#that's how I like this pair xD

[galacticghoste]

This is all bc I saw the short comic heart to heart T.T

Also I just decided bros literally any gender he/she/they/them whatever being an Ai and what not

NO BUT SERIOUSLY THOUGH IF A SINGER AND AN AI WERE TO HAVE A KID WOULDN'T IT JUST BE A VOCALOID ?!?!

[everythingdnddd]

Okay possible unpopular opinion? thought? curiosity? something here lol

I'm relatively new to the religious lore so there's fair chance I'm missing things, but the potential of the Vax / Raven Queen pairing seems a little... Don't get me wrong, I cried my eyes out at every stage of the end, but does no one else feel like Vax's story was equal parts tragedy and ascension?

Idk, the final deal he makes with her is laced with sadness for sure, but also with... potential? Loneliness? I don't even mean it in a ship way. There's just this element of melancholy companionship and comfort that's so intriguing to me. Vax who just SEES the people in his orbit and cares so deeply about them, who has come to terms with and learned to appreciate her purpose, finding his place at her side, while she's an even more solitary figure, shadowed and mysterious, but also profoundly purposed and caring in her own way. Parallels. Parallels in their stories. Parallels in their character details. There's something so Hades and Persephone about the overarching image of the two of them, but with all the details twisted toward different themes. Or maybe the same themes, ancient or modern. I don't know.

Again, it's not even a ship thing. I'm just... Thoughts. Open-ended thoughts. Idk.

[teecupangel]

man I know you've got a million what ifs and I don't expect you to spin this anywhere but I was just looking at some Yusuf fanart and wondering how Desmond would feel if he was reborn as Yusuf

It would be such a weird intersection of Ezio and Altaïr memories for him

and the twin pulls to go to Ezio and help him however he can, and the rancid bile that is Templars making their home in Masyaf

and of course the Petruccio problem, that Desmond feels like he took someone else's life, someone he knew enough to know he's not him, that he's an identity thief.

(And also the continued tragedy of Desmond being born in Ezio's era, but too late to help him in his youth.)

We can keep Desmond from going ‘fuck it’ and either joining Ezio or doing something about the Templars’ occupation in Masyaf thanks to Yusuf’s backstory of having no father and only having his mother raised him. His mother would be the only reason why Desmond continued to stay in Constantinople. Honestly, what we know of Yusuf’s life is from the novelization of the movie where his descendant relived his early years. From that though, we can get Desmond into accidentally creating a Brotherhood made up of street urchins. They’re more on the side of thieves than actual Assassins because Desmond focused on keeping everyone alive and healthy.

So when the Brotherhood heard of an organized Thieves Guild, Ishak Pasha is the one to look into it.

There, he meets up with Desmond (who goes by Desmond with only his mother being the one to call him ‘Yusuf’) and Ishak mistakes Desmond as one of the leaders’ main messengers.

Desmond didn’t bother to correct his misconception and lets Ishak watch them in action with Desmond talking to himself in 3rd Person much to the amusement of his fellow ‘thieves’. Ishak learns they call their leader ‘mentor’ and realized that a lot of them move like Assassins.

When he sees Desmond’s Hidden Blade which he had received from his mother a few years back, Ishak finally realizes that Desmond is the mentor.

After this, we can go either:

Desmond and his Brotherhood of ‘street rats’ are taken in by the Brotherhood for formal training or

Desmond and his Brotherhood remain to be a separate organization that are closely allied with the Brotherhood but do not bow to any mentor.

I feel like Desmond would pick to remain independent for various reasons but mostly, he decides to be independent because he doesn’t see himself as an Ottoman Assassin, clinging to his Levantine roots. Ishak might even think that Desmond was truly a descendant of a Levantine Assassin of old, maybe of even the great Al-

No.

Probably not.

With Desmond’s Brotherhood being an independent organization, he gets to train people he trust to keep his mother safe. Once he’s sure they’d be fine by their own, years have passed and Desmond…

Desmond knows Ezio would be making his way to Masyaf this year.

So…

He goes to Masyaf as well.

.

.

Okay, so we know that Desmond would searched for the Masyaf Keys as soon as he could and we can give him maybe most of them… except one. The key that seemed to have disappeared, most probably in Templar hands that Desmond is still searching for.

This way, we have an excuse for Ezio to go to Constantinople with Desmond after they cleaned up Masyaf.

Ezio tries to reason that even if they kill every single Templar in Masyaf, they’d just bring in more and finds Desmond’s insistence to clean up Masyaf as a fool’s errand. At the same time, he’s jealousy of the passion Desmond has for the Creed but worries of how Desmond seems to be stuck in the past as well.

Desmond would be a bit cagey of who he is but he’d tell Ezio that his name is Desmond. Ezio would be surprised but he wouldn’t believe Desmond is the same Desmond that Minerva talked about because, as far as he knew, Desmond was meant to be alive centuries from now. Desmond didn’t bother to tell him the truth. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe after they have said their goodbyes to Altaïr…

Maybe.

.

The Petruccio problem will definitely rear its ugly head every time his mother would call him ‘Yusuf’, the first time Ezio would learn his real name is ‘Yusuf’ and whenever he sees the Brotherhood have a different mentor instead of… the real Yusuf Tazim. 

That was also a reason why he decided that his Brotherhood (maybe we’ll name it the Brotherhood of Shadows? It would be funny if Desmond goes “we’re the Hidden Ones” without having any ideas that that was the original name of the Brotherhood) would work independently. He’s trying to step away from Yusuf Tazim’s footsteps, like an exact opposite of the initial plans of the Desmond Miles who became Petruccio Auditore. 

He wants to carve his own path because he believes he’d only be sullying Yusuf’s memories if he pretended to be him.

.

��…… Wanna fuck with Desmond some more?

Of course you do XD

So…

How about Suleiman and Desmond actually meet and they sorta-kinda grow close in a ‘I think of you as a friend’ way for Suleiman and in a ‘I know you’re gonna be sultan later so I’m being nice to you’ way for Desmond.

But the more Desmond talk to Suleiman, the more he notices…

Suleiman sounds a lot like Malik.

And his memories of Malik make Desmond feel… a kinship with Suleiman that may or may not even be there. And Desmond is now worried.

That Suleiman would become the Lorenzo to his Giovanni and compromise them all.

(And yes, I did think of this because Suleiman and Malik have the same voice actor!)

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Hmmm it's been a while since I posted one of my weird crossover ideas on tumblr. Let's fix that.

For the past few days I've been enjoying daydreaming about a Avatar the Last Airbender/Wingfeather Saga crossover. But it's. probably not what you would expect, haha. I'll probably never write it as more than ideas though, so I may was well post the concept here.

