#its not that i think they hate each other

[piper-2244]

the limit does not exist!

how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.

MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!

You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 

Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 

A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.

You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.

What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.

You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.

“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 

“I thought we agreed on an hour.”

“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 

He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 

“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.

“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 

Spencer hums in response.

“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”

“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.

“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”

“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.

“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.

“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”

You cuddle deeper in his lap.

“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.

“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”

Spencer takes a deep breath.

“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”

You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.

… 

Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.

You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 

“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.

“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 

You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.

He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.

“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.

“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.

“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.

You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 

“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 

He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 

“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 

“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 

You blush, unable to respond. 

Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.

“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.

“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.

“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 

It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.

After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.

His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”

You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.

He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”

Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.

You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.

Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.

This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?

This is how he sees you?

The thought is almost too much.

Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”

You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.

It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.

You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 

“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.

“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.

“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.

“I’m not.” 

Another one falls. 

You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”

Spencer lets you lie.

[osakanone]

Speaking as someone with a traumatic brain injury, I'm not sure that PSAs alone will never be enough. I do have an idea, and I am curious about your thoughts.

If you want effective change you have to reach out to the people either do not remember PSAs or more likely, don't read PSAs, who think they are good people but are actually terrible in ways they cannot accept and thus cannot grow from -- who chase respectability as social clout instead of making babysteps needed to get things done.

So here it is:

Your alternatives don't work for sociolinguistic reasons

Your chosen word of interest is an adjective form of a verb.

R-word can be used easily, interchangably and with little effort when someone is stressed because every form of it is grammatically correct and socially incorrect, which is what is usually craved in an insult.

Language is an ecology: A space of predator words and prey words based on which words replace each in their fashionableness.

As with any ecology, there are niches: pockets of success where a need exists and a word slips into the gap to fill it.

In Europe we didn't get your word of interest until the mid 2000's, and it was occupied by a form of the word spastic (the medical condition) shortened to the slur "spaz" (which I've been on the recieving end of many times).

Consequences create martyrs and those seeking to differentiate themselves will adopt waning or discouraged language to differentiate themselves (PSA culture got us edgelord culture).

When a word goes out of popularity is when another word which is significantly cleverer takes its place, which is more biting and more cutting.

A great example is how "the slur beginning in F ending in T" in many progressive circles is front-loaded with the expectation of one word, and then instead people say "fascist" and everybody smiles.

It is one of the ways of controlling language:

You take the second-association added to an instrinsic thing eg, the "other" meaning of gay used on xbox live) and you attach it to something else

You outsource sentiment to a different target.

You retire one word, and inject another which better aligns with your sentiment and intentionality.

You MUST do this in a way which punches up instead of down, or you risk watering down the perception of a word -- and you must likewise be able to answer the question "how is that <other word>?" on the spot with a single sentence and shut down a conversation.

Back to this context, I genuinely use

"mentally redacted",

This replaced my previous go-to

"mentally retired",

which I felt licked of ageism and made me uncomfortable.

Meaning, that something was censored or removed or deleted intentionally. I make this about thoughtless intentionality of action, not intrinsic nature of a person or their situation or whatever has happened to them.

It shifts from medicalism to mentality.

The imperfectionism of it is the scar-tissue of culture as words fall out of favour.

Maybe that's not good enough for Americans? I don't know!

Does it just read of hiding the word and playing slight of hand instead? Does it have some third other reason? There's no good answer here, I feel.

But it makes me personally feel one hell of a lot better about my slowness instead of slipping up when talking about myself and throwing a slur at the person I'm talking to.

I'd genuinely like to know your thoughts!

e:

There's a great bit in the notes by op about how swearing disrupts civility; disruption is the only way to make any protest get noticed. I will say, a slur is often just a culturally acceptable swearword, which again is miserable. I hate to say it but we do need to get meaner if we're gonna survive. We do need to invent our own words about the people who oppress us that are robust descriptors with ride recognition.

e2:

I came very close to using dysthymic as an insult to describe "I need more" greedy "more lanes bro" VC/corpo-brain types before realizing good people would be caught in the cross-fire despite the fact dysthymia is one of the major medical roots of their behavior and damn that is a hard one for me to figure out. The great thing about medicine is it gives us lots of great complex descriptors that are easy to look up. The downside is when we use medicalization as a callout or attack there is always friendly fire. An oppressor will never care about friendly fire, which means we are always stuck playing defense and its fucking bullshit and makes me so mad.

e3:

I really wish there was a way to make words which disrupted civility without... disrupting... civility... okay that's a paradox. Fine, then are there words which can disrupt anti-civility? I want those.

e4:

Found one. The crushing response. "human pet guy"

Since the r-slur is making a comeback (you know, the word that starts with R, has six letters, and ends in D), I'm gonna make a little PSA:

Yes, it's an ableist slur.

Terms like "asshat," "head-up-ass," "up their own ass," and "high on their own farts" exist. There's also words like crap, dogshit, half-assed, assclown, and chucklefuck. And on the less vulgar side, there are terms like ridiculous, nonsense, train wreck, pointless, insipid, self-absorbed, pretentious, annoying, boring, contemptible, vile, and disgusting.

Substituting words like restarted, poptarted, brain damaged, smoothbrain, etc. is still ableist, because either 1. you obviously still mean the r-word, or 2. you're still using disability as an insult.

[starry-bi-sky]

Okay so this is almost a direct copy-paste of my earlier reblog but only the Xin Yuan parts, because its long enough to be its own post and i want to share it! It deserves it's own post <3 typical starry stuff to write a 2k word long reblog, unfortunately.

I say almost because I went through to proof read and ended up adding more stuff.

I've been cooking on this idea for the last two days since I saw the Xin Mo!Shen Yuan post but??? I can't find anything on Xin Mo's backstory or how it came to be -- which means that's free fucking plot right there baby. That's a sandbox and im making LIFE SIZED CASTLES. I'm so excited.

The idea of Shen Yuan transmigrating centuries before the events of PIDW as Xin Mo -- but when he wakes up, he's not the sword. He wakes up in the body of a young boy named Xin Yuan. Now it makes sense for this boy to be a demon, but the drama, the intrigue, the spice of Xin Yuan being a human child.

SY wakes up as a boy below the age of ten, and the System tells him where he is, and SY is excited to meet his favorite protagonist -- only to gradually realize that he's like, a thousand years or so before the events of the novel. The rant he gives the system is legendary.

Bc what's the point of getting dropped into PIDW if he's never going to meet his favorite character??? This is a scam! BUT he settles into his new life, he's like, some orphan street rat or some other tragic airplane-esq backstory.

The system gives Shen Yuan his first mandatory quest: become a righteous cultivator. Which was like, kinda his plan/hopes anyways, except! There's like?? No official cultivator sects anywhere? The Cang Qiong Mountain Sect hasn't even been established yet, and there are pockets of cultivators running around, maybe some groups or schools popping up and then sinking back down, but nothing's really taken root!

If he asks someone how to become a cultivator, there's no straight answer. No "oh you can go to X to do that". He's pissed! How can he become a cultivator if there aren't any schools around to teach him? Deus ex machina, that's how.

Out of sheer luck, SY manages to help save a rogue cultivator, and promptly gets adopted by said rogue cultivator, who gives SY the name 'Xin Yuan'. He is ecstatic. And you know what? It's actually pretty fun!

He's getting to travel the world of PIDW in its early stages, and gets to see the building blocks for the eventual main story. He's discovering all this local flora and fauna that are foreign to his old world and unmentioned in the book, and he's learning cultivation! Granted, its unsafe, newly(ish) discovered cultivation, but it counts!

Wistfully, he thinks about perhaps he'll do something grand and get his name carved into legend. Something that would eventually help the protagonist later down the line in his quest for revenge.

The system remains silent to his thoughts.

But Xin Yuan doesn't take much stock in that daydream anyways. It's nothing more than fantasy to him; wish-fulfillment. He does discover however, that he is positively brimming with spiritual energy. Overwhelmingly so.

It's both a blessing and a curse, as it puts a strain on his meridians if he's not careful, and leaves him prone to qi deviations for the exact same reasons. He already has a heart demon or two from a few traumatic experiences in the past.

(bc hey! angst a day keeps the writer sadism at bay, and all that)

I'll say he's about... eight when he gets picked up by the rogue cultivator, who I'm calling Lin Kai bc he deserves a name. They travel around PIDW up until Xin Yuan is twelve, where he goes through a traumatic experience that results in a heart demon.

It's after that that Lin Kai decides to put a stop to his wandering, and find a place to settle down to raise Xin Yuan in. Coincidentally! They settle down in a nice mountain region that's thriving with spiritual energy. The mountains at the time were called something different, but they will be eventually known as the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect

Coincidentally, the mountain Lin Kai and Xin Yuan end up on is Qing Jing Peak. XY does not realize that the mountain he's on is Qing Jing. The System does not tell him. But he likes it there, more than he was expecting. And as much as he's traveled around, he really does enjoy being in one place.

He has a tendency to go down the mountain and help the village setting up down there, and when he's a teenager he starts venturing out more and more.

Xin Yuan forgets sometimes that he's in a novel, especially after settling down on Qing Jing peak. The system becomes remarkably quiet since there's no quests for him to do and not a ton of opportunities to get B-Points. He cultivates with Lin Kai, helps tend to the garden they're growing, goes down to the village to play with the other kids.

There's one boy he's best friends with, a boy whose not all that good with words, named Liu Zhihao. He's got potential for cultivation though, so Xin Yuan drags him up the mountain when he can so that Liu Zhihao can sit in on lessons with Lin Kai. He drags him all over the forest at the foot of the mountain to go look at bugs and animals.

(One time, when they're fourteen and Liu Zhihao has been learning cultivation for a few years now, Xin Yuan drags him out of bed late one night to go look at the stars. Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao about ascension -- something that still feels like a far off dream to many in this time -- that night, while they're sitting on the wet grass.)

("We should ascend together." Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao, jade eyes gleaming. Never let it be said that Xin Yuan doesn't love deeply, no matter what kind of love it is. He was always so lonely as Shen Yuan, Liu Zhihao is his best friend. "We'll become immortals, and then we won't ascend until the other is able to.")

(Liu Zhihao stares at him silently, his face unreadable. Then, quietly, he asks; "Promise?")

("Promise.")

When he starts adventuring outwards, further away from the mountain and the village, Liu Zhihao sticks to him like rice. Not that Xin Yuan's complaining, that's his best friend after all, and Liu Zhihao has become a formidable cultivator. He deserves to show off his skills.

He starts making something of a name for himself by the time he's, like, 18 -- although that name is in its baby steps, along with Liu Zhihao. They're slowly growing renown.

Perhaps XY uses his knowledge of PIDW and cultivation in general to help make advancements in the cultivation field. Although the system prevents him from sharing too much, it doesn't mean he can't practice it himself. Perhaps he's one of the first cultivators to develop a golden core. One of the first known immortal cultivators. One of the first to have a spirit sword.

(Although I don't know the logistics of any of this since my knowledge on xanxia/cultivation stuff in general is all still pretty new and google wasn't all that helpful lol.)

Either way, its my excuse to eventually make Xin Yuan come across as ethereal to other people. Peerless beauty SY for the win. Hs wifebeam is too strong, Xin Yuan has a line of suitors following after him and he's completely unaware of it. The rest of history is not.

Demon realm stuff has been stirring up since Xin Yuan was a kid, but at the time it was rare and in the beginning stages. Its been steadily ramping up and the system is sending him on more and more treacherous quests -- some of them mandatory, some optional. SY doesn't often take the optional ones unless it comes with a sufficient B-point reward.

for all intents and purposes though, he's a wandering rogue cultivator with Liu Zhihao, going from place to place to either help a town or village, or to discover more creatures or artifacts (although there aren't that many). Just all around living his life. He participates in a few major quest lines that are sure to get him mentioned in legend, even if it's a background character way.

(Unbeknownst to him, rather than being a side character in these legends, he's named directly. You can't become one of the first immortal cultivators and NOT get name dropped for clout.)

He has a spirit sword named Shā Mó, (杀 shā - to kill/weaken/counteract/reduce) (魔 mó - evil spirit, demon, possession). He routinely goes back to QJP to see Lin Kai, or to rest when traveling has worn down on him and he wants nothing more than to sleep somewhere he knows he'll be safe in. It becomes more frequent as Xin Yuan becomes more famous. Liu Zhihao often comes with him.

it all comes to a head though when the rifts between the demonic realm and the human realm become too great, and the balance between both realms becomes unstable. A demonic emperor's influence, wanting to merge the two realms so he could conquer both to satiate his own greed.

Typical evil king stuff. This comes to a climatic head in a great battle between every cultivator available and the demon emperor's army. Xin Yuan was one of the many who helped lead the charge.

In the end, it was Xin Yuan who ends up defeating the demonic emperor, but the rift that the emperor used to cross between worlds is destabilizing as well. Except instead of trying to close, it's getting bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow the heavens and earth and demonic realm whole.

You know how Yue Qingyuan's soul is bonded to his sword due to a qi deviation? Let's take it a step further >:)

Xin Yuan uses himself and Shā Mó to close the rift. However, it takes all of his spiritual energy to do so, as well as him filtering the demonic qi into his body to redirect it back to the demon realm.

