#find qualified individuals

[youssefguedira]

have a little more fencing world champion joe. because it's worlds again and olympics soonish. enjoy

The clock on the nightstand changes from 01:36 to 01:37, and Joe sighs, rolling over to stare up at the ceiling. Nicky, beside him, shifts in his sleep but doesn't wake.

Joe, however, has been awake since at least 12:08, and feels far too restless to sleep. It's almost certainly jet lag: they're in Chicago for a little while, visiting Nile and her family, and largely trying to enjoy the last little bit of free time they have left until training begins again in earnest. Of course, Joe's kit bag is lying open at the foot of the bed, and Nicky's beside it: just because they're not formally training doesn't mean they won't need it at all.

Still, Joe can't sleep. He sighs again, and gives up on trying to do so entirely. Maybe he'll be able to find some time to rest tomorrow, though he doubts it. Nile's got a lot of things she wants to show them, and Joe would ordinarily be thrilled, if he wasn't so tired.

It'll pass, Andy told him, though she doesn't seem to have been affected by it at all. He's almost certain they'll meet her in the morning for breakfast and she'll be exactly as normal, as if they haven't just crossed multiple time zones. Even Nicky, who hadn't struggled nearly as much as Joe had, had begun to slow down some time around midday, but Andy had been fine.

He gets out of bed, careful not to wake Nicky, who's rolled onto his side facing the door. With nothing else to do, Joe makes his way to the little balcony attached to their room, picking up his phone from the nightstand on the way. The sliding door squeals a little when he opens it, but when he looks over at Nicky he hasn't even moved.

While it's certainly quieter than it had been before, the city is nowhere near silent. It's beautiful, though, and Joe takes a picture to send to his sister.

She texts him back immediately. Pretty, but isn't it like the middle of the night for you?

1 am, Joe responds. Jet lag.

His phone lights up with a call then, but not from Amira. He reads the contact name and answers, heart in his throat.

Oof, is Amira's response.

He almost drops his phone when he realises what they're calling him for.

By the time they hang up, his hands are shaking: he stays like that, phone still pressed to his ear even after the call has ended, for at least a few minutes.

Finally, at a loss for what else to do, he lowers his phone and goes back inside. Sits down on the edge of the bed.

The movement is just enough to wake Nicky, who blinks a few times before sliding into awareness all at once, the way he always does. He sits up, leaning against the headboard, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Joe?" he asks, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep. He frowns when Joe doesn't answer straight away. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Joe says. Fidgets with his phone, screen now dark, still in his hands. "Uh. They want me for the Olympic team."

Nicky is silent for all of a split second before his expression breaks into a wide smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Joe can't keep himself from smiling now, either, as Nicky cups the back of Joe's neck with one hand, leans in to press their foreheads together. Joe closes his eyes.

"Of course they do, Joe," Nicky says then. "You're the best in the world right now. You're going to be incredible."

There are times when that doesn't quite feel real, even if it's been a while.

"You'll come with me?" Joe asks.

"Always," Nicky says. Then he pulls back and kisses Joe's cheek, his forehead, the space between his eyes, until Joe laughs.

"I love you," Nicky tells him.

They'd met fencing épée, of all things. Andy had invited the seven of them – they hadn't quite been friends yet, but Joe had known Quynh for a couple years by then, and Andy too, while Nicky had already known Nile – to train with her and Quynh for a while, and Joe couldn't possibly refuse, because Andy was both his friend and one of the best coaches in the world back then. She'd made them all switch to a weapon they didn't usually use, and Joe and Nicky had picked épée: Joe because he figured it would be easier than restricting his target area to the torso only, and Nicky because épée was far closer to foil than sabre. They'd been about evenly matched, and it had been – well, it had been fun.

Joe had left a week later with Nicky's number in his phone and a small, fluttering hope in his chest. And even if they hadn't kept in touch very well those first few months, when the World Championships came around, and Joe had qualified for the second time, Nicky had joined Andy to meet him at the airport, grinning widely when he caught sight of him.

The rest, as they say, is history.

"I love you too," Joe says.

"You want to tell the others?" Nicky asks.

Joe looks at him for a moment. Looks at the clock. "It's 1 am, Nicky. Andy will kill us both."

Nicky snorts. "In the morning, then?"

"In the morning," Joe agrees.

Neither of them end up going back to sleep until 4 am, and they're both exhausted at breakfast the next morning, but. It's worth it.

[royal-wren]

The whole "Did H//ermes come from P/an or did P/an come from H/erm/es" is boring, tired, annoying, and a waste of time. Does it really impact anything? Does it really matter comparing two deities like Inanna and Ishtar fulfilling identical roles that both have proof of their age at the end of the day? No. Both are super old and recorded to have existed for a very long time and that's the main thing that should be focused on. There are too many what-ifs here, the two could hypothetically have started as brothers/siblings for all it matters. What's more interesting is pondering the historical proof of Her/mes' earlier presenting gender differing from his later id. To have an epithet like Areias (that literally is the same as Areia but with an S) and have prolific primary worship with goddesses does hint at a lot.

[evilminji]

Okay, as I have mentioned, I'm Ace AF. And you know that plot line in kids cartoons where the alien or foreign Warrior Royalty just sort of *violently kicks down door in full armor* "We Will Marry."? I?? Always said:

"Sure!" (#OhThankFUCK!)

Like what do you mean "No"? The powerful, attractive, monarch that is very into you has travel a great distance JUST to marry you! Now you don't have to date! They seem nice! You can skip the whole "trying to find a life partner" awkwardness.

So, Sudden New Fiancee(tm) how we doing this? Blended customs? Two weddings? One in your peoples traditions, one in mine? Should we invite your family? Tell me more about yourself.

God, this solves just... SO MUCH for me? No having to make small talk. No "do they like me?" Or "am I reading the signs here right?" No failed dates! It's positively ideal! AND they announced why they were qualified, in a VERY impressive show of power and prestige, when they arrived! Good lineage AND accomplished!! Very nice.

Don't get why everyone's so upset.

Sure the "we leave at once" thing that usually follows would have to be discussed, but that's what you DO as spouses. Really guys, it's like you think I'm incapable of common sense here.

And you know who probably agrees with me? Damian Wayne.

Hell is other people, INDEED. You expect him to just... randomly go up to people and try Courting them? What do you MEAN it's "creepy" to compile portfolios on eligible individuals of worthy bloodlines? How ELSE is he supposed to know if they are worth attempting to talk too?!

There are BILLIONS of humans on this gods forsaken rock, Richard! Is he supposed to just GUESS? Gamble and hope for LUCK? This is a MARRIAGE not a "best friends club"!

Then? Danny showes up.

Gotham heard her baby talking. Heard her KING being harassed by clearly plotting Observants and power hungry ghosts MANY times his age. Connected some dots. Formed themselves a new OTP.

Danny says "Fuck It". Worst he can say is No. According to Gotham, he is neither Shy not the meek obedient sort. Is in fact, VERY stabby. So if he's not interested he'll no doubt be BRUTALLY clear about that.

So? Danny gets Fright Knight. Go get him a horse. Someone fetch Cujo some armor. He's been told the guy like weapons and animals.

TIME TO BE IMPRESSIVE.

He goes FULL Regalia. Armor of solid night sky. Cape of frost and stardust. Crown like crack in reality itself, through which the cosmos gleam and shift. He gets a horse from the far frozen. They're wooly and carnivorous. Gets THE most impressive sword he can find to wear.

It's gonna be a gift, since he doesn't need it.

He does the whole "rend the skies open" thing. Fan fair and knights. Every title he's ever been given, no matter how embarrassing he find them in reality. And announces his intentions. Declares that ONLY Damian Wayne, aka. Robin, is WORTHY to Marry Him. And (in the traditional Ghost proposal of "either accept or tell me to fuck off" /w violence) Demands Damian accept his offer of Marriage.

Right there.

IN THE WATCHTOWER.

In front of EVERYBODY. And yes, ESPECIALLY the Bats. Who are making glitching, vaguely threatening DEMONIC NOISES. Because? You... you THREATEN the BABY? Death. Ten thousand years DEATH.

People are :O ing and backing away from the visible heatwave of unadulterated FURY being put off by Batman. Danny is nano-second from every bone his ANCESTORS had being reduced to a fine paste.

Then? Damian consider him... considers the sword being thrust in his direction, still held aloft in a steady and armored hand... contemplates those titles for a second...

And goes: "Acceptable. Very well, but I have demands."

N..... Nani the FUCK? Says local Bat-Dad. No??? You are NOT GETTING MARRIED.

Try to stop him. He very obviously IS, according to Damian, the man brought him a kick ass sword and has a giant green dog. Is the king of an ENTIRE REALITY. Yes, he realizes he probably COULD do better... but frankly? This one's cute. But if it upset you so... extended engagement. There. Happy?

NO! Because the JLA Dark are LOSING THEIR SHIT. Damian is still UNDERAGE. We don't even know how OLD this being is! NO MARRIAGE.

Damian is unimpressed. A whole six months? That he's likely already LIVED thanks to various timeloops, temporal shenanigans, and reality warping bits of fuckery? You're reaching.

