#tagging them bc I’m not about to say my moms name

[valewritessss]

Feliz Cumpleaños Mami💗💗

[great-tusk]

ughhh I need to stop having mental breakdowns over little things.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

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

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

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

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

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

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

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

➸ masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

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

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

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

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for no flirting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Bros.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels like throwing up. 

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

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

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

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

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

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

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think about fucking you all the time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10:34am you: do it then

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

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

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

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

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

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

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

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

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

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

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

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

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

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—” He stops himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

[the end]

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

➸ masterlist

taglist:

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

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

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

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

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@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[httpsserene]

I’m begging you, please write something for us Lance girlies.

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭-𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞? 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝! - 𝐥𝐬. 𝟏𝟖 | 𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐏𝐍𝐅 |

𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝟒𝟎𝟒: 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

summary: it’s the most wonderful time of the year! you swear there’s love in the air. however, your friends, family, and fans think you need intensive therapy. content warning: vacation romance. girls trip. love at first sight. fluff. profanity. mentions of reader’s previously failed relationships. reader has a mom and sister. sibling dynamics (bullying). friendship. delusion. reader has a puppy. all photos are from pinterest.  pairing: lance stroll x fem!black!reader

from serene: i wish peace, love, and happiness on everyone’s soul…and i hope my unexpected lance stroll smau series distracts you from the torment of the race weekend. LOL xxx < 3

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents | series toc | next ↻

twitter • ynplays • december 11th

imessage • yn and friends

instagram • ynplays • dec12th • winter wonderland ⚑

liked by kyedae, taytagames, yourmom, and 13,244 others

ynplays: brr 🥶 if only their was a 6-foot, brown-eyed, strong man to keep me warm 😏🥺

tagged yoursister, yourbestie, yourfriend1, yourfriend2

view comments

user1 so it starts 😣

➥ user2 please let this be a normal vacation!!!

➥ user3 with yn??? no way

yourmom i didn't raise you to act like this…

➥ yoursister mom idk where you went wrong with her

➥ ynplays she let me have unmonitored access to the internet

➥ user4 ah that makes sense 🙂‍↕️

➥ user5 that'll do it mhm

yourbestie please can we go inside the fucking resort my ass is freezing as im typing this

➥ yourfriend1 u just mad bc u slipped and busted your ass

➥ yourbestie would you be mad if i punched you so hard yo nose broke?

➥ user6 heyyYYY come getcho friends yn!!!

➥ user7 they about to crash out 😳😳😳

user8 lots of athletes like to go skiing and snowboarding during their winter breaks 👀

➥ yourfriend2 DO NOT give her any ideas, pls im begging you 🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️🙏🏽🙏🏽

➥ user8 american football players, basketball players, racecar drivers, hockey players, tennis players...😏

➥ ynplays omg ao3 fic, meet-cute, 654k words, love at first sight, strangers to lovers, no angst, happy ending, hockey player x yourname romance irl???

➥ yourfriend2 i begged,,,

twitter • ynplays • december 12th

instagram • ynplays • dec13th • the slopes ⚑

liked by yoursister, qtcinderella, yourbestie, and 15,093 others

ynplays: sega’s first snow and my first day on the slopes 🥹🐶

tagged yoursister, yourbestie, yourfriend1, yourfriend2, segagenesisthedawg

view comments

user9 is your puppy named after the video game franchise, SEGA?

➥ ynplays yes! sega made mortal kombat which is my fav fighting game, so i named her after the company :)

➥ ynplays also, you can't forget about sonic and persona (super monkey ball too!!!)

➥ user10 me n the boys go crazy on super monkey ball

yourbestie pretty girl < 3

➥ yoursister if i was a man...mhm 😈

➥ yourfriend1 why do u always say some weird shit

➥ user11 turning your family tree into a circle energy

user12 are you just skiing or are you going to snowboard too??

➥ ynplays i want to do both! starting with skiing bc it's a "ski" resort ig? but i can't wait to try a board :)

➥user13 sounds like a fun! hope you have a nice vacay < 3333

user14 YNNNN ⚠️⚠️ you should get some of those plush turtles that you put on your butt so it doesn't hurt as much when you fall ⚠️⚠️

➥ user15 yes omg like this comment so she can see ittttt

➥ user16 those cushions literally saved my ass when i went boarding last year fr

➥ ynplays should i get one? do they sell them anywhere near the resorts?

➥ user16 yes, they should!

igstory • ynplays uploaded!

[caption; well,,,i think i need skiing lessons. hope the man i ran into has less snow down his shirt than i do.]

user17: eating shit is a staple of learning to ski

user18: the man 😀🫨 ynplays: i think it was the same dude who opened the door for me !!! user18: babe that's fate atp i don't make the rules

yourfriend2: i think you're about to have your meet-disaster. look up, he's skiing our way ynplays: oGM WH$T TH3!?!!

twitter • ynplays • december 13th

igstory • ynplays uploaded!

[caption1; he said i was a total loss at skiing and taught me how to snowboard instead ;p] [caption2; is it love if he buys you $25 ski resort hot cocoa?]

user19: oh no you're down BAD

yourfriend1: idk if it’s love but it's a stupid purchase 👏🏽 i can tell you that much

yoursister: no the fuck it's not love 🤬

user20: $25 HOT COCOA?!! outrageous user20: you better marry that man ynplays: you understand me on an subatomic level

instagram • yourbestie • dec13th • the shredder ⚑

liked by ynplays, yoursister, yourfriend2, and 8,764 others

yourbestie: we’re all way better at this snowboarding thing, even yn. thanks to her “brown eyed beau” 🤨 (her name not mine)

tagged yoursister, yourbestie, yourfriend1, yourfriend2, ynplays

view comments

user21: oh them drinks look thirst quenching 🤤🤤🤤

➥ user22: i wish free refills were implemented worldwide

user23: they would have to chain me up in my room if i were at this resort...i'd be foaming out the mouffff 😮‍💨🥴

➥ user24: bro what 🤣🤣🤣

➥ user25: think it's time you get castrated lil bro

➥ user26: watchlist type beat 🫵🏽🫵🏽🫵����

yourfriend1: i thought this was supposed to be a girls trip :(

➥ yourfriend2: it never is with yn unfortunately

➥ yourbestie: FRFR this turned into the girls....and l****

➥ ynplays: don't be fucking rude 😒

➥ ynplays: he payed for our drinks and taught me how to shred ☹️

user27: "l****" ???? alright agents let's find out who this mfer is

➥ user28: *brushes off my criminal justice degree*

➥ user29: i've compiled a list of five letter boy names that start with L on a google doc and male celebs who have posted any ski resort pics or those who implied they were going

➥ user30: i have a google doc of all the male athletes who have posted any skiing/snowboading/resort pics AND athletes who implied they were going somewhere cold for holiday

➥ user29: ,,,i like your style. let's merge our docs 🤝

➥ user31: post the link on twitter and let's fucking get to it

© httpsserene 2024

[san8ny]

if you don’t mind can you do mom Dina x fem mom reader who meet through a mommy and me class (both of them are single moms bc I don’t like cheating 😭)

YOU’LL HAVE TO MISS ME - Dina x Fem! Reader

an: first dina stuff, i love her sm :(

—

Grief was a funny thing.

It was both subjective, and difficult.

Anyone can feel grief, yet deal with it differently than otthers would.

Before you sister passed, did you have the best relationship? Fuck no.

So, why did you feel obligated to drop everything and take in her bastard child?

Gurbles and burps interrupt your bleak thoughts as you look at the child tiredly through your view-finder, car parked infront of a place commonly recommended to you.