In the end, Xin Yuan and his beloved sword Shā Mó fuse. Xin Yuan's soul becomes trapped in the sword. His physical body is unable to handle the immense amount of power it takes to close the rift, and is destroyed. He is immortalized in legend by his grieving cultivators.

(Liu Zhihao ends up ascending alone. He ascends with the hope that one day he'll see Xin Yuan again, even if it's in the face of someone else. Lin Kai does not ascend, too weighed down by the grief of losing his son.)

Xin Yuan, now Xin Mo, falls into a stasis. He's very confused and disorientated when he regains 'consciousness'. The system has been silent for most of his life, only popping up to give him mandatory quests, hints, points, or to answer any questions.

But once he wakes up, it cheerfully pops up again, congratulating him on completing the origin story of Xin Mo. SY freaks the fuck out. he'd shake the system screen if he could, but he doesn't have arms. or legs. or eyes for that matter.

He can sense his surroundings, but its all like imprints to him. He can sense the energies, but he can't see anything. It's all very disorientating and horrifying after years of being human. Like a sensory deprivation chamber.

The closing of the rift and the cycling demonic qi tainted both Sha Mo and Xin Yuan irreparably, and it did some kind of damage that resulted in SY needing to feed in order to use the spiritual powers. Kinda like how Xuan Su uses YQY's life force for it's spiritual energy, but instead of feeding on his own lifeforce, Xin Mo feeds on others.

The rest is history. Xin Mo is originally tied to the story of Xin Yuan -- believed to be all that remained of the man after he sacrificed himself to keep the realms separate. It's believed that the force of the realms closing permanently infused Sha Mo with demonic energy, turning it into Xin Mo.

But, like many stories do when faced against the tide of time, things get lost; chipped off; changed. Xin Mo is steadily separated from Xin Yuan, especially once it becomes clear how parasitic the sword really is, until they are all but separate entities themselves and the origin of Xin Mo's creation all but forgotten.

The years blur together when Xin Mo is not being wielded, and at first Xin Yuan was agonized by the fact that he stole the lives of all his wielders. He knows it's only a novel, but his decades spent in this life have softened him, and he's grown attached to the world around him.

But time erodes the mind like water erodes stone, and he becomes numb to it, then eventually anticipating of it. He forces himself to remember what he knows of PIDW's plot, and kinda fixates back on his old obsession on Luo Binghe. But while PIDW stays in his mind, his memories as Xin Yuan fall to the wayside.

Not forgotten, per se, but... tucked away. The system prevents him from forgetting fully.

Xin Mo isn't fully a demonic sword either i think, but instead harbors an ugly cocktail of both spiritual and demonic qi. Special circumstances and all that. Everyone just assumes he's a fully demonic sword because that's usually at the forefront, his spiritual qi weakened from the initial fusion and from years of not being fed spiritual qi. It's part of the reason his wielders always end up destroyed by him, other than the whole, yk, 'overwhelming qi' thing.

Nobody would recognize Xin Mo's human form as Xin Yuan other than some truly ancient demons. Of which Meng Mo might. But even that's iffy because there's a lack of surviving paintings of Xin Yuan, but also because of XM's demonic appearance and supposed lack of connection to XY.

Xin Mo has never spoken to his wielders before, not in the same way he does Luo Binghe. He tells Luo Binghe this, and he also tells Luo Binghe down the line that he is both spiritual and demonic -- something he also never told his wielders because there was no point to it.

okay okay i've got to end it here because its already gotten ridiculously long -- of which im both apologetic and unapologetic for -- but i DO think the Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan meeting (and reveal) would be fucking hilarious. Especially if SY has learned how to pop between sword form and human form by then -- although i guess it doesnt matter either way because SQH's reaction is still the same.

And that reaction is internally screaming and going "hey what the FUCK?? WHY DOES XIN MO HAVE A HUMAN FORM??? WHAT IS THIS??? SYSTEM??? EXPLAIN???"

meanwhile from his place on the sword hilt xin mo is squinting at Shang Qinghua in bewilderment and going "aren't you supposed to be dead" but doesn't pay too much mind to it because its not like its going to change anything.

...up until he catches shang qinghua going "WTF" silently from his little corner while all eyes are off him. One moment SQH is standing beside his king, and the next he's been tackled to the ground by one wild-eyed, human-shaped Xin Mo.

everyone, including SQH, thinks Xin Mo is going to kill him. It is a surprise to everyone when he does not, and instead dissolves into deranged, uncontrollable laughter after spitting out some phrase in some ancient tongue and watching SQH's eyes grow wide in recognition.

[classypauli]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬

Chapter 6

MASTERLIST

tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: Last night was… well it just was. And Tara wasn’t really happy about it, clearly.

tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, hangover y/n, angry tara, jelous, jealous, jealous

Tara always got what she wanted. Always. Did she think she was spoiled? No, not really. She didn´t think she was spoiled, she just hated the idea of not getting what she wanted and everyone around her knew it. Especially her sister.

She and Sam were the same yet so different. They looked the same, cared for one another the same and almost enjoyed the same things. But what they didn´t share was opinions and judgment. The viewing of the world and its look. The sentiment. But at the end of the day, things were thrown into the trash because they had nothing to do with love.

They would do first and last for each other.

These were the things that the young Carpenter appreciated the most. Having family and friends that she could rely on and trust. She would do anything to protect her circle of the people she loves. Why was she even thinking that way right now?

Because of her.

At the time Tara got home she already scrutinized the girl. Found out her name and birthday, her family and the names of her friends as well as her pet, which was by the way pretty cute but Tara didn´t want to get distracted and soft by that idea.

She checked who she follows and...

„This bitch.“ Tara whispered under her breath after she found your account in her following list. Of course, she already did that. Tara wouldn´t be surprised if she already texted you. Her fists clenched at that thought.

Her finger pressed the small round photo of yours to get into your page. Your photos and highlights loaded and Tara started to stalk. No, she wasn´t a stalker and she definitely wasn´t stalking you, she was just looking for her friend.

Friend.

That´s what you are now? To Tara you have always been someone close to her friends, you were in her friend group but she never took you as a friend. She got feeling she wasn´t your friend either but... she needed to take care of you because of her friends, no?

She clicked on the last post of yours which were some random photos you took like school and coffee, there was even Ethan who looked like he didn´t enjoy being photographed, the last photo was you with a headset around your head doing some weird faces.

You were pretty cute, yeah so what? She finally said that but that doesn´t mean you aren´t getting on her nerves every time you open your stupid mouth.

„Your right dimple is deeper than the left one.“

Tara´s corners of her mouth got up a little.

After that, she pressed the button of the comments. Chad was laughing at Ethan and also Ethan cursing you. The last comment is what made Tara´s smile drop. It was from that girl, an emoji with a heart in her eyes.

Liked by the author.

Sam was minding her business in the next room when she suddenly heard a loud sound coming from her younger sister´s room.

„What the hell is she doing?“

-

The bright sun shining through the window right into your eyes was the first thing your brain processed. Maybe if you were a little bit smarter last night and didn´t drink like an alcoholic you would be in a better state.

„Ugh someone help.“ you rolled on the side of your bed and stood up. You felt disgusting you smelled bad and your hair was everywhere. The clothes from the night before were still on you only now they looked all folded and wet from your sweat.

You grabbed your phone that was on your table seeing a lot of unopened messages as well as a low battery. Suddenly it started ringing signalizing a phone call.

„Hello?“ you said with your throat hurting a little.

„Y/N? Hey buddy, you okay?“

„I´m fine Ethan, I just woke up what´s up?“

„Oh, sorry! I was just a little worried about you I didn´t see you yesterday leaving and also didn´t hear from you so I just wanted to check.“ he said with a quick explanation.

„Oh I just drank a little more than I should have yesterday.“ you laughed a little still with not much energy. You just wanted to take a shower and go to bed again.

„You don´t feel fine? Should I come? I-“

„No Ethan it´s fine, I´m fine just a little exhausted but nothing serious. Don´t stress yourself.“

„Oh.“ he said quietly trying to read your voice. „If you say so, but if anything just text me, okay? I want to be here for my friend.“

You smiled at his words. No doubt he was your best friend. „Of course. Thanks, buddy.“

You grabbed new clothes and went straight to the shower. It was like an invisible relief that was washed off of you. After that, you put on some sweatpants with a hoodie and went to lie down again. Suddenly your phone lit up with a new message.

Demi: Hey you ok? I was worried ab you last night

Demi: when you wake up text me

Demi: Y/N

It was Demitra? Were you that much wasted that everybody knows it or what? Oh Gosh, you prayed that you didn´t do anything embarrassing what will everybody remember for the rest of their lives when they look at you?

And even though, why was she so worried, it wasn´t like you knew each other that long. But it was good to have someone to worry about you except your best friend.

Y/N: hey sorry to worry!

Y/N: everything fine promise

She immediately saw your text and replied to you. You spent a pretty long time just texting and lying around, having no energy to do anything more. Demitra was a good girl. She was attentive and soft-spoken. You weren´t an idiot, you saw that she was interested in you, otherwise she wouldn´t try to talk to you every time she saw you or texted you, right?

But was she someone you would go out? You´ve never thought about it not anyone. Maybe it was time to finally step up from this introverted state and go to see some new people. Who knows, maybe it will lead to her. The question is, would you be mad about it?

-

The knock on your door was a thing that tore you off of watching the TV. You kept lying down with a confused face. But the knock was there again only this time louder.

„Are you serious.“ you got up not wanting to leave your comfortable couch. Behind your door was Mindy and Chad with Ethan and behind him Tara.

„And what are you doing here huh?“ you asked as you opened the door wider for them to come in.

„Why are you asking so offended do you have someone in here?“ Chad said with a smirk on his face.

„Y/N why the hell is so dark in here? I feel like I´m in a cave!“ Mindy yelled as she went to your window to unfold the curtains.

Tara turned around and scrunched her nose. „Ew it smells so bad in here, do you ever open your windows?“

„Oh my and this trash, when was the last time you cleaned your house Y/N?“ Chad asked. Your nerves were getting higher with each word that left their mouth. Did you come to annoy you?

„You came here just to get on my nerves or what?“

„Y/N I bought you a soup.“ you turned to Ethan who was standing across the room with a small can of food. He was so cute that you would never forgive yourself if you said something hurtful.

„Thanks, Ethan you are the best.“

Chad sat down on your couch taking a controller into his hand. „And I´m not?“

„No, you are an idiot.“ you smiled vacantly at him. „And anyway weren´t you also drunk last night?“ you asked him.

„Well yeah but I guess I can just handle it better than you.“ he smiled.

„Handle it better my ass.“ you whispered under your breath with an annoyed look.

-

„How do you feel?“

You turned to the side seeing Tara leaning by the kitchen door. Her arms were folded and her eyes were focused on you.

„Fine, I guess.“ you said as you took another spoon of Ethan´s soup into your mouth.

She higher up her eyebrows as if she didn´t believe you. „I´m pretty surprised, you were like a different person last night.“ Your eyes widen at her words.

„No I wasn´t! I was completely fine!“

„Raising your voice is only making me sure that you don´t remember a thing.“ she unfolded her arms and went into your fridge.

„Yeah I forgot that you know everything.“ you shot her an angry look. „And what do you think you are doing?“

„Serving myself?“ she grabbed some snack that was there opened it and took a bite. „And yeah, I know because I was taking care of your drunk ass yesterday you idiot.

„So what? You want me to thank you?“ you looked at her with face puppy dog eyes. She rolled your eyes at your child's behavior.

„That´s what it should be.“

„Yeah like hell that I will thank someone like you. I don´t remember it so I´m taking it like it never happened to shut your short ass up.“

„What did you say you moron?“ she ran to you and slapped your shoulder with all her strength.

„Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?“ you stood up looking down at her with anger across your face.

„Me? You are the one that doesn´t have the basics or polite behavior!“ she yelled into your face with her big brown eyes standing almost on her tippy toes to look more intimidating.

„Will you two stop it´s getting annoying!“ Mindy yelled from the living room. You huffed before you grabbed the plate with your soup to leave.

Tara looked down at her hand and then looked at you. „Great now I have to use hand sanitizer!“

You pleased all the angels and every creature that can hear you for your help not to throw that soup at her at that moment.

-

Tara was sitting on your couch beside Mindy. You all were watching some show that was already on when they came in. Your eyes were barely open leaning your head on Ethan´s shoulder. Without her noticing Tara smiled a little at sigh.

„Can someone pass me that please?“ you asked with a low voice pointing at the snack that was on a table in front of you.

„You can get it yourself.“ Tara mumbled.

„But I said please!“

„So? That means you will get whatever you want?“

You just sighed at her words yet not changing your position. Ethan bent over to get it for you but before his hand was able to get it someone else already did that.

Tara grabbed the snack and threw it on you. Then she turned to watch the show again without any word like nothing happened. You just caught the snack with a small thank you. Everyone in the room saw this small interaction. Of course, they did it didn´t happen a lot of times that you two acted like friends, not like enemies. So whenever this happens they smile a little having some kind of calmness in their chests.