Just? Marriage Meet Cute.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[pastel-charm-14]

a beginners guide to pilates

pilates is a low-impact exercise method that focuses on strengthening the body, improving flexibility, and enhancing overall fitness. it's suitable for people of all ages and fitness levels, making it an excellent choice for beginners who are looking to start a new exercise routine. in this guide, we'll cover the basics of pilates and provide tips for getting started.

what is pilates?

pilates was developed by joseph pilates in the early 20th century as a system of exercises designed to improve strength, flexibility, and body awareness. it incorporates a series of controlled movements that target the core muscles, as well as other muscle groups throughout the body. pilates emphasizes proper alignment, breathing, and concentration, making it a holistic approach to fitness.

benefits of pilates

strengthens core muscles: pilates focuses on strengthening the muscles of the core, including the abdominals, lower back, and pelvic floor, which can improve posture and stability.

improves flexibility: pilates exercises promote flexibility and range of motion in the muscles and joints, reducing the risk of injury and enhancing overall mobility.

enhances body awareness: pilates encourages mindful movement and body awareness, helping individuals develop a deeper connection between mind and body.

promotes relaxation: pilates incorporates breathing techniques and relaxation exercises, which can help reduce stress and promote a sense of calm and well-being.

increases muscular endurance: pilates exercises are performed in a slow and controlled manner, which helps build muscular endurance over time, allowing individuals to perform daily activities with greater ease.

getting started with pilates

find a qualified instructor: if you're new to pilates, consider taking a class with a certified pilates instructor who can guide you through the exercises and ensure proper form and technique.

start with the basics: begin with beginner-level pilates exercises that focus on building core strength, such as the hundred, pelvic tilts, and leg circles. gradually progress to more challenging exercises as you gain strength and confidence.

focus on proper alignment: pay attention to your alignment during pilates exercises, keeping your spine neutral and your shoulders relaxed. engage your core muscles to stabilize your body and prevent injury.

breathe deeply: practice diaphragmatic breathing during pilates exercises, inhaling deeply through your nose and exhaling fully through your mouth. coordinate your breath with your movements to promote relaxation and enhance concentration.

listen to your body: listen to your body and work at your own pace during pilates workouts. if an exercise feels too challenging or causes discomfort, modify it or take a break as needed.

be consistent: aim to practice pilates regularly to experience the full benefits of the method. start with two to three sessions per week and gradually increase the frequency and duration of your workouts as you progress.

remember that pilates is a journey, and progress takes time and dedication. be patient with yourself as you learn and grow in your practice, and enjoy the many benefits that pilates has to offer for your mind, body, and spirit.

[duchessonfire]

I have been reading a bit on the OTW elections and the whole Tiffany G thing, but most of all, I've been reading comments from people supporting Tiffany saying that she just wants to clear AO3 from all the CSAM (child sexual abuse material) content and I don't know who needs to hear this but:

If someone comes to a predominantly QUEER space (like AO3) and tells you that censorship is necessary to eradicate CSAM... it's not actually CSAM they want to eradicate...

I've seen this type of discourse about Pride and about queer literature and queer movies and queer communities. It's a tried and true technique of the right and conservative movements.

First, they say there is a DANGER to the community through CSAM and they conflate the actual threat of CSAM in the community (we all know someone who thinks that writing a love story between two characters who are 16 is CSAM...), and make you believe that censorship is the only way to PROTECT THE CHILDREN. And since most people are (rightly) mind-bogled at having to explain that of course they don't support CSAM content, they bow down and accept the censorship for the greater good, without anyone actually trying to have a conversation about what qualifies as CSAM (which needs to, you know, actually involve real children and not fictional characters who are 17 and losing their virginity with their crush in a Mature-rated story about high school football and first love based on the author's own experience of losing their virginity at 17 to their crush in high school).

Then, they tell you that there are other forms of DISTURBING CONTENT, and what they really mean is porn that THEY find disturbing, for ex, (and I kid you not, I have seen comments like that) porn featuring disabled characters, which they consider to encourage the exploitation of vulnerable individuals, or BDSM porn (which supposedly encourages violence and lack of consent), or rough porn, or any kind of porn that isn't two (preferably white and skinny) able-bodied people doing it missionary style while lovingly gazing in each other's eyes. SO TO PROTECT VIEWERS, that needs to be banned as well.

And then, they tell you that even that sanitized version of porn is still porn and that people under 18 or under 21 or under whatever age they consider too young to view anything sexual regardless of the fact that not all countries have the same law about the age of maturity, should be free to surf the site without having to *gasp* filter out properly tagged works. So TO PROTECT THE CHILDREN, every explicit content is censored.

And then finally, when all that is left is a sanitized, white-washed, ableist, puritan type of content featuring General-Audience approved gay works of two nice men or two nice women holding hands and chastely kissing each other on the lips... Well guess what? :) CHILDREN SHOULD NOT BE EXPOSED TO QUEER CONTENT SO WE NEED TO BAN THAT AS WELL, and since we've basically done purge after purge before and there are still a handful of people on the website, well surely they won't mind/care anymore, will they?

It's not just a slippery slope, it's something that has been done time and again, and that is why censorship on AO3 will never, never have a positive outcome.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[headspace-hotel]

against the logic of the lawn

Imagine a box.

This box is sealed with tape or adhesive, which shows you that it has never been opened or re-used. It is in pristine condition. Apart from that, the box could hold anything. It could contain a Star Wars Funko Pop, a printer, a shirt ordered from some sketchy online vendor, a knockoff store-brand cereal, six individually wrapped protein bars.

As a Consumer ("the" Consumer) this is your fundamental right: To purchase a box that is, presumably, identical to every other box like it.

When you Buy Product, it arrives in a box, entire of itself and without context. It has not changed since its creation. If and when Product does change—whether it is broken, spoiled, used up, or eaten—you can Buy Product that is identical in every meaningful way to the original.

It's okay if this doesn't make sense yet. (You can stop imagining the box now.)

Imagine instead a suburban housing development, somewhere in the USA.

Imagine row on row of pristine, newly built houses, each constructed with small, meaningless variations in their aesthetic, all with beige or white vinyl siding and perhaps some decorative brick, all situated on identical rectangles of land covered with freshly unrolled sod. This is the Product that every consumer aspires to Buy.

I am not exactly—qualified, or entitled, to speak on the politics of land ownership in this country. My ancestors benefited directly from the genocide of Native Americans, which allowed Europeans to steal the land they lived on, which is where a lot of wealth comes from in the end, even today. However, I have eyes in my head to see that the act of colonizing a continent, and an economic system that formed as a supporting infrastructure to colonization, have embedded something almost irreparably dysfunctional into the dominant American culture's relationship to land.

This dysfunctional Thing, this Sickness, leads us to consider land to be a Product, and to consider a human upon the land to be a Consumer.

From this point of view, land is either locked into this relationship of control and "use" to varying extents, or it is free of human influence. People trying to reason about how to preserve Earth's biosphere, working within this framework without realizing, decide that we must "set aside" large areas of land for "nature."

This is a naive and, I would reckon, probably itself colonialist way of seeing things. It appears to be well-validated by evidence. Where human population is largest, there is less biodiversity.

But I find the broad conclusions to be strikingly unscientific. The plan of "setting aside part of Earth for nature" displays little curiosity about the mechanisms by which human presence impacts biodiversity. Otherwise intelligent people, perhaps caught up in the "bargaining" phase of climate grief, seem taken in by the idea that the human species gives off a magical anti-biodiversity force field, as if feeling guiltier will fix the problems.

(Never mind that lands managed by indigenous folk actually have MORE biodiversity...almost like our species' relationship to the planet isn't inherently exploitative, but rather, the capitalist and colonialist powers destroying everything.......)

Let's go back to the image of the new housing development. This image could be just about anywhere in the USA, because the American suburban home is made for universal interchangeability, where each little house and yard is static and replaceable with any other.

Others have written about the generic-ification of the interiors of homes, how houses are decorated with the most soul-killing, colorless furnishings to make them into Products more effectively. (I think @mcmansionhell wrote about it.)

This, likewise, is the Earth turned into a Product—razed down into something with no pre-existing context, history, or responsibility. Identical parcels of land, identical houses, where once there was a unique and diverse distribution of life. The American lawn, the American garden, the industry that promotes these aesthetics, is the environmental version of that ghastly, ugly "minimalism" infecting the interiors of homes.

The extremely neat, sparse, manicured look that is so totally inescapable in American yards originated from the estates of European aristocracy, which displayed the owner's wealth by flaunting an abundance of land that was both heavily managed and useless. People defend the lawn on the basis that grass tolerates being walked upon and is good for children to play, but to say this is *the* purpose of a lawn is bullshit—children are far more interested in trees, creeks, sticks, weeds, flowers, and mud than Grass Surface, many people with lawns do not have children, and most people spend more time mowing their lawn than they do doing literally anything else outside. How often do you see Americans outside in their yards doing anything except mowing?

What is there to do, anyway? Why would you want to go outside with nothing but the sun beating down on you and the noise of your neighbors' lawn mowers? American culture tries to make mowing "manly" and emphasizes that it is somehow fulfilling in of itself. Mowing the lawn is something Men enjoy doing—almost a sort of leisure activity.

I don't have something against wanting a usable outdoor area that is good for outdoor activities, I do, however, have something against the idea that a lawn is good for outdoor activities. Parents have been bitching for decades about how impossible it is to drag kids outdoors, and there have been a million PSAs about how children need to be outside playing instead of spending their lives on video games. Meanwhile, at the place I work, every kid is ECSTATIC and vibrating with enthusiasm to be in the woods surrounded by trees, sticks, leaves, and mud.

The literal, straightforward historical answer to the lawn is that the American lawn exists to get Americans to spend money on chemicals. The modern lawn ideal was invented to sell a surplus of fertilizer created after WW2 chemical plants that had been used to make explosives were repurposed to produce fertilizer. Now you know! The more analytical, sociological answer is that the purpose of the lawn is to distance you from the lower class. A less strictly maintained space lowers property values, it looks shabby and unkempt, it reflects badly on the neighborhood, it makes you look like a "redneck." And so on. The largest, most lavish McMansions in my area all have the emptiest, most desolate yards, and the lush gardens all belong to tiny, run-down houses.

