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celestie0 · 2 days ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch7. if u wanna get groceries

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 7/x

ᰔ words. 10.3k

a/n. hiii my ihm darlings!! i don't have much to say in this beginning author's note haha but i have some author's notes at the end if you want to read them. but anywho hope you enjoy this chapterrr :)

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Ovulation is a very scary thing.

You can imagine many great women have had their lives greatly affected by this phenomenon.

This biological release of an egg into the fallopian tubes, simply desiring to be fertilized.

Women who have had their hearts set on their dreams, aspirations, full speed ahead towards the finish line on the other end,

Only to be dragged back by–

You shudder to even mention.

Attraction to a man.

So horrible.

So insane.

So humiliating.

And yet so–...

So natural.

Unfortunately.

You’re pretty sure Sabrina Carpenter has a song about it.

This is what you think of as you lean over the kitchen island, perched up on your elbows as you eat a peach, staring straight ahead at a certain fake husband who is seated on the couch.

He’s looking at the TV, watching some SNL skit he didn’t get to finish last weekend, tilting his head side to side with his grey sweatpant clad legs stretched out onto the coffee table in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He’s got a can of Celsius he’s swirling around with a loose grip, his elbow up on the cushion for a more lax resting state (which unfortunately also flexes his bicep very sexily from the positioning), and he doesn’t really seem particularly amused by what he was watching. And for some reason, it was hot.

You tilt your head to the right, watching him like a predator from across the hall, chewing down on a particularly juicy piece of peach that bursts its juice in your mouth, and you curse the fact that all you can think about right now is sex.

Sex.

When was the last time you had sex?

You postulated a little over a month ago when you and Choso were still together.

Granted, you’ve been too busy and overwhelmed and overstimulated with all the recent happenings of late to provide your own self with any sort of relief.

And God, it was showing.

Showing in the way that, no matter what, you can’t seem to shake the idea of wanting to sit in Gojo’s lap and be the second reason he never gets to finish watching that SNL skit.

Maybe it will help.

Maybe sitting in a man’s lap right now would heal you.

You set the now naked seed of peach down on the counter before straightening yourself up and walking around the kitchen island towards the living room. Gojo’s eyes don’t flicker to you until you’re well in his periphery, and when he looks up at you, he straightens himself up on the couch with curious wide eyes and drags his feet off the coffee table to plant his feet on the rug.

You pull your grandma nightgown up to your knees so that you can sit in his lap, surprise evident on his face as he watches your every movement before you’re comfortably seated on him with your hands on his shoulders.

“Fuck me,” you tell him.

“Wh–” he stutters, “I’m sorry, I could’ve sworn you just told me to fuck you.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” The heels of your hands press into his chest further to the point where it has to hurt.

“Is this a prank,” he asks as his hands fall to hold your hips on reflex.

You sigh, shifting around on his thighs. “Can you just do it already before I change my mind?”

“Wow. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright. I’ve changed my mind.”

You push off of his shoulders and stand up on one leg, ready to get up and away from him to find some other way to satisfy your desperate desire for a penis, but he reaches out to grab your wrist.

“Heyyy wait wait wait,” he says, pulling you back into a seat on his lap. “Why do you want to have sex all of a sudden?”

You exhale slowly, twiddling with your thumbs as you look at him. “You said it yourself the other day,” you say, “good way to relieve stress.”

“And you’re not gonna kill me afterwards?”

“Umm no promises?”

“Look, as much as I’d like to take you up on the offer, a part of me thinks you’re making a…rash decision here.”

“Oh my fucking god who cares if I am?? Maybe I just wanna fuck for the sake of fucking?? What’s the big fucking deal??”

“The big deal is that, knowing you, you’re not going to speak to me or look me in the eye for three weeks if I let you go through with something you’re not a hundred percent on.”

Your shoulders sulk a little. You thought this would be an easy yes, where he tears your nightgown off and then ravishes you whole on this couch with every primal caveman instinct that’s encoded in his XY chromosome DNA. This was supposed to be spontaneous and sexy…not a candid conversation.

The thought flashes through your head that maybe he thinks that you’re just trying to use him.

“I want to have sex with you,” you clarify. And then a pause. “I think.” You pause for a moment again. “I’m, like, pretty sure.”

He slides you back to where you’re sitting closer to his knees than to his groin, and then fully leans back onto the couch before tucking his hands behind his head like he was physically putting himself in cuffs to prevent himself from touching you any further. “Tell you what. Let’s circle back in an hour, and if you still want to, then sure.”

“I cannot believe how diplomatic you’re being about this.”

“Well isn’t this whole thing between us a diplomatic agreement? That’s what you said to me when we got fake engaged.”

“That–” you blink at him, not expecting those words to eventually be used against you, “...whatever.”

“Also, what happened to the no sex rule?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grins and leans forward, both of his elbows settling onto the top of the cushion behind him, and you’re proud of yourself for only staring at his biceps for 0.000034 seconds before meeting his line of sight again.

“Are those rules just suggestions?” he asks with a stupidly teasing look on his face.

You purse your lips together, skin feeling warm suddenly as you try to push him away by a palm to his sternum. But then you realized something. A fundamental rule of biology. The woman never chases.

You smile at him, cheeky in a deceptive way that’s meant to scare him, and it does seem to alarm him when you push him back onto the couch rather forcefully. His hands fall to hold your hips again as he looks at you with round eyes, and you scoot forward on his lap, to where you’re almost sitting right above his groin.

“Hey–” he says, like a warning.

Like some awful romantic comedy, you’re drawing the tip of your nail down the front of his chest seductively, leaning forward so he catches the faint scent of the perfume you spritzed onto your skin in the morning, and you can tell it’s working from the way he tips his chin up in interest. You innocently “shift” in his lap to get comfortable, and see his throat bob when he swallows hard from the feeling. The finger that’s been running down the soft linen of his shirt trails up until it runs through the hair at the back of his neck, and he’s pulling you closer to him now by a rough grip on your hips. His breathing picks up, eyes somehow wild yet calm as he looks at you with a set jaw, and you try your best to maintain a sultry expression as you tilt your head down at him while strongly fisting at the longer strands of his hair that fall short at the nape of his neck. He shifts underneath you, sinking further into the couch, his breathing fast enough to where you can see the rise and fall of his chest, his gaze finally dropping to your lips as he parts his own, and he briefly runs his tongue over his bottom lip before–

Before the doorbell rings.

You both blink at each other.

You don’t even realize how close you two were to making out until you realize you can’t even see the tip of his nose anymore.

“My, uh,” he starts, voice sounding gruff so he has to clear his throat, “my wood just came.”

“Y–” you glance down at his lap, “your wood just what?!”

He leans away from you, sinking his back into the cushion and pointing over his shoulder with a thumb towards the door. “The cedar planks I ordered to finish my woodworking project. Pretty sure they just got dropped off.”

You blink at him, releasing the grip you still had on the hair at the back of his head, your arms moving to weakly rest on his shoulders instead. “Oh.”

“I’ve gotta go sign the delivery.

“Okay.”

“Sometime today, preferably.”

“Alright.”

“Can…can I head to the door? Is that allowed?”

“...I suppose.”

His fingers that were still resting under your butt in a strong grip push up gently on the flesh to prod you off of him, and you (reluctantly) swing your legs off of his lap then slump down onto the couch indignantly beside him, twiddling with your thumbs as you watch him get up off the cushions with a small grunt from the push of his palms on his knees. And then he heads to the door.

Continuing to assess your cuticles with the tuck of your chin towards your collarbone, you hear Gojo talk to whoever was at the door. Another masculine voice. Sounds younger, probably younger than you. Delivery boy. Gojo makes easy conversation with him, some buddy-buddy diction that’s entirely lost on you, and you hear the other man laugh. And the fact that you feel equally as possessed to want to fuck the delivery man makes you realize you need to put yourself in a cage the next time you feel like this.