Once the minute has passed and you feel lesser anxiety, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exit the vehicle, opening the backseat door to your 5-month old niece, strapped in her baby carrier securely with a pacifier in her mouth.

You stare at her blankly, trying to fight the small smile that makes it’s way to your face as you pick her up, up and at ‘em, putting her on your hip as you gather her small bag of items on your other shoulder. This mommy shit was starting to grow on you. Just a few months ago, you were living in your cramped studio apartment with barely anything in the fridge to feed yourself, and now you had filled it to the brim with formula and starter food.

You’re sat in a circle with other women, mostly olders with you and some other girl being the obviously younger ones. Some women stare at you in what seems like respect, and others in blatant pity, probably whispering in contempt about how disgusting it is you got knocked up so young.

If only they knew, a tick reads in your head.

There’s an overly joyous women leading this, who you can only assume is the instructor, asking you all in an overly-babying and condescending voice what your names were.

Once it gets to you, you blink a few times, gathering what to say.

“We’re wearing name-tags though..”

“The babies can’t read, silly!”

Your face turns a shadely plum as you clear your throat, not what I meant..

“Right..”

You eventually say your name begrudgingly, the baby sitting on your lap letting out another comedically timed burp that you only softly pat her back at.

“Alright, now, we’ll turn to our shoulder partners and introduce eachother to one another!”

You nod to yourself as turn to the woman besides you, a child slightly older than your own sitting on her thigh.

“Uh, what’s your name.” You ask, tone less than a general asked question. She answers nonetheless— not that she had a choice.

“Dina.”

You nod in acknowledgment, looking anywhere but at her to fill the quiet gap. She was pretty to say the least, looks ‘round your age..maybe even slightly older, but not dramatically. You tell her your own name as you take out a warm bottle for your niece from your cross -bag.

“How old is he?” Dina whispers, leaning back now with her child on the blanketed floor, crawling.

He? Can you even blame her? The baby was wearing an ugly onesie your ex at the time found at a Five&Below when you initially (abruptly) were granted custody which albeit, was a tad too big for her at the time but came in handy now, reminding you bittersweetly of how you had to drop out of college to become a mother quickly.

“Oh, uh, she’s 5 months right now.”

Dina looks at you with slightly widened eyes. “5 months? You look great..” She somewhat compliments.

You thank her, awkwardly chuckling as you place the infant laid on the blanketed floor back into your arms securely,

“They have a dad’s day next week, y’know?” She informs you, smiling as she not-so subtly drinks you in,

“Thank you for telling me, but, uh, she doesn’t have a dad.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah..”

Dina looks at you solemnly, “I’m so sorry for your loss..”

“No! No! He’s not dead, I mean, I wouldn’t know him in the first place but—“

“Oh! Well, that isn’t anything to be shamed for! Sexual liberation is progression, you’ll find him one day—”

“This is my niece.” You finally get across, massaging your temples at the misinterpreting while Dina’s mouth gradually forms an ‘O.’ You remind yourself of why these sessions were going to be a pain in the ass.

Speaking of sessions, this thing was longer than you expected..

Dina speaks up again shortly after a while, apologizing for her quick mouth as you wave a hand in dismissal, it wasn’t her fault, but she felt some sort of guilt for her brashness. “It’s fine, I get it all the time. Not easy explaining but i’m use to it.”

“Yeah, I get you. My uh, ex-boyfriend died some time ago, so i’m constantly assuming anyone who’s in here has got a similar situation.” Dina says softly, her tone a bit bittersweet as she recalls her former, now deceased, partner

Ah..

You both begin conversing as the time goes by— swapping eachothers babies to hold, talking about backstories, etc— coming here was semi worth it.

Eventually, Dina and you exchange numbers when the time comes, you bite your chapped lips as she walks herself to her ride, a red-head in the drivers seat who taps away at the steering wheel quite impatiently. Girlfriend maybe? You tsk at the discouraging thought, walking yourself to your own car and getting your, now asleep, niece inside her car-seat.

“MILFS, huh..” you murmur to yourself, fiddling with the scrapling of paper with her digits on as you start the engine before throwing it out the window. Fuck were you saying? You didn’t have time for this shit.

“We don’t have time for this, huh?” You murmur to the baby, smiling softly as you begin driving.

[strawberrykidneystone]

I Was Gone for Two Seconds

garrus vakarian x fem! shepard

summary: in purgatory, shepard steps away for a second and her stool was taken

a/n: if it sounds like that one scene from victorious you're right and you should say it #mybad

tags: tooth rotting fluff, set in ME3, catty comments (sorry i’ve been rewatching dance moms), garrus being oblivious as always, shepard being rightfully pissed (smh), species hostility kinda???, reassurance, lovey dovery gross stuff, ooc bc garrus says ily (LMAO), busy couple making time for each other ):

ao3 version

shepard was sat at the bar in purgatory with her legs crossed in a little black dress and heels, nursing a purple drink that she had already forgotten the name of. she was waiting for garrus to arrive to have some semblance of a proper date for the two of them. however, knowing him, he most likely got caught up with calibrating the weapons in the normandy for the umpteenth time, but she didn’t blame him nor was she mad. in fact, she had arrived later than their decided time as well since she got caught up in her own paperwork.

suddenly, she felt a tap on her right shoulder. she looked over, but saw no one. she turned her head to the left and saw the face of her favorite turian with a nervous smile on his face.

“sorry for running late shepard, the primarch needed help with-”

shepard leaned in and cut him off with a kiss, pulling back and patting his chest with a smile, “garrus i barely got here, you’re fine big guy, i get it.”

garrus’ shoulders relaxed and a sigh of relief left his mouth, settling into the stool next to her, “thank you sweetie, i can’t promise that it won’t happen again, but i can promise i’ll always make up for it.”

he had been holding a hand behind his back, bringing it forward to show to her with a blue blush creeping up his neck. shepard looked down at his hand and gasped, picking up the gift and examining it, “a thermal scope! i’ve been wanting to try one of these babies out forever!”

shepard grinned like a kid on christmas and threw her arms around garrus’ neck, kissing his cheek with an emphasized “mwah”. garrus wrapped his arms around shepard’s waist and purred with her in his arms, looking at her with love in his eyes.

“i’m glad you like it.”

“like it? i love it.”

“more than you love me?”

“know your limits vakarian.”

the two laughed together and shepard let go of the embrace, garrus’ hand remaining on her thigh with her hand over it. he waved the bartender over and ordered a drink. the two of them chatted for a while about anything and everything, talking to each other as if they were the only ones in the room. shepard excused herself to go "powder her nose", aka she's had to pee for the last 10 minutes and couldn't stand it anymore.

when she returned, she was met with a surprise.

a female turian was sitting on the stool that she had occupied not long ago, talking to garrus a little too enthusiastically for her liking. as shepard approached, she was able to hear their conversation.

"why don't you stick to your own species? that little human has nothing on a real turian woman."

garrus looked appalled and opened his mouth to say something, but shepard cleared her throat before he got the chance. her hands rested squarely on her hips, her eyebrows raised with her jaw tightened. the turian woman looked her up and down, then rolled her eyes, "speak of the devil."

"that's commander devil to you."

garrus laughed at that and covered it with a cough, letting shepard take the lead.

shepard plastered on the fakest smile she could and tilted her head, "sorry, but this little human couldn't help but notice that you took my seat. i’d like it back now."

the turian scoffed and slid out of the seat, shoulder-checking shepard as she passed her, "he's all yours, who wants a man with a damaged mandible anyways."

shepard balled her hands into fists before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, letting her fists go before walking up to garrus.

