl: nooooo come back and let’s cuddle
↳landonorris: …ok 🥺🥺🥺
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papaya_girl: OH! MY! GOD! CONGRATULATIONS!! AGAIN!! CAUSE MY LOVE??? YOU’RE A 2 TIME F1 RACE WINNER!!!
It’s been the time of my life watching you this year and to see the first 2 (of many!) of your wins have been some of the best moments of my life.
Congratulations my love — you deserve this and so much more
view all comments
user48: OH MY GOD I WAS THERE AND IT WAS INSANE
↳user49: oh my god I bet…Lestappen post race we’re going through it
↳user48: god it was so so so good seeing him too step again
↳papaya_girl: it so so was
oscarpiastri: congrats man! Sad it wasn’t a double podium but great drive today
↳landonorris: oh mclaren 1-2s aren’t over yet!
↳papaya_girl: THEY BETTER NOT BE
↳papaya_girl: YOU GOTTA BE ON TOP MORE OFTEN
↳oscarpiastri: …again??? On my comment thread? TMI guys
↳papaya_girl: totally not what I meant but now that you mention it…Lando meet me in your drivers room, 5 minutes
↳landonorris: 🏃🏻‍♂️💨💨💨
↳oscarpiastri: SERIOUSLY???
user50: is this…is this how max fan’s felt like last year?
↳user51: as a max fan…yes it was. I want it back!
↳papaya_girl: not if we can help it! LN supremacy forever!
↳landonorris: you know it!
↳user50: and if we say LN1??
↳papaya_girl: I’d say you can see the future! 🧡🧡
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papaya_girl: and the 3rd time is definitely the charm! And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name
view all comments
user52: I was definitely one of them!
↳user54: god what i would have given to have been there…
↳user52: it was just…amazing
maxfewtrell: congrats man!
↳landonorris: thanks man! Glad you were here to see it!
↳papaya_girl: he did it again!!
↳landonorris: I did!!
↳papaya_girl: so proud of you baby!
↳maxfewtrell: do you just traumatize everyone on their comment threads then?
↳oscarpiastri: yes
↳papaya_girl: hey! It’s my post!
↳landonorris: oi!
user55: congrats lando!
maxverstappen1: i think this calls for a celebration! And the winner buys yeah?
↳charles_leclerc: absolutely!
↳alex_albon: oh we’re down!
↳georgerussell63: sounds good!
↳oscarpiastri: that’s a plan
↳carlossainz55: si!
↳landonorris: you muppets! I won so you should be buying ME drinks!
↳maxverstappen1: that’s not what you’ve been saying these past few years…
papaya_girl
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papaya_girl: Carlos…you can’t have him. Lando is MY man, MY love
view all comments
carlossainz55: sorry not sorry but you’ll never understand our bond
↳papaya_girl: he was mine FIRST! BSCK OFF
↳carlossainz55: De repente no entiendo ingles
↳papaya_girl: 🤺🤺🤺
↳landonorris: 🥰🧡🧡🧡🧡
user56: carlando is back!
↳papaya_girl: it is not!!
↳carlossainz55: that’s not what everyone is saying
↳papaya_girl: back off you Spanish fuck 🤺🤺
↳carlossainz55: 🤺🤺🤛🏼🤛🏼
↳landonorris: ok ok ok. Let’s just all stop and think about our actions
↳user56: mom help me the girls are fighting
user57: according to the pictures, carlando sat next to each other at their dinner while the wags were relegated to the other side of the table…
↳user58: ouch…
↳papaya_girl: we might have been on the other side of the table but lando is gonna be on the other side of the bed
↳iamrebeccad: same
↳landonorris: WHAT??? NO???
↳carlossainz55: what??
↳papaya_girl: play stupid games win stupid prizes
↳iamrebeccad: ☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻
↳carlossainz55: …well…
↳papaya_girl: 😑😑😑
↳landonorris: best not
↳papaya_girl: good answer
papaya_girl
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papaya_girl: Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close?
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user59: I can’t even begin to describe how happy I am to see the return of mushy romantic Lando
↳user60: that was my exact thoughts as well…after this entire season so far, I’m so glad that he’s got somewhere safe to go
↳papaya_girl: he always will
↳user60: good!
landonorris: I've loved you for far more then three summers now, baby, but I want 'em all
↳papaya_girl: you’ll have all my summers my love
↳landonorris: and your falls?
↳papaya_girl: springs and winters too.
↳landonorris: good 🥹🥰
↳papaya_girl: 😘🧡💋
↳landonorris: 🥰🥰🥰🧡🧡🧡
user61: ahhh the return of being called single over and over and over
↳user62: right?
maxfewtrell: he got you in the gym?
↳papaya_girl: i was physically in the gym
↳landonorris: she sat and took pictures of me while singing to Taylor
↳papaya_girl: as a good girlfriend would!
↳maxfewtrell: yeah that sounds about right!
↳papaya_girl: hey!
↳landonorris: 🤣🤣
papaya_girl
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papaya_girl: Vegas your lights shine so beautifully but I think I’ve been blinded by his eyes
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user63: I think we have an aspiring poet on our hands
↳user64: no but i understand her. That fourth picture…can you say new wallpaper???
landonorris: permission to be cheesy?
↳papaya_girl: since when do you ever ask??
↳landonorris: “It's a beautiful night, we're lookin' for somethin' dumb to do. Hey, baby, I think I wanna marry you”
↳papaya_girl: LANDO NORRIS IF THIS IS AN ACTUAL PROPOSAL IM STEALING YOUR CAR AND RUNNJNG YOU OVER!!!
↳landonorris: woah
↳papaya_girl: we are NOT getting married in Vegas!!
↳papaya_girl: and you better have a better proposal plan then INSTAGRAM COMMENTS
↳landonorris: 📝📝📝
↳user65: …the whiplash I just suffered
↳papaya_girl: SAME
↳maxfewtrell: I think he managed to give everyone a heart attack
↳papaya_girl: he’s already fielding calls from his mother and sisters
↳maxfewtrell: probably serves him right
↳papaya_girl: it does!!
↳landonorris: THEY KEEP CALLING ME
↳papaya_girl: YOU PROPOSED THROUGH INSTAGRAM AND WANTED TK GET MARRIED IN VEGAS
↳landonorris: yeah ok
papaya_girl
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papaya_girl: Lando, my love…I think today really showed what kind of driver you are. A time penalty that put you in last and you still managed to end up in the points…
1 more to go.
congrats on third Oscar!
comments have been limited
landonorris: I only did so well cause I knew you were watching
↳papaya_girl: no. You did so well today because you are a fantastic driver and good things (WDC and WCC things) are coming your way. Today had nothing to do with me — it was all you 😍🧡
↳landonorris: it was a little bit you but thank you babe 🧡
oscarpiastri: thanks papaya_girl
↳oscarpiastri: and congrats lando! Fantastic drive there
↳landonorris: thanks man
papaya_girl
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papaya_girl: 4 wins for my favorite #4!! I know I’ve said it again and again this year but Lando Norris it has been the best year of my life being able to follow you around and watch you live your dream. What a year… congratulations my love
Congratulations too to Oscar on your WCC!
(PS I think I might need to look for a boyfriend that looks at me the way that Lando looks at Carlos…)
view all comments
user66: …what on earth is happening in that 5th photo???
↳papaya_girl: if you figure it out, will you let me know?
carlossainz55: I told you you wouldn’t understand our bond papaya_girl
↳papaya_girl: 🖕🏻
↳oscarpiastri: 🤣🤣
↳landonorris: no no no baby let’s not do this
↳papaya_girl: fine
↳carlossainz55: fine
↳papaya_girl: he was very clearly talking to me!! His girlfriend!!
↳carlossainz55: if that’s what you want to think 🤔
↳papaya_girl: landonorris???
↳landonorris: ummmm…🏃🏻‍♂️💨💨💨
landonorris: you want to replace me🥺🥺🥺
↳papaya_girl: if you don’t stop giving heart eyes to that Spanish fucker…
↳carlossainz55: ha!
↳landonorris: baby (papaya_girl) you’re the only one for me
↳landonorris: and you have even been Mrs Norris by now if you had just said yes!
↳papaya_girl: again!! Not through instagram!
↳papaya_girl: and I’ll have to hyphenate…I can’t have the same name as the cat from Harry Potter…
↳landonorris: oi! You muppet!
↳papaya_girl: 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️
↳papaya_girl: your muppet though?
↳landonorris: always
↳carlossainz55: you used to say that to me
↳papaya_girl: go away
oscarpiastri: congrats mate! WCC this year WDC next year?
↳landonorris: you know it!
↳papaya_girl: you win a WDC at or before Vegas and I’ll say yes the next time you ask
↳landonorris: YES. ABSOLUTELY. IF YOURE LYING TO ME ILL START CRYIGN
1K notes · View notes
rambling-at-midnight · 6 months ago
Text
Please Come Home
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Summary: You never realized how many places there were to hide in your apartment, but you’re pretty sure someone else is in here with you. Whatever they want isn’t good.
Word count: 3.3k
TW: home invasion, violence, curses as insults
Your spare key is missing.
Fuck. You always keep it in this drawer. Where the fuck is it?
When you told Jason he could just grab your keys to take your car instead of his bike to the store, you’d been relying on using your spare to lock up the apartment when you left for work. You never, ever moved it, but it was gone all the same. Did he take it instead of your keychain? Nope, that’s missing from its hook next to the front door.
When was the last time you used it? Not too long ago. Had you been careless about putting it back?
You text Jason, Did you grab my spare key?
Shit. You had to leave for work, like, five minutes ago, and you have no key to lock the front door.
At least you have a fire escape. You bolt the door from the inside, then slip out the window. You can’t latch it from the outside, but it’s a little harder to break in through the window than the front door.
You’re only two minutes late to your waitressing shift. Your manager swipes you in, lets you know that a server called out so you’ll be handling two sections today, and the host runs up to tell you that you’ve already been sat.
In the middle of the shift, when you have a minute to catch your breath, you check your phone. Jason had texted, No, I took your keychain. Is your spare missing?
I think I lost it.
I’ll look for it when I come home before patrol. Will I see you before heading out?
Not looking like it. Things haven’t slowed down at all.
I’ll see you when I get home, then. Don’t wait up.
I’ll have dinner in the fridge when you get back. Gotta get back to work. Love you
I love you, too.
A couple hours later, Jason texts that he has no luck locating your spare. Since he’s paranoid, he’s going out for a new lock tomorrow, but there’s important business with a drug ring that he can’t miss tonight.
That’s okay. It’ll be a pain to climb up the fire escape, but you don’t really mind that much. You’ve been meaning to get more exercise, anyway.
You finish work at six and the walk back to your apartment building is pretty peaceful. Unusual for Gotham.
It lulls you into a false sense of security.
You’re not really in the mood for leftovers, and not really in the mood to cook. You stare between your phone and the pantry. Takeout is easy. So is pasta.
With a sigh, you decide to spare your bank account. Delivery fees are getting ridiculous nowadays.
You text Jason just to see how his night is going. You’re not sure he’ll respond; sometimes, like during stakeouts, he turns his phone off completely so the sound or vibrate doesn’t reveal his presence. He doesn’t respond after a minute, which means he’s busy. You sigh and set down your phone, then change into comfier clothes. As soon as you’re out of your room, you grab a pot and box of pasta. You can’t sit down, or you’ll put off dinner for at least another hour.