After the show, everyone went somewhere in the house leaving Tara still in the place. She was scrolling down on her phone out of boredom when suddenly your phone rang with a notification. That caught the brunette's attention. It was a message from the Instagram dm´s.

The girl looked up if someone was coming before taking your phone into her hands. Demi. Demi?! You were texting each other? Who did text first? Was it her? And what did you even talk about?

Tara desperately wanted you to just block her, she was no good. Tara hated her with all her heart.

This bitch just can´t get off, can she?!

[lipglossanon]

What If We Could

Best friend!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

A little more savory tier commission from @porcelainseashore and dedicated to AliBelleRosetta ✨

Word Count: 2404 (I’m not surprised at this point lmao)

Warnings: MDNI, neighbor Leon, crushes, jealous reader, light flirting, smoking, light voyeurism, teasing, half naked reader

proofread ✍️

Stepping out the back door, your breath mists in front of your face. The warmth of late summer has segued easily into the coolness of fall. You tug the sleeves of your overly big sweatshirt—one you stole from Leon although you can’t recall when—to make sure they don’t fall too low past your wrists. Thinking of your best friend brings a warmth—a tiny ember burning in your chest—and a soft smile to your face.

Looking over at his house, you're thankful for the millionth time that you guys ended up being neighbors. Stepping out into your backyard, you pick your way through the leaf-strewn path that runs between your yard and Leon’s. Glancing over, you take in the old oak tree with its tired rope swing that sits in the middle of both properties. 

It’s been years since it’s been used; musing to yourself, you think you must’ve been about eight years old when you quit playing on it. And the last time the swing was even used had to have been when you and Leon dared each other to swing as high as possible, then jump off. Wood smoke pervades your senses, and you breathe deep. It drags you from your reminiscing, focus shifting back to Leon’s house and, more importantly, to the open garage. 

Your fingers nervously rub across the mixtape in the front pocket of your hooded sweatshirt. Leon’s never had a bad word to say about your mixes, even letting you demo a few live in front of your home setup, but it always sends a frisson of nerves through you when giving him one—especially one you’ve made specifically for him.

Poking your head around the corner, you take in your best friend while he doesn’t realize you’re there. He’s frowning down at the engine, a smear of grease already staining the apple of one cheek. His fringe hangs low over his face, head tilted forward as he works on his Jeep. That low burning ember in your chest sparks to life. 

His blue eyes dart from part to part, mentally assessing his next move. His toolbox lies at his feet, lid flipped open and tools organized. Pushing off the side of the garage makes enough noise to draw his attention. A smile lights up his face when he realizes it’s you. 

“Hey! Didn’t think you were gonna come over today,” he steps away from the hood, grabbing up an old oil rag to start cleaning his hands. 

You shrug, “Didn’t feel like beatmatching today.”

You fiddle with the mixtape in your sweater before pulling it out. “Made you a new one.”

His eyes are soft when he walks over to pluck it from your hands. “Thanks. I think my last one is about worn out.”

He chuckles, and you grin a little bashfully. Throwing his arm over your shoulders, he guides you into the garage and over onto the ratty couch that’s been here forever. While you flop down onto the faded green cushions, springs groaning at the motion, Leon slips the new mixtape into his stereo. A heavy beat fills the speakers as he walks back over to join you on the couch.

“This one's yours?”

You nod, “I’ve got a few new tracks I’ve been messing around with.”

“Cool,” he relaxes into the cushions, head resting on the back. “Man, I’m tired.”

“Long night?”

“Kinda. Had to finish that paper for biology.”

Humming, you slip your shoes off and kick your feet up onto the couch. “I hate that class.”

He snorts, “Tell me about it.”

“Hey, Leon, I hate that class.”

He shakes his head at your sly smile, “Smartass.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“What’re you? Five?” 

You laugh, and he huffs a breath that you know is covering his own amusement. He pulls out a nearly empty pack of cigarettes from his pocket, smacking the bottom with his palm before working the last one out and slipping it into his mouth.

“Hey,” you perk up, stretching your legs out to prod a sock-covered foot at Leon’s leg. “I thought you quit.”

“I did,” he mumbles, lips pinched around the cigarette filter, hands patting at his jean pockets as he feels for his lighter.

Making a little hum at the discovery, he tugs it out of his left pocket, flipping the hinge of the zippo to spark the flint until a little gold flame appears. Cupping his hand, he takes a pull off the butt, snapping the Zippo shut with a flick of his wrist before blowing smoke from his nose. 

“C’mon, share,” you poke him again, and he clamps a hand around your ankle bone. Butterflies take flight in your sternum, insides fizzing like carbonated soda. 

It’s not the first time Leon’s caused this feeling. It’s something you’ve been avoiding by looking at too closely. 

“Say please,” he smirks at you, cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth.

You pout, and he runs his fingers underneath the hem of the leg of your jeans, calloused fingers brushing the skin. The fizzy excitement is back, bubbling in your sternum. 

“Please, Leon,” you murmur.

His eyes shift, the blue now a shade darker, while he plucks the cigarette from his lips. “See? How hard was that?”

Leaning forward, you take the filtered end and pull a drag off the lit cig. You both fall into a charged silence—not only sharing smoke, but a secondhand kiss with each pass of the filter between you two. Every now and again, Leon ashes the cigarette onto an old glass tray sitting on the floor. 

He keeps his hand loosely wrapped around your ankle the entire time, fingers mindlessly tracing across your skin. Feeling a little bold, you slip your other foot into his lap, and he hums. Giddiness at the action makes you a little lightheaded. 

He offers the butt to you. “Last one?”

You shake your head, “All yours.”

He takes one last drag of what’s left of the cigarette, then stubs it out in the ashtray. He lounges back on the couch, running his free hand through his hair.

“Actually.. what time is it?” He rolls his head to look over at you.

Squinting up at the silly cat clock on the wall, you read out the time. “You got a plane to catch?”

He rolls his eyes with a smile and gently pushes your feet off his lap. “No, I got a date with Heidi, said I’d pick her up at about six or so.”

Jealousy rears its green-eyed gaze and lasers you in its sights. The bubbly feeling from earlier sours, leaving confusion in its wake. 

“Oh.” The word slips from your lips quietly, softly. You thought they had broken up? Squishing down that nagging voice in your head, you clear your throat. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He stands up and holds his hand out to help you off the couch. 

“Of course, we’ve got history together.” You clasp his hand and let him pull you alongside him. “Don’t stay out too late.”

He chuckles and nudges you with his elbow, “No promises.”

Pretending that doesn't slice into your heart as well as buoys the jealousy sitting like a stone in your chest, you nod and step around him. As you head for the opening of the garage, his fingers tangle with yours and tug you to a stop. 

“Hey,” his voice is low and honeywarm when you turn to look at him. “Thanks for the music.”

He squeezes your hand gently, blue eyes searching your face. You can’t help but smile at him, squeezing his hand back. 

“You’re welcome, Leon.”

He grins, boyish and happy, then drops your hand to grab up his lighter and empty pack of cigarettes to stash them back in his pocket.

“Later!” He calls out, and you watch him head into his house through the kitchen door.

Cradling your hand to your chest, you walk back to your house, deep in thought with your tangled feelings. 

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Leon pulls into his driveway before the clock even strikes ten. He sits behind the steering wheel, eyes unseeing as he looks out the windshield. The date went off without a hitch; Heidi and he got along perfectly. But he couldn’t stop thinking back to you this afternoon. How you looked with a haze of smoke in the air, eyes glittering at him from across the couch.

You brought him another of your mixtapes, so shy and sweet—it’s cute, but he’s too chicken to ever tell you that. His heart lurched in his chest at seeing your face fall when he admitted why he had to leave early; it was telling in that you didn’t even realize you had done it. 

Climbing out of his Jeep, he digs out his new pack of cigarettes and decides to light one up before going inside. With his thoughts still on you, his feet take him around the side of the garage to the oak tree straddling the invisible line between your yards. He leans against the trunk, eyes flicking up to your bedroom window and almost choking on the smoke he blows out from his mouth on a sudden exhalation. 

The soft glow of the lamp on your nightstand bathes your room in a golden hue, fitting for the warmth mounting in Leon’s body. His eyes can’t stop taking you in, clad only in a loose shirt and sweats. He steps closer out from under the shadow of the tree to take a better look. You’re moving around your room, headphones over your ears, lost in your own little world.

Coming to a stop, Leon takes a long drag from his cigarette, slowly blowing out the smoke while he watches you dance around your room. You slip your sweats down and off, now only in your shirt and plain cotton panties. His heart pumps harder, pulse jumping in his neck. Leon knows he shouldn’t be peeping on you like this—knows he should turn around and go back home so you won’t think he’s some kinda pervert, but the temptation of you is too tantalizing. 

You bend forward to drop something onto your nightstand and glance up, locking eyes with him. Leon doesn’t move except to pull the filter away from his mouth to breathe out a smoke ring. You slowly stand tall, body language cautious. He’s close enough he can see you bite your lip, seeming to make up your mind as you tug on the bottom of your shirt.

He can’t stop the low groan from slipping from his lips; thankfully no one is around, when you slowly bring your shirt over your head and drop it into the floor. You stand there, like a vision, in just panties and a bra. He brings the cigarette back up to his lips to take a long drag. You tease your fingers underneath your bra straps, slipping them down one at a time. Leon’s heart is in his throat, eyes never leaving yours as you reach behind your back and undo the clasps. 

Once you bring your arms forward to let your bra fall away from your body, his eyes drop to greedily take in your bare breasts. Arousal pools in his gut while he stares at your soft peaks, your nipples hardening under his gaze. Cupping your breasts in your hands, you rub your thumbs over the tight buds, making him groan and run a shaky hand through his hair.

He drops the cig and stubs it out under his boot. Running his other hand down his thigh, he cups himself through his jeans, groaning at the pressure on his chubbed cock. He watches you bite your lip again, eyes fluttering when you lightly run your fingers around your areola before grazing your nipples. His palm presses harder onto his bulge, hips jumping at the dull pleasure. 

You smile at him, secretive and coquettish, bending forward again to pick up the shirt you dropped earlier. Leon bites back the disappointed groan when you pull your shirt back on, blowing him a saucy kiss before closing the curtains on your window. 

Leon shakes his head, arousal making his thoughts feel thick and slow. In a daze, he makes his way back over to his house and up to his own room. Deciding to take a cold shower before falling into bed, Leon knows that a line may have been crossed, and he’s not sure that he really cares.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Apparently it’s something neither of you are going to bring up. You were already seated in your usual spot when Leon came rushing in, minutes from the lecture starting. He shoots you his usual smile and a quick hello before pulling out his laptop and textbook. You frown at him, a quizzical pull of your brows, and he just winks. 

Shrugging a little, you turn back to the front of the class just as the teacher walks in, closing the door behind them. It’s silent between you two while the history lecture takes place. Once the lesson drags to a close, you wait for Leon to finish packing away his things. 

“You wanna grab an early lunch? I slept through my alarm and missed breakfast,” he grouses, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.

“Sure. Anywhere specific?” You fall into step with him as you leave the classroom, skin feeling warm when your arms brush. 

“Where’s that place that you found last week?” He pushes the door open, letting you exit the building first. 

“Oh, it’s just around the corner. They’ve got a decent selection, sandwiches, wraps, and the like,” you purse your lips in thought, and Leon slips his arm over your shoulders. 

Butterflies swarm your stomach, and you give him a side eye. It’s not unusual for Leon to do it, but after last night, you’re unsure of where you stand with him. 

“Sounds good to me,” he yawns. “Damn, I gotta start heading to bed earlier.”

Neither of you say anything about why he was up late, and by the end of the day, it’s like some weird shared dream that you may have had—distant, yet the feeling remains. 

And except for the times when you catch him staring, it’s business as usual, so everything’s fine between you two… right?

[sharticleaccelerator]

First, know that statements in my above reblog such as 'Clearly women don't care about them.' were rhetorical examples of the things that a young man influenced by conservative ideas might think, and so are not representative of how I think we should discuss the modern sex dynamic. This talk about men, women, and the dynamics between the two often times devolves into "Men (should do) this, women (should do) that, it's men's/women's fault" as if that's not a deluded way of talking about a society-scale problem. If a demographic underperforms in a sector, the sensible approach is to analyze that sector, determine how what may be contributing to the performance differential, then figure the best social change to restructure that sector to be more fair. It can be tempting to want to assign blame, but blame does not exist on this scale. No individual is solely accountable. The idea of holding a demographic accountable (blaming women/men at large) is just absurd. We cannot assign responsibility to a sex to solve a problem—men must participate in women's issues and vice versa. We need each other's efforts and votes.

So thinking about how the education system disadvantages men, you say that men generally hold the positions of power responsible for the structure of the education system, but that is not necessarily true. Women have always represented a greater proportion of teachers (at least since ~1890), but for nearly 8 years now have represented over half of public school principals (no data found for other administration staff). I can't find an official statement about the split in the U.S Department of Education, but independent sources estimate that over half of its employees are women. Women representing a larger proportion of teachers and staff likely accounts for the underperformance of boys in school, as students tend to do better under a teacher of the same sex—it might be tempting to say that means more men should go into education and so it is 'Men's fault', but as stated in my first paragraph such a thought is delusional. Men and women are not distinct factions.

