#there are love things that i am very bad at. i care. i can become obsessed. but i don't think i really love

[cute-little-fly]

We don’t agree on some part, but I will just say that not all the fans of Helluva Boss accused Octavia. (and actually I am making this comment just because you said this, otherwise I usually don’t like to interact with critics of the show because even if I think you are not analyzing it fairly, you can have the opinion you want)

Actually, a lot of us are fans of her, and we have made tons of posts explaining and defending Octavia’s position (because yes is true that a lot of people had those nasty comments; but actually inside the core of the defenders lr the show most of us defended Octavia); so yeah there are all kinds of opinions here. Is not fair to accuse all the fanbase of something just to sustain your criticism. We don’t all think the same.

Is a complex situation, where Stolas is depressed and was unable to be the father she deserved. But the thing is that he loves her, and he can improve and try.

She will decide if she forgives him, but the bond they shared and all the years Stolas took care of Octavia is what will make her forgive him (all the drawings of the paintings and pictures in the Sinsmas episode are proof but the show had already hinted that).

I don’t know why most of the Stolas critics dismiss this so much. I know that the series don’t show much of their previous interactions (like before Blitzø) for us to understand better, but why dismiss this? It was a lot of sacrifice and he did it for love and without asking for anything. Years and years of being for her, even in an unhappy marriage. No wonder why he felt into depression. He gave everything to her, and no one gave anything to him.

I would say the same about Stella, but she is distant with her and we don’t know her side of the story yet. She is meant to be evil and that’s fine.

I also would be fine with her being a 100% innocent victim along Stolas by the way, but the story is formulated in this way, because is the story they want to tell. They know what will happen later and what they want to do with Stella, so I prefer to give them the benefit of the doubt for now and respect their story. I actually would even agree (in this AU scenario) with a story where at the end Octavia understands everything and forgives both of his parents, is not because of “baby Stolas”. So please, can we just respect the story? This is not a flaw of the narrative, is just that you don’t like the situation the characters are put in… and you don’t like that Stolas is forgiven and Stella isn’t, but you know, these kind of mothers can exist.

In my country, there is one legal case that was very famous, where a trans woman earned the custody of a boy that was malnourished and hurt with his biological mother, that was unable to take care of him. So, why so much reticence to have an evil mom? This shit happens guys, these stories have all the right to be told, no matter if the good parent is a mother or a queer dad. The rest of moms in helluva boss are also good (they had tragic endings I know, just Millie’s mom is alive but still…).

The only evil female character that I remember is Stella, because Verosika will clearly be redeemed or at least she will have peace and closure at some extent, and probably be neutral to Blitzø at the end… Still, you complain.

I know that Stella could have been done better even as a villain, but her character error is not that she isn’t good or victim enough. Victims can also become abusers, and bad people if they are not treated or intervened early.

Lastly, I will just put a question to think:

Would you say the same if Stolas was Stella and Stella was Stolas? Like, would you say that Stolas is villainized so Stella can be the victim? I believe that a lot of people would not… if the answer is no, you have double standards.

A lot of critics also don’t want to understand that liking this story or couples doesn’t mean completely endorsing everything they do. We don’t see a baby Stolas (if you see something like that is just that we love the stupid owl, but most of those people won’t deny his mistakes), we see a broken man that was abused, neglected and alone his whole life that does terrible choices/actions bc of that trauma and that sadly, ended up damaging the people he loves the most because all of that.

You know they are trying, but sometimes they fuck up, but you also understand why and where they come from. This is a story where it is assumed that you are trying to understand why the characters do what they do (this includes Octavia) and that you look at them with compassion but also wishing them to improve and be the best they can be. Not that you just blindly endorse them, neither villainize them from their flaws.

Helluva Boss fans expect Octavia to be a bigger person than her own damn father. She's 17 and expected to be patient and hear out the father that, in her perspective, chose a man he cheated with over her. They put it on Octavia to be understanding of her poor daddy because "he was abused and how could she be so selfish whe should hear him out-"

Like I understand the writing of this show is middle school level and Stella is reduced to a stupid vapid evil flat cardboard of a character so Stolas can be free from all wrong doing because he has to be the victim-

But Octavia is a fucking kid. Stolas is a fucking adult. You can't put all the blame on Stella for Stolas's actions towards his own daughter. He did choose Blitzo over her.

Im not hear to talk about Stolas and Blitzo and Stella because that's a can of worms of sexual coercion and abuse and shit thats not handled with any dignity or grace and im tired of arguing about.

But Octavia is a kid and to see yall crucifing her because she's acting like a kid in a shit situation because your poor uwu owl boy got his feelings hurt.

Im tired of this fandom and this show only catering to Stolas and acting like he's the victim of everything.

And i know later the show will have Octavia found out about how her mom is just a cardboard flat bitch and the show will make her come to Stolas apologizing as if she's not the kid and he's the father in the situation.

Like I'm tired

[katyspersonal]

Thinking about that time when a popular artist was a prick to me personally (claimed that I "baited" them for a conflict when all I did was pointing out something in lore contradicting their claim, without any rudeness or condescension, and basically told me to go hang out with other autists instead of bothering them) but the reason I blocked them was not that, it was the fact that they've admitted on not even caring about the source material and just using scraps from it to do their own thing. Priorities hfngkfngj

[nightmare8-420]

i feel like a part of my soul has been ripped from my chest and i dont know why.

[red-dyed-sarumane]

one thing about me is i have very serious somewhat arbitrary opinions for things of and relating to aru sekai series & u will be hearing them

[losergender]

the more i read the faster the torture will end (yes im aware im choosing to do this and can stop when i want to)

okay back to titan attacks

"the truth of my life was becoming depressingly obvious: people didn't like me" alexis i know i said that i feel bad for you and stuff but you are also so unlikeable my dear. you never talk to anyone and your only 2 interests are mathematicians and classical music and you don't even bring them up when talking to people

stop guys she's wearing a black hoodie with a skull holding up a middle finger in the front

alexis this is why people dislike you.

alexis is on the pink press everyone

she keeps saying fluck instead of fuck

"the great war killing all our race was really bad for friendship" miss,,, miss do you hear yourself,,,

the one thing that annoys me the most about this book is that alexis cannot go two sentences without mentioning how she is suicidal and how she wants to die and straight up off herself and how despite having so many chances at it she never does it (WHICH IS COOL. DONT KILL YOURSELF PEOPLE) but she also never gives any explanation as to why not? like there was one chapter that in which she was at corfu w patrochilles and she was like "the best thing i could do was drown myself." cut to 3 paragraphs later, she's swimming with her pet because "she loves swimming." she's going through physical torture in the military thing they're at? "i wish i would die" "it's easier to die" "i'm gonna kms" "the moment i got a sec i was gonna kms." she gets close to death once and she's like "thank god i didn't die." which is a thing that happens. many people myself included who have experimented a near-death experience or real fear of death after/during suicidal ideation will come to a realization that maybe they didn't want to die and the cognitive disonance of "i wish i could kms but i dont want to die" is, i feel, a not all that widely explored topic in YA fantasy. and i think it's interesting, and it opens so many doors in terms of character development, and it could have make this book so, so much better. and instead not only is the chance not taken, but also, it turns sucide into a joke for 36 chapter and it makes is so that any mention of actual risk of death/suicide goes as a joke even if its serious.

