#no one actually cares what you have to say

[pucksandpower]

A Royal Surprise

Max Verstappen x Princess of Wales!Reader

Summary: in which Max 1) forgot to tell his team that he has a girlfriend and 2) forgot to tell his team that the girlfriend in question is the future Queen of England … oops?

One of Red Bull Racing’s PR officers, Leslie, sits in the back of the conference room, her pen poised over her notepad as she listens to the team debrief. It’s a typical Thursday morning, with engineers and drivers discussing the upcoming race weekend. Leslie’s eyes flit between Max Verstappen and his teammate as they offer their insights on car performance and track conditions.

“The balance felt off in turn three during the sim,” Max says, leaning back in his chair. “We might need to adjust the downforce.”

Leslie jots this down, already planning how to phrase it for the press conference later that afternoon. Just another normal day at Red Bull Racing, she thinks.

But then, Max casually adds, “Oh, and by the way, you might see some extra security around this weekend. My girlfriend’s coming to watch the race.”

Leslie’s pen stills. There’s something in Max’s tone that makes her look up sharply.

“Girlfriend?” Christian Horner raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

Max shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, it’s been a few months now. We’ve been keeping it quiet.”

Leslie leans forward, her PR senses tingling. “Anyone we know?” She asks, trying to keep her voice casual.

Max’s grin widens. “You could say that. It’s Y/N.”

The room falls silent. Leslie blinks, sure she must have misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Y/N? As in ...”

“The Princess of Wales, yeah,” Max confirms, as if he’s just mentioned dating a local girl from down the street.

Leslie’s notepad slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor. The sound seems to break the spell of silence that’s fallen over the room.

“Max,” Christian says slowly, “are you telling us that you’re dating the future Queen of England?”

Max nods, still looking far too relaxed for someone who’s just dropped a bombshell of international proportions. “That’s right.”

Leslie’s mind is spinning. Images of tabloid headlines and diplomatic incidents flash before her eyes. She stands up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I need to make some calls,” she says weakly.

But before she can escape, Christian holds up a hand. “Wait, Leslie. We need to handle this carefully. Max, how long has this been going on?”

“About six months,” Max replies. “We met at a charity event in London. Hit it off right away.”

Leslie sinks back into her chair, her head in her hands. “Six months,” she mutters. “You’ve been dating the Princess of Wales for six months, and we’re just finding out now?”

Max has the grace to look a bit sheepish. “We wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. You know how it is with the media.”

Oh, Leslie knows. She knows all too well. “Max,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady, “do you realize what this means? The security implications alone ...”

“It’s all been taken care of,” Max assures her. “The palace has been very discreet.”

Leslie laughs, a slightly hysterical edge to it. “The palace. Of course. Because now we’re dealing with actual palaces.”

Christian clears his throat. “Right. Well, this certainly changes things. Leslie, I think we’re going to need to reschedule the rest of this meeting. Can you get started on a press strategy?”

Leslie nods numbly, her mind already racing with potential scenarios and damage control plans.

As the room begins to clear, Max approaches her. “Leslie? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Leslie takes a deep breath. “Max, I appreciate you telling us. But next time you decide to date royalty, maybe give us a heads up a bit sooner?”

Max chuckles. “Sorry about that. If it helps, you’re handling it better than your counterpart at the palace did when you found out.”

“Oh God,” Leslie groans. “I’m going to have to coordinate with the royal PR team, aren’t I?”

“They’re actually pretty cool,” Max says. “A bit stuffy at first, but they loosen up after a while.”

Leslie shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is my life now. Okay, Max, I need you to tell me everything. How did you meet? How have you kept this secret? What are the security arrangements?”

For the next hour, Leslie grills Max on every detail of his relationship with you. She learns about secret rendezvous in Monaco, carefully orchestrated “chance” meetings at public events, and the challenges of dating someone whose every move is scrutinized by the world.

“And you’re sure about this?” Leslie asks finally. “Dating her ... it’s not exactly going to be easy for you.”

Max’s expression softens. “I know. But she’s worth it. We’re worth it.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a twinge of sympathy. It can’t be easy, trying to nurture a relationship under such intense pressure.

“Alright,” she sighs. “I’ll do everything I can to make this as smooth as possible. But Max, promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“No more bombshells, okay? My heart can’t take it.”

Max grins. “Well, actually ...”

Leslie’s eyes widen in alarm. “What? What is it now?”

“Her father ... he’s a big F1 fan. He’s been hinting that he’d like to attend a race.”

The room starts to spin. The last thing Leslie hears before everything goes black is Max’s concerned voice saying, “Leslie? Leslie, are you okay?”

When Leslie comes to, she’s lying on the conference room couch, with Max and Christian hovering over her anxiously.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Christian says, relief evident in his voice. “You gave us quite a scare there, Leslie.”

Leslie sits up slowly, her head still spinning. “Please tell me I dreamed all of that,” she mutters.

Max shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Sorry, it’s all real. Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?”

Leslie waves him off. “No, no, I’m fine. Just ... processing.” She takes a deep breath, her PR training kicking in despite her shock. “Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, we need to draft a statement.”

Christian nods. “Good idea. What are you thinking?”

Leslie stands up, pacing as she thinks out loud. “We need to confirm the relationship without making too big a deal of it. Something like ... ‘Red Bull Racing confirms that driver Max Verstappen is in a relationship with Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales. We ask for privacy as they navigate this new chapter.’”

Max frowns. “Isn’t that a bit ... formal?”

Leslie sighs. “Max, you’re dating the future Queen of England. Everything’s going to be a bit formal from now on.”

“She hates that, you know,” Max says softly. “All the formality. It’s why she likes being with me. I treat her like a normal person.”

Leslie pauses in her pacing, struck by the vulnerability in Max’s voice. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Max nods. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. She’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, kind. When I’m with her, I forget about all the titles and protocol. She’s just ... her.”

Christian clears his throat, looking uncomfortable with the display of emotion. “That’s all well and good, but we need to think about the bigger picture here. This relationship could have major implications for the team, for Formula 1 as a whole.”

Leslie nods, her mind already racing ahead. “We’ll need to coordinate with the palace on all public appearances. Security will need to be completely overhauled. And the media ... oh God, the media is going to have a field day with this.”

“Hey,” Max says, placing a hand on Leslie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. You’re the best in the business, Leslie. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a rush of affection for the young driver. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Now, let’s get back to work. We have a lot to do before this news breaks.”

As they settle back into planning mode, Leslie can’t help but shake her head in disbelief. A Formula 1 driver and a princess. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale or a cheesy romance novel. But as she watches Max’s face light up when he talks about you, she realizes that sometimes, reality is stranger — and more romantic — than fiction.

“Oh, and Leslie?” Max adds as they’re wrapping up. “About the King wanting to attend a race ...”

Leslie holds up a hand. “One crisis at a time, Max. Let’s get through announcing your relationship before we start planning any more royal visits to the paddock, okay?”

Max grins. “Fair enough. But just so you know, he’s particularly interested in the British Grand Prix. Says it would be ‘jolly good fun’ to present the trophies.”

Leslie closes her eyes, already imagining the logistical nightmare. “Max, I swear, if you’re joking ...”

“Would I joke about something like this?” Max asks innocently.

Leslie looks at him for a long moment, then turns to Christian. “I’m going to need a raise. And possibly a personal team of therapists.”

Christian chuckles. “I think that can be arranged. Welcome to the new era of Red Bull Racing. It’s going to be an interesting ride.”

As Leslie gathers her notes and prepares to face the whirlwind that’s about to engulf them all, she can’t help but smile slightly. It’s going to be challenging, stressful, and probably more than a little crazy. But as she watches Max’s eyes light up at the mention of your name, she realizes that maybe, just maybe, it might all be worth it in the end.

After all, who doesn’t love a good fairy tale?

[dollyichi]

I JUST GOT A CRUSH! ᯓ★ katsuki bakugou x f ! reader. 1.02k words / fluff / not proofread

bakugou is bad at social media. not exactly terrible, yet not so great either.

he really doesn’t care too much for it nor does he use it that often but he’s not that unfamiliar with it. he finds himself being on tiktok from time to time though he never really bothered to make it known that he had an account in the first place, just enjoying whatever he comes across and liberally blocks accounts that come up on his fyp that pissed him off. he never posts anything either so it didn’t matter. it’s a typical account with a generated username and a blank profile, 57 following, 0 followers.

recently he found a video that he wanted to share (an edit made by a fan) and posts the link on twitter, alongside saying how ‘it’s real sick’ of them to make that for him. he didn’t even know videos like that were famous. the effort and skill it took made him think it were cool.

what he also didn’t know, was that his profile would be revealed when you press on the link.

he got so confused when his account suddenly gained so many followers in just two days since he ‘never mentioned it.’ that was until he sees the replies on his tweet that the linked he used to share got him exposed.

he checks it out for himself which proved that he did actually share his account without knowing, but it’s ‘whatever.’ even after everyone found out he just used it like normal. it’s only a pain when they kept asking him to post something.

he truly is without care, yet he underestimates the fans who immediately stalk his ‘almost’ empty profile. you see, he doesn’t know that his reposts are public because he doesn’t actually look at his own profile. it’s usually a like, like, repost, favorite, like, then close app routine that he does before he goes to bed.