You hear the door close along with the metallic click of the lock, and you peak your head up over the top of the couch to look at Gojo, who is leaning a giant cardboard box that looks really heavy against the wall. He then exhales, dusting his hands off and he’s stretching his neck from side to side again.

He glances over his shoulder to find you still looking at him.

“You woodwork?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Is that the noisy thing you do at six in the morning while I’m trying to sleep after a night shift?!?!”

“It’s not that noisy,” he says, leaning back onto the wall and crossing his arms. Then he grins. “Want to see what I’m working on?”

“No.”

“Oh come on.” He jerks his head towards the kitchen leading out to the screen door of the backyard. And then he’s shuffling his feet off into that direction. “Humor me for once.”

You slide off the couch onto the floor, grumbling something to yourself before you stand up onto your feet and shuffle your feet across the hardwood floor to follow him, the hem of your nightgown sliding across the surface.

Gojo pulls the screen door back and you step out into the pleasant afternoon. It’s sunny, with crisp air that settles on your senses, the casted shadows of clouds that slowly pass over the grass reminding you of your childhood, or perhaps of simpler times.

You step into the flip flops you see near the shoe mat, and they are nearly twice the size of your feet. Gojo opts for the dustier pair located behind the grill and then he walks across the grass of his backyard towards the shed tucked away near the side of the house. You’ve always been able to briefly see this shed from one of the windows in your house, but you could never see what went on inside.

He unclasps the metal lock on the wooden door of the shed and pulls it open with a creak. You peer inside, the smell of wood shavings and some other rather comforting chemicals hitting you almost instantly. You also sneeze. And then sneeze again.

“Bless you,” he says, and when you glance at him, he’s smiling at you before he takes a step inside. You cross your arms and rub your elbows, feeling feeble in your ditsy nightgown as you step into a space that looks far too industrial for you.

“See?” Gojo says once you’re fully inside the shed with him, drawing your gaze from the dusty ceilings towards the covered structure in the center of the workspace. He pulls the blue tarp back, revealing something square-looking. “It’s a coffee table.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you tilt your head to assess it. “Oh. It’s–...it’s actually quite nice.”

“Yeah.” He knocks on the surface with his knuckles. “It’s pretty sturdy. I’ve been looking to replace what I’ve got in the house for a while now. And–” he straightens himself up again, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “That wood I just got delivered is black walnut. Stunning stuff. I’m going to use it to finish the corners and the cabinets.”

“Ahhh,” you say, expressing interest. I mean, you were intrigued by his many strange hobbies. How can you explain this…you suppose after many years of working, sleeping, eating, and taking care of your mom, it's somewhat pleasantly disorienting to find yourself in the middle of a normal person’s life. Someone who has time to woodwork in his free time. Endearing. It was kind of endearing.

“I’ve gotta flip it over though,” he says with a sigh, “I fucked up and forgot to build the base first.”

You lean back on one of the cabinets behind you that was level with your hip, and you watch Gojo for a moment as he bends down to assess all angles of the table before he grips the underside of it with his hands, the strength of his grip evident in the strain of the veins running up his arms and disappearing into the short sleeve cotton of his shirt.

But he glances up at you before moving it. “Can you stand over there?”

“Huh?” You blink at him.

“Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize you were standing in quite literally the exact zone of potential danger. You make a mental note to work on your survival instincts.

You lean off of the cabinet and step off to the side.

You watch as he begins to lift up on the table, his biceps flexing with the movement, oh and that grunt that leaves his lips once he’s got it at the angle he wants hits you somewhere you wish it didn’t. The sight of him leaning over, letting out a slow exhale as he slowly sets the table down on its side over the cushioning mat had you in a trance.

Once he’s satisfied with wherever it’s at, he steps away from it and dusts his hands off. “Alright.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Got an hour to work on this.”

You nod at him.

He glances over at you.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

“Did–...did you wanna watch?”

“Nope,” you say, shuffling your slippers to the other side of the door. Because you fear that catching the sight of him all sweaty and disheveled from woodworking would get you into serious trouble today. At least you know when to call it quits.

In the hour that Gojo spends doing god knows what sort of manly sorcery in that shed, you get dressed into something that wasn’t a cozy nightgown much to your dismay, and head over to your house next door. You figure you could use this time to clean up the place a little so that you can take pictures for the house on Zillow.

When you step inside the house, the nauseating smell of medication hits you. It’s a smell that you can only know if you’ve lived with it for years. Something artificial, something that smells–...well, sick. It’s a scent you associate with sickness. It hits you randomly sometimes with the patients that you treat at the hospital. Patients that smell just like your mom does. Something akin to a pill closet. You’ve always cursed the human tendency to assort semantics to certain senses, because then it only takes away all the healing you thought you had gotten through.

You walk down the hall towards your mother’s bedroom. You figured you’d start here first, since it would be the most difficult to clean for you. Her bed is set up neatly, exactly as you left it before she left for hospice three weeks ago.

Her well-worn rocking chair sits near the window with the old knit blanket she made over twenty years ago draped over it. It faces the window instead of the inside of the house, which was a habit she always had throughout her life. Maybe as an art teacher, she always felt that whatever was outside was more intriguing than within.

You run a hand by the sturdy wooden dresser covered in dust and scattered medications, along with all of your mother’s draped headscarves. She liked to change them every day, the pattern of each of them aggressively absurd and somewhat hypnotizing, but it fits for her age–that sort of clothing. Your mother used to have beautiful hair. It was something all her friends had always been jealous of. She made the decision to shave it all off rather than watch as it slowly detangled from her hair from chemo, and she claims to have stashed it away somewhere, but you know that she likely donated it instead.

When you make it to her desk, you see paint splattered over it with a rusted easel holding up a blank canvas. But there were swipes of paint across the palette, as though she were trying to find the perfect blend of colors, but failed before she could put brush to canvas. Beside her little art setup, you see a little sticky note with scribblings on it.

Morning tea

Medications- Gabapentin 600 300

Today is Thursday. Oct 16th

800 432 5555 call Dr Johnson

Turn off the stove

At the very bottom:

- daughter. Nurse. She loves you

You suck a deep breath in, releasing it slowly.

This was an impossible task.

To stuff all of this away into boxes.

All of this life.

You slowly peel the sticky note off the desk, folding it neatly before placing it into your pocket. Then you start with the canvas, the easel, the paint. Exactly as is, without cleaning anything at all, you stache them away into boxes. You wanted to preserve what you could, even if it was all for show.

By the time you finish cleaning out her desk, you feel winded from emotions. You decide to take a break and try to clean whatever was upstairs instead. Before you leave the room, you see another sticky note written behind the door.

remember ! wear your sweater, it’s cold today

And that’s when you start crying.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

”Hey,” you say as you walk back into Gojo’s house in the early afternoon, holding up a digital camera that you found in the attic in your hand. “The upstairs of my house is cleaned out now, and I’m almost done with the downstairs part…just waiting on finishing one room. Can we start taking photos to put the listing up online?”

Gojo glances up at you from where he’s stood in the kitchen, tugging at his sleeves, and you just now notice he’s dressed up in a dark navy suit with a white shirt underneath. No tie. “Uhh yeah I can help you with it, I’ve just gotta go run a few errands and then we can do it when I get back?” He ruffles his hair a bit and you see that it’s slightly damp like he just took a shower.

“What errands?”

“Gas, amazon return, Costco. Maybe get a donut if I’m feeling like being a bad boy.”

“Ew. Also, why don’t you get gas at Costco?”

“It’s a little cheaper at Sam’s Club.”

You gasp. “You have a Sam’s Club membership??”

“Yes.”

“You’re a traitor.”