The water is set to boil when you turn around to look at your phone, vaguely hoping Jason has responded by now.
Your phone isn’t on the counter.
You frown. You’re pretty sure you left it there.
Maybe it’s in the pantry when you grabbed the pasta?
It’s not.
You must have left it in your room when you changed. You check, and it’s sitting right on your bedside table. “Jeez,” you mutter, picking it up and slipping it into your pocket. After a long day, it’s okay to be scatterbrained, but this is a bit much.
Still no response from Jason.
You walk out of the bedroom to see that the stove turned itself off and the pasta water is barely warm. “Gotham appliances are such pieces of shit,” you mutter. You know what, fine. A shower and feeling clean will make you feel better to try again. The saying is that a watched pot never boils, but hopefully a watched Gotham stove never turns itself on and off randomly while you cook.
The apartment’s a bit chilly, so you take your pajamas with you into the bathroom and sit under the water spray until all the grime of the day washes away. It’s a bad habit, but you bring your phone with you in the shower to scroll through social media until your skin starts to get pruny. You step out, wrapping the towel around yourself in a vain attempt to stop shivering, and… your pajamas are gone.
The pajamas that you’re sure you took with you. You distinctly remember putting them on the sink counter.
And now they’re gone.
Something clenches in your stomach. You text Jason, Hey are you home yet?
He doesn’t respond right away.
Jay, this isn’t funny.
Still nothing.
Is it possible you forgot to bring the clothes with you? No, you distinctly remember the thought process.
Someone moved them, and you can’t think of s single reason anyone you know would do that. That kind of prank isn’t funny.
You text Jason, I think there is someone in the house with me. Then you try calling him.
You go straight to voicemail.
You bite your lip, trying hard not to panic. Jason never sends you to voicemail. He’s answered your calls in the middle of shootouts, voice strained, “Hey, kinda busy right now, is it an emergency?”
His phone is turned off, so who knows when he’ll see your texts. He might not turn it on again for hours.
You text your best friend, I think someone broke into my house. Don’t call me. Please help.
You chew on your thumbnail.
Either she calls the cops, or she shows up with a baseball bat and her scary-ass motorcycle dude boyfriend. He’s secretly a softie, but his appearance doesn’t match his personality.
He’s a lot like Jason, actually. Who would have thought you two had the same type?
You call Jason again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Your best friend texts, Omw. That’s it, but it’s the best text you’ve ever seen in your life.
Okay. Either cower in the bathroom until someone shows up, or play along with the same game the possibly-real-intruder is playing, that everything is normal.
No matter what happens next, you want to be dressed for it. You peek under the door, but you don’t see anyone’s feet.
Maybe this is all in your head, but you have a terrible gut feeling that it isn’t.
Your heart pounds, but you maintain a leisurely stroll into your room through the kitchen, palming a knife as you go, and locking the door behind you. The intruder may be in your closet, so you hold the knife out as you swing the door open.
Empty.
You throw on the first clothes you see and debate hiding in your room until your friend arrives. But adrenaline is pumping and you think you might shake out of your skin. You sit on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths.
There’s a window in your room, but it only opens three inches and it’s not connected to the fire escape, so that’s not an option. The window that leads to the fire escape is in the main room, so you’d have to walk through the kitchen to get to it, and the intruder may be hiding in the pantry.
You could try the front door, but the storage closet is right next to it: another likely place for someone to hide and jump out at you.
Your room is only as safe as the strength of the door. And the wood is pretty thin.
All of a sudden, your phone buzzes, and you drop it. You snatch it up to see an incoming call lighting up the screen with your boyfriend’s handsome contact photo.
You accept the call immediately. “Jay?”
“I’m on my way,” he rushes out. You hear the roar of his motorcycle in the background. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” You whisper, “I think someone is here.”
“I know.” His voice is strained. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I’m five minutes away. Can you get out?”
“I don’t know. I’m in my bedroom, I locked my door. I think he’s hiding somewhere in the apart—”
A hand shoots out from under the bed and grabs your ankle.
You scream.
Your phone flies away when he yanks you off the bed. You go down swinging with the knife and make contact, accidentally swiping your own ankle in the process. The man grunts with pain and lets go, and you scramble to the door. You don’t even feel the pain in your ankle, although you’re actually bleeding a lot.
He’s wriggling out from under your bed when you get to your feet and twist the doorknob. “Get the fuck out of my house, you fucking pervert!” you scream. You yank the door open and run…
Right into a stranger’s chest.
There are two of them?
An iron grip clamps over your shoulder. His other hand fists in your hair. “Well, hello, pretty. You’re not the Red Hood.”
You stab him in the stomach.
Unfortunately, that only makes him mad.
“You bitch,” he groans. The slap is so powerful it nearly breaks your neck. You can’t breathe for a second, and then the first man catches up to you. His hand is bleeding. Like, a lot. They transfer you over so the stabbed man can groan about being stabbed. It’s only in his gut, so he should be fine. “Walk it off,” you goad. It’s the Gotham in you.
The first man digs his bloody knuckles into your cheek. “Fucking whore cut me,” he says. “Where’s the Red Hood?”
“He’ll kill you both,” you spit. “He’s on his way to shoot you in the head.” The threat should have scared them, but they were dumb enough to break into the Red Hood’s apartment and beat his partner. They had not been blessed with many braincells.
“Good,” he says. “He’ll get here just in time to see his pretty pet die.”
Someone pounds on the door and everyone freezes. Fear flashes over their face, but Jason wouldn’t have knocked. He would have kicked the door down or gone through the window.
Your best friend calls your name through the door. She’s trying to sound casual, but things are so far past casual.
The man holding you sees you draw in a breath to scream. “Don’t you dare,” he warns. “Do it and I’ll kill them, too.” The barrel of a gun presses to the side of your head.
Where is Jason?
You don’t think he’ll get here in time. He doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of that failure, but he will. Your Jay thinks he’s responsible for every bad thing in the world.
The man’s ugly face explodes.
You register the concussive sound of gunfire half a second later. Your ears ring. You lose your balance.
More gunfire. It’s so loud all you can do is cover your ears. Who’s shooting who?
It stops as suddenly as it started, but you don’t look up. You can’t hear anything. You don’t want to see their ugly faces anymore.
Then hands grab you again, and you shriek. Your kitchen knife is still buried in the second man’s gut, so you have no defense. A man with a gun is going to kill you in your apartment.
Despite all your attempts at fighting, he’s too strong. Iron hands pry your hands away from your head, but you still can’t hear anything. Your ears are still ringing too loud. Your eardrums might have burst.
Then gloved hands cup your cheeks.
You know those gloves.
Jason is kneeling on the ground in front of you, absolutely frantic. His mouth moves, but you don’t hear anything. You don’t even hear your sob, but you definitely feel it right before you throw yourself at him.
Strong arms wrap around your back. Jason cradles you, hugs you so tight you can’t breathe, tries to hide you from anyone that might hear you. You still can’t make out his words, but you’re beginning to hear a muffled voice.
You’re sitting completely in his lap, his legs behind you to support your back. You cling to him, trying not to shake. You’re a pretty unflappable Gothamite, but a home invasion is enough to rattle anyone. You’re supposed to be safe here.
Jason pulls away just enough to kiss your forehead. His green eyes squeeze tight like he’s in pain, and a single tear slips from the corner of one.
You wipe it away.
Jason wipes the blood on your cheek away.
You read his lips when he asks if you’re okay. You nod. You’re alive, and that’s what matters.
Jason holds you still when you try to look around. He says something that you can’t read. He must know that you don’t understand, because he just uses one huge hand on the back of your head to pull you forward. His mouth presses against your forehead, not quite a kiss, just relishing the connection.
You hear the banging first. Then you hear the shouting.
Oh, God. Your best friend.
You scramble out of Jason’s hold so fast he can’t stop you. You stumble past two dead bodies, both with three bullets in their heads. The floor is ruined beyond belief.
Jason helps support you. He needs to touch you somewhere to reassure himself that you’re okay, that you’re alive. You unlock the door, and barely open it a crack before your friend pushes it all the way open.
She gasps at the sight of you. “Oh, my God!” Her arms wrap tight around your neck, and you squeeze her. Jason’s hand remains pressed against your back. Her boyfriend stands behind her in the hallway, and he eyes Jason somewhat suspiciously. The two have never met before.
Your best friend pulls away, and Jason folds you against his side. His hand runs up and down your arm.
“Are you okay? There’s blood all over you.” Her eyes drift past your face and land on the bodies on your floor. Her mouth tightens, but she doesn't scream or call the cops immediately.
“It’s not mine,” you say faintly. “Well…” You look at your ankle. “Most of it.”
“Jesus,” says Jason. “They did that to you?”
"I did it to myself," you admit. "But I stabbed that one." You point.
He kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself. I never should have left you alone." Jason fixes your friend with a look so stern that she actually gulps. "Can you watch them for a little bit?"
"Yeah," she says. "I'll take care of them."
"Good." Jason takes your face in his hands. His eyes blaze. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You hear me? You're not gonna be alone ever again."
You nod numbly.
Jason carries you to the couch, then coaches your friend through applying pressure to your ankle. He gently places an icepack in your hand, then moves you until it's pressed to your numb cheek. Then he kisses you. Pulls back. Kisses you again. It's not sweet—he tastes like blood, or maybe you do—but it's firm, and it's real, and it's a promise.
He stands up and asks your friend's boyfriend, "You wanna help me with these?"
As far as you know, the other man's never hidden a dead body in his life. But to his credit, he hardly hesitates before nodding.
Jason's already calling someone when he walks out. One of his criminal contacts, you're sure. You don't know and you don't want to know.
They're gone for twenty minutes. You're still in shock when they get back. You know you're in shock, but you can't snap out of it. You don't think you want to.
He gently nudges your friend's hands away to peek under the gauze. "You want stitches for this, honey?"
You shake your head. The cut's too close to bone, and you don't want a needle going anywhere near your bones.
"Okay." He changes the gauze, then tapes it in place, then puts a sticky wrap over that. "I'll change this in the morning. You're gonna be okay."
"I'm glad you're all right," your friend's boyfriend offers. You don't know each other all that well, but he just helped hide two bodies that you and Jason killed, so he must be an all right dude. You nod, give him a shaky smile, try to wave.
Your best friend bends over to hug you. "I'm going to text you in the morning," she says. "You'll be okay with Jason. I'm so proud of you. I'm so glad you're okay."
You hug her back until she puts the icepack back in the freezer.
When they leave, Jason stands up from the couch. You make a pleading, confused noise in the back of your throat, and he smooths your hair away from your face. "I'll be right back, honey," he promises. "I'm gonna lock the door. No one's ever getting to you again, you hear me?"
As soon as he pulls away, you shiver. The only thing keeping you warm was his body.
True to his word, he locks the front door, then heads right back to you.
"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Jason asks softly.
You shake your head. There was a man hiding beneath your bed tonight. It was worse than any monster you used to be scared of as a child.