(bonus points -> she has two very clear reasons as to why she can't die. one is that she's technically immortal which i dont really get bc shes meant to be in military school as a trial to see if she deserves immortality but also she and her classmates can already not be killed. except for the fact that. they can because 3 of them died. so whats the point idk. and i can only imagine how distressful it would be for someone who has suffered so much and is actively facing torture every day of their life that and who is suicidal to be suddenly told that she is never gonna die. and she doesn't mention that whole dilemma AT ALL. then, theres the fact that her little brother doesn't know where she's been the past months and he's still facing homelessness, this time by himself yes i still think he's dead. see, she brings up charlie like once every 3 chapters when she remembers to which i guess is a good amount. the idea of charlie is there either to make her feel guilty (when she has the wet dream) or to motivate her, because she wants to go back to him. BUT IT IS NEVER THERE TO MOTIVATE HER OUT OF HER SUICIDAL IDEATION? WHICH,,, AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO FINDS THIS A BIT RANDOM? like how come charlie is good motivation when you are being forced to run after weeks of starvation but he is never once mentioned when you are wishing you would kill yourself? why is it "i gotta survive this for charlie" and then immediately after "i should kms" and no mention of charlie? like it feels so,, idk. whatever. sure.)

back to reading

speechless

"at this point, i didn't care if carl gauss thought i wasn't accomplished in the after life (i cared). carl can suck on my... stuff."

YOU HAVE A NICE GUY GREETING YOU WITH A SMILE AND BEING FRIENDLY TO YOU IN SPITE OF THE FACT YOU HAVEN'T TALKED TO ANYONE BUT 1 GUY IN MONTHS, IN SPITE OF THE FACT NO ONE WANTS TO KNOW SHIT ABOUT YOU, IN SPITE OF THE FACT YOU'VE BEEN COMPLAINING ALL CHAPTER ABOUT HOW PEOPLE DISLIKE YOU?? AND YOUR REASON IS THAT HE IS TOO GRATEFUL AND CHEERFUL?? ALEXIS IM TRYING TO BE NICE TO YOU BUT MY GIRL I CANT

a titan just attacked in the chapter called titan attacks who's surprised

"ice covered" you're in a greek island in autumn why is there snow.

okay so. the titan attacked while they were running (they've a circuit they have to do often around the island) and most students went to hide but she stayed behind to help one who had fallen (and who now is dead) and then she started to attack the titan herself with a stone and stuff until kharon (the predator) came to finish him off. and now. i think he's gonna kiss her. which. to quote finn mertens, i nono wanna.

btw in case anyone's lost, there's two guys pursuing alexis, kharon (the predator) and augustus (the evil teacher slash pokemon sword guy) (and theyre lovers)

alexis youre stupid

c-ptsd flashback okay

oh and now kharon mister "she's prey",, mister "i'm gonna kill her", mister "i'll be your sworn enemy", miser "i wanna torture you" is like "nooo alexis :( i didnt mean to trigger you by threatening to beat you up"

"can i touch you" BROTHER YOU WERE HOLDING HER BY THE JAW SECONDS AGO AND HAVE BEEN TOUCHING YOURSELF TO HER FOR AGES. WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN 1 MINTE AGO AND NOW FOR YOU TO LEARN CONSENT

augustus' whole thing is that he's overprotective of women to the point he wants to control every single one of their actions and he's so controlling of alexis that he threatens to torture/actually tortures everyone who touches her including doctors im gonna scream

also can i just say they go through all this intensive physical training just for their weapons of choice to be. Guns.

welcome to sunny reacting to stuff in which sunny reacts to stuff. in this tumblr post, we're dealing with blood of hercules (the i'm a girl and as it turns out i'm hercules book) because i'm doing So Bad Mentally that i am in dire need of something that will make me laugh.

chapter 1 reaction below

montana?? out of all states?? okay go off

"kids at school called it apocalytic core. i called it hell" already laughing. i love my life decisions.

SUPERSEED I'M SORRY WHAT?

"if you wanted to live (i didn't)" you and me both bestie

does the author know verb tenses

i'm saying so little bc otherwise the post would be huge. every single sentence is hilariously bad this is so silly

summary if anyone is interested -> pretty unclear dystopian setting, 10-yo befriends an echidna named nyx and then gets a foster brother delivered to her room the next day. the titans are like superhumans killing normal people and the "spartans" are 12 protector families (8 are olympian, 4 are cthonic and those are dangerous murderers or something).

[daz4i]

i am not good at the whole love thing. but i try

[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

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@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[genderqueerdykes]

if you are a trans boy, especially a teenage trans boy, i wanted to say that as a trans man in their 30's, you have my deepest respects and condolences for what you may be going through right now.

it has become socially acceptable and basically online custom to bully teenage trans boys & mascs, call them cringy, or excuse misgendering them for whatever reason. people put trans boys on this pedestal of "must perform masculinity and manhood to cartoonish degrees" even though they're still children.

people make trans boys fight for their manhood before they can even be boys. i am sorry people can be so judgmental and harsh on you. you are not wrong for wanting to be a boy. you are experiencing something wonderful. it's okay if you still want to be a boy even if people have treated you poorly, or tried to make you feel bad for being a boy. there is nothing wrong with being a boy.

it's okay if you never socially transition. it's okay if you're afraid to come out because it's not safe. it's okay if you never change your outward appearance. it's okay if you try very hard to pass but struggle to. it's okay if you wear "women's" clothing and shoes, bras, makeup, etc., it's okay if you're gay and love other men. it's okay if you're scared of hrt. it's okay if you don't want surgery. it's okay if you mainly occupy girl's spaces still. people will find every reason to pick these things apart and ridicule trans boys for, but they are all perfectly fine experiences that do not make you any less of a boy. you are the one who is in control of your transition, presentation, and state of being- you should be able to prioritize your safety over the comfort of random strangers who have no impact over how you live your life.

i've been put through this too, but later in life as i came out when i was an adult. people still try to make me feel bad for identifying as a trans man, for whatever reason they have in their head to justify hatred of a trans person. i've had enough. there will never be an excuse for how people try to excuse the infantilization and abuse that trans men and trans boys face.

take care of yourselves, no matter what age you are, if you are a trans boy, man, or masc you deserve to know that other trans men care about you, especially when people are scrambling to find ways to punch down on you. there are people who suck, but there are also a lot of people who care about you. keep your chin up. you know who you are

[drchucktingle]

What do you think of people who are therian, otherkin, and alterhuman? Or, perhaps, the ideas of alterhumanity as a whole?

this is a good question had to look up what some of these things were, so bear in mind my understanding is limited and fresh, HOWEVER this one seems pretty easy for me to speak on philosophically because it falls under a BASE philosophy that i have always had

as far as identity and body, my trot is that everyone has the right to do whatever they want with their body, which includes of course things like gender affirming ways (or even humanity affirming or unaffirming aways). that also includes ways in which you identify yourself.