He rolls his eyes as he pushes his shoulders back to get better settled into his suit jacket. “I have a Costco membership too.”

“Can I come?”

“What? For–...for the errands?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at you from the other side of the island, brow furrowing slightly. “Uh. Sure?”

You know it sounds silly to say, but not having to take care of someone twenty-four-seven has left you with little to no sense of purpose, and an even more intense feeling of loneliness. And as much as Gojo gets on your nerves from time to time, you’ve noticed that you’ve been…craving his presence lately. Or maybe a presence might be more accurate than any one specific person, but you can comfortably admit it to yourself that you’re a somewhat codependent person that enjoys being largely implemented into someone’s life. You’ve even started borderline nesting in his home. You bought two new fluffy throw blankets for his couch, set up a bowl of fruits at the center of the kitchen island, and stocked up on laundry detergent, even though he already had two backup boxes. It was driving you crazy. This feeling of having too much free time and personal space than what you knew what to do with.

And it had been a while since you went to Costco. The holy land for all adults.

“Can I get this? Ohhhh what about this? Can we get this too? Wait. Wait. Brown sugar boba mochi?!” You hold the packet up into the air as if it were baby Simba in the Lion King, and then you turn to Gojo, clutching the bag to your chest. “Please?”

He exhales, leaning over the handle of the shopping cart and levels his gaze with you. “...no.”

You sulk your shoulders and sigh as you put it back.

He begins to push the cart down the aisle again. “You do realize that you have disposable income too, right?”

You trail after him. “No. I don’t. I’m in six figures of debt.”

He nods. “Fair.” And then he grabs a stray bag of brown sugar boba abandoned on top of the instant rice boxes then places it into the cart.

You watch as Gojo makes his rounds around Costco, very diligently aligning all the items in his shopping cart and assessing the quality of each thing he crosses off his list before deeming it worthy of purchase. Much different than your usual Costco run, which involves a lot of chaos and sweat. And he feels very husband material like this. Breaking no sweat to put the garden fertilizer in the cart shelf meanwhile you would’ve pulled your back out trying to do the same if you were on your own.

As you two make your way through the store, you get stopped by the post-office man, and then the local judge, and then the elderly couple that runs the church's weekly Bingo nights. All greeting you politely with a quick exchange of words and usually a sweet regard for your mother’s health before passing on by. You keep having to introduce Gojo as your husband, and many of them already know who he is, despite the fact that he’s only lived here for a year, which royally pisses you off to great extents, but he’s a social whore so it makes sense. And then all of them coo sweet things like wow, what a beautiful couple and you’re so lucky to have each other and my oh my he’s very handsome and at this point you would pay someone twenty bucks to say something like well she’s a looker! good for you! to Gojo because you’re sick of him always getting the ego boosts. When asked where you guys went for your honeymoon, you both say “Greece–” “Maldives–” at the same time in typical unrehearsed fashion. One of the town locals even asks when the two of you are going to have a baby, and you almost snort your free sample of San Pellegrino out your nose.

Perhaps the only thing that keeps a little pep in your step is the fact that everyone greets you first before they catch the familiar sight of Gojo too. It’s a small thing to celebrate, but when you’ve lived in the same town your whole life, it becomes somewhat of a prideful and wholesome thing when the town librarian, local mechanic, and farmer’s market lady all stop you in your lovely little Costco stroll. It was all in a day’s work.

“Jeez, you’re hella famous, y/n,” Gojo says as he continues to push the cart down the aisle after you just got done catching up with the volunteer Fire Chief.

You toss your hair over your shoulder at him. “Yes. I am somewhat of a princess in this town.”

“Does that make me your prince?”

“No. You’re my filthy peasant.”

“Alright…I like where this is going…”

“Get your nasty degradation kink away from me, you perv. This is Costco. It’s the holy house of God.”

Once you two make it to the wine section, you stare at bottles of dessert wines and hear Gojo talking on the phone off to the side.

“Hey, Sana. I’m at Costco right now. Do you guys need anything? I already got Juno’s muffins,” he says into his phone as he places two containers of blueberry muffins into the cart. You eye the raspberry cream cheese strudels. “Huh? Cornstarch?....If I tried to look for cornstarch at Costco, I’d be here for three hours.”

“Satoru,” you say to him once he gets off the call, tugging at his sleeve, “could we get those Haagen Daz ice cream bars? They’re so good.”

“No,” he says, pushing the cart down the chip aisle before he grabs a bag of tortilla chips. “We can’t get anything that needs to be frozen or refrigerated. I’ve gotta go prep a house that’s in the area since we’re out this far. I’ve got an evening showing.”

“What?!” you exasperate, “I thought we were just going home after this!”

“I never said that.”

“I can’t believe this. I had been dreaming of grabbing those ice cream bars since you mentioned the word Costco back at home. You could’ve brought your little cooler thing that you keep in the garage.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you wanted to come with me,” he says. “My original grocery list had seven non-perishable items on it.” You both glance at the cart, which was almost entirely full of things that you put in there. Things that nobody ever needs. Like a bladeless desk fan and an electric wine opener.

“Ah,” you say.

He smiles, leaning over the cart handle again and pushing it forward again away from the chilly air of the cooler section. “Retail therapy?”

You pout a little. “I haven’t had the chance in years.” You glance at the cart as he pushes it. “I should probably take it all out now.”

“It’s fine,” he says, “I’ll get you your bladeless fan. And whatever the fuck those other things are.”

You stop walking, blinking blankly at his back as he continues to wordlessly push the cart forward. There’s about a five second delay before you finally start trailing after him.

By the time Gojo finishes loading everything into the trunk of his car as you merely stand by for emotional support, and then he comes back from the long trek of returning the cart, you’re absolutely winded. You’re not sure why, because again, you haven’t really done much all day. But God damn, you forgot how exhausting it is to be a regular functioning member of society that contributes to the economy on the weekends (you didn’t pay for anything).

Gojo wordlessly takes off from the Costco parking lot and just when you think he’s going to get back onto the freeway to get to this house of his that he needs to prep, he jumps into the parking lot of a small shopping area before he parks his car in front of a smaller grocery store.

You give him a puzzled look.

“Hold on,” he says before clicking his seatbelt off, “gotta go get that cornstarch.”

“Wait—” you say, reaching out to grab him by the sleeve of his suit jacket as the most intense sensation of FOMO you’ve ever felt in your life overtakes all of your senses. “I’ll come with.”

He quirks a brow at you. You’re not surprised at his confusion. After all, you’ve been acting like some drug addict in withdrawal of social proximity to him all day long. But you’re at least glad he doesn’t express any further bewilderment and allows you to follow him inside the store like a duckling.

As Gojo veers off in the direction of likely corn starchiness, in a confident manner that would suggest he’s been to this store many times before, you meander about the aisles at your leisure. You get lost in the bustling colors of produce stacked neatly on top of one another, such that they could rival the great pyramids of Egypt. Not to mention, processed foods lining the wall right next to it. This was what suburban life is all about. Matter of fact, this is what dreams are made of.

“y/n?”

Oh, fuck. That voice is definitely not what dreams are made of.

The opposite, actually.

Nightmares.

You hear that voice in your nightmares.

You turn on your heel to find none other than your ex boyfriend, he who shall not be named (Choso Kamo), standing right behind you as he holds a grapefruit in his hand, blinking at you dumbly with surprise apparent on his face.

“Wh—” you briefly stutter before the automatic scowl settles onto your face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m buying fruit.”

“For what?”

“What do you mean, for what? To eat, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I’m not convinced you wouldn’t try to fuck that grapefruit. Given you have low standards for what you stick your dick inside of.”

“Uh?…I’ve stuck my dick inside of you plenty of t—”

“Shut it!!!” you yell at him, then turn away with a wince on your face. “I didn’t think it through before I said it.”

“As usual?”

