#so it's bad decisions in name of self care day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

celestie0 · 6 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

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

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

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

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

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

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

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

➸ masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

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

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

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

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for no flirting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Bros.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly.

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels like throwing up.

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

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

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

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

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

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

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think about fucking you all the time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10:34am you: do it then

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

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

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

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

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

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

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

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

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

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

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

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

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—” He stops himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[the end]

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

➸ masterlist

taglist:

@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

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

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

@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy

@haikomaiko @tbzzluvr @myahfig4 @arabelluhhh4200 @bloopsstuff

@nat-the-gayass-down-bad-mf @badbclub @blackunecorn @geniejunn @n0tviv

@verystrawberryhottub @iheartshopping @peonysfordayz @dreamsxmerci @aishies-stuff

@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

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poppyseed799 · 8 months ago

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I have this problem that’s like the opposite of nostalgia or something where some things I remember liking a lot as a child I look back and only remember the bad times.

This is specifically about Animal Crossing, loved that game as a kid, but I have literally no idea why, cuz it was just pure hell for me from what I can remember.

#also blues clues but less severe. I like blues clues. but my only childhood memories are when I was scared of it #YES I WAS SCARED OF BLUES CLUES. I HAD A HUGE FEAR OF MYSTERIES. IDK HOW OR WHY. ALSO MY MEGALOPHOBIA DIDNT LIKE THE CLOSE UP PAWPRINTS #the Halloween episode also scared me on several occasions. yes I was a baby. still kind of am.#but like I still have positive feelings about blues clues but ANIMAL CROSSING. ohhh man.#first of all that megalophobia I mentioned uh yeah not a big fan of seeing those big fish.#I was terrified of the rumor that you could see a GINORMOUS fish in the ocean. and I’ve been hearing it was REAL? worst thing ever.#but like. I couldn’t even take care of my irl self so you KNOW my village was totally trashed.#so I had to play while constantly getting told ‘everyone HATES living in this town’ and trying my best to fix it but it’s out of control and #I can’t bring myself to clean (I did it once. it was the happiest I’d been finally getting told positive things.)#my house always full of roaches too lol foreshadowing my life as an adult #ALSO THOSE FREAKING DANGEROUS BUGS WOULD GET ME ALL THE TIME I was always playing at night and getting terrified #I never had a ‘favorite villager’ in the traditional sense cuz none of them ever stayed long. they hated my town.#my fave was actually stitches but I never saw him. maybe I saw him once and he IMMEDIATELY moved out. that was my life.#I can’t name a single villager I ever had in my village cuz they always moved out. I learned not to form attachments even tho I wanted to.#and don’t even get me STARTED on Resetti. if you are a Resetti lover then WE ARE NOT MEANT TO INTERACT 😭#I’m joking I won’t judge you as a person if you like him but at the same time I genuinely on god hate him #opening up the game was a nightmare cuz I knew without fail every time I would have to see him.#‘just save’? it wasn’t ever ME that was doing it. it was my little siblings. and NO I couldn’t stop them. they were like GODS at stealing #not to mention parents would always side with them and make us share the games. they liked to delete saves and were gods at that too #but anyways so I was always stuck with Resetti cuz my siblings couldn’t leave my game alone and also couldn’t bring themselves to save befor #stopping. so every day it would be Resetti. I dreaded it so much because he is like SUPER reminiscent of my abusive step father at the time.#I often cried while just desperately trying to get thru his lectures. they were SO. LONG. and OH MY GOD the time he made me repeat something #I legitimately don’t know what it was but like I kept failing it. I know I was rlly bad with copying things as a kid #there was a time where I made the painful decision to quit in the middle of his rant. knowing that it would be worse next time but I was #simply unable to take it at that point in time. HOW EFFED UP IS THAT. THAT I JUST WANT TO PLAY A DAMN GAME BUT I CANT CUZ OF THE TRAUMA.#I hate Resetti I hate Resetti I hate him so much ‘oh he’s just a character’ THATS WHY IM FREE TO HATE HIM BABY!!! IT MAKES IT WORSE THAT PPL #DELIBERATELY CREATED A CHARACTER LIKE THAT HONESTLY! WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT TO POOR INNOCENT ME!!!#anyways yeah literally everything about animal crossing is so distressing to me and yet I remember loving it. no idea why.#my memories of it have like a dramatic and eerie vignette #and that newer one that came out and everyone was so excited. I can’t handle it cuz of the FISH AGAIN!!! MEGALOPHOBIA BE LIKE!!!!!!!

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jintaka-hane · 3 months ago

Text

Sit Down

Masterlist

Summary: Ben Beckman carries too much on his shoulders. The situation on board is a mess, and the weight of the stress is making it harder for him to sleep at night. As your first mate and friend, it pains you to see him so exhausted. So, when things become unbearable, you offer a drastic solution—something he’ll hesitantly end up accepting. Word count: 4900 Notes: MDNI, + 18, NSFW, xf!reader, smut, oral (Beck receiving), fingering (f!reader receiving), friends to lovers, let me take care of you thing, fluffy end, needy Beck, a lot of pet names used (darlin', doll, princess, pretty) Self indulgent? This? Nah Warning: All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

Clink-Crassssh!!

The coffee pot shattered against the wooden floor, sending shards of glass and splashes of coffee flying across the mess hall.

You jolted at the noise, nearly losing your balance on the stool, and after exchanging puzzled glances with Roux and Hongo, you turned your heads to find the source of the crash.

Before you stood the sad figure of Benn Beckman crouched on the floor, muttering curses as his trembling hands hurried to clean up the mess. His hair was more disheveled than usual, his lips pressed into a tight line beneath an untrimmed beard, and his usually bright eyes seemed dull, framed by deep, dark shadows.

He looked so exhausted, it was painful to see.

"Becks?" You immediately set your drink down and stood up from your seat, rushing to help him.

“Ain’t gotta, darlin'...” he said in a rough, worn-out voice. "I got this."

With a frown, you ignored what he said and grabbed a clean rag, kneeling beside him and soaking it in the spilled coffee. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his fingers clumsily gather pieces of the shattered pot, his movements so slow and unsteady that you worried he might hurt himself. You tried to push the glass shards away from his hands, but when he stubbornly kept picking them up, you placed your hand over his.

"Becks, Stop. I’ll handle it..."

"No," the bulky man muttered, giving a small tug to free his hand in such a rushed and clumsy way that it struck the edge of a sharp shard, causing him to wince as his skin split open with a jagged cut.

"Becks!" You grabbed his wrist firmly. "Would you just stop?!"

Beckman sighed heavily and, for once, complied. As blood began to bead along the cut, Hongo rushed to assist him, crouching down to help you lift him to his feet.

“It’s not bad,” the doctor said, focusing on the wound and pressing gently around the edges to ensure no glass remained. “Just needs cleaning and a bandage.”

"I got it," you said immediately.

Hongo raised an eyebrow at your quick response and ran a hand over his shaved neck to asses the situation.

For once, someone from the crew was offering to help, and he wouldn’t be the one to refuse. He gave you a short nod, and that gesture was all you needed to grab the big, wall-of-a-man first mate by the arm, and practically drag him out of the mess hall, marching down the corridor as he grumbled the whole way.

“Darlin’, I’ve got plenty of things to do…”

You grunted. Of course he had things to do. He always had things to do. And that was exactly the problem.

"... and if you're taking me to bed," he continued stubbornly, "it's not gonna work..."

You huffed and without replying, kept striding down the corridor, your fingers digging into his forearm like claws.

We'll see about that …

**********

You weren't exactly having the best time on the Red Force.

The captain was confined to his cabin, bedridden and unable to make decisions. He had caught something nasty on the last island and was under strict orders to rest, spending his days grumbling and complaining like the terrible patient he was.

Roux and Hongo weren’t faring much better. With food and medical supplies running dangerously low, the cook was growing increasingly dramatic, threatening to serve boiled underwear soup, while the doctor prowled the ship’s corners, muttering to everyone that he’d soon be operating without anesthesia.

The ship herself was in no condition to help. The sails were in desperate need of patching, the masts needed reinforcement, and the cannons kept jamming at the worst moments. And to make matters worse, you were trapped in a dead calm. With the ship completely immobilized in the open sea, resupplying or seeking help was impossible, and the weather forecast offered no hope of change anytime soon.

Everything was a mess and completely out of control. And naturally, all the responsibility, worry, and pressure landed squarely on the shoulders of the ever-capable and vigilant co-captain. But the weight of it all was beginning to take its toll.

His body rebelled, depriving him of the restorative sleep he so desperately needed. And with each passing night, the insomnia only worsened, making the once steadfast first mate slowly turn into a tired, miserable shadow of his former self.

**********

"Go in," you said, opening the door to Beckman’s cabin and giving the sturdy man a gentle nudge on his back.

The moment you stepped inside, a sharp smell of tobacco assaulted your nose, and your eyes darted around the room, quickly taking in its disheveled, sorry state.

The bed was unmade, with rumpled sheets and clothes scattered across the mattress. In front of a worn, cushioned armchair, his desk looked disheveled, cluttered with a mountain of papers, maps and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. On the nightstand, a half-empty glass of whiskey sat next to a small box of sleeping pills.

A sigh slipped from your lips. You’d always heard that a person’s cabin was a window into their mind, and the sight before you was more revealing than any words could be.

Your attention shifted back to Beckman, who stood frozen in the center of the room, his injured hand raised and curled into a fist.

"Sit down," you commanded, stepping closer and looking up at him, your voice steady as you motioned toward the armchair.

Beckman opened his mouth to protest, but before he could articulate a word you placed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back and guiding him toward the chair.

"Sit down," you repeated in the most authoritative tone you could muster.

Becks chuckled but complied, sinking into the cushioned armchair with his full weight.

“Bandages and antiseptic?” You crouched down to meet his eye level, a finger raised in a questioning gesture.

“Top drawer,” he grumbled.

Without another word, you turned to the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer. Your fingers brushed past rolling papers, lighters, and razor blades before finally finding alcohol and some bandages. Supplies in hand, you perched sideways on the armrest of his chair, extending your hand to take his.

The bulky man allowed you to tend to his wound, remaining silent as you carefully cleaned the bleeding cut, his drowsy eyes following every move of your delicate fingers. He couldn’t help but notice how small and soft your hands looked against the roughness of his calloused skin.

"Becks..." your voice came out like a sigh. "You can't keep going like this. You need to sleep."

His fingers didn’t flinch as you applied the alcohol to disinfect the wound.

"I know, darlin’," he said quietly, his gaze now fixed on your face as your brows furrowed in concentration while you cut the bandage. "And I’m tryin’, but—"

"It’s too much stress and weight on your shoulders, I know..." You carefully wrapped the bandage around his hand, tracing small circles in the air.

You liked that grumpy, big-hearted first mate more than you were willing to admit. He was your friend, your confidant, your favorite person on the crew. You wanted to help him. And after all the traditional remedies your crewmates had tried had failed miserably, your mind had begun drifting toward more... drastic options.

Benn Beckman was a reserved man. But despite his discretion, you knew he had his needs. Whenever you reached port, you knew he sought comfort in the arms of willing, affectionate women, eager to spend a few hours in his company. You’d seen him share drinks with them, whispering who-knows-what in their ears while they sat on his lap, hands sensually tracing the lines of his chest in some secluded corner of the tavern.

And every time you saw him the next morning, a cigarette between his lips, that casual smile of his, and a trail of bruises on his neck disappearing into his shirt, something twisted in your gut.

Something you couldn’t quite define.

Maybe it was curiosity… curiosity about what he did with them all night, tangled in the sheets of an inn bed.

But it had been weeks since you’d seen the first mate blow off any steam. With no wind to fill the sails, the ship had no chance of docking at any nearby port, leaving everyone deprived of the opportunity to unwind and relax with some good company on the shore.

So one idea had started to form in your mind.

At first, you had dismissed it, thinking it was crazy and inappropriate. But as you watched Beckman worsen day by day, you reconsidered, concluding that it might be exactly what he needed to forget for a moment the weight of his responsibilities and, hopefully, get the rest he so desperately needed.

The only problem? Suggesting the idea felt harder than carrying out the remedy itself.

“You’re lost in thought…” His rough voice pulled you back, his hand gently holding yours after you finished tying off the bandage. His thumb moved in slow circles over your wrist as he looked at you with gratitude.

You cleared your throat and stood up, pulling your hand away from his to return the first-aid kit to the nightstand drawer. His gaze weighed on your back, and just before closing the drawer, you clenched your eyes shut, taking a deep breath before deciding to take the plunge.

“I think I can help you,” you said.

A low chuckle sounded behind you, laced with disbelief rather than malice.

"Darlin’," he said, rubbing his eyes, "Hongo's tried everything. He even gave me pills to—"

“I can give you something Hongo hasn’t,” you cut him off, your voice coming out more confident than you’d imagined it would when you’d rehearsed the words in your head. When you turned to face him, though, you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“And what’s that?” He stopped massaging his eyes, revealing his tired gaze again as he looked at you.

“My mouth.”

The two words hung in the air, finally freed after days of being locked in your mind.

Beckman stayed silent, his gray eyes locked with yours. With your heart in your throat, you approached the armchair and placed a hand on each armrest, leaning your torso toward the wordless man. He lifted his chin to look at you, and you tried to remain stoic and unwavering, holding his gaze as his eyes flickered between yours, studying your features as if he were trying to see beyond your skin.