"shepard i'm so sorry, we were talking about the newest black widow that was released onto the market yesterday and then suddenly she changed the subject-" shepard cut off his rambling by taking his mandibles in her hands and kissing his lip plates, kissing all around his face before pulling back to look into his eyes, searching for any semblance of doubt in them. when she found none, she smiled reassuringly to him and rubbed her thumbs against mandibles.

garrus reached up and wrapped his hands around hers, turning his head to kiss her right palm before nuzzling his cheek against it. she knew he was being genuine, and even if she was blatantly flirting with him, shepard knew he would never pick up on it, that's for sure.

"for the record, i am one of those women who find scars attractive."

garrus laughed by letting a puff of air out of his nose and kissed her other palm, "for the record, i love my commanders a little devilish." shepard snorted and plopped down into her seat again. she leaned her elbow against the bar and resting her hand against her cheek.

"i love you vakarian."

"I love you too shepard."

"why don't we go back to the normandy and i can show you just how devilish i am," shepard said with an impish grin on her face.

"i wouldn't mind a little demonstration. i am a physical learner," garrus flirted back before quickly downing his drink.

shepard giggled before finishing the rest of her drink, standing up and grabbing his hand before leading him back to the Normandy. she glanced back just before they left purgatory and made eye contact with the turian woman from before, sticking her tongue out childishly as she led the love of her life back to their own home away from home.

notes: i'm actually happier with this piece than i thought i would be!! pls leave a comment if you want a part 12 with smut 👀 if i made any spelling or grammatical error pls lmk too

[raining-tulips]

hi! i just found your blog :) love your commonplace book scans! if you don’t mind me asking, could you give a more in-depth explanation of what commonplacing is exactly and what your process is? i’m intrigued and considering getting into it but i wouldn’t even know where to start! thanks a lot xx

Absolutely! So my commonplace is specifically all movies, qoutes, articles, tumblr/Instagram posts, book excerpts, etc. that either resonated with me or I think I'll want to reference later. That is the heart of what common placing is - saving things for later physically rather than digitally.

Some of these just pop up in my feed, and I'll hit the like or save button. If it's an article, it usually first pops up as a preview on my Instagram and I'll open the full article on my desktop than bookmark it in a specific folder for common placing.

Sometimes, when I want to actively find something out (say, about if perfume is really bad for the environment, or I want to look at author interviews because I just loved a book) I will go out and search for that information.

Then, usually once a week I compile everything I'd like to print - i print the sources bc my handwriting is messy - into a word document formatted for two columns. I try and hold off printing until i have a full page worth, or two full page worth.

For images, I have another word document (these are printed in color, and i usually have to jigsaw to fit as many images on the page as possible, so different word document). Same thing, I try and wait until I have a full page to print. Usually x2 a month. I sometimes will print with an HP sprocket but the quality is really bad and the pictures are thick so, it's for when I'm out of printer ink or I think a photo will look okay with a sorta...uneven look.

I use just a Staples brand journal, TruRed. Cheap and easy. I draw a line at the top so I can write the date, and in the future if I want to tag it with a colored sticker or something, I can. My layouts usually include divided space on either the left or right of a page. The article goes in the bigger open space, and then the source (always write your source!!) and any commentary goes in the smaller margins.

Commentary is usually why I wanted to print it, what it reminds me of or makes me think about, etc. What I think the argument was missing, etc. Can be as little or as much as you like. As emotional and deep or as plain-jane as you like. There are no rules!

I trim printed text and images with a 12 inch trimmer bc I've got wobbly hands, but some people just use a little (blanking on the name) exacto knife? Any 12 inch trimmer will do mine is expensive but I also scrapbook so I use it all the time.

I paste things in using a tape runner (again, because I scrapbook and found a tape runner and my mom sells scrapbook supplies they're very accessible to me). Some people use tape, washi tape, glue sticks (liquid glue I've never seen).

And yeah, then I just decorate and play around. It doesn't have to be pretty. It can be really pretty if you want - I'm motivated by aesthetics, so, I like mine to be a little pretty.

If you'd like to see how I actually put it together and why I print certain things, my YouTube channel is the place to go.

Some people tape in movie tickets, receipts from where they shopped or ate, pictures from daily life. Some people mix common-placing and journaling, so including diary entries about their day or about a topic they love, or their thoughts and feelings (I keep mine in a separate journal, explained in this video). Some people mix common-placing with bullet journal or planning. Some combine all three!

At the end I just use a printer scanner (HP Envy 5500, cheap) and post them online that way bc I love the look.

People who have other styles you might try and look at are @petite-gloom (an OG who inspired me and many others) @fakelavender , @teddybearsticker .

[likedovesinthewnd]

tysm for the tag @thecreelhouse you’re literally the sweetest and you’re so cool like i legit gasped when i saw the notif from you, i can’t lie.

❤︎ are you named after anyone?

i’m an 80’s baby so my mom named me after a character in young and the restless, which i find both hilarious and on brand for her.

❤︎ when was the last time you cried?

girl, today lmao! i thought i had lost my airpods a couple weeks back, and they’re literally my lifeline on most days so it’s been rough without them. anyway i was cleaning out my car today and found them! queue the tears! doesn’t take much for me tho lol

❤︎ do you have kids?

call me mother… bc i’m a whole ass mom

❤︎ do you play/have you played any sports?

i played field hockey all through hs, but that’s about it. i mostly did it for the uniforms, which included these super cute pleated skirts that we’d all hike up like the little whores we were ;)

❤︎ do you like sarcasm?

no…

❤︎ what do you notice about people when you meet them?

mostly how they treat others. that says a lot more about a person than the superficial.

❤︎ what’s your eye color?

brown brown

❤︎ scary movies or happy endings?

scary movies can have happy endings. what are final girls if not the embodiment of resilience, plus outliving everyone is kind of the happiest ending of all if you ignore the gore and ptsd of it all lol

❤︎ any talents?

i can throw down in the kitchen, i’m a beast at trivia, and i’m the world champ of faking it till i make it baybeee

❤︎ where were you born?

the hospital duh lol

❤︎ what are your hobbies?

i’m a voracious reader, i used to write but i’m way too chicken shit now, i love to cook (food is a love language period), i love building paper theaters, and i loooove lego forever and always.

❤︎ any pets?

i have a dog named johnny and a tortoise named coco. they’re my little rotten soldiers and i love them sm

❤︎ how tall are you?

5’3 but my attitude is like 6’5

❤︎ what are your favorite school subjects?

history and music theory

❤︎ what’s your dream job?

i simply do not dream of labor. we should all be laying in the sun eating fruit with our titties out. so i guess that or nothing.

no presh tags: @trashmouth-richie @eddiesdreamgirl @eddiesxangel @eiightysixbaby @taintedcigs @jeysbvck @luxurychristmaspudding @pedgito @justagalwhowrites

[twiafom]

i was tagged by kai @alkalinefrog for this tag meme thingy hiiiiiii

im also following the longer excerpt trend bc sorry mom i would jump off a cliff if my friends were doing it :(

Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

“Hey, Monkey, you got a sec?”

“Probably not. What do you want?” Technically a question, but Monk's voice is flat. He doesn’t look up from his... Well, it looks like some sort of tome. But Owen isn’t really a book kind of guy, so he doesn’t bother trying to identify it beyond that. He’s also pretty sure Monk doesn’t actually want an answer, but if he’s going to—technically—ask, then it’s not Owen’s fault if he gives one anyway.