But the answer that really cuts to the core of it, I think, is that lawns are a technology for making land into a Product for consumers. (This coexists with the above answers.) Turfgrass is a perfectly generic blank slate onto which anything can be projected. It is emptiness. It is stasis.

I worry about the flattening of our imaginations. Illustrations in books generally cover the ground outdoors in a uniform layer of green, sometimes with strokes suggesting individual blades of grass if they want to get fancy. Video games do this. Animated shows and movies do this.

Short, carpet-like turfgrass as the Universal Outdoor Surface is so ubiquitous and intuitive that any alternative is bizarre, socially unacceptable, and for many, completely unimaginable. When I am a passenger in a car, what horrifies me the most to see out the window is not only the turfgrass lawns of individuals, but rather, the turfgrass Surface that the entire inhabited landscape has been rendered into—vacant stretches of land surrounding businesses and churches, separating parking lots, bordering Wal-Marts, apartment complexes, and roadsides.

These spaces are not used, they are almost never walked upon. They do nothing. They are maintained, ceaselessly, by gas-powered machines that are far, far more carbon-emitting than cars per hour of use, emitting in one hour the same amount of pollution as a 500-mile drive. It is an endless effort to keep the land in the same state, never mind that it's a shitty, useless state.

Nature is dynamic. Biodiversity is dynamic. From a business point of view, the lawn care industry has found a brilliant scheme to milk limitless money from people, since trying to put a stop to the dynamism and constant change of nature is a Sisyphean situation, and nature responds with increasingly aggressive and rapid change as disturbance gets more intense.

On r/lawncare, a man posted despairingly that he had spent over $1500 tearing out every inch of sod in his yard, only for the exact same weeds to return. That subreddit strikes horror in my heart that I cannot describe, and the more I learn about ecology, the more terrible it gets. It was common practice for people in r/lawncare to advise others to soak their entire yard in Roundup to kill all plant life and start over from a "blank slate."

Before giving up, I tried to explain over and over that it was 100% impossible to get a "blank slate." Weeds typically spread by wind and their seeds can persist for DECADES in the soil seed bank, waiting for a disastrous event to trigger them to sprout. They will always come back. It's their job.

It was impossible for those guys to understand that they were inherently not just constructing a lawn from scratch, and were contending with another power or entity (Nature) with its own interests.

The logic of the lawn also extends into our gardens. We are encouraged to see the dynamism of nature as something that acts against our interests (and thus requires Buy Product) so much, that we think any unexpected change in our yard is bad. People are sometimes baffled when I see a random plant popping up among my flowers as potentially a good thing.

"That's a weed!" Maybe! Nonetheless, it has a purpose. I don't know who this stranger is, so I would be a fool to kill it!

A good caretaker knows that the place they care for will change on its own, and that this is GOOD and brings blessings or at least messages. I didn't have to buy goldenrod plants—they came by themselves! Several of our trees arrived on their own. The logic that sees all "weeds" as an enemy to be destroyed without even identifying ignores the wisdom of nature's processes.

The other day at work, the ecologist took me to see pink lady's slipper orchids. The forest there was razed and logged about a hundred years ago, and it got into my head to ask how the orchids returned. He only shrugged. "Who knows?"

Garden centers put plants out for sale when they are blooming. People buy trees from Fast Growing Trees dot com. The quick, final results that are standard with Buy Product, which are so completely opposite the constant slow chaos of nature, have become so standard in the gardening world that the hideous black mulch sold at garden centers is severed from the very purpose of mulch, and instead serves to visually emphasize small, lonely plants against its dark background. (For the record, once your plants mature, you should not be able to SEE the mulch.)

Landscapers regularly place shrubs, bushes, trees and flowers in places where they have no room to reach maturity. It's standard—landscapers seem to plan with the expectation that everything will be ripped out within 5-10 years. The average person has no clue how big trees and bushes get because their entire surroundings, which are made of living things (which do in fact feel and communicate) are treated as disposable.

Because in ten years, this building won't be an orthodontists' office, in ten years, this old lady will be dead, in ten years, the kids will have grown, and capitalism is incapable of preparing for a future, only for the next buyer.

The logic of the lawn is that gardens and ecosystems that take time to build are not to be valued, because a lush, biodiverse garden is not easily sold, easily bought, easily maintained, easily owned, or easily treated with indifference. An ecosystem requires wisdom from the caretaker. That runs contrary to the Consumer identity.

And it's this disposable-ness, this indifference, that I am ultimately so strongly against, not grass, or low turf that you can step on.

What if we saw buying land as implying a responsibility to be its caretaker? To respect the inhabitants, whether or not we are personally pleased by them or think they look pretty? What creature could deserve to be killed just because it didn't make a person happy?

But the Consumer identity gives you something else...a sense of entitlement. "This is MY yard, and that possum doesn't get to live there." "This is MY yard, and I don't want bugs in it." "This is MY yard, and I can kill the spiders if I want to."

Meanwhile there is no responsibility to build the soil up for the next gardener. No responsibility to plant oaks that will grow mighty and life-giving. No responsibility to plant fruit-producing trees, brambles, and bushes. None of these things, any of which could have fulfilled a responsibility to the future. Rather, just to do whatever you damn well please, and leave those that come after with depleted, compacted soil and the aftermath of years of constant damage. It took my Meadow ten years to recover from being the garden patch of the guy that lived here before us. Who knows what he did to it.

The loss of topsoil in all our farmland is a bigger example, and explains how this is directly connected to colonialism. The Dust Bowl, the unsustainable farming practices that followed, the disappearance of the lush fertile prairie topsoil because of greed and colonizer mindset, and simple refusal to learn from what could be observed in nature. The colonizing peoples envisioned the continent as an "Empty" place, a Blank Slate that could be used and exploited however.

THAT is what's killing the planet, this idea that the planet is to be used and abused and bought and sold, that the power given by wealth gives you entitlement to do whatever you want. That "Land" is just another Product, and our strategies for taking care of Earth should be whatever causes the most Buy Product.

It's like I always write..."You are not a consumer! You are a caretaker!"

[miyacults]

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

[yorsgirl]

I am taking heads . Oh?

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Maybe, just maybe - you can find common ground while working with your boyfriend. Or maybe not. Who cares anyway when you can have him fulfilling your carnal desires.

Tropes: Established relationship, smut

Warnings: Explicit smut, cunnilingus, heavy kissing, heated foreplay, slight fluff, college boy!Sukuna, kinda toxic relationship, No curse AU, strong language, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: I liked writing their dynamic in the first part and I wanted to delve into it more but this part contains more chemistry than smut, so here you go. Enjoy! (can be read as a stand alone)

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

<Previous>

While the Gods were creating the list of unfortunate individuals, your name must have been the first.

Exaggeration? No. Truly? Well, maybe to a certain extent.

But you have to accept that you are unfortunate. Like duh! Final year of college and your professor decides to gift you with a partner project. One which you can't afford to overlook since it contributed thirty percent to your yearly grade. (Not that you'd consider bypassing it in the first place.)

While you could glide through solo projects just fine, the stakes arise when you have to work with someone else. More so, a partner – could be any of your classmates but as the professors are just so good, they already made up pairs on their own. To your luck, guess who would be your partner? Cutting the chase, here's the answer – Ryomen Fucking Sukuna.

Your gaze shifts to the back of the classroom where the aforementioned man is seated. To your astonishment, you find him returning your gaze. This silent staring match lasts for merely five seconds before his lips curve into a chesire smirk.

The sheer audacity.

You redirect your attention back to the front, a palpable scowl etched onto your features. While ostensibly directed at the professor, the true recipient of this expression is the one who caused it in the first place. Simpler words – a man with salmon hair, adorned with numerous tattoos who happens to be your boyfriend.

Barely two months had elapsed since you started this thing– relationship with Sukuna. While it should be counted as the honeymoon phase of any relationship, it was far from yours. This wouldn't even qualify as a conventional relationship to begin with.

Casual sex, casual relationship, no strings attached. Few labels if one wishes to name it.

Is it your idea for an ideal relationship? Most probably not.

Did this relationship achieve the aim of it? Most definitely.

Hence, you are here.

After your professor winds up the lecture and your classmates are on their cue to disperse out of the hall, you purposefully stride over to Sukuna. You stand before his desk, arms crossed over your chest as you start, "So–"

His crimson eyes flicker over to you, lips quirking into a grin, "Well well, fancy meeting you, princess."

Your eyebrow twitches in irritation still you let out a breath to calm your nerves. "I told you not to call me that in public."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Mhm, nah. Don't remember, don't care."

This fucking asshole. 

You grit your teeth, glaring at him which he returned with a smug smirk. You pinch the bridge of your nose, constantly reminding yourself on why you are here. After you're done with your pep talk, you start again, "See, I will not beat around the bush. We've that project–"

"A shitty project," He rolls his eyes, resting his face on his knuckles. "Do it yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"No, I didn't," You scoff. "What the hell do you mean by – do it yourself? For your information, its a P. A. R. T. N. E R. partner project. You've to put in your efforts too."

"I know what a partner project means, woman. I am not doing it."

You lean in, placing your hand on his desk, "You want to fail this course?"

"Oh no, no," He clicks his tongue. "Aren't you my partner, princess? Sure, you can do extra work for your boyfriend."

Fuck this stupid asshole. Which sin did you commit to get punished like this?

"How convenient," Your lips stretch into a grin. "What more? Do you want me to write your exams as well?"

He raises an eyebrow, "You like me that much?"

"I hate you and I mean it this time."

"So you don't the other times?"

This guy...

Your nose crinkles "Fuck you."

"Here? Didn't know were into exhibitionism." 

"Oh fuck off."  You retort, placing your hands on your hips. "You know," the corner of your lip quirks up, "There are six million nerves in one's body. How do you manage to get on each one of them?"