"Doll," he finally said, his voice deep and soft. "If you're implying what I think..."

"I am."

His lips twitched into a wry grin.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." Your fingers unconsciously dug into the fabric of the armrest.

His smile faded, and this time, his gaze held an animal-like intensity. Frowning, and with his lips pressed tightly together, he seemed to be trying to control an internal battle raging inside him.

"No," he finally said, his chin still lifted so he could look you straight in the eye.

His refusal struck you like a bucket of cold water, though, in some way, you knew that’s exactly what he would say. He always treated you with a respect and care befitting a goddess, and making you lower yourself to the dirt in such a worldly way would probably be unthinkable for him.

“Becks,” you sighed softly, removing one of your hands from the armrest to trail it up to his stubbled chin. “You’re barely on your feet. We’re all worried about you…”

Beckman closed his eyes at the feel of your touch, his chin leaning into your hand as he allowed himself a moment of rest.

“I can help you if you let me…” you continued, “We’re adults, it’d be an agreement between the two of us… an agreement between… friends.”

His jaw tensed in your hand.

“As flattered as I am that someone like you would be offerin’ somethin’ like that to a guy like me," he said, "my answer’s still no."

This time his refusal genuinely hurted you. You pulled your hand away, and his tired eyes opened again, disoriented without your touch.

"Your stubbornness is reckless," you tried to sound composed, but the pain in your voice betrayed you. "You can't work like this. A-a crew without a first mate at his best is a crew in danger. We all need you, Beck... I-I..." Your lips trembled nervously as you spoke, "I need you."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit your lip. The last thing you wanted was to add even more weight to the already burdened first mate, and that was exactly what you'd just done.

Embarrassed, you straightened up and began to turn away to leave, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist firmly and pulling you back toward him, spreading his legs to make space for your body to move closer to his.

"Girl," he said in a rough voice, locking his eyes with yours in a way that sent a spark flickering in the pit of your stomach. He frowned, and for a moment, you thought he was going to scold you. But his expression quickly softened. "You can back out anytime. Got it?"

You nodded, and before you realized it, his hands were around your waist, lifting your shirt and exposing the skin of your abdomen. He pressed his nose playfully against your navel, and his fingers traced the waistband of your pants.

“Becks,” you giggled as the ticklish sensation sent goosebumps racing across your body. “What are you doing?”

“I never let my partner pleasure me without takin’ care of her first,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face further into your belly.

Oh.

Of course.

Benn Beckman, competent first mate and finest gentleman.

Smiling, you placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his gaze back to yours. As tempting as the situation was, you weren’t going to let him take this turn. You were here to help him, not the other way around.

"Becks, stop... you don’t have to. I’m not asking for anything in return, understand?"

He looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist. From the expression on his face, you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

"Besides," you added, trying to find something that would make him relent, "if that ever happens, I deserve it to be with all your strength. Not like the tired wreck you are right now."

A raspy laugh rumbled in his chest, and you smiled. How you loved that rough, husky laugh.

"Alright, Darlin’," he said, still chuckling.

Your smile lingered as you slowly lowered yourself to kneel between his legs, never breaking eye contact with him. Before your knees could touch the floor, he leaned over to the bed, snatching up his pillow and placing it on the floor beneath you.

"Here," he said, "don’t go hurtin’ those pretty knees of yours."

Why was he always like this? You thought as you made yourself comfortable on the pillow, placing your hands gently on his thighs for support. "Thank you".

Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge at his crotch, and without thinking, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. Beckman’s jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a rare display of vulnerability for a man with his reputation.

“Hey, big guy,” you gave his thigh a comforting squeeze, "it’s just me. Relax, okay? Just let yourself go…”

The tent in his pants seemed to complain within its prison, and you didn’t want to make him wait any longer. Slidding your hands down his knees, you spread his legs just enough to create space for your head.

"Who’s undoing the belt?" you asked tilting your head and looking up at him from beneath your long doe-eyed lashes.

"You." His tone struck you as the same one he used when handing out tasks on deck.

Your hands gripped the buckle of his belt and unfastened it, your fingers decisively pulling aside the layers of fabric that stood between you, lowering the waistband of his pants and finally freeing his painfully swollen cock.

Benn Beckman was a big man. And his dick matched him well. With a large, pinkish-red head and a prominent vein running up and down a thick shaft. Your mouth watered at the sight, lips parted as you took a moment to prepare yourself.

"Darlin’,” Beckman said, taking the moment of silence as doubt on your part, “you can back out if—Hah~"

His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you captured his swollen, mushroomed knob between your eager lips.

His taste was salty and strong in your mouth.

You, on the other hand, felt incredibly sweet on his cock.

Opening your mouth as wide as your jaw would allow, you slowly took him in, giving yourself a moment to breathe and adjust to him. You swallowed gradually more of his cock, eyes closed in concentration, hands anchored on his base for support, until you managed about two-thirds of his length.

He held his breath above you. His abdomen tightened with restraint when you looked up at him, your tongue pressing against the pulsing vein on his shaft, feeling the wild rush of blood running through it. Then his hand cupped your cheek, his lips curling into a smile as he traced with his thumb his own bulge inside you.

With your cheeks flushed by that smile, you began applying more pressure with your lips, rising back up to his large head, giving it a quick lick before taking him all the way down again.

"That's it... “ he sighed.

His hand slid to the nape of your neck, his fingers brushing your hair aside with care before settling there. You continued bobbing your head against his cock, making him groan with your upward and downward movements, trying to take as much of him as you could.

“Yeah, nice and slow princess…, just like that," he whispered, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin.

Encouraged by his sweet gesture, you decided to use your hands as well. One moved carefully up and down his hard cock, while the other dared to venture deeper into his pants. His balls felt heavy and tight between your fingers. The balls of a man who hadn’t known a partner' s warmth in a long time.

"So, so good, princess," the bulky man praised breathlessly, his eyes full of devotion as he watched your head bob sweetly between his legs.

His length twitched inside your mouth and you tasted a salty drop of precum as you ran your tongue through his slit. You smiled proudly on his cock, continuing to suck and bob, feeling sparks ignite between your thighs as your own arousal began to smolder in your core.

“Look at you... hah… so perfect… and takin’ me so damn well,” he groaned, his voice a little deeper and raspier than usual.

His sweet praises, coupled with the slow, sensual glide of his fingers along the nape of your neck, sent a sharp jolt of desire coursing through you. Your mouth continued working up and down his shaft, increasing the pressure and speed as you felt the weight of his darkened, dilated pupils staring at you.

“Princess, open your shirt for me," he uttered with an unsteady breath.

Arching your brow, you looked at him, holding his gaze with an alluring intensity as you slowly obeyed. Your fingers fumbled with your buttons as you undid them slowly, one by one. As soon as you finished, he tugged your shirt down, baring one of your shoulders.

“So goddamn beautiful…” he whispered, the back of his fingers grazing your soft, vulnerable skin, tracing an invisible line from your collarbone to the curve of your cleavage.

His touch sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you frowned, fighting to control the raw, insistent desire building between your thighs. You continued to sweetly embrace his cock with your swollen lips, sucking him hard up and down, focused on how with each movement, his breaths grew more and more uneven.

"Ah~” he tilted his head back, his fingers pressing more tightly into the back of your neck, drawing your head closer to his crotch. "Let's go deeper, a'right, Doll? Show me what that pretty throat can do…"

You nodded obediently, exhaling through your nose as you took his cock further, slowly swallowing his entire length inch by inch.

“That’s it, such a good girl…” He praised you as his hands gently grabbed your head to guide you deeper into him.

His sweet words pushed you to swallow more than your throat could handle, and when his blunt head hit the back of your mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from choking.

"Hey, n-no," He huskily chastised you, giving you a little tap on the nose. Though he couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes and rolling them back. "No gagging, okay? Good girls don’t gag”.

You nodded again, knitting your brows together in concentration, and let him guide you to take the rest of his cock.

“That’s it… breathe and relax for me, okay?”

You had to squeeze your eyes shut as the large tip pressed against your uvula, but once you managed the last few inches, you smiled proudly on his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed at you, letting out a heavy sigh, unable to avoid twitching over your tongue. “I knew you could take all of me…”

You continued moving your head, up and down, then down and up, always watching his reactions and listening to his breath to match the right pace. His throbs inside you became more frequent and desperate, and you began to fantasize about how his massive cock would stretch you to your limit.

The thought did little to ease the growing, unbearable thirst inside you. The damp fabric of your underwear clung uncomfortably to your swollen folds, and you pressed your thighs together, seeking any form of relief.

Burning with desire, you increased the pace. Obscene sucking sounds filled the air as you worked your way up to his thick tip, repeating the process over and over again, making him grunt and curse above you in his frantic fight not to cum.

“G-good j-… -ahh such a pretty good girl…” he had to shut his eyes and scrunch his brow to handle all the pleasure flooding him. “I’m so close, princess... gonna keep bein’ a good girl for me and not let me make a mess on the floor?"

You don’t remember giving him an answer, but you do remember how your swollen pussy throbbed between your legs at his question.

You desperately wanted to touch you.

You desperately wanted him to touch you.

And your prayers were answered.

As you whimpered in frustration, you felt Beckman's large hand slip into your pants and slide under your underwear.

“Shh, I got you…,” he soothed in that deep voice of his, his expert fingers parting your labia and pulling up the hood of your clit, circling your perfect spot with astonishing ease. “Go on, princess.”

Gripping his hand you grounded your pelvis against it, desperately begging him to keep on those sweet circles that were taking you so quickly to the edge. He indulged, and in less than 30 seconds, he had you whimpering and mewling against his cock, eyes rolling and toes curling as you shoved his thick fingers into your clenching pussy.

Your pace bobbing your head decreased during your high, but the force increased. You hollowed your cheeks, raking him down with your mouth with so much fervor, that you had not yet come down from the crest of your orgasm when you felt his hands roughly grab your hair in firm handfuls, his cock throbbing against your palate and filling the bottom of your throat with his thick, salty load.

“Fuck, princess, sweetheart, -ngah!, you’re too good, too much -so goddamn perfect,” Beckman moaned out a stream of mindless praises while he shoved his cock deeper into your mouth, emptying himself so hard and so deep in your throat that you gagged on his knob again. Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, but you continued bobbing your head against him, feeling his hand rest on your throat as if he wanted to feel your windpipe shift with each swallow of his overwhelming stream of cum.

Panting, and sweating, with your hair tousled and your cheeks flushed, you felt the last of his spend spill into your mouth. You pulled away from him, lifting your eyes and finding him as breathless and damp as you.

He smiled, and his hand ran through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure. But as he leaned toward you and his fingers grazed your cheek, his smile disappeared.

"Oh, Darlin’... No..." His voice cracked, his eyes following the tears as they slipped down your cheeks. “Forgive me... I’ve made you cry.”

His large hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly and settling you onto his lap.

“Damn, I’m such a fucking brute…” he said, drawing you close against his chest.

“It’s alright, Becks,” you whispered as you pulled your face away, but his hand drew you closer once more.

His lips brushed softly against your cheeks, catching each tear with tender, almost apologetic kisses. You let out a soft laugh, turning your head slowly to allow him more access, and in doing so, your noses brushed together. Your eyes fluttered shut, and in that brief, unspoken moment, his lips found yours.

The kiss was slow, softer than you’d ever expected from that grumbling, broad-shouldered first mate. He had the calm and patience of someone who had waited for this moment for a long time, savoring every second as if your lips were a long-lost treasure. Sighing into the kiss, you allowing yourself to be carried away by the sweet, unhurried motion of his chin.

When you pulled back, your fingers brushed lightly against his cheek before your gaze met his deep gray eyes once again. They held something intense, familiar yet impossible to name.

A look he reserved only for you.

A look that was now hungrier than ever, as if he were staring at something that had always belonged to him.

“And?” you asked, straightening your back and raising an eyebrow.

“And?” he mimicked you, a smile grazing his lips as he looked lovingly at you. “Darlin’, you were… you are gorgeous.”

“No,” you giggled, your cheeks flushing as you gave him a light, teasing tap on his chest. “I meant if you can sleep now.”

“Ah, right… okay,” he frowned and cleared his throat. “The truth is… yeah, I think I can sleep now.”

With a genuine smile, you nodded and gave him another light tap on his chest. As you moved to stand, his large hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you firmly back into his embrace.

“Stay with me…” he whispered, his forehead coming to rest softly against yours.

“I can’t, Becks. I’ve got work to do,” you lovingly brushed your fingers along his stubbled chin.

“No, you don’t…”

“Yes, I do,” you teased, crossing your arms playfuly over your chest. “And if I don’t, my first mate is gonna punish me.”

He lifted his forehead from yours.

"Oh, I see. That first mate of yours must be really mean."

“The meanest,” you leaned in, your voice low and almost conspiratorial.

He hummed in amusement.

“Is he?”

"You have no idea."

Clearly enjoying having you so close again, he tilted his chin towards you, grinning as he caught the way your eyes darted to his lips. But when you leaned away out of his reach once more, his smile faded.

"Maybe he's just a man," he said, his voice rough and barely a whisper, "who believes he doesn't deserve what he truly wants."

Your eyes darted between his. “And what is that?”

He cupped your cheek and his thumb traced slowly the line of your jaw.

"Stay with me, and I’ll tell you in the morning."

A smile played at the corner of your mouth as you closed your eyes, sighing before slowly nodding to him.

Before you could even catch your breath, he had you in his arms, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the bed.