some otherwise well meaning buckaroos get wrapped up in things like 'well i am okay with the standard pronouns but what about neo pronouns of buds who say they identify as non human or a dang tree.' i mean WE ALL KNOW there is the old scoundrel joke about attack helicopters and the thing is this: i genuinely, sincerely, without any reservations believe you can legitimately identify as a helicopter.

who am i to say you are not one? how do we even define what a HUMAN or UNHUMAN is in this swirling mix of matter and energy? is there even really a point where i end and you begin? there are OF COURSE standard answers to this that help us get through the day in a material way, but i feel like once you start talking PHILOSOPHY AND EXISTENCE and really ZOOM OUT then you are opening things up to a grander perception of this timeline, where things like 'what even IS my body?' become very abstract

in a world where all i REALLY know is that 'i think therefore i am' i am not really ready to start imposing strict definitions of these things on other people

what i personally care about is RESPECTING others and showing them kindness. so if someone is identifying in a way that is unusual (not in the sense of bad but in the sense of literally not usual) i will always just say 'okay that is very cool and exciting thank you for telling me'. i mean HECK, as a non dysphoric trans person i identify in a technically unusual way.

it is SO EASY to just 'yes and' other buckaroos expression of themselves. it is SO EASY to just 'yes and' love and exploration. so i fully support and am excited about and whole heartedly believe in any way that buds see themselves fitting into this timeline

[no-144444]

the disgraced pop princess

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summary: oscar is your salvation after things go horribly wrong

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! reader

warnings: TALK OF SA and cyberbullying

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comments

user13: WHAT THE FUCK

user15: This is all her fault. She's a bad person

-> user16: Where did you get that from? An anonymous twitter account?

user14: I AM A CHILD OF DIVORCE

Alexy/l/n: ❤️❤️❤️

CharlesOBrien: the end.

DarrelBowser: fin.

user82: WTF.

user45: how could she ruin this? doesn't she care about the fans?

-> user38: you have no idea what happened? stfu

oscarpiastri: GUYS I'M FREAKING OUT RN WTF.

-> user55: WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

-> logansargeant: he's been a WINGS fan since he was a teenager. He's been in love with Y/n Y/l/n name since he was like 15.

-> landonorris: Can confirm he's having a breakdown rn.

-> alexalbon: It's all too much for little oscar piastri

->zbrown: Zandvoort is fucked isn't it? @/landonorris @/oscarpiastri

-> landonorris: Sadly, yes.

-> oscarpiastri: VERY MUCH SO, YES.

user90: oscar piastri being a WINGS fan was not on my 2024 bingo card tbh.

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BREAKING NEWS! POPULAR MUSIC GROUP ‘WINGS’ HAVE ANNOUNCED THE END OF THEIR WORLD TOUR, AND THEIR BAND! 

Speculation has been flying for weeks due to various sources giving people an inside look into popular music group ‘Wings’. Many fans have been left wondering in recent weeks as the band has been seen arguing on stage, not speaking to each other off-stage, and even some of them have been refusing to go on and perform. Many people have been trying to point fingers to who’s at fault for the end of this historic music group, and  various pieces of evidence against the front woman Y/n Y/l/n, the singer, songwriter, and lead bass guitarist of the group. Many pieces against her have been posted to the popular anonymous twitter account  ‘@/anonymousmail’, detailing how she has been treating the rest of the band badly, by not letting them write their own music, becoming too controlling over the band, and even going as far as to threaten other members of the band. 

Late last night after their last of 5 shows in Las Vegas at the historical Westgate Las Vegas Resort & Casino, where rock and roll legend, Elvis Presley played for years, the front woman Y/n Y/l/n posted a photo of her hugging her brother (and fellow band member), Alex Y/l/n with the caption ‘the end of it all. 12 year old me is crying. so is 22 year old me. bye for now and ever.’. On stage, they announced they were parting ways and were all in tears as they left. 

This looks like the end for the group, and this publication is sad to see them go. We wish them all good luck, and we will keep our readers posted on any drama from the unravelling group. 

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BREAKING NEWS! ‘WINGS’ LEAD GUITARIST SPEAKS OUT AGAINST Y/N Y/L/N!

In a new-deleted instagram story, the lead guitarist of the band called out Y/n Y/l/n with this statement 

‘Good f*****g riddance to that b***h . F******g fame-hungry c**t who could never sing for s**t. Good f**k tho’

This left fans shocked, as Y/l/n has said in the past that they were ‘all friends and would always respect each other, even if the band broke up’ (2021 interview with Vogue). Many people have shipped the two online due to their flirty stage-presence and good banter in interviews, but they always vehemently denied the claims that they were together. In other shocking news, it seems the rest of the band Charles O’Brien (lead guitarist), Alex Y/l/n (new lead singer, ‘Wings’ second guitarist), Darrel Brown (drummer), and Axel Smith (new bass guitarist) will be continuing on with ‘Wings’ as this was posted to the band social media account just days after their announced split. 

Y/n Y/l/n has refused to comment and all her social media accounts have gone dark. We’ll keep you updated!

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comments

user12: ZAK BROWN IS WILDIN

user59: HE GETS US, BRING BACK THE REAL WINGS

landonorris: bro plz don't jump wtf

alexalbon: we're here for you buddy :)

logansargeant: he's crying in my driver's room rn. he's unconsolable.

-> user90: bro is DOWN BAD.

mclaren: Please don't crash the car Oscar. We'll bribe you.

-> user47: this is insane.

User58: hey so you're crazy.

georgerussel: We're here for you mate :(

lewishamilton: Missing WINGS rn.

user83: i feel bad that oscar just found out his celebrity crush is a bad person :(

-> user33: phone down. NOW. it's an anonymous twitter account with no credibility.

user55: what Charles said about her was mental.

-> oscarpiastri: AGREED. I ALWAYS HATED HIM.

-> landonorris: PUBLIC ACCOUNT.

-> WINGSfanno1: ur right, my b. AGREED. I ALWAYS HATED HIM.

-> user88: no way oscar piastri has a WINGS fan account 🤣🤣🤣

hater66: I hate Y/n, oscar should too.

hater36: she's a slut and an awful person.

hater22: Y/N Y/L/N HATE CLUB!

->hater82: me too!

->hater100: me too!

->hater3792: me too!

->hater38: me too!

->hater202: me too!

->hater26: me too!

->hater77: me too!

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BREAKING NEWS! Y/N Y/L/N IS SET TO BE ATTENDING THE DUTCH GRAN PRIX THIS WEEKEND!