“You’re being a jerk. You know who I meant when I said that.”

“Okay. So, you don’t think things through before you say them. And I continue to deflect said things. Let me know when anything’s changed between us, y/n.”

You cross your arms at him menacingly and unwaveringly glare at him as a meek mother pushes her young son by the shoulders away from the two simmering adults having their savory conversation within the produce aisle. You’re about the snark out another comment but then the automatic water sprayers interrupt your flow. And also a scrawny employee drops a giant box of eggplant onto the ground before placing them onto the produce shelf.

“What are you doing on this side of town? You’re never out here,” Choso says as he sets the grapefruit back onto the stack.

“I don’t know. What are you doing here?”

“This is my new go-to grocery store.”

“Why not go to the Trader Joe’s that we always used to go to? It’s way closer to you.”

His shoulders sulk slightly at that.

Oh.

So, he’s been driving an extra thirty minutes each weekend to go grocery shopping on the other end of town,

Just so he doesn’t have to run into you anymore.

“Look…y/n,” he starts, “it’s not that I don’t want to see you—”

“Choso—”

“It’s just that you accuse me of fucking inanimate objects everytime I do see you.”

“I literally do not care if you do or don’t want to see me.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his gaze flitting downwards to your crossed arms, something catching his eye.

You glance down at yourself, and you catch the glimmer of diamond underneath bright fluorescent light.

“Oh come on,” Choso grumbles, “don’t tell me you actually wear that thing twenty-four-seven.”

“I’m a married woman, Choso. It’s what married women do.”

He clenches his jaw at that, tense enough to cause a vein strain in his neck, his brows narrowing into contempt, but just before he can say anything else, an arm wraps around your waist and you’re being pulled back into a broad chest.

“She’s pretty, huh?” you hear Gojo say and you blink up at him with your chin tilted towards the ceiling, and you yelp as he possessively pulls you in closer to him as he establishes jarring eye contact with Choso with that same old easy grin on his face. “Thank god I’m the one married to her.”

Choso almost blows a fuse at that. “I know she’s pretty,” he says through gritted teeth, “for six years, I was the one that got to f—”

“Ahh!!! Sale on tomatoes!!!” you interrupt the crass and ridiculously toxic masculine energy in the air as you wiggle out of Gojo’s grip then run over to the pristinely stacked romano tomatoes, picking some of them up and holding them like precious commodities. “Maybe we can make some tomato soup with grilled cheese tonight, honey???” you say with a forced smile towards Gojo as you now hold fifteen tomatoes in your arms, a couple of them falling to the floor with a bounce as they roll away.

“HEY!! LADY!!” the scrawny eggplant stacking employee from earlier yells out at you. Some late teens kid with acne speckled across his face and shaggy brown hair scattered over his forehead, somewhat slick with either gel or grease. “I just set those up!!! YOU SQUASH ‘EM, YOU BUY ‘EM.”

“Sorry,” you squeak out, putting the tomatoes back onto the display somewhat haphazardly before grabbing Gojo’s arm and tugging him towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here, please.”

“Huh? I’ve still gotta pay for the cornstarch though,” Gojo says, hardly budging despite your best efforts to womanhandle him.

“No time for that, we leave now. They don’t have cameras here, anyway. I already checked.” You continue to tug on his arm, your body leaning at an almost forty-five degree angle towards the exit as you struggle to get some drag to his feet, but again, he doesn’t budge.

You don’t know exactly why you so adamantly want to restrict Gojo from interacting with Choso, but maybe a part of it was embarrassment. You didn’t want Gojo to find out what Choso did to you and what an absolute fool he had made out of you. It would hurt your pride.

“Isn’t this guy a cop?” Gojo asks as he points his thumb towards Choso. “And you’re telling me to shoplift in front of him?”

“Can you just be on my fucking side for one second?” you grit at him, yanking on his sleeve so hard you almost tear the cuffs out of the holes, and he finally sighs before relenting into a gait towards your general direction.

As you hug Gojo’s arm tightly to keep his momentum towards you, you walk backwards and send Choso a nasty glare. His eyes are wide, studying you and Gojo together as you get further and further away from him. And for a brief, brief, brief, ever-so-slight fleeting moment of love and familiarity and the sight of his dark hair curling at the nape of his neck and the memory of warmth when he used to hold you in his arms in bed on cold winter mornings, you find that you miss him a little. But only a little. You swear that it’s only a little.

Gojo still makes a pit stop at the register much to your pleading dismay, but as always he has zero regard or interest for your melodramatic outbursts, but at least he shoves the extra change from the purchase into his pocket in a somewhat timely fashion so that you two can head out the door in your artificial haste.

In the car, you quickly click your seatbelt on and then have to watch Gojo as he takes his time clicking his back into place and enter some address into his car. You see the ETA on the GPS, and how it shows that this address is roughly thirty-four minutes away.

Once he gets onto the freeway, your mind begins to wander back to seeing Choso at the grocery store and how the sight of him rattled you. You twiddle with your thumbs in your lap nervously, shift around in your seat, chew at the edge of your nail, and Gojo seems to notice this.

“You know, having lived in this town your whole life, I would think you’d be used to the discomfort of running into people you don’t want to see,” he says.

You sigh. “Yes. In theory. But with Choso, it’s–…it’s different.” You hesitate. “It’s just that—” you try again before worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, “it’s just that, sometimes I don’t get him.”

Gojo is silent for a few seconds as he stares straight towards the road before he responds with, “What do you mean?”

“Like, he avoids me like the plague, and then begs me to go back to him, and then he pretends like I’m just a nuisance to him, and then when he sees me with you, he acts all—…I don’t know…all—”

“Jealous?”

You sink into your seat. “Something like that.”

“Hm. Yeah, to be honest, I don’t know. But you’re not wrong to find it strange.”

Feeling strangely validated in your feelings, you sit there twiddling with your thumbs and then glance out the window. There’s a silence that lasts maybe ten seconds before you say,

“Thanks for interrupting back there. Although, you don’t have to try to deliberately make him jealous anymore. Even though I know I literally asked you to do that. Which makes me a woman of severe psychiatric ailment. Of which I am slightly embarrassed about at the moment.”

“Nah,” he says as he turns the right onto the freeway entrance. When you look over at him, he has a smile on his face. “I like it. It’s never boring with you.”

Unsure if that’s a compliment or some shade of insult, you say, “and that’s a good thing?”

He shrugs, releasing one hand from the wheel and curling the other in a tight knuckled grip at the top of it as the car drives steady down the freeway. He rests his right elbow on the storage console. “Well, it’s different from what I’m used to.”

What are you used to? You so badly want to ask him.

But a flashback to his childhood bedroom at his parent’s house comes back to you.

Yearbook signatures, trophies, and photos abandoned underneath a bed.

You almost don’t even want to acknowledge that he has lived a life before you.

Was that self centered? Or perhaps childish? Or perhaps all in human nature?

You decide not to respond, instead directing your attention to the world outside the car window. The blades of grass dance across the shoulder of the road, all greenery following suit in the same swift motion. You watch as the land slowly turns from developed to more and more remote, yet still cozy and charming. Fields of green, vineyard arrangements, a wooden sign for a winery, a picturesque red barn house, a small cattle farm, an old town church with a bronze bell, hills of empty acres that are just begging to be touched by some great idea or civilization.

You’re privy to change in texture underneath the wheels as Gojo makes a turn onto gravel road about two miles after getting off the freeway. He drives up a hill, maybe a forty-five degree angle, with the crunch of rocks rubbing against the tread of the tires and you see a more distinct, purposeful arrangement of short decorative trees that line the properties of this narrow gravel road. They were large houses, sitting on slightly slanted hills that were all a part of a bumpy landscape that extends for miles. Some had formal fences, some had chain links, but all had expansive yards with no clear distinction of boundary, where the backyard could be the front yard too if only you had the imagination for it.