So this takes place in the Wingfeather world of Aerwiar, several years before the Fall of Anniera that jumpstarts the war/plot happening in the book series. One day, Artham Wingfeather is in one of Anniera's port towns and is called over by a concerned citizen, who leads him to a crowd watching a rowboat slowly drift to shore. The rowboat contains two small children, who Artham brings ashore and takes back to Castle Rysen.

The small children in question are Zuko (age 4) and Azula (age 2). In this version of events, the Fire Nation royal family is a bit darker than in canon and, after Ozai flies into a rage and burns Zuko (yes he still has his scar I know I'm mean, but there's a POINT I swear) Ursa decides she needs to get her kids the heck out of the Fire Nation. But Ozai is suspicious and possessive of her in general and has her under guard so she can't escape the palace, so she entrusts her kiddos to a few trusted servants, who pack them up in a rowboat with food and water and send them off, hoping they'll make it to a coastal village and be taken in by a kindly family.

Most of this is explained/implied in a note that Ursa sent along with the kids, that Artham reads and passes on to Esben (and Nia and Arundelle). They are properly horrified.

However, what no one realizes is that these kiddos have come through a portal between the two worlds. So Artham and Esben ASSUME that SOMEWHERE these kid's mom is being held captive by their cruel father and so they send out search parties/reconnaissance teams to try and rescue her, and because any father so cruel as to hurt his son the way Ozai hurt Zuko needs to be stopped. The brothers also wonder if, perhaps, this is somehow connected to the Tragic Accident that befell their parents and aunt Illiya a year before when their ship was lost and they were killed. And they start to wonder if, perhaps, that wasn't an accident, but that they stumbled upon whatever This was and tried to stop it and got in the way. (They don't suspect Bonifer... at first...)

Anyway, Artham finds himself caretaker for these two small children and develops a bond with them, especially Zuko (what, you thought I WASN'T going to use this as an excuse to make a connection between two of my favorite characters of all time?). Arundelle also becomes close with them, and- besides the cooks in the castle- she's the first person Artham tells about the kids. Because I thought it'd be fun to make Arundelle a healer (hey, why shouldn't she be good with healing plants and herbs? heh) and have her be the main person who treats Zuko's burn.

Azula recovers from the trauma of being separated from her mom and home pretty quickly since the new place she's in has kind, caring people, nice food, is still a palace, and she's two. She loves playing with Arundelle and listening to Artham's stories. She's very bright and friendly and talkative. She IS very attached to her brother tho, sleeping in the same bed as him the first few nights in this new place, even defending him/trying to explain his actions the way she's heard adults do. (when Artham finds the siblings they're clinging to each other in their little boat, terrified)

Zuko is more complicated. He's had the physical trauma of being burned paired with the emotional trauma of being hurt and abused by his father (the burning wasn't the first time, just the most severe). He understands a little more of what's going on than his sister. He love, love, loves being held, especially by Artham, because since Azula was born he's not been allowed to act like a "baby" and hasn't gotten much physical affection. He's very shy and has periods of mutism when meeting new people or encountering distressing/unfamiliar situations. Little guy has also had his senses severely rattled by losing both half his vision and half his hearing in one fell swoop. In short, he's a mess. The first time he's alone with Artham he has a panic attack because he thinks Artham will hurt him, but Artham being so kind and understanding and gentle with him helps him unlearn that. Zuko becomes very attached to Artham very quickly and... Artham becomes attached to him pretty fast too.

(Additionally, Zuko is terrified of Bonifer. The only explanation he can give for that is, "He looks at me like father did." which does plant a little seed of suspicion in Artham's mind specifically)

So, long term, this severely messes up Gnag/Bonifer's plans, since suddenly the Annierans are combing the Hollows/The Killridge Mts/even the Doonlands trying to find Zuko and Azula's family. This either forces the baddies to speed up their plans... or derails them altogether. I haven't decided yet, haha. The Annierans do find out something of what Gnag is doing (they don't connect Bonifer to it right away tho) and end up with some preparation for the attack that eventually comes. I think the attack on Anniera is still somewhat successful, but a lot less so than in canon. Like, I don't think the entire populace is captured/scattered and I haven't decided if I want Artham and Esben to still get captured or not. (if they do I have this great mental image of 7-year-old Zuko and 5-year-old Azula trying to rescue them from Throg. Just. just imagine the CHAOS even a pair of BABY firebenders could do in Aerwiar. Imagine.)

Oh yeah, to give you a better idea of WHEN this happens, Nia is pregnant with Janner when Artham finds Zuko and Azula. I just thought it'd be fun for Zuko to have the same age gap with Janner he has with Aang and it makes it close enough for things to come together plot wise.

So yeah, that's my thoughts on how Zuko and Azula could potentially have prevented the Fall of Anniera. xD

Other random things they cause:

Artham adopting them

Artham and Arundelle getting married a few years before Anniera falls after the closeness and bonding that comes from caring for a pair of traumatized children.

Absolute chaos with their firebending (the Annierans chalk this up to the old stories of Annieran/Anyaran kids having special powers to defend their home with and decide not to question it further)

So yeah, there's my late night thoughts on a WFS/ATLA AU. where Artham adopts Zuko and Azula. because why not. I hope it was a fun read. :D

[manofmanymons]

Kaito trying really really hard to put his protectiveness aside giving miu some growing room by distracting himself with dating and hanging out with people he barely is able to tolerate due to his experience in the other world, wince dating and making friends is what normal highschoolers do.

Miu developing very /very/ messy feelings regarding Kaito seemingly having no more time for her, while at the same time pushing him away when he does since that's just how their dynamic has always been as siblings and she wants him to feel like everything is fine with her, get really mad at girls he brings to the house, her even worse ability to relate to other people her age. . Also gender stuff unrelated to the main plot.

Takuma and Ryo being the only still decently well adjusted ones.

Shuuji developing a bad rebellious streak due to his father treating lopmon like a stray animal at the best of times.

Saki having anxiety since, now that she's improving in her physical self she has to prepare for rhe future.

Aoi being a mess with the fact their group is starting to drift apart due to their own issues and worrying she won't have anyone that really /gets/ her if they do stop talking together.

The concept of Kaito trying too hard to be a "normal" kid as a distraction from Miu even though he's clearly bad at it and doesn't like doing it is honestly really interesting. It's almost funny in a fish out of water way, but also really sad thinking about him being stuck with nothing but fake friends after having spent time with real friends.

Pretty much everything you said about Miu is like,,,exactly how I imagined she'd act post game? Like yeah Kaito being clingy annoyed her, but that doesn't mean she wants him to never be with her. Not having friends her age AND having this new distance between her and someone she's used to having around a lot would be really isolating and tough. I actually talked a little about this one before. Lowkey love that pretty much everyone seems to agree that this kid has gender stuff going on.