According to anonymous sources, Y/n Y/l/n will be attending the Dutch Gran Prix this weekend. This comes as a shock since she's deactivated her instagram, most likely due to the break-up of her band. The rest of WINGS will also be in attendance, all as guest of McLaren, whereas Y/n is a guest of Sir. Lewis Hamilton, in the Mercedes garage. They have been seen in public recently and have been sparking dating rumours, despite their age difference. Many fans are now speculating that another reason the band broke up is the supposed cheating rumours. Y/l/n was apparently dating lead guitarist Charles O'Brien, but cheated on him with 7 time World Champion, Lewis Hamilton. Their paparazzi photos certainly seem to paint a picture...

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

You woke up puffy-eyed and angry. 3 days ago, you were on tour living your life to the fullest, singing and touring with your best friends, and your chosen family. At least, that's what you thought they were. It turns out they'd all been trying to get you out of the band that you started, for a couple of months now. They'd been lying to the press about you, making every little thing you did seem worse than it was, and your 'best friend' Charles O'Brien decided it was time to get you drunk enough to sleep with him.

You felt used. Every time you four went in for a record session, a new contract, a new show, you were told that you were the only reason the band was famous. You were the real talent.You were the moneymaker. You always brushed it off, telling them that you were so good, because the band was so good. You didn't give a fuck about people telling you to get out before they swindled you and felt you in the dirt. Now you wished you had listened. Now you wished you hadn't seen so blind to their blatant disregard for you. Now you wished you'd broken off from them years ago, even your brother.

Charles had been the backbone of getting you out, that you knew. He'd always hated how you got credit for making the band popular, when it really was you who made the band popular. It had been your idea to start a youtube channel at 12 years old, it had been your idea to enter your schools battle of the bands at 13 years old, and it was you who took the risk and trusted a manager for the first time, even going as far as being the only one to sign the contract, so they could always get out of it. You'd always been so considerate, so protective, so blind.

Today was the Dutch Gran Prix, and Lewis had decided it would be best for you to get out of the hotel room you'd been rotting in and come visit him for the race. You'd been to Gran Prix's before, but mostly when you were younger and not in the middle of a world tour, like you had been for the past year and a half. You left your room looking better than you had in days, you'd done your makeup, worn your favourite outfit, and you'd finally stopped crying. Small victories, right? You hadn't checked social media in days, you knew what you'd find, and you didn't want to know what everyone thought of you. You just wanted it all to stop.

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liked by nicolepiastri, charlesobrien and 772,922 more.

comments

alexalbon: Ok this is becoming pathetic now

-> logansargeant: YOU ONLY THINK IT'S PATHETIC NOW?

georgerussel: Poor kid :(

maxverstappen: 🤣🤣🤣🤣

danielriccardo: I'll swing by with some food. We can cry together brother

-> oscarpiastri: the only real one on the grid 💔💔💔 love you daniel

-> logansargeant: mate I held you when you cried last night.

-> oscarpiastri: and you're still complaining about it. Daniel doesn't complain.

nicolepiastri: Kids these days...

hattiepiastri: please take his phone away from him @/logansargeant, I can't handle anymore embarrassment.

-> logansargeant: I'm trying, I promise.

user67: can we talk about zak brown, wtf?

-> zbrown: he's too sexy to die (and crash my car)??? what don't u get????

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

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

As you walked into the paddock beside Lewis, you felt the cameras on you. He was trying to shield you, but it wasn't exactly working.

"Y/n, how do you feel about what Charles said about you?!" "Y/n, are you and Lewis together? Did you cheat on Charles?"

What? How could you cheat on Charles when you weren't even dating him? That made no fucking sense. He'd assaulted you. You were going through the motions of suing him. How could anyone think you'd willingly have sex with the boy you'd seen as a brother for the past 22 years of your life?

"Follow me," Lewis whispered, leading you further away from the McLaren garage. "Don't worry about them, they're not going to talk to you."

You nodded, trying to put on a brave face as he led you to the Mercedes garage. You were used to the paddock, Lewis had known you since you were a young teenager embarking on your first tour with a new record deal, he'd shown you around as you stood nervous, just trying to do everything right, make yourself and the band look good. He gave you an important piece of advice that day.

"You don't need to worry about the cameras or the press, be yourself and the rest will come naturally."

A piece of advice you'd followed through your teenage years, and now into your 20's. You were scared again, but this time, you were alone. No band behind you, your brother wasn't there to protect you, and everyone hated you, for no good reason.

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

As you sat down in the paddock, Toto gave you a look of pity.

"How's my favourite popstar?" He smirked, trying to cheer you up.

"Disgraced," you groaned, and leaned your head against his shoulder. Mercedes had been like a second family to you, you'd met everyone back when you were 14, just about to start a tour after a song you posted online went viral. Your first stop was Silverstone, playing for so many people made you want to run and hide instead of play, but Lewis and Toto had helped you out, calmed you down, and you'd smashed it. It skyrocketed your fame, and got you an extended record deal.

He sighed. "Not for long. Don't let the boys win, it's always a boy's world."

You chuckled. "Thanks Toto."

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

Oscar jogged out of the McLaren garage as WINGS walked in. Logan had promised to let him stay at Williams if the band were too much for him, and he'd just had to listen to Charles O'Brien talk to his race engineer about how it was to fuck you. He felt sick to his stomach, and he didn't have anything else to do ahead of today, so off he went.

"Oscar!" Lewis's voice rung out and Oscar stopped in his tracks, turning to see where it was coming from. "Come here!"

Oscar walked over, confused by the sentiment. Lewis and Oscar didn't often speak before races. He walked over all the same, and there you were. Standing beside him looking gorgeous and flawless, and he knew he was fucked.

"Hi, I'm Y/n," you held out your hand to be shaken, and he did so with vigour, almost squeezing too hard.

"I'm Oscar," he smiled, then dropped your hand.

"See, I am a miracle worker," Logan's voice appeared out of nowhere, and Oscar whipped his head around to see him smirking. "I'm Logan," he introduced himself to you with a handshake which you reciprocated. "Oscar is basically in love with you and your music-"

"Mate!" Oscar tried to cover his mouth, but Logan was already in a laughing fit, as Lewis laughed with him. "I am so sorry about him, he's-"

"It's alright," you smiled. "It's honestly just nice to know that not every WINGS fan hates me now."

He frowned. "I'm really sorry about the break, it must've been awful."

You shrugged. "It was what was best for the band."

"I seriously doubt that. You were like, more than half the reason anyone ever listened," he chuckled. "You're amazing."

You felt yourself heat up. "Thank you. I think you're a pretty amazing driver."

"You watch F1?" He asked.

"Oh yeah, Lewis would kill me if I didn't," you chuckled. "It's also just really interesting, and congratulations on being like, the best rookie of all time."

He blushed and smiled. "Thank you."

You heard a camera snap and the small moment you two were having was ruined. Lewis and Logan had left you two to chat, and obviously now it looked... strange to say the least.

"God, I'd better go, sorry. You probably don't want to be seen with me-"

"I'd rather formulate my own opinion on you, rather than listen to what everyone else is saying. Do you want to go for a walk?"

You smiled, a real, genuine smile. "Yeah, that'd be lovely."

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

"So... how are you?" he asked as you walked through the crowds of people.

"I'm alright," you answered hesitantly. "Charles isn't making anything easy."