The clothes scattered across the mattress were brushed aside as he gently laid you down, quickly straightening the wrinkled sheets to make sure you were comfortable. Smiling, he tossed his shirt aside and lay down behind you, drawing a giggle from you when the weight of his body made you roll toward him. His bandaged hand came to rest on your thigh, while the other slid beneath your body, wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.

"Besides..." you heard him whisper, his nose nudging the curve of your neck, "I gotta show you what this tired wreck can do after a few hours of sleep..."

Those were the last words he spoke before letting out a long, deep sigh, his body relaxing behind you as his steady breathing signaled he had finally drifted off.

Beckman slept soundly that night, his heartbeat calm and his brow relaxed, at last enjoying his well-deserved, soothing rest. You, however, couldn’t manage a single blink and endured what felt like the longest night of your life.

.......................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

#one piece #x reader #jintaka stuff #benn beckman fiction #benn beckman x female reader #benn beckman wives army #benn beckman x reader #benn beckman #red haired pirates #Spotify #benn beckman x you

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ahqkas · 2 months ago

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“FULL TIME BABY — bruce wayne.

PAIRING! bruce wayne 𝒙 gn!reader SYNOPSIS! attending the new year’s gala was just as exhausting as fascinating, but it was exactly where you wanted to be with bruce by your side WORD COUNT! 1.1k WARNINGS / TAGS! husband!bruce, fluff NOTES! based on this req.!! © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

NEW YEAR, NEW ME.

It was a phrase that never failed to make your eyes roll with annoyance. You had heard it so many times over the years it became overused. Every year, there’s someone who doesn’t want to bring their past self into the new year with them. So, they make themselves a promise of what to do and what not to do. Most of them treat it as a fleeting act — a burst of motivation (that kind that usually comes to you at 3 a.m.) that fizzled out as soon as the calendar flipped to February.

But your husband, Bruce Wayne, didn’t belong to the most.

Bruce Wayne is a name whispered among many, in a good and a bad way. Some favored him, speaking of him as a longtime friend. And some would rather see his downfall than to see him happy for once in his life.

When your husband made a New Year’s resolution, it wasn’t just for the sake of it. Bruce didn’t mingle with the crowd. He didn’t do things just to fit in. His motive purely drove him to his decisions, to a promise he made to himself. And when he set on doing something, he did it right and without any aching gaps in the action. He didn’t do them lightly.

You watched him now with a careful glint in your gaze. Bruce stood by the massive windows of Wayne Manor’s living space, holding a flute of golden champagne. He took a sip or two occasionally, and you knew from the action alone that he wasn’t drinking to have fun. The bubbles from the alcoholic beverage rose to the surface every time he swallowed a mouthful to distract himself.

Bruce Wayne might have been Gotham’s darling tonight, the host of the most exclusive New Year’s Eve party in the city, but the weight of his double life never left him — pushing with all its weight on his shoulders, deepening the prominent v between his brows.

“Are you hiding?” approaching your husband with your own drink in hand, the other reached out to rest against his biceps. The muscle tensed beneath the perfectly tailored suit before relaxing instantly once it recognized your familiar touch.

The mouth you so dearly loved to kiss with your own lips and trace with the tips of your fingers curved into a small, almost undetectable smile, but he didn’t turn to look at you just yet.

“Not hiding. Observing.”

Right. Observing — verb, notice or perceive (something) and register it as being significant. Or in Bruce’s case; Observing — verb, to remain out of sight.

You knew him too well.

“Observing what exactly?”

He gestured slightly with the glass between his fingers toward the busy crowd in front of you. The golden liquid splashed along the rim of the glass, but he paid it no attention. Socialites, politicians, and businessmen filled the room with their presence and you could hear the hushed voice of their conversations and laughter, blending in with the smooth jazz playing in the background. You followed the direction Bruce was gesturing to, catching a few familiar faces, and then turning back to him.

Who cared about such insignificant people when you had your husband right by your side?

“That just proves my point. You’re hiding.”

His lips twitched up upon hearing your dry humor, and soon a real smile followed suit. It was a small one, barely there, but you saw the glimpse of it and that was enough.

He finally turned to look at you then, and the intensity in those eyes was enough to steal your breath for a moment. You see, that was the thing with Bruce Wayne — he didn’t just look at you. He saw you, as though peeling back every layer of armor you wore every single day without a word.

“Hiding implies I don’t want to be found,” his voice was smooth yet quiet, meant only for you to hear.

You tilted your head to the side, arching an eyebrow and smirking slightly at his words. “And you’re telling me that isn’t the case?”

Bruce’s smile deepened just enough to soften the sharp edges of his sharp features. He looked at you gently, the sparks in his eyes highlighting the adoration he held for you. “I don’t mind being found by you.”

The sentence was simple, something a lover would say to their loved one, but coming from him, it made your heart beat a little quicker. Bruce had a way of saying so much with so little. His words weaved their way right into your softest parts like sunshine after a long night. It wasn’t just the words themselves — it was the loud sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes spoke for him.

You felt the edges of your earlier smirk melt into a smile that matched his own. mirroring both the look in his gaze and the warm smile on his face.

��You’re too good at this,” you remarked after you found your voice.

“At what?”

“Making me forget where we are,” a quiet laugh escaped you and Bruce watched as your whole face lit up like sunshine. He’d never get tired of this, of making you feel like the one in million. “There’s a room full of Gotham’s most influential people in front of us, and somehow, none of it feels important when I’m with you.”

Your husband leaned in slightly, close enough to lower the tone he was speaking in.

“Maybe that’s because none of it is important. Not compared to this.”

It was a rare thing for Bruce to be so open, so vulnerable, and especially in such a public space. Usually, he acted and did things like these in the warm comfort of your shared bedroom where no curious eyes could ruin this moment for you both.

“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .”

The voices grew louder with each counted number, but you barely registered it. Bruce’s hand rose to the skin of your cheek, his knuckles tracing the curve of your bone with such tenderness you barely felt the feather-like touch.

“Seven . . . six . . . five . . .”

His eyes didn’t waver from yours. He held them like a promise.

“Four . . . three . . . two . . .”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Bruce leaned in and took all the air around you like it’d always belonged to him. His lips captured yours in a kiss that felt both soft and warm, yet carried a fire that made the rest of the world disappear. The fire burned, a reminder that what you had was real. The cheers and applause that followed the final number felt distant because of the way he made you feel.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, breath mixing with yours. “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

And a happy New Year it would be if it meant you’d spend it with him again.

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lost-romantique · 2 months ago

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As heartbreaking of this sight is for Stolas to see...

So we the audience knows that the moment Stolas sees the image of Loona and Blitz hugging it destroys him because he just now realizes the gravity of the situation he's forced into.

He was ready to die for the man he loves, but he didn't expect to live and have to deal with the consequences of his own actions.

He can't see Octavia. He can't see his daughter, and that's what fucks him up so bad.

But I think ultimately, this is good for him to see and realize.

Stolas, lacks a lot of self-awareness, not just due to his privelage, but just from the fact that he's never had to deal with consequences so severe before that were the direct cause of his own actions.

Don't get me wrong, Stolas made the right decision in saving Blitz, since he never really had time to make a decision...

But it doesn't change the fact that he never really thought to consider how his decisions or his actions in general would negatively effect the people around him...

Since, you know, Stolas tends to get stuck in his own head without considering the bigger picture.

Because Stolas only cares for two people: Octavia and Blitz.

Yet, despite the fact that he cares for them deeply, he doesn't understand them and their needs...

He's aware that Blitz has some deep rooted issues that cause him to hide behind a mask...

But he isn't aware that gestures such as asking him about his day, commenting and liking his photos, and laughing at his jokes, and giving a giant magical rock in the form of a love confession aren't exactly the way to break through his tough exterior.

(I don't blame Stolas for this, Blitz makes thing extremely difficult in general, but you get what I mean)

He's aware that he needs to be there for his daughter.

But he isn't aware how leaving her in the dark in a desperate bid to protect her youth is ultimately doing more harm than good.

I feel like a part of Stolas feels that as long as he apologizes to Octavia and comforts her than she would always forgive him. So Stolas kinda unknowingly takes advantage of his daughter's love for him even when doesn't mean to.

For example, the events of Western Energy weren't much of a learning experience for Stolas as it was for Blitz because Stolas knows that this is only happening to him because Stella hates him and wants him dead.

He leaves the events of that day emotionally and physically scarred, but doesn't directly learn anything from it except the disillusionment of Blitz being his knight in shining armor that would come rushing in guns blazing in the name of love.

To me Stolas' biggest sin isn't his privilege, it's moreso his inability to see the bigger picture and that yes, actions have consequences.

But that's just my take on things...

Also...

I think it's important for Stolas to see this side of Blitz. The side of Blitz that he isn't familiar with outside of the bedroom.

The seething self-loathing that manifests in the form of crossed out photos. The sheer loneliness he feels majority of the time by just forcing himself to put up a front.

The side of Blitz that is also a caring and doting father that would do anything for his daughter. The kind of father that will always put his child's needs first.

The boss of I.M.P that always strives to succeed and go above his lot in life, always making sure his people or his found family are taken care of.

Again, that's just my take on things.

I feel like a lot of people are too busy focusing on the negative, instead of seeing how much this change is going to benefit Stolas in the long run.

#helluva boss #blitzo #blitzø #helluva boss blitz #ro rambles #stolitz #helluva blitz #stolas #blitzo x stolas #stolas goetia #octavia goetia #octavia

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joltrify · 7 months ago

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experimentations ft. the Artpop queen herself

Silly little (not so little) unrelated HC I developed later under the cut

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

🎀- HC that EVE's most normal hobby - when not occupied with other things - is repainting dolls 🎀- Like in a blue moon you can catch her at the hobby lobby in mom jeans and a cardigan just looking for materials

★- In her down time (which is a bit rare these days) Nadia'll pick those ball-jointed Barbie/Bratz/MH dolls and give them a complete makeover ☆- While she's making them she's fervently thinking 'I will love you in a way that no one else EVER has' and she treats them all that way ★- She'll repaint them in the most unconventional ways possible but they're still gorgeous; a perfect reflection of her studio artwork on a body that isn't her own ☆- Sometimes if she's low on fabrics, instead of making a full-sized mockup of her exhibition fits she'll use her dolls to test the outfit design and make a mini version of the fit with small pieces of the final material ★- She's got this HUGE shelf on her pad that's got these fashion icon dolls displayed with their name and inspiration on a little plaque ☆- Whenever something significant happens and she doesn't want to paint, she'll hold onto the feeling, good or bad, and jot down an idea for a new doll's look ★- and she DOES truly love each of them - though she may have had to learn to love one in particular

🎀- She picked up the hobby in college (before she met Zuke) but didn't really think anything of it 🌸- It was just a means to practice different makeup looks and pencil techniques without sculpting something - and it was fun! She liked having a cute little gal at the end of the process 🎀- When she came up with the idea of using the dolls as models, she created a doll of herself but made the decision to make its skin completely white 🌸- When Nadia met Zuke, she sort of put the hobby aside to focus on her other art mediums, but she looked at the doll of herself and felt comfortable enough to repaint the right side pink (and she laughed a bit to herself looking at the final result, because it looked... Cute! Just like her other gorgeous dolls...) 🎀- After Rapturica, she didn't feel the need to create a doll based on her feelings as she didn't feel as hurt as she expected, but she did find it really, REALLY hard to look at the doll of herself, so she hid it away... 🎀- she picked up repainting again later but went in HARD - they began to look more artsy and alien, just like her other art pieces 🌸- After graduating she didn't really have time to repaint dolls and focused on creating other arts/music again, only occasionally using them to test outfits (but never the one of herself) 🎀- After the events of NSR though, she picked it up again as a form of self-care. It's something she doesn't have to create for the public eye, and she's rekindled the joy of creating a strange little gal and loving them despite their bizarre quirks. 🌸- ... I think she feels a bit more comfortable looking at the doll of herself now, too.

★- She's probably still got doll repaint videos up on her channel from her college days, hehe. ☆- (She's debating whether or not to make a mini exhibition about the concept of dolls.* Likely not, as she doesn't want to taint the tranquility of the act, but she still likes the idea. It's better to not mix work art with home art, anyway.) (* (How they can reflect their caretaker, they exhibit both confidence and vulnerability, they can be broken and discarded but repaired, they're still images that can be moved in a 3d space however you desire, they rely on a person to actually be 'real' ykyk that kind of thing. the symbolism of dolls.)

The doodle I made in the 3rd picture (above the cut) is inspired by those really pretty doll repaints... I think that that look in particular is one that she tested on a doll first... pre-ugly cry, that is.

Thanks for reading my very silly idea... decorated the bullets with Bows and stars because I felt like it, haha. Have a lovely day~🌸

#how does she even get her hair to do that she's so powerful...#(kinda popped off with the last one ngl ✋🙄)#i had a doodle of little Eve in my folders almost 4 years now so i decided to draw her again to see how my style's changed #i really forgot how much fun it is to just throw colors on the board... highly recommend!!!#also doubles as a destresser so it was a little relaxing :]#art #digital art #digital painting #fanart #nsr #nsr fanart #no straight roads #no straight roads fanart #no straight roads eve #nsr eve #nsr nadia #nsr eve fanart #end my suffering

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whore4gwen · 7 months ago

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Re8 Women dating HCs

Contains: Lady Dimitrescu, Donna Benevento, & Mother Miranda

WLW

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Tags: Light talks of manipulation, narcissism, and sadism, mental health issues, fluff, angst if you squint hard enough, possessiveness, slightly unhinged behavior, MY personal head cannons, very slight suggestiveness, Mirandas fucking God complex, isolation, religious elements, cuddling, poor perception of love, & tax evasion.