"What can I say? I am just naturally gifted." 

"Right, such a shame we don't hand out Nobel Prize for arrogance."

That earns you a scornful glare from Sukuna while you stifle the grin that stretches up your lips; failing miserably. One win - fantastic. You breathe out heavily, shaking your head, "See, I am not doing your portion of work and if you're so adamant about not doing basic research then be my guest. You can fail."

Sukuna returns an expression that could be counted as least bothered before adding, "You will fail too." 

"I wouldn't mind a red mark on my annual report."

You will. You very much will.

Counting back to the time you almost got a seventy in the parasitology exam in third year, you didn't step out of your room for two days. But he doesn't need to know that.

Sukuna, for some reason, doesn't counter that. You take it as your cue and continue, "Five-thirty, evening, at the cafeteria, today. Don't be late."

"Rather a casual way of asking me out on a date but I accept." He muses, a smirk curving up on his lips.

You sigh and lean back, "Call it whatever. Don't be late." You rotate on your heels as you descend the broad stairs of the lecture hall. You turn one last time, he's still in the same place – gathering up his things. "If you are then you're doing extra work." With that, you flung your bag over your shoulder and walk out of the hall.

Hopefully, he will show up.

.

Surprisingly, Sukuna does show up.

No, not so. He shows up before you do. When you step into the cafeteria, looking for a suitable table, when you locate the man occupying one at the far end of the room.

You have to veil your utter shock under a mask of nonchalance cause you were ninety-nine percent sure that you'd have to drag him here. Yes, in no way in hell are you doing all of this work alone. At the same time, you wonder if you do even have the strength to drag him in the first place. Instead of pondering on matters of what could've been, you push it away and stride towards him.

His eyes land on you when you walk up to him, putting his phone down in the process. "So you'll be doing extra work for showing up late?"

"I am not late." You counter, taking a seat across from him, switching on your phone for a brief second, you check the time. "Its five twenty-eight. You are too early."

"You wanted me to be late?"

"No, fine. You are fine." You shrug, leaning back on the chair while taking out the required notes and books. Though a thought does conjure up your mind and you murmur to yourself, "I thought you wouldn't show up."

It does reach his ear causing him to cast the smirk your way, "I can't deny my princess now, can I?"

Inadvertently, you smirk too. However, you keep your attention on the notes in your hand. You assume he has taken notice of it cause a snicker escalates but he doesn't comment any further. Yet, you have to divert his attention that he managed to amuse you so you clear your throat and start, "I am feeling generous today so you can input whatever topic you have in mind."

"Ah, yes. I am so honored." He replies with an evident lace of sarcasm in his tone.

"You should be."

For the next half an hour, its a blur of discussion on which topic would be more suitable on this project. It isn't a surprise when you find, working with Sukuna on coursework more bearable than you'd have expected it to be. Given, you knew he was a hard worker and really smart; now, only if he could get down from his high horse.

After crossing out the obvious topics, which both of you can pretty much agree cannot give you a decent score. That brings you here, two topics – implementation of robotics in medical science OR thermodynamic mechanisms in spaceships.

"See," You start, "All I am saying is that robotics would make a better topic. It's coming of age but less researched, choosing something uncommon–"

"It's exactly the reason of it being uncommon that we shouldn't go with it." Sukuna interrupts you, before you can finish as he crosses his arms over his chest. "More reason, to go with thermodynamics."

"That's too much of a common ground, almost everyone would be selecting it. Out of laziness or interest, no one would know."

He breathes out heavily, rolling his eyes, "If that's your only problem then get over it." The offense is clearly marked on your expression but before you can speak, Sukuna continues, "We have to write this project. Write as in mention correct facts not fuck around and make up shit which we would definitely have to cause your topic is already less researched or in your words – coming of age."

He does make a good point. A brand new topic will have the disadvantage of you having to work on limited materials, some of which might even prove to be false considering the internet is full of shit. You sigh and mutter, "Ugh, fine." He raises an eyebrow and you reach for your purse. "Time for showdown."

"What? You're taking out any guns or shit." He narrows his eyes at you receiving a smug smile in return.

"If I had to kill you, I'd you poison. It's more sophisticated."

"I'd expect you to be the last person to know a thing about sophistication, given your smartmouth."

You dig through your purse, looking for the required item, simultaneously adding, "Doesn't hold a candle before your narcissim."

"See, this is what I am talking about. You always need to get the last word."

"Just my signature sign-off," A sarcastic smile plays on your lips when your eyes shifts to him. He just stares back with a disinterested scowl. You shake your head, "Anyways, we'll be tossing."

"Seriously?" Disbelief is marked heavy on his visage. "You want to decide our project on some pesky toss?"

"Uh huh," You affirm, running your fingers through your hair, "I am already partnered with you. How worse can it get?"

"Fair."

"I am taking heads."

"Oh?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Sukuna. Keep it PG-13." The clogs run in your mind and you shoot him a scornful glare.

"Never was in the first place." He muses, reaching for the coin in your hand which you pass to him without hesitation.

Sukuna holds the coin over his thumb before a jerk sent it flying upwards, the silver of the metal gleams with the setting sun before descending downwards. His forearms flex and with a precise snap of his wrist, he catches the coin on his waiting palm, clasping the other over it; for it to remain hidden. He rotates his wrists again, bringing it to the center of the table where he removes his upper hand.

Tails.

"I win."

There's a brief pause, no words spoken from your side which incites him to take a glance at you. He finds you staring at him with a bewildered expression while your lips are parted. Yet, your eyes aren't cast over to the coin in his hand, more so to him.

His eyebrow furrows and he snaps his finger in front of you, "Oi, wake up." Works wonders as it breaks your trance but causes you to recoil back with a gasp.

"H-Huh? What? What happened?"

Sukuna only answers with passing the coin back to you, with the tails side on display and you get the hint.

"F-Fine." You cough, refusing to meet his gaze. Only hoping that he wouldn't make a comment on your initial zone-out stance. You cough again, reaching for the water to take a gulp before typing in on your laptop. "Hm, so what? Thermodynamics in rockets, was it?"

Sukuna knits his eyebrow, leaning front, his fingers interlocking together, "Wow, no arguments?"

"No."

"Not even a smart mouth comeback?"

"No."

"What a character development."

His tone drips with sarcasm but you're far down the road to comment on it. Besides with the heat rushing up your face, its better if you keep conversations to a minimum for now.

.

New day, new shit.

Did you think Yorozu clinging onto your boyfriend like a leech was bad? Surprise, surprise! No. It's worse when she's set her eyes on you.

Currently, she stands before you; glaring at you like you've committed some arson. She narrows her eyes at you, "Aren't you the girl who's tagging with my sukuna?"

"I have a name. Its–"

"Don't care," She dismisses with a wave. "What relation do you have with him?"

You press your lips into a thin line, already contemplating the question of – Is holding a conversation with her worth it? Chances are none. However, considering you and Sukuna never mentioned your relationship to anyone explicitly, so its obvious as to why she'll pine for him.

You sigh and start, "Well, I am his–"

"You know what, It doesn't even matter."

Is it her aim to ask you questions only to not hear them in the end?

"But," The girl continues, a warning scowl directed at you, "If you think you've got any chance with him then let me burst your bubble, sweetheart." An eerie grin plays on her lips, "You don't."

Alright, why is she acting like the mean girls from the 90s soap opera?

"Sure," You mutter, tilting your head aside. Though it's a confirmation of her statement, you tone indicates confusion.

Her eyebrows scrunch up as she takes a step towards you. "Sure? That's it? You're not gonna say anything else."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Like literally anything."

"Haven't got anything to say, to be honest."

A silence befalls over the both of you. While you are overwhelmed by the awkward tension of this situation, Yorozu only looks at you like you've uttered the greatest blasphemy.

"So may I–"

"Aren't you trying your chances on him?"

She's still stuck on that? You mentally sigh, racking your mind through all the responses that will stop this confrontation for today and the coming of days. Just then, you find the perfect response.

A smirk stretches on your lips as you take a short glance at the beauty in front of you.

"To be honest, no. Absolutely not. I am least interested in him," You shrug, inching closer to her. Reaching out a hand, you caress the soft skin on her chin, tilting it to your stature. "You see, my dear. The one, I want– hm, its you."

"Excuse me?" The look on her face in pure art as she stumbles a few steps back, removing your hand from her, horror evident on her mien.

You push your hand inside your pocket as you lean back. Bedroom eyes directed at her with a suggestive smile. "You heard me, darling. Ah– aren't you just the prettiest?"

That isn't a lie. You have to give it to her, she's one of the most beautiful girls you've seen till date. Hair as black as midnight, sleek and flowing like an endless river while brown eyes that shone under sunlight. Only problem? Her damn infuriating personality. If only she could fix it now...

Perhaps, in another realm– another life - it'd be you and her.

"Say," You continue, "Why don't I take you out? This friday? Sounds nice, right?" You gather a note and your pen, scribbling something on it.

"Absolutely not. Stay the fuck away from me."

"Oh come on," You snort, tearing the note as you push it onto her hand. "Just one date. I swear, you won't regret it."

"No. And what the hell is this?"

"That's my number. Text me later, doll."

With a swift turn of your heels, you walk away from her. Not before shooting a suggestive wink her way.

.

How did an argument about chopping carrots escalate to Sukuna eating you out on the counter top?

Recounting back to twenty minutes ago, you were standing in your shared kitchen with Sukuna while the latter chided you on how you were so fucking incompetent in using a damn knife. That might hold true, given your chopping skills were negligible and on the other hand, Sukuna just knew how to use that blade like he's using it for a thousand years. You were effectively fuming inwardly as you decided to strut out of the kitchen while throwing profanities under your breath. To your luck, or your clumsiness – you hit yourself with the doorframe. 