I actually imagine Ryo would have a similar problem to Aoi. He went to camp to make friends because people at his school already didn't like him, so drifting apart from the friends he DID make would be hard for him since they're all he has. Well, other than Kunemon.

Takuma probably would be the most relatively well-adjusted person here but he is still a kid trying to pretend life is normal after having to save the world so ladfkjakj idk maybe as former team leader he'd be a little adverse to taking responsibility for things for a while. Y'know like having trouble finding ordinary things in his life important compared to saving the universe. I think I accidentally just described ant man quantumania never mind ignore me.

Shuuji WOULD have a rebellious phase. He didn't go through an entire self-acceptance arc to watch the other half of his soul be mistreated ToT It'd probably be a bit awkward tbh tho like sunk cost fallacy is real and I don't think he'd want to throw away everything he's worked for academically when he's this close? Local rebellious bad boy still top of his class? But then again what better way would there be to spite his dad than failing aldkfa idk

I actually. Really really love that idea for Saki. Her being someone who didn't plan about the future before because she didn't know if she'd even have one now realizing that Life is Happening and she doesn't know what she's doing. Obviously she's still young but tbh can confirm that at any age it's extremely stressful when everyone seems to know what they want and where they're going but you.

What is a squad mom without her squad ToT It probably would be jarring for Aoi going back to school with classmates that just take advantage of her after having friends who truly appreciated her. Being unable to feel the same way about her old "friends" anymore.

Honestly I think they would all be afraid of drifting apart. In a lot of ways, most of them are each other's first true friends who care about them and not just for the masks they wear or the help they can give. None of them WANT to move on from each other, they just don't have the time, and most of them don't go to school together. ...Digimon Tri Joe moment. Joement.

[smallest-turtle]

The more I write for Haurchefant in shadowbringers the luckier the Exarch gets regarding the fact that this man has actively worked on not being a wrathful vengeful person. Like if he hadn't evened out his temperament On Purpose? Being the leader of a city state may be all that would be saving that guy.

[victorluvsalice]

Happy 15th “Very First Mention Of Valice” Anniversary!

Though, admittedly, it does feel weird to celebrate this anniversary, given that “very first mention of Valice” was me berating myself for even HAVING shipping thoughts about Victor and Alice. XD Yeah, what happened basically was this --

-->I was playing in a LIveJournal RP game at the time, Beyond The Rift, with a version of Doc Brown mixed with Changeling: The Lost (poor guy had ended up as a steampunk cyborg while stuck in Faerie, then escaped into an alternate universe Chicago with angels and demons and various other ridiculous shenanigans -- he at least got the ability to control his personal weather out of it?). I was having fun, and thinking about other characters that I would like to play with if given the chance -- most notably, Victor and Alice.

-->That same day, I ended up on TV Tropes, and in my travels, ended up in the Shipping Tropes section. I don’t remember if I ended up on the Crossover Shipping page precisely, but I was definitely in that general vicinity.

-->And -- well, I was already thinking about how Victor and Alice shared a love of drawing, and how they were from the same time period, so if they DID both end up in that Chicago, they’d be able to commiserate with each other and suchlike. . .

-->And thus, cue me thinking about shipping them. And then cue me going “WTF??” at my own brain, because I was absolutely convinced at the time that they’d make a horrible couple, and that my (supposedly-joking) desire to ship Victor with both Victoria AND Emily was weird enough.

. . .we see how all THAT turned out! I wonder what 2008 Vicky would think if she could look forward and see me now -- having written freaking novels’ worth of Valice fan fiction, having embraced not only shipping Victor with Victoria and Emily at the same time, but throwing Alice into the mix too, and currently being obsessed with the OT3 of Victor, Alice, and a roller coaster. XD Hopefully she’d see how happy I am with all this nonsense and be glad that she didn’t talk herself out of it. (Even if it took me until December of that year, after I’d made Victor and Alice RP journals, to let Alice call Victor her boyfriend. But we’ll get to that later.)

[readingwriter92]

Took like. Three years straight and like thirty scarves made but I’m finally branching out a little in my knitting.

I have made a single fingerless, glove thingy. The paper I found calls it a “wrister ”

[nightrae13]

Growing up is realizing the 2nd leads were both too good for the main ones and deserve each other instead:

Hot take and I know it's a rare pair, but Ji Hoo x Jae Kyung would have been amazing. I don't really ship them in other adaptations (I'm a Lita x MJ shipper in the Thai version even if I could only respect Jae Kyung x Woo Bin lol). However, Ji Hoo and Jae Kyung have something special I don't know how to describe. Perhaps it's because they're the most fleshed out versions among all adaptations, and their last scene together just shows how much they understand one another, and how Jae Kyung supports Ji Hoo's happiness. Anyway, I'm only saying this because I just remember this amazing and heartfelt fic and want to ramble why I ship this J x J the most in this version lol (it was never pair the spares for me somehow, I just like them yk). This fic also made me realize the "Once in a lifetime" parallel to Ji Hoo, and his and Jae Kyung's development is sooo amazing and touching y'all.

[maengekyou]

i know this is a naruto blog but i need the world to know how much i hate halsin (and gale)

[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

@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy

@haikomaiko @tbzzluvr @myahfig4 @arabelluhhh4200 @bloopsstuff

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

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

@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[writersdrug]

Kinda wanna know what happened with reader's bra. Like did bartender!Simon just keep it ? XD

Well... he told himself he wasn't going to touch it. And for a while, he didn't. It sat there, slung over the back of his chair, taunting him whenever he was in his room.

He was trying to be a good coworker; he wanted to wash it before returning it to you, but then he had to ask - how do you wash a bra? Can he just throw it in the machine with his other clothes and hope for the best? No, he has too many black shirts - your pink lace would probably turn grey if he washed them together.

He used the excuse of needing time to research how to wash a bra, justifying putting it off for so long (let's face it, this was some mission impossible shit); but eventually, you asked him if you could have it back.

Fuck.

He was honest with you, saying he wanted to wash it clean of the alcohol it had been drenched in, he just didn't know how - he left out the part where he was procrastinating purely because he didn't want to let go of it (he hasn't even admitted that to himself).

You tell him it's simple: cold water, delicate, toss it into one of those bra bags you get on Amazon, and any detergent will do. Just don't put it in the dryer, it'll make it shrink. "It's simple, really. I can just take it home and wash it."

Fortunately, you forget to ask for it again at the end of your shift. It's still on the chair in his room, facing him as he lies on his bed, fresh out the shower.