“Just wanna show you something. Come on, it’ll be fun,” he says with a lazy grin. He leans an elbow on top of Monk’s seat, a ratty recliner in Khatt’s basement that probably had enough cushioning to be comfortable a couple decades ago.

Owen doesn’t need to see Monk’s face to feel the derision of his eye roll; he’s more than familiar with it by now. There’s something comforting about that familiarity—how it was born from the trials and tribulations that led them to the wonderful friendship of their present. He could almost sigh.

“If you take your pants off, I’m leaving.”

“I just wanted to know if I should see a doctor!” Owen pouts and drapes himself over the chair, just enough to annoy Monk to the perfect degree of distraction, but without getting his eyebrows burned off again. It’s a delicate balance. An art, practically. “Anyways, it’s cooler than that. Well, almost.”

Monk sighs and closes his—in Owen’s opinion, comically oversized—book with a loud thump. He turns to Owen, levels him with his most unimpressed stare—looking as unimpressed as Monk usually does is impressive in and of itself—and finally rises from the chair in a way that is actually, genuinely, a little bit intimidating.

“Make this worth my while.”

Owen grins.

tagging @emerialyncodevenice and anyone with a name starting with the letter m, older siblings, people who like festivals, people with kill counts, and cowboys

[cdragons]

Ok, so I’m a little delirious from NyQuil and congestion. But I thought of a possible HOTD fic idea that I would like some opinions on. I haven’t watched the show, but I love reading the fics. Jace and Aemond are my favorites to read about out of all of them.

So let’s say that reader’s mom was a childhood friend for both Alicent and Rhaenyra, and she was actually a very talented seamstress. Both Rhaenyra and Alicent were lowkey obsessed with reader’s mom and wanted her for themselves. But one day, reader’s mom got sick and died, and the only person that comes close to having the same talent in designing and sewing is the reader, her daughter. Alicent and Rhaenyra kind of latch onto reader bc they remind them so much of their mother. It goes to the point where Jace and Aemond have also developed obsessive feelings of love toward the reader. But the reader is very aware of the Royal family’s obsessive tendencies, and does everything she can to avoid them. She isn’t grateful for the attention, she’s terrified. She doesn’t want to be noticed, she just wants to do her work quietly who taking care of her ailing father. But as time passes, Jace and Aemond continue to obsess over the reader and keep trying to put her in compromising positions so that the reader would have no choice but be their personal seamstress that would stay by their sides at all times.

Jace is a very soft boy who wants to woo the reader. He wants nothing but you. Seducing you with warm kisses and kind words. Sometimes reader thinks he’s too soft, but he has his moments where he’s in command and truly like a dragon. It brings him into a whole different light. Reader can’t help but long for his warmth and wonder what it would feel like if he placed his beautiful and warm lips on her skin.

Aemond is a tremendous storm with a powerful temper, and he wants nothing more than to possess the reader’s everything, body and soul. He calls the reader horrible names, “slut,” “whore,” etc. He’s horrible, but sometimes he will be so vulnerable and let down the walls he puts up. Reader can’t help the ache she feels between her legs at the thought of his hands on her body.

Sexy times ensues, there may be some dp-ing, who knows?

Also Alicent and Rhaenyra don’t like reader’s dad, because her mom fell in love with him and they blame him for her dying.

Any thoughts? I’m very tempted to write this out, but what do y’all think?

Tagging: @valeskafics, @aphroditesmoon, @jacevelaryonswife, @barbiedragon, @its-actually-minicika, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @foxyanon

[shedoessoshedoes]

nobody loves me like you love me

Hi hello and welcome to me trying to write about a new ship in a new fandom 😱😱😱😱😱 it's really scary guys. This one's for Book Lovers by Emily Henry because I'm a slut for Charlie Lastra and for engagements. I hope you like it :) Tell me if you do!

wc: 2,753

tw: nsfw

tagging: no one yet bc idk who likes these books eep 🫣

The party’s almost over when Charlie pulls me aside. It was a raging success, celebrating the release of Frigid, Tala’s birthday, and Goode Books’s upswing all at once. Charlie and I flew into Asheville two days ago and are staying for another three; even though our lives are planted firmly in New York, our family is here, in Sunshine Falls, and there’s only so long I can go without seeing Libby, Brendan, and the girls and Charlie can go without seeing his parents. It’s still strange to wake up in a New York that Libby does not inhabit, but the transition was easier than I anticipated. My new job at Loggia helped, distracting me with a heap of manuscripts and a learning curve even a shark struggled to keep up with. When Charlie came back, he helped me, too, holding me when I’d break down after a call with Libby left me feeling a little too empty, taking me to get Thai when I felt like I had no one left for me in the city, and reminding me every day in that Charlie Lastra way of his that it was okay to make choices that are the best for me, not just best for everyone else. “Stephens,” he told me  frequently, “you don’t compromise on anything else. You negotiated this ending for yourself. Enjoy it.” 

I look over to him now, our hands intertwined as we wander through the meadow behind the cabin, where we’re staying for this trip (Charlie graduated from his racecar bed and although we love Libby’s Number Three, neither of us were interested in being up all night with the baby at her house) his capsule wardrobe looking as perfectly polished as ever, even in the June heat. He catches me looking and smiles the smile I love the most, the one that tells me he has a secret tucked up into the corner. “What?” he asks. 

“You know that these shoes aren’t made to go frolicking through a field, Charlie.” I tell him. “I’m planning a way to extract revenge.”

“Stephens, if you feel the same way at the end of this frolic, I’ll let you extract whatever revenge you’d like.” 

I mock gasp. “You’d let me publish Bigfoot erotica under your name?” 

He laughs, shakes his head, and looks over to me. “Yes, Nora Stephens. If you still hate me for taking you on this frolic by the time its over, I’ll let you publish whatever erotica you want. 

“You’re just saying that because Bigfoot secretly gets you off, aren’t you?” 

“Of course,” he tells me with mock seriousness. “There’s nothing sexier than Bigfoot and his big—” 

I slap my hand over his mouth as he laughs. “Don’t you finish that sentence, Charlie Lastra. You’ll damage my ego. I’m supposed to be the sexiest one in your life.” 

His eyes soften, and he does look serious now. “You are, Nora. You’re the most everything in my life.” 

I look away, fighting back tears. It turns out, after a decade of never crying, it’s hard to turn the waterworks off. I get emotional at everything now, from animal commercials (fucking stop laughing, Charlie, the cats are being abused), to the endings of new books (I still love the ones with realistic endings the best, but now I understand why Libby and Mom found them so hard to read), to Charlie Lastra making comments about Bigfoot erotica that somehow feel like so much more. 

We come up to the cabin and Charlie pulls me up to stand on the porch. “Do you remember the first time you saw me in this town? How much you hated me?” 

I laugh, nodding. “I didn’t believe it was actually you at first. I was convinced there must be some Charlie Lastra doppelganger, here to make my life miserable. I didn’t believe you would ever come here willingly.” 

“To be fair, I didn’t come here willingly. I was held against my will and without takeout for months, Nora.” 

I roll my eyes at him. “You know you would drop everything for your family the second they need something again.” 

He hums in agreement. “I think about those first few weeks we were here sometimes. How lucky we are that we ended up in the same room at the same time. How lucky we are that our families love us enough to let us negotiate a happy ending.” 

I understand, suddenly, what is about to happen. The breath punches out of me, and even though I knew this was coming, know what I’m going to say (even if I have to figure out a way to return the ring if it’s horrifyingly ugly), I’m suddenly so nervous that I start to shake. “Charlie,” I whisper. 