there's a few funny videos here and there, cooking videos and recipes too, things he'd like to try out soon for himself, or techniques that were really helpful for him. some are also videos of fan edits that he recently discovered, where the same video he shared was at the top of the page.

yet, there was one reoccurring face that kept popping up. a pretty girl who likes to lip sync some songs or show off their trinket hauls. sometimes mini vlogs from their day to day or makeup vids. and the topic trends everywhere: DYNAMIGHT TIKTOK CRUSH

when you saw it you really couldn’t believe it yourself that the one anonymous commenter on your videos was a pro-hero, your favorite nonetheless. though, it makes you a little nervous since your face is plastered all over different social platforms because you’re only active on that app. you don’t know where to go from there except squeal into your pillows. definitely flattered when you recall the many times he called you pretty on your vlogs.

as the rest dive deeper into his little ‘crush’ they even saw him comment on a few of your videos with compliments that sounded extra flirty. they teased him so hard saying how he looks like a creep especially with that profile. he’s never gonna hear the end of it. soon a new topic blows up that reads: GO FOR IT DYNAMIGHT

in his defense, if he were to give anyone an explanation, he thinks you have a really nice smile and a really soothing voice. also that you’re real cute and charming, that’s why he could watch and even rewatch all your content in one sitting. he couldn’t get enough of you, absolutely smitten. even had to ask kirishima how to turn on notifications for an account in the guise of turning it on for his agency's tiktok.

you’re also the only account he’s following that’s not a cooking channel or a pro-hero. and yeah it’s basically all that, a crush. not that he expects you to actually give him a chance, he’s happy just seeing your content.

however, the poor (not really) bakugou is actually unaware of the whole situation of his ‘tiktok crush’ trending since he was finishing a mission. only finding out when he got a call from kirishima asking if he found a girlfriend already. “what the fuck are you on about?”

“your fans are talking about how you keep reposting videos of this one girl on tiktok. i mean, it’s kinda obvious if you��re dating.” and it hits him, quick. your username (the one he could only remember, really) flashes in his head, but he laughs it off. “nah nothin’ like that. think i could shoot my shot though?” he asks him and kirishima says, “haha! i think she already beat you to it.”

not knowing what he meant, he swiftly gets home, showers, and lays on his couch whipping his phone out of his pocket to search up your username. and there he was, staring at his phone, unable to stop the smile on his face when he sees the thumbnail of your new video. he opens it immediately and there you were, holding a dynamight figurine (a very limited one too!) close to your cheek that you’ve never shown before until now. you never thought to show it thinking he might see it and think of you as weirdo. it gave the opposite effect actually, even made him more confident because who would've thought your pretty collection had a 'random guy' in there (definitely not random for you at least).

bakugou immediately likes, reposts and adds it to his favorites. even screen recording the whole thing cause you never gave access to download your videos—it was a very special moment for him okay!

he then comments, ‘you can have the real thing too.’

a few minutes later it’s got your icon with a heart beside it. he chuckles, happy that you finally noticed him. beams when he gets a notification that you followed him back.

he’s definitely going to dm you after he calms down. just hopes this time you don't beat him to it again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i love a katsuki with a crush i think it's so cute. but i love it even more that he's still confident about it!!! i like to think that reader probably has like 20k followers or something so pretty big but not as big as the others. the first time he met you he stumbles upon a video of you talking about the ice cream u just got and then he got hooked cause u were so cute when u were picking the flavor. PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS ON TIKTOK BTW >< also minors & ageless blogs please do not follow me!

[marypsue]

Man, it's cool and all if you see a metaphor for marginalisation in the monstrous, and if you want the power fantasy of 'what if you could just eat anybody who threatened you/pissed you off'. Me too.

However, as soon as you start saying 'no, these monsters are a 1:1 on Specific Marginalised Group, and you have to treat them in the fiction like they are directly representative of real human members of the marginalised group', BUT you also, in the fiction, make them hurt/kill/eat humans? And then try to shame me, your audience, for noticing or engaging with the bit where they kill people, because you made them directly representative of a real-world marginalised group? You have lost me, and also, I think, the plot.

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe and sensitive!reader spending the holidays together

18+ mdni! 

c/w: fluff, her ovulating and being horny, smut: p-in-v, slight breeding kink, use of dad

wc: 1.5k

ugh i’ve missed this man

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Why is he doin’ that shit?”  

“Rafe, it’s a rom-com,” she reasons, practically glued to him on their couch with the way she keeps shifting closer and closer, almost unconsciously at this point.   

“Yeah, a shitty one. Why was it necessary to do a whole fuckin’ speech at the mall? He couldn’t jus’ I dunno, tell her how he felt?” he scoffs, clearly fed up with the entire film already. 

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?” 

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?” 

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.  

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs. 

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.    

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.   

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.    

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.    

“Yeah? You like it?”    

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.    

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”    

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.    

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.  

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.  

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.   

“Yeah, crazy ���bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.    

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips. 

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way. 

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”  

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.    

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.    

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.    

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.    

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.    

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.  

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.    

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.     

However, she merely grants him another whine.   

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.   

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.    

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.   

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.  

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.  

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.    

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.    

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.    

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”    

“You do?”    

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”    

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.    

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw, primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.    

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.  

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.    

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.   

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.    

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”  

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.    

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.    

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.    

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”   

She shakes her head.   

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.    

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.  

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.   

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.    

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.   

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.    

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.   

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.  

“Mm, I love you,” she whimpers— practically feeling him in her guts as his cock pokes at the spongy spot inside her while his big hands help situate her on top of him, and she thinks this might just be heaven on earth.

[argonautsoul]

“Oh, to be able to be admired, cared for, loved, without needing to do any other thing than existing. No need to fight. Just to care, and nourish one and each other...”

Love isn’t something you feel, though. It’s something you do. And so,

loving someone is loving who they are.

When people feel that they are not understood, it frequently is due to not enough empathy going both ways...

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

Here, one is actually saying: “I was in love with the fantasy relationship I wanted him/her to give me, but s/he wasn't offering me that; (I didn't like the way s/he was treating me)”.

Whatever you understand about your partner is your perspective. It is not what s/he really is. Whatever you attribute to your partner is in relation to you.

True love is based on accepting each other as they are... and you can't love something that you actually don't like... you can't love the other one if you don't actually enjoy the way s/he makes you feel.

Preferences are more about us than the other person, so first, try to give yourself what you are seeking from your date or partner.

Love isn't about trying to change someone to fit our idea of perfect.

What's more,

Forever, one can not fully understand the other one at all. This is the beauty of how they were created. Therefore, there is conflict between them.

Even within ourselves, there are/can be some deep-seated subconscious behaviours and beliefs that we don’t understand.

It is about accepting the whole person, even the parts you don't fully understand or agree with.

People's personalities change and grow over time. As you go through life together, you'll see new sides of each other. True love allows for that growth and accepts the ever-changing nature of your partner, even as their outer personality shifts. 

Any relationship is in a state of change, part of which is continuous knowledge of the other.

“Love isn’t a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun like struggle. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now.”

 — Fred Rogers

And hence, constant effort is needed to accept and adjust themselves to keep up with the changing lifestyles along the way with the changing society.

It takes time to grow together. And we want the maturity in a relationship that comes with time, the emotional connect that develops over years, that sense of belonging when we barely even know the other person... Apparently, nothing is worth our time, effort, and patience. Not even love. Relationships, however, require energy and participation.

Cognitive biases can be particularly damaging because they distort our perceptions and interpretations of our partners' actions and motives.

Cognitive bias is so difficult to acknowledge, understand, or be aware of within ourselves because we actively protect our beliefs. Sometimes, this means denying truth or new information that comes to us (a la cognitive dissonance).

In addition,

Depressed people don’t have the energy, and if they are caught up in the very common mode of isolation because of their depression they are definitely not participating... sometimes, there is an element of mental illness involved in this arena in general.

Lastly,

We don't really need an intellectual twin who can finish our sentences.

And that level of interconnection isn’t necessary. As long as they treat you appropriately, even if they don’t understand you completely, you can still have a very fulfilling relationship.

Love is a commitment, not about the mushy gushy feelings.

Let the commitment be the beginning of understanding. 

══════☸☸☸══════

Too often, in this culture, we cloud the picture, overanalyze, fear those conscious efforts, and insist that love means something very definable and ultimately acceptable — don’t get sucked into the madness, stay in your true path and please, please find a partner who is similar to you (i.e., hold similar values), who cares about your thoughts and feelings, and genuinely enjoys your company.

And read “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman. It’s eye-opening to realize that someone may be figuratively shouting their love from the rooftops — but you aren’t “hearing” it. Communication is key, as long as you understand your partner’s language.

.

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

[Text ID: “I would have preferred if you had loved me less and understood me more.”]

[dollishmehrayan]

# CHRISTMAS TREE DECORATING AND CHAOS ── .✦ ( decorating trees with batboys ‘separated’! ⋆౨ৎ

a/n: I literally feel so happy genuinely now, I guess my mental health is getting better && anyways i have 64 requests to get to… i truly need to speed run through these but some I can’t do sadly 😭 so sorryy ᥫ᭡, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The king of enthusiasm: As soon as you suggest decorating the tree together, he’s all in.

“We’re going for the most extra tree Gotham has ever seen!” He wants it tall enough to touch the ceiling and glittery enough to blind someone.

He’s the guy who insists on climbing to the very top to put on the star, even though he wobbles dangerously on the ladder.