It looks uncomfortable. Doesn't the lace rub against your nipples? Is this your favorite bra, or one you don't really care about? He's trying his hardest not to think about how it looks on you, but he can't stop staring at the damn thing. He's wondering if you have a matching pair of panties, not stopping himself as his hand reaches down to massage his balls; a deep, heavy sigh escapes his lips as he wraps a hand around his shaft and slowly pumps himself. His head falls back against the pillows as he thinks of you, lying on his bed and letting him cum all over your tits. One wank can't hurt, right?

Wrong.

Fifteen minutes later, he's shooting cum all over your bra where it lies on the bed, a deep groan leaving his throat as he keeps pumping his cock, nearly choking it with his grip. The mental image of his dick sliding between your breasts fades away, and he's left with that familiar loneliness; an ache to crush you against his chest and keep you there all night.

He collapses onto his back and pants, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy. He grabs his phone and starts looking for that bra bag you were talking about, reminding himself that he still needs to wash your cum-stained shirt, too.

[sleep-drunk-kitten]

pairing: Sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, established relationship

content warnings: emotional neglect, some swearing, hoon is kinda a workaholic ig?, I don't think there's anything that really needs warnings other than this is sad but lmk if I miss anything!

summary: your boyfriend comes home late after promising to be home on time for once, only to find that you're nowhere in sight...

notes: this is another one that I'm not sure how to feel about ;-; but I hope you guys enjoy it TwT fun fact, the whole thing was inspired by an rp that I did with an ai where the robot somehow managed to call me by another person's name while cuddling XD

I'm making a general taglist for my fics so if anyone would like to be added please either send an ask or a DM ^w^

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  The white noise of your favorite movie buzzes through your living room, conversation and dialogue that you’d learned by heart filling the cold space with a false sense of familiarity. You sit cross-legged with your back pressed into the arm of the L-shaped couch in front of the tv, resting your chin on a plushie held close to your chest, looking not at the flickering screen to your right, but at the clock hanging in your kitchen–the only room in the house with the lights on. 

  9:17 pm, it reads. Roughly three hours and seventeen minutes since your boyfriend would typically get home from work. 

  Three hours and seventeen minutes since you’d been waiting on a barstool by the kitchen island where you both usually took your meals. 

  A tiramisu cake and a bouquet of flowers laid out in front of you. 

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  So much waiting. 

  After an hour or so, you’d gently slid the cake back into its box, distracting yourself with the task of putting the flowers into a vase before they could wilt. 

  ‘He’s late again,’ you think sleepily, eyes struggling to stay focused on the clock, ’he promised he wouldn’t be tonight.’

  Your vision blurs as the long hand hits 12, eyelids too heavy to keep open, mind wandering to the conversation you’d shared with Sunghoon that morning. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  “What time will you be home from work today?” you asked sleepily, sitting up in your nest of blankets, having woken up to find that he was already in the process of pulling his socks on, careful not to wake you. 

  “I don’t know, Love, you know how crazy things have been with this update, I might be late again,” he said absently, looking around for his glasses. “Where the fuck did I put them?”

  He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, leg bouncing in agitation. It made your heart ache slightly in your chest, disappointment, guilt, and worry mixing confusedly in your stomach. 

  You loved Sunghoon, more than almost anything else in your life, he was the man you’d chosen as your partner, who you’d decided to stand by through thick and thin. But ever since the game company he worked for had started work on a new update, you’d been seeing less and less of him. Always coming home late, tired and stressed, mind wandering and absent even when he was sitting right in front of you. You understood, you really did. Between the two of you he was the one with the bigger income, the burden of taking care of you, of making sure that the two of you could build a future together, was on his shoulders. And it was a responsibility that he did not take lightly. 

  But still. 

  In moments like that, where you slid off your bed to fetch his glasses off the nightstand–blanket wrapped securely round your shoulders to fend off the cold that permeated your apartment since the heating had started to malfunction–moving round the bed to stand in front of him… you couldn’t help but feel like he was breaking your heart. Just a little. 

  It was in the way he only met your eyes briefly when he took them from you before standing and gathering the rest of his things, sighing in what could’ve been frustration or relief, it was hard to tell. 

  It was the way he didn’t stop the flow of movement steadily taking him away from you and towards the office till you called his name twice, stopping in his tracks and fixing you with a look that, though probably unintentional, made you want to bury yourself under your mountain of plushies and hide. 

  “I’m going to be late, (y/n), what is it?”

  You winced. You couldn’t help it. Unaccustomed to hearing him say your name with so little emotion. “Just… could you come back on time tonight?” your voice is barely more than a whisper, tapering off into silence the longer you force your eyes to meet his. “Unless you can’t of course! I’m not saying you have to do anything, I understand that you’re busy and you can’t really dictate when or how things get done but just that it would be nice if you could be home on time tonight since-”

  “Okay.”

  “Huh?” 

  “I’ll make it home on time tonight.” 

  His voice was softer than it had been a moment ago, giving you the courage you needed to meet his eyes. They were still heavy with worry, brows drawn together to dig a permanent crease into the middle of his forehead, but they weren’t quite as cold or distant. He was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time in what felt like forever. 

  It wasn’t much, you knew that. But it was still enough to ease the knot building in your throat. Enough to bring a small smile to your face as you nodded. “Mnm! Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”

   “Mnm, alright,” he said, a small, slightly strained smile coming to rest on his own lips.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  The apartment was almost completely dark when the lock to the front door chimed, alerting the darkness that someone had arrived. The figure that stepped through was slumped over, backpack sliding off one shoulder with his jacket, shoes abandoned haphazardly. 

  It took a moment for Sunghoon’s mind to catch up to his body, for it to fully sink into his bones that he was home. That he was home and it was nearly 11 pm. Home and the tv and kitchen light were both on, white letters onscreen asking the room if anyone was still watching Netflix. 

  Something in the kitchen caught his eye, a handmade vase his sister had given you for your birthday set out on the kitchen island, filled to the brim with pink, white, and purple flowers he did not recognise. 

  ’Oh’

  It was his birthday. 

  That’s why you’d asked him to come home on time. 

  Sunghoon groaned, face twisting with what could only be described as pain as he quickly set his bag down by the front door and made his way to your shared bedroom. You were usually asleep by this time, unable to pull all-nighters the way you used to back when you were in high school, always out like a light by no later than 10:30 every night. 

  ’But she still stays up every night waiting for you,’ a voice in his head hisses.

  ’I know… fuck I know she does,’ his own voice replies, panic setting in when he finds your room empty, the bed neatly made, not even a dent to show that you’d been laying in it while working on your laptop during the day. 