He smiles at me. “Nora,” he whispers right back. “Good?” he asks. 

“I think so,” I tell him, voice, body, soul trembling. 

“Good,” he tells me. “Ready?” 

I nod, the words already failing me. Feelings like this cannot be categorized. They cannot be put into boxes. Feelings like this balloon out and over every part of me until I’m consumed, until I feel them from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. 

“You’re perfect for me, Stephens,” he starts. “I think you already know that, but I want to tell you again. I love your nightmare brain. I love your nightmare body. I love your impractical shoes and your fancy underwear and your hour-long skincare routine.” 

“That skincare routine brings me a lot of joy,” I tell him through the tears that are already starting to fall. 

“I know. That’s why I love it. I love all the things you do to bring yourself joy. You spent so much of your life making sure everyone else was happy, Nora, and I’m so fucking proud that you’re able to make decisions now that make you happy. I love that I make you happy. I love your Peloton, and the bodega we go to every Saturday to get bagels, and I love that you wouldn’t leave New York for anything. 

“I love that I’m the only one that understands that you’re harsh because you care. I love that I can tell you things in my horrible, sarcastic way, and you’ll understand exactly what I mean. I love our apartment, and I love being in it with you every day. I love sitting next to you and neither of us talking, because we’re working, or reading, or just being, because we understand each other well enough to know that sometimes less words are more powerful than more.

“But mostly, Nora, I just love you. And I really would like to spend the rest of my life with you. I might want it even more than I want to move out of my racecar bed into Libby’s guest room.” 

“I knew you were just using me for my connections,” I say. He tilts one corner of his mouth up and gets down on one knee. 

“Charlie,” I gasp out, incapable of anything else, as he pulls out a small box. 

“I love you so much I even know that you want to pick out your own ring. So forgive me for offering you an empty box, but please, Nora Stephens, marry me. Let me spend the rest of my life contributing to our DINK lifestyle. Let me be easy for you in the best way possible. Marry me, Nora.” 

I crash to the floor onto my knees so we’re at the same height, cradle his face in my hands, and laugh through my tears. “Yes.” I tell him. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” 

“Yes?” he asks, as though he can’t quite believe this is real. 

“Yes,” I say to him again. “Yes, I love you, thank you for not making me wear an ugly piece of jewelry, yes, yes, yes.” I pull him to me, kissing him, but we’re both laughing too hard to kiss properly, so it’s more of us smiling against each other, foreheads pressed together, every piece of our bodies fitting together. 

Charlie pulls me on top of him so he’s laying on the porch. “Thank God you said yes. I still had a niggling worry that you were going to leave me for Shepherd.” 

“Charlie Lastra!” I exclaim. “How dare you think for a second that I would pick the hot small town farmer over the overworked city executive who has no life because, and I quote, ‘There’s always something too good to read.’” 

He rolls us so I’m laying underneath him. “Well, when you put it that way…” He kisses me again, long and slow and deep, and fuck, I’m so gone for this man. 

I break away, laughing. “Holy shit. We’re going to get married.” 

“I know,” he says, smiling wickedly. “How early is too early to start telling people my wife is a hot, kick-ass editor whose books crack the New York Times bestselling list every time they release?” 

“Mmm, you can brag about me anytime you’d like.” I reach up to kiss him, twining my fingers through his hair. “Mr. Lastra-Stephens.” He nearly chokes, and I pull back, searching his eyes. “Sorry, I know we haven’t talked about names, but–” 

“Shut the fuck up. Of fucking course I’m going to take your name. Fuck the patriarchy and all that. It’s just–” he rolls his hips into mine and I groan. “Really fucking hot to hear you talk like that. Excuse me for reacting.” He kisses my forehead, my cheek, my neck, and then looks back up at me. “Mrs. Lastra-Stephens. Or Stephens-Lastra. Whichever. Whatever. I don’t fucking care.” 

“Lastra-Stephens,” I decide. “It’s alphabetical.” 

He groans. “You really are my perfect woman.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t get me a ring.” I tell him as he rolls off of me so I’m pressed up against his side, my head resting on his shoulder. We’re still on the porch.

He looks down at me, quizzical. “Did you want me to?” 

“No.  I just thought,” I shrug. “You’d think it was weird I wanted to pick it out myself.” 

“Nora. You forget how well I know you. You forget how similar we are. I would want to pick out a piece of jewelry I’m going to wear for the rest of my life, too.” He kisses my hair. “But for the record, I would’ve picked a really good ring.” 

“Oh, yeah? What would it have looked like?” 

“Expensive. Classic. Hot. I’d just find one that reminds me of you, honestly.” 

I laugh, press a kiss to his shoulder. “I’ll let you have input when we pick one in the city, then.” 

“Good.” He leans down to kiss me, then, and this time, there’s more intention behind it. His tongue brushes against mine, and then I’m on top of him, pressing him back into the porch.

He sits me up, still kissing me, and then breaks away to press his forehead to mine. “No offense Stephens, but I’m not having hot engagement sex with you on my parents’ cabin’s front porch.” 

I laugh, climb off of him, and pull him up. “So hot engagement sex is on the table inside?” 

He gives me one of his Charlie looks then, one that tells me that obviously hot engagement sex is on the table inside. He unlocks the door as I press kisses down his neck. “Nora.” 

I smirk. “Charlie.” 

He has me up against the door the second it closes behind us, and then I’m tugging him upstairs. We tumble onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, Charlie on top and me underneath. He kisses me hard, presses me into the mattress, pulls my shirt up and tugs my pants off. When he stands up to take his own clothes off, I sit up on my elbows, looking at him. 

“What, Stephens? Regretting your decision already?” 

“You are,” I say, “ridiculously hot.” 

The corner of his mouth ticks up. “I love you too, Nora.” 

Then he’s on top of me again, taking off my underwear, pressing his mouth to me, making me gasp and arch underneath him until I’m coming. He crawls back up me so we’re face to face. “Good?” he asks. I nod. “Keep going?” I nod again, and then he’s pressing inside of me, gasping, until we’re pressed together as tightly as we can be. 

“Fuck, Nora,” Charlie rasps, dropping his head to my shoulder. “We get to do this forever.” 

“I know,” I tell him, flipping us so I’m on top. “Aren’t you glad you got such a good catch?”

“Jesus–fuck–I just can’t believe all my wildest fantasies came true.” 

I hum in agreement and start to move, my stomach already tightening with the anticipation of what’s to come. He only lets me stay in control for a minute, and then rolls me back over to fuck into me slow and deep. I moan, and then I’m coming, clenching down around him, and I can feel him come, too. We stay locked together for what feels like hours before he pulls out and tugs me into his side. 

“Hi,” I say, looking up at him. 

“Hi,” he says back. “Mrs. Lastra-Stephens.” 

I groan. “Fuck, you’re right, that is really attractive.” 

He laughs. “I know, right? It’s almost like it brings out the inner Bigfoot-esque possessiveness we all hold within us.” 

I shove at him, rolling away as I cackle. “You did not just bring Bigfoot into sex.” 

He pulls me back, kissing my left ring finger and then pressing a kiss to my lips. “Of course I did, Nora. Bigfoot is what got us into all of this in the first place.” 

I laugh, thinking of those first texts in Sunshine Falls, of everything that came after it. 

“Did our frolic end well enough for you to convince you not to publish Bigfoot erotica under my name?” 

“Mmm, I don’t know.” I roll to lay on top of him. “Getting engaged to the love of one’s life isn’t quite a momentous enough occasion for me.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“What if the love of one’s life did this?” He presses a finger into me, right where I need him, and I groan. 