Oscar sighed. "He's definitely not an easy person to be around."

"You met him?"

"For about 5 minutes before I had to leave so I wouldn't punch him," he chuckled.

You laughed. "He's good at first impressions."

"Evidently," Oscar smirked.

"Yeah it just sucks that he aired all that shit out y'know? It's just... so unfair, especially when the court case is still being pieced together by our lawyers-"

"Wait, what? What do you mean 'court case'?"

"I'm suing him, he assaulted me," you shrugged.

"Holy shit, I'm so sorry," he stopped and took your hand. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

You stopped for a moment. In the last 72 hours, no one had apologised, no one had checked in, and no one had been so heartbroken for you. Did he have to be perfect?

"T-thank you," you sniffled. "I'd better go, it was nice to meet you, b-bye Oscar."

Oscar was left standing outside Ferrari as you walked off to the Mercedes garage. He felt awful, no one should have that happen to them, and you were so sweet and kind, he almost couldn't believe someone would take advantage of that. He knew one thing though, he needed to see you again.

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

comments

hater56: why is lewis still hanging out with her....

hater52: LEWIS RUN

hater79: lewis get away from the slut plz

oscarpiastri: ❤️❤️❤️❤️

-> lewishamilton: out of my comment section now.

-> y/nyl/n: stfu lewis

hater67: how is she still famous?

alexalbon: PLZ LET HER SWING BY WILLIAMS

-> logansargeant: I SECOND THIS ^^^^^

-> y/ny/l/n: omw rn

-> oscarpiastri: same. (just a conincidence)

-> logansargeant: 🧐🧐🧐

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

comments

hater77: she's so annoying, why does he like her?

-> oscarpiastri: girl. have you seen or meet her? THAT'S WHY

user66: This is insane.

alexalbon: nurse he's out again! -> logansargeant: he's scoping out Williams to find her. come back soon plzzzz

lewishamilton: it was embarrassing...

georgerussell: good luck with keeping away from you @/y/ny/l/n !

-> y/ny/l/n: 👍👍👍👍

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

Oscar walked into Williams with one objective, to see you. He needed to talk to you again. As he was searching, he finally bumped into you.

"You found me," you smiled.

"I did," he smiled. "And I was wondering if you'd want to talk more."

"Well, right now I have to get to Mercedes," you explained and he deflated slightly. "But I can give you my number and we can get dinner sometime?"

He was elated.

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

Months of texting and dating, healing with Oscar, getting into the studio, and finally, your next single was ready. It was called 'Labyrinth', and it was about how Oscar had turned everything around for you. He was perfect. Kind, a gentleman, funny, sweet, everything. You loved him. He loved you.

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

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[pandemic-info]

"Any chance we're wrong about Covid?"

It's a valid question many people earnestly think about — even the very cautious.

'it becomes important to ask: "what does the data actually say?"'

Quoting a few good answers from a thread:

"Covid left me disabled in 2020. I know with 100% certainty that I am not wrong about Covid. I live with the proof every minute of every day for the rest of my life."

"The insurance companies and government statisticians care, or rather they have taken an objective interest." > https://fred.stlouisfed.org/series/LNU01074597 > https://insurancenewsnet.com/innarticle/insurance-industry-coalition-forms-non-profit-to-study-excess-mortality

"There are parallels between how governments are responding to COVID-19 and how they responded to tobacco back in the day. “it would be a mistake to assume governments would automatically protect people from a public health threat in the face of more immediate economic considerations…there would be resistance to change that might be costly until evidence to justify it was overwhelming.”" > https://johnsnowproject.org/insights/merchants-of-doubt/

"I suspect most of us entertain this thought from time to time, especially when it’s this absurdly difficult and lonely to maintain a Covid Conscious lifestyle. But it’s important to remember that history is littered with people making terrible choices en masse: with handling past pandemics, the holocaust, slavery, witch burnings, etc. Hell pretty much everyone used to smoke and putting lead in everything was A-ok. Just because a lot of people believe something doesn’t mean they’re right. So it becomes important to ask what does the data actually say? The research and the statistical data on this subject paint an ugly but fairly quantifiable picture by which we can gauge our understanding of the situation and our choices in response to it. Read the science. Look at the data on things like Long Covid. There are also many of us who have already had our health absolutely ravaged by this virus or lost loved ones to it etc., and everyone in that position has first hand evidence for how dangerous this virus is. It’s tremendously difficult to swim against the current like we are and self-doubt is natural in those conditions, but that’s when seeking out factual information on the subject is the best course of action."

"But what it all comes back to for me is - say we're wrong, and covid is a big nothingburger and lockdowns are the root of all evil. Ok, well, what I'm doing is acting on the best information available to me at this time to protect my family. I can't regret that. I will always be able to look my kids in the eye and say "I did my best with what I had."" ... So if we're wrong - well, we wore masks, changed our social habits, reduced our consumerism and our contribution to the destruction of our planet, and reduced how often we got sick. None of those things are bad. If they're wrong, they and their kids are screwed. I'd rather err on the side of caution.

[pinkhoodi]

bat dads or girl dads ? girl dads !

✎ᝰ — bat boys as girl dads !

♡⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff + children ??

♡⃕ — a/n: dick as a father would make me- nvm that !

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ “no” rarely exists and he realized that a while ago. when his beautiful daughter was first born, he would be stern (still loving) and make sure to deny any of his daughter’s requests. as years go and his daughter gets older, it becomes harder to say no to his precious child

Ꮺ he won’t admit it but it’s something about her adorable features that make it harder and harder to say no. even if it’s the most wildest request, he’ll try to accomplish it or tell her “I’ll think about it”. the cute pout, the ways her eyes widen, and her adorable going please please please dad. how can he say no :(

Ꮺ BUT if he can’t obtain that request, his favorite excuse is “I’ll think about it”. even when his daughter catches onto his games, he’ll continue use it and just throw on an extra lie to help out

Ꮺ bruce is the dilf that everyone flirts with and it’s exhausting for him. he tries to avoid pta meetings at all costs but can’t cause his daughter loves those meetings. while the women flirt, the daughter gets free cookies ;p

Ꮺ this man bruce is studying long and gruesome hours on how to raise a girl. raising his eldest son at ten years old is the closest thing he had and it wasn’t helping. prepare yourself for the “am I doing this right?” “is this good for her?” “are you sure this is what we should give her?”