  ’She’s not here… are you surprised? How long did you expect her to wait?’ the voice whispers, a chill cascading down his spine.

  The panic sets in with more vigor, wrapping round his throat and sending his tired mind into overdrive as he checks the bathroom, your home office, and finally the dark living room. Fear telling him that this was it. 

  He’d really gone and done it now. 

  He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew the moment you stood in the middle of your bedroom floor instead of closing the distance between you and wrapping your arms around his waist, choosing instead to clutch your favorite duvet like a lifeline, wincing when you heard his voice, all because you wanted to ask him to come home… he knew right then that he’d been an absolute idiot. 

  He’d meant to come home early, to be there to make it up to you, to apologise properly, tell you that he’d take some time off as soon as the update was done and dusted. 

  But he didn’t. He let work sweep him up again. Drowning in error messages and buggy code till the sky outside his office windows was filled with the flickering lights of the city at night. 

  And now… now you weren’t there. 

  He’d left you alone. 

  He’d left you alone too long and you were gone. 

  You were gone. 

  You were gone and-

  ’Oh.’

  There you were. 

  The relief when Sunghoon sees you–curled up on the couch, partially hidden by a small pile of blankets and stuffed animals–is immediate.

  He doesn’t really register the way he sighs your name, shoulders relaxing, body melting into the floor the moment he’s in front of you, hand brushing a few messy strands of hair out of your face. The need to feel the warmth of your skin, to confirm that you really are there in front of him more an instinct than a conscious decision. 

  You mumble something in your sleep, tilting your face away from his cold fingertips, eyes fluttering open. “Hoon… hi baby… welcome home,” you say tiredly, shifting under your blankets in an attempt to pull yourself up. 

  Sunghoon feels his heart crack in his chest. Why were you smiling at him? You should've been angry. You should've pushed him away, demanded to know why he was back so late, why he'd been neglecting you in the first place. 

  “Baby? My love… why are you crying?” you ask, reaching for him through the haze of sleep still clinging to your limbs. 

  Choking back a sob, he leans closer, tucking his head under your chin and doing his best to wrap an arm around you from his place on the carpeted floor. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, though the tears soaking into your sternum say otherwise, “just missed you…”

  Your vision blurs at his words, a thread of steadily building tension and worry that had been constricting your heart for the past few weeks snapping. “Oh…” your voice shakes slightly, lungs shuddering as your breaths begin to feel lighter, “I’m right here you goose, what’re you crying for?” 

  “Who says I’m crying,” he says, hoarse with tears. 

  “Right right,” you laugh despite the dampness now soaking through your own cheeks, “because my baby never cries, huh?” 

  “Never,” he sniffles, nuzzling closer.

  You stay like that for a while, eventually urging him to sit more comfortably on the couch, allowing you to settle yourself on his lap, his arms still wrapped firmly round your waist, hands occasionally kneading whatever part of you he was in contact with as if he needed to assure himself that you were there, solid and real. 

  He waits until he feels your heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm, trying his best to calm down so his own can match yours, beat for beat. The way it–in his opinion–should. 

  But it wouldn’t, there were words lodged in his throat, and every time he tried to get them out he felt that same panic wash over him, sending his heart into a frenzy. 

  You could feel like beating against your cheek, could sense that there was something he wasn’t saying from the way his grip on you would tighten almost imperceptibly, stiffening as if he was bracing himself for something. A part of you wanted to push him, prompt him and ask what was going through his head, why you’d woken up to the sight of him crying in the dim light of your living room. And you would’ve if he hadn’t beat you to it. 

  “I’m sorry, (y/n).”

  “What do you mean? For being late? I know you can’t help it, Hoon, it’s not some-”

  “No! I mean yes, I’m sorry for being late tonight but… I mean… I mean for everything… for not being… here, with you, like this… as often as I should be, I’m sorry,” he says, the hands at your sides nervously fidgeting with the fabric at your hips, nervously looking between your face and the static tv screen behind you. 

  Sunghoon had never been good with words. You’d learned early on in your relationship that he preferred to show how he felt through his actions. Yet here he was, fumbling through an apology because… because… 

  “My love… did you think I’d left?” you ask, gently cupping his face with one hand, urging him to look at you. 

  Puffy red eyes still wet with tears, messy unkempt hair from running his hands through it all day, tired and probably as emotionally spent as you’d ever seen him and still… still he was the most beautiful person in the world to you. He nodded, hiding his face in your chest again, hands stilling. 

  “Well,” you sigh, resting your chin on top of his head and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, combing through it in a way he swears only you can, “at least you know you’ve got things you need to make up for…”

  “I know… I forgot for a while… but I know…”

  “That’s okay then,” you breathe, leaning back to kiss his forehead. “But Sunghoon… baby… darling… the love of my life… my little pookie bear… “ you both giggle a little at the pet names, “You know I’d never leave you over something like this right? I was sad, and hurt, and I still expect you to make it up to me by never doing this again but… I still love you, it only hurts because I love you… I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sunghoon pauses for a moment, letting your words sink in. You think that when he looks up, lips slightly parted, it’s to say something in response, but you really should’ve known better. 

  Slowly, giving you enough time to pull away should you choose to, his breath mingling with yours before he steals it away with a soft, lingering kiss. Neither of you is in any rush to take things further. 

  It feels like a small eternity before he pulls away, like time stills for you both, but then he’s pressing his lips to your jaw, butterfly kisses tickling you down to your pulse point, making you giggle so you almost miss it when he says, “I love you too… so much…” 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  It isn’t until the next day when you’re shuffling into your home office dressed in one of his oversized jerseys, complaining about a meeting that he remembers the flowers he’d seen on the kitchen island.

  Pulling out his phone, he makes good use of his detective skills (and google lens), remembering all the times you’d spoken to him about the language of flowers, and the meanings behind certain blooms. 

  He wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry once he’d figured it out, opting to dig through the cabinets for a pack of waffle mix to fix you some breakfast instead. He had a lot of apologies to make…

Baby’s Breath: pure everlasting love

Pink Camellias: longing for you

Forget-me-nots: true love memories, do not forget me

[archangeldyke-all]

Isha walking into reader and sevikas room to sleep because jinx kept on pushing her off the bed :,(

(also I love the stuff you write and I hope your having a good day/noon/night!)

aweeeeeee (also tysm!! i'm slugging thru my period but i'm feeling better this evening hehe!)

men and minors dni

around midnight, you wander into the living room to find jinx taking apart your coffee maker. you rub your eyes, pull the blankets over sleeping isha's shoulders, before pouring a glass of juice and placing it beside jinx's workspace.

"can't sleep?" you ask, sitting beside her and ruffling her bangs. jinx shrugs.