"Okay," he says softly. Jason eases onto the couch, but he has so much bulk that it's impossible to lay side-by-side on your backs. Jason twists onto his side, and after a moment, you do too, using one of his massive biceps as a pillow. He smells like gunpowder. You smell like blood. You fit together like two terrible, violent puzzle pieces.
He kisses your forehead again. Pulls a blanket over the two of you, makes sure it's snug around your feet. You enjoy the fussing.
When he has nothing left to fiddle with, Jason sucks in a ragged inhale, then says, voice cracking, "When I saw those texts, I was terrified."
"I'm glad you checked your phone," you say. "For a while, I thought you wouldn't."
"I could feel that something was wrong."
Your throat hurts. "Did you mess up your mission tonight because of me?"
"Honey, I would do anything for you," he says. "I'd abandon a thousand missions to keep you safe. I'd burn this city to the ground."
Another night, you would remind him that he's a hero. That he fights for the greater good. That he is good.
Tonight, you take comfort in the vow.
"I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "You were so brave. You did so well."
Your fingers twist in his shirt. Your nose nestles into the hollow at the base of his throat perfectly, so you hear every breath he takes, every rumble in his throat when he talks. You press a kiss to his chest just above the neckline of his shirt, and his throat jumps.
Jason makes a strangled noise, then wraps his arms even tighter around you. He throws one leg over your hip, completely covering you, pressing you into the couch. You would feel suffocated if it was anyone else.
You fall asleep faster than you ever have before, secure that Jason won't let anything happen to you during the night. The last thing you register before unconsciousness is his dry lips pressed to your forehead again. Making sure you're alive. Reassuring you that he's here and always will be.
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hairmetal666 · 6 months ago
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The worst thing that ever happened to Eddie Munson is a spinning studio opening in the building next to the neighborhood store he runs with his uncle.
"That's the third one today," Eddie whines as soon as the door snicks shut behind a woman with a glossy high ponytail and electric pink polka dot Lululemon sports bra and bicycle short set.
"You see her ponytail?" Nancy asks. She's flipping through a stack of flashcards. "Never seen a twenty-five year old look fresh off a facelift."
"I hate them so much. What kind of job is 'cycling instructor' anyway?"
"I'm concerned about the amount of makeup they wear to workout. That's gotta be bad for the pores."
"I'm concerned about the collective IQ holding that operation together. Like, do they know how to get out if there's a fire alarm?"
Nancy shoves him, but snickers too. It's not like he really has anything against the instructors. They're fine. Polite and usually harmless. It's the principle of it. It's not fair, that they get to continue into an adulthood that's still all about them being pretty and popular, without any substance.
"You've done college bio," he says. He notices a couple of cereal boxes have fallen over, hops off the counter to push them back in place. "What are the chances their muscles are so big it's cutting off the blood flow to their brains? Is that a thing that can happen?"
There's no response from the front of the store, which isn't unusual. Mostly, she lets him talk and chimes in when the mood strikes. Since she seems uninterested in offering her input, he straightens the cereal and keeps gabbing.
"The other day, one of the guys came in, and his shorts were so tight, I could see his balls. Not just the outline, but the wrinkles. I could almost make out individual pubes. Is that one of those things where they pretend they're limiting drag, or whatever, to improve their speed? Even though it's a stationary bike--"
He turns, the shelves straightened, and literally only three feet from him is one of the aforementioned cycling instructors. Unfortunately, he's the most beautiful man Eddie has ever seen. Even more unfortunately, he definitely heard Eddie making fun of them.
"Uhh," Eddie says.
The guy smiles. "Sorry, my giant muscles make it hard to get around sometimes."
And Eddie just. Like. What the fuck. "That must make it difficult to cycle." God, god but this guy is so fucking, devastatingly hot and all Eddie has done is antagonize him. And not even intentionally!
"I get by," he smiles and Eddie almost swoons. "Hey, when I bend down, can you let me know about the ball sitch? I have a wholesome image to maintain."
Is he flirting? It seems like he's flirting? But that's weird, right? He caught Eddie talking shit, why would he--
"It would be my pleasure to look at your balls," his mouth says before his brain can catch up.
The guy snorts, smile getting bigger. "I don't know, now I might be self-conscious. Might have a wayward pube."
"How will you know if someone doesn't take a look?"
The guy steps closer, cocks his head to the side. He's got this impressive sweep of hair that barely tumbles, his throat dotted with cute little moles and freckles. Eddie's mouth is watering, why is his mouth watering? "I usually get to know someone a little bit better before they get that privilege."
For once, he's speechless and now he's blushing, can feel it up to his ears and down to his nipples.
The guy leans even closer, breath ghosting against Eddie's skin. "Too bad you hate exercise instructors."
This social interaction has already been a disaster, but he makes it even worse by responding with an indignant squeak.
The guy winks, can't hide his genuine amusement at Eddie's expense. "You ever want to make it up to me, you can come to one of my classes."
With that, he walks up to Nancy at the counter, and Eddie gets his first look at the single most glorious ass he's ever seen. His mouth literally drops open as he watches how it jiggles, perfect and round, and he wonders if it would be too much to fall to his knees and worship it right then and there.
Eddie's dumbstruck for a little too long, almost misses as the cycling instructor heads for the door. "How can I take your class if I don't know your name?" He shouts.
The instructor half turns, the sexiest, smuggest smile on his pretty face. "It's Steve!" He yells back.
"I'm Eddie!"
"I know!"
The door closes and he turns to Nancy. "How--how did he know my name?"
Nancy rolls her eyes, goes back to her flashcards. "You're wearing a name tag, you absolute dork."
Eddie knows he's a man of weak will. Is not completely surprised when, after a month of meanly flirtatious interactions, Steve leans across the counter to taunt, "you do one cycling class with me and I'll take you out to dinner."
He's fresh from a workout, hair still damp and messy from the shower. Eddie thinks he's about to lose his mind, desire a clawing beast gnawing on his bones.
"Oh, so I might finally get the opportunity to check out your balls?"
Steve's cheeks go very pink, and something tight and hot tugs in Eddie's abdomen. "If you play your cards right."
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feminine-obedient-alexandra · 5 months ago
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How to be a woman
Be nice to men. Always be pleasant. Don't say mean things. Good girls don't want confrontations, good girls long for praise, peace, and quiet. 
Wear tight clothes. Men like to look at nice things. So you better be a nice thing if you want male approval. 
Make yourself look stupid. It's called "cute". Puppies are cute mainly because they are dumb and unskilled. It's the same with girls. It stimulates the male protective instinct. Use this. 
Be a role model for others. Or "be the change you wanna see in the world". The first step to a better world starts with your foot in front of the other. 
Strive to make Men happy. If a Man is happy, he is bound to make you happy too. 
Embrace sexual objectification. You are sexy. Show it to the world. 
Stay fit. Stay healthy. Stay fuckable. Your body is your most important asset. Treat it well. Do your exercises, eat healthy and keep your mind in a happy place. 
Let men tell you how to be. To be what Men want, you gotta listen to Men. Men will tell you what they desire, what they dream about. But you gotta follow the path that they lay out for you. 
Compete with other women for male attention. Sadly, male attention is a finite resource. Every day, every hour, every minute and every second we are in competition with each other. It is a friendly and healthy competition, don't make it get ugly - men don't like vile people. Stay happy but compete as hard as you can. 
Follow the rules made by men. Follow rules. Always. No excuses. Rules are made to be obeyed. Don't complain about them. They are made for a reason. You don't have to understand the reasoning behind them to follow them. So don't even try. If a Man made a rule, that rule has a purpose. Don't question it.
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sonotpattismith · 1 month ago
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where I first saw you
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pairing: tattoo artist!sukuna x ballerina!reader word count: 10.3k content: fluff, grumpy+sunshine vibes, sukuna is low-key an asshole, reader is depicted as a bit naive, special guest starring choso my shnookums, almost loss of virginity, smut, 18+
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Sukuna loved his job— no really, he did. He didn’t have to speak a certain way to garner respect, his marked up face helped his occupation rather than hindering it, and he was finally able to put to use what seemed like the one goddamn skill the universe graced him with. Anyone who walked into the shop and saw that look on his face though might assume he’d rather be anywhere else than holed up in the dimly lit tattoo parlor he worked at, but it truly was just his face. Luckily for him though, his resting bitch face seemed to match the vibe of the shop, so his boss let it slide.
So, yeah, there really wasn’t anywhere else the daunting man could see himself working in, but there was one qualm about his job— the people. God, how Sukuna fucking hated some of the half-wits that sat in his chair most of the time. Whether it be cuddled up inconvenietnly to their significant other with whom they would soon be matching ink with, or the awkwardly beefed up masculine types that were convinced that their decision to get a big ass tiger on their back was unique. 
Perhaps he should have started working on his judgemental nature long before he decided on a career that centered around servicing people, but he just couldn’t find it in him to feign interest in their drawn out stories about why they were sitting in his chair that day. At the end of the day, it was the art that kept his soul alive while having to work with so many idiots. He loved drawing, since he received his first sketchbook at the ripe age of ten so that he’d stop scribbling on the walls of his room. 
He often joked that it was his one redeeming feature, never having been the best academic student and failing to be as charming as his twin brother so easily managed— this was his one thing. 
That was why he seriously had to exercise restraint and put on his best poker face when a group of babbling college students stumbled into the shop just shy of an hour before closing. There were about five of them, all shouting over each other and giggling obnoxiously as if they could hear any of what the others were saying. 
Don’t lose your job over some sorority kids. He had to keep telling himself as he set his pencil down, looking up from his sketchbook with his lips set in a firm line. They were huddled around the stencil book now, shoving at each other for turns looking at the choices before them. The bickering grew louder and louder until his last thred of patience snapped. 
“Oi, if you shitheads are gonna come in here so close to closing, you better quiet the fuck down and pick which one of you is getting inked, cause I ain’t got time for all of you, and you’re givin’ me a fucking migraine.” 
The group was stunned to silence, blinking up at the aggravated man behind the counter who was shutting his book with a huff. It was silent for a moment before they broke into hushed, excited rambles about how he was perfect and how fucking funny this would be in the morning. Taking in a controlled breath, he watched them shove one of their members to the front.
“It’s her, she wants a tattoo.” They all guffawed, looking at each other with barely concealed smirks that appeared far too incriminating. 
You stumbled forward, bracing your hands on the counter as the room seemed to spin around you. The apples of your cheeks were flushed red, but he assumed it was your nerves, along with the fact that your gaze couldn’t seem to focus on the man before you. 
“It’s late, so if you want something it’s gotta be small.” Sukuna explained with poorly concealed annoyance as he stood up to begin prepping a chair. He heard you begin to speak, but you were quickly cut off by the boisterous group surrounding you. 
“It can be small!” One of the guys insisted desperately as he guided you by your shoulders to sit in the leather, reclining chair the tattoo artist was standing by. “She wants a…” His words trailed off as he glanced back at the giggling group, who were all giving him a thumbs up as they shouted various ideas at him. “A tramp stamp! She wants a tramp stamp.”
Sukuna felt his jaw tick at the outdated term, but he swiveled his head to face you nonetheless. 
“You fuckin’ mute or what?” He grumbled as he snatched the stencil book from the group. 