I didn't say that the right wing is the fault of women. I said that the significant amount of vitriol towards men has had a role to play in pushing young men away from leftist politics, and that the pattern of overt hatred towards men in leftist spaces dissuades men who witness it from participating, but I didn't assign that to women. I assigned it to misandrists. It just happens that most misandrists are women.

We can absolutely fault sexist women who are hostile to men only because they're men. We must fault sexist people. You would ask the same of me, who should fault men who are remorseless about how they hurt the women in their lives. You said it yourself, 'someone who will get hate spewed at them, to try and reach out is a lot to ask.' You can't expect men to participate in progressive discussion if that discussion is accepting of open hostility toward them on the basis of their sex.

I'd like to challenge some of the ideas you hold about the ways you think that society advantages men. The gender pay gap is very coarse data, and often used in ways that reflect a poor understanding of what it actually represents. That women have to earn a greater degree to receive the same pay from the same job comes from a misinterpretation of the Department of Labor's data. The Department of Labor's data does not consider position, only sex and education level. I won't say that a pay gap for the same job doesn't exist—I simply don't have the confidence to say—but the reality that men on average value income more than women in choosing a career likely contributes to what the data actually represents—a reflection of pay differentials between the fields of careers that men and women are respectively more likely to pursue. This still is sexist—it has roots in the devaluing of 'women's work'—but if you pursue a particular career, the difference between your pay and the pay of your male peers will be much less than the gender pay gap indicates. That's assuming it exists at all; some places women out-earn men by the same metrics. It's a good point you make about women suffering greater loss of earnings with children, but in the cases where having children—and more so taking upon themselves the greater burden of child-rearing within their relationships—was a choice, I have a hard time rationalizing this as unfair to women who willingly made that choice. In the cases where children aren't a choice, you're right.

Men are not over-represented in higher education. You give that there are some isolated cases where they are, sure; those are exceptions. In the larger picture women are representing a greater percentage of college graduates each year, and have outpaced men in this regard for the last four decades.

Much of what you hear about the ways women are victimized are played up by people who want to be victims because they're drunk on justifying their hate. This isn't for some radical take like 'sexism is fake', just a reminder that solving real problems requires being rooted in reality. All the more reason to block the detached, chronically-online radfems you see. I wish I'd realized I was replying to one, but then I suppose wouldn't have had this dialogue with you. Silver lining.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[galedekarios]

i don't know how to put this into words yet so it makes complete sense so bear with me while i gather my thoughts, but...

i think a lot of the criticism i have re: decisions bioware made with veilguard are (at least in part) the company's direct responses to the (in my eyes) often unfounded and disproportionate hate that inquisition received from the fanbase.

[yanmuffins]

asks 2.

context.

here are some more asks i'm replying to in a bulk about phineas and ferb reader!!

my favorite part in dc. vs vampires is when reader comes together with damian and damian to build a silly machine that un-vampifies people in like half a day so they can defeat the vampire king. it is canon.

@amethystjellyfish

perry really is reader's number #1 stan. they're his family, reader's had him since he was a small platypus baby!

he does his best to keep reader safe, which is why he doesn't like the batfam much. he keeps it professional on the rare occasions they go on missions together, but that's it. he hates how dismissive of reader they are in the beginning, and he hates them later on when they star showering them with attention because they found out about their inventions.

not tired, anon! i love seeing people enjoy my concepts and interact with them!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

and i'm sure this has happened. more than once, actually. the power of coincidence is strong with reader. the life-saving laser beam comes from a situation involving reader's latest machine they built and tested with the help of jon.

unfortunately, one of his lasers richochets on the machine during testing, not only causing it to save batfamily's life, caught in a dangerous situation in a completely different location, but also destroys the machine so there's nothing to link it to reader.

ah, well. they'll just have to keep looking.

reader, seeing them run past her: oh! there's perry :)

i love how we have established tim is terrified of this platypus. nevermind the other pets in the manor, it's the platypus with its googly eyes that drives him insane. they don't get it, he got up to drink water at 3 a.m. and the thing was just there, looking at him. menacingly.

jason would though. meanwhile, perry is wishing he could just go back to metropolis. he didn't have to deal with reader's siblings in metropolis. he doesn't get enough hazard pay for this.

hm... good question!

i like to think that, much like with phineas and ferb, luck is on reader's side most of the time, so i don't see reader getting injured by their own inventions.

but, let's suppose they do: it's a nice sunday afternoon, the batfam has decided to gather around the living room and hang out, watch a movie, lots of popcorn and soda. they don't have to think about criminals or fighting, tim and damian are bickering, jason is around, peace reigns the manor.

until they hear an explosion. they run to the garage only to find reader on the floor, unconscious, bleeding, and an assortment of destroyed metal components to a machine they can't decipher. damian doesn't even feel good about reader finally being busted.

later, when reader is back home, awake and out of risk but with a bandage around their head and their leg in a cast, they're in for the biggest (and probably first) scolding of their entire lives. reader tries to play it off. it wasn't that big of a deal, they're fine, aren't they? and they're genuinely optimistic about it. but the entire family is talking over each other at first, until bruce signals for everyone to shut up and leave the room. he has a very serious talk with reader, and makes it very clear they're not to come near a toolbox ever again.

but he understands. it's partly his fault for not being attentive. he won't make that mistake again.

ofc reader is really upset. dick comes next, then stephanie, then cass, then duke, then barbara and they all try to convince reader in a much more amiable tone that hey, it's fine. who needs to do all that whacky stuff to have fun? just hang out with us. they can get another hobby, and this time they can make it a family thing! how's that sound? not fun? don't be like that... they're sure reader will come around.

tim is pretty much the only one who congratulates them for being awesome pulling all those stunts, one per day, it's impressive. but now it's time to step back a bit. who knows? try being careful and bruce will let you work with a welding tool again. one day. maybe.

damian and jason's reactions are more similar to bruce's. in other circumstances, damian is on reader's side and helps them sneak around to continue their shenanigans, but in the case of reader getting hurt he just wants them to not do that. any of that. ever again. and jason has to hold himself back not to snap and ask them what the hell were they thinking?! they could have died! he ends up just telling them to quit it. they're just a kid who shouldn't be messing around with that sort of stuff.

anon, i wouldn't go as far as say he'd use venom against them, but he's bit batfam before. as stated, he does not dig their vibe at all!

anon, that's a great idea! though i think p&f! reader is much too motivated by the creative process and experience that their inventions bring more than just willing them to come to life.

they have the power to create whatever they want, but what's the fun of it? what about hte process? the building? the friends they make along the way? the memories? i think reader would find the ring awesome at first, but the novelty would wear of in less than a week.

anon...

because i dig the idea of reader being friends with dipper and mabel. reader talks about their crazy inventions, and loves hearing about all the cryptids they came across during vacation.

reader invites the twins to the manor, they share their most recent summer memories. reader talks about that one time they built and drove a massive monster truck with their brother damian, but jason only comes into the room in time to hear about dipper and mable talk about the weirdmaggedon. he has several question marks around his head. aren't those kids a a little too old to be making shit up? or maybe... no, there's no way. or is there? no... he would have heard about this... but weirder things have happened. but what if...

@randomlyappearingartist

you are so right. to be honest, i don't even think the batfam would even know of his existence, since he's pretty much a very minor villain acting in metropolis. after perry joins the league, or in the rare occasion of dr. doof teaming up with another minor gotham villian like condiment man, is when they get to know he exists.

and since perry seems to have him under control, they don't even acknowledge the guy.

i love love love this sm!

they assume it's just flash mobs. it's got to be. flash mobs with really weird themes, like an entire musical number dedicated to the squirrels in damian's pants. that was strange. bruce patrolling in the middle of the night and this new crime lord just burst into a song with a band and hired back dancers, because it's apparently a new trend a minor villain in metropolis started.

and what about that one time dick took damian (and reader) to the library and some guy just started singing about how he doesn't have rhythm? and damian just started playing a trumpet? and reader started singing? i mean, it was a bop and he started dancing, but it was weird anyway.

but now i'm thinking of damian and reader singing the "summer" song together (he sings the "it's noticeably warmer" and that's it) though! wholesome.

@lazyandannoyng

not annoying at all! you're good ⸜(˙꒳​˙ )

i have this little idea in my head that reader doesn't take the wayne name when find out bruce is their dad and move to gotham, and bruce is pretty secretive about this new kid of his for purely privacy and safety reasons. so when reader does their networking, it's often not obvious they're a wayne. not sure if this will make it into the fic, but it really resonates with this concept!

it's also funny to think that a lot of people don't even know reader and the waynes are related. even if they do know reader is related to the batfam, nobody really talks about them by name (just "your sibling"), and all of those little details like never asking about where the gloves came from (because why would he) or the misunderstandings where one party means one thing and the other assumes it's another (dick has many siblings! too many!) just end up helping reader not get caught. and i just think that's neat.

[anethiawoods]

playing slay the princess as intended (watching your friend stream it and then roleplaying as improvised ocs for each of ur runs)

[its-cunt-dracula]

"the misandric website"

"gender wars"

the fact that is mentions misandry twice with no ounce of irony but misoginy isn't mentioned at all. very telling

this is so male right activist coded i cant

do they not hear thenselves?

gender wars like both sexes are hurting each other and its not just men subjugating women

go fuck yourself

"it's been compared with the incel movement by scholars"

are the scholars in question in the room with us right now? are you the scholar?

they think avoiding to sleep with them and do their laundry is a hate crime on par with incels' actual violence against women

my goood!

I can NOT fucking believe i am watching this shit happen in real time.

Overnight I've watched the wiki page for 4B go from a single line of text describing it as a feminist movement and four more lines beneath it explaining the rules, to now it being a several paragraph screed about how it is a terf riddled, transphobic, transwomen hating movement made intentionally and with the sole purpose to stop women from having sex with transwomen.

The article editing history shows this all being done overnight. It also shows it mostly being done by a single user who INTERESTINGLY ENOUGH has been flagged multiple times for getting into editing wars on the CIRCUMCISION and FORESKIN wiki pages!!!! You cannot make this shit up!!

American women only briefly floated the idea that they shouldn't have sex with anyone that can get them pregnant in a time where pregnancy could be a death sentence and like fucking LIGHTNING these folks come out the gate to shut it down in every way possible.

[monimccoythings]

How the other X-Men (97') would react to Logan's crush

I need more X-Men 97's Logan. Mostly Pre-established relationship. Just some rambles about some of the other X-men reacting to your mutual crushes because they are all a big family of busybodies lol.

tag: gender neutral reader (mostly)

You didn't have the best first meeting. You had accidentally drank the last of Logan's beers, and the burning anger in his eyes would take time to forget. You had felt so guilty afterwards that the next day he found a crate of imported beer in his bedroom.

When he first started developing a crush on you, Morph liked to tease him changing into you in different forms of suggestive positions wearing all kind of revealing lingerie, which made him blush. Hard. He tried to act all though pulling his claws out threateningly, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he was as red as a tomato.

He wasn't sure what started that crush, he guessed he started developing it without noticing. Maybe it was your good looks, your kind nature, your bright smile; who knew, but something about you drove him to you like a moth to a flame.

Ar first, Logan would be a bit conflicted due to his deeply rooted feelings for Jean. He felt like he was betraying her in some way, despite Jean being married to Scott. Unbeknowst to him, Jean, is one of the main supporters of his relationship with you and is always hijacking with Storm some way for you two to be together. Once, she got tired of your antics and practically psychically shoved you against him.

Storm is the chillest about it, unlike the overly enthusiastic Jean. She is very patient, she knows you'll end up together one way or another. She just has to wait. She still joins Jeans shenanigans because it's really fun.

Scott is more protective of you in a big brother way. He initially doesn't like that Logan has taken an interest in someone he had always seen as a little sibling. He knows how Logan can get, and how much he had pinned after Jean. He doesn't want him to hurt you, it would take a real genuine proof of his love for you to convince him. And something small wouldn't do, it has to be this big grand selfless gesture for him to actually believe it.

Charles, unlike Scott, thinks that you and Logan are a great match. You seem to bring the best out of each other. You calm Logan's never ending rage and Logan encourages you to be more bold and come out of your shell. You are like two puzzle pieces, you fit perfectly together.

Rogue is constantly teasing you about Logan. She has noticed how he gets more awkward when you're around, how he doesn't snark at you as much as he usually does to the others. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was being shy.

Remy is the one usually trying to give Logan advice on how to properly woo you, which usually goes ignored because of Logan's own pride and refusal to admit he has it deep for you.

Jubilee is a die-hard shipper. She gave you the most ridiculous ship name. Logan hates it. She, Storm, Remy, Rogue and Jean, usually meet up to discuss about you two like a bunch of teens. This is literally them on each meeting:

When you finally stop dancing around each other and start dating, he finds he's unable to keep his hands to himself. Watching you make breakfast, humming to yourself in an oversized T-Shirt and booty shorts that perfectly clinged to every delicious curve of your juicy ass like a second skin, put all of Logan's already thin self-control to test. Missions surveys get really awkward if he's seated next to you, his hand always finds its way to your thigh. Hank joked that he should give him 'the talk', which he took it as well as expected.