One house in particular catches your eye. It’s a pretty two story house with a detached garage or perhaps shed, painted in a dusky auburn with dark wooden paneling and structure. It sat near the top of this hill, the front yard being a steep upwards slope of grassy terrain that stretched for the full length of the property, about a hundred yards. The backyard dips behind the back of the hill, downwards into some territory you cannot set eyes on. But it’s stunning. It was gorgeous. Serene. With views of lush green surrounding its every corner. Intimately located, yet open enough to fresh air in which you almost feel one with the world. And in the early evening light, it looked like heaven.

You let out a slow exhale as you take in the sight that looks like a painting to you. There was something so romantic about a home. For as long as time, humans have enjoyed personifying objects, such as boats or planes or cars or trains. But what could feel more of a living thing than a home?

You hear Gojo click his seatbelt off beside you and you glance over at him. You click off your own seat belt and open your door, stepping out onto the gravel road.

Gojo comes around the car and approaches you, holding a folder in his hand with papers you can only assume have information on the property listing. You also hear the jingle of keys in his pocket as he pushes his hand into it.

“Got about,” he glances at his watch, “twenty minutes to prep. Oh, and if my clients ask, I’ll just introduce you as my assistant. And we’ll pretend that we have some sort of inappropriate workplace relationship. Just to intrigue them. It’ll make the house more memorable. Sound like a plan?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever gets food on your table.”

You watch as he pushes a copper key into the rusted lock that was clipped onto the chains holding the fence together, guarding the property. He yanks it down once he’s unlocked it and then pulls the fence apart, opening the way to head up the house. It borders on a feeling of trespassing, but you trail closely behind Gojo as he makes his way up the grassy hill, reminding yourself that he has the clearance as a realtor.

You glance around the property a bit more. There’s a small pond in the dip of one of the smaller hills, fuzzy with moss and some small fish you can see snapping at the surface of the water. Off to the right of it, there are similarly moss covered stone benches, small and antique. Perfect to sit there and watch the sun set behind the house. And towards the left, a small gondola with arranged stained glass stepping stones.

“Charming, huh?” Gojo says over his shoulder at you, and you realize he’s caught you staring at everything in awe.

Gojo makes it to the veranda after lengthy strides across the broad concrete steps that lead to the most stunning hardwood door you’ve ever seen in your life. He turns around to glance at you when he realizes you’re still stuck at the bottom of the steps, digging your heels into the ground underneath you.

“It’s–” you start, looking across the landscape while melancholy washes over you, “...I just can’t believe that someone gets to live here someday.”

He pushes his hands inside of his pant pockets, silent for a few moments. “Is everything alright?”

You look up at him, the question threatening to make the rawness in your throat burn even more. “Yes, I just–” you scoff at yourself a little before turning back to face the little pond, now further in the distance, “I just realized that I’ll probably never be able to afford a house in my life, so I’ll never really know what it’s like to have a realtor show me around a home I could potentially one day call my own. It’s something that sounds so surreal to me.”

There’s a silence that lasts for three seconds, and when you look up at him, his gaze is soft.

“Alright,” he says, jerking his head towards the direction of the door with his hands still lax in his pockets, “let’s take you on a tour of this one, then.”

You blink up at him, heart beating a little faster. “O-...Okay.” And you hop up the stairs to meet him at the top. The fragrance of wild roses and lavender brush past your senses as the leaves sway with the breeze.

The moment you enter inside, you’re greeted by a faint trace of vanilla lingering in the air. The foyer is warm, inviting, with soft oak floors that creak ever so slightly with each step you two take forward into it, proving the life that it’s lived. To your left, there’s a spacious living room that glows with the golden light of the early evening sun that has started to gently make its descent from high up in the sky. Filtering through sheer curtains, touching your skin from afar, you glance down at your arm and the glow of heaven that’s been imprinted on it.

Gojo walks further into the living room, pulling the curtains back a bit and then opens one of the windows by pushing up on it. A small draft reaches you as you walk towards him. Off to the right in a corner is a fireplace, the mantle adorned with wilting candles and creased old books.

“Is it wood-burning?” you ask Gojo.

He nods his head. “Can easily convert it to gas if that’s something you’d like better.”

There’s a sense of joy in your chest at the way he continues to play along, pretending as if your opinion truly matters–as if, just for now, you were a serious contender to make this place your home.

“No,” you say, tracing a finger over the dark wood of the mantle, collecting withered dust. “I like it better like this.”

As he leads you into the kitchen, set your eyes on the marble countertops that meet soft sage cabinetry, the window behind the sink overlooking the rolling landscape of the backyard. You stand on your tiptoes to get a better view of what’s down the hill, and you see a small trickling creek that flows down the valley. Your gaze diverts towards the countertops and you see an elegant collection of mismatched china.

Spinning on your heel, you find Gojo leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you inspect every inch. “When were these appliances last updated?” you ask, running your hand across the oven handle.

“About fourteen years ago.”

“Ah, they’re a little old.”

He smiles at you. “So the tolerance for vintage charm ends with kitchen appliances?”

“Charm is cute,” you say, a little cheekily as you move on without him towards the staircase, “but not when the house burns down because of an oven gas leak.”

He hums from behind you as he follows you, and you can hear the smile on his face through the sound alone. “You’re looking out for the right things.”

The staircase, with its dark wood railing and white balusters, curves gently upwards into the second floor. Just like your own home, the third and first steps creak beneath your feet. You always loved the sound, although you know most people attempt to fix such things in a house. For you, it felt like each step had a story, and some were very vocal about never being forgotten.

The upstairs hallway is lined with more windows, filling the space with the same golden glow that now dances across the soft, tapering wallpaper that has begun to peel around the edges slightly. Your feet wander on their own with a sense of grace that seems to have taken hold of you.

The first bedroom you stumble across is small, but still enchanting. The bay window has a small reading nook with cushions piled up on the surface, inviting the image of lazy afternoons spent lost in books as the world beyond the glass panes flutters in the wind. The queen-sized bed in the center of the room is minimally dressed and faces an oak dresser that was leaning slightly away from the wall in a crooked fashion.

The room across from the first bedroom appears to be a study. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are bolted to the walls and a vintage writing desk sits by another window where the changing light of day turns the room into a living painting. Your mother crosses your mind. And how much she would’ve loved this window. You could picture her setting up her easel and canvas here, painting away with strokes that could threaten even the beauty of the view outside the window. You think about how much joy that would’ve brought to her.

In that same trance, you walk down the hall to the end with Gojo following behind you. You push through the set of double doors that lead into the master bedroom. It was spacious, yet intimate, with vaulted ceilings and a four-poster bed draped in airy linen curtains. Sitting across from it is another fireplace surrounded by two picturesque little chairs. One with a square backrest colored a dark burgundy, and the other with an oval backrest colored a pinkish opal. Between the two was a small table that had a stack of a few books.

The attached en-suite bathroom appears timeless, with a clawfoot tub resting beneath a wide, arched window that offers the view of the rolling hills in their entire glory. The marble vanity has vintage brass fixtures that reflect the soft glow of the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, one that takes the shape of the roof of the house.

You hear tapping on the window to your right, and when you glance over there, you see a tree branch bothering the surface due to the wind.

Your eyes also catch the faint bordering corner of wood beyond the frame of the window.

With wide eyes, you turn to Gojo and point in that general direction. “Is that…?”

“The balcony,” he says, then nods, “it’s connected to this room.”