“One might be able to be persuaded.” 

He keeps going, then, until I’m gasping and begging and telling him that of course I won’t publish anything under his name, and then he’s back inside of me, moving until we both tumble over the edge. 

Afterward, we sit on the bed and plan our wedding. We’ll have it in the city, and I already know how I’ll ask them to rearrange Freeman’s Books so we can have our ceremony there, amongst the books that kept me alive, the books that brought us together. We’ll go to our favorite restaurant afterwards, and drink and eat and dance all night. We’ll only invite our immediate family; who else do we need besides Libby and Brendan, Sally and Clint and Carina? I’ll wear a simple dress: long, white, and in Charlie’s words, really fucking hot. He’ll wear the suit that’s already a part of his wardrobe. God forbid he buy new clothes to only wear them once. Our rings will be gold, and they won’t be flashy. Neither of us are trying to prove how much we love each other or how rich we are with these rings. After, we’ll go back to our perfect apartment, and have romantic, dreamy, slow sex. We’ll wake up each morning after that belonging to each other a little more than we did the day before, intertwining our lives until we’re able to live our ending forever. There will never be kids, but there might be a cat. There will always be fights, and there will always be peace after that. There will be love and trust and respect, and I’ve never been so grateful for this man sitting beside me than I do in that moment. 

“I love you,” I tell him for what must be the tenth time tonight, as we’re starting to fall asleep.  

He tugs me into a hug. “I don’t think we could have written a better ending.” 

“No,” I agree, “we couldn’t have. It’s too real to be written.” 

Charlie hums in agreement, and we fall asleep like that, my head on his shoulder, one of his legs in between mine, my hand on his chest, his hand covering mine. It’s perfect. It’s better than anything I could have thought up. 

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

Yay!! thank you so much for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments and constrictive criticism is always welcome. My asks are open: let me know what you want me to write!!

[full---ofstarlight]

tagged in this oc questionnaire by @gwynbleidd !!! i did delvyre because my brain is just full delvyre these days, but also my d&d character sirrus, because it just dawned on me that i can spill all his backstory secrets here without worrying about spoilers bc none of you are my party members hehe

--

NAME: Delvyre Coppersmythe — Delvyre was the name that her mother, whomst she has never met, gave her and it was embroidered onto her blanket when she was left on her father’s doorstep <3 

NICKNAME: Del, since it’s just a nice shortened version of Delvyre; her father used to call her Little Flame, even before she started learning fire magic 

GENDER: cisfemale

STAR SIGN: I do not have enough braincells to figure out the Forgotten Realms translation, but she’s a Sagittarius Sun, Aquarius Moon, Leo Rising.

HEIGHT: 5’3” (160 cm)

ORIENTATION: Bi bi bi

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Her mom’s family are High Elves, and her dad’s family has roots in Kara-tur but they’ve been in Faerun for generations at this point. She’s lived in Baldur’s Gate all her life. 

FAVORITE FRUIT: While she likes cherry-flavored things, her favorite actual fruit is any kind of citrus

FAVORITE SEASON: Autumn! 

FAVORITE FLOWER: Sunflowers!

FAVORITE SCENT: Is it too obvious if I say a campfire? 

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: All three? I think coffee wins out slightly, because she likes the buzzzzzzzzzzzzz. 

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Either more than 10 or less than 6, there is no in-between. 

DOGS OR CATS: I gave her a proficiency in animal handling for no real lore reason, and I guess I’m gonna reverse engineer that and say she’s a big cat person and used to feed stray cats in the Lower City a lot. 

DREAM TRIP: I think she’d love to go to Alm. 

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: So. Many. She likes to bundle up when it gets cold. She wraps herself up into a little nest. 

RANDOM FACT: If she was a Pokemon trainer, her buddy Pokemon would be Nine-Tails. 

--

sirrus's has a lot of our homebrew world lore so i did my best not to just gush about it lmao

NAME: Sirrus Montague totally not Eminence Sirrus Mavros Alarie

NICKNAME:  The Red Thief is his, like, criminal name. Also what if I told you Sirrus was a nickname?

GENDER: cismale

STAR SIGN: My DM very kindly provided us with her homebrew months and seasons and said she was working on an astrology system, and my only requirement was that there was one that was Lying Liar that Lies for him <3 (Ahem. Gemini.) 

HEIGHT: 5’10” (178 cm) // but he wears heeled boots and counts his horns when listing his height, so he’ll tell you 6’1” 

ORIENTATION: Pansexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: He says he’s from Endoza, a port city in the Peaceable Kingdoms (our homebrew world), but REALLY he is from the Sentose Archipelago, a pirate-y vibe collection of islands just south of the PK, populated by hobgoblins, tieflings, humans, water genasi, and half-elves. Oh, and he’s a tiefling. 

FAVORITE FRUIT: Starfruit!

FAVORITE SEASON: Summer. Ya boy hates the cold.

FAVORITE FLOWER: Hibiscus 

FAVORITE SCENT: The sea. 

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Coffee. 

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Eight on the dot. He needs his beauty sleep <3 

DOGS OR CATS: I’m leaning towards cats?? For no real reason????

DREAM TRIP: Our in-game joke is that he’s gonna take our Jimmy Buffet-inspired NPC buddy for a fishing-tour-combo-bar-crawl and the next campaign will kick off with them tied up on a boat and having to figure out how the heck they got here (it won’t happen; I’ve been tipped off as to what the next campaign is). 

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: One but it’s very fancy and cozy

RANDOM FACT: since none of you are my party members, I can actually reveal the big big big backstory secret that i’ve been hiding and probably won’t reveal for some years: HE IS SECRETLY FROM A VERY CUTTHROAT NOBLE FAMILY WHO CONTROLS A RUTHLESS TRADING EMPIRE AND AFTER A TERRIBLE SHIPWRECK HE SAW A CHANCE TO FAKE HIS OWN DEATH AND HE’S BEEN HIDING FOR THEM FOR A DECADE AND HE FEELS HE NEEDS TO ATONE FOR ALL THE SHIT HE WAS FORCED TO DO AS A TEENAGER TO HELP FURTHER HIS FAMILY’S WEALTH AND STATUS ///ok done screaming

--

taggin' @criffyzou @sun-marie @yappatadwinks @n7viper @thedeadthree @birbycakes @commander-krios @cynda-queer anddd anyone else with little guys (gender neutral) that they would like to fill this out for!! (tag me bc i always love to read about them :3c)

[orionauriga]

writerly ephemera

✨ share some little bits of you, easter eggs, memories, etc. you have left scattered in your fics or art. if you fancy it, tag a pal. ✨

thank you to the lovely @moondal514 for the tag, and shoutout to the wonderful @decaflondonfog for starting this up!! one thing about me is i love yapping about the behind-the-scenes of my fics

Andrew’s gaze is heavy, like Aaron’s spiraling thoughts are displaying on the dashboard screen amid the radio information: 101.1 Columbia’s Alt Rock Hits — my mother died in a car crash i could kill myself or someone else just as easily and knowing my luck i probably will — Now playing: Sugar, We’re Goin Down by Fall Out Boy — (on the cusp of getting it right)

since getting a functioning aux cord i rarely, if ever, listen to the radio BUT when i do, my favorite local station is 101.1 because they're always playing alt rock. also, writing this scene was terribly amusing to me because (1) this was for last year's T&N fest and was posted anonymously and i was certain i'd exposed myself by mentioning fob by name and (2) when i was learning to drive, my dad never EVER allowed me to have anything playing during a driving lesson. and you know what. he was right to bc i did once nearly crash while trying to change the song when doing practice hours with my mom.