Roberto is the one who thinks 'what the hell do they see in him??'. He doesn't get how someone as cultured and kind as yourself would ever get interested in a caveman like Logan. But he keeps his thoughts to himself because he'd rather keep his head on his shoulders.

Logan may not know what started his crush, but he sure as hell knows when he realised he loved you. It wasn't a great sacrifice or something epic as anybody would expect. He just saw you doing the most mundane thing in the world, be it painting your nails, taking care of the garden, or getting to the best part of a book you've been reading. The second he saw that glint in your eyes and that joyful expression, he just knew.

[saturnsorbits]

In Another Life

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen, Warnings: Rough Sex, Hate Sex, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Mentions of Geto x Reader/Gojo. Word Count: 5.5k.

Summary: After a near miss with Megumi lands him in the infirmary, you find yourself back at the place you said you’d never return to.

A/N: Honestly, Gojo is a bitch to write for me. There's something I was trying to do here, hopefully it worked.

Rain bounces off the concrete. It hammers at your umbrella, collecting in the sagging canopy that is held aloft by bent metal spokes. A fight surrendered. You cling to its handle, sheltering under its non-existent protection as the front of your t-shirt fades to a dull translucence. Each of your steps spits up water that collects into puddles in your shoes, dampening your socks and putting a squelch in your stride as you continue down the road.

You don't care how much the puddles are soaking your legs. You're too angry.

You're angry a lot lately.

Since it happened, there's been a numbness spreading through you. A hollow that you can't fill no matter how much you eat, or drink... Or hurt. Your heart, once a delicate and proud thing, is shattered. Its fiberglass shards an ever present ache that only seems to deepen with each breath you take without him.

Approaching the main entrance of the Gojo estate, you find the gate unlocked. Beyond the path is immaculate. A thick cobbled road twists through the grounds connecting the main building to it's out houses, bordering the neatly styled gardens and surrounding the large pond stocked with expensive koi.

There's a catfish in there too, somewhere, one that's far outgrown its water-mates. It must cost an arm to feed, but you doubt Gojo minds; there's no way he'd get rid of it.

You clench your jaw.

It's from a distance that you finally spot her. Leaning against a wooden pillar on the back porch is the familiar figure of Shoko Ieire. She's backlight by candle light, a shadow of herself as she watches you with tired eyes. There's purpling to her skin, the etch of exhaustion ever present on her features now. A cigarette is balanced between two of her slender fingers, already half smoked to ash. She raises it to her lips as she watches you pass, a vulture on her stoop.

You don't speak to her. You never do. But, before you can vanish from sight, she sighs. 'You're only hurting yourselves... Fighting won't bring him back. No matter how much we all miss him.'

Her words are seeds, burrowing into the soft flesh at the back of your neck. They'll sprout there no doubt and eat you from the inside out, creeping into your sinew until you can think of nothing else... You block out the thought. Instead turning your attention to your chosen method of abuse and the flicker of rage still alight in your chest.

Hurrying now, you don't bother to avoid the squeaking stair that leads to the front door of the outhouse. There's no point. His eyes have followed you since your umbrella broke almost thirty minutes ago, since before you left Jujutsu High with tears still glistening on your cheeks, since before you dismissed Shoko and wrapped a blanket around Yuji's shoulders.

The door opens.

'Who did I piss off to deserve a surprise visit from you?' Gojo Satoru is shirtless and smirking. The plain of his chest is broad with lean corded muscle that is almost entirely scarless: a luxury only he can afford. Standing aside, he raises his eyebrows above his blindfold. He likes it when you're angry. 

Angry is easier than the other thing.

You barge your way past him, catching him hard on the shoulder as you go. 'You're fucking out of order for sending him in there like that.' Tossing your bag, you wheel about on your heel readying a second volley of vitriol. 'He's sixteen and you sent him on a fucking special grade case. It's a miracle he's in the state he is and not dead.'

Gojo closes the door, shrugs. 'He's not dead, consider it a… Learning curve.'

'A fucking -.' You bite your tongue. Draw blood. Taste metal.  'Are you insane?'

Gojo smiles. 'People have called me a lot worse.'

Bile licks at your stomach, promising a brutal climb up your throat. You ball your hands into fists, basking in the bite of your nails against your palm. You'd hit him if you thought it would do any good. Instead, you go for his jugular with the next best thing. 'He'd be so disappointed in you...'

Gojo stills.

The words sink into Gojo's back and slip between his shoulder blades. The muscle there locks, knotting as he refuses to turn and face you. His breath is tucked away in his chest, wedged between his third and forth ribs. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper – a broken sound that creaks through his lips. 'Don't do that. Be angry with me, but don't do that.'

A win. 

The fracture in his armor shines bright, allowing you to dig in further. 'This is what tipped him over the edge, Satoru. This needless fucking sacrifice.' 

The words repeat on you, anger clawing at your stomach again. You can still feel it. The blood seeping through your fingers had been hot and sticky, flowing steady no matter how hard you pressed against his chest. The smell of blood is cloying, lingering even now as the memories attempt to drag you back.

He'd looked so broken. His body a dead weight on Yuji's shoulders as he'd carried him to the infirmary, picking his way across the courtyard through tears. You'd held the boys insides closed as well as you could, hoping that it would be enough.

It had taken hours.

When Shoko had done all she could, she'd sat down beside you; her throat dry, hands steady despite the shake in her voice. 'He's out of the woods, the rest is up to him.'

You blink tears from your eyes and watch as Yuji bends himself into the curl of a question mark just to link his little finger with Megumi's. 'Do you remember when he was little?'

He looks like that now, you think. Young. His face is a picture perfect imitation of the youth he's been cheated out of. His bird-bone chest fragile, stuttering out uneven breaths in a manner that betrays his injuries. In-between his eyebrows a notch of tension subsists, creasing the skin and ruining the childish pout placed delicately on his lips. Yuji reaches out and presses his thumb to the wrinkle, smoothing it out with a gentle stroke.

'He was always serious, even then.' Shoko mumbles. There's the smallest glittering of fondness in her eyes when she thinks back to the small child they'd all first met.

He'd been a shock that's for sure. Barely ten and striding beside The Gojo Satoru like he couldn't care less. His upbringing had already hardened him to the world, but even that wasn't enough to prepare him for what was ahead.

You'd watched him grow from that small, insolent child to a young man with a bleeding heart. The same heart that often lead to... Well, this.

The numbness in your chest stirs. How often have you been sitting here? How often have you watched white sheets be pulled over broken bodies? Your fellow sorcerers fighting for their lives in metal beds? 

It's on days like these when his old rhetoric tastes sweet on your tongue.

Turning, Gojo fixes you with a cold stare.The shine in his eyes has gone flat, leaving nothing, but the glacier behind. He’s challenging you, forcing you to bare witness to the eye of the storm - the Gojo Satoru that everyone is so, so scared of. 'Do you really think I enjoy it?’ 

You lick the inside of your mouth and taste venom. ‘I don’t know. Do you?’ 

His shoulders sag. ‘No.’ 

‘Then, why.’ 

There’s laughter basking on the back of his tongue, it lingers there tasting sweet until he swallows it. Holding his arms out, he crucifies himself - a false God standing before you, out of place in his own living room. ‘I’m Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer - last of his line, inheritor of both my clan's great techniques.’ 

‘You’re boasting.’ 

‘Admonishing, actually.’ 

You snap, tiring of his games. ‘You -.’ 

The tips of his tongue finds his teeth, caresses them. ‘I,’ he spits. ‘Can’t save them all, so what am I supposed to do except prepare them?.’ 

‘Is that what you’re going to hide behind? Really?’ You seethe. It’s the same excuse he’d given back then, back when betrayal was a word you used instead of a name - except now, you know it’s all bullshit, not just the sad words of a terrified boy. 

Gojo chuckles. Sinking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he bunches the muscle of his shoulders into a shrug. ‘What then? Stop the curses? Jujutsu? Or maybe it’s the people I should -.’ 

‘Careful…’ You growl. ‘You’re starting to sound like him.’

‘So are you.’ He tilts his head, considers you for a breath too long. He shouldn’t have made it personal, but it’s hard not too when he can hear his words in your voice. ‘You’ve been sounding like him for a while.’ 

Letting your eyes drop to the floor, you speak to the ground. A moment of weakness you know will cost you. ‘I know you think you were the only person who loved him, but you aren’t.’ 

‘Oh, I know.’ Gojo snorts. It’s an ugly thing, a break in the lul that cracks you over the head like a whip. He’s decided to make it bitchy, he might as well draw blood - it isn’t as if you’re not looking for your own pound of flesh. Licking over his lips, he lets them curl into a smile. ‘You were always barking at his heels. I was barely able to get his cock down my throat without you walking in.’ 

You choke, ‘You -.’ 

‘No,’ he relents, before doubling down: hard. ‘But if it was going to be either of us we both know it would have been me.’ 

‘Oh, fuck you, Satoru.’ 

‘Will I do? Not much of a substitute for our dear -.’ 

The bow of your heartstring breaks. You’re not sure you could take hearing his name fall from Gojo’s lips, so instead, you shout. Cutting him off, you submit to the anger winding its way up your legs. It sneaks through you, hijacking your veins and making your entire body burn. ‘You’re fucking insufferable, Gojo Satoru the strongest fucking sourcerer, you’re just an immature, arrogant prick underneath it all, aren’t you?’ Your chest is heaving, the barbs Gojo has dug there sting leaving you breathless and bleeding. 

Gojo shrugs again. 

‘You never fucking cared, did you? Not about Megumi… Suguru.’ 

You don’t see him move, but you feel him. His chest presses into yours forcing you back against the wall as he towers above. A rush of wind follows, the harsh huffs of breath panted across your face as he fights a losing battle with his composure.There’s a tension in his cheek, the muscle ticking as it’s stretched over bone. It’s the same in his fist. Porcelain skin pales, striated over both his knuckles and jaw alike. 

Part of you knows you should be scared. Better sorcerer's than you would be. 

But, it’s your fault. 

You committed the sin. 

You should know better than to utter his name. 

Gojo snarls, his lips pulling back to show off clenched teeth. He looks like an animal, his hackles up - body tensed and primed to spring an attack. You’d be forgiven to assume that he was a predator on the hunt and not a taunted beast cornered. ‘I think you should leave.’ 

‘You’d like that wouldn’t you.’ Leaning forward, you jab a finger into the divot of his chest and feel the digit bend.

‘Leave.’ It’s a dare, a vicious mockery as it drips from his tongue. He doesn’t retreat. Instead, he opens himself, rolling his shoulders until you’d have a clear shot and juts up his chin.

The air between you is thick. You can feel his breath, each exhale fans your collarbones - warm and wanting as you both bask in the stalemate. The anger in your stomach simmers, the hatred too, bubbles, acidic and fierce as it eats you from the inside out. You’re not sure why you came here anymore, why you’re not holding vigil in the infirmary or demanding meetings with a set of higher-ups that will discard your words. 

It’s not like anything can shake The Gojo Satoru. 

No. Even he couldn’t do that. 

Gojo’s challenge remains unanswered. It hangs there, demanding an answer while evading both of you. 

Swallowing hesitancy, you steel yourself and dig in your heels. This used to be his job, standing in Gojo’s way - holding onto his heels so he couldn’t fly too far, but that was all before. Breathing deep, you will your voice not to waver. ‘Is that really what you -.’ 

Reaching up, Gojo hooks a finger under the material of his blind fold and tugs. 

Your breath sticks. 

There, basking in the ice pools of Gojo’s eyes are tears. They glitter, lost stars already fallen, destined to never see the sky again. 

It’s an admission, one that is as much yours as it is his. You lean forward, let yourself tip. 

You taste salt when he kisses you. The sting of his teeth takes hold of your lower lip, but he soothes it quickly with the salve of his tongue. Dipping into your mouth, he flicks over your teeth before shoving you bodily against the wall. Your collision isn’t gentle, it’s messy, desperate as you're suddenly forced to fight. 

One of his hands loops around the back of your neck, his long fingers splaying across your nape as he pulls you in to devour you. You lean in, let him have you while your hands explore his chest. Palm first, you press to him letting the contours of his body guide your touch. He shivers as the tips of your fingers crest over his nipples, the rose buds pebbling under your fingers as your thumbs follow in succession. 

He moans into your mouth, the noise going straight to your cunt as he readjusts his stance and slips a knee between your thighs. The angle is delicious, his height providing the perfect slope for you to grind against as you cling onto his shoulders for stability. 

‘Fuck.’ Gojo’s chest heaves as he pulls back. You’re a vision, with the evidence of his desire shining on your lips and the heat he can feel seeping into his thigh. Reaching out, he presses a thumb to your lips and leverages open your mouth to press down your tongue. ‘I’m not going to be gentle.’ He counsels. 

Licking up his thumb, you bite harshly just before the nail. When the digit retreats, you smile. ‘Neither am I.’ 

He nods, planning his next move, but you beat him to the punch. Your hand wraps around his cock and squeezes, cutting off his common sense and rendering him blank. A gasp fills his chest almost suffocating him as you smooth a thumb over his head and toy with his sanity. 