Sings Christmas songs (terribly off-key he’s also like tone deaf and beat deaf it’s a curse to hear him sing something at karaoke) while you decorate, complete with dramatic twirls and spins around the tree.

Accidentally tangles himself in the lights at least twice. “I’m fine, I’m fine! I was just… testing the durability!”

Insists on taking a million photos of you with the finished tree, calling you his “Christmas angel.”

When it’s all done, he dims the lights, wraps an arm around you, and whispers, “This might be my favorite Christmas ever.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

He pretends to be indifferent. “Decorating a tree? Sounds boring.” But the second you start, he’s invested.

He’s surprisingly good at untangling lights and getting them perfectly spaced on the tree. “What? I’ve got steady hands.”

Jason leans into more minimalistic decor deep reds, dark greens, and gold accents but he lets you take the lead. “You want glittery ornaments? Fine. But I draw the line at tinsel.” (he’s like those sad beige moms but with like dark traditional Christmas colors…)

Complains about how prickly the tree is the entire time but still helps you string popcorn garlands because he knows it makes you happy.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

He’s excited about decorating but is terrible at it. Tim tries, but he’s way better at figuring out the tech side of things (like synchronized tree lights) than actually hanging ornaments.

Spends 20 minutes untangling lights and another 20 trying to figure out why one strand isn’t working. “It’s science! There’s a method to this madness.”

He’s the type to sneak a caffeine break halfway through while you keep decorating. “What? I need fuel to focus!”

Insists on hanging some nerdy ornaments—little Batman logos, Star Wars-themed ones, or even a tiny Robin figurine.

When you get frustrated with his lack of artistic flair, he pulls you close and says, “Hey, at least I’m good company, right?”

After it’s all done, he insists on dimming the lights and turning on the synchronized tree music. “Look at that. A masterpiece.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Initially acts like it’s beneath him. “Why would I waste time decorating a tree?” But he ends up being surprisingly good at it.

Damian has an eye for symmetry, so every ornament has to be perfectly spaced. “No, that one is too close to the red one. Move it.”

If you mention that decorating the tree is a nostalgic tradition for you, he softens immediately. “Fine. But this had better be worth it.”

He refuses to wear a Christmas sweater, but you catch him smiling when you put on a ridiculous reindeer headband.

Titus gets involved, carrying around ornaments and wagging his tail, which Damian pretends to be annoyed by but secretly loves.

When the tree is finished, he stands back with his arms crossed, pretending not to care. But when you beam at him, he quietly says, “It looks… nice. I suppose this wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

(He buys like 40 ft Christmas trees for the main ball in the manor and like that’s almost impossible to decorate without professionals)

The ultimate perfectionist. He has a very clear vision for the tree, but he tries to let you take the lead. “It’s your tradition. I’ll follow your lead… mostly.”

Insists on using the tallest tree that will fit in Wayne Manor and hires a team to bring it in.

He’s all about elegant, classic decorations white lights, glass ornaments, and a tasteful tree topper. But if you want colorful lights or quirky ornaments, he’ll indulge you.

Offers to lift you up to reach the highest branches instead of letting you use a ladder. “I don’t need you breaking your neck before the gala.”

Alfred brings hot cocoa and cookies halfway through, smiling at how relaxed Bruce looks around you.

When the tree is done, he turns to you and says, “It’s perfect. Just like this moment.” Then he pulls you into a rare, heartfelt kiss under the twinkling lights.

[halfwayhearted]

Sore Eyes — Paige Bueckers.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Fem!Reader

Summary: After finally acquiring a jersey with your girlfriend’s name on it, you want nothing more than to flaunt it to her.

Word Count: 600+

Disclaimer/s — Hi, this is gay… FLUFF, FLUFF, AND FLUFF!

A/N: Mannnn. Nobody say a WOOOOORD. FUCK 😭😭😭😭

It first started when you received the box in the mail. Already knowing what was inside, a smile graced your lips while you brought it up to your apartment, the box tucked under your forearm.

You spotted the blonde on the couch, scrolling through her phone, fingers pressed to her mouth as she was deeply engrossed in a video playing.

That’s when you exclaimed. “Paige! Paige, look!”

At the sound of your voice, Paige lifts her head immediately, setting her phone aside and rising to her feet. Her brows knit together when she spots the package. “Hi, I’m looking. What’d you get?”

“You’ll see. Come here, we’ll open it together.”

Already intrigued, she makes her way toward you in the kitchen, her gaze never leaving yours even as you move to sit down. She takes the seat in front of you, ensuring just a smidge of contact.

Setting the box down, you grab a pair of scissors and slide it through the cracks, pulling the cardboard open. That's when both of you spot the bag, and your smile widens. “You got a shirt?”

"Not just a shirt,” you drawl, slipping the bag out and reaching for it. “I got a jersey. Your jersey.”

Her eyebrows raise at that. “You got my jersey?”

“I got your jersey!” You echo excitedly, eyes focused on tenderly taking it out of its packaging.

“You do know I could’ve given you one for free.”

That’s when you look up at her. “Paige—babe, you’re ruining the romantic part of the moment.”

She offers a laugh, placing her hands on the back of your knees and pulling you closer. “Sorry. I’m excited to see you wear it—you’ll look good in it.”

Fighting the blush that threatens to spread across your cheeks, you carefully lay the jersey flat on the table. “So, you have a game tomorrow, right?”

“I do. Did you change your mind? Are you going?” Paige questions, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as her head tilts. You hadn’t been able to attend any of her recent games in person, though you never failed to watch them on television. She’d never catch you missing any of her games.

That meant more to her than you’d ever realize.

Your expression softens and you nod. “If that’s—”

“Are you joking? If that’s what I want? Of course that’s what I want. I’ll save you a seat in the front.”

“Beautiful! Beautiful! I’ll so be there.” You paused, swiftly whipping out a permanent marker. “Can I have your autograph now or what? Let me know.”

Paige narrows her eyes, the smile on her face only broadening as she lets out a quiet huff, teasingly snatching the marker from your hand. Her eyes remain fixed on you; she leans over, then they drift down to the jersey and she signs her name.

“This could actually sell for hundreds, I think.”

Uttering your name, she moves to flick your arm. “Shut up—come on, let’s go to bed. ‘M tired.”

That’s when you stand, holding out a hand which she gratefully takes and uses to stand up herself. Using her free hand to grab your jersey, the roughness of her actions makes you frown. “Hello, Paige, what the hell? Be careful with that. That was over, like, ninety bucks if you even care.”

She nods slowly, trying (and failing) to hold in her chuckle. “I’m terribly sorry.” And with that, your girlfriend delicately hangs it over her wrist, looks over at you for approval, and when you give her just that, she places a loving kiss on your temple.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @lechrts + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[ms-demeanor]

are there really chiropractors out there right now who are claiming they can treat all that stuff?? im really actually asking because ive never seen anything like that at all, but obviously i might just be really lucky. i constantly see people saying chiropractors claim they can treat everything, and its just baffling to me. my chiropractor is pretty young (so maybe she just doesnt have the same attitude as older ones?) and went to med school for physical therapy before becoming a chiropractor, and shes the only doctor out of the dozens ive seen who already knew what hyper-mobile ehlers-danlos syndrome is before meeting me. shes never once said anything about treating anything at all beyond the issues in my back from my muscles going whack, and has actually suggested i see a physical therapist (and referred me to one) to strengthen my back so i dont have to see her very often. i assumed that was the normal experience with chiropractors, but did i just luck out? are the majority of chiropractors really insane and claiming they can cure diabetes and stuff?? thats so crazy to think about...

Just to clarify: your chiropractor is not a doctor. Having a doctorate in physical therapy does not make one an MD, having a DC degree does not make one an MD. People who become physical therapists go to school for physical therapy, but that wouldn't really be called medical school any more than getting a degree in nutrition would be called medical school.

I want to be very firm here because you're using the words "medical school" and "doctor" and that indicates to me that she IS claiming to be more than what she actually is, which is a chiropractor and possibly a physical therapist, both of which have requirements that pale in comparison to the training that MDs (or even nurse practitioners or physician's assistants) go through. But chiropractors really like to let people believe that they're doctors. They're not. They're chiropractors.

It's a very good thing that your chiropractor has told you to seek other care for your back pain; neck and spinal adjustments are potentially life threatening to people who don't have connective tissue disorders and are *extremely* dangerous and an even greater risk for people who DO have hypermobility issues (check out what @thebibliosphere has to say about chiropractic and EDS). A licensed physical therapist will be able to do much, much more for you than a chiropractor, and is a MUCH safer choice.

Now, all of that being said:

Yeah it's super common for chiropractors to claim they can treat all kinds of nonsense and when they're doing so it is probably technically illegal and if they actually treat stuff it's probably technically practicing medicine without a license and can be really fucking dangerous if it convinces people to forgo evidence-based treatment.

Here's a chiropractor in LA claiming to treat a laundry list of ailments:

Here's one also in LA county whose yelp photo is of her doing spinal manipulation on a baby (Literally never ever let a chiropractor treat your child it can no-shit kill them) and offering prenatal and perinatal care

Here's a guy in North Hollywood claiming to treat asthma and allergies with chiropractic:

It's not the majority of chiropractors, but it's more than you'd want.

[mathsbian]

A huge part of this is the paywall to actual research articles online.