A/N: Im working on sm things rn it’s not even funny. Despite that, I desperately wanted to post something, so here’s some of my hc. No these are not all my hcs, these are just some of the REALISTIC ones I have. These are based on my own personal perception of these fictional characters. You are welcome to disagree with anything I write, but you’re not welcome to harass me about it. Please keep negativity to yourselfs. Anyways, please enjoy!

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Alcina:

-It’s not that Lady Dimitrescu is incapable of loving another, I just think it’s the way she would love.

-Carnal, possessive, dangerous, a little crazed even. Nothing about the lady’s love is sensual or soft. She’s powerful, domineering, and boy does she relish in it. Of course she’s aware of all the things she could do, all the things you’d let her do. So willing, so compliant, so easy to control.

-Alcina is a narcissist through and through. You will bend to her will, to her every need. You’re hers, after all. (We still love you thou)

-I feel like her love is very incessant, very smothering for lack of better words. She’s not exactly clingy, but she needs you around, she needs to feel your presence.

-Always, and I mean always watching you. Nothing you do will go past her. She needs to know exactly where you are and what you’re doing at all times.

-A bit emotionally manipulative. Of course she doesn’t see it that way, she just wants everything to go her way. What’s so wrong with that?

-I think for the most part she’s a little self aware about her flaws and what not, but I wouldn’t say this with 100% certainty. A big part of her doesn’t really see a problem with the way she is. It’s absolutely normal.

-But to be fair, it’s not like anyone would call her out.. so🤷🏻‍♀️

-Pet names pet names pet names. Alcina absolutely adores them. She only really uses your names unless she’s really pissed. In that case, run.

Donna:

-Shy. So incredibly so that you don’t hear her voice till weeks after working for her. And the way your jaw fell to the ground when you heard it had Angie belly laughing on the ground. If it wasn’t for her, you thought maybe you were hearing things.

-Forgets to eat often. She gets so preoccupied with her dolls, she doesn’t always take the best care of herself. So make sure you remind her to eat:(

-It’ll take AGES to get Donna there, but when you do, she is nothing short of the wait. Very passionate, and a little unhinged.

-Like Alcina, she’s a bit possessive.

-She finally found someone she was comfortable with showing her scare, you’re not going anywhere. You belong to her and that’s final. You’re literally stuck, so get comfortable.

-Values your opinion over everything. Her cooking, her sewing skills, her Garden. Donna swoons at praise. A light pink dusting her cheeks any time you compliment her, no matter how minor.

-Poor Donna has been alone for quite some time now. Touch starved as well as touch repulsed. Have fun with that :)

- Canonically, Donna has really bad mental health issues, which causes her to lash out and make rash decisions. She’s not abusive by any means, just a lot to handle.

-She gets into her own head a lot. Constantly convincing herself none of this is real. That one day she’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.

-I know she has manic episodes. Cannot convince me otherwise. Before you, they were almost unmanageable. Your first experience dealing with Donna during one terrified you. You were so worried about Donna, you had no idea what was happening.

-You tried desperately to comfort her. Unfortunately the voices were stronger than your weak attempts.

-After a while, she finally calmed down and explained that catastrophe as best as she could without scaring you off.

-At first Donna didn’t really understand the purpose of cuddling. It’s not that she didn’t want to, she was just truly confused. After having the significance of cuddling explained to her, she fell in love with it.

-Unironically, she’s the big spoon. She loves holding you, making sure you’re safe in her arms. Now, it’s the only way she can fall asleep.

Miranda:

-This bitch is so crazy.

-All shits and giggles aside, this woman is absolutely sadistic.

-Mind games are inevitable. Especially if she’s truly in love with you, in her dark and twisted way.

-Possessive asf.

-Did I already say possessive?

-Miranda is definitely stingy and will isolate you from your friends/family. Why do you need them when you have her? She’s your Goddess, she’s all you need. Never mind everyone else.

-Definitely the type to tell you to take a nap if you ever say you’re tired of her shit.

-You’re not going anywhere. Nice try, but no.

-I know this is obvious, but her God complex is really top tier. I mean seriously.

-Absolutely loves being worshipped, and not just in the bedroom, if you know what I mean. She wants to be put first, she wants to be your number one priority, your Goddess, your everything.

-She will find a way to incorporate her status & power in everything she does.

-She loves you, but you must always remember your place, under her. Figuratively and literally.

-Despite her cut off personality, she’s definitely a cuddlier. Especially after a long day of failed experiments and aggravating meetings.

-Like Donna, Miranda has been alone for almost a century. She’s so damn touch starved yet also incredibly touch repulsed at the same time. Have fun coping.

-Of course she threatened you if you ever told anyone thou. I mean can you imagine THE Mother Miranda being spooned? Imagine what the public would say.

-Fucking tax evader.

-After she gets Eva back, successfully, she lessens up, but only a bit. Like Alcina, she is the way she is and she doesn’t really see the problem with it.

I want all three of them so badly.

#re8 village #resident evil 8 #headcanons #alcina dimitriscu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #mother miranda is so hot #mother miranda x reader #I need all three of them #poor cutie patootie Donna #wlw fanfic #possessive #crazy #tax evasion #cults #mother miranda #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady beneviento #resident evil #Alcina being a badass bitch

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endearing-dalliance · 2 months ago

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Just like Piltover, Arcane's beauty hides its fundamental problems. Its ableist, antisemetic, acephobic, classist, and worst of all, it doesn't initially seem that way.

Firstly, I want to say that this post and my problem with all of this is due to the real-life references, biases, and viewpoints of the team people who created the show, made the design decisions, wrote the scripts, and continue to defend what many have pointed out are genuine problems in their stories and characters. This nothing to do with the VAs, individual animators, supporting crew, or even the characters themselves. I'm genuinely heartbroken for all those people who proudly worked on the show, did their parts beautifully, supported the viewers, and are met with a fanbase disappointed, hurt, and angry about something completely out of their control.

I wrote up a different post about Piltover vs Zaun in the original lore and how that version is such a different situation than we we got.

Despite everything they did to make the Arcane undercity/Zaun this horrible place, they keep referencing the positives of LoL Zaun (an equal and respected society) and attributing them to Arcane Zaun. All of this is straight from the AoA:

"When you look closely, Piltover and Zaun are not entirely dissimilar" (y'all literally designed them as polar opposites)

Zaun is a refuge for outcasts who don't have a home, and there is the thrilling sense that anything is possible. So pretty much the exact opposite of what Vi was trying to show Cait?

In Piltover everything is heavily regulated; Zaun is wild and more pure meritocracy. "its is not completely lawless, though there are some issues with the mob." That's certainly one way to put it.

Zaunites "make magic out of nothing. nothing is precious, everything can be recycled and be reworked to make it better" I'm sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that people can't afford to replace things when they break. Nope. Completely plausible reasoning. No real life parallel at all.

One example of innovation is a jeweler from Zaun who makes unique gothic work. Not only did they never showed us this side of the undercity, I maintain NOBODY in Piltover is putting on a gas mask to go jewelry shopping in a slum.

"Even though they were oppressed, they can innovate in ways Topside can't. Like well let's take this freedom we have because they don't care about us, and use it to find beauty and innovation. That's where Ekko's little conclave came in." Did they forget the literal orphans he rescued from those "shady streets"? What were they free from, their parents? Cause Piltover's enforcers seem to kill a lot of those despite "not caring". This is straight from Ekko's LoL lore where he spent his days being a kid running around with the Lost Children and inventing for fun. Arcane Ekko got Misfit Toys as an intro song. The Firelights were called a gang. These are not happy, healthy kids enjoying their world. They're vigilantes taking care of other kids who have nobody else.

"Ekko emerged as one of the unlikely heroes of the show, rising to meet tough, sometimes heartwrenching challenges, and becoming a charismatic and beloved leader" His LoL lore is that of a self-educated genius described as "The Hero of Zaun's Youth". Beloved pretty firmly established already. Also charismatic...are we really not past the point where its not supposed to be a shock that a black guy can be articulate?

Sevika's arm is specifically described as "flamboyant", which was the same word used to describe Piltover's augments

This gave me the vibe that they were trying to glorify or romanticize Zaunites' suffering and environment, but on further reflection I think that's giving them way too much credit. Christian's reply below makes it pretty clear he doesn't understand his own story, and Alex's indicates they weren't even trying to tell it and are surprised by this interpretation. Because to them, the Zaunites were the bad guys all along.

(Cool cool name one team member who has personal experience with living in under an oppressive ruling class that is either ignores their suffering or actively worsens it. I'll wait.)

Also, I think its very telling that a cocreator admits to having difficulty distinguishing between a group of systemically abused people fighting for their right to live on their own terms and people breaking the law because want power and influence and money. I don't think Peaky Blinders and the French and American Revolution (among others) are really compatible stories.

"It was an impossible pipe dream if you ask me." Well then. All the nations that successfully rose up and freed themselves from their oppressive overlords were just flukes I guess. Also I'm not sure how they managed to figure out the alien invasion lack of relatability and not realize that's basically what they ended up with. Also, the fact that they keep framing it as a civil war rather than a revolutionary one is mindbogglingly out of touch.

So they were trying to comment on the two party system, but also the point wasn't to comment on the real world. They wanted to show the widening wealth gap in a "fun way", but also that's not what they were shooting for. Over and over we've heard about how the show is about duality, the struggle of Jinx and Vi and the struggle of the two cities. If they didn't want to comment on the real world, didn't know enough about politics to even realize what they were doing or what message they sent, DON'T MAKE A $250 MILLION STORY ABOUT IT. Thanks to their contributions, we now have a story about two girls brutally traumatized by their environment enveloped in a pro-oppressor, forgive your abusers theme. Well I aint forgiving any of this.

I get the idea of "show, not tell", but some things do need to be explicitly told. Oppression is objectively wrong no matter who the oppressed are should not be left up to interpretation. Its not the viewers' job to piece together that Zaun's problems are ultimately caused by Piltover, especially since what they are shown is that death of a child makes the world a better place. Not once in 18 episodes do they ever explicitly condemn Piltover. Not once did they validate Zaun's right to independence. We got "forgiveness" (forgiving your abusers? great message) and "finding your way back to each other" (which none of the duos actually did. They're all "dead"). And my personal favorite, the important lesson that asexual people do not have happy, healthy, nonplatonic relationships, so TAKE THAT JAYVIK SHIPPERS.

Since they ended Arcane with a reference to a Japanese proverb, in the spirit of duality I'm ending with a quote by someone who actually has personal experience on the subject:

“If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."- Desmond Tutu

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ghastlyfilters · 2 months ago

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random lost boys headcanons that i constantly think about!!

pairing(s): none!

warning(s): mentions of weed, religion, paul being a dirty little shit when it comes down to magazines

(here’s some random headcanons no one asked for but i literally think about these all the time and can’t get them out of my head. and yes, i know some bands and music artists mentioned in this were in their prime after the lost boys was set. but fuck it there’s no need to put dates on things when it’s all just for the sake of fictional writing. ALSO BONUS POINTS TO ANYONE WHO GETS THE OG BRANDON ROGERS REFERENCE IN THIS)

gifs not mine!! (if you know the original owner please tag them!!)

DAVID

• This man smokes like ten packs of cigarettes per day.

Think of a mukbang video but instead it’s just David smoking a shit ton of cigarettes packs.

Max has came to the conclusion that if David were not a vampire, he would in fact be a cancer patient.

• Him bullying someone is just his poor attempts at flirting.

• Makes multiple attempts at destroying Christmas decorations in every store he goes to during winter. When an employee looks in his direction upon hearing the crashing sound of tree baubles, he stares at them with that icy glare, looking personally offended that the employee is giving him the “Did you just do that..” look.

He’s a dumb shit that couldn’t care less what anyone else sees him doing. The employee could literally catch him smacking a glittery bauble off their mini Christmas tree with the back of his hand and he’ll glance over at them, blinking repeatedly.

“It was an accident.”

He’ll even turn to his mind control, allowing the employee to believe it was either Paul or Marko. It usually ends up being Marko, and he’s standing there biting the cuff of his jacket whilst getting the shittiest lecture from the store manager. Turns out poor Marko actually loves the place’s Christmas decorations.. despite being a bloodsucker that should resent anything to do with Christ. He just likes sparkly things.. ☹️

• David is so blunt to anyone who calls him self centred. He ain’t phased in the slightest bit by it. Marko’s said it on multiple occasions after an argument broke out between them all in the cave, and everyone was throwing digs. But the boys know David’s the most brutally honest being they’ve ever encountered.

“Who else am I supposed to be centred on?”

• He’s always dreamed of owning a black cat named Salem, but he knows the cat either won’t take to him being a vampire or the boys might accidentally forget it’s around and do something stupid.

(He really just wants one to sit on his lap whilst he’s in his wheelchair acting like Don fucking Corleone)

• Went through an identity crisis and forced himself to try and look like Billy Idol for a week. (That week turned into years)

• Dwayne’s still trying to convince him that bleaching his hair was a bad decision after a clump of it FELL OUT.

• If there’s ever a child crying on the boardwalk, David’s usually the reason they’re crying.

PAUL

• Is always the “C’mon everybody!!” person at the function. Yet when he runs off excitedly, no one follows.