You cock your head, pleased with the higher ground. ‘Y’know, for all the girls you used to bring back - we were also so curious as to why we never heard anything.’ Flicking your wrist, you force Gojo to flatten his hands against the wall beside you to remain upright. He locks his knees, eyes rolling skyward. ‘I was so sure it was because your cock was small.’ 

He grins at that. Bravado gifts him a reprieve, ‘What’s it feel like to be wrong, sweetheart?’ 

‘Oh, I’m fine with that.’ Rubbing your thumb down his shaft, you release him just as his hips begin to grind into your hand. ‘I’m just worried about you not knowing what to do with it…’ 

Gojo hisses through his teeth and removes his leg from between your thighs. It’s petty, he knows, but the whine that rattles your throat is payment enough. Silencing you with a kiss, he licks into your mouth, hungrier now as you scramble for purchase on his shoulders. Your desperation makes him harder, has him leaking more into his underwear. ‘I’m getting sick of that smart mouth.’ 

Catching his eye, you smirk. ‘You’ll never get sick of my mouth.’ 

‘Oh, yeah?’ He raises his eyebrows, ready to add his own witty retort. He can already picture it now. You, on your knees, your eyes fluttering shut, your throat open. He wonders how hot your mouth would be, how soft your tongue would feel as it laved over the thick vein on the underside of his cock. Gritting his teeth, he allows himself a brief moment to regain control. 

‘Yeah.’

Your voice brings out gooseflesh across the back of his neck. He shivers, feels his chest swell with anticipation. He’s going to ruin you, that’s for sure. He might even make you thank him for it afterwards. He’s about to command you to kneel, to put you in your place, but he doesn’t even get the chance. 

You shove him. 

Hooking a toe behind his heel, you chuckle when he hits the floor with an ungraceful thump. He grunts, hands snapping to brace himself just as your knees crunch on the hardwood beside him. 

The force of the landing sends an ache through his bones, vibrating his joints. His temper flares, annoyance itching at his fingers as admonishes himself for his lapse in focus. Still, all is forgotten as your fingers begin to work at his belt. 

Wasting no time, you undo the clasp and yank the leather through the loops. The belt cracks, causing Gojo to flick up his eyebrows once more. ‘Be careful…’ You tease, snapping it again. ‘Or I’ll be using this as a collar.’

‘Promises, promises.’ He reaches out a hand and lets his fingers trail across the plush of your thighs, admiring. Stretching, he curls himself into a lower case ‘C’ to grip the fat of your ass and administer a singular hard slap. 

You catch your lip between your teeth and work quicker, unbuttoning and tugging denim down his thighs. There’s no bothering with unclothing completely. You don’t even bother to strip him of his underwear. Instead you slip them just low enough to expose the wiry mess of his pubic hair and hook the elastic underneath his balls. 

He hisses as his cock is exposed to the air. It bobs there, aching, hard and flushed down to the base. He’s long and leaning, with a pinkened head that gleans with pre-cum. Each droplet drips down his shaft, rolling over the rivers of thick purpling veins until they reach the base and stick into the cloying nest of pubic hair. 

The sight of him makes your cunt clench, anxious to be full. You strip, ignoring the low whistle that slips from Gojo’s lips as you lose your pants and pull aside your underwear. Straddling him, you bat away his hands when he attempts to take hold of your waist and hover above his cock. 

Chuckling, he leans back, tucking his palms under his head. ‘You’re gonna want to prep yourself for that -.’ The pet name never manages to flick off of his tongue. He gasps, the air shocked and frozen in his lungs as a violent tightness overtakes him. The muscles in his legs flex, his toes curling as he struggles to comprehend the sudden pressure zipping down his body. 

Reaching between your thighs, you spread yourself and take him whole. He’s large enough to steal your breath, but you’re careful not to let it show. You settle, feeling the muscle of his hips twitch underneath you.

‘Careful…’ 

‘I’ve taken bigger with less prep… Sweetheart.’ 

Gojo opens his mouth to speak, but all that leaves his throat is a moan. His hands shoot out, body curled as you intercept him in midair and wrap your fingers around his wrists. Rendered useless, he allows you to guide him, allows you to press his hands to your hips, to encourage him to grip, to hold and pinch. A passenger in his own body, he lets the feel of you envelop him, smothering him until biting his lip is all he can do to keep the strings of babbling moans trapped in his mouth, 

You’re annoyed to discover that he sounds as pretty as he looks. His eyes have thawed, limpid pools shining as he looks at you with something you’re not willing to give a name. Slipping your hands over his, you shift his grip down your body and press into him until he takes hold of your ass. Kneading the fat there, you moan, enjoying his heat on your skin as you begin to move. You ride him how you want to. For your pleasure and not his. 

Battling the thing inside of him that screams at him to submit, Gojo wrenches his hands from your grip. Your fingers softened around his wrists with pleasure provide little resistance, as does your body as he takes a hold of your waist and plants his feet on the floor. 

The first thrust takes you off guard. His cock spears you, pressing hard against the roof of your cunt making you see static. The second you’re prepared for. Ignoring the fluttering of your cunt you throw your weight forward and slam a palm down beside his head. 

‘C’mon Princess,’ Gojo coo’s. His pace doesn’t falter. The slap of skin fills the room as his thighs hit your ass over and over again. Your cunt swallows him, arousal dripping down his length making the entire room sound like sin. ‘Hear that… Your cunt loves it. I can feel you dripping down me.’ 

You grit your teeth. Shifting your weight, you force your ass back against him, meeting each of his thrusts. 

‘That’s it, good girl.’ Gojo snarks. ‘See how much better it is when you just fucking -.’ 

The remainder of his sentence is cut off and swallowed, trapped in his throat as you wrap your fingers around it. 

His cock jumps inside of you. 

You squeeze harder. 

A broken moan trickles over his lips. 

‘You’re fucked up.’ You laugh, exasperated. His pace has slowed, but still his hips shift forcing you to take his cock over and over again. Sitting down on him hard, you match his thrusts with a grind - catching your clit on the thicket of pubic hair covering his crotch. Pleasure uses your ribs as a climbing frame, springing off of your organs and making you feel light. 

Gojo grins, teeth shining. ‘Says the woman with her hand around my throat.’ 

‘Oh fuck off.’ 

‘Get me off and I might.’ 

‘You think I’m going to let you cum?’ Without releasing him, you straighten. Your grip forces him to come with you, to sit up and flatten his legs. His thrusting stops. His eyebrows raise. 

With your free hand, you break through the buttons of your shirt and take hold of your tit, squeezing the flesh. Rolling your nipple between the knuckles of two fingers, you work yourself up to hardness and suck air through your teeth. Your petting only makes you wetter, the subtle flicks of your hips keeping your body taught as you creep steadily towards your orgasm. Pushing out your chest, you offer it to Gojo with a command. ‘Suck.’ 

He wets his lips. 

You tighten your grip on his throat. Feel his cock kick again. ‘If you’re waiting for a please, you’ll be waiting a long time…’ 

Gojo lets his tongue lol out of his mouth. Using only the tip, he flicks it against your nipple, but retreats as soon as a moan slips from your lips. ‘What about now?’ 

Biting your cheek, you attempt to still the rolling arousal in your stomach. The first pass of his tongue on your skin burns you alight; your knees weaken, forcing you to lower yourself entirely onto his cock. A moan bubbles in your chest, held back only by the annoyance itching at your fingers. Digging your nails into the vein throbbing at the turn of his jaw, you press until bright crescents appear on his skin. ‘I said…’ You growl. ‘Suck.’ 

Head clouded with lust, Gojo feels his reserve give in. In all honesty, he’s surprised he’s lasted this long - it’s been a while since he’s had someone to play with. This time, when he takes your nipple into his mouth he’s like a man starved. He sucks, tongue flicking and circling. Reaching up he takes you in hand and squeezes, moaning as he continues to make-out with the peak of your tit. 

‘Good boy…’ A gentle pet on his head solidifies your praise. Your fingers itch at his scalp, tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear and then drops. Slinking down your body, you tuck your hand under your cunt and tap a finger to your clit. The movement makes you jolt, jump starts the rocking of your hips as you begin to chase your high - using Gojo as your own personal sex toy. 

It pains him to say he likes it. Each grind of your hips sends a jolt of electricity up through his spine, his cock lost to the heaven that is your cunt. Drool leaks from the sides of his mouth, his tongue lapping at you, anxious to earn more of the panted moans you feed into his ears. 

 So used to taking, this moment of servitude suits him… 

Each inch of your body is tended to, singing in harmony as pleasure rises through your body and threatens to take over. You let it. Drawing quick circles on your clit, you release Gojo’s throat in favour of clinging to his shoulders. Thick lines mark out exactly when your orgasm hits. You dig into the muscle of his back, hips threatening to still as wave after wave rocks through you.It’s blinding, casting static on the inside of your eyelids as your eyes roll back and strain. 

A hand cups your ass and presses into you, forcing you to keep moving. He can feel the sponginess of your cunt, feel you milking him - demanding his seed. Clenching shut his eyes, he focuses on you. Your moans trickle into his ears, feeding him, urging him on as he takes control and prolongs your high. You look ethereal with your head bowed and your eyes clenched shut. The plush of your bottom lip hangs open allowing more of your noise to find him. Moans. Words.. They sink into his skin.

‘Satoru…’ 

It’s a whisper. A broken one, but his ears aren’t deceiving him. 

Your grip around him tightens. 

‘Satoru…’ 

The second he feels your cunt release him, he’s moving. Using all of his strength, he scrunches his knees and forces you forward, but there’s no chance of you finding your balance before you’re tossed again. He maneuvers you like you weigh nothing, broad hands taking your waist and flipping you once more before he’s on you again. 

Stable on your hands and knees, you arch your spine and push backwards. You can feel the stickiness of his cock pressing to you coated in your cum. It nestles between the cleft of your ass, pressing to all of the wrong places. 

Leaning over you, Gojo presses his chest to your back and whispers in your ear. ‘Now, it’s my turn. So be good and stay still, huh, Sweetheart.’ His palm wraps your shoulder, forces you to the ground as his heat leaves you, but before you can complain, or wriggle, the hot press of his cock is slipping back inside of you. 

Gojo is anything, but gentle. He’s relentless, fucking into you like a machine. Each thrust comes with a shock of pleasure that sparks at the base of your spine, one that explodes and seeps into the bones of your hips. He’s too deep, muddling somewhere in your stomach as he grips your hips and yanks you back forcing you to take him whole again and again. 

‘Cum…’ Gojo leans over you, his eyes wide as a hand dips around your waist and pats at your hip. He follows your curves and dips between your thighs, his fingers drawing out rough circles on your clit. There’s a desperation in his voice when he speaks again, his breath fanning your ear as his thrusts grow erratic. ‘Need you to cum, need - fuck. Need to feel it.’ 

Your body kicks, legs shaking as he begins to work you back up again. It’s as if your nerves are frayed, too raw even as your stomach begins to fill once more. 

‘C’mon… Wanna feel you.’ 

A droplet of sweat falls between your shoulder blades, dampening your shirt. Desperation radiates through him, burning your skin where he touches you. Your body obeys easily, even as his ministrations become halting and uneven, but it isn’t until one final word slips from Gojo’s lips that you find your second orgasm crashing into you. 

‘Please.’ It slips out without his say so and falls heavy in the room. 

You want to snark, want to turn and bite, but your knees are too weak. Instead, you press your head to the floor and wait for the air to return to your lungs. There’s a stuttering behind you, a momentary lapse of pace and then, the room is full of Gojo’s moans. 

He cums hard with his hands clamped back on your waist to steady him. The release is nothing like he’s ever felt, his whole body becoming a live wire that winks out, suspending him in his own pleasure until, at last, his limbs become numb. ‘Fuck…’ 

Bucking, you stop him from collapsing on your back and roll just in time for him to lay himself beside you. You lay like that for a while, side by side in puddles of your own spend and sweat until the floor grows cold. Then, he’s gone. 

The chill from the floorboards cools your skin and burrows into your bones. You flip, rolling over onto your back to stare at the ceiling. You’re still angry. Although, the feeling is distant now - lingering somewhere deep, settled and asleep. It’ll rear its head again, there’s no doubt about that, but for now it’s a welcomed reprieve. 

Footsteps warn you of Gojo’s reappearance. He’s almost naked, his jeans discarded while his boxers have been pulled up to their rightful place. There’s a necklace of red around his throat, the indentations of your fingertips obvious on the paleness of his neck as he crouches down beside you and produces a towel. 

‘Admiring your handy work?’ He chuckles, throat raw and begins to wipe you down. The towel is warm, but dry and makes quick work of the cum spilling out of you. 

You swat at him, but there’s no malice behind the movement. Instead, you groan and lift your hips. ‘Did you fucking cum in me?’ 

‘Give up a chance to cum in a cunt like that? Of course I fucking came in you.’ 

‘Bastard.’ 

‘Didn’t seem to mind it before.’ 

You swipe at him again, more determined this time, but he dodges it. Grabbing your wrist, he uses your movement as leverage and heaves you up and onto your feet. He lets you sway there for a moment, watching as the shake in your thighs threatens to give way and then hauls you up and over his shoulder. ‘Put me fucking down!’ Beating at his back, your threats die on your tongue as heaviness overtakes your body. You let him carry you, slipping through two sets of doors before you back meets the comfort of a fresh duvet. 