“N-No, I… they told me they’d pick something nice for me.” Your words slurred almost unintelligbly, and, upon closer inspection, he was taking note of the blearly look in your eyes. 
“You plastered right now?” 
“She’s only had a couple drinks!” One of the girls defended quickly, leaning the entire upper half of her body across the counter in anticipation. “But she’s been talking about this for like everrr.” 
Something about their eagerness to speak for you sounded off warning alarms in his mind, but he shook his head nonetheless. 
“You ever done this before?” The pink-haired man questioned as he donned a pair of gloves. 
“Umm…” You hummed nonsensically, head lolling to the side to watch him snap on the last glove. His deadpan expression made you flush with embarrassment, staring down self-consciously at your ink-free skin. “No.”
“This one! She wants this one!” Another degenerate spoke up, pointing excitedly to the stencil depicting various sized lipstick marks that would traverse the expanse of your lower back. When you leaned your head forward to look, he quickly snatched the book away from your line of sight. 
Sukuna watched the motion with narrowed eyes, irritation slowly creeping up each of his fingers with an urge to ring someone’s neck out. Glancing back at the way you were slumped back in the chair, eyes barely able to stay open, he gave a curt shake of his head. 
“Nah,” He finalized, ripping his gloves off before tossing them in the bin beside him. “I don’t know what it is you lowlives call a joke, but I ain’t the one. Take her home.”
The group quickly broke out into a string of protests, walking around the counter to level with the man, but he had already made up his mind. 
“C’mooon, man!” The guy pleaded with the stencil book still clutched in his grasp. “She’s fine! I’ll pay extra, c’mon!”
Sukuna stepped forward to snatch the book from his grasp, pointing it back at your figure still sat obliviously beside them. 
“She can barely fucking sit up straight. Take her home before you seriously piss me off.” He repeated once again. 
There was an encore of disappointed groans from the idiotic group that had brought you in. 
“Whatever man, there are like three artists on this block. We’ll go somewhere that actually wants to make money.” The ringleader quipped before grasping at your arm to pull you up.
All at once, his patience seemed to drain from him as his hand came forward to grip the man’s wrist in warning. Sukuna towered over him, his broad shoulders unknowingly blocking you from his view as he tilted his head at him. 
“Yeah? How ‘bout I call the fucking cops?” The shadows seemed to cast an impossibly more intimidating aura to his already less than welcoming expression. “Or do you wanna take this outside?” 
The group could be heard murmuring to each other, weighing their options out and deciding their cruel joke wasn’t worth whatever fate this man had in store for them should they continue. Upon acknowledging the fearfully complacent expression on the guy’s face, Sukuna leaned back, dragging his gaze across the group where not one of them stepped up to defend you in your inebriated state. 
As the idiot rushed to get you up so they could hightail it far away from this shop, the artist shook his head, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. 
“She’s fine there.” Sukuna said simply, not trusting that any one of these lowlives had even the slightest intention of taking you home unscathed that night. 
Baffled eyes stared up at him, but he remained resolute in his decision. It didn’t take much convincing at all though, because soon enough the group was scrambling out of the shop without so much as a second look at their ‘friend’. 
With an aggravated growl, Sukuna finally turned to face you again, only to find you passed out against the leather chair. He pursed his lips in annoyance, carefully reaching out to jostle your shoulder. You groaned softly, your still flushed face falling against your shoulder. 
“C’mon, brat.” He grumbled, glancing at the clock on the wall and deciding he deserved to close the shop a little early tonight. His boss would just have to get an explanation the next day. Reaching up, he gently pinched your warm cheek between his knuckles in an attempt to rouse you from your comatose state. “Where does your sorry ass live?”
Your eyes opened blearily, and it almost appeared as though there were two of him. Trying desperately to focus your gaze, a dumb smile spread across your face as you reached up to poke at his cheekbones. He grimaced, trying to shift his head away from your reach. 
“Haha, ‘sup four eyes?” You giggled deleriously at your own joke. 
“Yeah, real funny,” Sukuna quipped with a huff as you tossed your head back against the chair to close your eyes again. “Hey, hey, no, wake up and tell me where the hell it is I need to drop you off at.”
You only hummed sleepily at his words, and it was clear that he’d already lost you once again. Closing his eyes, he inhaled slowly through his nose to calm his temper. When he opened them once again, your lips were parted ever-so-slightly as you slipped off into a drunken slumber. 
He tsked in frustration before giving you a once over. You didn’t have a bag on you, and he wondered if your ‘friends’ had taken it with them. Glancing down at your pockets, he carefully reached down to feel around for a phone or wallet that he could use to get you home. When your front pockets proved to be useless, he grimaced slightly as he slumped you forward to search your back ones, sighing in anguished relief when he procured a cell phone. 
“Fuck.” He growled out when the damned thing prompted him for a passcode. 
In a desperate attempt to get you the hell out of his shop, he began pounding in random variations of four digit codes. Typical ones, 1-2-3-4, 0-0-0-0, 9-9-9-9, anything that might get him out of the situation he’d put himself in. After countless attempts though, he nearly tossed the device across the room when it alerted him that he was locked out due to too many failed attempts. Opting to toss the wretched thing on the table beside him, he groaned up at the ceiling. 
This is what I get for not minding my own damn business for once in my god-forsaken life.
There was a light scratching noise that flooded your consciousness. With it, came the realization that your brain was absolutely pounding against your skull, and you were sure there was a knot in your back that no amount of stretches would be able to unfurrow for at least another week. Parting your lips to lick the desert-like dryness from them, you noted that your mouth was just as parched. 
It was cold— far colder than you ever dared to keep your dorm room set at, and the sensation manifested goosebumps that prickled at every inch of your exposed skin. Despite this, there was a sheen sweat that was lining the back of your neck as you attempted to stretch. The nearly forgotten scratching stopped abruptly at your movements, and you slowly pried your eyes open. 
“Oh my god.” Your rasped voice blurted out as you came to the gruelling realization that the ceiling you were staring up at was not that of your room. Sitting up with a start, you frantically took in your surroundings as your mind reeled with the feeble attempt to remember what had transpired the night before. 
There were a myriad of… unique posters lining the walls, and, from where you were sitting, you could see a counter filled with various body jewelery. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front were drawn, making it difficult for you to determine what time it was, though you could swear you saw a sliver of sunlight peeking out through the cracks. 
Your hands suddenly began feeling around your own body in search of your phone, but you came up short. 
“It’s on the table.” Came an unfamiliarly deep voice on your right. 
Whipping your head around so quickly that it nearly made you dizzy, you caught sight of the monstrous-sized man lounging on the leather seat on the opposite end of the room. His hair was disheveled, but you were still caught off guard by its soft pink hue as strands strew across his forehead. An intricate work of black tattoos lined his face, emphasizing the secondary set of eyes he had inked under his real ones. 
“Oh my god!” You repeated with a mortified expression. He set aside the notebook that was perched on his lap to stand from his seat, and you shrunk farther into yours as he stretched to his full height. “Did we… oh my god, did I get a tattoo?” You weren’t sure which outcome sounded scarier to you as you frantically began assessing your skin for any evidence. 
“Check your ass.” He quipped with an amused glint on his otherwise stoic expression, but it almost broke upon seeing the horrified look on your face. “I’m fucking with you. Nothing happened— no thanks to your dumbass choice of friends though.”
You slowly settled back against the leather seat, trying to calm your racing heart as his words sunk in. With a vague haze, you could recall going out with a few members from your class who you were paired with for a group project. They weren’t exactly your friends, but you were desperately trying to change that being new to the city where you had begun university. 
“What… what do you mean?”
“I mean, they brought you in here telling me to tat you. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open. I told ‘em to fuck off.” His explanation was nonchalant as he began organizing a few things behind the counter. “And your sorry ass wouldn’t wake up long enough to tell me where you lived.”
The hazy puzzle pieces slowly started to come together, and you felt yourself flush instantly. Glancing at the time on your phone that was waiting for you just beside your seat, you noted it was still far too early for a tattoo parlor to be open. 
“I’m so sorry, this is mortifying—” You babbled as you stood up, quickly trying to straighten your rustled clothes. “I’m not from around here, and I was just trying to make some friends, but I didn’t know that—”
“Woah, woah woah,” The man before you grimaced with a wave of his hand to halt your rant. The warmth in your cheeks grew that much hotter at the realization of your rambling. “I just spent the night on a damn tattoo chair. I am nowhere near awake enough for your sob story right now, doll.”
“Right, sorry. Um, I should really get out of your hair.” You stammered, glancing awkwardly down at your feet as you made a beeline for the front door. With a barely noticeable hesitance, you turned back toward him one more time. “Thank you, by the way. That was… really cool of you.”
Sukuna watched with a lazy gaze as you pulled at the door only to be met with stark resistance. With a quiet huff, you used both hands this time to try to wrestle it open, even attempting to push it just in case. His long legs slowly dragged toward the front of the store with a tired mischievousness. Reaching over you, he switched the door unlocked before leaning back again, watching as the heat creeped up your neck. 
“Thanks.” You mumbled once again in humiliation, unable to face him as you finally pulled the door open. In an instant though, his hand was reaching above your head to hold the door closed. Your heart leaped into your throat, a nervous sweat nearly breaking out onto your forehead as you hesitantly looked up at him. 
“No friends is better than shit ones, you hear me?” One of his brows was raised as he glowered down at you, and the breath slowly escaped your lungs. 
His broad figure made sure his shadow consumed you, and from this close your clouded mind was finally able to process how terrifyingly hot this man was. Not trusting your voice, you could only nod meekly at his solemn advice, nearly crying in relief when he finally pushed off the door and allowed you to slip through it. 
In the end, you, by the grace of a higher being, made it to practice only ten minutes late, though you were still scolded by your instructor since you cut into your warm-up time. It was arguably the hardest practice you’d yet to endure, what with the crink it your back from spending the night on a tattoo chair. 
The more you thought about the mortifying events that had transpired the night before, the more you wished you could take your brain right out of your skull and hose it down in hopes of forgetting all about it. It was humiliating to think of how naive you had been to keep accepting drinks from the group you were with, who were still essentially strangers to you. Still, you were desperate for some friends after having spent an entire semester holed up in your dorm with nothing to do and no one to see. 
You had moved to the city from a small town, the kind where everyone knew everyone, and the culture of hospitality was far different from the uppity vibes you had received from nearly every new person you had met here. It was never really in your plans to move so far from home, but the university you had been accepted into had one of the best ballet programs in the country, and it had been your dream to dance professionally since you were six years old and perfected your first pirouette.
Still, you hadn’t expected to sacrifice so much to make it happen. 
You were friendly with the other members of your ballet group, but they all seemed to have already known each other for so long. It was more difficult than anything— trying to fit yourself into friend groups that had already been solidifying for years before your appearance. So, when your group members invited you out with them that night, you were more than elated to go along with whatever they had planned. 
You groaned in frustration, gently hitting your head against the wall of your shower as you washed off the sweat that had built up from your questionable night as well as practice later that day. There were at least five minutes spent inspecting your naked body in the mirror to confirm that you did not in fact have any unexpected ink anywhere. 