He leads you out onto the wooden platform, the floorboards warm under your feet from the early evening sun. It stretches out about ten feet and wraps around the entire back end of the house, with easily the most breathtaking vantage point you’ve seen thus far. An entire view of the creek that disappears into the valley, the image of dancing wildflowers on distant rolling hills, the sun that continues to glow in the distance, and a gentle breeze with the faintest hint of salt, as though from a distant ocean. It felt like its own quiet little world. A place where time slows, and you can just be as you are. It was difficult to put into words, but you had never felt more at peace in your entire life.

Gojo leans over the sturdy yet worn railing as he glances down at the grass near the foundation of the house. You come up beside him, loosely curling your hands into a grip around the rusted metal.

You see him turn his face to you in your periphery, but you continue to stay staring ahead.

“So…what do you think? Can you picture yourself living here?” he asks you as a soft brush of breeze passes by.

“Well–” you start, but then a sobering thought flashes through you, “wait, Satoru, what happened to your clients?”

“Oh, yeah,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket to glance at it, “they texted me about ten minutes ago that they weren’t going to make it.”

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve left.”

“Well, you seemed like you were in some sort of trance while you were looking around. I was scared to interrupt it.”

You breathe in deep and then let out a slow sigh, your shoulders dropping slightly. “Mhm. The house is beautiful. And, yes, I could picture myself living here.”

More than just that. It was like a dream house. The one that a person would see in fleeting memories right before they pass, as it holds all of their most beloved ones. That ethereal, it was.

He hums softly. You look over at him and find him blinking slowly. The wind brushes through his hair, ruffling it up gently, to where you could see the blueness in his eyes a little more clearly. That, too, was ethereal.

“Satoru,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He continues to stare at the horizon. “Sure.”

“Where did you live before you moved here?”

“New york city,” he easily tells you.

But the answer surprises you. “R-Really?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Really long.”

“Mm. You don’t seem like it.”

“Like what? An asshole from the city?”

“Mhm. Just a regular asshole.”

He laughs. You feel the rumble of it from the way your shoulder was pressed up against his arm.

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask him. But the question was not one that you had thought to say. Rather, it felt as though it was placed on your tongue by someone else.

You feel his shoulders rise slightly with the deep breath he draws in as he leans over the railing a bit more. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I still own a place there in downtown Manhattan,” he says, “but I don’t really plan on moving back there ever. So I was thinking of selling it and getting something out here instead.”

“Oh?” you say, “like what? Where?”

“This,” he says, pointing to the wooden panels you two were standing on, “this house.”

You blink, caught between surprise and something deeper. “This house?” you echo, your voice quiet.

He nods, his fingers tapping lightly against the railing. “Yeah. Although, I still show it to people if they’re interested. It’s been on the market for over three years though.”

You let your gaze drift over the balcony, the way the light softens against the weathered wood, and suddenly, the house doesn’t feel the same. Like it carries more weight somehow. Like it feels more real, more alive. And maybe that’s what makes a house a home–the intent to belong in it.

"You see that greenery over there?" he asks, his arm stretching out as he highlights an area in the distance with his hand, "aaaaall the way down there?" Now pointing at the creak.

"Mm," you squint, "uh-huh!"

"Believe it or not, those are all avocado trees."

Your eyes widen and then you look at him. "No way."

He smiles. "Yeahhh. Three-point-four acres of 'em. And they're all a part of this lot."

Your smile matches his equally as nerdy one. "Wow I bet you loooove that.

"I do," he grins, and then gratuitously sights, "all I can eat guacamole 'til the day I die."

You snort.

"Yeah, anyways, that's why no one wants to buy this house," he says, "guess how much it costs to water them per month.”

"Mm, per month?" you look up to the golden sky, "a few thousand?"

"Try a hundred-and-fifty thousand."

"What–...I beg your finest fucking PARDON?!?!"

He laughs. "Yeah that's usually the reaction I get when I end a tour of this house on that note."

“That’s so insane…what’s the point of buying the house, then?”

"Avocados are hard to grow, they can be finicky, but all the land on this lot is extremely fertile," he says, "and if you can import the produce, it actually ends up being pretty lucrative." He points across to the dip in the hill behind the creak. "You could turn that place over there into some kind of ranch, too. Or a wedding venue, and rent it out. I don't know. The property has a lot of investment value. But the house itself is a bit dated. Would need some work."

"Like a fixer-upper on HGTV,” you offer for the conversation.

"Yeahhh. Something like that."

"Mm," you hum.

"Y’know, I was on HGTV once."

"What?! There's no way."

"Yup. House hunters."

"Bullshit. I would've known. I have seen every single episode since I graduated college."

"Oh, well, this was back when they still had Design Star on. I was like twenty-four or something. Fresh new realtor."

"Oh right. I was still in college then. I forgot that you're ancient."

He gives you an irritated side eye.

"So...will you be fixing up this house?" you ask him. His hobby of woodworking starts to make a little bit more sense.

"Maybe. I don't know if I'm too young to be thinking about retirement yet...but that's kind of what I was thinking of turning it into. A dream retirement home."

"You're definitely not young. Don't worry about that."

He gives you another irritated side eye.

"What happens to your other house, then?" you say. "The one next door."

“Hmm," he muses, "I'll probably stay there another year or so and then rent it out eventually."

"You don't want to settle down there? Raise your kids there?" you blurt out. You immediately wince a little at the forward question, but wasn't that something people thought about when thinking of a house? Do they not imagine filling it with their own hopes and dreams? Do they not picture their spouse sitting on the porch outside, swinging with the wind? Do they not picture their children's laughter down the hallway?

A shiver runs down your spine. You glance over at Gojo, who continues to stare forward towards the horizon, His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he's deep in thought staring out into the landscape as the golden sun begins to turn purple in the sky, casting a dimming glow on his face.

And you wonder. You briefly wonder what a home must mean to him, after having to witness his parents perish in the flames of the one that housed his childhood.

"It's a nice house," he finally responds to you, "but a part of me wants to live faaaaar away from everyone and everything someday." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, like he can already tell how contradictory you find that sentiment to be. Mr Grew Up In New York City wants to live in a quaint little cape-cod-esque agriculture farmland property miles away from major civilization? what was it about the city that changed him so much? “Just be at peace, you know. Plant a million more avocado trees out here in the middle of nowhere, and not have to worry about their devilish spawns dropping all over my cute neighbor's herb garden.”

You flutter your eyelids, the comment catching you off guard, before your entire posture softens. "Satoru...it's ok. I'll move my herb garden."

"Oh, you thought I meant you? I was talking about seventy-four year old Barbara to my right."

You sulk your shoulders and roll your eyes, turning away from him to face forward towards the landscape again.

He laughs. "I'm just teasing."

You glance over at him again, and there's that same distant stare he casts over the greenery in the distance.

"I can't believe your dream in life is to become a farmer," you say.

"Ehhh. It's honest work." he exhales slowly. The sun is now sitting on the hilltop. "It's just a dream, anyways. Just a dream. I'm still allowed to have those, right?" It was asked with genuine curiosity.

"Why are you asking me for permission?"

His eyes hood ever so slightly, a dip in his expression you can't quite discern. but it's evident in the way his gaze off across the horizon dampens. "Hm. I don't know."

You shiver a little as the evening wind brushes past, and Gojo catches sight of the movement. you mentally curse yourself, because you know that you've just cut this moment short.

"It's cold," he says, "let's get inside."

You try to think of ways to stay here. Ways to lengthen this moment. Ask him for his jacket and make some teasing comment about how he's not a gentleman. Or lie and say that you're not cold at all, that you run warm when you know all your life you've always had cold hands and feet. Or just tell him that you don't want this moment to end. Tell him you want to see the sun through its sunset. Tell him how you never want to step foot off of this house ever again.

"Okay," you whisper.

And he leads you back inside, down the stairs, and as you stand out on the veranda, at the grassy hills towards his car, you implant this memory in your head, this feeling of standing on this home and dreaming as if it were yours. Before all it becomes is exactly that,

Only a dream.