Pseudoscience articles are freely available to read, while you have to try and few different places to find one research paper you’re interested in reading more from. I have taught myself tricks to get around this. Most people don’t learn these tricks, so the people turning to pseudoscience are just. People. Trying their best to learn. And getting suckered in by the “information” that’s easy to access.

Because obviously, surgeons are still going to have to go through a lot of training before they cut open a living, breathing person who is depending on this surgery to increase their health. Pharmacists are still going to need training on drug interactions so they can advise you on adverse reactions from taking two particular drugs together. But that doesn’t mean you still shouldn’t be able to stay up-to-date on current research about conditions you have or care about, or be able to attend lectures or classes that interest you. Or that you shouldn’t have final say on what surgeries you get and what drugs you take.

Thread from Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez on her experience in a hospital in Cuba

[tonycries]

After reading your ever single one the writing I have one question.

How long do you think the jjk men are? As in there length

WELL....why stop at analyzing only length? 👀👀👀

Toji - oh god, man is thick. One of the thickest here fr. Uncut. I'm thinkinggg about 8.5 inches but he says he's 9 - either way OUCH 🤕 Such a pretty creamy color, too, and so VEINY. Probably super unruly with his pubes and you'd have to 😈convince😈 him to shave it off if you wanted otherwize.

Nanami - PHEWWWWW BIG D IN THE HOUSE 😈😈 I say a good 8.6 inches and the moment he spots your pretty wedding band while pushing you into the meanest mating press then he can probably go for 9 😳 Cut, shaved, and pretty - the tips of his ears blush the same coral pink as his tip.

Geto - OUUUU so he's another thick one - double c's n' all. Probably about 7.8 - 8 inches and erm...pierced 😩 A pretty studded Prince Albert's, and he's so girthy that Geto has to have you toy with him to actually see it. Probably uncut and slightly on the unruly side like Toji but not as much, he just doesn't care too much for it when leading a cult and serving evil cunt ykyk 😔

Choso - HMHMHMMMM now either he's 7.2 inches or fucking 11 👀 Your pick 👀 Genuinely wonder what magic he could do with that cursed technique of his oml 😩 Uncut and blushes such a pretty strawberry pink - but I think he'd be pretty unruly after being kept in a jar for 150 years so. Deffo shaves and tidies himself up in an instant if you ask!!

Sukuna - girl....RIP that pussy 🤕 You think he'd be seven feet tall and NOT have a monster cock - I'm sorry but man is probably around 13 inches on both cocks 🤕🤕 YEOWCH 💀 Doesn't care too much for manscaping but- honestly- do you even have time to worry? Worry about your internal organs.

Ino - around 6.9 (hehe) to 7.1 inches and pretty UGH we have another pretty boy 😩 Not overly on the girthy side, but Ino's special power is in the way he's curved - just the exact few degrees upwards to bruise your g-spot like no other 💯 Shaved and cut I'd say and he probably thought about getting it pierced to make you feel better (awwww bby) <333

Gojo - don't even ask about his dick because he's got one to match that stupid ego of his ☹ Smh about 9.4 inches mayhaps, and cut. Not especially girthy but you know damn well he's making use of that length RIP 💀 Spends some of the most time keeping his happy trail n' his pubes kempt and oooo he's probably the one that gets the reddest of them all 😋 Like those strawberry lollies he steals from you 😋

[maskedbyghost]

i love fics where simon is obsessed with the reader, but the ones where reader is the stalker? chef's kiss. so let me set the scene for you babes:

when you first saw him, it felt like the world stopped for a moment—like every boring day you spent trudging through the monotony of life suddenly made sense. simon riley was something else, larger than life, and somehow more magnetic than anyone had the right to be. you knew you’d never be the same the moment you locked eyes with him in the briefing room that first day.

your transfer to the task force was fate. it had to be. how else could you explain the perfect alignment of events that led you to him? captain price barely got through his introductions before you’d cataloged every scar visible above simon’s mask, taken mental notes of his broad frame, and wondered just how his voice might sound murmuring your name in the dark.

you found yourself naturally gravitating to him—the way a moth is drawn to a flame. and maybe you flew a little too close too fast, but you didn’t care. when he stood silent in the corner, your feet took you to him. during training drills, your gaze zeroed in on his every movement, memorizing his efficiency and strength. at the mess hall? you were never more than a table away. oh, and when some other soldier—jessica—got a little too cozy with him? well, let’s just say the entire task force knew that no one casually chatted up ghost without your looming presence in the vicinity. you might’ve accidentally spilled your coffee all over jessica’s lap the day she dared to pat his arm. oops.

at first, simon didn’t say much about it. not when you conveniently bumped into him outside the barracks after every mission, nor when you “forgot” your hoodie in his locker room, just to see if he’d notice. his quiet smirk here and there was the only tell—almost like he knew exactly what you were doing and found it charming.

but when he finally cornered you one night in the base’s dimly lit halls, his voice low as he pinned you with that gaze, your heart all but exploded in your chest.

“why’d you scare off half the team today?” your mouth opened, words forming in your head but caught on the tip of your tongue. was he angry? maybe you’d gone too far—but then simon leaned in closer, crowding your space. the warmth of his breath against your ear made you freeze.

“not complaining,” he murmured, “just wondering how long you’re gonna make me wait before you make it obvious.”

your lips parted to question him, but his fingers gently trailed up your arm, anchoring your spinning mind to him.

“i see you,” he continued. “you don’t think i notice how you follow me around like some little shadow? hmm?” he didn’t sound annoyed—far from it, actually. there was something downright pleased about his words.

the realization nearly took your breath away. he liked it. he wanted you close.

“no one else gets to,” you blurted out, owning that possessiveness with every fiber of your being. “not them, not anyone. only me.”

you braced for a reprimand, but instead, simon’s mask shifted just enough for you to catch the tiniest upward curl of his lips. a smile. genuine, real, and meant only for you.

“good.” his voice rumbled with approval, sending a warm shiver down your spine. “you’re the only one i want close, anyway.”

and from that night on, every time your possessiveness made itself known—an icy glare at another woman, an intentional interruption of a conversation he didn’t want to have—simon only smiled.

you might’ve been obsessed, but the truth was simple: so was he. and everyone else? they didn’t matter. you were his, just as much as he was yours.

exactly as it should be.

--------------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[tornad001]

what do we do if we're gender abolitionists? i feel like the majority of these ppl, without even realizing it or being able to name it as such, have landed on a rather interesting form of gender abolitionism.

forget trans ppl specifically for a sec and think more broadly of queer spaces. if a person who used to be a manly man and is now a girly girl is a woman in the exact same respect as a femboy-turned-butch lesbian is a woman in the exact same respect as a country gal who isn't particularly masc or fem is a woman in the exact same respect as a flamboyant chick who unironically wears drag-queen level makeup everywhere is a woman....

i think the trend ppl find themselves clueing into unconsciously is that the marker "woman" is just so grossly broad as to be meaningless. it doesn't say anything about who u are, what u like or dislike, what causes u support, how u engage with or perceive the world. it doesn't say anything about your relationship to your own sex, sexuality, gender, nothing. what does it actually meaningfully tell you about a person? does it give you insight into their lived experiences? does it even tell u all that much about the roles that've been thrust upon them by the patriarchy?

i get where trans ppl come from emotionally when they want to be validated in their gender, but im not sure that a gender abolitionist understanding of it is compatible with that kind of emotional validity, at least not without some mental acrobatics. is it invalidating to say to a trans woman "you have exactly as much claim to womanhood as everyone else" if they know that u think everyone, man, woman, or other has precisely the same claim to womanhood?

is it that "trans women can ONLY be women in a world where the word 'woman' holds no meaning" or is it that "we live in a world where the word 'woman' holds no meaning... AND trans women are women"? i know some ppl aren't gonna get the difference between those but hopefully the ones i care about understanding it do

as far as i can tell, the only real actual difference between a woman and someone who isn't a woman, is (tautologically) their desire to be associated with the word "woman". its more of a linguistic game than anything else and that's not a reality that a lot of ppl (much less trans ppl) are comfortable with. granted, a lot of them are ok with and in fact revel in that fact (myself among them)

idk just some thoughts i've been having

"Trans women are actually women for real, not in a metaphorical sense, not in a "anyone can be anything" sense, but genuinely actually make more taxonomic sense to classify in the category of women than any other group you could classify them in" is a position you'll find is pretty radical even in queer spaces

[s4kura-tr3]

Could you make a crybaby reader with JJK men? Like just an overly sensitive/nice reader? It’s okay if not! Have a good day!

Sensitive!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji

Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru never meant to upset you—he rarely ever did. But today, his usual playful teasing hit you harder than usual.

You were sitting on the couch together, scrolling through your phone while he flipped lazily through the channels on the TV. Out of nowhere, Gojo chuckled and said, “You know, you’re so dramatic sometimes. It’s kinda cute, but it’s like everything’s the end of the world for you.”

You froze, his words hitting a nerve. Dramatic. That’s how people had dismissed your feelings for years. You tried to brush it off, but your chest tightened, and your vision blurred slightly as you blinked back tears.

Gojo didn’t notice at first, still flipping channels and humming to himself. But when you didn’t respond with your usual witty comeback, he glanced over and saw your downturned face.

“Wait,” he said, sitting up immediately. “Did I say something wrong?”

You didn��t answer right away, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check.