• Never knows what to do in a chaotic situation because he’s that used to BEING the chaos.

• Cannot sit still for shit. He has to be fiddling with something or bouncing around the place like the madman he is.

• Paul’s a ride or die Mötley Crüe fan. He’s even lured some chicks on the boardwalk by playing Mötley on his boombox for them, feeding afterwards of course. (He’s the sneakiest little shit you’ll ever meet)

If he ever met a girl whom he fell for and eventually turned, his ideal date idea would be going on his motorcycle in the moonlit night and blasting “Kickstart My Heart” with his new partner riding along with him. He’s dreamt of it for years.

(Marko’s bound to third wheel though duh)

• He’s also got a thing for Alice In Chains, and he’s spent many drunk nights screaming the lyrics to “Bleed The Freak” outside the cave whilst meanwhile inside the boys sit in silence and are forced to listen to him.

• Paul barely sees girls with lip piercings but when he does holy fuck.

Just any kind of person who can pull off facial piercings is magical to him. Whether it be a few or a lot, he’s mesmerised by whatever kind of metal is in your face.

• Says “Pspsps..” to every kitty he sees on the boardwalk then screams the biggest “FUCK YOU!” if he witnesses the cat either pad over to someone else or look at him and run away.

• He’s always got a fucking rootbeer in his hand when he’s in the cave with the boys. Aside from blood, him and Marko live off of rootbeer. Ice. Cold. Rootbeer.

• Cherry Pie by Warrant is this man’s national anthem.

• Continuously has to find new weed dealers because if he has a bad argument with one of the boys, they’ll purposely hunt down his current dealer and drain every drop of blood from their body. This causes Paul to go apeshit because when he’s not out looking for prey or pissing people off on the boardwalk, you can bet his ass is in the cave stoned.

• On the topic of his severe weed habit, he’s not much of an edibles guy. He’d rather be sat on his ass smoking the fattest joint of his immortal existence and enjoying every minute of it. He’s occasionally gotten edibles for Marko, but Marko and gummies do not mix after the Frog Brothers started creeping around again.

• Has the biggest Playboy magazine stash that he hides underneath a pile of old denim and leather jackets in the cave. No one apart from Marko knows about them. Plus they’ve always been for.. special.. occasions..

Marko can’t help himself though and starts singing “In The Heat Of The Night” by Sandra when anyone innocently mentions magazines around Paul. This causes Paul to send his boot into Marko’s stomach whenever the boys are all assing around on the bridge, and he’s the first to fall.

“….. I’m telling David about your WET DREAMSSSSS.” Marko usually screams before disappearing into the fog below.

• Him and Marko don’t celebrate holidays unless it’s Halloween or Easter. They don’t give a fuck about the religious part when it comes down to Easter though. And if they wanted to, they couldn’t. They’re just there for the chocolate. They miss the taste of it. Paul will literally start fighting children during an Easter egg hunt on the boardwalk so he can get more for himself and Laddie.

(God help the children who push Laddie out of the way)

MARKO

• Goes into Claire’s Accessories and proceeds to tell the child who’s about to get their ears pierced how bad it should hurt.

(Also steals drip for himself because hello yes he does indeed fw a Sanrio earring set)

• He’s always the one who’ll make the most guttural moaning sounds if you’re on the phone to someone.

• Him and Paul are always found in the naughty section of Max’s video store.

• Whenever a fight breaks out on the boardwalk (that isn’t started by David or Paul for once) he doesn’t know what the fuck to do so he just starts screaming.

• Whenever one of the boys is hurt or sick (yes vampires get sick), Marko’s always the one who tends to them. He’s a massive over-thinker. David came down with something one time, and it was bad. Real bad. It was extremely rare, but it hit David like a freight train. Marko thought he walked in and found him in a state where he’d never wake up, so Max and the boys were left to deal with him bawling for the rest of the evening. Even David was confused when he awoke from his slumber.

• He has a bat plushie named Boris that Paul stole for him years ago. He gets caught chewing on the wings a lot but all in all he loves his Boris.

• Paul once traveled to LA and took him to one of those haunted house events for Halloween. They got kicked out and almost left their motorcycles because Marko starting punching multiple actors. It ended up in this big ass arguement because Paul swore for a moment he saw a glimpse of Marko’s fangs in the light and his eyes momentarily changed.

• The pigeons that flap around in the cave are like his pets. He’s down for just chilling with them and petting them if they let him.

Marko lowkey loves animals.

• He likes embracing his golden, curly locks. Aside from his fashion sense, he thinks his curls are really what gives him his image. He isn’t vain, but he does truly adore his little curls.

• Marko has such a soft spot for trad goths and their way of dressing. Whenever he sees one on the boardwalk, (which he hopes he will), he’s always fascinated by whatever outfit they have on. If they walk past him and the boys, he offers a shy smile. He wishes he could go start a conversation with them, but he thinks it’d be pretty dumb considering what his.. needs are. He doesn’t wanna kill people he thinks are cool.

DWAYNE

• Has the og resting bitch face.

• He wishes he could just stay silent and wonders why it’s not enough to just show up somewhere and have giant eyes.

• Dwayne used to get so many random people come up to him on the boardwalk and tell him how good he’d suit a black or brown eyeliner.

Since that day Dwayne has never forgotten those people and he always wears eyeliner inside and outside the cave.

• Major black coffee addict despite not even needing it.

• Whenever the likes of Paul and Marko actually try to engage in activities whilst on the boardwalk, some female will waltz up to Dwayne. Their approach and characteristics through their energy will allow him to of course decide what his next move is, but if it’s some yappy person who clearly has a horrible energy, Dwayne can be just as blunt as David is.

“How can I get to know you?”

…

“I don’t want to be known.”

And then he’ll walk away.

• This man is dedicated to leopard print. DEDICATED. In his mind him and the boys are living in some lavish mansion in 70s LA with leopard print plush sofas, leopard print pillows, leopard print bed sheets, literally everything leopard print.

If he had free rein to design the places he wanted to, he’d be ecstatic. (Literally all he wants is to turn Max’s house into a leopard print and cherry red museum.)

• When Dwayne actually smiles around people, it’s the sort of smile that can heal a thousand wounds. Like him coming out of his shell is the sweetest thing to witness.

• If the boys are off irritating the fuck out of people on the boardwalk instead of trying to find a good feed, Dwayne will occasionally sneak away and visit any sort of music store he can find. He could sit and yap to the people in there for days, and that’s really where he feels the most comfy around strangers. He loves talking to others about bands and artists like Judas Priest, Type O Negative, Rob Zombie, Pantera, Sisters of Mercy, Monster Magnet and Rammstein.

• The film The Crow ended up having a really special place in Dwayne’s heart. He loves playing little bits and pieces on his guitar for Laddie from Graeme Revell’s music from the soundtrack.

HII! if you have any lost boys requests send them in!! as you can tell, i really enjoy writing for all of them!! (i’ll write for honestly any lost boys character atp) <33

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys headcanons #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #kiefer sutherland #brooke mccarter #alex winter #billy wirth #headcanons #character headcanons #hcs #horror headcanons #writing #ghastlyfilters

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fbfh · 4 months ago

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you know what I'm thinking about?? beck oliver. yeah the one from victorious first of all FUCK YOU dan schneider and I'm specifically thinking about this clip from the episode where they try to make a reality show about their high school 0:31

I really hate that beck is one of those characters like lucas friar and tristin dugray where we simply do not get more clarity on them as a person. one of the few times we get to see beck really open up and talk about WHY he's so passionate about acting and it's immediately cut off and overshadowed by how he looks. dare I say he has elle woods syndrome. "beck and jade are toxic" "beck should date cat" "beck and robbie fuck" yeah yeah you know what he REALLY NEEDS????? he needs someone that does not give a single fuck about how he looks. he needs someone who prioritizes HIM instead of his hair. yes he's pretty and he has nice hair but those are all sprinkles. he needs somone who cares about the rest of the cupcake, not just the decorations. I think the reason he thinks he likes angry girls who yell and fight with him all the time is because when he and jade fight she's yelling at him about anything other than his hair. he needs a break from constantly being objectified is my point. you know what would be great?? beck dating a screenwriter. someone who works on the scripts for the hollywood arts shows they put on. someone who hunts him down in the halls looking like they rolled out of a dumpster with sikowitz and reeks of coffee because they've been up for 36 hours to meet their deadline and finish their homework.

you are just that. you do other stuff at hollywood arts too, but there's really not a lot of script writers there, so you've found a way to pretty much corner the market and it looks FANTASTIC on your student transcript, plus you get extra credit for it, which is even better. you're wearing a hoodie that looks like you slept in it for two days (true if you had slept at all) and you're not aware of the two or three empty jet brew cups shoved into your hoodie pocket, plus the extra one you're carrying that you're almost done with.

"Beck!"

you manage to startle him a little which is surprising because he is totally unscareable. he doesn't think you've ever exchanged two words before now, he doesn't even know if he knows your name.

"I need to talk to you," you pant, a little delerious from caffeine and sleep depravation and excitement. "I finished the script for the next play-"

Beck didn't realize that a student was writing any of the shows they put on, he thought they were all lisenced or from local writers.

"It's a dystopian retelling of frankenstein with- with cyberpunk influences," you ramble, "and I need to know if you're okay playing the lead." you pant, still trying to catch your breath and not lose your train of thought.

"some pretty fucked up stuff happens and you'd have to quickly lose your morals and go from morally gray to kind of antagonistic pretty quickly..." you look up at him and hand him a script full of sticky flags. "I wanna make sure there's nothing that'll make you too uncomfortable... like I said it gets pretty fucked up, but I wrote it with you in mind for the doctor, so- just, let me know what you think."

before he can answer, you trudge into the janitor's closet and fall asleep on top of a pile of paper towels.

Beck takes the script home to look over, and he's genuinely surprised for a number of reasons. he expected to be typecast as the love interest yet again, but you want him as the antagonistic lead. it's a really complex role, and has absolutley nothing to do with how he looks. you even left a sticky note in there by accident, and he reads your scribbled handwriting. doc MUST be smwn who fully commits and dgaf if it makes them look bad or silly or unattractive. if they get self consious it ruins the char

underneith are two or three names scribbled out, then his, underlined several times. he is so genuinely shocked by this decision, and absolutely fascenated by your script. he's actually getting really excited to play a role that will challenge him for once.

the next day he meets you with the script tucked under one arm and a coffee in each hand. he hands one to you, and you thank him with a pleasantly surprised smile.

"You seem like you could use it."

"That's putting it mildly..." you mutter in agreement, and he bites back a chuckle when you remove the lid and down half the cup at once. You look at him anxiously after that, and your eyes flit between him and your script. "So... what did you think?"

"I... accept." relief floods through you. "I've already been thinking about my character and going over my lines. But why did you want me for Victor?"

You shrug a little.

"Well, you got the script like, 12 hours ago and you're already developing your portrayal of him, so that's a pretty good reason there," you chuckle, "and I... I hope this doesn't sound mean, but I don't think there are a lot of other people here who could pull off such a complex antagonistic main character."

you state, taking another sip of coffee.

"Everyone here is great, really-" you emphasize, hoping you don't sound like a dick. "I just feel like no one else could really bring the depth to him that you could. He's a horrible person, but I still want the audience to sympathize with him at times, and go wow he's a fucked up asshole at others without making it feel disjointed. I think you're really the only one who has the skills to pull that off."

honestly, if Beck had slightly less self control he would have started wailing and sobbing right then. Instead, he's determined to live up to your expectations and prove to you that your faith in him will pay off. You work pretty closley with production of the show, and with Beck. after closing night, you and Beck are still pretty close, to your pleasant surprise. his friends are a little curious why Beck suddenly is spending all his free time with one of those kids in their class who never talks or says anything, but he seems... happy. he did in fact fall first, and he definitely fell harder. he falls even more when months pass and he realizes you are still too adorably oblivious to realize how he feels.

#drabbles #beck oliver #beck oliver x reader #beck oliver drabbles #victorious #victorious x reader #victorious drabbles #LET BECK BE HAPPY #LET HIM BE SEEN #BECK NEEDS TO DATE SOMEONE ON THE ACE SPECTRUM TBH #beck with an ace and or aro s/o who when asked why they like him you're like “I just think he's neat! :)”#you have never once thrown yourself at him and he has never once wanted anyone so bad #your dynamic is literally “wow that sex was poggers lemme go back to explaining the fnaf lore”#and he's like yes #you are the first person to surprise him this much #beck unfortunately is bored and understimulated a lot #he's grateful for all the opportunities he's been given ofc #but deep down he yearns for more #not for materialistic “I wanna be famous” reasons #he just wants to feel something #and good GOD do you check that box several times over

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certainlynotasimp · 2 years ago

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Our Love

(Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader)

A/N: Hey everyone~✨ I’m writing this request thingy after I um had kind of a bad day. Not to get too personal, um parents can suck. Like they can hurt your feelings and not care. So I wanted to write this because I kinda wish that I had parents like Sunny and Miggy tbh. Anyway enough with that~✨

A/N: TikTok spoiled some of the movie for me so I’m kinda mad but I got to think up some more Sunny lore for you guys. This is part 2 of Our Girl and forgive the ending because I ran out of ideas. If you like my work please check out my master list and if you wanna stay up to date with the series, then comment on this Taglist and you’ll be added. To see what’s coming up next then check out my upload schedule.✨

If you are someone who has struggled with Postpartum, Child loss, anxiety with pregnancy, or any trauma related to child birth and child bearing, feel free to skip this if you don’t think you can handle it. Your well being is more important, so go read some fluff, drink some water, and if you don’t have anyone giving you kisses then here: *platonic kisses*

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Female Reader/Female pronouns, Barely use of (Y/N) ((Sunny is their nickname, not their name)), angst, trauma, mentions of child loss, anxiety around pregnancy, and Google Translated Spanish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bouncing fear blooms as the repeating drumming of her pacing feet in the confined walls of the bathroom stall. The constant nagging of her god mother comes back to haunt her like the remains of her muffin tries to climb it’s way back up.