[end of ch.7, ‘if u wanna get groceries’]

songs of the chapter: groceries by mallrat margaret by lana del rey

a/n. thanks so much for reading! this was a fun chapter to write, especially the house sequence. i think it’s mentioned in the chapter somewhere, but yeah…i just think there’s something so romantic and melancholic about a home :’’) i guess that’s a recurring theme in ihm, with reader’s childhood home holding the memories that her mother has lost of her, and then ihm gojo losing his parents to a destructive house fire, and also him being a realtor, and also reader planning to sell her house, and then the dream house in this chapter. it’s been fun breathing a bit of life into these different settings themselves. ah i also decided i want to include little “song(s) of the chapter” to the end of these! just as something kinda fun to do. i’d say these are songs that inspired me to write certain scenes within the chapter, or songs that i listened to a lot while writing the chapter, or songs i could picture playing during the ending credits if this were a tv show xd. but yeahhh!! also just a way to share music bc i love music lol. big thank you to my beta readers mirl, leni, and ayelin for helping me out w parts of this chapter n giving me motivation to write it <33 i appreciate you guys sososo much!! i really attribute a lot of my writing motivation towards them, as i’ve been really busy but been able to write these lengthy chapters bc of their support. i did kinda rush parts of this chapter just because i wanted to get it out on the weekend, so i apologize if there are errors or mistakes of if anything’s a little confusing or sudden. tbh i did want to spend a tiny bit more time on it but, that’s ok. fuck it we ball also! i just wanted to say a quick thank you to all of my readers and those that have stuck around for so long with me or maybe newer readers who have interacted or become invested w my works recently… i know that i am so slow w updates and sometimes inconsistent w it as well, life just gets so crazy for me and it’s a struggle to find proper time to sit down and write, and i wish soooo badly to put out chapters faster, but yea easier said than done haha. but all of my readers who continue to engage with lil ol’ me even despite all of that really means a lot to me, more than i can say :”) i still face self doubts so often w my writing, i’m halfway convinced i’ll never be satisfied w my craft, but the little interactions i have w everyone really make my day and push me forward to write even when it’s hard and i realized i haven’t really said a proper thank u to u guys for that as of late. plus i know jjk manga has ended and also i took a hiatus n also tumblr has lowkey been fuckin me over on the algorithm too lol etc etc i definitely have noticed i’ve lost some readers n engagement along the way, which i understand is natural n just a part of being a long fic author however daunting that may be, but i just really wanted to say a thank you to those who continue to be here irrespective of all of that. i appreciate everyone who sees value in my works enough to read them, follow up w them, interact w them, share them, like them etc. especially w ihm bc sometimes i feel so bad for the slow burn and the yap haha i’m sure some of you may be privy to the fact by now that this story will be very long and also so much more than just the romance. but…i find confidence from you all to follow my vision and i’m really grateful for that. very likely that the next chapter is in ihm gojo’s pov :0 very exciting and makes me a lil nervous. for some reason i find his pov somewhat intimidating to write for loool. but hopefully i’ll pull it off.

much love!! there will be a delay in getting this chapter up on ao3 and also adding it to the masterlist etc bc i'll be away from keyboard when this posts from my queue, but everything should be updated by the time i'm back home tonight :) see you all in the next one <3 -ellie

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minorlyatfault · 3 days ago

Text

jason todd didn't like feeling weak. not physically, not emotionally, not in any way. he was red hood, the second robin, the guy who crawled his way out of the grave, the guy who made criminals run the second they saw him. he wasn't fragile.

at least, that's what he told himself.

but you knew better.

you saw the way his hands shook sometimes, how he clenched his jaw so tight it looked like it hurt. how he acted like he was fine, always fine, even when he was bleeding right in front of you.

like tonight.

he got hit▰bullet to the side, not deep enough to be life threatening, but deep enough that he couldn't just ignore it. he tried to, though.

"i don’t need help," he muttered, struggling to take off his jacket without wincing.

"jason, you’re literally bleeding on my floor."

"i’ve had worse."

"that’s not the point." you crossed your arms. "sit down. let me fix it."

he sighed like you were asking him to do something absurd, but he sat. that alone told you everything.

you came back, first aid kit in hand & went to work on the wound while he sat there, way too tense.

“you don't have to do this," he muttered.

"i know."

his jaw tightened, but he didn't move away. you stitched him up carefully, your fingers brushing against his skin, & he hardly moved.

"you're not a burden, you know," you said after a minute.

he scoffed. "never said i was."

"you don't have to. i see it every time you push me away." you paused, looking up at him. "you don't have to be strong all the time, jason."

his eyes flickered. something in him hesitated, but he didn't let it break through.

"i hate this," he muttered.

"hate what?"

"feeling like this." he motioned at himself, at the bandages, at you sitting next to him. "weak."

you frowned. "jason, you're not weak."

"doesn't feel like it."

your chest felt tight. you reached for his hand, & he let you, just like he always did. but this time, it's different. that it's not just jason who you're holding, but the red hood as well.

"being strong doesn't mean doing everything alone," you said quietly. "sometimes it means letting people help."

he swallowed, his fingers twitching around yours. you’d held hands before, curled up on the couch, laced fingers absentmindedly.

but this was different. this was him holding on like he needed to.

& then, barely above a whisper, he said, "i don’t wanna do this alone."

you squeezed his hand. "you don’t have to."

he let out a shaky breath, nodded, & for the first time, he didn't just let you help▰he let himself believe he needed it. he let himself accept the fact that he indeed, needs it.

you finally got him into bed, though he agrued about not being tired. but the second his head hit the pillow, you could tell▰he was exhausted.

yet, he didn't sleep.

he just laid there, staring at the ceiling, breathing too controlled, too careful.

"you're thinking too much," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

he huffed. "i don't think that's possible."

you smiled. "wanna bet?"

he rolled onto his side, looking at you, with an unreadable expression. "what if i wake up in a panic again?"

"then i'll be here."

his brows furrowed. "you shouldn't have to deal with that."

"jason." you stroked your thumb over his cheek, soft(is what you thought when your hand came in contact with his soft cheek, & is what jason thought when his cheek came in contact with your soft hand.)

"loving you doesn't mean only staying for the easy parts. i want to be here. always."

he breathed slowly, like he was struggling to let himself believe you. maybe it would take time. but right now, he was here, letting you hold him, & that was enough.

he brought you closer still, his hand lying flat upon your waist, fingers just tight enough on the shirt to cling. "you're too good for me," he murmured against your skin.

"& you're an idiot," you whisper back.

a soft laugh rolled from him & lay warm across your collarbone. he drew a breath at last, uncoiling finally, his fingers tracing slow patterns on your back.

"thanks," he mutters after a while.

"for what?"

"for this. for staying."

you pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him a little tighter. "like i said: always."

& this time, he let himself believe it.

#﹙vi's diary. ﹚#jason todd x reader #jason todd #dcu #dc x reader #red hood x reader #red hood #dc comics

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woozinhos · 1 day ago

Note

hii I love ur works smmm!!! can I request mingyu dad au and their child asking for another sibling??

Notes: oh my god she’s back with another fic enjoy guys I know it’s not the best but I’m slowly easing back into it <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You and Mingyu were sitting together on the couch, enjoying a quiet evening at home when your child walked into the room, looking up at you with an innocent expression on their face.

"Mommy, Daddy?" they asked, his voice soft. Mingyu looked down at them, a smile on his face. "What is it, sweetheart?"

He looked between the two of you before speaking again. "Can I ask you guys a question?" Mingyu chuckled, ruffling the child's hair affectionately. "Of course you can, buddy. What's on your mind?" He hesitated for a moment, looking down at the floor before looking back up at you and Mingyu. "Why don't I have any brothers or sisters?" You and Mingyu exchanged a look, surprised by the question. Mingyu cleared his throat, unsure of how to answer.