“Hey,” he said more gently now, setting the remote down. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Finally, you looked at him, your voice quiet. “You called me dramatic. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? It’s like every time I feel something, people just… dismiss me.”

Gojo’s eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “Oh no. No, no, no, that’s not what I meant,” he said, scooting closer to you on the couch. “I wasn’t trying to dismiss you. I swear, I just—ugh, sometimes I don’t think before I speak.”

You didn’t reply, still feeling the sting of his words.

Gojo reached for your hands, holding them in his warm, large ones. “I’m really sorry,” he said softly. “You’re not dramatic. You just feel things deeply, and I love that about you. It’s one of my favorite things about you, actually. You care so much, and that’s rare. Honestly, I wish I was more like you sometimes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

“I mean it,” he continued. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that wasn’t a good thing. It is. You’re amazing, and I’m lucky you put up with my dumb jokes.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite your lingering hurt. “You really think that?”

Gojo grinned, his usual playful energy returning as he kissed your knuckles. “I think you’re perfect. And I’m perfectly terrible at saying things the right way. Forgive me?”

You sighed, the weight in your chest easing. “Okay. But maybe think before you speak next time?”

“Deal,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll even let you pick the movie tonight as a peace offering. But only if it’s not boring.”

You laughed softly, and just like that, Gojo had you smiling again, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

Geto Suguru

It was late in the evening, and you and Geto Suguru were sitting together in a cozy café. He had insisted on taking you out to unwind after a long week, and for a while, the warm atmosphere and his gentle company had done just that. But then, the conversation took an unexpected turn.

You were talking about a project you’d been working on—how much effort you’d put into it and how nervous you were about how it would turn out. Somewhere in the middle of your rambling, Geto chuckled softly and said, “You really overthink things sometimes, don’t you?”

His tone was light, and you knew he didn’t mean it maliciously, but the comment stopped you in your tracks. Your heart sank, and your chest tightened as those familiar insecurities reared their heads. You looked down at your tea, your appetite for conversation disappearing.

Geto immediately noticed the shift in your mood. He tilted his head, his dark eyes softening with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, leaning closer.

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “Did I say something wrong?”

You hesitated, but his steady gaze encouraged you to speak. “It’s just… when you said I overthink things. I know I do, okay? I hear it all the time, and I hate that about myself. It feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough, and people just see me as… too much.”

Geto’s expression shifted immediately, a flicker of regret crossing his face. “Hey, no, that’s not what I meant at all,” he said softly, his voice full of sincerity.

You looked away, but he gently reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone warm and steady. “I wasn’t trying to say that in a bad way. I know you overthink because you care. You care so much about everything, and that’s not a flaw—it’s a strength.”

You blinked at him, his words catching you off guard.

“You put your whole heart into what you do, and yeah, sometimes it makes you nervous or unsure, but that’s only because you want things to be perfect,” he continued. “And honestly? That’s one of the things I admire most about you. I could never think of that as a bad thing.”

The tightness in your chest began to ease as his words sank in. “You really mean that?” you asked softly.

Geto smiled gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Of course I do. And I’m sorry if what I said made you feel like I didn’t. I’ll be more careful with my words next time.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you.”

He chuckled softly. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job to remind you how amazing you are when you forget.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and the tension that had settled between you melted away.

“Now,” he said, his tone lightening as he leaned back in his chair, “how about I make it up to you with dessert? I hear they’ve got a mean matcha cheesecake here.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

“Always,” he said with a playful smirk, raising his hand to call for the waiter.

Nanami Kento

Nanami Kento had had an exhausting day. Every step he took up the stairs to your shared apartment felt heavier than the last, and all he wanted was to come home, see you, and let the warmth of your presence melt away the stress.

When he opened the door, you greeted him with your usual enthusiasm, rushing over to pull him into a tight hug. “Kento! You’re home!” you exclaimed, your excitement practically radiating off you.

He managed a small smile and placed a hand on your back, but the weight of his day still hung over him. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice tired.

You didn’t seem to notice his exhaustion as you began talking a mile a minute. “I missed you! You won’t believe the day I had—oh, and guess what? I tried that recipe you love, and I think it turned out amazing! Oh, and Louis did the funniest thing today—”

“Can you give me a second?” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

The room fell silent, and the warmth in your expression dimmed instantly. You stepped back, your arms falling to your sides. “Oh,” you said softly. “Sorry.”

Nanami immediately felt a pang of regret as he saw the hurt in your eyes. You weren’t upset because he was tired—you were upset because he’d made you feel like your excitement didn’t matter to him.

You turned away, mumbling something about letting him settle in, but he quickly reached out and gently grabbed your hand. “Wait,” he said, his voice softer now.

You hesitated, looking at him but avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not your fault I had a hard day. I… I was looking forward to seeing you all day, and then I let my frustration get in the way.”

You blinked, your lips trembling slightly. “I just wanted to make you happy,” you admitted quietly.

“And you do,” he said immediately, stepping closer to you. “You’re the best part of my day. Always.”

Your eyes met his then, searching his face for the truth in his words. His expression was soft, full of remorse and affection.

“I don’t deserve to have you greet me with so much love after the way I acted,” he said, gently pulling you into his arms. “But I promise I’ll do better. You’re everything to me, and I should have treated you like it.”

You rested your forehead against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around you. “I just got too excited,” you murmured.

“And I love that about you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Your excitement, your energy—it’s what makes this place feel like home. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate it like I should’ve.”

For a moment, you stood there in his embrace, his warmth and steady heartbeat easing the lingering hurt.

“Do you want to sit down and tell me about your day?” he asked after a moment, pulling back slightly to look at you. “I want to hear everything.”

You hesitated, then nodded, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Okay. But only if you let me heat up dinner for you first.”

He chuckled softly. “Deal. But don’t rush—just being here with you is enough.”

And as you led him to the table, the weight of his day began to lift, replaced by the comfort of knowing he was home—with you.

Toji fushiguro

Toji Fushiguro wasn’t the type to watch his words. His bluntness was just part of who he was—sharp, quick, and sometimes careless. Most of the time, you brushed it off, knowing he didn’t mean to hurt you. But tonight, it cut deeper than usual.

The two of you were in the kitchen after dinner. You were putting away dishes, humming softly, while Toji leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, watching you.

“I’ve been thinking about trying something new,” you said, your tone excited. “Like a cooking class or maybe painting—something creative. I think it could be fun.”

Toji grunted in response, not looking up from the dish he was drying.

You hesitated but kept going, trying to draw him into the conversation. “What do you think? Would you want to try something like that with me?”

Toji sighed and set the dish down a little too hard, the sound making you flinch. “You don’t stick with stuff like that, do you?” he said, his voice flat. “You get all excited and then drop it a week later. What’s the point?”

You froze, his words hitting harder than you expected. You knew he had a point—sometimes you did lose interest in things quickly. But hearing him say it so bluntly, so dismissively, made your chest tighten.

“I…” Your voice wavered as you set the plate in your hands on the counter. “I just thought it’d be nice to do something together.”

Toji finally looked up, his brows furrowing when he saw the way your shoulders slumped. “Hey, don’t get all upset about it,” he said, his tone softening, but it didn’t help.

“I’m not upset,” you said quickly, though the slight tremble in your voice betrayed you. “I just… never mind.”

You turned away, trying to hide the tears that were already welling up, but Toji wasn’t one to let things go.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now as he stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, but when you tried to brush past him, he caught your wrist gently.

“Look at me,” he said firmly, his tone still low but insistent. You hesitated, and when you finally met his gaze, he could see the hurt in your eyes.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his grip on your wrist loosening. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You didn’t have to say it at all,” you whispered. “You make me feel like I’m… not good at anything.”

Toji’s jaw tightened, guilt flashing across his face. He wasn’t good at this—at saying the right things or fixing mistakes—but he hated seeing you like this, especially when he was the one who caused it.

“You’re good at plenty of things,” he said, his tone softer now. “And… I’m an idiot for saying that to you. I wasn’t trying to put you down. I just… I don’t know how to say things without sounding like a jerk sometimes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he admitted after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “The cooking class or whatever. And I’d do it with you if that’s what you want.”

“You don’t have to just say that,” you murmured.

“I’m not just saying it,” he said, stepping closer until he could wrap his arms around you. “You’re trying to do something fun, and instead of supporting you, I ran my mouth like an idiot. I’m sorry.”

His arms around you were warm and steady, and you could feel the sincerity in the way he held you.

“You’d really go with me?” you asked, your voice still small.

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Even if I suck at it, I’d go. For you.”

Your lips quirked up into a small smile, the sting of his earlier words starting to fade. “Okay,” you said softly, leaning into his chest.

Toji smirked, holding you a little tighter. “Good. But don’t expect me to wear an apron or anything. That’s where I draw the line.”

You laughed, the sound lightening the room, and he sighed in relief, grateful to see your smile again.

Sukuna Ryomen

The Heian era was a time of beauty and chaos, and life with Sukuna Ryomen was no exception. Known as the King of Curses, Sukuna was feared across the land, but to you, he was something else entirely. His presence, though intimidating, had always been a source of strange comfort. However, his sharp tongue often betrayed him, and tonight was one of those nights.

You had spent the entire day crafting something special—a delicate embroidered cloth featuring patterns of crimson and gold, colors you knew he favored. Each stitch was precise, your fingers aching by the time you finished, but the thought of presenting it to Sukuna filled you with anticipation.