"your coffee maker kept drippin', couldn't sleep with it." she mumbles, taking a slurp off her juice, her eyes studying the parts scattered on your dining table.

"y'know if you're bored... sevika's got a big ol' stash of comic books in the storage closet. classic oldies from when we were kids-- 'sharkshooter', 'janna's ravens',--"

"does she have any 'sparkgirls'? she asks, an excited glimmer in her eye. you grin.

"that was her favorite. go ahead, just don't rip any of the pages. these're her babies." you chuckle, pulling open the closet and letting jinx clamor over to you. you give her a quick kiss then wander back to the bedroom, ruffling isha's hair as you pass her on the couch.

"y'okay?" sevika mumbles as you crawl back into bed beside her. you giggle and kiss her cheek.

"just checkin' on jinx 'n the kid."

"mmm." sevika mumbles, flipping over to bury her face against your tits. "love you."

her snores quickly lull you back to bed.

you wake up a few hours later to sevika jumping awake beside you.

"'s wrong?" you mumble.

"i don't-- there's something-- isha?!" sevika asks, throwing the blankets back and flicking a lamp on.

a big pair of gold eyes blink up at the pair of you.

"s-sorry ms. vika. i go' cold without ms. jinx on the couch wi' me."

you burst into giggles, cooing down at the baby in your bed and laying back down against the mattress. isha curls up against your side. "come back to bed, sev." you say, rolling your eyes at your gawking girlfriend.

"she's in my spot!" sevika sputters, pointing at where isha's curled up on your chest. you chuckle and make grabby hands for her.

"c'mon, w'ere cold! right isha?" you ask. the kid giggles and nods, mimicking your own grabby hands.

sevika snorts an exhausted laugh, crawling back into bed beside you two, pulling the covers up and flicking the light out.

when isha's little snores start up sevika reaches over the bed to poke you. "you realize this means we gotta put a lock on the door for when we wanna fuck, now, right?" she asks.

you fall asleep laughing, reaching across the mattress to weave your fingers between sevika's.

when you finally wake up in the morning, jinx has joined your cuddle pile, curled up at the foot of the bed like a dog, one of sevika's comics clutched to her chest as she snores.

isha's laying directly on top of sevika, and sevika's got one arm curled around the girl, the other reaching out to hold your own hand.

she blinks awake when you press a kiss to her forehead, groaning when she realizes how many guests have joined your bed. you chuckle.

"you're the one who dragged 'em both home." you remind her.

"we need to find a bigger fuckin' house." she mumbles.

"or at least a bigger bed." you giggle.

sevika glances over at you, and all the annoyance and frustration melt away the second her eyes meet yours. "they're lucky i got you, y'know. no fuckin' way i'd let two kids crash the bachlorette pad i had before i met you."

"y'mean you weren't softened up enough yet?" you tease.

sevika grins and shrugs. "somethin' like that."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @lavandasz

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

enabling my little sibling and their desire to cosplay with their friend group makes me SO HAPPy because I wanted to cosplay with my friends, so I've gathered a bunch of bits and peices over the past like, 5 years that I've now bestowed upon them to keep/borrow, and while I might be overwhelming them with choices a tad, it's also super fun to see their smile as I offer more of my closet up to them and their cosplay plans.

[vrystalius]

NSFW Alphabet — Kyojuro Rengoku

A NSFW alphabet all about the flame hashira.

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x afab!reader

Thank you so so much @erexart for making this cover art! My first reaction upon seeing this was literally “oh my.” since I opened in the middle of my class XD This is so gorgeous!! Please please go check her out and leave some support, she’s an awesome person!

A = Aftercare (what is he like after sex?)

Kyojuro can’t suppress it. He’s very smile-y and cuddly after a passionate night. His large arms would snake around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His thick fingers would slowly brush over your skin, accidentally tickling you in the process sometimes. His hands are still rough and calloused, even after retirement, but you never minded. In fact, it makes you pleasantly shiver. His face would be glistering in sweat with a couple hairs sticking to his forehead. His eyes would be a little droopy and a lovesick smile would be spread all over his face. His voice would be a little horse and much quieter while whispering praises and love-declarations into your ear, his fingers running through your hair.

Your husband loves taking care of you, so expect to be pampered in all ways that are possible. To him, aftercare is just as important as the sex itself, so Kyojuro’ll gladly wash your body with either warm, damp towels or prepare a soothing bath for you if that’s what you prefer. If you manage to get out of bed right after him making you see the stars and universe, you can spot him in the kitchen by the stove, cooking a simple meal for the both of you to enjoy in bed. If you’re lucky, you get to enjoy the view of your husband’s muscular back, decorated in scratches you left behind in an attempt to hold onto something, anything, while trying to handle his size. Kyojuro doesn’t mind them, quite the opposite. His confidence gets boosted when spotting them in the mirror.

“You’re so beautiful, love. The brightest light in my life, so beautiful… you need anything, my flame? I can get you whatever you wish.”

B = Body part (his favourite body part of his and yours)

Kyojuro favours his chest the most. It used to be incredibly muscular, being able to flex the one, then the other in a funny or teasing matter. He especially found your interactions funny, how you poked his soft pecs and tensing them right after you touched them. It makes you giggle a little, so he’d gladly present his naked chest on purpose, so that you can squeeze and poke them as you like. Now, after retirement, he can’t control his muscles as much as he used to, meaning they got even softer. You love to give them a cheeky squeeze or a poke randomly throughout the day. It tickle a little when you do that, so Kyojuro’ll let you do as you please! Even if you give them a squeeze during sex. It surprised him when you do so, but your husband’ll just continue on with movement when you do.

His favourite body part of yours are your eyes and how they sparkle when Kyojuro brings you your favourite dish, or how they glister when you cry. Or, his favourite expression of yours, when they roll back into your skull. You look so drunk on the pleasure he’s giving you, you can’t even control your own face anymore- he finds you so cute looking like that.

“Hm? You wanna squeeze my breast? Sure, go ahead! If you like, you can lay your head on them, I think they’re soft enough to be used as pillows! Would you like to try?”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Kyojuro’s incredibly flustered after cumming onto your body, anywhere really. Especially if you swallow it all, that’s when he’s beginning to ascend. He let out one satisfied, deep groan before finishing and staining your beautiful body. His abs and abdomen would be all twitchy, trying to control the overwhelming pleasure of his organism by redirecting the feeling onto other areas of his body.

He’s hesitant to ask, but your husband wants you to squirt onto his face. Kyojuro is curious on what it’d taste like to be honest. He’s eaten you out before and does it almost everytime you two sleep with each other, but you never squirted on his face before. He isn’t actively trying to make you do it, but he really, really wants you to do it. He’s too shy to ask though.