Despite your being in the clear, you couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of what could have happened had the kind yet terrifying tattoo artist not been as decent of a human being as he was. The guilt and embarrassment gnawed away at you in the few days that followed at the thought of the complete stranger staying with you in the shop until your stupidly drunk self decided to wake up. You thought of his parting words as well, that made you feel even a tiny bit better about your less than fortunate social circumstances.
It was an impulsive urge spurred on by your incessant boredom just two days later that had you meticulously weighing out the ingredients for the easiest cookie recipe you could manage in your dorm’s tiny kitchen. You heard the timer ring in the next room as you tied your hair up in front of the mirror. After carefully packaging the baked goods in a leftover, holiday themed cookie tin with a neatly written ‘thank you for not tattooing me!’ note written on some pink stationary, you set off for the shop that had been haunting you for the past two days. 
The lit up, neon red ‘TATTOO’ sign that hung outside the front seemed to buzz ominously as you stared up at it. It was never the type of… establishment you ever frequented, but it was far from you to judge given your previous circumstances. 
With an anxious sigh, you pushed into the door, hearing the faint jingle of the bell attached to it. The shop was fairly busy, a stark difference from that morning you’d woken up in it prior to its opening. 
“Welcome in. You here for a tattoo or a piercing?” You were pulled from your thoughts as a man behind the counter greeted you. He definitely fit the part, you thought as you took in his tattooed nose and pierced lips. What appeared to be eyeliner was smudged haphazardly around his already ominous, dark orbs, and there were two spiked out buns at the top of his head. 
“Um, neither actually.” You flushed unnecessarily, your fingers curling tighter around your tin as he raised a curious brow at you. Mustering up a kind smile, you finally found the courage to look him in the eyes. “I’m looking for a guy that works here. Tall, pink hair, face tattoos— do you know who I’m talking about?”
“Sukuna? Yeah, he’s working on an appointment right now.” The man explained as he looked at the time. You opened your mouth to ask if he would be so kind as to just give him the tin whenever he got out, but he cut you off. “He should be finishing up soon if you wanna wait here for him.”
Abruptly shutting your mouth, you weren’t sure why you couldn’t bring yourself to decline his offer, far too self-conscious about your every breath in this place. Nodding in thanks, you slowly sat down on the low, leather black couch that was in the waiting area. You clacked your nails anxiously against the tin in your lap, hyperaware of the man’s eyes still on you. 
“So, what’s in the container?” He questioned with a curious glint in his eyes, jutting his chin toward your lap. Looking up at him in surprise, you offered a bashful smile.
“Oh, they’re just cookies.” You explained with a nonchalant wave of your hand. 
His intimidating expression seemed to melt right off of his face, darkly lined eyes lighting up in a way that gave him a child-like aura. Smiling knowingly, you stood to walk over to the counter and opened the tin to offer him one. The boyish smile he gave instantly fought off any fear you previously held toward him, and the tension in your shoulders slowly faded as he eagerly grabbed one. 
“‘Thank you for not tattooing me’?” The man read the card through cookie-filled cheeks, crumbs gathering around his lips as he looked up at you in question. “I’ve gotta hear this—”
“Choso, get him a tube of aftercare, will ya’?” That familiar, deep voice saved you from the embarrassment of having to explain yourself to the kind man at the front desk. Sukuna, as you had now learned his name was, was walking in from the back followed by a shorter man. His movements faltered upon seeing you in the shop again. 
His ruby eyes took in your soft appearance in contrast to the gothic decorations that adorned the shop. You stuck out like a sore thumb, with your baby pink cardigan and perfectly glossed lips, and he couldn’t for the life of him think of why you would step foot back in here. 
“Sorry, doll, bed and breakfast is closed.” He quipped as nodded at the customer who had stopped to thank him again before exiting the store. You flushed at his jab, wondering why you bothered humiliating yourself like this. 
“She made you cookies.” Choso announced excitedly, once again with his mouth stuffed.
“Yeah? Then why the hell are you eating them?” He grumbled, swatting the man on the back of the head as he raised his hands in mock defense. The pink haired man walked behind the counter, picking up your note and skimming it with a raised brow before casting his eyes to the side dismissively. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you had flustered him. “Don’t gotta thank me for not being an asshole.”
As he leaned over to distract himself with checking the computer for his next appointment, Choso stared incredulously between him and you.
“You can thank me, I’m not an asshole.” He gushed, leaning his forearms on the counter to smile invitingly at you. His eyes skimmed your face before a flush fell over his cheeks. “Won’t tat you either if it means a pretty girl brings me cookies, too.”
“Quit being such a freak.” Sukuna growled as he elbowed him, finally tearing his gaze away from the computer to close the tin back up before Choso could steal another, but he was far too focused on getting your attention to pay the grouch any mind.
“How ‘bout a piercing, hm? Bet you’d look reeeal cute with a septum ring.” 
“Oh, um…” You flushed at his words, subconsciously reaching up to touch your bare nose. “I’m actually in ballet, and they’re pretty strict about—”
“Ballet?” Choso guffawed, much to Sukuna’s dismay as he huffed at the energetic man. “That’s so tight. So you do like shows and cool shit like that?”
“Yeah! I… actually have a recital coming up next week.” You explained enthusiastically, eager to connect in any way you can to the first person who’s shown you any sort of kindness since moving here. Without stopping to think about how desperate you might appear, you fished out a spare handout from your bag. “You should come— y’know, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
The pierced man before you snatched up the paper eagerly, dark eyes skimming the contents before he slumped in disappointment. 
“No can do, I’m working that night.” He sighed before turning to Sukuna, who had been watching the exchange with a barely concealed glare. “You should totally go though— he can go, right?”
You were undeniably flustered as you looked up at the man you had come here for, who looked less than enthused about your sudden turning up to the shop again. God, were you totally out of your element inviting this insanely attractive, crushingly edgy man to your ballet? Gulping down your nerves, you nodded softly, offering a timid smile. 
“Y-Yeah! Of course—”
“What the fuck would possess you to think I look like a dude who goes to ballets?” 
Your words died in your throat, and you felt all the blood rush to your face so embarrassingly fast that the only possible solace would be if the ground opened up below you and swallowed you whole. Looking down at your pristinely manicured nails, you dug your top lip mercilessly between your teeth. 
“Well, I-I usually invite my friends, but… it’s my first show since moving here, and I don’t… really know anyone, so…” It was as if you were growing more pathetic by the second, and you willed yourself to just shut the fuck up.
Sukuna, on the other hand, felt his stone cold heart shrivel up in horror at your words. Even with all the terrified glances he’d get from passerbyers on the street, and all the children he’d scared to tears with just a sharp glance their way, he had never felt like more of a monster than he did in that very moment watching your lively face dim so abruptly. 
He remembered what you had said the other day about trying to make some friends, and apparently you were desperate enough to get yourself in the position he’d had to pull you out of himself to do so. Beside him, he could feel Choso stepping on his toes as if to tell him to take it easy on you, but he was already wallowing in a pool of his own guilt. 
With a guarded scowl, Sukuna snatched the paper from his half-brother’s hands, red eyes skimming it furiously as you began apologizing for disturbing him. As you turned to make a desperate speed-walk toward the door, he spoke up. 
“Better be fucking good, brat.” 
Pausing mid-step, a subtle warmth spread in your chest as you slowly turned back around with a tickled smile. He didn’t deserve it, he was sure of it— not with the way your eyes lit up the entire room as if he’d just found the cure to cancer or solved world hunger. No, he’d just stepped on your innocent offer with the sole of his heavy, black boot after you’d just brought him home-made cookies for not tattooing you while you were under the influence. He didn’t deserve the way you flashed your teeth at him. 
“Heading to practice right now, boss.” You beamed with a mock salute before making your way to the exit with more pep in your step than had been there previously. Just before the door shut behind you, you shouted over your shoulder. “I hope you like the cookies!” 
“Why doesn’t this type of shit happen to me?” Choso questioned rhetorically as he stared longingly at the door you just left through with a shake of his head. “You’re a real asshole, you know?” 
And, boy, did he know it. 
While you had been flattered at Sukuna’s implication that he’d be showing up to your recital, a larger part of you was coming to terms with the fact that there was no way in hell that dude was coming. You couldn’t blame him. After all, you were essentially strangers, and it truly didn’t seem like his scene. Still, it would have been nice to have one person coming in your support. 
Sighing wistfully, you sprayed the final touches of hairspray into your slicked back bun, turning your head to the side to assure there were no stray strands. The lights of the dressing room mirror reflected the subtle glitter on your eyelids as you watched your fellow dancers bustle around behind you as they also prepared. 
Resisting the urge to bite at your lip for fear of ruining your lipstick, you glanced down at the message on your phone. 
Mom: Please send me a recording! I hate that I can’t be there for you today :(
In all your years as a dancer, you had always had someone there for you in the audience to cheer you on. Whether it be your family or your hometown friends, someone was always waiting for you outside with flowers and a proud smile. Swallowing down your self-pity, you gave yourself one last once over before you heard your three minute warning. If you weren’t dancing for anyone, you determined, you would just have to do it for yourself. 
That was the notion that got you through both of your group numbers and your solo. With every pointed kick and turn, you reminded yourself that this was for the life you were working so hard to achieve. The stage lights were blinding, and the beautifully orchestrated music almost made you forget that you were so upset in the first place. It showed on your face though, you were sure. After all, every instructor you’d ever had always told you that your expression would tell the story of your number louder than any lyrics ever could.
With all the preparation that went into every recital, you still never failed to be shocked whenever it ended so suddenly. There was a strong sense of pride bubbling in your stomach as your team met up backstage for a few celebratory photos. That familiar buzz came to an end though as everyone began departing, all greeted by friends, families, or lovers. With a wistful smile, you tugged your jacket tighter around yourself as you stepped out into the frigid air. 
“There you are— jesus,” A man sighed in exasperation as you accidentally shouldered into him, his hand closing around your arm before you could walk away. “All you people look the damn same with your hair like that.”
Looking up in bewilderment, your jaw fell open in surprise upon seeing that familiar head of pink hair. He was scanning the area with an awkward tension in his shoulders, as though he felt out of place in the midst of all these ballerinas— he certainly looked out of place. 
There was a black, button down dress shirt clinging mercilessly to his sculpted form, the first few buttons undone and revealing a teasing amount of his chest. As if it was the only color that ever graced his closet, his slim-fitting dress pants were also black, emphasizing his slim waist as it contrasted against his broad shoulders. 
Your lips parted as you took in his appearance, and you could swear the air around you grew at least five degrees warmer. As if your face couldn’t get any hotter, your eyes finally landed on the arrangement of flowers clutched in his hands. He glanced down at them with what seemed like an annoyed expression before shoving them toward you. 
“My brother said you’re supposed to bring crap like this to these things…” He explained, still not looking you in the eyes as you slowly took the bouquet into your arms.
“You actually came.” You commented, still a bit shell shocked to see him here. 
“I said I was gonna, didn’t I?” It came out harsher than he would have liked, but he couldn’t help but feel so oddly out of place before you. 
“Right.” You muttered pathetically, looking down at your feet so he wouldn’t see the flush in your cheeks. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you offered a hopeful smile that struck him like lightning. “Did you like the show?”
“You were alright, brat.” Sukuna grumbled as he peered down at you. 