‘There,’ he chuffs. ‘Now quit screaming.’ Collapsing to the bed himself, he stretches, soothing tired muscles before setting about removing his blind fold. 

You roll, watching. ‘You sleep with it off now?’ 

‘Nah.’ He shakes his head when its done, letting his hair fall to frame his face. ‘Not since -.’ The muscle in his jaw clenches, relaxing only when he’s sure his name has settled itself back inside his heart. 

Walking your hand over the sheets, you wrap a palm around his bicep and urge him down to the bed. He goes willingly, letting you manipulate him until an arm is tucked under your head and a hand is pressed to his chest. ‘I’m not sorry.’ You speak to the air, but don’t mind when Gojo replies. 

‘Neither am I.’ 

Nudging at him, you force him to look down at you, to see the hurricane of emotions wrestling in your eyes. You think of Megumi laying in a hospital bed, his heart mending from an assault it should never have suffered. You think of Suguru, poor, tormented Suguru, and all of the times he could have been saved from himself. You think of them and offer yourself. ‘Next time you’re thinking of sending someone on a case that’ll get them killed,’ you hold his gaze, challenge him to disobey you. ‘Send me.’

[samoankpoper21]

Save Me I'm Yours - Jo Togame

Sequel to Numb

Huge thank you to @cherryblossomwitch26 and @calculust-prime 🫶🏽 I'm sorry if this isn't as great as the first one 😅

Jo Togame x chubby! reader

Content warnings: cursing, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!), p in v, creampie

Genre: slight angst, smut, smut with plot

Word count: 2.5k

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED 18+! MDNI!

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Watching the rain fall heavily in droves you sighed. You hated rainy days, not for the typical romcom reasons but because rainy days meant unpredictability for the clinic: some rainy days you saw dozens of patients, others meant you saw at most 5; today was the latter. You were also reminded of your nasty spat with Togame, not having seen him since. Deciding to close the clinic early you trudged upstairs to your attached apartment finalizing on a bubble bath; might as well take advantage of this shitty weather and relax.

With the rain having stopped, Togame looked to Choji. "Choji, I need to go. There's someone important to me-"

"Is it that beautiful girl you told me about?" Smiling bashfully he nodded. "Kame-chan, make sure you make things right with her."

Togame ran towards the clinic the sun beaming down slightly warming him. He was excited to tell you about the revelation that he and the rest of Shishitoren had, wanting to tell you about how they finally got their sun back and how, later on down the road, he wanted you to meet Sakura, his new "friend" and the rest of Furin. "Y/N! Y/N!" Attempting to slide the doors of the clinic open he realized that the rainy weather probably didn't bring much patients in. Taking 2 steps up at a time to your attached apartment he turned your doorknob shaking his head and smiling at the fact you never locked your door. Stepping inside your living room he calls out, "Y/N?" Seeing your bedroom door cracked he made his way towards it. Placing a hand over his beating heart he peeled your door open slowly.

"Y/N!" Wrapped only in your towel you turned to see a panting Togame, eyes warm, hair loose from his braid, noting that something was different, a fragment of his former self. Turning back around to your drawer you ask, "What are you doing here Jo?" Smiling he went into detail about the earlier events: how he met this annoying acquaintance named Sakura whom he came to respect, how Sakura made him realize how far he's strayed from his ideals, and finally how Choji was "back from his funk" after having a "conversation" with Furin's leader Hajime Umemiya. A small smile graced your face as you listened; whenever Togame was excited his manner of speech was a tad, just a tad bit faster. Taking a shaky breath closing your drawer with your back still facing him you ask, "That's all great and all Jo but why are you telling me this?"

"Wh-what do you mean why am I telling you all this? You're the first person I think of whenever something happens. Why do you think I always come to you?" Biting your quivering lip you finally turn to him praying that the tears lining your eyes wouldn't fall. Swallowing the lump forming in your throat you finally meet his eyes, your expression deadpan. "I told you the last time that once you go back to Shishitoren that that was the last time you and I would see each other." Seeing him clench and unclench his bruised, skin rubbed raw fists your eyebrows shot up. "Are you here so I can patch you up again? Is that it?" Togame knew you were hurt, he's attuned to your emotions after years of being together. "Y/N, I'm saying that Shishitoren has finally found its sun again, that we'll continue on the path that we were originally on." Turning to your drawer rummaging for a pair of panties you walked past him saying, "Well I guess I should go say thanks to Umemiya-san then." Grabbing your wrist preventing you from going any further he stutters out his eyes scanning your face frantically, "Wha-why would you say thanks to Umemiya-san?"

"For knocking some got damn sense in your head!" Inhaling deeply he lets out a breath, his hold on your wrist tightening slightly. "Y/N-"

"I heard about all the shit you've done: 'skinning' people for not being strong enough, that's practically picking on the weak! You guys might as well call yourselves SHITTYtoren! If that's really what your stupid devotion to power means, to bully those who aren't as strong as you all, then we can't be friends." His grip tightening, head tilted, he drawls out, "Friends? When were we ever friends Y/N?"

"Let go of me Jo. I want to get dressed and express my gratitude to Umemiya." Pulling you flush against his chest you squeaked looking up into his emerald eyes, his right hand finding purchase on the roll above your love handle. "Answer my question Y/N," he breaths against your lips. Gulping you quip, "T-the fuck do you mean? We've been friends since we were little."

"Wrong." Tearing your gaze away from the intensity of his stare you retort, "I don't have time for your games Jo." You stiffened when you felt his forehead press against yours, his eyes closed Togame inhaled slowly, taking in your scent, this moment. "I know I've hurt you, you know I'm bad with my words, and I realize that sorry won't fix this but please forgive me. You are so much more to me than a friend." Feeling your lip quiver you look up meeting his soft gaze, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed a bit of saliva. "Don't look at Umemiya-san," his heart pace quickening at the realization that you're still in your towel. "Don't look at Sakura," he whispers against your skin, goosebumps forming in his wake. "Only look at me." he licks at the exposed column of your neck, you bit down on your lip trying to contain the moan wanting to escape. Planting your hands firmly against his chest you pushed against him slightly creating space, you were feeling a small tinge of suffocation. Biting your trembling lips looking away from him you whisper, "You really hurt me Jo. I don't even know-" Taking a cautious step forward he closed the distance between the two of you. You wanted to run, make him suffer for all the negative emotions he put you through the past weeks but your heart kept your feet planted. Keeping your face downward you felt his breath tickling your forehead. Gently tilting your face towards him he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, your eyes closed leading him to peck your eyelids, your cheeks followed, and finally he whispered out, "'m sorry Y/N. Let me show you how sorry I am sweetheart." He gently pecked your lips the tears you were trying to hold finally breaking free from the dam. Swiping your tears with his thumbs Togame murmured, "My poor baby. I know I'm a bad man, such an asshole to my beautiful baby." You gasped, eyes flying open, when you felt the wet swipe of his tongue against your cheeks, licking at your tears peppering kisses. "'m sorry."

Once the tears subsided you reached up cupping his face bringing his forehead against yours. "Y/N?"

"Let's just stay like this for a bit...please?" Noticing the goosebumps now decorating your skin he chides, "You should hurry up and get dressed. Don't want you getting sick." He pressed a kiss on your forehead about to pull away when you stop him. "Y/N?" Looking away with a blush dusting your cheeks you quickly peck his lips, almost laughing at how wide his eyes got. Groaning running a hand down his face you silently gasped when you saw the pure lust in his eyes. "'s not fair. You can't start something and not finish it."

Smirking you quip back, "Looks like you're gonna have to beg for it." He gently walks you backwards until your legs hit your bed frame making you sit. Dropping down on his knees in front of you he sat not moving. "To-Togame?"

"You did want to see me beg."

"Eh?!?" Togame scooted closer to you grabbing your right ankle planting a firm kiss on it. Slowly dragging his tongue against your calf your lips were caught between your teeth, his head turned slightly planting another kiss on the inner corner of your knee. You gasped when he finally looked at you, his pupils blown out, hair tousled when he nips and sucks on your inner thighs, pleading, "Forgive me Y/N." You could feel yourself getting more aroused as he continued his slow sensual ministrations along your left leg. Pushing your towel past your hips he begs, "Please?" With this new switch in power you couldn't help but revel in the fact that you had this aloof 6',1' man on his knees in front of you, worshiping your half naked body in all its glory, rolls, dips, and all. You could feel your wetness seeping through your thighs, squirming at the new position. Tilting his chin up you ask, "What do you want Togame?"

"Want-no need ta show you how sorry I am."

"Show me then." Togame peeled your legs open groaning at your slick folds, watching your pussy clench and unclench around nothing, your clit at attention. Wrapping his arms around your thick thighs he inhaled slowly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Gawd he missed this. You. Licking a long, slow stripe he stopped at your clit, his tongue circling the tiny bud, Togame groaning at your saccharine taste. He sucked and licked his way towards your entrance, his tongue circling and swirling against your folds. "Mmph, Togame, more." Tightening his grasp on your thighs he pulled you more towards the edge of your bed causing you to lay back as he began slurping and eating you out like a man starved. Gathering some of your slick with his middle finger he slid it into your entrance while drawing circles on your clit with his tongue. Adding his ring finger after feeling your walls opening up he glided his fingers in and out of you in a slow pace watching as you buck and rock your hips, some of your sweet juices spilling into the cup of his hand. "Togame please stop teasing me." Sucking on your clit he added a third finger wanting to burst at how your pussy stretched, intoxicated by how long and drawn out your moans were. Moving and scissoring his fingers in rapid succession he bent them forwards and upwards against that spongy spot in your pussy. "O-oh Togame! Right there!" Tangling your fingers in the depths of his black trenches you dragged your pussy up and down his face and fingers. "Fuck sweetheart you're soaked. Listen to her." Falling silent for a brief moment your pussy tightened around his fingers as you listened to the squelching noises coming from below. "Fuuuck Togame."

"Come on sweetheart, cum on my face."

"To-Aaaaaah!" your legs shook as your thighs trapped his face in place, fingers pulling roughly at his black trenches as your orgasm hit you hard. Attempting to catch your breath you slowly unhooked your legs from his grasp. "Sorry." you offer sheepishly.

"Don't be sweetheart." you watched intently as he slowly licked his digits clean, his tongue circling the tips of his fingers. Traveling the length of him you took in his bulge, your mouth already salivating. You missed his taste, his scent. Him. Sitting up reaching for the waist band of his sweats he gently swats your hand away. "Nuh uh sweetheart, today is about you."

"But I want to make you feel good."

"You will don't worry." Slowly stripping himself of his shirt, boxers, and sweats you rubbed your thighs in anticipation, licking your lips when your heard the loud smack of the tip of his cock hitting his stomach. Pushing yourself up towards the headboard he climbed in between your legs prying your legs open. "Damn," he whistled. "You're so fucking beautiful." Grabbing his cock by the base he rubbed it up, down, against your folds tantalizingly slow. "Togameee." you whined. Slapping his tip against your clit you jolted. "Can't believe you thought we were just friends." he spat out. Alternating between slapping and rubbing his tip against your clit he continued to tease you. "Here I was thinking I was yours and you were mine."

"Togameeee-" Without warning he slid into you, his hips flush against yours in one go, your mouth agape, his jaw clenched. His thrusts were slow and languid, each one punctured deep into your gummy walls. "Here I was thinking you were smart because of all those damn books you read but it looks like you couldn't even tell how I felt about you. How I've always felt about you. 's ok, 's probably my fault anyway." Lifting your hips up a little higher, he leaned back against the haunches of his feet pounding into you, the new angle making you gasp at how deep his thick, long cock was reaching, his ever observant gaze watching your breasts bounce and sway. "To-Togame."

"Tell me you're mine Y/N." You couldn't get the words out if you wanted to, his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly made you into a moaning mess. "Y/N," he demanded (pleaded). "Need you to tell me you're mine."

"To-Togame pleeeasse." Smirking he drawls out, "What's wrong sweetheart? Dick so good can't think straight?" Moaning as a response he kept your hips in place as his hips snapped against yours furiously. Through lidded eyes you watched the sweat drip down his forehead, his luscious black locks falling in front of his face, pecs and abs flexing at each powerful thrust he was delivering, veins more prominent. Locking eyes with you his jaw clenched as he felt your gummy wet walls squeezing him oh so good. He wanted, no needed, to hear you say it before he came. Cupping your chin firmly he demands, "Don't make me tell you again Y/N. Tell me you're mine." Feeling the tightness in your belly threatening to snap you yell out, "Yesyesyes Togame. I'm yours, all yours, only you!"

"Good girl." With those two words you screamed as the tightness in your belly snapped, your vision white, ears ringing. Togame's jaw clenched as your pussy squeezed him tighter, he groaned his release into you, hands a bruising grip on your hips, your walls painted white with his hot, thick, cum. Laying there panting trying to catch your breaths you felt wet lips peck and suck at your collarbone. "Togame," you giggled. "Stop that." Pulling out of you slowly he made his way to your bathroom wetting a washcloth wiping you and him down tossing it on your bed stand once he was done.