“Y-You make me burn s-so brightly- Ah!-“

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)

Something that surprised even himself was how Kyojuro began fantasising about taking you in more public spaces. Not exactly somewhere where people can really see you, but he’s imagining dragging you aside into a secluded area like a forest or just a room inside the residence where the risk of being caught is a little higher. It makes him nervous to think about, taking you while also needing to look out for any other people that may come too close. He would pump his cock into his fist faster and faster while thinking about it…

E = Experience (How experienced is he?)

Kyojuro was raised well and saved himself for you, his future wife. After making sure you’d agree to marry him and that you are willing and happily ready to sleep with him, he’ll try to do some research beforehand. Your then-boyfriend snuck around his father’s house, but to no one’s surprise, found nothing on anything remotely related to sex or similar. After finding nothing, he moved onto the archives of the demon slayer corps. Of course, there was nothing there either, only scrolls and books on ancient breathing techniques, tactics on how to fight demons and all that stuff. He was hopeless and decided to give up, going in unexperienced and with the hopes to perform well enough to satisfy you.

“My flame, do you think Shinobu keeps some kind of records or books on reproduction?… Why I’m asking? No reason. I-I’m just interested in the biology of it!”

P = Position (his favourite positions)

1. Mating press

That way, he can push himself especially deep inside of you while having your legs rest on his shoulders. Kyojuro especially loved leaning down to you, watching your face heat up and how your eyes roll back. By staying so close, he can closely watch how close you are, how pretty you look like this and how intimate it feels being so close to you.

2. 69

Oh he loves the feeling of making you squirm and shudder above him while you’re struggling to take him with all the stimulation he’s giving you. Kyojuro gets easily lost in your essence, often switching form the 69-position to you just sitting on his face while his own cock is twitching and aching for stimulation, but the way he’s eating you out, you can’t concentrate on anything else but not grinding onto his face for even more stimulation.

G = Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment? Or humorous? etc.)

You know Kyojuro as a rather energised, outgoing and loud individual, but while having your legs rest on his shoulders while his hips thrust deeper and deeper, he hets much more passionate. He’s trying not to be funny, but sometimes he accidentally makes you giggle by not being able to control his hair. If he makes the mistake of not tying it together beforehand, his bright flame like hair will be falling into his face or just fly around everywhere, maybe even tickle your nose by leaning downwards during an particularly pleasurable movement.

“A-Agh, my hair- Apologies my love, can I borrow your hair-tie just for during… this?”

H = Hair (How well-groomed is he?)

Kyojuro doesn’t really like being completely shaven. He prefers keeping it more natural and let his hair grow out a little, but not too much. He trims it regularly and of course washes himself. It’s extremely important to him to stay clean snd healthy, for both you and himself. Colour wise, his pubic hair matches his eyebrows, being very dark, almost black.

Regarding you, Kyojuro does not care if you shave or not, it all tasted the same and makes you sing those pretty moans for him. The most important thing is that you stay clean for him, that’s all.

I = Intimacy (How is he during the moment? Romantically.)

It almost surprises you how attentive and intimate your husband can get, even after years of marriage. For him, sex isn’t only about pleasure, but about lovemaking and being attentive to all your needs, physically and mentally. Kyojuro takes his time beforehand to kiss and maybe even flirt with you, as if courting you for the first time ever.

During sex, he would stare at your face during the whole time, covering your skin in kisses and caresses, his hands exploring every inch of your gorgeous body. His moans would consist mostly of whimpering broken praises while his brows furrow together and sweat runs down his skin.

“I love you, I love you, gods!! H-Hah, I love you…”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Kyojuro doesn’t masturbate very often, but he does get aroused more often than he’d like to admit. Sometimes, he has to relief that pent up over the weeks. What turns him on the most is your scent. Any clothes of yours or just rolling over in bed onto your side switches something inside his brain. So, he mostly masturbates with the help of something you wore before and gave to him (with your consent of course). It doesn’t matter if it’s panties, shorts or a shirt, having your intoxicating smell near him makes him shudder and cum almost immediately.

One time, you gave him one of your panties for an extremely long mission. You alone just handing it to him so casually almost made him cream his pants.

K = Kink (one or more of his kinks)

1. Praising kink

It goes both ways, but hearing you praise him makes him cum almost immediately mid thrust. Kyojuro’s eyes would go wide and he’d lean down to you, peppering your face in kisses while burying himself deeper within you with a loud moan while thanking you quietly, his large hands squeezing your waist and pulling you closer to himself.

Your husband lives, laughs and loves praising you all day every day, that also means during sex. Seeing you blush just a little boosts his confidence greatly.

2. Exhibition

Kyojuro shudders everytime he thinks about the idea of being caught. Perhaps somebody hears your loud moans or his grunts and comes to investigate, catching you in the act. His heart races a little when thinking about asking you to help him out in the alleyway, looking out left and right to check for anyone coming. He doesn’t want to have a thing for being risky or doing it in semi-public spaces, but your husband just can’t help to fantasise about trying to make you scream louder and louder, risking being caught by a poor and probably afterwards traumatised kakushi.

3. Light Bondage

Kyojuro wants to know that you can fully trust him, and sometimes you can demonstrate it by be willing to be a little restrained. Just some loose ropes around your wrists to keep you from squirming too much. While you can’t escape, your husband, he’ll use the opportunity to its fullest to tease and play around with you by just barely using his fingers on you, instead of eating you out just giving you light kitten-licks or just caressing your body in admiration.

“Louder, m-my flame, please- Gods, I-I wanna hear you.”

L = Location (favourite places to take you)

He’d prefer to take you in your shared bed where it’s the most comfortable, but sometimes, Kyojuro would like to make love to you in the hotsprings. The steamy warmth surrounding you two, your naked body pressing right up against his, it may stir a couple of things within him like the overwhelming desire to mount you right now. The scents, the water, just the moment in general makes the perfect place to make love, don’t you think? Beneath these beautiful stars and admits the rocks and woods surrounding the hot springs…

M = Motivation (What turns him on, gets him going?)

1. Your confidence

Kyojuro is drawn to your enthusiasm and confidence like a moth to a flame- whatever you’re proud of, he’ll be 100% prouder, even if it’s just you managing to flip a pancake by tossing it in the air. Impressive non the less! But seeing you be confident in your own abilities and not needing him for a task makes him feel needed by you. If you don’t need his strength opening that jar of jam, how about Kyojuro satisfies you in other ways?