The three minute timer on her phone felt like an eternity as the white piece of plastic continues to load up the bullet that will end everything she’s built up for herself so far.

She was head of the undergraduate at her biology department at NYU and she had stupidly decided to go out to some party with her friends to celebrate the end of the school year. An embarrassing hook-up occurred with her having to sneak out without even getting a good look at the guy. Of course she assumed that her drunken self would have used protection, but unfortunately, alcohol doesn’t always encourage good decisions.

She thought that the sudden spouts of tossing her lunch up was simply due to nerves as she was applying for a work study program with Alchnemax, but the sudden repulsion to her god mother’s cooking is what really set the dread into motion. A dread she swallowed down with a big smile as she pretended her whole life wasn’t changing in an instant. She held onto the hope that maybe it was just nerves bothering her until today.

Her interview with Alchnemax went exceptionally well. The woman was aware that her chances of being accepted were low despite her high academic achievements due to A) she’s a scholarship student, B) she’s some poor kid from Brooklyn, and C) she was an orphan without any cushy family legacy behind her.

Two of the three department leaders of the Genetics department already decided her fate as they had those noses turned up at her, but one just looked at her with kindness. He gave her a chance. And if it wasn’t for that the others wouldn’t have heard her creditials and wouldn’t have looked at her completely impressed. The man who looked at her so proudly gave her a wink as a way of showing he was sure I was gonna get it. Not in the creepy sexually charged man way. But like how a father would their child.

Her first friend here. Dr..

The beeping from the phone alarm catches her attention as she turns to look at the white stick of destiny. Her whole life is forever changing today one way or another….

~~~~~~~~~

“I’m what?” She gasps as she looks up at the red and blue man in a lab coat in shock.

She had just awoken hours after she had experienced the most bizarre incident that landed her in the infirmary. She had met a girl from an alternate dimension where she and Miguel were normal people who had a family together, and their daughter was that universe’s Spider-Woman.

Their Daughter…their baby…

“You’re pregnant, Miss. (L/N).” Spider-Doc says cheerfully as he places a cold device on her stomach. A monitor appears from the small device with a familiar picture of a small little bean inside the black vast of her womb. A baby…

“It looks like you’re about 6 weeks along based on the size of the fetus and it’s a good thing we found out when we did. Mr. O’Hara would have had our throats if he….”

The doctor’s words fell on deaf ears as the woman’s eyes focused intently on the image in front of her. The sounds of their pounding heart beat challenges the drumming of her own as her fingers lightly trace the image. She was so small…so defenseless.

Just like he was…

“D-does Miguel know?”

~~~~~~~

Positive.

The test mocked her as she watched her Godmother hold onto the plastic piece with an unreadable expression. The twist of her dark mauve painted lips causes her glowy skin to crack under her dark eyes. A hand pushes back the freshly installed knotless braids as the clinking of the golden charms twisted her stomach more.

April was the one person the girl could always rely on the most in the world, having raised her since she was eight years old. She was the only real mother figure she’s ever known and always pushed her to her hardest. April always made sure that the two were always fed, clothed, and pampered, and the only thing she ever asked for was for her godchild to bring home all A’s and to have a smile.

April taught her to value education both in and out of school. She made sure she could solve any math problems as best as she could without a calculator and how to make sure to know which doors she can knock on if someone was following her at night. April made sure she knew her Spanish well so she can have bigger opportunities in the workforce and to know respect for the Parra’s down the hallway.

April had a baby the same time as her best friend Maria and promised each other to be each other’s godmothers so their daughters can always be best friends just like their moms.

But, Maria lost her life while April lost her baby.

“How far along are you?” The older woman asks with her dark warm eyes misting over as she looks at her god child.

“I don’t know, maybe a month and a half…” The own girl’s body shaking as sobs built up in her chest as she looks at her now smiling godmother.

“Do you want to keep it?…”

The question hung in the air as the women’s combined shaking forms as the woman honestly didn’t think about it before.

~~~~~~~~~

When the spider got released from the infirmary, she immediately turned off her gizmo as she turned invisible. She shakily avoided everyone she could so she could go to her room without seeing anyone.

She couldn’t bring herself to see anyone. Not with this. She knew if Miguel wasn’t on a mission right now then he would have already been at the infirmary waiting on her, but she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes. It wasn’t fair.

One of her hands rests on her stomach as she navigates the hallways before finally reaching her room. She waited until no one was paying attention to slip in and turn back to normal with a painful sigh. She forgot how painful it was to do that without her suit helping her. Miguel specifically made it so her powers wouldn’t put as much strain on her heart than it already did.

Her back hits the door as she finally collapses with a shaker breath. The reality of the situation was finally kicking in as she placed both hands on her stomach. She was pregnant with Miguel’s child.

Something that definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Sure, she can argue that if the anomalous event hadn’t have occurred and destroyed her dimension , she would have never known about the Spider Verse or even met Miguel…

But she’s accepted that whatever relationship they were in wasn’t going to be able to manifest more than what it was. Two broken people who fell in love and were trying to make the best of their circumstances.

Due to her being from an alternate dimension, there isn’t a canon event that could possibly let her be able to live with Miguel and start a family…it would just destroy every thing…

‘Would Miguel even want this baby?…’ She though as she runs one of her shaking hands over her cheek as anxious tears rolled down her face. ‘What if she has powers like us? What if they aren’t healthy? Would he want to get rid of it because she’s an anomaly….’

She didn’t have the same support system as she did when she had her son, Ben. She didn’t have April who would sooth her anxieties of motherhood and made sure that Ben had diapers at home. She didn’t have the Parra’s who would bring her supper some evenings in exchange for letting the infertile Valeria babysit her boy when her and April were busy. She didn’t have the corner stores where they always hid back some cans of formula for her and gave her son lollipops.

Her son…her baby boy that she failed…

The image of his lifeless little body appears in her vision as she remembers the way his body was limp in her hold. The way his little face was so frozen in fear when he used to always have the biggest smile on his face…

“What if I fail this one too?”

Her thoughts cause sobs to rip from her body as she curls her knees up to her chest as she thought about all of the possibilities that this baby would ruin it…

Then Maria’s face came to mind. The young spider girl that was only a few years younger than she was when she found out she was gonna have Ben.

With the girl’s face burning in her mind, the woman stands up and immediately storms out of her room. Her blurry eyes burned as she made her way to the one place that she knew would have answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ba dump ba dump

The pounding sound fills the room as the pair of women stared in awe at the monitor. A little squirming being about the size of her hands shined against the black background of the screen as the OB-GYN wiggles around the cold wand over her stomach.

“Oh my…” A teary smile appears on the older woman’s face as April clenches onto her astonished Goddaughter’s hand. The 14 week old fetus was facing the camera as his little legs wiggled around enough to barely turn him over.

His mother stares at him with such wonder as to how she could have made that.

She knew the whole biological process of how it’s down and what to expect at each step, but just seeing him there, barely even big enough to see him, was her baby.

“There he is. A perfectly healthy baby boy.” The OB smiles at the mother and gently traces his little face on the monitor. “Do you have any ideas for names yet?”

April smiles at the girl lost in wonder and decides to let her have the moment she remembers so well from her own pregnancy. April runs her thumb over her child’s knuckles as she answers.

“She wants to name the baby after her parents. They died in a car accident when she was young. If it was a girl, her name would be Maria and if it was a boy, his name would be…”

“Ben.” The mesmerized girl finishes her sentence as she looks back at the doctor with a bright teary smile. “His name is gonna be Ben.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey boss.” Lyla cautiously calls the man who was frantically trying to find his missing love.

After he returned from stopping a Prowler anomaly, Miguel immediately went to the infirmary to find that she had left hours ago and no one else has seen her since the young SpiderWoman was sent back home.

He thought she was fine when he last checked on her when they shared a happy tear feast over how wonderful their daughter was before she had fallen asleep from crying.

“Not now Lyla. I’m trying to find (Y/N).” He grumbles as his nerves twist his stomach around.

It wasn’t like her to go off the grid like this, not without at least telling Miguel that she wanted some quiet time. He clenched his fist as he feared that meeting Maria may have caused his Sunny to fall into a bad spell of depression since…

“She’s in the observation room looking at the Web.” Lyla answers like she was annoyed that Miguel was listening to her. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. There’s something strange happening to your-“

Lyla is cut off by Miguel turning her off as he speed walks towards the observation room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tiny wail broke the chaotic tension in the room as tears of joy flood out of the exhausted woman. The squealing babe was placed on her chest as the doctors returned back between her legs to remove the placenta. Her trembling hands came up to soothe the baby boy as his slimy body trembled in the new environment. His dark hair matted to his soft head as his mother placed a delicate kiss on her baby boy’s forehead.

“Hello, Ben.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Miguel storms into the observation room as the target of his search stared silently at the glowing red spiral of webs. The images of the Maria of Earth 1784-B played out on a holographic image as she looks like she was tussling with the two boys he recognized as Maria’s brothers. An image of that world’s Miguel comes up and playfully picks up the three with a stumble before throwing them on the couch with a laugh as his wife comes up and laughs behind him.

The family that Miguel dreamed about every night. The one he tried to achieve twice in different ways before it was stolen from him. The one he can’t help but crave with his beloved but knows it probably won’t happen.

“Cariño?….” His voice barely as whisper as he approaches his lover as she jumps in surprise.

Her teary eyes stared at him in alarm as a protective hand was placed on her stomach.

Miguel ignores that detail, believing that she was just mourning her lost baby boy, and gently placed his hand on her cheek, softly wiping away her tears.

Her eyes shine with untold anxiety as her choked sob caused Miguel to pull her into his chest. “Estoy aquí mi amor. Háblame....” He whispers softly into her hair as he wraps his arms tightly around her.

Her own grip traps him against her shaking body as she cries into his chest. Her worries slowly spilling out as she sobs, “ It’s not fair…”

“I know. “ Miguel mumbles as he rubs the base of her skull softly to provide some relief from the pain. “The universe is cruel…”

“It is…” she agrees as her breathing eventually evens out enough for her to pull away slightly to look up into his concern burgany gaze. “Miggy…Tengo algo que decirte... pero tengo miedo de que te enfades conmigo…” She admits with an unstable edge in her voice.

Miguel frowns at this as he cups her face. His concerned love filled eyes closes as he pulls her towards his lips. He kisses her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers. His eyes opening as an encouraging smile shines at him.

“No, mi sol, nunca me enfadaría contigo. Especialmente si te está causando tanto estrés.” He mutters as he feels his beloved’s hands wrap around his thick wrist, using his pulse to stablize her.

“Really?” She looks for reassurance as her swollen eyes searched his for any doubt.

“Yes. I’m sure…”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, beautiful!” A voice cheers as she enters the hospital room.

The new mother was propped up on a the hospital bed with her newborn son swaddled up in a soft blue blanket. She stops admiring the sleeping babe to smile up as April walks over with a bright smile and a beautiful bouquet of Carnations. Their petals were a soft pink with a baby blue ribbon wrapped around the glass vase. April places the arrangement down as she sits beside the bed.

“So that’s my grandchild?” She asks as she reaches over and gently caresses the bundle. Ben stirs for a moment before settling back down. The young mother nods and slowly moves the baby into her god mother’s arms.

The new grandmother accepts the baby happily as she leans back and gently coos at the sleeping Ben.

“You’re gonna have him spoiled.” She jokes as she admires watching how the older woman’s eyes light up as the baby’s face twitches.

“Grandbabies are for spoiling while children are made for scolding.” April quips back playfully as she giggles at her Goddaughter. “Oh, your boss brought those by the apartment. He said he hopes you’ll bring the little guy by the lab when he’s big enough.”

A confused frown takes over her face before she realizes that her mentor must have been the one she met. Working at Alchemax during her work study and pregnancy allowed her to get close to the board member that gave her the chance to work here. Him being a father himself, he took the pupil under his wing and helped her a lot during this time, even easing her worries with embarrassing tales of his own parenting blunders . He was more of a friend now than her mentor.

As April entertains herself with the infant, the mother reaches over and plucks the card placed on the top of the flower arrangement. She holds the card gently as she read the note, a soft smile.

‘Congratulations, kiddo. You made it to parenthood. You better bring that boy here to hang out with us because I need something more interesting to do than listen to Osborne’s voice all day. Signed, Dr. …. ‘

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Excuse me!!” A visual of Lyla appears beside the couple with an annoyed expression. Her irritability can be heard as she stares at the startled pair before glaring at Miguel.

“If you’re done being a couple of cry babies, I have some urgent news!” She snaps before pulling up a familiar red webbing with an odd addition wrapping around its nodes.

Miguel frowns in concern as he sees a blue web intertwining with the red nodes of his canon while his sunshine looked shocked.

This was not a normal anomaly…

“What is that?” Miguel asks while Lyla scoffs.

“Your canon is changing, but not from an anomaly.” She explains. “Your universe is fixing itself.”

“Fixing itself from what?” Miguel growls as he’s growing frustrated at the rude behavior the AI was expressing.

“From the bun in your sunshine’s oven.”

And with a quiet what, the big bad Miguel O’Hara falls over and passes out.

~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Estoy aquí mi amor. Háblame….—-I'm here, my love. Talk to me....

Tengo algo que decirte... pero tengo miedo de que te enfades conmigo…—I have something to tell you...,but I'm scared you are going to be upset with me…

No, mi sol, nunca me enfadaría contigo. Especialmente si te está causando tanto estrés.—-No, my sun, I would never be upset with you. Especially if its causing you this much stress.