That's the reason you were sitting on the counter top with Sukuna standing between your legs as he pressed a ice pack on your forehead.

"Do you always have to make a bad situation worse?" He glares down at you, pressing down the ice pack a little too much.

"I don't make a habit out of it," You reply following a hiss in pain. He reduces the pressure, angling the bag on a better posture.

You don't speak after that, neither does he add anything more; solely focusing on the light blemish on your forehead. However, the silence that falls over is far from comforting.

The air hangs heavy in the room puncturting only by the soft whispers of both of your breath. Sukuna stood uncomfortably close; a palpable weight to your very being. His heady scent of musk and spice wafts over you, enveloping all your senses. His calloused hand gripped your thigh firmly, keeping you restricted to that certain posture; you couldn't resist the shiver that went down your spine. The tension grew heavy hot and heavy–near suffocating.

One of the sweatbeads clinging to a strand of his hair, drips down, resting on the dark tattooed skin. You take a note of how his adam's apple bobs – sound audible and action agonizingly slow. An sting of electricity shoots down to your core, only a mesh of garment separating your crotch from his.

Why does any close proximity with him bring out these electrifying sensations? Like a black hole, pulling you with a greater force than the last.

His eyes were trained on you, drinking in every inch of what you are. The sheer intensity of it settled a blockage in your lungs–rendering your ability to breath freely. Your heart thumped in your ribcage like a drum while your fingers pressed onto the counter edge.

Refusing to meet his carmine eyes, you wondered if this heat was only a notion of yours or did he feel it too?

"You know... professor was satisfied with our work– that project, I mean." Licking your lips, you let out a deep breath. It was the silence. Only the silence, you tell yourself. Maybe a chance at conversation would dissipate it.

Seemed like, your partner had no interest in continuing one with you as he only answered with a hum.

That doesn't help any way, more so adds fuel to your burning desires. The deep, guttural hum rings in your ears, a flurry of goosebumps arise on your arms, your stomach churned with a carnal urge.

Yet, you refrained from making any unnecessary actions; that proved to be a task in itself.

Few droplets of cool water trickle down your cheek to your throat–belonging to the melting ice, pressed on your forehead. That ache is long gone, reaching for his wrist, you tug it away. "It's fi– hah!"

Sukuna's lips were on your neck as he sucked on its supple flesh; the same region where those beads of water had trickled down. For in his wake, those beads glistening over your skin were the only drink that could quench his thirst. His teeth grazed over the pulse point of your neck, sinking his teeth down on it, inciting a raspy moan from you.

Sukuna captured your nape in his hand, grip firm yet not a flicker of harshness. His lips found the hollow of your neck, he presses his mouth down on the tender skin. Savoring the taste as he glides his tongue to your collarbone.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the very first sensation, hands fisted over his shirt, you tugged him closer. A breathy moan left your lips, trying to clench your legs as heat pooled down in your core. "Sukuna."

"I've been waiting to taste you for so long." He muttered near your ear, warm breath falling on your earlobe as he subtly tugged it.

The cool metal of his tongue piercing sets down like a sharp contrast against your heated skin. His left hand brushes over the hem of skirt, squeezing your thighs. He pulled you closer to himself, kisses trailing up from your jaw to the corner of your lips. He stared at you. Stare as in look. He looked at you, fishing out every bit of details that he might have missed the last times. There's more. There always more.

From the way you've clamped your eyes shut to the curve of your nose or to the structure of your cheek to the way your chest rises and fall as you breath. He takes the note of how the skin of your neck had tried slightly red from his previous assault. He cups your cheek, tilting your face towards him. When he speaks, its a low whisper, "Look at me."

On cue you open your eyes. His eyes burn with a primal desire akin to an untamed beast whose very essence is filled with lust. He is staring at you with the burning passion in which you are burning as well. You don't know, what came over you but you say his name again.

"Sukuna."

.

Maybe he was just waiting for that.

He takes your mouth in his with a force anyone could only imagine. The sheer impact of your head tipping back to hit the concrete is shielded by his hand which runs through the locks of your hair. A slight ache rest over his knuckles but he is more concerned with the way you taste as he delves into you, lapping and swirling his tongue with yours.

The moan that escapes your mouth causes him to smirk. His hand slides inside your skirt as he runs his fingers over the fabric of your panties. His eyebrows furrow feeling the soaked garment as he pulls away from the kiss for a brief second, lips still brushing with yours.

"Wet already?"

The rush of blood to your cheeks is a sight to behold as you consciously try to avoid his piercing gaze. One which he'd have taken the moment to carve a picture out in his mind but not today. Not now. His hunger for you is far greater.

So his mouth find yours again.

He bits down on your lower lip almost to the point of drawing blood, leaving it only at the last second when you hiss in pain. He licks on the flesh, sucking on it altogether. When he leaves you – your lower lip is puffed out. Yet, a side of him wishes to know what would your blood taste like? As saccharine as your pleasurable release? Or like the musk salty sweat of your skin?

While that desire would have to see the light of day another time, he believes he can be satisfied with what he has tasted before yet not. For your skin and lips was a dish in itself, he is aiming for dessert.

Hooking his thumb under the waistband of your panties, he says, "Lift." You buckle your hips up, balancing your weight with your hands on the counter top, he slides out the garment before discarding somewhere.

Sukuna kneels down in front of you, eyes at the perfect level of your cavern leaking with arousal. He spreads your legs wider, no way is anything blocking this delicious sight or his meal. Not even you.

He licks over the entrance of your pussy, a brief moan escalating from you causing his cock to strain against his briefs. With his thumb and forefinger, he spreads your lips apart watching how your juice glisten down. With a flick of his tongue, he swipes a teasing, wet trail over your already swollen clit.

A slow circuit forms as he in literal sense toys with you; lapping and swirling his tongue over your hardened bud. Waves of pleasure shoot through your body, nails hurting from digging into the hard counter top. Your toes curl as you arch your back forward. His tongue piercing works wonder on your core, you bit your lip yet the whine escapes, "Ahh– Fuck– stop teasing me, Sukuna."

"Let me enjoy my meal, princess." He muses, inching closer. He slides a finger inside you, curling it inside you while his mouth works simultaneously on your core. Feasting like no one else.

You tip your head back, crying out like waves of pleasure hit you. "Yes, li-like that– fuck, please Sukuna. D-don't stop."

"Your wish is my command princess." He nips at your sensitive flesh, drawing another moan from you. Though this meal is more lavish than anyother, his cock painfully strains against his garments – begging for release. Begging to be inside you.

Sukuna slides his finger in and out of you before adding another. The added stimulation has your eyes rolling back inside your head, your hand finds it's way to his hair, tugging on the locks as you push him forward.

A groan escapes his lips, tongue and fingers drawing a rhythm which sends you over the edge. A sheen of sweat rests over your body while Sukuna, purposefully French kisses your clit. Your eyes widen with pure ecstasy, body convulsing as you cry our giving into your orgasm.

Sukuna licks up your release before getting uo from the floor. A devilish grin resting on his lips, eyes glinting with desires of his own. If he had his phone, he'd just click your spent up form, keeping it with him as a memory. Face flushed, legs spread wide as a trail of drool runs down your mouth. You try to catch your breath.

"What? Tired already? Too bad, I am not done with you."

.

BONUS

"By the way, I am taking out Yorozu on a date this friday."

"How wonderful. Enjoy."

A/N: Just imagine, Sukuna tossing a coin in front of you. His forearms and wrists are exposed with the tattoos as they flex when he snaps his hand to catch the falling coin... See that? See what I am talking about? No, try again. See it, now? Yes? Good. This will live in my mind rent free now.

Anyways, thank you for reading. Likes and feedbacks are appreciated <3

P.S: lmk if anyone wants to read about reader's date with Yorozu (please do cause I need an excuse to write it and I just wanna know if y'all are interested 🥹)

[thehandymen]

ok controversial opinion but. although spy x family and buddy daddies appear to have a lot in common (traumatized hitmen acquire a child etc etc) i really don’t think they should be compared. yor & loid, despite rushing into a marriage of convenience, are both pretty decently equipped to act as parental figures despite their unconventional backgrounds. yor has the experience of practically raising yuri from a very young age, and loid’s jack-of-all-trades spy career and general hyper competent personality means they’re able to handle anya and the whole sudden family situation better than your average single, childless, late-20s(?) adult. of course they still face a lot of bumps in the road/have a lot to learn, but what they do know from their respective lives and occupations definitely helps, and let’s not forget that anya is a whole telepath. 

kazuki and rei, on the other hand, have absolutely ZERO parental qualifications. it’s pretty obvious both of them have lived through their fair share of tragedy, with kazuki and his presumed dead wife and rei and his brutal childhood, but they’re also just. really messy people individually. kazuki is shown to regularly hang around gambling houses/the red light district and rei is a wet sock of a man when not in uniform. miri is your typical 4 year old: wildly energetic, no filter, constantly making a mess, requires attention at all times, and so on. unlike anya, she cannot read the minds of those around her, which means the only way she knows how to��“help” her papas is by unhelpfully inserting herself into whatever tasks they’re trying to complete (and if you’ve been around small children, this is super typical behavior). she means well but she often inconveniences rei and kazuki’s already precarious lifestyle. and frankly, that pretty much sums up the early years of parenthood. 

kids are a lot of work. raising a child, even when you’re a “normal,” well-adjusted adult is really tough. but it’s supposed to be fulfilling, and it’s supposed to be something that parents view as “worth it.” we can’t really blame miri’s mom for resenting her so much when she never wanted to be a mom in the first place (and it’s clear she’s not suited to it, either). kazuki’s argument with miri’s mom demonstrates that his concept of parenthood is pretty idealistic, although not incorrect. kazuki may like the idea of protecting a child’s happiness, but he doesn’t realize the difficulty of the logistics involved, which we see in the daycare episode. we also see in the daycare episode that rei has no clue what a traditional childhood looks like. it’s implied he never went to school and doesn’t really understand how children usually act. 

kazuki and rei are arguably much less qualified than yor and loid to be parents, and therefore the buddy daddies family dynamic is going to be way more dysfunctional in a way that viewers may find bordering annoying rather than comically chaotic (i’ve read the crunchyroll comments). the same goes for miri, who is your average run of the mill small child, and not some super kawaii esper. but kazuki and rei are trying their best, in their own ways, and it’s clear that miri is going to brighten up their lives in really touching ways. so buddy daddies is definitely still worth a watch, especially if you already enjoy spy x family, but people should keep in mind that buddy daddies is not the “ripoff” of spy x family i’ve seen people say. 