What he learned was that Aaron’s shoulders tensed first when he was scared. What he learned was that Aaron liked things in threes and fives. What he learned was that Aaron was a creature of habit who got cranky when his routines were disrupted. What he learned was that they shared a distaste for mayonnaise, an inability to sleep on their right sides,... (breaking every finger, praying that it makes me clean)

all of the above are true of me as well!

Dan, Matt, and Renee burst in, the latter mediating a debate between the couple about something useless and incomprehensible as usual. “I’m just saying, I don’t give a fuck if Harry has had the most successful solo career, I’m going to be a Louis girl ‘til the day I die.” (proof of survival)

take a wild guess who my favorite member of one direction is

Aaron would love to have an answer. At first he’d thought it was exams: there’s nothing like the last two weeks of a semester to send him into a soul-crushing, mind-destroying study spiral to prepare for three straight days of tests that will directly impact his future. But it’s officially winter break and he should be relaxing, yet he can’t shake the tight flutter of nerves behind his collarbone. (call the parents, tell them i'm okay)

right around my collarbones/upper chest/throat area is where i tend to feel the physical effects of my own anxiety

On the table directly in front of him are rows and rows of pin-back buttons in an overwhelming number of color combinations, each emblazoned with PSU PRIDE ALLIANCE in blocky font. (despite everything, i'm still human)

tbh this whole fic is projection central, but this was inspired by my school's annual coming out day table in the campus center, which had tons of buttons and is where i got the aromantic and asexual pins that lived on my backpack for the rest of my undergrad years

unrelated to the fic but still feels relevant: someone in my spanish class who i barely spoke to all semester let me know on the last day of class that he saw my ace flag pin and wondered what it was and that eventually led to him not only learn what it meant but to figure out that he is also ace. i don't think i ever saw him again but i think about him a lot. i'm so glad he told me that.

In the bakery, a package of cookies for you. Frosted in ice blue and dotted with snowflake-shaped sprinkles. (leftovers)

i didn't describe them with specifics in the fic but i was thinking of the lofthouse brand sugar cookies with frosting that are the subject of much debate on the internet bc so many people think they're gross. however they are very gorgeous to me. dessert of all time imo

There is a house inside Katelyn’s mind. In the room where she harbors her instincts regarding her boyfriends’ respective addictions, a light switches on. This bulb is rarely used anymore; it flickers, uncertain. The room it hesitantly illuminates is bare but for a floor littered with dusty liquor bottles and orange pill canisters prescribed to a dead woman. At the threshold, by her feet: a bottle, empty. “Kevin,” Katelyn says, standing in that doorway, looking at him over her shoulder. (i've known this dream for a long time)

this is one of my favorite metaphors i've ever written. partly because i love inventing incorporeal spaces like this as a way to represent emotions, and partly because this specific metaphor is a reference to something only i'll get. it references the original novel i wrote a couple years back, about a young woman and the ghost who is possessing her. whichever one of them is not presently in control of her body retreats to a house that 'exists' in her mind. inventing that internal world was the most fun part of writing that story (i'm hoping to edit that novel into something readable or at the very least repurpose the concept at some point)

no-pressure tags (sorry if you've been tagged/done this already!): @merceyca @cummandercold @jaywalkers

[httpiastri]

JACKIE YOU GOT IT RIGHT OMG but now i’ve just been made really curious as to which part of that previous ask gave it away (was it the 2022 mention? that would kinda make sense, i think)

the synchronicities with pepe are all insane?? some of mine are just outright weird but like even your pokemons situation is so cool because it all makes me feel so 😵‍💫🌟💫 because i love knowing that everything and everyone is interwoven and connected yk? and about pepe being represented by a lotus flower… honestly pepe has surprised me sm since i first found out about him because sometimes he just ends up liking certain things i don’t expect him to all because he’s a driver and stuff like if he ended up being secretly spiritual with little good luck rituals or whatever i wouldn’t be surprised anymore and i LOVE that about him (i also love him)

and AAAAAAA omg the pepe shaving blurb had me feeling so 😊😊 too like the details in it are so essential to the plot and it effectively launched me even deeper into the pepe obsession because how could you just casually write about hugging him from behind and not expect me to go absolutely insane

also there was a point of time where i had every pepe tag hidden for me from any social media platform because just his name or face would have me going so insane and my only way to tackle that was to hide him from myself so if that doesn’t say enough about me idk what will 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

and being able to call him dorky?? AAAAAAA my pepe happens to be a little cocky so idk if ill get to say that anytime soon but one day i will 🤞🤞

AND THE FACT THAT A PEPE EDITOR IS ON YOUR BLOG TOO?? IM SO 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 I LOVED THAT EDIT BECAUSE OF THE MUSIC CHOICE SINCE I HAD A HALSEY PHASE A FEW YEARS AGO so to the editor: ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

p.s. i love getting your replies too!! it literally fuels me through the day and i’m so grateful that you’ve been so sweet and accepting of me while supporting my pepe obsession (and even contributing to it, to be fair)

- 🪷💗

okay this got way too long because i spiraled so im putting the little cut thing here :))) im so sorry

yay yay yay !!! pls lmk if you think im like outing you too much here if you wanna keep a secret profile bcs then ill delete some of this, but like it was kind of because of the 2022 part? but mostly bcs of the spirituality part!! because i remembered that when i posted a couple of pepe gifs months ago, i saw your reblog of them and thought like "oh! pepe fan!! i like this person already" and i started looking through your blog 🤭 and like omg i must say, about your like manifestation post…. im very good at doing or saying stuff like that just for fun but recently they've started to come true quite often?? like i manifested clem's win in zandvoort last year… i said "arvid and luke will be the first f3 winners" several days before the first f3 session…. me and a dear friend talked about how lando would get his first win like two days before miami…… idk i think it's time for me to manifest a pepe win 😭😭

and god yes yes i agree!! i actually have a crazy fact here that i wasn't gonna say but i think i've said it on this blog before anyway so… my actual first name (i have several first names, no not middle names…. my parents wanted to be "funny" but it's actually a pain in the ass a lot of the time) is lotus…….. i couldn't make this up 😭 my mom always said it was because of the flower but my dad said it was bcs of the car ofc because it was more sneaky than naming your daughter like mercedes or ferrari lmao. and so that you chose that emoji, which is so dear to me because ive grown up loving lotus flowers and having plastic flowers all over my room and just 😵‍💫🫨 and okay i had a huge ariana grande phase when i was younger and i used to love "baby i" so much that my parents got me a tshirt of it for my like 13th bday… and guess what song came on first when i pressed shuffle on ☄️ anons pepe playlist today? THAT SONG 🙃 and guess where i used to keep that shirt (i never wore it)?? on my bedroom wall, and guess what used to stick up from that tshirt?????? A PLASTIC LOTUS FLOWER. I COULD NOTTT BE MAKING THIS UP 😭 sadly ive moved out of that room but i will do my very best to look for an old pic as proof because this is actually a bit insane to me…..