Ꮺ surprisingly, he became quickly accustomed to his bat cave and his office being glittered and glammed. the buttons on the monitor have stickers and his batmobile having a bow on it

Ꮺ learning from his mistakes from his other children, he will try to leave little to no detail about his night activities to his daughter. she knows about the bat cave (due to exploring and being bored in the mansion) but he refuses to take her on missions and don’t allow her to be in the bat cave if the mission is extremely dangerous

Ꮺ daddy-daughter days is something bruce prioritizes! he doesn’t care what is planned before or after that, he’ll make one day every month to spend time with his daughter. whether it be going to the mall, the movies, spending the day at a kids play center, or even napping. that day in his calendar is meant for his daughter and his daughter only

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ the most laidback father you could ever meet BUT he knows when it’s time to be concerning and when it’s time to be the fun dad

Ꮺ the man almost passed out when his gorgeous daughter was born. he couldn’t take how adorable his lil girl was in the room, he had to step out and started crying. he couldn’t believe he’s a father now :(

Ꮺ it does take jason time to adjust being a father. his patience isn’t the best but he is learning ! he tries as much as he can to unpack all his bad qualities and become better for his daughter before she was born

Ꮺ as much as he is laidback, he is also very cautious and makes sure to have all his weapons away and locked up from his daughter. he refuses to let ANY incident happen just cause he was being careless

Ꮺ he is one to always allow his daughter to decorate his face, no matter how ridiculous he looks. he’ll gladly pose with stickers on his eyelids, three bows on his head and one tied on his wrist, and heart glasses on if it makes his daughter happy

Ꮺ his daughter is lowkey his mood maker. he won’t admit but however his daughter feels is how HE feels. but he won’t take it out on her, absolutely not ! if she’s grumpy, he’s grumpy with her. she’s hungry ? he’s hungry as well. even if he’s feeling fine, he’ll play along with her so she can get what she want from YOU (mischievous mfs mmcht)

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ the most girliest dads of all girl dads <333. he’s there for any and everything and is NEVER one to say no to his daughter. though sometimes he doesn’t realize when to be a disciplined dad and a fun dad

Ꮺ he’ll make sure to never, and I mean never, have his daughter follow into the life that he is in. as much he enjoys saving gotham and bludhaven, he refuses to let his daughter lead into a life of danger and being unsure of whether or not he’ll be home soon

Ꮺ he has an endless amount of pics of him and his daughter. his lockscreen is you and him holding her at six months old, his homescreen being his daughter at one years old, and even his voicemail is him and his daughter saying hi and sorry to miss your call

Ꮺ being a dad is something dick cherishes so much and he’ll gift everything his child wants and more. he’ll do any and everything to have his daughter be happy, even if he can’t get it

Ꮺ between him and his daughter, the exchanges of “I love you dad” and “I love you more” happen more on his side. many “I love yous” as the two of them giggle and he kisses her forehead. they’re so cute :(

Ꮺ unlike bruce, he loves going to pta meetings. he does get uncomfortable with the flirting from other moms but he’s really only there for the free treats and how to better improve his daughter’s education

Ꮺ the biggest gift giving dad as well ! he likes coming home with a surprise in his hand and hearing his daughter gasp and smile at the gift in his hand. it warms his heart when she says thank you and hugs his leg tightly, nearly squeezing it with the gift in her hand

Ꮺ the two nap a lot together. it’s one of dick’s favorite pastime when he’s relaxing with crime fighting

♡⃕ the bat boys as girl dads ☹️🫶🏽. it would be uber cute seeing jason walk into his helmet decorated in barbie stickers

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: 2 thessalonians 3:3

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

[bunnysdollette]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁ Main character energy ⟢ ⭐️

⟢ Heyy angels!! today, I’m gonna share my top secret formula on how to start attaining what I like to call main character energy. This will be a long post sharing all my secrets on how I’m working to become THAT GIRL. ♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ WHAT IS MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY? 🕯️ ⊹₊⟡⋆

• main character energy is basically walking into a room with all eyes on you, full of confidence, joy, and hypnotic magnetism.

• if you want to start feeling like that girl, first you have to realize that you already ARE. YOU are the main character of your life. YOU are the star.

• it’s extremely important not to flip flop with this mindset, or it literally won’t work. in order to persist in this idea I really reccommend manifesting it and listening to SUBS that help affirm that “main character” identity you’re going for. my fav sub I use to manifest a sweet, magnetic, and feminine energy . .

the sweetest girl they know works so welll ♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SETTING THE STAGE 🎀 ⊹₊⟡*

• main character energy is a FEELING. In order for you to harness that powerful energy, you have to set the stage in your life

•what do I mean? Removing bad influences from your life. How do you expect to be an admirable and magnetic person if you’re surrounded by terrible people?

• anyone who is vibrating on a very low level threatens your ability to elevate your own self. you are who you surround yourself with so choose your friends wisely.

• you should also actively try to curate your social media feed and social space with things that are positive and helpful. social media has a HUGE impact on us and it should be used for our improvement, not to bring us down.

another way I love to do this is MUSIC! you can create an uplifting and confidence boosting playlist full of songs you like.

for example I really like songs like perfect night by le sserafim (kinda controversial ngl…) my world, lucky girl syndrome by illit, a lot of ari grande songs too. ♡ also girlblogging duh and looking at other girlblogs.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STOP TAKING SHIT 🩰 ⊹₊⟡

• Stop TAKING SHIT from others. You are a walking goddess capable of doing amazing things, who is actively trying to better themselves. Who are you to take someone else’s crap?

• Walk with purpose and confidence, show people that you are secure in yourself. BUT when people are disrespectful to you. DO NOT LET IT SLIDE. That sets a terrible precedent for how others can treat you.

• You CAN Respond in a mature and calm way. But sometimes ignoring it and simply not letting it affect you can work too. Acknowledge what was said, take a deep breath and move forward. Let it go and don’t let anyone else’s comments hinder your journey. You are the one in control.

ways I calmly respond to people trying to check me:

• friend gossiping about me? bye!

• someone’s whispering under their breath about me? block out their voice and instead think about how perfect and beautiful I am.

• someone spreading rumors about me? Correct them to people who may bring them up around me, but be okay with that being misunderstood as long as it isn’t something genuinely harmful that requires adult intervention

• literally anyone has anything to say about me? distance myself from them. they aren’t worth my time, presence nor my precious energy. make that known.

my other post on this which I’m currently working on redoing. . here

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PUTTING YOU FIRST 🍵 ⊹₊⟡

• put you first ALWAYS. you are the main character in this life, not everyone and everything is worth your attention! never feel obligated to go above and beyond for someone who doesn’t deserve it.

• self care should be a huge priority in your life, because the most important relationship you will ever have with someone in your life is with YOURSELF. it will dictate everyone according to your mindset, the way you view yourself, and the WORLD.

ways I started putting me first:

• dropping the people pleaser thing: practicing saying “no” or “I don’t want to” or “I didn’t like that” in the mirror, then trying my best to apply that in everday life

• stopped answering random unplanned calls from people when I knew I was busy and texting them when I could talk

• stopped agreeing to every hangout as well

• I stayed kind, but I stopped letting people treat me like a doormat.

• letting go when people were displeased with something I said or did.

⟢ that’s basically some of the three main points I had in this post, didn’t wanna make it tooo long. I hope something in here helped someone today and as always stay cute dolls. my inbox is always open for cuties who wanna ttm ♡

[wishfulsketching]

wow your comics are stunning! the vanco especially is so effortlessly beautiful and well structured. Do you have a tutorial on how you make comics? Your panel work and composition is especially great, would love to know more about the process

THANK YOUUU. I am not really good with tutorials, hah. My comic process is also very much "I want to do this NOW!" and then I do it. I don't do any script, I sketch full sized thumbnails and write the "kind like this" versions of the dialogue into the thumbnails (or I won't and after I'll be like hmm I wonder what I wanted to do here).