[llamagoddessofficial]

Have you ever done an au where the boys are farmers? :]

I did once before, but hey. Nothing wrong with more farm. And as a certified country bumpkin who has lived/worked on many a farm in her life, I feel I'm uniquely qualified for this au ;)

It makes sense that all three boys would work on the same self-sustaning farm. 'Cousins' taking care of the same land, and everything. Maybe Mc is the cute girl who lives nearby and finds herself taking up odd jobs for them every now and then, for some spare cash...?

Sans: ... Mc bumps into him a lot, whether she's helping out on the farm or just passing by their fields on her way to somewhere else. He's always friendly, always greets her- always smiling up at her from under his goofy straw hat and telling terrible farm-related jokes so he can grin at her laughter. She can usually spot him napping in a field somewhere; when she asks what he's doing he always says he's 'working'.

To be fair to him, what he's 'working' on is always complete to perfection. All the hay around him has been baled despite no machines in sight, all the vegetables have been pulled and packed into their boxes, all the dirt has been tilled in perfect straight lines. She's got no clue how he does it.

If she's ever working with him (say, they're packing fruit together) he's always trying to encourage her to flunk it and nap with him. He knows all the best resting spots in a mile radius... and when she does crack and nap with him, it's the best rest she's had in a long time.

Red: He's a fieldhand who doubles as a pretty decent handyman. It's not unusual to catch him moving around in oil-stained dungarees with a toolbox tucked under one arm and a cigarette between his teeth, repairing any machinery that needs a loving touch. Other farms occasionally hire him out to repair whatever busted old thing they're not ready to let go of yet, and he's picked up a reputation for being able to repair anything.

... That's not the only thing he's picked up a reputation for, though. Red's got a good relationship with most of the other farms... mostly because he's banged a decent percentage of all the nearby fieldhands. He's famously good with his hands, after all.

Mc likes him, he's charming and somehow manages to smell good despite always being covered in motor oil. He likes to show off to her by helping her with her chores and lifting heavy shit with his big arms... she's flattered by his obvious interest in her. But she's also aware of his reputation, and isn't super keen to get cuddly just yet.

Skull: He mostly handles animals. He's got that quiet, strong demeanour that they like. He doesn't talk to people, or go out much, he's a bit of an urban legend in the area. He's much more comfortable around animals than people; animals don't judge him for how he looks, or expect him to talk, or care that he smells like hide all the time.

Mega crush on Mc from the first moment he sees her, which only exacerbates his usual anxieties around people and makes him super shy. Even though she makes him nervous, he really likes when she drops by the barns to help him with the animals. She's the only one who regularly visits. Silently feeding the chickens while he listens to her talk is one of his favourite activities in the whole world.

While Red's showing off is intentional, Skull tends to show off completely accidentally. He often lifts up stupidly heavy things without thinking; effortlessly slinging several bags of feed onto his shoulders, despite each bag individually being so heavy she couldn't even push one across the floor. He doesn't understand why her face flushes so much when he lifts big bales. Maybe she's been out in the sun too long?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I made a document that publicly pointed out that my ex-mutuals (and former close friends) had NSFW discussions with minors (which included me at the time)?

TW for possible grooming; I'm not sure what criteria behavior has to meet to be grooming, but we'll get there when we get there.

I mainly feel like this is just petty because it happened back in 2021/2022, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to get some judgement for this. Also, to get this out of the way ahead of time, as far as I know nobody was baiting anyone; in fact I didn't realize that the behavior from my adult mutuals was probably not good until INCREDIBLY recently.

So for context, two years ago I (gender irrelevant, but I'm almost 20) had a fairly close-knit friend group. Mixed ages, but I believe the youngest was around 16. Oldest was mid-20s. When everything started, I was 17. My mental/emotional maturity isn't exactly that of a 20 year old, and my mental/emotional maturity at that age wasn't exactly that of a 17 year old. I very much act younger than I am sometimes, especially online. Additionally, I was open about my life at home not being great.

As an emotionally and mentally immature 17 year old, I would post NSFW in the form of text more than I should have (by which I mean I probably shouldn't have been doing it all at 17, at the very least not publicly where adults could find it). At the start I was pretty openly hesitant about it, but the adults in my mutual circle honestly kinda encouraged it? This eventually spread out, and my mutuals who were younger than me started joining in (and remember, these mutuals were 16-17, and the oldest adult in the mutual circle was mid-20s; before I get asked, I do believe the adults in the group were aware as most of the individuals in this mutual circle had either their age or their age range {ie, minor or adult} in their bios).

This experience, frankly predictably, caused a fuckton of damage to my moral view when it comes to this kind of stuff, by which I mean I've seen similar situations, saw people telling the younger person to get out, and thought "man I feel like they're overreacting" when they're obviously not. I don't know if desensitizing me to it was intentional or not, and that specifically is why I don't know if it qualifies as grooming (as I am unsure if grooming has to be intentional or not).

Seeing people interact with me then looking through their posts to find out they've interacted with the adults in this ex-friend group just puts a bad taste in my mouth, which again, is something I didn't realize the reasoning for until recently.

I just kinda feel like it'd be a dick move to make a document detailing things that happened 2 years ago, but at the same time someone in their mid-20s having and encouraging NSFW conversations with minors is something I think is worth pointing out. So WIBTA if I made a document detailing all this and posted it publicly?

What are these acronyms?

[thebibliosphere]

Um, Joy, hi. I hesitate to ask, but what is a Phangs arc request and why are you getting so many that you can make them a pile out of 700+ emails??? Do you want, like, a banner or something that says "can't answer these!" because I know how to make one.

Phangs arc requests are when I give copies out in exchange for reviews or from the “donate” pile people regularly contribute to via my Payhip.

And lol, thank you. I appreciate that. I’m spending today and tomorrow looking at my workflow and setting up tighter filters on my email to hopefully catch more things.

The arcs are honestly fine. It's the people deliberately censoring words to get around my autofilters that are the biggest problem.

The abuse I just kind of eyeroll at. It’s really quite ridiculous seeing someone tell you to “un@l!ve” yourself or calling me a “m*nchi3”. But it really wears me down when it’s people doing it with health queries.

Some people really don’t like getting my generic “here are some MCAS resources” email and go out of their way to make sure they get my individual attention, even though what they’re asking is answered in the links I provide.

I’m sure it pisses them off no end when I reply to their c3ns0red emails with the same copy-paste response they just got, but hey, if you’re not going to read the things I put time and energy into curating and then send your email again with keywords filtered so my autoresponder can’t catch it, I don’t much care. I feel bad for you, but I will guard my limited time and energy. (and going forward anyone doing that will just get blocked)

Also, most of the time I’m not qualified to do what they want. I can’t diagnose anyone or tell them what meds to take. I’m just a sick bitch sharing the resources I spent literal years curating to try and make things easier for others.

(covid absolutely made this 100% worse. I’ve got so many people reaching out because unlike a few other well known MCAS bloggers I don’t charge for my time or push supplements via my website. I’ll tell you what supplements I use, but I don’t profit from it. Legally, I can’t, but it also just feels a bit morally icky.)

Hopefully when I get around to my website update, having just a page I can easily curate and update as new studies come out will help with this.

And to those who send me apologetic emails saying they tried to find things on Tumblr but the search engine wasn’t working: it's cool. Tumblr doesn’t show me half of my MCAS info posts at this point.

Functional webbed site.

[2-dsimp]

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

Hybrid rule 202: Always give your cat milk before you go!

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

Cat hybrid! Tamaki Amajiki x female reader

Cw: Praise, NFSW, monsterfuxking, overstimulation, breeding, usage of cunt, slight lactation, smonophillia, impregnation, oral f! Receiving

🔞 MDNI/ NO AGELESS BLOGS🔞

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

You just got back after a trifling day at work, pulling 9 to 5’s working under a boss who’s really got his work cut out for him. If he thought for even one second that you were gonna stay overtime, handling rabid clients over the most ridiculous of complaints about hybrids.

Talking about how they wanted one, no, needed one in their pathetic lives. It annoyed you to no end to have spoiled grown adults complain about how getting hybrid companions are damn near impossible. Which to be honest it was.

You worked at a special shop that was anonymously known for their hybrid clientele. Who’d willingly sign up to be paired with a potential mate should you find someone who matches all the credentials, tailored fit for your esteemed hybrid clients.

However the partner selection comes down to luck, should a person call a certain number that pertains to your shop. They’re one of the few lucky individuals who’ve gotten a chance to be paired with the love of their life or best friend forever. The reason being that the store number changes periodically, so that not just anyone can be included in the match making just to be fair.

The next stage would be having them sign a contract that states that they’ve lost their right to privacy. In order for you to see if they’re qualified to even be considered as said hybrid’s life partner. Since the hybrids have specific tastes and desires that they believe their human partner should have.