When you brought the finished piece to him that evening, you entered his chambers with cautious excitement, kneeling before him as he sat on his throne-like dais. “My lord,” you began softly, holding out the cloth, “I made this for you. I thought you might like it.”

Sukuna’s four crimson eyes flicked to the offering, and for a brief moment, there was silence. Then he spoke, his tone as sharp as ever.

“You spent all day on this?” he said, his voice laced with disdain. “What use do I have for something so… trivial?”

The words hit you harder than you anticipated. You had poured your heart into the gift, hoping to please him, and now your efforts felt meaningless. You lowered your hands, clutching the cloth tightly as your vision blurred with tears you desperately tried to hold back.

“I… I just wanted to give you something,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

Sukuna’s brows furrowed at the shift in your tone. He could sense your emotions as clearly as the tension in the air, and the sight of you so visibly upset stirred something in him—something he wasn’t used to feeling.

“Tch,” he muttered, leaning forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you. “Why are you crying? I didn’t tell you to do something like this.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “I know. I just… I thought it would make you happy.”

Sukuna let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t good at this—at softening his edges. But seeing you like this unsettled him in a way that battles and curses never could

“Look at me,” he commanded, his tone firm but quieter now.

Reluctantly, you raised your eyes to meet his. His gaze wasn’t as harsh as before, and for a moment, the room felt less heavy.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I’m not good with… things like this.” He gestured vaguely at the cloth in your hands. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “You… you do?”

“Yes,” he said, almost impatiently, but his tone lacked its usual edge. “I’m just not someone who knows how to handle… thoughtful gestures. But that doesn’t mean they’re wasted on me.”

You blinked, the sting of his earlier words starting to fade. “I just wanted to give you something that reminded you of… us. Of me.”

Sukuna’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “And you think I could forget you?”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and he chuckled lowly, clearly pleased with your reaction. He reached out, taking the cloth from your hands, his fingers brushing yours briefly.

“It’s well-made,” he admitted, running his thumb over the intricate stitching. “Better than I expected.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and Sukuna leaned back, his gaze softening just slightly. “Next time, don’t exhaust yourself for my sake,” he said. “You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

“I just wanted to make you happy,” you said softly, your earlier sadness melting away.

“You do,” he replied, his voice quiet but steady. “Even without this.”

The warmth in his words made your heart ache in the best way, and as he set the cloth aside carefully, you knew that, in his own way, Sukuna was trying.

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi Fushiguro was in a foul mood. Gojo had been pestering him all day—constant teasing, unnecessary tasks, and endless comments that pushed his patience to the brink. By the time he walked through the door, his mind was racing, and he felt like he was ready to snap at anything that moved.

You had been waiting for him to come home, your excitement bubbling as you thought about sharing the small surprise you’d planned for him: his favorite snacks arranged neatly on the coffee table and a cozy spot on the couch waiting for him to relax.

When he walked in, you greeted him with a bright smile. “Megumi! Welcome home! I set up—”

“Can you just give me a second?” he snapped, not even looking up as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag with more force than necessary.

You froze, startled by the sharpness of his tone. “Oh… I didn’t mean to bother you,” you said softly, your voice already trembling slightly.

Megumi sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about you, okay? I just need some space.”

Your chest tightened at his words. He didn’t even glance at the effort you’d put into making his evening better. The snacks, the cozy setup—it all felt meaningless now. “I just wanted to help,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you turned away, your shoulders slumping.

The sound of your soft, hurt tone stopped Megumi in his tracks. He looked up and finally noticed the care you’d put into the room—the snacks, the cozy setting, and the clear effort to make him feel better. Guilt hit him like a wave.

“Wait,” he said, his voice gentler now as he stepped closer to you. “I… I’m sorry.”

You didn’t turn to face him, your hands nervously fiddling with your sleeves. “It’s fine,” you said, though the crack in your voice betrayed your true feelings.

“It’s not fine,” Megumi said, his tone firm but remorseful. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

You glanced back at him, your eyes glistening. “I was just trying to make you feel better,” you murmured, “but if you don’t want me here, I can—”

“No,” he cut in quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to leave. Please.”

He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “It’s been a rough day, and I let my frustration get the better of me. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were trying to do something nice for me, and I acted like an idiot.”

You stared at him for a moment, his rare vulnerability catching you off guard. “You mean that?”

“I do,” he said, stepping closer and gently taking your hand. “I see what you did here. It’s thoughtful, and it means a lot to me. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

Your lips trembled as a small smile broke through. “I just wanted you to relax after your day.”

“And I’m lucky to have you,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. “Let me make it up to you.”

You hesitated before nodding, letting him guide you to the couch. As the two of you sat together, Megumi reached for one of the snacks you’d prepared, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly, glancing at you.

“For what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“For being patient with me,” he said. “And for always knowing how to make things better—even when I don’t deserve it.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned against him, letting the tension of the evening fade away. Megumi might not always get it right, but moments like this reminded you why you loved him so much.

Yuji Itadori

Yuji Itadori wasn’t the type to snap at people—he was always upbeat, kind, and quick to laugh things off. But after a long day of missions, training, and dealing with the stress of being Sukuna’s vessel, he’d finally managed to steal a rare moment of relaxation, engrossed in a video game he’d been trying to beat for weeks.

You, excited to share some news with him, entered the room without realizing how deeply focused he was. “Yuji! Guess what happened today?” you said cheerfully, walking over to him.

“Not now,” he muttered, his eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying across the controller.

You hesitated, unsure if he’d heard you properly. “It’ll only take a second! You won’t believe—”

“I said not now!” he snapped, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard before.

The sudden harshness of his voice made you stop in your tracks. Your excitement vanished, replaced with a sinking feeling in your chest. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before mumbling, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Your voice was so soft, Yuji almost didn’t catch it. But when he heard the hurt in your tone and turned to see the way your expression had fallen, his stomach twisted with guilt.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean—” he started, but you were already backing away. “I’ll just… leave you alone,” you said quietly, heading toward the door.

Yuji quickly paused the game and jumped to his feet. “Wait! Don’t go!”

You stopped but didn’t turn around, your arms crossed tightly as if trying to protect yourself from the sting of his words.

Yuji rubbed the back of his neck, his face filled with regret. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That was really uncool of me.”

You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I just wanted to tell you something. I didn’t think it would make you so mad…”

“I wasn’t mad at you,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “I was just so caught up in the game, and I got frustrated. But that’s not an excuse. You didn’t deserve that.”

You bit your lip, unsure if you should say anything, and Yuji reached out, gently touching your arm. “Hey,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “I’m really, really sorry. You’re way more important to me than some stupid game.”

His words made your heart ache in the best way, and you finally turned to face him fully. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, giving you that familiar, boyish grin that made it hard to stay upset. “Tell me what happened today. I want to hear everything.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to interrupt…” you trailed off.

Yuji shook his head quickly. “Forget the game. I want to spend time with you.”

The sincerity in his voice melted away the last of your hurt, and you let yourself smile again. As you started sharing your story, Yuji sat beside you, listening intently, determined to make up for his mistake.

And when you laughed at one of his playful comments, Yuji silently promised himself to never let a moment like that happen again. You were his safe place, his reason to smile, and no game—or anything else—could ever compare.

[flower-boi16]

Octavia’s reaction is 100% justified, actually

So I already made an entire reblog about this but I feel as if this topic is deserving of being its own post because the fandom’s reaction to Octavia has hit a new low. I’m just gonna paste what I said from this reblog here.

So think of this; young girl living in a home with a close relationship to her father. The father is always there to comfort the young girl and even sang a song when she was little as a lullaby to help her sleep due to having nightmares of her father not being there for her, telling her that no matter what, he’ll never leave and she will always be okay.

Cut to many years later, and, suddenly, things change. The father that the young girl held close to…suddenly cheats on his wife and starts obsessing over a random imp over her, even to the point of making sexual remarks about him around her even when she’s uncomfortable. Everything was turned upside down for her, the parents who previously loved each other now loathe on another, and now the father who held his daughter dear starts neglecting her in favor of this random imp.

Which leads the daughter to grow a fear that her father will leave her in favor of that imp, a perfectly understandable one given that it was established before that she has fears of abandonment. THEN when that father takes the daughter to a carnival that she hated when she was a child, he spends most of the day flirting with that imp on the trip that was SUPPOSED TO CHEER HER UP. The daughter gets fed up with this and runs off where the father follows suit. The daughter expresses her fears of abandonment to her father and asks him if he is really going to leave her in favor of that imp. The father says no, realizing his mistake and assures her that he’ll never leave her and decides to take her to a place she actually enjoys as a way to make up for that…

…and then cut to 17 episodes later where the daughter then witnesses her father THROWING HIS LIFE AWAY ON LIVE TELEVISION FOR AN IMP. He told her that he would never leave her, that he wouldn’t chose that imp over her…and he does that with no hesitation. Without even telling her. Octavia doesn’t know shit about whatever close relationship Blitz and Stolas have, to her, Blitz is just some random nobody imp that Stolas is for some reason horny over.

And this effectively cements to Octavia that, she doesn’t matter to her father. He really would choose an imp over her. Sinmass further drives this home with a heart breaking song Octavia sings that offers as a dark reprise of you will be okay, as Octavia sings about her resentment and heart break over her father betraying her trust, for LYING to her. She says she’ll never be the same now and fully accepts the fact that Stolas cares more about Blitz than her. And she then finds out that Stolas was taking anti-depressant pills, making her believe that she was just nothing but a burden, an obligation to Stolas this whole time.