Pulling you against his chest he chuckles, "Soooo SHITTYtoren huh?" Groaning hiding your face in your hands you beg, "Oh my gawd please don't tell them I said that." He barked out a hearty laugh, your heart warming at the sound. You reached up caressing his cheek, he took that same hand planting a kiss on the inside of your palm. "I love you." Togame affirms.

"I love you too."

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───>>

A/N: Hello! Thank you for showing so much love to the first part of this ^^ to be honest this second part was actually inspired by BTS' Save Me ^^ I wasn't thinking of the first part, I was more focused on the second part lolol Anway make sure to check BTS out! Enjoy~!!

[featherandferns]

teaser for my upcoming fic: sugar

feel free to ask me questions about it!!! we're all in mourning so here's some fluff non-canon season 4 jj x reader

content warnings: dr*g use; mentions of s*xual themes

“JJ, I mean it,” you say, your tone losing its humour now. You shoot him a look that you hope will put a pin in it. “We should talk about something else.”

“Alright, alright,” JJ surrenders, holding his hands up and all. He relaxes back against the plastic seat of the boat and you do the same. Your legs outstretch so you can rest your feet on the spot beside him. The two of you catch each other’s gaze and look away, chuckling bashfully like preteens. You take another hit of the joint and watch the smoke fizzle away into the night. “How’d you meet Mark, then?”

You glance at JJ. “A few months back. He’d just moved to Kildare and came by to The Stirring Spoon to help out, and we sort of hit it off.”

“He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you smile. But it fades. The weed tickles at your emotions, pulling the wires as if to wreak havoc. JJ seems to take advantage. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie. You take another hit and shake your head, plastering on a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Sighing, JJ folds his arms comfortably over his chest. “Y’know, just cause I know what you look like naked don’t mean we can’t be friends now.”

Barking out a laugh, you shake your head. “There was definitely a better way you could have put that.”

“Probably,” he shrugs, grinning, “but it’s true, ain’t it? We can be friends.”

“Of course we can. We are,” you emphasise. 

“So…That means that if you wanna vent about Mr Loverboy to me, you can,” JJ offers. 

Laughing, you rock your head back and gaze up at the sky. The stars are out. They shimmer white and crystal in the abyss of the night. “That’d be too weird, I think, but I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

“I just got one question. Just one.”

“Go on,” you reluctantly reply. 

“Does he say ‘thank you’ after the two of you fuck?”

You burst into fits of laughter. It’s so sudden that it has you doubling over. Tears slip from your eyes and you wipe them away, looking at a grinning JJ. God, you missed him and his twisted sense of humour. 

“He just looks like the kinda guy who would!”

“Oh my God, no!” you laugh, shaking your head. Catching your breath, you manage out, “no, he doesn’t say ‘thank you’.”

“Is he the sub then? Cause there is no way that guy is laying his hands on you without written permission.”

“JJ stop! I’m gonna pee myself!” you cackle, kicking your feet. JJ starts laughing too. You open your eyes and make out his face in the lowlight of the pier’s lamp. Wheezing, you catch your breath and calm yourself. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

“I can give the guy pointers if he needs them,” JJ jokes. Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets just at the idea though and you point at him in another warning. 

“Don’t you dare!” you say, trying not to crack up again. “‘Sides, he doesn’t need pointers.”

“Everybody needs pointers,” JJ says with a roll of his eyes. “John B gave me one of the best pointers.”

“I find that impossible to believe,” you snort. 

“He did! It was a tip for kissing. Works like a fucking charm too, I’m telling ya.”

“Mhm, I’ll bet,” you sarcastically return. You glance at the joint to check if it needs tapping off, take another drag, and then look up to find JJ watching you. He hasn’t changed enough for you to forget what that expression means. 

“You want me to show you?”

“Show me? How?” you say with furrowed brows. Something in the air shifts with your question. An unspoken thing, an unseeable thing, but something nonetheless. A nervous tickle comes to your throat. 

JJ doesn’t reply but he slowly leans over the seat towards you. Your breath catches in your lungs the moment he enters your bubble, breaking some unspoken barrier, and your smile fades away like day into night. You feel as though you’re stuck in place, plastered to the seat, and you’re ashamed to admit that you don’t hate that you are. You’re ashamed that you’re not pushing him away, telling him to buzz off, laughing at his idiocy. You’re ashamed that you’re curious as to what he’s going to do next. 

JJ’s close enough now that you can smell him. His cologne mixed with something sweet but tangy, like seasalt and citrus. Something masculine underneath, that has a primal instinct inside of you wanting to claw its way out. Your fingers grip the edge of the seat instead. Your eyes stare into his. You study the laps of green and grey in the sea of blue, mesmerised in the way the night sky reflects in the iris. His gaze darts down to your lips and you have no idea how this happened and how you got here, and everything is blurry but so, so clear from the cannabis as he leans forward, and you can’t move but you should move and you want to move but you don’t, you never want to move again, as his lips brush against yours just so, just enough for you to know that they have, that he has, that he’s real, but that he hasn’t, and that you can take it all back, and that it doesn’t count and it shouldn’t and you shouldn’t but–

[suplicyy]

Happy happy birthday even though it’s in a week, talking about birthdays👀👀 how would kuroo act on reader’s birthday even though she didn’t tell anyone it was her birthday, it’s not a big deal to her like it’s just another day soo how could he find this out? love your works!!

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

— Tags/Genre: Fluff | Fem!Reader

— Warnings: Unreviewed work, sorry if there are any English errors!!

For you, your birthday was a day like any other.

It's not that you didn't like it, but the truth is that you never really cared about it at all.

So that's why you never felt the need to declare it to everyone. But of course, if someone asked you about your birthday, you would tell them, but without giving it much importance.

So when Kuroo heard your friends talking about your birthday today, he would be more than shocked.

He would be perplexed, his mind swirling with thoughts.

"Why didn't she tell me about this?" "Does she hate me?" "Did something happen?" "Doesn't she trust me?"

The truth is, he would be worried about you, and would try to talk to you about it.

But not without preparing something special for you first!!

In his eyes, you are someone very important to him, so he couldn't let this special date pass, even if you didn't tell him.

So when he calls you out of the blue saying he's going to your house, you find it weird, but you don't mind so much because it's already a habit for you to go to each other's houses.

But you find it even stranger when you open the door and come across Kuroo holding a big cake with candles on top, with a big smile on his face, almost nervous.

Kuroo enters your house, walking quickly to the kitchen, placing the large cake on the counter.

And almost immediately, Kuroo approaches you, cradling you in his arms with a tight hug, while planting kisses on the top of your head.

You hug him back, giggling at the amount of affection he was giving you at the moment. "Tetsu... by chance is today some special occasion?" you say between laughs, but internally wondering why he did that.

"But of course it is!" Kuroo suddenly lets go of the hug, holding you by the shoulders, looking at you seriously. You worry, wondering what you forgot that was so important, and wondering if you hurt him in some way.

"It's your birthday!!!"

An uncomfortable silence fills the room, making Kuroo feel somehow pressured by your gaze, thinking he has offended you in some way. After processing the information you received, you let out a surprised "oh", and then laugh at your boyfriend's behavior, feeling more relieved that it wasn't something so serious.

"So that's it, for a second you scared me!" you relax your posture and rest your head on his shoulder, hugging him gently. "Why are you making such a small deal about your birthday? Do you not like him or something?" Kuroo asks curiously, as he runs his hand through your hair, twirling the silky strands around his finger.

"No, nothing like that! I just don't care much about that." you look away from him, thoughtful. "As happy as I am to complete another year of life, this is something natural for all of us, so... it is still just another day like any other."

"Heh, okay Miss 'A Day Like Any Other', still, you could have told me." he says in an ironic tone, taking his hand from your hair to lightly pinch your cheek. You squeal in surprise at Kuroo's pinch, laughing at his comment. "You never asked me, silly..."

"Well... even if you don't care much, I still want to celebrate it with you, okay?" he bows like a prince, extending his hand for you to take, making you laugh at his stupidity. Following his banter, you bow back, placing your hand on top of his.

"Maybe that's a good idea..." you say smiling at him, which Kuroo quickly reciprocates.

And soon planting a light kiss on your hand, and soon guiding you to the counter, where the birthday cake he bought for you was ready to have its candles lit, which you would blow away wishing for more moments like this with the one you love.

— A/N: I'm sorry for disappearing again!! I promise I'm aware of the requests I received and will try to do them as soon as possible!! So while I finish these pending requests (which are really a lot, believe me......💀), I will leave my requests closed until I can complete them all.🥲

[molotoph]

I feel sick. This is fucking horrible and incredibly tone deaf… I really have sam the benefit of the doubt despite knowing he’s a nepo baby whose father worked for Bill Clinton. Afaik the two times dropout spoke out as a company were in regards to George Floyd’s murder and the rampant escalation of AAPI hate crimes following&during Covid. It’s “unsustainable” now?! He wants to “play a civilian” but he’s not just a civilian like us. He’s a CEO. D20 especially is explicitly anti fascist and dropout built a lot of its platform off providing a space where a diverse community of all those who would fight for a better world feel like we can have silly guy watch tv time and relax while still being seen in our media. People like stories and we’re people and we need stories.

I’m so… does he like not understand how much worse he made it sound. How much he didn’t bail the mods out of this by defending these actions? Your father was in the White House during the Clinton administration but the concept of the Balfour Accord and the history of a tightening noose that came after it is “too complicated” for you?! I’m an actual college dropout. I’ve been unemployed for years with philosophy skills nobody wants without running me through the higher education pay to play endurance gauntlet of college and grad school. It sure as shit ain’t too complicated for me to understand what fascism is, what it does, how to recognize it, and how to fight what mandatory participation in it our government rips from us. How we can’t just not pay taxes or stop working because we are not CEOs, we are civilians. How the term “civilian” is a fragile and flimsy agreement between the working class and the ruling class that could turn to devour us gleefully and brutally any moment it pleases, rendering us martyrs (dead) and terrorists (alive.)

Concern for Israelis? Concern for people in a colonial fascist empire waking up and realizing they have to fight knowing what ghouls do to their enemies and knowing it will NEVER be as barbaric for them as it is for Palestinians. I feel concern for my American comrades in a country that for the record to his father’s statements on voting, was already fascist, Robert, there is no freedom on the line to choose, there was just the caste stratified levels of protection from the full reality of being considered outside of whiteness completely, and even white people who choose to leave and who ally nearly without flaw KNOW they will never truly see the same hell. I do not feel more concerned for labeling someone pro-genocide and it making them think or confront themselves. I am not here to dispense moral purity certificates for other white and/or Jewish people in other imperial cores like me. I do not care. There is no time and that is not how we cultivate moving into direct action and in loving each other and caring about each other as human beings waking up.

Bugles is owned by General Mills, which as a corporation that handles the production of among other things chocolate, has been under investigation for child labor and slavery abuses against mankind, and has recently been sued by workers for its practices: “Cereal giant General Mills is facing a federal lawsuit filed by several of its Black employees who claim that one of the company’s plants in Georgia has “embraced a racially hostile work environment” controlled by “white supremacists.”

Race IS Bugles’ fucking business because they made it their business to be racist. Liberal corporate rainbow washing or black washing or green washing like Bo talks about is what consumers generally understand about these things, so it can look irrelevant and pandering when corporations try to virtue signal about issues they have no intention of addressing and the harm of which they directly contribute to, but from the business side it looks quite different. Sam’s on the business side.

Politics is everything when fascists make our lives and our existences and freedom explicitly forbidden by their praxes. When their praxes kill us on purpose and en masse. And nobody targeted by these forms of dehumanization wanted their life as a finite reality to be made someone else’s politics. They didn’t DO anything to cause fascists’ ire— other than establish their own humanity and the boundaries and rights of being human. There is no acceptable amount of humanity to destroy in order to make members of a death cult feel comfortable because they’re uncomfortable being human and nothing we do can ever make them feel comfortable while death spiral ideologies rule them.

Does Sam KNOW there are nazizio who watch dropout that would pull their funding? Why would he want their money? Does he think we or his staff or actors wouldn’t understand scaling back and grassroots fundraising for taking one of THE MOST BASIC STANDS POSSIBLE IN HUMAN HISTORY, AGAINST THE MOST DOCUMENTED GENOCIDE IN HUMAN HISTORY?

This is who my stupid tucchus gave the benefit of the doubt to?

Sam you work with people who are a lot smarter and a lot less liberalpilled than you are. Take the fucking hint that you don’t need to walk on eggshells about not wanting to be associated with genociders, and that delicate footing is more ominous of who you have let be in the crowd with us than anything else. We gathered here because of trust for our safety, because anarchist etc. storytelling spaces are sorely needed and hard to find and difficult to protect.

This isn’t like. A game. We aren’t kidding.

Free Palestine, Free Lebanon, Free Yemen, Free Congo, Free Sudan.

What the fuck.

@dropoutdottv ‘s newest episode of Dirty Laundry platforms Noah Grossman, a liberal Zionist who has shown public love of and endorsement of the isrotten terrorist and American imperial projects.

Proof and sources https://x.com/HorrorHijabi/status/1790749434822672600