It was a gross understatement though, because the man was absolutely floored when he saw you on that stage. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before— so used to the heavy metal and the harsher things in life. As soon as that center light hit you though, reflecting the ardently despaired expression on your intricately done up face as you allowed the music to take hold of you, it was as though you had cast a spell on him. 
The flowers in his lap nearly dropped to the floor as he found himself subconsciously leaning forward in his seat, lips parted in disbelief. You were angelic, each of your calculated movements translating etherally into the overall story you were conveying through your choreography. Even the subtle positioning of your delicate fingers seemed intricately thought out, pulling him further into your orbit. It made him want to trap you in your own little snow globe to put you on his shelf, ready to twirl so breathtakingly each time he longed for it. 
Yeah, maybe alright was an understatement, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it to you. Even now, as you smiled up at the waiter taking your order, Sukuna pretended not to be enamoured by the way your stage makeup made your eyes glitter under the restaurant's dim lighting. He had insisted on taking you to dinner following the show, not exactly asking and certainly not taking no for an answer as he led you to his sleek, black car with an urging hand on the nape of your neck. 
And you— you were far too elated to be making a friend to care about his off-putting demeanor. You barely had the chance to be remotely nervous over the fact that this teetered very closely on the edge of being a date with a man you would have deemed far out of your league just days ago. 
“So, you own the tattoo shop?” Your soft voice pulled him from his haze once the waiter placed your plates in front of you. You leaned forward on the table, a curious smile tugging at your red painted lips.
“Hah— yeah, that’s fucking hilarious.” He scoffed with an amused grin, leaning back as he took a sip of his drink. Taking note of the barely concealed confusion on your face, he cleared his throat, trying to remind himself to be on his best behavior. “I mean, I just finished my apprenticeship— don’t got the kind of money it takes to own my own shop.”
“Oh,” You muttered with a shy smile, suddenly feeling stupid for asking in the first place. “Well, I’m sure you’re really talented. I could barely draw a stick figure without making him look deformed.”
“Yeah?” He smirked, amused by your attempt to smooth over his negativity. You nodded affirmatively as you took a sip of your wine. There was a subtle flush in your cheeks that told him your drink was starting to catch up to you, and he made a mental note to stop the waiter from refilling your glass again. “And what about you, huh? You’d let me come at you with some ink since you think I’m so talented?”
A mock hum bubbled in your throat as you pretended to think about it. 
“I don’t know, you’d have to come up with something real cool.” You teased, running your hands dramatically up and down your bare arms. “This is virgin skin you’re seeing here— not to be tainted with any of those boring designs, you know?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” Sukuna assured with theatric sincerity, only spurring on your giggles as you played along. 
“It has to be something that’s me, you know?” You pursed your lips pensively before casting a sidelong glance his way. “Maybe like a pair of pointe shoes.”
“A pair of what?” 
 “Pointe shoes! You know, the shoes ballet dancers use?”
“That’s fucking lame.” Sukuna blew a raspberry at your idea.
“Oh yeah?” You quipped, biting down your embarrassment at his abrupt shut down of your suggestion. “What would you put on me then?”
The tattoo parlor was already closed by the time you and Sukuna stumbled inside, your excited giggle filling the deadly silent shop as he locked the door behind you and switched on the lights. He shrugged his jacket off, watching you carefully as you snooped around the store. 
“Why don’t you sit your ass down before you break something?” He grumbled, snatching a tattoo gun from your curious grasp before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs. You rolled your eyes playfully before sitting down across from him, swinging your dangling feet gently as you looked around. 
“So, what were you thinking then, boss?” You questioned, watching as he pulled out his sketchbook and flipped it open. Rummaging through the drawer for a pencil, he peered up at you with a raised brow. 
“I don’t know. Tell me something.” He murmured as he began a rough sketch. 
“Like what?”
“About you.” 
“Oh.” You looked down bashfully, toying with a run in your tights before shrugging at him. “I don’t know. Nothing to tell, I guess. I’m kind of boring.” 
“That’s bullshit.” He brushed off nonchalantly, not looking up from his book. You blinked owlishly at him a few times. Noting your silence, he continued. “I saw you dance— saw the look on your face. Can’t tell me there’s nothing to tell there.” 
You were taken aback by his astute observation, staring back at the way he concentrated so intently on his drawing. He didn’t look nearly as intimidating in this light. It was silent for a beat too long, and he glanced up at you, the sharp nature of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. 
“Well?” 
“Okay, well, um… I guess I just never know if I’m making the right decision? About anything ever?” You rationed with furrowed brows, trying to make sense of your own illogical feelings. “I moved here because of the dance program, because I thought that this was really what I wanted. Now I’m here though without all my friends and family, and I’m…”
“Lonely?” Sukuna finished for you as you trailed off. 
“I guess so. And, I mean, I know it’s supposed to be hard in the beginning, but I can’t help but feel like I made a massive mistake and my life is about to crumble around me?”
The sound of his pencil scratching against the paper filled the sudden silence that hung between you, but you knew he was listening. Taking advantage of his distraction, you stared unashamedly at his hunched over figure. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the black rings that were tattooed across both his arms. There was a subtle furrow in his brows, but for the first time since meeting him it wasn’t born out of anger or frustration, instead telling a story about his dedication to his craft.
You felt the breath get knocked out of you as you observed him. Frantically trying to veer back on topic before he noticed your creepy gawking, you cleared your throat before offering an enthusiastic smile. 
“Guess it’s just always been hard for me to commit to things.” You tried to wrap up your subtle sob story. “Maybe that’s why I’ve got no tattoos then, huh?”
He huffed out a breathy laugh, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly as he shook his head at your conclusion. 
“Is that what you want? You know, do this ballet shit for a living?”
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 
“Then to hell with people. If they give a shit they’ll be there whenever you come back.” He scoffed as though the notion offended him personally. “You’re too talented to hold yourself back for that kind of crap.”  
His nonchalant compliment made your heart pound just a little bit harder.
“What about you?” You asked breathlessly, shaking off the butterflies waging war in your stomach. 
“What about me?”
“Why tattooing?”
“Wasn’t good at anything else.” He answered simply, and his dismissal made you roll your eyes. 
“Come on, I was just very honest with you.” 
“Yeah, well you’re probably better at all that sap shit anyway.” 
Sliding off the chair, you walked closer to him and leaned your elbows on the work table before him. Propping your chin on your fist, you grinned knowingly at him, though he still hadn’t looked up from his sketch. 
“Maybe that’s why then, huh?” You assumed. He hummed in question at your vague statement. “You draw cause you’re not good at all the… ‘sap shit’. If you don’t know how to say it, you draw it, right?” 
The careful maneuvering of his pencil slowed before pausing all together at your read. Of course, he’d always known that his drawings were an outlet for him, having learned through years of repressed feelings how to convey words through lines and swirls. No one had ever explained it so… simply to him before though. Taking note of his forlorn expression, your lips curled up empathetically. 
“I do it sometimes too, you know— when I feel too overwhelmed to put my thoughts into actual words. I put them into my choreographies instead.” 
“Yeah, it shows.” Sukuna finally spoke up,  suddenly uncomfortable with the serious energy that had invaded the space around them. Clearing his throat, he put his pencil down before handing you his sketchbook with an awkward scratch to his forehead. “That ‘you’ enough for ya?” 
Your pretty, pink nails clutched at the edge of his sketchbook, slowly bringing it toward you as you soaked in his creation with parted lips. Right in the middle of the page was a snow-globe, flowers that you recognized as the same type he’d brought you earlier decorating the base of it. Inside though, was a ballerina in the very costume you had donned just hours prior on stage, one leg curled up as her arms curved softly around her in the perfect pirouette position. 
“Sukuna, this is…” Your voice failed you as you gave each detail another weighted once over. Blinking back the haze that threatened to form over your eyes, you looked up at him with a besotted smile. There were stars in your eyes, and he didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of them. “This is so beautiful. You’re incredible.” 
He tsked dismissively, trying desperately to conceal the softness in his gaze as he took in your reaction. 
“Why the snowglobe?” You questioned suddenly, glancing down at the sketch before flashing him with that eagerly curious grin. 
He opened his mouth only to shut it once again, not sure how to tell you of where his thoughts had taken him to while he watched you dance so gracefully across the stage. So, he simply huffed in feigned annoyance before snatching the book from you and jutting his chin toward the chair. 
“You questioning my artistic decisions now, brat?” He didn’t give you the chance to respond as you sat back against the leather chair. “So, where are we putting this thing?”
“Oh!” You quipped, suddenly coming to the realization that he was dead serious about giving you a tattoo. Anxiety creeped up in your stomach as you brought your hand up to chew apprehensively at your nails. “Um…”
“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out on me now.” Sukuna teased with a mischievous smirk.
“No!” You quickly defended, much to his surprise. “I want to do this— get over my fear of commitment, right?”
He hummed thoughtfully, brushing your jacket from your shoulders to inspect your arms. Grasping at your hand, he turned the inner side of your arm out to face him, purposeful in the way he allowed his fingers to trace up the delicate skin of your forearm. It made your breath hitch, his proximity allowing for a generous waft of his cologne to flood your senses. You clenched your thighs together in a manner you prayed was subtle. 
“I think it’d look good right here.” He suggested, grazing his thumb over the expanse of skin just above where your elbow creased. 
Taking in a calculated breath to pull yourself together, you quickly shook your head. 
“Can’t be anywhere too visible.” You explained, staring down at where his hand still wrapped around your elbow. “I mean, it can, but I’ll have to worry about covering it up for every performance.” 
Sukuna’s dark eyes glanced up to meet yours at this statement. His brows were raised in suggestion, an amused smirk pulling at his lips. 
“So your friends were serious about you wantin’ a ‘tramp stamp’ then? That what I’m  hearing?”
“I don’t want a— a tramp stamp.” You scoffed with flushed cheeks, but he was just too elated at how easy it was to fluster you. “I don’t know, where else do you think that can be covered up easily?”
Sukuna sighed, eyes trailing over your body in thought. It made you squirm in your seat. After a moment, he leaned forward to pull the lever on your chair, sending it reeling backwards until you were nearly laying flat. You squeaked in surprise, quickly grasping his arm for support as he smirked at your reaction. 
You watched as his hands came up to hover over the hem of your sweater before glancing up at you in question. Despite the way your heart was beating up into your throat, you nodded softly at him. It had to have been deliberate— the way he dragged your sweater up so agonizingly slow, assuring his fingers brushed against each inch of skin that was exposed on the way. You gulped as he paused just under your bra, and he was once again looking up at you in search of approval, to which you nodded silently, far too convinced you’d embarrass yourself should you speak.
With your approval, he tugged your hem up to rest just under your chin, trying to appear professional as he took in the sight of your bra-clad chest. The truth was though, that his thoughts were so very far from the tattoo at the moment, reveling in the way your breasts strained against the confines of your cups with each ragged breath you took. Your breathing had been growing heavier since the second he laid his hands on you— and he noticed each time. 
He trailed his hands up your sides, thumbs grazing over the divets of your ribs in a manner far too sensual to just be chalked up to searching for a good placement. As his pointer fingers traced where the wire of your bra met your skin, he hummed affirmatively. 