If she wasn’t, why would he leave her without hesitation? It’s infuriating to me how the one time the show has good writting the fandom STILL makes insane arguments trying to defend Stolas.

Is Stolas allowed to form other relationships outside of Octavia? Yea, he is, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that Stolas was placing those new relationships above his old ones, he chose Blitz over Octavia, his daughter, his FAMILY.

”probably called her a million times” actually we saw him call once and Octavia was happy to answer until Stella wouldn’t let her, taking Octavia’s phone and mocking Stolas for trying to call her. Octavia doesn’t see the whole picture because SHE DOESNT HAVE THE WHOLE PICTURE! Stolas never communicated ANYTHING to her, not about what was going on between him and Stella, and not about his relationship with Blitz. Stolas didn’t give Octavia ANY information about what was going on and guess what? Seeing Stars and Sinmass show the exact consequences of that.

In Seeing Stars Octavia runs away to try and see the stars for herself because Stolas was focusing more on arguing with Stella than her, which leads Octavia to thinking that Stolas hates Stella more than he loves her, and she wouldn’t have started believing that IF STOLAS COMMUNICATED AND TOLD HER ABOUT THE ABUSE DURING OF THEIR MARRIAGE. Therefore she would be more understanding.

And in Sinmas, If Stolas ever explained to Octavia at any point in the show the full context of his relationship with Blitz, that would, at the very least, make Octavia understand his decision. Yet he never did. Octavia doesn’t have the full context for ANY of these situations because Stolas for SOME REASON never communicated to her.

And can people just fuck off with the whole “omg Octavia is such an immature/selfish teenager!” BECAUSE SHES NOT!! She’s not being a bratty, emotional teen for *checks notes* wanting attention from her father. Sinsmas is legitimately one of the best episodes of season 2 because it actually addresses Stolas acts as a father and calls him out for it, creating drama that doesn’t feel artificial for once and ends up being a step in the right direction for both Stolas AND Octavia as characters. But it’s sad to me that some people still miss blatantly obvious details like this.

Octavia is not a bratty teenager having a tantrum, she’s a girl that had her life turned upside down and is suffering through a divorce. I wish most of the fandom would actually see that.

[almondmilkcleanser]

when I made a little mess, he told me to clean my act up....

└ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 `

synopsis - your friends are seeing less and less of you and all you can give them as an excuse is that between school and Sukuna your schedule is filled to the brim. Is tonight going to be any different? pairing - ryomen Sukuna x reader

content -Daddy dom sUkuna listening to - positions x ariana grande minors do not interact a/n - happy holidays everyone <3

Ping!

Come out with us for drinks! Its been so long since weve seen you since you started dating this guy. Whats his name again?

Ping!

Oh come onnnn! This is like the third weekend in a row that youve bailed on us. Sewriously, who is this guy anyway?

Ping!

Y/nnnnn! We miss you! Why dont you tell your little boy toy that you cant sit on his lap this weekend and actually come out with us~~~ love you talk to you later!

Ping!

Are you okay? We’re worried. Whats really going on? Everytime we try to invite you out you say youre with this Sukuna guy. Seriously who is he? Ugh! Call me later. Love you bye!

Ping! Ping! Ping!

“Tsk. you dont need those kinds of friends anyway. Nothin’ but a bunch of jealous girls. Isn't that right, beautiful?” You wish you could reply, but you were stuffed - practically down to your rib cage - full of Sukuna. He crossed his flexed biceps behind his head, a smug expression slowly creeping across his face.

Aggressively pressing the lock button on your phone, he tossed it clear across the room. He read the plethora of messages between your friends, how they complained about their boyfriends/dates - both seemingly interchanged between each other in some, very odd, sort of fashion - and how they were going to form a man hating group. Just for you to turn around and meet Sukuna. Mean old Sukuna. Curse destroying Sukuna.

Sukuna, your Dom. Sukuna, your boyfriend.

Sukuna, the one training you to take his entire dick down your throat as your first lesson. 

He chose your hairstyle, two low ponytails that hung daintily down your back. He didn’t give a shit if you just got your hair done. He’ll pay to get it fixed once he’s done with you. He kept you pampered; your hair was done, nails were done, fresh pedicures, the works. So to hell with messing up a hairstyle, daddy Sukuna took care of it all.

The new choker he bought you complimented your skin tone perfectly. You always voiced your concerns on how the BDSM community never catered to darker skinned women as far as color selection, but he pulled the appropriate strings, so nothing on your beautiful brown skin looked washed out or ashy. The metal heart brightly polished - almost spit shined - and neatly rested on your throat. That pretty fucking throat that he had grown so acquainted it. 

He hmm’d to himself as he reminisced, his eyes never leaving your innocent face as you stared back at him. Your plush, glossed lips, encircled around his dick. As you swallowed him whole, he thought back to the first time you rode him.

 Your hips bouncing up and down at a hungered pace, his large hand wrapped around your neck, and his engorged dick french kissing your gripping walls, pulling him in deeper, deeper, deeper into the depths of your love nest to welcome his seed home.

Thank fuck for birth control. A mutual agreement between you two - but it was, in all honesty, the best thing you could have done.

His dark eyes flashed something so lustful, so salacious, that he almost sounded giddy upon sharing it with you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, Mmh, I have an idea.” your soft tongue flicked the pre-cum clean off the tip of his head, your eyes innocent and wanting. With your hands still wrapped around his dick, you continued to lick the head, your ears perked at his idea.

“Yes, daddy. What’s your idea.” Sukuna loved your obedience. If half of the idiots surrounding him on a day-to-day basis had half the brains and even a fraction of your pussy, then his days would go a lot smoother. But until then-

With an ever growing smile, he jerked his head to the side of him, making your eyes wander over his direction. In the corner was the suspension rig that he put together for play time. 

The metallic poles glinted brightly under your living room lights - they almost mocked you, ready to hoist you in the air for all of Sukuna to see and galore in his own self of triumph - its black lapels sturdy, strong, shining. For you. 

Sukuna read your eyes with triumph. Partial sadism and partial perversion intertwined themselves into one, forming at the root a creation that would sit-pretty in the back of his mind. Of course, you would look up at him, mouth stuffed with his girth, with such an harmless stare. You blinked - pleading almost - that his mind wasn’t affixed to the sight of you dangling there, helpless and pleading, pussy pretty, raspberry pink, and wanting to be split down the middle. 

“Remember what daddy talked about last weekend? How if you didn’t get that A in your organic chemistry class that we’d be setting up our next little toy?” In what world was that fucking contraption little?!

“Y-yes, Daddy.” you stopped giving him head to look deeper into his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his upper thighs. He traced your bottom lip and smirked. His sadistic eyes shimmering brightly.

“I saw how you tried to turn that ‘C’ into an A. So I logged into your school account.” his voice simmered a mixture of amber and sweet tobacco. But you and your pussy knew that he wasn't anywhere near pleased. He fed you his thumb, and like an obedient plaything you opened your mouth, letting him rest on your tongue. 

You suckled down, lapping your tongue around it, taking in the hints of your own juices from this morning’s requested “stuffing session”. You were a greedy little thing. Begging him for one finger, then two, all four, and finally his thumb. Your mind was still recalibrating from that orgasm even to this second.

“Baby, tsss, why did you lie to me?” he used his other hand to tiptop to one ponytail, then the other. Holding both in his hand, he tugged gently. You had no reason outside of being a brat. You hated organic chemistry. The teacher didn’t offer extra credit. And Sukuna, as hungrily devilish he was, he didn’t fuck around when it came to your education. You still remember how many times he edged you because you forgot to turn in a huge presentation for your English class. You already had an A in the class! But Daddy didn’t care. 

You held his wrist with both of your hands, putting extra care into teasing his thumb. Taking it a step further, you nudged his hand to welcome two more of his fingers. You could taste yourself. A specially formulated nectar that practically oozed from your pussy, all dried up on his fingers. He knew what you were trying to do. But by fucking God did he enjoy falling for it.

He pulled on your ponytails, popping his mouth off of his hands and upwards at him. 

“Sweetie, I asked a question. Why did you lie about your grades?” He took those same two fingers in his mouth and purposely slobbered on them. He scooted off the chair, his torso still towering over yours, and repositioned himself on his knees in front of you. He snaked his hand behind you and popped those same two fingers in your slicked opening. You welcomed him cheerfully, making him tsss at the sudden wave of wet warmth sucking him in.

He had to keep his composure. He had to keep his vices in tack. Otherwise he would turn you around and fucking throttle you for hours.

“Speak, Y/N.” he growled.

“B-because I didn’t want you to be mad, Suna~” you clenched your teeth, swallowing down a moan. “I fell asleep studying and didn’t remember half of what was on the test. But I won’t do it again- ah- I p-p-promise.” Sukuna stuffed you with a third finger but refused to move. He shook his head disapprovingly.

“Tsk tsk tsk. All you had to do was tell me the truth. But now-” the pressure of his thumb as it pressed against your asshole sent shivers across your body. 

“We’re going to have some fun.”