2. Being close after a long day

Your husband is often cuddly during the evenings of a long day. He still refuses to stop training even after retirement, so he’s still exhausted after a long day. Kyojuro loves to pull you closer and shower you in affections by peppering kisses all over your neck. He smiled against your skin when you squirm under him when he rolls on top of you, pinning you against the bed, his palms cupping your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Darling, can you… uh.. can we cuddle while I put.. myself.. into you? You’re just so warm and I promise you I’ll make you feel good, my flame…”

N = No (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’d never degrade or humiliate you, even if you may be into it. Kyojuro fears he might hurt your feelings or make you feel worse about yourself, wich is exact opposite of what he’s trying to do during sex. He’s trying to make love to you, not… degrade you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

Receiving

Kyojuro can barely look at you while you’re sucking him off. His wide eyes would be staring at a random point on the ceiling, his mouth agape and a little drool running down his chin. His hands would be tightly gripping both sides of your head, trying to get even more pleasure from your warm mouth. If you ever dare to tease his tip with your tongue, prepare your face to be covered in his essence in a matter of seconds. He’s extremely sensitive and cums embarrassingly quickly when you pleasure him orally. If you go on your knees while he’s leaning against a wall, Kyojuro would be concentrating on not breaking down with the amount of shaking his thighs are doing.

Giving

He’d rather give than receive any day, you being his absolute favourite dish besides sweet potato and miso soup. Kyojuro’ll drop onto his knees whenever you need him to, willing to take you anywhere at any time. His hands would be tightly wrapping around your legs, pushing them onto his shoulders for support when you’re laying down. Although he prefers it if you sit onto his face, that way he can solely concentrate on eating you and playing with your clit. Sometimes, he’ll try to overstimulate you just to make you squirm and jump away. It makes him grin every time.

“My flame, my love- you taste divine… hah.”

P = Pace (Is he fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Kyojuro tries to be slow and sensual, savouring every second of feeling you wrapped around him, how you squeeze and squirm around, but that is also the reason he really can’t be slow and sensual. His waist snap against yours in an incredible speed, chasing his own high while trying so hard to bring you the exact same feeling he’s feeling right now. But when you take control and straddle him instead, your husband loves to watch you struggle taking him in fully and how slowly you’re is moving up and down his shaft- if you decide to be quicker, his hand would quickly slam against the headboard in a desperate attempt to hold onto something while you make him see stars.

Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies)

Kyojuro enjoys the playful nature of them and how spontaneous they are- you pulling him aside from his task just to seduce him? How perverted.

He enjoys them but doesn’t prefer them over full sessions. Your husband has surprisingly a lot of desire pent-up and is ready to bed you anytime you want, so he always has time for you coming onto him first. It’d feel like a break from a stressful day or a distraction from a particularly boring task— so he enjoys it!

“A-Ah, such a needy wife I-I have.”

R = Risk (Is he game to experiment?)

Yes! Kyojuro likes keeping things spicy in the bedroom by willing to experiment with you- whatever you like, he’s down for it (except humiliation of course)! He also has a thing for semi-public things, so he’d be more than willing to try things out in that department. Overall, if you want to try out spanking, food play, hair play, temperature or just plain vanilla, he’s down for everything! Please, use him for your pleasure! He’s even open to a little more… experimental things.

“P-Pegging? Really? Ahh… I trust you, I do, but… could you give me some time to think about it?”

S = Stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

Kyojuro can and wants to go as many rounds as possible. Even after years of neglecting endurance and stamina training, your husband still has the stamina of some kind of beast. He fights through overstimulation like a soldier, if that means bringing pleasure to you then so be it. He can handle a little sting.

It also takes a while for him to cum in general. It’s not particularly hard for him to cum, he just doesn’t to. Besides, it makes him grin how you whine about already being spend and he has not even finished once.

T = Toys (does he own toys? does he use them?)

You two share one rubber dildo. No further comment.

U = Unfair (how much does he tease?)

Given how much Kyojuro enjoys making you squirm and moan, he does like to tease a little. Not to the point of making you beg, but just to make you pout a little. It just turns him on all over again.

Also, he likes to tease you during the day by slipping his hand under your skirt or pants, cupping a feel of your assets before smiling brightly at you like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’ll even slip in a finger or two.

“What’s that look, my flame? I’m just feeling up my wife!”

V = Volume (how loud is he, what sounds does he make)

Kyojuro grunts and moans a lot, not shying away from showing how much he’s enjoying himself. Sometimes he might get a little embarrassed by moaning too loudly, so he’d bury his face inside your neck while keeping a steady pace, whining a little at the feeling of you tightening around him. It makes him blush a little hearing the sounds he’s able to produce thanks to you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for him)

Kyojuro loves to have cuddly sex with you. Cuddles are already his favourite, so cockwarming him while he holds you close is the closest he can get to the holy gates of heaven. Feeling your warmth around his length makes him almost feel a little droopy, his face buried in your neck while trying to subtly grind his hips against yours to stimulate you as well. His hand would be tightly gripping onto your waist, steadying you while he gently thrusts inside you, not being able to handle just being inside you without moving.

“Can I move a little? I-I promise I’ll be gentle, love… Gods, I love you so so much..”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes…)

He’s physically impressive, just like the rest of him. Kyojuro is well endowed and proportional to his tall, broad and muscular frame. Sometimes he’s nervous about hurting you, but your delightful moans reassure him pretty quickly. His thickness watches his wrist.

His pubic hair is taken care of but he’s not completely clean shaven.

(Again, sorry for this being so short and having no measures. I honestly have no idea XD)

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Your husband’s drive is quite high given his passionate and energised personality, wich only increased after retirement. He will barely act on it though, being insecure about being too needy or too much for you. Instead, he suppresses his desires and waits until you come onto him first. That way he can be sure you really, really want him and are not just acting like you want to have sex just because he is horny.

The downside of him suppressing his lust is that it all comes out once you two have sex; he’ll eat you out, he’ll make you cum twice before even thinking about sliding his length in, and after he does, his hips smack against yours, creating an incredible lewd rhythm and loud moans.

Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

After a particularly long session, Kyojuro would be spent. He’d doze off almost immediately after making sure you’re okay and he didn’t got too harsh with you. His soft cheek would be pressed up against your arm, his snores vibrating through your whole body. His heavy arm would be draped over your chest. You couldn’t help but smile a little at how his squishy cheeks looked so cute and how cuddly he always got after sex. You can’t help but look forward to cooking together with him in the morning.

🎃

Hope it was worth the wait @akazasfiancee ! <3

Finally got this done! I hope you all enjoyed reading it<3 Again, thank you @erexart for the beautiful cover art, I’m so grateful for you being so patient and kind to be. I’ll be looking forward to seeing more of your gorgeous art!! Please go check her out!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here’s my October event masterlist 🎃