Finally once everything checks out, you then notify said hybrid that you’ve found their match. And notify them that you’ll transport them via portal straight into their home and lives.

I guess you could say you were a match maker of some sorts. The job can be tiring however, it puts a smile on your face. To see your matches made in heaven to be living happily ever after with each other in the end. You were the best of the best in this industry, as your matchmaking rate was 100% accurate. So no wonder you have evolved into a sleep deprived workaholic.

“W-welcome back honey, how was work?”

Thank the lord for your sweet hybrid husband Amajiki, he’d always wait for your return even after he’d been swamped with hero work as well. Making sure the house was kept clean and made sure to make his mate feel comfortable and taken care of.

“It was tiring as usual baby, but nothing that I can’t handle.”

At your drained response he looked down at the ground, almost guiltily as if he had something to hide. Uh uh not in this household, so you cupped his face mindful of his whiskers. And made him look directly into your eyes, indicating with no words how he should just spit it out already.

“Bunny…I’m sorry to say this when you’re already overworked but my heats coming up soon. Just to give you a heads up! Y-you don’t have to worry about helping if you don’t want too—“

You shut him up with a passionate kiss from your plump lips. Stealing his breath away, he could feel his heart thumping out his chest. He could never fully understand how he managed to have you as his mate for life. You were literally his goddess in the flesh, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“Baby I’ll always want to help you in any way possible, so don’t ever bring up that nonsense again mkay?”

He gulped and stiffly nodded.

Face flushed pink, along with heart shaped pupils, he’d never do anything you didn’t want. If only you knew how much power you held over him. After leaving him unable to function you left to get ready for bed as today’s work had taken a lot out of you.

Once your lovely husband got into bed, you quickly turned off the lights and proceeded to drift off to sleep cuddling into Amajiki within your king sized bed. scarf secured tightly around your kinky hair, the silk satin bonnet placed snugly on top.

It was a peaceful night until you found it getting harder to breath through your nose, from weight being applied to your stomach. But you payed no mind thinking it was the thick covers limiting your air supply, the room was getting hot anyways so you promptly kicked the blankets off and slumbered away.

Failing to notice the your hybrid husband sitting on top of you staring pointedly at your defenseless half naked form, he was thirsty. Cat ears perked at attention, from the unforgiving urge to drink milk.

Amajiki couldn’t restrain the drool dripping from the corner of his mouth at the alluring fragrance you possessed. You smelt so good, he wanted to try and milk you to see if that could satisfy his peckish pallet. He gingerly placed his hands on your chest to knead and grope at your generous mounds.

“You smell so good baby, I bet your milk would taste so good.”

He said in a hushed voice.

Using his fingers to pinch and pull at your hardening nipples, to see if any breast milk would come out. Pouting from not seeing immediate results, he leaned down to take a supple tit and suctioned his lips around a dark areola. Swirling his wet tongue and nibbling at it to get any milky substance out.

Due to his quirk the saliva that he carries can act as a slight asphrodiasic. Thanks to that he managed to see those slicked areoles perked up with tiny beads of milk. However that wasn’t enough as he wanted those nipples to gush with the sweetness of your lactating tits.

“That’s not enough, I need more honey. I’m so thirsty”

He whined.

In his heat crazed mind He got a thought that maybe it was because you weren’t impregnated yet. So all he had to do was fuck all his seed into your womb ensuring he could indulge in your milk that’d probably taste as sweet as you smell. His violet feline eyes sparkled at the mere thought, as his slim tail wagged like a happy dog.

Sparing no time he teared your panties to shreds with his sharp claws, becoming entranced by your natural luring scent coming from your exposed nether regions. Admiring your pussy openly with an endearing smile.

“You’re so beautiful Bunny”

He praised endearingly.

He wasn’t worried about you waking up since he had your explicit permission to do what he seems fit whenever his heat came with a vengeance. He’ll be sure to buy you as many clothes as you want to apologize for the clothes he destroyed. But with the way you seemed to be unbothered by your panties literally getting ripped off of you. He could take more relaxed measures.

First he wanted to eat you out, so he started by shuffling in between your plush brown thighs inhaling a whiff of that pussy before delving in between those lips with his rough tongue.

It was messy and sloppy from the ravenous way he ate you out like you were his last meal on death row. Savoring the tasty juices that you left on his tastebuds, he had to practically rip himself away from the honey that dribbled from your sweet lubbed hole. That winked at him flirtatiously, teasing him, taunting him to finish what he started.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll get you all nice and filled up with my kits.”

Fishing out his long fat barbed dick, with the little ridge bumps trailing down from his leaking tip. He used his stream of precum as lubricant, Panting when he started to press up against your slick folds. being mindful of the spines protruding from his penis as a means to stay hooked within his mate.

The mere sight of your juices dribbling onto his dick from tip straight down to his balls made him go feral. And thrust deeply into your tight heat, a pretty moan falling from his lips as he reveled in your squelching cunt.

Today must’ve really worn you out, since you didn’t even bother arousing from your deep slumber. Only uttering praises and soft moans, as he pounded into your pussy like a dog in heat, or should I say cat. Unrelenting in his mission to impregnate you so he could suck on those delicious lactating breasts of yours.

“B-bunny you’re so tight and warm, your pretty pussy is hugging my dick so well!”

He mewled.

His face flushed a beet red as his ears were pulled back in deep concentration, leaning down he began to litter you in the faintest of kisses. Licking your sweat and nibbling on your exposed neck lovingly in a trance. In contrast to the harsh impact of his pelvis clashing against your trembling thighs. Grinding hard against your mound, that was messy with lewd fluid coming from the both of your conjoined bodies.

He was getting close, gripping your hips tightly and lifting both of your legs onto of his broad shoulders. To watch your beautiful breasts jiggle at the rhythm of his rough railing into your gushing cunt. That fluttered around his pulsating length as you squirted from the stimulation.

“Bunny I’m close! I’m so close to filling you with my kits, please take it! Take all of my cum!”

Letting out an feral hiss, he crammed his hips flush against your entrance. Locking in his barbed dick with the spines that implanted themselves inside your soaked walls. Allowing the sharp tip of his mushroom tip to burst nicely inside that irresistible drenched pussy he claimed as his own.

Your husband twitched from the overstimulation with each and every flood of cum that completely coated your walls. His fat balls being drained of his seed he’s saved up just for you. Surely he got you pregnant after that, hopefully when you wake up in the morning you wouldn’t be too mad at how much of a mess he’s made out of you.

Since he silently swore that throughout this heat he won’t stop pumping you full with his seed. Until he can fully milk your tits should he happen to get an unsaitiable thirst again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Pt 2 ? 👀

[the-lgbtqsmp]

QSMPantheon

updated EVEN MORE!!

Pierre's wife, Alpharad, Mariana, and Connor have been added, as well as Mousey's title

Luzu is now Lana's champion

animals and suggestions have also been added

explanations:

Mousey is "Queen of Hell" because Satan is just A Name, and that's the official title of her job, yknow? I might tweak it to look like Bad's, as Mousey, Bad, and Tina are the same kind of entities

Connor is a line below everyone as he is not a god with a champion, he's just Mousey's suboordinate

I remembered after I answered the ask why Pierre's wife isn't on the doc: it's because I could never find any sort of name for her, not even an online username like Kari with 'Forevinha'. For now, she's just "???".

Like Pierre's wife, I unfortunately COMPLETELY FORGOT about Alpharad when I was making/updating the doc, but that's fixed now!

I'm not sure on the choices of animals for Barb, Matt, Grace, and Isa, so those are questioned

As for other deities who don't have an animal symbol, I'm not sure on what their animal would be at all

Luzu is Lana's champion, as (q)Luzu may or may not have history with other islanders, but it's nice to think, no? (I see you Luckity community)

extra details/headcanons:

Connor has next to no influence on Quesadilla Island. rip (sidenote: i remember being OBSESSED with Connor years ago and this is NOT HELPING my infatuation with voice acting /nm /lh)

I talked in one of my servers about this, but yes! Missa and Bad are both reapers. The Grim Reaper is the big guy in charge, while other reapers take the brunt of the workload (hence why Missa isn't on the island as often - he's reaping souls). Think of it like Death from Supernatural. There is a whole network of reapers, but the eldest (or most qualified) is The Grim Reaper. When The Grim Reaper is killed off, another reaper takes their place. Of course, Death from Supernatural in this anaology is The Grim Reaper. Mumza, who is Death, is The Grim Reaper's boss.

The Grim Reaper deals in deaths of special individuals and other important cases, as well as a kind of "office work"

The heirarchy goes: Death -> The Grim Reaper / Minor Death Deities -> Reapers

Missa was a devout follower of Santa Muerte in life, and when he died, Death turned him into one of her reapers, as thanks for his kindness and loyalty.

other:

If you have any suggestions of animals/more deities/more entities/headcanons, feel free to flood my inbox!

[boo-its-stress]

So I had a silly little idea about what if Danny was ghost king but he didn’t actually have to be in charge because he is baby. You don’t put a baby in charge you put an adult in charge until baby is ready. Vlad would be the most qualified. But he’s Vlad. So. It needs to be somebody else. Batman. I’m talking about Bruce Wayne. Death touched and not ready to rule the infinite realms in his stead. I’m full of big thoughts on this but instead of organizing them and sharing them I wrote a little Blurbo.

Bruce was on the bat computer writing incident reports on the night’s patrol. It was a quiet night and it looked like everyone might get at least 4 hours of sleep tonight. Well, quiet on the streets of Gotham. The cave was very much not quiet as Tim seemed to have had the stupendous idea to intentionally rile Damian up. Idle hands may be the devil’s playthings but apparently an Idle Tim was more likely to lose all sense of self preservation. He wasn’t too worried yet, he could hear Dick trying to keep the peace which had about 50/50 odds of working.