✥✥✥

“Mmmm… look at that pussy.” Sukuna took a few steps to admire his work. You were dangling in midair, your ankles held up by two suspension straps and your arms held behind your back by another set of suspension straps. Your body lazily rocked back and forth in midair, everything exposed to Sukuna. 

“And you were protesting this idea so much, Y/N.” Sukuna snorted, bunching all the straps in his hand to rock you back to him. “Look how wet she is,” with one finger, he scooped the inside of your pussy, whistling in wondrous regard at how sticky you were. “She’s fucking ready, princess. Are you?”

Your body was hot. You’ve never been this exposed by anyone in your life! If your friends were to get a glimpse of you - Ms. high-strung, always punctual, studious and practically perfect - strung up like a holiday ham about to get the shit fucked out of you, what would they say?

Sukuna pulled the holsters back, guiding his thick dick into your slicked entrance with precision. He growled aloud, seeing you so helpless as he stretched you open sparked something carnal inside of him. His pretty pillow princess, hanging in the air, submissive and so fucking sexy. All for him.

All for me

Slap! He moved his hips back and forth. Palming your beautiful ass, slapping each cheek as you rocked back and forth. Swallowing him whole.

All for fucking me.

Your pussy gripped around him, making him moan aloud. “F-fuck, baby. Your pussy isn’t letting up today. She’s a g-good girl~ she’s a good fucking girl~” he slapped your ass again, upping the pace. He gripped the holsters so you’d stay in place as he slammed into you. He made your pussy his home, claiming each available space as his. Your sloshed insides coated his dick with an opaque film that glistened every inch of him from tip to base, even dripping down his balls. 

“S-s-suna-a-a-a~” Your pitched whines fed him. He fucked you harder, and harder, and harder. Your slutty pussy let him in each and every time. Its warmth enveloping his massive girth and nestling him home. With a grit of his teeth, he tried his damnedest not to cum, but you were just-

“Dammit, she’s so fucking good baby. Your pussy l-loves this”

“‘Ts so fucking tight.” He spit on his thumb, guiding it in your forbidden hole. “Sucha nasty fucking girl.” He pulled himself out of you to admire you. Your open pussy, slicked, wanting, welcoming. “Does daddy’s girl want to come?” He licked two fingers and pressed them on your clit. The electric shocks sending your back into an arch and your moans into a frenzy.

“Hm? I don’t think i hear you, doll~” he slapped your clit with those same two fingers, chuckling under his breath. Your eyes caught a flashing light in the corner of the room. It was your phone. Your friends were calling you again.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” his hand wrapped around your neck. He smiled into your neck, biting playfully on your shoulder. “Looks like others want your attention as much as I do.” He guided himself back into you. Your quivering pussy clenching down, refusing to let him go. 

“How’s about this-” he kissed your cheek. “You give me a good orgasm and I’ll let you go. And you can go make up lost time with your friends. Sounds good?” he didn’t really wait for an answer. Instead, he stood back up, grabbed your hips, and proceeded to pound into you.

“F-fuck! You like this, huh, sweetheart?” You did. You fucking did. Being so vulnerable and open to him from all angles drove you fucking insane. Your body rocked back and forth as his hips met your ass. The ripples of your ass sending Sukuna in a daze. He loved watching your almond-coated body glazed with sweat. You needed this fucking more than you admitted. And he was more than happy to give it to you.

His thrusts increased in force. So much that he had to cinch onto your hips so you wouldn’t fly forward. But Daddy Sukuna knew you. He knew you would take it. With a fucking smile. Your moans escalated to a near animalistic pitch. He loved seeing you let loose. To hear you curse, whine, and groan your frustrations made him proud to be yours. To be your release. To be-

“My pretty fucking girl. Taking all of this dick for daddy, huh? Fucking come on me, princess.”

“That’s-” stroke “An-” stroke “Order.”

Your hips buckled as he pushed forward, kissing the end of your cervix. You felt his fluid coating your walls, glistening each surface area of you with his cream. Even when you were stuffed, droplets of his cum littered the floor, streaked down your thighs, and pooled underneath you.

“Suna~” you whined, “These are going to stain my stockings, again.” he responded by kissing your shoulder again. 

“I’ll just buy you another pair, doll. ‘Ts nothin’ when I get to see your pretty face like this.” and then, another devilish idea sparked in his head. He held the holsters again, turning you around to face his pelvis.

“How’s about one more round. And then you can tell your friends to meet you wherever you decide. My treat~” 

As you looked up at him, his dick jumped to life again. Both sides equally veiny, moistened, and waiting for your plush lips to wrap around them.

You didn’t say anything, all you did was smirk and latch your soft tongue around the base.

“Nnh-” Sukuna squeezed the holsters. “Good girl.’

“Good fucking girl.”

END.

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[toastling]

Maybe this is just me. But. When you step back and look at the last 20 years, isn't it a bit weird what, specifically, is still being censored, vs what isn't? It used to be that even in Saturday morning action cartoons based off superhero comics, like Superman TAS, you often couldn't show the specific frame of, say, a fist impacting someone in a fight. Now, this improved over time, but if you really pay attention, you'll notice a lot of the time instead of actually seeing an impact there's a white flash that conveys said impact without actually showing it.

The fear among censors was that any violence that could easily be replicated by kids wasn't safe to show, and gun violence also got thrown in there since so many American families own guns. Incidentally, the DCAU is one of the biggest reasons this changed over time, but it stood for decades regardless. The kind of violence you saw in Tom & Jerry and the kind of violence you see today wouldn't have flown in the 90s and 00s.

Similarly, there were certain things you just couldn't really animate for kids and families when it came to things like body horror or outright cruelty that involved bodily trauma. There were times and places, genres, where it was a little bit more acceptable and you had more leeway - gross-out humor has always been a thing and has allowed more freedom in form and disgust, and horror media, even when aimed at a younger audience, is allowed to get away with more because it is an inherent aspect of the genre by nature - but you usually wouldn't go into something like Spongebob expecting something truly gruesome or horrific to look at.

When body horror did occur outside of its native environments, it was always toned down or humorous in some way. Think pulling off a face but you just see a skull or some messed up computer parts, or the OG Spongebob Halloween episode where he gets shaved down to a brain and a nose. It was gross, but it wasn't quite horrific, because firstly it wouldn't really serve the intended purpose of comedy, but also because censorship about that sort of thing was a lot more strict, it was categorized under violence.

Meanwhile today you have episodes where Spongebob's face skin is peeled off to reveal the highly detailed musculature underneath in an image that is not in any way humorous, or Squidward's toenail trauma depicted in a way that is not disgusting for the sake of humor but gratuitous and horrific for its own sake, and nobody bats an eye. Not the kids watching, not the Christian adults, and certainly not the censors.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing! I have a low tolerance for body horror in general which is why I chose it as the topic here, but I can just. Not watch. Evidently times have changed and these sorts of things aren't as off-putting for newer generations, or maybe I'm just especially susceptible to it. I don't think it's inherently bad if the world moves on without me and I end up left behind in some aspects, that's part and parcel with progress, and all things considered, it's probably a good thing that censors aren't so up their own ass about this stuff anymore. It allows for more freedom, and not everybody's going to jump to the extremest of extremes now that they have it.

But when you step back and look at how censorship has loosened over the years with regards to violence, body horror, sexual innuendo, themes and topics... you ever notice that anything even remotely queer hasn't received that same sort of grace? If anything it feels like it's gotten even tighter restrictions, if only because it's so front and center in the cultural conversation these days, and the public is more okay with it than the censors are. But any mention of queerness, especially transgender queerness, and suddenly the Comics Code Authority is very real again and your show is poised to lose a sizable chunk of Christian and/or Conservative viewers.

Nobody cares anymore if Spongebob is dissected on screen with unnecessarily detailed human-like anatomy showing all his muscles and ligaments and various blood vessels, that's just health class. So it wouldn't have flown back in 1995, who cares? But god forbid you have a story that treats a transgirl like she's a human being! Oh no, no, no! That's not appropriate for children. That's not appropriate for anyone! And even with homosexuality - yeah, we get our gay couples now and then, but you ever notice how a lot of them are either at the very very end, or when they aren't, suddenly that show ends up cancelled early or facing production or promotional issues for some strange and definitely unrelated reason?

Violence is okay. Even sex is becoming more okay than it used to be. Being queer still isn't, though. We still get censored into the dirt.

It's been incredibly surreal watching it gradually unfold these past 10 or 15 years. The more things change, the more they stay the same. And it always goes on to reveal the inherent biases and flaws with the idea of censorship in the first place.

Maybe it's time we stop trying to classify media as being strictly for any one demographic, to stop censoring any content whatsoever in its entirety no matter who the "target audience" is, and force parents to actually do their job and vet what their kids watch themselves. Maybe we shouldn't leave it to some old white business major to decide what is or isn't suitable for who, as if they are the only thing standing between the human race and moral annihilation. Maybe people should just make up their own minds on what is or isn't okay instead of having it dictated to them by someone else. Maybe.

That video of Alex Hirsch reading S&P notes for Gravity Falls conveys a few things to me:

1) the U.S. entertainment industry (especially animation) is run by older conservative types who make up offensive terms and get really mad about them.

2) the people who run Disney would be the first to fall in line with a fascist regime.

3) most of the media we consume is tailor-made and watered-down to appeal to the tastes of older, deeply religious conservative audiences.

4) conservatism, not the left, is and always has been the biggest voice of censorship in American culture.