“It would look nice right here.” His raspy voice was almost a whisper now as he tucked his finger underneath the area of your bra just between your breasts, right over your sternum. 
A breathless whimper threatened to escape you, but you swallowed it back and looked down at where he had placed his finger. 
“Y-You think so?” You whispered, and he quickly nodded, gradually leaning over you more and more with the illusion of getting a better look. 
“Might be a little painful, but…” His voice trailed, as did his hand, escaping from under your strap to dance up your chest and neck. “I’ll let ya’ hold onto me if you’re good.”
You were sure your soul had left you at that point, off to find a body whose nervous system wasn’t utterly short-circuiting. Your knees drew together as you fought to maintain your composure at his suggestive words. 
“Sukuna, are we… still talking about the tattoo?” You questioned doubtfully, and the smirk on his plush lips told you you weren’t wrong. 
“Do you want it to be about the tattoo?”
“Well, it’s just…” He thought the way you stammered over your words was endearing, and it was sending all the blood in his system rushing down south. Glancing up at him timidly, you chewed on your bottom lip. “Would it hurt more if it’s… my first? You know… tattoo, of course.”
For the third time since meeting you, Sukuna was struck by the startling realization that he seriously didn’t deserve any of this. The hand that had been slowly traversing up your neck grasped at your jaw. 
“Well, I’d make sure you were good and ready first, doll.” He assured, eyes drifting down to stare longingly at your parted lips before meeting your heated gaze once again. “But you should always be sure you chose the right artist first, you hear?” 
And you heard him loud and clear. With your heart beat reverberating mercilessly in your ears, you nodded breathlessly at him.
“I trust you.”  
And oh, how hard he worked to assure you didn’t regret those words. Something told him you didn’t though— maybe the way those pretty, manicured nails were digging into his scalp just as his jaw began to ache deliciously in tandem with his mouth’s relentless ravishing of your perfectly supple pussy.
You were dripping down his chin, evidence of you tickling down his neck as he desperately tried to drink up every last drop of you. His colossal hands had come up to hold your trashing hips down against the chair after one too many jolts away from his eager tongue. The sound of his grotesquely sloppy, open mouthed kissed against your core filled your ears as you stared up at the ceiling blearily. 
You were so grateful that you always wore waterproof makeup for your performances, because you were sure your mascara would have been smeared unattractively down your face with the sheer force of your overstimulated tears. The saccharine moans that were hurdling their way from your throat made him dig his black fingernails into your stomach as he sucked on your clit as if rewarding you for the melodies. 
He grunted when the sensation made you yank at the roots of his hair, and you quickly gasped apologetically before releasing your tight grip. 
“Oh! I-I’m— ah! I’m sorry.”
Your disappointed whine made him smirk as his face suddenly emerged from between your legs to leer at you menacingly. One of his hands left your stomach to catch yours as it departed from his scalp, guiding it back affirmatively. 
“Tear the shit out if ya’ want— quit fuckin’ apologizing.” 
His words had your eyes rolling back into your skull, more confident now as you dug your fingers through his soft locks once again. The hand that had abandoned its post on your stomach never returned, and you instead felt it gliding purposefully up the inside of your thigh. Two of his long fingers sweeped up your weeping slit, gathering some of your arousal as his lips remained focused on your bundle of nerves. 
With a thrust that seemed so uncharacteristically careful of him, he dipped his two fingers into your sopping entrance. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, the heels of your feet finding the edge of the chair to pull yourself away from the subtle sting. 
“Easy, easy,” Sukuna rasped, tearing his mouth away from your honied center in favor of talking you through your unease. The remaining hand on your stomach began tracing soft, sensual circles against your silken skin. It made you slowly release your hitched breath, apprehensively relaxing back against the leather. “Atta girl, relax for me, yeah?”
You nodded deleriously up at the ceiling, head lolling to the side to watch what he was doing, not expecting to find his ruby eyes already focused on you. A flush fell over your face, hoping your expression didn’t give away how utterly torn apart he had made you with his tongue alone. A smirk tickled his glistening lips as you met his gaze, and he turned his head to press comforting, open mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 
After a few moments, his fingers began slowly pushing through the subtle resistance of your core. Casting a sidelong glance your way to catch your reaction, he gently curled his fingers up, digits massaging at the cusiony bundle of nerves at the roof of your walls, and god, how the blissed out popping open of your mouth failed to disappoint. 
Burning for a closer look, he rose from his knees to climb onto the tight space of the chair. It was by no means designed to hold two people— especially not when one of them is as abnormally overgrown as Sukuna, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t drink up those candied whimpers slipping past your lips. The steady pace of his fingers picked up as he hovered over you, taking a moment to soak in how beautifully debauched you looked just like this. 
“Sukuna—” You whined at the sensation of the steadily growing knot in your stomach, but he only offered a mockingly sympathetic nod. Your fingers dug into the soft fabric of his button down, clinging for dear life as he lowered himself closer to you until his lips brushed against your ear. 
“Call me Ryomen, doll.” 
And that was the very name that slipped from your lips in an almost strangled sob as you crumpled against him. His lips quickly found yours, though you were hardly able to reciprocate his kiss as moans continued spilling from you, falling into his awaiting mouth like a prayer. 
Much like the startled realization you had earlier that he was very serious about tattooing you that night, you were for some reason just as gobsmacked as you watched him rise with his knees trapping you in, purposefully unbuttoning his now wrinkled dress shirt as his hungry eyes stared down at you. He had pushed your sweater off of you just before burying his head between your thighs, and he was now reaping the reward of watching your breasts heave as you looked up at him. 
Your expression must have given you away, as it always seems to, as he stood up to work his belt off. The clinking of his buckle made your mind race, chest swelling with a feeling that you couldn’t decide was anticipation or anxiety. As he pulled the leather material through the loops of his dress pants and worked away at his button and zipper, he observed your horribly practiced poker face. 
He tilted his head to the side as his bottoms pooled at his feet, the outline of his erection now on full display for your already perturbed gaze. Maybe it was just because you’d never exactly seen one up close before, but, even through the straining fabric of his boxers, you were almost positive that thing wasn’t natural. Hiking yourself further up on the leather chair, you tried not to stare in a way that screamed fear. 
The motion made him pause, his thumbs slowly unhooking from their spot in the waistband of his boxers. A careful sigh escaped him, the tiniest of knowing smiles masking the subtle disappointment in his chest as he turned from you to pull up a stool. 
“W-What are you doing?” You questioned, watching with fluttering eyes as he leaned down to begin pulling supplies out from the drawer to place on the work table beside your chair. 
“I’m tattooing you— the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” 
Your mouth opened and closed much like a fish as you closed your legs self-consciously. His hair was still rustled from your fingers’ assault through it, and there was still a very prominent tent poking out through his boxers, though he still began prepping his station as though he hadn’t just been about to take your virginity in the middle of this tattoo parlor. 
“Well, um… what about you?” You stammered anxiously as he guided you by your shoulder to lay back. 
“What about me?” He murmured while pulling on a pair of gloves. 
“Didn’t you want to…” The words died on your throat, far too embarrassed to utter them aloud. Your eyes drifted to the side as you felt your face flush. “I mean you… helped me, so.”
Sukuna finally paused, tilting his head to look at you with a challenging raised brow. 
“I wouldn’t tattoo you in that chair cause you weren’t a hundred percent about it before. What makes you think I’ll fuck you in it when you clearly don’t want to?” His crude words only made your embarrassment grow that much deeper, but his fingers quickly came up to tilt your chin toward him before he winked teasingly at you. “Don’t worry— one commitment at a time, right?”
Your gaze softened at his consideration, even as he turned away from you to continue prepping his station. It made you forget how nervous you were that he was about to permanently mark you, but a small part of you already felt like he had. 
So, you allowed him to carefully pull your bra off when he asked, sighing wistfully as he pressed a longing kiss against each one before cleaning the area. Much like just minutes prior, he let you pull at his hair as the needle gradually began piercing your skin, laughing through your tears as he grumbled about how much of a wimp you were. His soft smile told a different story though as he sat still clad in his boxers and paused each time you needed to breathe, taking each opportunity to kiss and nip at your lips with the false pretense of taking your mind off the pain. 
You were sure the process was prolonged at least an hour longer than necessary with how long your breaks would last as he couldn’t bear to interrupt you as you nervously rambled about whatever came to your mind. As you began growing used to the subtle pain, you traced each of the black marks on his face as he worked with a fierce concentration. 
Pathetic tears of awe and shock spilled from your tired eyes as you stood in front of the mirror to observe his delicate handiwork. It was just as beautiful as it had been when he first showed you the rough sketch, though he would argue that your skin did it far more justice, chin hooked over your shoulder as he observed your reaction in the mirror. 
Sukuna scoffed at you when you tried to ask him the price, much to your mortification. He wouldn’t even look in your direction, busying himself with cleaning up the station as he pretended not to hear your countless protests. 
“You just spent like— hours doing this.” You gaped, through flushed cheeks as you jostled his arm. “Please, let me pay you.” 
“Wanna know how you can pay me?” He finally questioned gruffly, leaning back against the counter as he pulled you in closer to his bare chest. Breathlessly, you nodded, eyes unable to meet his as they were too focused on his curled lips. 
“Whenever you’re ready for your next big commitment,” He whispered, his warm lips brushing against the shell of your ear as you clung to his biceps. “Let it be me, yeah?”
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part two
a/n: got the inspiration for this yesterday, blacked out, and suddenly it was finished the next day oops
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I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜
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chibinasuu · 2 months ago
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Hello! I saw your req’s were open >.< so I was wondering if I could ask for a zoro or Sanji x sleepy reader. Specifically where reader is constantly sleepy and NEEDS their naps or they will be cranky like a toddler XD sorry this is just exactly how I am and I think it’s kinda silly <3 thank youu && I love your work
asdjkdlakdj this is such a cute prompt!! thank you so much for the request! i know you said zoro or sanji, but i couldn’t decide so i just did both :) 
hope you enjoy <3
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Much-needed Nap
Pairings: Zoro, Sanji x Reader (separate)  Tags: sfw, fluff, established relationship, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n
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Zoro
“Zorooo,” You pouted from your perch on the bench of the crow’s nest, “How much longer are you going to take?” 
The swordsman in question was doing some push-ups effortlessly in the center of the room, “I literally just started warming up.”
“Oh, come on!” You went over and crouched beside him, poking the hard muscles of his bare back, “It’s nap time.”
He paused and looked at you incredulously, “You already took a nap right after lunch!”
“I can’t help it that I’m already sleepy again!” 
“Well, go take another nap then.” He said, continuing his reps, “I gotta finish this set.”
“But I wanna nap with you!” You whined as you belly-flopped onto his back without so much as a warning, your arms clinging to his neck, “Now, Zoro!”
Zoro, the monster that he is, didn’t even stumble and continued with his push-ups as if there was no added weight of another person’s whole body on top of his.
“Fifty more.” He compromised. “You can stay where you are. Hell, you can just nap like that if you want.”
After a few more reps, he chuckled, “This is actually great training – I could use the extra weight.”
You swatted the back of his head, and with an exaggerated gasp, you joked, “Are you saying I’m heavy?!”