but yes i would also not be surprised if he came on a pod some day or whatever and said that he is a little spiritual and like u said has a lot of like pre-race rituals and :(((( cute

i'm very glad to hear that you liked the shaving thoughts !!!! i may have posted some more…. esp important stuff in the tags of that one 🫠 but aaaAaAa!! im going insane too!!! just the thought of hugging him is so !!!!!!!! i think hugging him would be so so nice? i feel like he can be very firm with it because he's just too strong, but then there's always some little detail that's so soft and that just makes your knees go weak 🥺 like he whispers something sweet in your ear before pressing a quick kiss to your neck… or he pulls away from the hug but keeps his hands on your hips, holding your lower bodies close… and the way he looks into your eyes so intently when you tell him about how your day was, his smile never leaving his lips and- 😭 idkkkk and just the thought of hugging him when he's not wearing a shirt, like i feel like he would have naturally warm skin? so cuddling up to his back would be so cozy ??? your nose tickling the skin between his shoulder blades or your cheek resting on his bicep or something…….. 👉👈 (and omg resting on his bare chest in bed aaaaaaaaaaaa dont get me started)

bby you had the tag hidden?? please??? 🥲 understandable tho to keep sane and focused ig… bcs idk how to not think about him all day every day tbh, anytime i see him its just 🫠

YOUR PEPE IS COCKY?!?! HELPPP I WANT THAT TOO 😭😭 HOW? WHERE? WHO? AAAAAAAAA

shsjshjssj anons being fans of anons 🥺 idk if ive heard that song before but it fit so well with the two of them 🥺🥰 kisses to the editor 😚😚

waaaaahhh your asks fuel my days too 😭 when i woke up to this ask this morning i got so giddy hehehe and im always longing to hear more from you <3333 and god youve contributed sm to my obsession too aaaaaaa !!! so glad we get to share this (and with everyone else here too) 💗💗

[minimooberry]

15 Questions for 15 (girl idk that many 😭) Mutuals

thanks @druidberries​ for tagging me!!!

Are you named after anyone?

i feel like this is the dumbest thing ever bc like technically I’m named after my mom, or at least inspired by it, but we have very different names I just have the tamil version and she has the hindi version. My name means sweet melody and hers means melody. The reason I think it’s funny is because when my parents were getting married my dad asked his old teacher to come to it and upon hearing my mom’s name the first thing he says is ‘Oh her name’s Hindi so you should name your daughter the Tamil version.’ and here I am 😭😭

When was the last time you cried?

I literally have no idea probably like two weeks ago though I always got some shit going on lmao

Do you have kids?

absolutely not I’m in high school 😭 I’m still kind of on the fence of if I want them but if I do decide to have them I want a twin boy and girl and then I’m done pjasdhad

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

life is better when you’re sarcastic

What sports do you play/have you played?

I’ve danced for like, ten-ish years but other than like, badminton (and literally who is bad at badminton) I hate doing sports mnskjdksj

What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Appearence wise I notice their eyes first, I don’t know if it’s because I draw a lot or wtv but I love looking at people’s eyes I’ve never met anyone without beautiful eyes. Aside from that I notice if they’re like?? comfortable talking to me because I hate the feeling of someone not wanting to talk to me I’d rather just back off first aksdjlasdj

Eye colour?

It’s the most boring colour of brown like it’s not even a cool type of brown it’s just. Desaturated brown 🙄

Scary movies or happy endings?

Horror movies with happy endings 🔛🔝🤭🤭 I watched this korean horror movie and they switched the ending from good to bad in the last five minutes and I hated everything about that decision tbh I’m a hurt/comfort girly till the day i die

Any special talents?

I don’t knowwww I don’t pay attention that but I am incredibly skilled at losing everything I put down ngl

Where were you born?

Toronto!!

What are your hobbies?

the sims (obviously), drawing, writing, reading, I like knitting a normal amount, literally anything to do with biology, true crime, failing at playing horror games w/ my friends, andddd I think that’s it? I’ve been getting into blender recently tho!

Do you have any pets?

girl i WISH 😭 i’ve been asking my parents since literally before I can remember and their answer is always ‘we already have three dogs at home’ like bae it’s been over a decade pls get a new comeback 😒😒

How tall are you?

6 feet tall 🥱🥱

Fave subject in school?

i love Science when I actually understand it I’ve always been into it which is why I’m going into medicine after I graduate like women in STEM core is going so hard

Dream job?

UMMM I’ve always wanted to be in medicine(well, ever since I made the decision when I was 7) but I’ve kind of jumped in between a few paths. Like I wanted to be a midwife, then I wanted to be a neo-natal nurse (still debating this one tbh it’s mad interesting) and I also want to be an anesthesiologist bc it’s cool and they make bank but either way I have to take the same courses all the same so it’s fine

also don’t know if any of yall have done this so just ignore this if u have and spare me the shame 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️: @strangecowplant​ @crsentfairy​ @afrolotus​ @finnsim​ @sierraelil​ @simsyworld​ @shadezovgray​ @d4isy-nukes​ @buttertrait​ @izharza​ @helltrait​ @baersims @bnt0 @alt-simz @nooboosim

[aalissy]

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Tysm for the tag @bengaltiger25 !

1. Are you named after anyone?

Kinda yeah! My real name is Alyssa but the name most people call me is Lissy. My mom had a best friend in high school named Missy and she thought that the name was super cute so Lissy was born haha.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Oof, not entirely sure. Probs bc of a movie or tv show tho tbh. Honestly, the last miraculous ep where Félix and Kagami were explaining his childhood and how awful his father was had me def tearing up!

3. Do you have kids?

Not at the moment haha. I’m a lilllll too young for kids rn. I do want them eventually tho :).

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

No, not at all 🙄. Honestly, tho I use sarcasm probably tooooo much 🫣. To the point where sometimes people don’t know I’m not being serious lmaooo.

5. What sports do you play/have played?

Uh, yeah, not a sports girly. I’ve never played a sport in my life and have never had any desire too. Nor do I watch any sports lmaooo. The closest I’ve come to sports is reading quite a fair few sports romances bc I loveeee them lmaooo.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about someone?

Probably their hair. Idk why. I guess I just like looking at people’s hair. Does that seem weird? Lmaoooo, probably 🤭

7. What’s your eye color?

They’re kinda a mix between brown and green tbh. Somedays they’re more green and somedays they’re more brown. It depends on what I’m wearing :).

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings >>>>>. That’s not to say I don’t loveeeee scary movies. Bc omg I love jumping and getting scared and then laughing but I def prefer a happy ending. Scary movies that have happy endings are the best lmaooo

9. Any special talents?

Uhhh, I can recite all 50 US states in under a minute. Does that count as a special talent? It’s from a song I learned in elementary school that I suppose just never went away lololol.

10. Where were you born?

Chi-Town! Ye oldeeeee Windy City, how I adore you <3

11. What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, playing video games, and coding are a few of my biggest hobbies. Can I also count watching YouTube videos as a hobby? Cause I swear I spend most of my time there lmaooo

12. Do you have pets?

Yes! I have a tiny lil Morkie named Lulu. She’s 8 years old now and I love her soooo sooo much <3!

13. How tall are you?

Uhhh, between 5′5 and 5′6 tbh. I’m a shrimp bc both of my parents are supperrrrr talll smh. Wish I was taller 😅

14. Favorite subject in school?

English, if you couldn’t tell hahah. I’ve alwayssss loved reading and writing so English was always my strongest subject :).

15. Dream job?

Working in tech! Which, thankfully, is something that I get to do right now! It’s been superrrr fun for me to learn different languages and then take those skills and apply them to projects hehee.

Thanks again for the tag! I’m tagging @rosabud1250 @crescent14 @wehadabondingmoment @dammithawke @lady-de-mon-coeur @therob28 @julysky712 @ladyofthenoodle @team-leo-v @anxietyinthedrivethru @dawn-the-rithmatist @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj @princesscrybabytears @that-starbucks-lover @giuliafc if any of you guys would want to do this 😊!