Here's the steps of my latest little comic:

These are my thumbnails. My main goal when I start a page is to do a simple 1. Establish where we are 2. Establish who are there

I am not good with establishing shots tbh. They kill me every time. With fancomics it's easier because I don't even have to show The Last Drop because of course these idiots would be there :D

After the rough idea I do the actual sketch that I will use to help me do lineart. Just very simple and usually the characters are just their most important features. Sometimes you can barely recognize them.

Here's the final one just for comparison.

With the bigger comic I posted yesterday, I just love making movement that carries through the panels. When I know I have to add lots of dialogue to explain things, I'll make the characters do something at the same time

I just wanted to make this casual/domestic moment of bitching about life while Vander is being caring and Silco accepts it.

With composition and panel work, idk, it usually comes down to what mood I want/what I want to show (expressions usually) OR. What I don't want to show :D When you want to be lazy, you will become creative! And nobody will know!

I am very fond of breaking the panels to kinda showcase change, I guess. I do it a lot. With like the effect of the next panel entering the previous one or with speech bubbles.

With this one I had to come up with ways to transition to all the scenes within the "memory" and it was pretty fun yet also made me anxious because I also had to keep the pace up.

I draw quick and I am pretty confident with my control over my lines, so I don't really have any tips for lineart. One thing I do wanna say is that you have to learn to let go. I want to fix so much from the headcanon comic I did. I won't. It's not bad, it's just not perfect. It wouldn't be perfect even if I would fix it.

[chadleys]

moon sick. | astarion

›› pairing: astarion x f!reader

›› wordcount: 2.5k

›› genre: smut, established relationship

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: whilst on the road, you get your period. astarion, being the loving, caring, supportive boyfriend he is, offers to help. he has no ulterior motives. obviously.

›› warnings: period sex, bloodplay, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk

you wake with a start, astarion’s cold arm a comforting weight across your waist. you can’t think what could have possibly woken you up so suddenly, as you listen for any untoward noises around camp. but there’s only astarion’s steady, gentle breathing behind you and gale’s obnoxious snoring echoing from the other end of the clearing.

as you settle back down on your bedroll, however, you become aware of something sticky and wet between your legs. could be that a wet dream concerning your beloved has you in such a state, but you don’t remember dreaming of him last night. no, now that your senses are returning to you, you remember that last night was reserved for another visit from your so-called guardian. so what … ?

you toss your end of the blanket aside and groan, throwing your head back against the pack you’ve set out for a makeshift pillow. doing so earns you another yelp; must have made contact with one of the stems of the many apples wedged into your supply bag.

astarion is on his feet in an instant, startling you; you weren’t even aware he was awake. not that elves ever truly sleep. it always slightly unnerves you to feel him levitating beside you in his meditative state. ❝ you’re hurt. ❞ his voice is rough, thick with inertia. ❝ i swear i’ll find whoever did this and bleed them dry. we should never have trusted that damned cleric; shar this and shar that. i’ll shove her blessed shar right up her — ❞

he’s already kicking his own pack aside to stomp his way out of the tent when you hiss, ❝ astarion! ❞

luckily he’s not too aggravated to stop and give you a glance back so you can explain in a low murmur, ❝ it’s my cycle … ❞

astarion stops short, one pale hand clutched to his chest. ❝ oh … i — ❞ he waves that same hand now toward the opening of his tent. ❝ i thought … ❞

❝ i know what you thought, ❞ you sigh, more weary knowing what’s to come over the next 7 days than you are of him, than you could ever be of him. ❝ but it’s not. so just come back to bed. please? ❞

❝ i thought you’d never ask … ❞ he purrs, back to his normal self.

unfortunately, you’re doubled over in pain before he’s even halfway back.

❝ i knew you were in pain. ❞ astarion’s back at your side in a flash. ❝ just tell me who and i’ll — ❞

❝ i am, ❞ you gasp, ❝ in pain. but … not because anyone hurt me. well, more like mother nature cursed me. ❞

a particularly bad cramp seizes you and your hand flies out, clutching the front of astarion’s silky tunic. you press your fingers in to feel his cold, broad chest. the sensation calms you a bit … until yet another bout of pain rolls through your midsection.

icy fingers find yours, ghosting over your knuckles. ❝ shall i … see if the druid can make you something? ❞

you shake your head, tugging at his shirt. ❝ just lay with me. please. ❞

astarion’s skin is blessedly cool against yours, as it always is. you lean into him, pressing your face against his frigid neck, soothing your burning cheeks.

his glacial hands find the edge of your tunic, and then the small of your back, which helps more than he could possibly know. you shudder against him, pushing, trying to get more of him.

❝ you know … ❞ astarion sniffs, delicate voice very close to your ear. ❝ i have heard of one thing that is guaranteed to relieve moon sickness. ❞

pulling back, you glance curiously up at him.

he has that rakish grin on his face that you’ve come to know all too well in the past weeks. his reddened eyes roll away from you. ❝ come now, pup. you must know what i mean … sex. ❞ your heart jumps into your throat at the thought; you’re sure astarion can feel it beating harder against his own chest.

suddenly, his mouth is just under your ear, teeth rasping against the exact place he’s fed from you dozens of times before. ❝ i can smell it, my love. ❞

you don’t answer immediately; while you can’t deny the thought appeals to you, if for no other reason than to rid yourself of these damnable cramps, you’re also apprehensive. astarion feeding from your neck is one thing — still intimate, but relatively normal by vampire standards. to have astarion feed down there, on that blood, feeding from your womb …

❝ you’re right, it’s a bad idea, absolutely disgusting. i don’t know why i — ❞

❝ do it. ❞

❝ eh … hm? ❞

❝ do it, ❞ you repeat, grasping onto him for dear life as another squeezing, crushing shock of pain settles in your stomach. ❝ please, astarion. i can’t take it anymore. ❞

it’s been many moons since your cycle has been this bad. traveling on the road without proper food or rest may finally be catching up to you, exacerbating things. not much you can do about that until you reach the city, though.

other than letting your vampire lover drink your blood, of course.

laying you gently back without another complaint, astarion slips the blanket off of you and reaches to undo your breeches.

anxiety overtakes you; there’s already blood on your trousers and the blanket, you’re going to have to wash them in the river as soon as you’re able. you can’t even imagine the scene underneath your pants … but you’re about to find out.

gently, astarion prizes the trousers from your legs, then gasps softly. ❝ oh, my love … ❞

prying your eyes from the ceiling of the tent, you finally look down. astarion is there, of course, looking lovely as always. except, however, the lines on his face look deeper, almost carved, and the dark circles under his eyes are darker, his eyes redder.

another spell of panic grips you; bright red blood is smeared across your inner thighs.

astarion looks dizzy as he takes you in, cold hands cradling the outsides of your legs. you’re about to apologize and shove him away, tell him this is a mistake, in fact you will ask halsin to make you something — and that’s when astarion mutters, ❝ you are exquisite, ❞ and dives in to have his first taste.

the feeling of his tongue on your thighs makes you shiver, and the cool night air wafting in from the tent flap isn’t helping. you grab the clean end of the blanket and drape your upper half, canting your hips up to tell astarion what it is you truly want.

because even through all the anxiety, there’s also a bubble of arousal blooming between your legs. astarion can’t tell, of course, not through all the blood down there, but you sure as hell can. you have the most perfect creature you’ve ever set eyes on between your legs; how could you not be aroused?