~~~~~~~~~

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2K notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 7 months ago

Note

Can I get yandere sakamaki and mukami (I think that's their name) with a male reader who once were their friends, (during that time, they hide their feelings) but they accidentally kill him and one day they met him. After he was reincarnated and the moment they met is the same how they once first met

Example : reader met Shu in the garden, Shu will met reader when he is in the garden as well!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, paranoia, stalking, clinginess, violence, sadism, delusional mindset, isolation, abduction, manipulation, clinginess, hallucination, mentions of self-harm in Azusa's part, male reader

We meet once more...

Sakamaki Shu

🎵Just why had you been so adamant on leaving him that day in favor of pursuing your dreams? Yes, you had promised him to return to him in a few years time yet your words had sounded shallow in his ears. The argument that followed is something his mind forces him to replay even decades later. Normally the both of you had never been the type to let your emotions get the better of you but something about your words had irked him and his words had agitated you. As the emotions had risen higher both of you had gotten physical with each other as the argument escalated. It's when you had turned around with barely suppressed anger and concluded this conversation to be over that Shu had snapped. He had underestimated his own strength in that moment as he had pushed you, his ears ringing with wrath he had been feeling in the moment. Your body, only human and unable to handle his unexpected outburst of strength, flew down the stairs before you hit your head with a sickening crack on the ground, laying there motionlessly all whilst the blood created a bloody hallow around your head.

🎵Everything that even remotely reminds him of you has been removed from his life since then as he's unable to bear the emotions he's feeling whenever he lays eyes on something that triggers past memories. Shu completely withdraws himself from the memories of you in an attempt to cope with the pain yet there is no relief for him. He sees you in his sleep, sees you every time he closes his eyes. In one moment you are smiling, in the next he sees your limp body as his mind reminds him that it is his fault that you are dead. It's his loss of control that ended your life and it is from that day on that Shu decides to completely suppress all of his emotions as he deems feelings as something that will only lead to bad decisions. With the complete isolation from feeling comes the loss of any interest and motivation as Shu grows indifferent to anything that is happening around him. He blends out the world around him as he lives seclusively in his own world where the only loyal companions he has are music and the haunting memories of you.

🎵It starts raining on that night as he is lying on a bench in a park yet he doesn't care as cold raindrops hit his equally cold skin. Blue eyes lazily stare at the grey sky before he closes them, blending the sound of the rain out by listening to some music as he closes his eyes. Instantly his inner vision is filled with memories of you, a familiar bittersweet ache grasping his dead heart. He doesn't notice when the raindrops stop hitting him, he only notices when someone grasps his shoulders and shakes him carefully. His heightened senses, previously submerged in a world only he knows, return to him as he hears over the music he is blasting into his ears a voice calling out to him, his nostrils flaring up as he picks up another scent next to the smell of fresh water pouring out of the sky. A hauntingly familiar smell. He cracks open his eyes yet his vision remains filled with the sight of your face looking down on him worried, an umbrella shielding him and you from the onslaught of rain. His heart starts quivering as blue eyes gaze upon you as emotions he swore to burrow reanimate. A hand instinctively shoots out to grab you by the shoulder and keep you in place, his grip slightly shaky. You... How are you...?

Sakamaki Reiji

☕You've always been impressed with him. Reiji is a walking library personified and you have always sought out his help when you were struggling with your own research. Reiji had taken it up on himself for that very same reason to take you under his wing and teach you about everything as he helped you with your own studies, needing you to be on the same level as him to be a worthy partner. Deep down he just loved the praise and attention you gave him for his impressive knowledge, something he had never gotten from his own mother. One day he took you to the mansion, to his own room as he had been working on a science project and had wanted you to see the final results. A few minutes. He had only left you alone for a few minutes to fetch some documents when he had heard an explosion which had rang louder in his ears due to his heightened senses. The sound had come from his room. An acidic smell had filled his room when he had arrived, the aroma stinging his eyes with water. Maybe, just maybe, the sight of your lifeless body on the ground had been another reason, your face deformed as you had been standing right above the test tubes when the chemical reaction had occured.

☕Over the years Reiji has done all that he could to downplay his own emotions. After all all had been your fault for getting too curious and playing around with his set. He had warned you to not touch anything unless he was there with you so your death had merely been a result of your own stupidity. Yet the occasional snicker of people like Ayato or Laito has always gotten more under his skin than it should have as they sometimes joke about the scientific accident on that day. After all their older brother who has always portrayed himself as the smartest person of them all had been careless enough to let such an accident happen. Perhaps it is the perfectioniest housing inside of him that starts considering their words more and more. Could he have done more on that day to prevent this from happening? He starts considering this question more in quieter moments and painful realisation hits him when he does come up with ideas that could have prevented you from dying on that day. Why didn't he think of those ideas earlier? He's never able to live this failure down and deep down it shakes up his core beliefs.

☕He's in the library that day to borrow a new staple of books that have just recently been published. Normally he doesn't like going under humans that much and this library is an especially sore spot for him. Even if it has gone through some major changes over the decades, this is the place where he met you so long ago for the first time. He despises the feelings that always threaten to pour out of him when he is in this place so he hurries up to get all those books. Just as he is about to walk away with all of them in his arms though, a familiar scent invades his nostrils, one that has his brain short-circuiting for a brief moment. Then a pouty voice fills his ears, complaining how you wanted to borrow these books as well for your upcoming studies in college. His head wipes around, pink eyes narrowing in disbelief and shock as he sees a spitting image of you standing behind him, the same sulky expression on your face that you used to always give him. You're startled when he drops the pile of books and swiftly walks over to you, his glare antagonising you as gloved hands suddenly grab your face and pull you closer to scrutinise your features better. How is this possible?

Sakamaki Ayato

🥇Ayato always wanted and needed to have it his way. That is something you were familiar with with passing time. Here and there the two of you did get into arguments but it never really escalated as you were somewhat forced to take on the role of the calmer person due to Ayato's aggressive behavior at times. He liked having you with him all the time, showing you off as if you were a priced possession of his. In a way you were as Ayato deeply loved you and he couldn't have cared less about the fact that the both of you were the same gender. As long as he kept on being the best he could have whatever he wanted after all in his mind. It was his forceful and aggressive temper that ultimately led to your death though as you had started making friends with new people, something he couldn't have despised more. A shouting match between the two of you where he demanded from you to drop those pathetic friends of yours, a violent hit to your head as you dared to stand up properly against him for the first time since your friendship had started and a dull thud as your body fell to the ground, eyes glossy with the unmistakable haze of death. Why do you humans have to be so fragile?

🥇None of this is his fault! He didn't do anything wrong! Those are words he constantly yells at his brothers as soon as he even thinks that they're trying to bring the incident up to him. It's all your fault for being so stupid to go against him! You-you should have known better than going against his demands... No matter how often he repeats those accusations, no matter how loud he yells them at someone, they never get through to him as his heart remains unconvinced. Unconsciously he is probably aware that he is at least partially responsible for your death as he should have been better at controlling his own strength yet it is his own arrogance and pride that doesn't allow his mind this realisation. The following decades he tries desperately to feed into his own ego by picking up hobby after hobby, especially ones involving physical activity to master them and convince himself that it wasn't his own lack of control over his own body that was to blame on your death. Yet still he finds himself constantly turning around, green eyes searching for you when he scores a goal or masters a sport only to be reminded that you are dead as his mood instantly worsens.

🥇Sometimes Ayato finds himself still approaching a certain place that remains special in his heart. An abandoned building at the edge of town that has decayed over the years only more. It's a place where he met you for the first time many years ago and both of you used to play around here though he would always win against you and puff out his chest whilst proclaiming himself to be the best. He's been avoiding the ruined building ever since your death but in the last few years he has occasionally found himself walking down the streets to stare at it from outside the rusty fences. It is the sound of a ball being kicked against the walls that peaks his curiosity and his eyes suddenly narrow. This is his special place even though he hasn't entered in decades... Who dares to tread on it? He effortlessly climbs up the fences though he initially hesitates to step on the property again. His eyes are able to pick up the sight of the intruder from this high though, someone who looks very familiar. You on the other hand nearly jump out of your skin when he storms over to you and grabs you by the hem of your shirt. Is this a fucking joke?? If it is, he is everything but amused!

Sakamaki Kanato

🧸Kanato has attached himself to you from the moment you gained his obsessive interest. After all besides Teddy he had no one else in his life so he was ecstatic and giddy to have finally found someone who could care for him and spend time with him. It has never been easy to deal with Kanato and his explosive and highly sensitive emotions. The worst thing that came out of it was the isolation that came with being Kanato's victim of obsession. A situation that had always been very dangerous turned into pure peril when he threatened to kill the person you had recently gotten close too, clutching his plushie tightly against his chest as he did so. Why would you betray him like this in the first place? He thought that you were happy with him... Isn't he more than enough for you? You're so greedy and selfish!! Your mistake on that day was trying to reason with him even though no logic would have worked on Kanato on that moment as the accusations piled up. You didn't love him! You wanted to leave him! He didn't want that... He didn't want to be left alone... That's why he killed you on that day in a frenzy as his hysteria got the better of him and stabbed you to death.

🧸He kept your corpse and pretended that you were still alive until the scent of rotting flesh threatened to shatter his sanity and he had to burn you. Unable to live without you though he instantly created a life-sized doll of yours and dressed it up with the clothes he still had of you so that it would even smell like you. Everything continued as if you were still there as his brain couldn't accept the reality that you had died and that he had been the one who had done it. Yes, in death they couldn't take you away from him but he hadn't considered in the moment of hysteria that he couldn't have you anymore either. As if to brush over this moment as if it had never happened he acted like you were still alive as he held tea parties and wheeled the puppet around the mansion, even taking you to meals where he tried to feed you. None of his other brothers spoke up and mentioned his deteriorating mental health as Kanato's mind created the delusion that you were still there as he even hallucinated that the puppet was speaking to him and answering his question. It was all a delicate delusion though that needed not to be shattered under any circumstances or else he would snap and turn into a maniac.

🧸Nothing has happened. You were never gone. A protective shield for his mind to not completely shut down. He's currently outside in a field of flowers as the moon shines in the sky, collecting some bouquets for the next tea party he plans to hold at midnight with you again. When he looks up though, he lets out a strangled sound when his eyes land on your form walking relaxed around outside, a cookie in your mouth as you hold a packet filled with sweets you just bought in town. For a short moment there is a crushing dread of realisation threatening to shatter him yet his mind pulls up its walls in the last moment. Cold hands grasp your own and you nearly get a heart attack as you turn around only to see a pale and sick-looking man standing right behind you, asking you with a trembling voice what you are doing outside. Both of you are about to have a tea party and you were supposed to wait for him. Then his eyes land on the packet of sweets which you dropped on the ground. If you wanted new sweets you could have just told him instead of leaving without his permission... Well, he'll punish you later. For now the both of you should return to the mansion.

Sakamaki Laito

🎹Laito saw the fact that the both of you are of the same gender not as a hurdle and more like a new and exciting adventure waiting to be uncovered by him. After all he truly couldn't care less about what gender you are. He's just taking it for what it is and goes for what he desires without any hesitation. Though he does understand that the time period the both of you are living in wasn't very accepting of couples of the same sex at the time. He didn't need their approval though as all he would have really needed to do was whisk you away and keep you in the mansion where hw ould have been able to do whatever he desired to do with you. Jealousy had already led him to kill people his mother had taken as temporary lovers and it was jealousy that fueled the crime of him murdering your secret lover and by accident you as well when he found out that you had kept the relationship a secret from him though the way you had reeked of someone else had given it away. He hadn't intended to stab you but when you had tried to fight against him to defend your already half-dead lover, he accidentally drove the knife right through your heart.

🎹To this day he still blames your lover for your death. He didn't let them touch you when you bled out on the ground as he stomped on their hand and broke all their bones in it, didn't listen to their pleas as he had twirled the knife around in his hand with a new icy ire burning in his green eyes and he didn't even stop torturing them long after their heart had stopped beating. Initially Laito simply tried to dismiss his feelings for you now that you were gone and tried to move on. He whored around with other people from women to men to everything else as if to convince himself that perhaps his feelings for you hadn't been anything special to begin with as it might have been simply a fleeting moment of excitement and ecstasy yet his mind always drifts to you whenever his tongue is in the mouth of someone else. There is a sick feeling in his stomach whenever he undresses someone or his current companion touches him suggestively and he gets no pleasure and relief whenever he fucks someone for as soon as the moment of ecstasy passes by his mind is overcome with a disgust he didn't know he could feel. Temporary freedom only lasts for a few seconds before he's back where he started.