The sudden silence was the absolute worst thing he could be hearing right now. He spun around in that chair as fast as bathumanly possible and stood up. Prepared to deal with an attempted fratricide. But what he saw froze him in his tracks, though not quite as literally as everything else. Damian was frozen mid leap towards an equally frozen Tim who's laughing face was in the midst of shifting towards regret while Dick was reaching out to catch him. He was instantly on guard for whoever had done this, it would be an unlikely coincidence for him to be the only one (or even one of many) left unfrozen if this was a global event that had nothing to do with him. No this was likely a deliberate act but the question remained if the intent was hostile or not. Not that it really mattered because they froze his boys and he would not be relaxing until that was undone.

He felt a presence above him and threw a batarang even as he was turning to face them. And the batarang passed straight through a floating blue humanoid. A being who radiated an aura of power that was only somewhat ruined by the pendulum clock in their chest and a total lack of concern for the weaponry thrown their way. There was a beat of tense silence before they shifted into the form of a child and gave the impression of raising an eyebrow despite not having any above the unsettling wholly red eyes “Did I catch you at a bad time Bruce? I can come back.” And just like that his guard was up even further. An intruder in the batcave with this kind of power and he knew his name? That could not mean anything remotely good. He was mentally preparing alternative methods of attack should this turn to violence, as most forms of physical attack would be useless depending on what form of phasal shifting that just was.

“Oh there’s no need for any of that Bruce. I’m just here to congratulate you on your ascendancy to Kinghood.” That left him wrongfooted and before he could even muster up a response and begin with any proper Questioning, the being continued. “Well, King Regent at least. The rightful ghost king is still a child and you possess the familial relation necessary to stand in until they’re ready to ascend the throne. Should you choose to refuse this position you have 30 days to find a suitable replacement and contact the high council of the infinite realms with this information.” And just as suddenly as the… Ghost? Just as the possible ghost had appeared, they were gone.

All at once life returned to the world and there was an audible thump as one Robin collided with another. But it was Dick who screamed. For if one were to view things from his perspective, Bruce had teleported from across the room and he thought he was immune to the Batman jump scares now! With Dick and Tim briefly caught up in their own individual terrors it was Damian who noticed something was wrong. He shoved Tim aside with contempt, rising to his feet and dusting himself off as if he felt especially dirty after the physical contact he himself had initiated. “Father? What is it?”

Bruce let out the slightest huff of relief at seeing his boys in motion once more, most wouldn’t notice it at all, but the collection of current and former robins were not most people. They were all at attention, waiting to be told and willing to resort to trickery if he wasn’t in a sharing mood. “Something was in the bat cave.” All three stiffened, knowing this was serious. He returned to the computer to begin a profile on the (man? Ghost? clock?) and also to avoid looking his children in the eye. No need to give away how badly this had shaken him. “They were capable of freezing time selectively. And froze all of you while we spoke. Possibly everyone else. Oracle, is it still 1:27 outside the batcave?”

He could hear rapid fire typing before she replied. “Matches up with the time in Gotham and there’s no noticeable time delay between here and anywhere else on Earth. I’ll have to get back to you on if we fell out of alignment with other planets, but I can tell you there’s no gaps in the footage in the batcave either, it… it looks like you teleported.”

Well that was not comforting news in the slightest. Whoever this was, they were incredibly powerful. Possibly capable of stopping all of time with (hopefully) no consequences. Looks like he might actually have to take what was said seriously. For such a powerful entity would have little reason to lie about such a thing. But could he really? He might have had a few close calls with death but he was still living? His heart was still beating? How could a living man be the reigning king of ghosts? Even as a regent? And regent to who exactly? A child? Is that by human or ghost standards? Bruce seemingly didn’t qualify as a child but would Dick? The ghost had said familial relation which was incredibly vague and unhelpful. Did his adopted children count or was it only Damian? Could it possibly be some distant cousin? He didn’t know and unfortunately he had no leads to speak of. How was he even supposed to contact this High Council of the Infinite Realms? He got the sinking suspicion that was the point. That he wasn’t being given a choice in the matter.

His eldest broke him out of his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder, reading what he’d written before locking eyes with him. “And what exactly did he want to talk about B?”

He couldn’t help the slight downturn of his lips as he answered, “Apparently I’ve been named the Regent King of Ghosts.”

And with the widening of Dick’s eyes and a muffled curse from Tim as he missed a step and collided with a table he couldn’t help thinking he was right. The intruder hadn’t brought anything good.

When he later called Constantine asking if he knew how to contact The High Council of the Infinite Realms and the man promptly swore before hanging up? He was absolutely sure he had found himself tangled up in something that was bound to cause him at least one headache in the near future.

When he found the first green sticky note that appeared between one blink and the next he was ready to have words with whoever put him in this position. He sincerely hoped the King he was playing regent for wasn’t Jason.

[centrally-unplanned]

Another big stop in Tokyo for me was Jimbocho Book Town! It is a neighborhood of, depending on who you ask, up to 400 generally-secondhand bookstores flanked by some of the major universities in Tokyo. The local government even prints out maps of the stores to help people find them all:

Which, you will note, is not 400 stores, because the process of becoming an "official" Jimbocho Town Bookstore is an intensely political operation run by local stakeholders with tons of fights over what should qualify and what rights that entails - never change humanity!

"Book Towns" used to actually be quite a common thing, and they peaked during the literary boom of the late 19th century. Figuring out "what books existed" was a hard task, and to do serious research you needed to own the books (you weren't making photocopies), so concentrating specialty bookstores in one area made sense to allow someone to go to one place and ask around to find what they need and discover what exists. It was academia's version of Comiket! Modern digital information & distribution networks slowly killed or at least reduced these districts in places like Paris or London, but Jimbocho is one of the few that still survives.

Why it has is multi-causal for sure - half of this story is that Tokyo is YIMBY paradise and has constantly built new buildings to meet demand so rents have been kept down, allowing low-margin, individually-owned operations to continue where they have struggled in places like the US. These stores don't make much money but they don't have to. But as important is that Japan has a very strong 'book collector' culture, it's the original baseball cards for a lot of people. The "organic" demand for a 1960's shoujo magazine or porcelainware picture book is low, but hobbyists building collections is a whole new source of interest. Book-as-art-collection powered Jimbocho through until the 21st century, where - again like Comiket - the 'spectacle' could give it a lift and allow the area to become a tourist attraction and a mecca for the ~cozy book hoarder aesthetic~ to take over. Now it can exist on its vibes, which go so far as to be government-recognized: In 2001 the "scent wafting from the pages of the secondhand bookstore" was added to Japan's Ministry of Environment's List of 100 Fragrance Landscapes.

Of course this transition has changed what it sells; when it first began in the Meiji area, Jimbocho served the growing universities flanking it, and was a hotpot of academic (and political-polemic) texts. Those stores still exist, but as universities built libraries and then digital collections, the hobby world has taken over. Which comes back to me, baby! If you want Old Anime Books Jimbocho is one of the best places to go - the list of "subculture" stores is expansive.

I'll highlight two here: the first store I went to was Kudan Shobo, a 3rd floor walk-up specializing in shoujo manga. And my guys, the ~vibes~ of this store. It has this little sign outside pointing you up the stairs with the cutest book angel logo:

And the stairs:

Real flex of Japan's low crime status btw. Inside is jam-packed shelves and the owner just sitting there eating dinner, so I didn't take any photos inside, but not only did it have a great collection of fully-complete shoujo magazines going back to the 1970's, it had a ton of "meta" books on shoujo & anime, even a doujinshi collection focusing on 'commentary on the otaku scene' style publications. Every Jimbocho store just has their own unique collection, and you can only discover it by visiting. I picked up two books here (will showcase some of the buys in another post).

The other great ~subculture~ store I went to was Yumeno Shoten - and this is the store I would recommend to any otaku visiting, it was a much broader collection while still having a ton of niche stuff. The vibes continued to be immaculate of course:

And they covered every category you could imagine - Newtype-style news magazine, anime cels, artbooks, off-beat serial manga magazines, 1st edition prints, just everything. They had promotional posters from Mushi Pro-era productions like Cleopatra, nothing was out of reach. I got a ton of books here - it was one of the first stores I visited on my second day in Jimobocho, which made me *heavily* weighed down for the subsequent explorations, a rookie mistake for sure. There are adorable book-themed hotels and hostels in Jimbocho, and I absolutely could see a trip where you just shop here for a week and stay nearby so you can drop off your haul as you go.

We went to other great stores - I was on the lookout for some 90's era photography stuff, particularly by youth punk photographer Hiromix (#FLCL database), and I got very close at fashion/photography store Komiyama Shoten but never quite got what I was looking for. Shinsendo Shoten is a bookstore devoted entirely to the "railway and industrial history of Japan" and an extensive map collection, it was my kind of fetish art. My partner @darktypedreams found two old copies of the fashion magazine Gothic & Lolita Bible, uh, somewhere, we checked like five places and I don't remember which finally had it! And we also visited Aratama Shoten, a store collecting vintage pornography with a gigantic section on old BDSM works that was very much up her alley. It had the porn price premium so we didn't buy anything, but it was delightful to look through works on bondage and non-con from as far back as the 1960's, where honestly the line between "this is just for the fetish" and "this is authentic gender politics" was...sometimes very blurry. No photos of this one for very obvious reasons.

Jimbocho absolutely earned its rep, its an extremely stellar example of how history, culture, and uh land use policy can build something in one place that seems impossible in another operating under a different set of those forces. Definitely one of the highlights of the trip.