❝ all in due time, ❞ astarion chuckles, voice muffled against your thighs as he continues to clean you up. thoroughly. too thoroughly.

❝ you always tease, ❞ you whine, knocking one of your knees against his ribcage.

this time when his gaze flashes sharply to you, his eyes are the reddest you’ve ever seen them. it makes you shake.

astarion’s nails dig into your hips, deliciously, wickedly. you tremble, reaching for him. he chuckles and kisses the inside of one of your wrists, which leaves a smear of blood. ❝ always such a needy little pup for me, aren’t you? ❞

you don’t even have time to nod before he dives back in, his mouth exactly where you want it this time. his lips suction around your clit, tongue lapping out lower down to scoop a sizeable pearl of blood into his mouth.

this time, astarion is the one who shakes. he lays his cheek against your still-bloody thigh and shudders. ❝ you’re going to be the death of me, ❞ he sighs, and you can see him skirting his tongue around his mouth, flitting over his lips, savoring you.

you huff. ❝ you’ll be of me, too, if you don’t keep going. ❞

❝ so pushy, ❞ your lover mutters, but there’s absolutely no heat in his words as he obeys your command and buries his face back into your blood-soaked cunt.

for a while you just lie back and enjoy yourself, and let astarion enjoy himself as well. his arms are strong around your legs, holding you in place so you can’t squirm away. it feels way too damn good, you may have been tempted to try. but as it is, you can’t do anything but revel in the silky feeling of astarion’s tongue lapping up everything you have to give him, his fangs catching every so often on your clit, making you see stars.

at some point, you glance down at him and gasp. ❝ your shirt! ❞

you know how much he prides himself on his physical appearance, and now there’s blood staining the front ruffles of his normally immaculate tunic.

he glances down and tuts, frowning. ❝ oh well. it’ll have to go with the rest. ❞ just like that, he rips it off and tosses it with your soiled trousers.

he must be in heaven, you suspect, if he’s willing to discard his cherished clothing for you.

now shirtless, astarion gives one last gentle kiss to your clit and then slowly starts to climb your body. there’s blood dripping from his chin, staining the rest of the blanket wrapped around you. but more importantly, his broad chest is skating up the expanse of your bloody cunt as he comes, and your clit throbs seeing all that red coating his torso.

❝ astarion! ❞ you gasp, and he grins, mouth full of your blood.

❝ i’m loathe to ask you for a kiss, ❞ he whispers, so low you can barely hear him. ❝ just one. i promise. ❞

you swallow thickly, and he waits for you to lean up, pressing your lips to his in the softest kiss you can manage. blood squishes between you, and you can feel it coating your lips as you lie back down.

one lap of your tongue against your bottom lip and you grimace, spitting and rubbing at your mouth with the back of one hand.

astarion laughs heartily as you mutter, ❝ ugh, not for me. ❞

❝ more for me, ❞ astarion says, almost gleefully.

he’s obviously preparing to get back to it, but you keep him close with your hands on his shoulders. ❝ i want you. ❞

brows furrowed, astarion squeezes your waist. ❝ darling, you have me. ❞

❝ inside, ❞ you beg quietly, which you know enjoys immensely.

your next step might be a mistake, but you decide to chance it. bracing yourself with your legs wrapped around him, you thrust up, dragging your wetness along the front of his trousers. you can feel that he’s hard, and now there’s blood all over his pants. you’re hoping he won’t mind, considering his tunic is already ruined for the night as well.

luckily he doesn’t seem to, dark gaze sweeping down over the two of you covered in your blood, and then back up. ❝ i thought you’d never ask. ❞

his trousers quickly follow his tunic, erection jutting up between your legs.

❝ he looks happy, ❞ you giggle, as his swollen head prods at your blood-soaked entrance.

❝ to see you? always. ❞

having astarion inside of you is normally a relief, a release of all the rampant, pent up emotions this journey has bestowed upon you.

tonight is different.

with all that blood flowing south, your womb is aching, you're sore and swollen as astarion’s cock spears through your lips. every thrust sends a fresh flow of blood down his shaft, which earns you a tight growl from the vampire as he takes the backs of your knees in hand and shoves your thighs back toward your chest, eager to get even deeper inside of you.

and you’re eager to have him, nails digging into his chiseled back, the hard marble of his jaw knocking against your shoulder as his lips, slick with blood, find your ear again. ❝ are you feeling better, pet? does my cock soothe that ache inside of you? the ache that raged inside of you, until you met me? until i filled you up in every lovely way possible? ❞

his words make your brain go haywire, knees shaking around his ribcage, toes curling, your mouth rubbing comfortingly at his cool shoulder.

more than that, you do feel better. the more aroused you become, the more blood flows out of you, the less painful your cramps become. until you’re pushing down against him, trying to ride him at the same time as he’s shoving himself inside of you with reckless abandon. until you can’t remember why you started this in the first place, other than to wind up begging for him to finish inside of you.

❝ inside. please, astarion, inside … ❞ it’s hard to even think clearly enough to form words, your mind consumed with the sight of his beautiful body moving atop yours.

you assume he’ll make you beg, as he so often does; he loves hearing the desperate, pleading tone in your voice that tells him all he needs to know — you belong to him.

but he doesn’t. he fucks into you as hard as he ever has, his thick cock gliding against your engorged walls, making your eyes roll back.

and then the talking starts. the words that make you wish you knew whether or not vampires can actually have children. ❝ you want me to get you pregnant, love? want your belly to swell with my child inside of it? i will wait on you hand and foot, i promise. i would love seeing you walk around knowing you hold my heir, that you protected my seed so well that it grew into a child inside of you. ❞ astarion pauses momentarily to laugh, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. ❝ with all this blood, i know you must be fertile. ❞

both of you share a laugh, briefly.

and when you cum, together, he sinks his teeth into your neck with nothing but a quiet grunt, cockhead twitching and spurting inside of you.

you mewl softly, feeling the vampire trembling and shaking as he empties himself into you. your hands pet through his hair, soothe the back of his neck, across the scars circling his back.

the pain from before is nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a warm, fizzy feeling sitting low in your gut. astarion is bracing himself on his elbows above you, with obvious effort.

you pull him down to lay atop you; he’s not exceptionally heavy anyway.

❝ i love you, ❞ he sighs, nestling his face, chin still slick with blood, against your collarbone. ❝ and … promise me we can do that again. ❞

❝ i love you. and i promise. ❞