🎹On that night he finds himself going once again through all pubs in town in search for those few seconds of blissful forgetfullness, a dangerous addiction he has developed to escape from the clutches of disgust and guilt. The smell of alcohol is especially bitter when he hits up the bar where he met you nearly half a century ago, green eyes darting around in search of his next victim. That's when his eyes are drawn to a figure sitting alone on the counter and from behind their silhoutte reminds him painfully much of you. His feet move on their own as he steps closer to the counter and the closer he gets, the more a sweet fragrance of blood invades his nose and mind. Green eyes narrow as he lays a hand on the shoulder of the person who turns around surprised when feeling his palm. For the first time in his life Laito is unable to come up with a witty reply as he stares into your face, in disbelief at who he is looking at. His grip subconsciously tightens on your shoulder as if not wanting to let you go and it is only when you let out an uncomfortable wince that he snaps out of it. A smooth grin covers up his shock as he slides down the sit next to you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory glint as he offers to order you a few more drinks.

Sakamaki Subaru

⬜Subaru has always considered himself to be an unwanted monster that would only hurt the people he cares about which is why he has closed his heart so that he may never get attached to anyone only to be reminded of how unwanted he really is. It's painful for him to see how you slowly peel him out of his shell as emotions he has troubles to properly grasp bloom inside of him. It is all so agonising, confusing and somewhere in between that it is even a bit beautiful yet he is wavering, unsure whether to trust you with his heart. He should have never trusted you to begin with. Of course you wouldn't want him. The pain and heartbreak that assaults him the moment he finds out that you have already a lover and plan to propose to them tear his heart out of his chest and the sheer agony that comes with it has him entering a screaming rage he cannot control. His vision is simmering red as his wrath takes over and has him lashing out. His hands are coated with blood, your blood, when he comes to his senses only to be plunged into his next despair as he realises that he lost complete control and killed not only your lover but also you.

⬜The stench of blood never leaves his hands nor does the sickening warm and sticky feeling of it. He swears that it's still there, reeking and reminding him that he truly is a monster destined to kill anyone important to him. Sometimes he spends an hour washing and rubbing his hands until they are raw to clean himself of that cursed smell and feeling yet it is a mark that stays with him to remind him of his grave sin. Subaru withdraws himself completely from the outside for a while and hides in his room, locks himself away as if thinking that he is a beast that has to be put behind bars. He most likely thinks that he is. The agony and the grief comes in periods. Sometimes he manages to push it all down so that only his heart is aching and sometimes the walls break into pieces and the flood of emotions bursts out of him. Hot and salty tears cascade down his cheeks as a scream of anguish escapes his lips as furniture is shattered and walls receive cracks as he violently punches around him until he calms down and sits in the destruction his anger has caused with dull eyes.

⬜Sometimes he even neglects taking care of the roses in the garden, his confidence to care for things weaker than him utterly shattered as he thinks of himself as incapable of even nurturing the flowers. It takes him time until he slowly starts picking up this hobby of his again though he remains distant and cold to everyone else around him, his roses the only thing he seems to care about anymore. Sometimes he visits a florist in town to buy some new buds to plant into the garden of the mansion, although he always hurries with his shopping as this shop brings back too many memories. It is there though that his heart blossoms once again because as soon as he walks in he spots you arranging flowers into bouquets, your eyes meeting his as you greet him cheerfully. He stops right there, his body no moving a muscle as if subconsciously afraid that as soon as he moves, he'll do something terrible. His emotions leave him trembling as he can't help the stinging tears threatening to escape his eyes all whilst you give him a concerned look as he feels his control slowly slipping away from him. Shit! Why after all of this time?

Mukami Ruki

📘Ruki has always liked to give you more trust due to the fact that you were also a man as he had lost faith in the loyalty of women after his own mother left his father and him for another man, leading inevitably to the downfall of his life. You were supposed to be better than this... You weren't supposed to also leave him behind... Yet his world is shaken when it is revealed to him that you have accepted an apprenticeship far away from the town he is residing in with his other brothers, oblivious to his own horror as you deliver him the news whilst looking so excited. Are you really so selfish that you would prioritise your own dreams over him? All Ruki wanted was to prevent you from leaving, all he intended to do was to weaken your body with drugs so that you wouldn't be able to take the long journey to the new town. A twinge of paranoid fear caused him to put in too much of the drugs into your food though as he wanted to be sure that they'd do their job which led him to give you an overdose that ultimately led to your death.

📘Responsibilities have always rested on his shoulders as he is essentially the leader of the Mukami brothers and so he intends to focus on his duties instead of taking the time to mourn. He tells himself that he shouldn't mourn a person who wanted to abandon him in the first place and that you probably never loved him to begin with yet even to the eyes of his brothers it is obvious that Ruki is suffering. As soon as they attempt to console them though he shuts them up as he insists with a slightly clenched jaw that he is completely fine and that they are worried over nothing. On the inside he feels like he is rotting away though and as much as he tries to push that thought away, the emptiness that is crying out inside of him becomes harder to blend out until one day Ruki breaks down for a moment, leaving the rest of his brothers to care for him on that day as he just spends his time being a mess before he shakily puts himself together the next day, making all of his brothers swear that they never mention your name again nor his outburst.

📘For decades no one in the mansion mentions your name and Ruki continuously tells himself that this is for the best as he wants to bury you in the past. There is no remedy for the bittersweet memories though that have been haunting him ever since your death nor for the slimy dread that clings to him whenever he realises that it is his own fault that you died. He's on the other side of the street when he happens to glance over to the other side, staring through the windows of a pharmacy that has been there since nearly 200 years. He remembers the place very well since he met you there for the first time and he remembers the place well because he purchased the ingredients for the drug that ultimately killed you in the same store. In there everything began and also ended. Truly poetic, isn't it? It's not his memories that cause him to stop though as he stares at the pharmacy. It's the sight of a familiar figure that has his body pausing and his throat tightening. He's rushing over to the store in the next second, almost experiencing a tunnel vision as he can only focus on you. He slams the package of pills you've purchased right out of your hands, visions of your dead body haunting him.

Mukami Kou

🎤Kou has never really given much of a care that both of you were of the same gender. He's been sexually explored by other people as a young child and for that knows firsthand of the evil that others carry in their hearts, regardless of their sex. It's his ability to see through the true heart of people that has him enamored with you as he realises that you have a pure heart which allows him to give you his full trust. One day though you confess to him that your parents have become aware of your friendship with him, precisely of Kou's feelings for you which you remain oblivious to at the moment and have threatened to disinherit you if you do not distance yourself from him. That is when Kou makes a plot to get rid of your parents as he won't tolerate anyone to get in the way of him and you. All was carefully planned out. He'd lure you away before setting your parents house on fire at night so that they'd die in there yet you figure his plan out. The words you yell at him that night before rushing into the burning house will haunt him forever as you admit that you wish you'd never met him before you try to save your parents only to die together with them.

🎤He could have stopped you. He should have stopped you. You were only a human after all whilst he is a vampire. It's your words that completely froze him though and disabled him to work properly as his mind went into numbing shock after having heard your words. He wanted you to take those words back yet you died in the fire and left those words that told him that he was unwanted by you as an eternal curse that has been sticking with him ever since. Those words echo inside his head and for the first years following your death they drag him down into a hysteric depression. He cannot go to sleep at all as your disappointed and angered face haunts his vision, your voice telling him that he is someone you never wished to have met over and over again so that he wakes up not even half an hour after he has gone to bed, in tears and babbling incoherent words. He writes a lot of songs about you but never finishes them as he either draws a blank and starts breaking down in tears or rips them apart as his emotions get the better of him. Not even his brothers can help to piece his broken self together.

🎤He's sitting outside on that day, dull eyes observing a lake where the both of you used to hang out often back when you were still alive. He's on his own, something he hasn't been in decades as he hasn't left the mansion since your death and was too broken to be on his own which left his brothers no choice but look out more for him. There is nothing in particular on his mind as he gazes at the lake until a melody catches his ears. Normally he would have just blended it out like he has done music a lot in those years since your death yet there is something very familiar as he listens as someone plays the strings of the guitar. That's a melody you always used to play... Suddenly it's like someone lit a fire under him as he jumps up, eyes flying over the field surrounding the lake until he covers a small figure also sitting here, playing on a guitar they brought with them. Initially he wants to demand from where they know that melody as this is something that only belonged to you and for that shouldn't be played by anyone else but poisonous words die down when he catches a better sight of them and realises that it is you. He stands there motionlessly, listening to the song as tears start to escape his eyes.

Mukami Yuma

🌱Yuma has been sceptical about the whole situation from the moment he found out that he had feelings for you. Not necessarily because the both of you were men as he had always been an outcast and would have been considered that all the more if the humans would have figured out that he was now also a vampire. It was more the aspect of being in love that made him somewhat doubtful as he had quite an iffy mindset about it all. You didn't know at that time that he was a vampire and he knew what the rest of the village you lived in thought of creatures of the night. Who was to tell that you wouldn't try to cast him out in the name of god as well if you were to discover his true nature? Unfortunately that was exactly what happened and your reaction was as fearful as expected as you instantly tried to get away from him. He tried to explain it to you, tried to get you to listen but you had been indoctrinated with the same nonsense all other villagers believed in. Shut up... He just wanted you to shut up for a moment as he pressed his hands over your mouth, applying too much pressure and accidentally breaking more than just a few bones that were the reason for your death.

🌱It was on that day that he became aware just how much stronger he had gotten since he had been turned into a vampire as he held your limp body in his arms. He doesn't want to be consoled by any of his brothers though as he turns around or growls at them to shut up as soon as he senses that they want to talk with him about the accident. Yuma doesn't try to blame anyone else for this though as he acknowledges that this is solely his fault. Your reaction was to be expected and he should have known best just how much strength he possessed. There is no chance he wants to give himself to grieve though. He has never openly bemoaned anyone before and for that he doesn't quite know how to do so. Instead he spends a lot of time in his garden and tends to his vegetables and plants, though he can't help but always be reminded that those fragile things could be even easier ripped apart by his hands than you were. Yuma needs a long time until finally he starts cracking as he has just tried to bear the sorrow up until that point and even he is startled by the silent tears that drip down his face without any warning.

🌱There are some pretty cherry blossom trees in a forest near the city and they have been there even longer than the village built nearby. Yuma visits them once a year when the pink and delicate flowers are in full bloom, a little tradition he has been carrying on even if you have been gone for over a century now. Some of the pink petals rain down on him on that night as he walks through the little valley of the trees, the fresh scent of the blossoming flowers an aroma that surrounds the entire place. At this late at night it is rather rare for people tos visit this place which is why he is mildly annoyed when he catches sight of someone sneaking around, his mood instantly ruined as he wanted to have a peaceful stroll for himself. Until a breeze passes through the forest, carrying next to the scent of cherry blossoms another aroma with it. His previously worsened mood is instantly replaced with shocked disbelief as he instantly recognises that smell. It only takes him a few large strides to close the distance between him and the other person. He suddenly appears behind you like a large and looming shadow, his eyes narrowed as he grabs one of your arms to prevent you from running.

Mukami Azusa

🔪Azusa has never had the courage to tell you about his growing feelings for you. Yes, he has always been very clingy and attached to you but he has been like this even when his feelings for you were still largely platonic. His behavior did increase though when a different kind of love started blossoming inside of him. Truly, he doesn't care about who his darling is as long as he feels comforted and safe in their presence which is precisely what you give him. Perhaps if he would have found the courage to confess to you things would have turned out differently as he instead has to bear witness how someone else confesses their love to you before he does. He wants to plead you to not accept but his tongue feels like it has turned to led as he instead has to watch how you accept their confession and start a relationship with them. All he intended to do was to threaten your partner a bit yet they had to start acting so rudely and hurt his own feelings whilst flaunting that you only loved them before he started attacking them. You had heard the noises inside the house, tried to stop him and ended up taking the fatal blow.

🔪His brothers find him sitting in the bloody mess of two corpses, his own body clinging to yours as he keeps on begging you to wake up again, whispering you that your now cold skin terrifies him just as much as the vacant expression in your eyes. They have to tear him carefully away from your body, something Azusa can only object weakly to as he begs his brothers to not separate you from him. He loses all will to live for a while as he asks his brothers shakily if they could stab him in the same place where he stabbed you, tears in his eyes as he admits that he was the one who killed you and even if his brothers do try to console him and tell him that it was a terrible accident, Azusa is inconsolable. He's closely monitored for a long time as his older brothers all fear that he might try to harm himself somehow. Azusa himself withdraws himself from reality as he spends most of the time hidden under his blanket, rarely getting up and not speaking for months. The only sounds he makes are those of silent sobs, the tears never seeming to dry off no matter how much and how long he cries quietly.

🔪It takes him years before he gathers the strength to leave the mansion again and whilst he avoids the place where he took your life vehemently, he finds himself often returning to the location where he met you for the first time in an attempt to think of the happy memories. It's a random alleyway where you found him for the first place and offered ro bandage his wounds he had inflicted on himself on that day. As if hoping that you'll return if he does it again, Azusa often cuts himself in the same alleyway before sitting down and waiting there, looking like a wet cat with no place to return to. Some people do approach him but he ignores them since none of them are you and if they bother him too much normally all it takes is a rather dangerous look in his eyes and the flash of his knife for them to disappear. Then one day you do appear though, 80 years after your death and Azusa can barely believe what he is looking at as you ask him worriedly if he needs some band-aids for his cuts. In the next moment he is suddenly clinging to your legs, tears dropping down his eyes as he sobs out apologies for an accident you do not know of.

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