His movement actually stuttered as he burst into laughter, “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet you love me anyway.”
“That, I do.”
The motion of Zoro’s exercise had a similar effect on you as a rocking chair, and you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier. 
“...Forty-eight, forty-nine,” You vaguely registered Zoro counting, “Fifty!” 
He carefully lowered himself onto the mat and you rolled off him, “Ugh, finally.” 
Before Zoro could get up, you draped one of your legs and arms over him, trapping him to your side. 
Zoro laughed, “At least let me get dressed first.”
“No, don’t get up.” You snuggled closer to him, “I’m comfy.”
He squirmed to get you both into a more comfortable position. Now on his back with your head resting on his chest, he said, “Hm. Can’t believe I found someone who likes to nap more than me.”
“Seems like you met your match then.”
“Seems like I did.” He agreed.
It was dark when you were rudely awoken by Usopp’s shouts from below the mast, calling out that dinner was ready.
You sighed as you felt Zoro’s steady breathing, indicating that he was still fast asleep. You might be insufferable whenever you needed a nap, but your man was definitely more so whenever he needed to be woken up from his. 
As you gently shook him awake, his arm, which had snaked around your waist in his sleep, tightened even further. He buried his face into your neck and refused to open his eyes.
You let out another exhale. You could only hope that Luffy had not already inhaled all of the food by the time you two finally got to the dining room.
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
Sanji
“Hey,” Sanji called out, hands busy filling the kettle to make some tea for the two of you, “Do you want the blue mug or the yellow one?”
You were seated on the dining chair, your body slumped forward onto the table, arms pillowing your heavy head. It had only been a couple of hours since you woke up from your last nap, yet you could barely keep your eyes open now. 
The rain pattered on, the faint sound of it hitting the deck outside and the window of the dining room only added to your drowsiness. 
You had heard Sanji talking to you, but in your half-asleep state, you couldn’t find the energy to give him an answer. 
Sanji, still facing the stove, repeated the question in a slightly louder voice, thinking you hadn’t heard him. 
“I don’t care, Sanji!” You snapped as you put your forehead down on the table and closed your eyes.
Sanji paused, before immediately turning off the stove and putting away the mugs. Tea time could wait, he thought, but first, he needed to take care of his beloved. 
He walked to where you sat and touched your back gently to get your attention.
You lifted your head and looked up at him, about to open your mouth to apologize for your ill temper, but he already had a knowing smile on his face.
“Come on,” he said, offering his hand, “It's time for your nap, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry,” you sighed as you took his outstretched hand, “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Sanji only chuckled while he pulled you to your feet, “I know. You’re just tired, aren’t you?”
He led you to the plush couch on the other side of the kitchen, then sat down and patted his lap. 
You curled up on the couch, placing your head on his lap as you’d done countless times before. The cook’s delicate fingers automatically went to your hair, his gentle strokes slowly lulling you to sleep. 
“The blue one,” you mumbled sleepily, causing Sanji to reply with a confused “Huh?���
“I’d like the blue mug, please.”
Sanji smiled in amusement, “Sure thing, dear. We’ll get the tea brewing once you’re up from your nap.”
He touched his fingertips gently to his lips, then to your forehead, before returning them to your hair, “For now, sleep.”
You obliged, falling into a peaceful slumber, as you always do with him around.
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a/n: FYI, i'm currently holding a cozy holiday drabble event so please join and send in your requests if you're interested!! check out the details here <3
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occamstfs · 11 months ago
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Diet Diaries
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Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam
Monday March 21st-
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Andy:
I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~
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Steve:
Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 
Tuesday March 22nd-
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Andy:
My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.
Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~
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Steve:
Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.
Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.
Wednesday March 23rd-
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Andrew:
Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!
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Steven:
That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.
Thursday March 24th-
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Andrew: 
Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!
OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!
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Steven:
God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 
It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.
Friday March 25th-
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Steven:
Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.
I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..
Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~
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Andrew:
Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.
Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)
Saturday March 26th-
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Stevie:
Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-
Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 
I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-
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And Drew:
Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  
Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.
Sunday March 27th-
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Stevie:
Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~
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Drew:
My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.
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alilarew23 · 11 months ago
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assign yourself a new role
i know people can find states of consciousness a bit confusing, so here's a super simple exercise you can do to locate (and then be and persist in) your ideal self.
imagine somebody comes to you and says you can be anybody, instantly. you think--in terms of manifestation--well, i want to manifest my SP, so i guess that means i want to be SP's girlfriend?
ok, but what does that mean? what does that look like for you? what does that feel like?
well, i want my SP lovingly obsessed with me, spoiling me, blowing up my phone 24/7, buying me flowers and gifts and a ring, taking me on all sorts of fancy dates and trips, racing home to me at the end of the work day...
ok, so your new identity is "obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend."
i want you to imagine, now, you're on a movie set, and the director comes to you and says, "your job is to be THE obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend. i'm not giving you any lines, though. i'm not telling you how to dress or how to act. you gotta adlib, you gotta do it now, and you gotta keep doing it. that's it. that's the task."
you say ok, and you feel a switch go off within you, right?
you're no longer the person who's obsessively manifesting an SP. no. your SP is chasing you. you cannot get this man to stop texting you. you're thinking, "oh my god. he is such a simp for me, it's almost funny. he'll do anything he can to spend every second with me." you get home from shopping and--he left flowers on your doorstep? and a note? holy shit. your SP wrote you a love poem?!!?! and bought you tickets to ITALY?!
you probably feel...different...in your body, too. energetically. much more secure, powerful, maybe even sensual, a bit savage. focused on yourself and your goals, other areas of your life like friendships and work. all that neediness and yearning and pain just--dissipated. you're no longer the desirer. you're the desired.
feels good, doesn't it?
well, you just shifted your state.
that all took place in imagination, but it felt real because...spoiler alert...it is real.
you're not imagining to become.
you imagine and you are.
instantly.
so you continue imagining. not because you want to "get" your SP (though you will, by law), but because "obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend" is the identity you've chosen, and you love being her. it feels right to you, natural, effortless, authentic. feels like who you are, like your truth.
(also, you don't want to get fired by the movie director, who is the most badass person alive...oh, right, that's you, too).
this applies to anything, and doesn't need to be a singular identity. you can be "obsessed over, spoiled girlfriend" and "rich as fuck powerhouse crossfit champion of the world" and "the most sought after dog walker in all the land" and "baker extraordinaire" and "bestselling author with a three-book deal." these are all just states of consciousness, and your ideal self is all you assume you are, all wrapped in one.
have FUN.
be because it feels good, because it's true, because it's you.
your world will--because it must--re-shape itself around you.
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elexuscal · 6 months ago
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So just over a year ago, I made a resolution to myself to get better at Fitness, since I was getting older and i knew if i didn't, the Consequences would begin to manifest. One problem? Historically i have always hated working out.
i knew there were two main reasons why: 1. lingering trauma from the usual Fat/Neurodivergent Kid Mistreated In PE Class Experience 2. oh my god it's so so so boring i would rather do anything more entertaining.
So. I'm not an expert, and i'm definitely not a professional fitness instructor, BUT i have genuinely come to not just tolerate but actually enjoy exercise this past year. So if these are any problems you personally have contended with, these strategies May Help.
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One: Remove Barriers
a lot of flavours of neurodivergence struggle with switching between tasks and executive function generally, especially towards something you don't find fun. So first you gotta identify any barriers keeping you from exercising, and removing or mitigating them.
For me, a hurdle i recognised is that if I could not easily access the equipment, I was unlikely to use it. honestly if i couldn't see it i would probably forget it was there. So my first order of business was making a Work Out Zone. I unrolled my yoga mat and gave it a near-permanent place in my room. my weights came out of the closet and placed on a low shelf where i could easily access them, as did my resistance band. now they were always Right there.
I also realised something I detested was the general feeling of sweaty clothes, and in particular, having to change out of them. So Gross. so i started scheduling my work outs for in the the morning after breakfast or right before my nightly showers, aka: when I am changing in and out of my PJs. I'll do my routine (mostly) naked and not have to contend with the extra steps and laundry that sweaty clothes bring.
two: secondary entertainment
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like i said: i found exercise very boring. and while i've gotten better over the past year, and can find it meditative, i still prefer having something else to catch my attention.
i used to like to put on video essays. but then i realised i was so often pausing my work outs because the particular video ended, or the pace got slow, or the topic turned to something dark and depressing out of nowhere and killed the vibe, so then i had to stop to find something else--
No. You need something that will keep you in the zone, and won't knock you out of it. I didn't used to listen to music much, but this year i took advantage of a Spotify subscription my sister gifted me (😔) and started just putting on upbeat rock, hip-hop, and pop mixes. it doesn't need to be my favouirte music ever it just needs to Keep Going.
i do find the loud, rhythmic music is really good for keeping my pace up, but if music doesn't do it for you, you might find audiobooks or autoplaying favourite old tv shows/sitcoms might scratch that itch.
Three: Find Other Motivators
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Or, "if you can't make your own motivation, store bought is fine"
Gameification is really good here. You might be someone who'll benefit from a pedometer or step-counter app. I have a friend who swears by the Switch Ring-Fit, and I've also heard of folks who use games like Just Dance, Zombies, Run! and Beat Saber to rely on the sweet sweet endorphins generated by hitting a high score.
(BUT: do beware the dark side of gameification, which is the risk of demotivation if you don't hit your goals. For example, after doing GREAT on exceeding my step goal for a month, I got hit with COVID. For about a week and a half I was barely moving beyond the kitchen and back. My step counts plummeted, there was no way to edit the record out, and that made it harder to get back into the groove. Be mindful relying too much on gameification!)
Even outside of literal games, there are ways to scratch this itch. I used secondary objectives as a way to encourage me to keep up with my daily walks. Walking my roommate's dog when he was working long days is an obvious one, but we don't always have a furry friend at our disposal. Then I would rely on mini-challenges like, "pick up 10 cool rocks to paint", "fill this bag with wood for the fireplace", "take 10 pretty pictures", or "get to the corner store to get more milk".
And of course, consider team sports! Many folks I've talked to feel having set training/play times with a team that relies on them crucial to keep them on track!
Four: Don't Measure Success By Weight Loss
I know. I know. Easier said than done. It does not help that like 80% of workout resources online are going to mention this. but above all else, you must resist the beast. (and while not as dicey, measuring success by visible muscle gain can fall into a similar trap).
The biggest benefits to exercise are invisible. it improves cardiovascular health, brain function, tissue regeneration, immune system function, lung capacity, energy levels, literally our whole body. no matter what external changes your body does or doesn't go through, you're still going to be benefitting from exercise, and you do not want to get demotivated chasing unrealistic/irrelevant goals.
Instead, to track your progress, focus on questions like these:
How is exercise impacting my mood? Do I feel less stressed or anxious?
Am I sleeping better?
Is my balance improving?
Is my stamina increasing?
Am I becoming more flexible?
Can I lift/carry heavier weights?
Is my breath control improving?
Over the last year, I've seen marked improvements in all of these. My joints don't hurt as much; it's easier for me to to get up and move; I don't get winded as easily; I generally feel more relaxed and cheerful. Those are all amazing outcomes, and I hope that everyone on their own fitness journey can find the same joy there as I have.
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