"Well, sweetheart," he began, "having a baby is a big responsibility. It takes a lot of time and effort to take care of a baby, and it's not always easy." He nodded, looking up at you with wide eyes. "But I'm a good kid, right? And I would be a good brother, wouldn't I?" Mingyu smiled, touched by his words. "Of course you would, buddy. You're the best kid we could ever ask for. But having a baby is more than just being a good kid. It's about being able to share love and attention with another person." You and Mingyu looked at each other again, a silent conversation passing between you. His request was unexpected, but his words made sense.

"We'll think about it, okay?" you said to him, ruffling their hair like Mingyu had done earlier. "But it's not something we can just decide on a whim. It's a big decision that needs to be thought through carefully." He nodded again, accepting your answer. "Okay," he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," you and Mingyu chorused, watching as he left the room. Once he was gone, you turned to Mingyu, a thoughtful expression on your face. "Do you think we should actually consider it?" you asked him. Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, it's definitely something we need to think about. But we already have so much going on with our work and taking care of our child. Another baby would mean even more responsibility."

You nodded, understanding his concerns. "I know what you mean. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a little guilty.He seems so excited about the idea of having a sibling. Maybe we've been holding off on having more kids for too long." Mingyu looked at you, his expression serious but smirking at the same time. "You're right. We've been so focused on our careers and our own lives that we've kind of neglected the idea of having more kids. Maybe it's time we started thinking about it seriously." You raised an eyebrow at Mingyu's smirk. "What are you thinking?" you asked him, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Mingyu leaned in closer to you, his smirk widening. "I'm thinking that maybe we could have some fun trying to make that decision," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his words sent a jolt of excitement through you. "Oh, really?" you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "And how do you propose we do that?" Mingyu's smirk turned into a mischievous grin as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Well, we could start by practicing some...unprotected fun," he whispered, his hand sliding up your thigh.

You let out a soft gasp as his hand continued to move higher, your body already responding to his touch. "Mingyu, we're supposed to be thinking about having another baby, not making one right now," you protested weakly. Mingyu chuckled as he continued to kiss your neck, his lips moving slowly and sensually along your skin. "I know, I know," he murmured between kisses. "But can you blame me for wanting you so badly right now?" You shook your head, giving in to the pleasure that his kisses were causing. "No, I suppose I can't," you admitted, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck.

Mingyu lifted you up into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with ease. He kicked the door shut behind him and gently placed you on the bed, his eyes dark with desire. As you lay on the bed, Mingyu climbed on top of you, his body pressing against yours. He began to kiss you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed over your body. You responded to his kisses with equal fervor, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer. The heat between you was building quickly, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the moment.

Mingyu's hands were impatient as he tore at your clothes, his own shirt quickly joining the pile on the floor. His body was taut and muscular, and you couldn't help but run your hands over his chest and abs. He paused for a moment, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want you so badly." You could feel the heat rising between your legs as his words sent a thrill through you. "I want you too," you murmured, reaching up to pull him down for another kiss.

As he pulled his boxers down, you couldn't help but stare at his impressive size. You felt a wave of anticipation wash over you, your body already eager for what was to come. Mingyu saw the look in your eyes and grinned, knowing exactly what you were thinking. "Someone's eager," he teased, his hands moving down to your hips. "I love it when you look at me like that." You let out a soft moan as he positioned himself, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You could feel his hardness against your entrance, and you couldn't wait for him to enter you.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice a low growl in your ear. You nodded, unable to form words, and he slowly began to push himself inside of you. As he filled you, you gasped and clutched at his back, your nails digging into his skin. The sensation was intense, but it felt so good. You could feel yourself adjusting to his size, your body welcoming him in.

Once he was fully inside of you, he paused for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling. "You feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and perfect." You let out a soft moan in response, your hips bucking up against him involuntarily. "Move," you urged him, your voice barely above a whisper. He began to move, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you found yourself arching your back, pushing against him. As he moved faster, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your moans grew louder, and you clutched at him desperately, needing to hold onto something as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you.

"Shhh, be quiet," he whispered, his voice low and urgent. "We don't want to wake up our boy." He continued to move inside of you, his pace steady but intense. He knew how close you were, and he wanted to draw it out for as long as possible. You bit your lip, trying to stifle your moans as he continued to drive you towards the edge. You could feel the heat building inside of you, and you knew that you were about to explode. Suddenly, you felt yourself tipping over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure as you climaxed. You clutched at him tightly, your fingers digging into his skin as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

"I'm gonna cum," he groaned, his voice strained. "I want you to take it, all of it."

He continued to thrust, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. "You're gonna look so beautiful pregnant," he panted. "My baby inside of you..." He suddenly let out a loud moan, his body shuddering as he released himself inside of you. You could feel the warmth spreading through you, and you knew that he was true to his word.

As he finished, he collapsed on top of you, panting heavily. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both tried to catch your breath. "That was amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with satisfaction. You nodded, still unable to speak. Your body was tingling all over, and you felt like you were floating on air. You could feel his seed still inside of you, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"Our son's got great ideas," he said, his lips brushing against your hair. "We should thank him later."

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inkedinshadows · 1 day ago

Note

For the requests: "I would certainly take all night" with Eris, please. I would be forever indebted to you. Can be smut or not, write it however you want! :)

Held in Firelight

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

A/N: Hi! No need to be indebted, don't worry! I just hope you'll like this bc I really liked this idea but I wrote it after six hours of class so it might not be my best work. I also don't know how to label it because it's a bit fluffy with a tiny sprinkle of angst and allusions to smutty bits? Idk idk I really like it tho

Warnings: arranged marriage, cheating (but the parties involved are aware so idk)

Word count: 1k

“I think he has a new lover.”

Your words cut through the comfortable silence that had settled over the sitting room. Eris raised a brow, but you continued to stir the wine in your glass, your eyes fixed on the swirling red liquid.

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling embers in the fireplace. Eventually, he asked, “What makes you think that?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “He spent every night out this week. He doesn't do that if he's just sleeping around. He still comes home.”

Eris hummed, as if contemplating your answer.

These were your favorite moments—when Eris didn’t have court duties to attend to and could spend hours talking and drinking with you. It was your favorite way to ease the stress and tension of the life you had been forced into.

“He was out even two nights ago?”

You looked up at him. The firelight flickered on the side of his face, turning his hair into molten copper. You felt a sudden urge to reach across the couch and run your fingers through it.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“It was your birthday,” he stated simply.

“So?”

He looked startled. “You really don’t care that he forgot?”

You sighed, setting your glass down. “Eris, he hasn't remembered my birthday in years.”

He didn’t reply, but his jaw clenched. You couldn’t tell if the flames in his eyes were just a reflection of the fire or if it was that simmering power of his.

With another sigh, you pressed on. “Let’s say he remembers,” you said. “Then what? You really believe he would spend the whole night with me, taking his sweet time to make me feel cherished, at least on my birthday?” You shook your head, the mere thought making you scoff. “No, I prefer it this way. He doesn't care about me, I don't care about him, and there's no point in pretending we do.”

Eris remained silent, his gaze fixed on the fireplace, his fingers clutching the stem of his glass so tightly you thought it might break. You knew he cared about you, that he hated your situation as much as you did, but even he couldn’t change it. Maybe once he became High Lord he’d banish arranged marriages and spare others from this fate, but it was too late for you.

Picking up your glass again, you tucked your legs beneath you and settled back against the pillows. You took a sip of wine, hoping that its rich taste might offer an excuse to change the topic, but you came up empty. You’d already commented on the flavor when he opened the bottle.

“I would certainly take all night.”

His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful, but when you turned to look at him, he was still facing away from you.

“What?” you blurted out. Surely, you had heard that wrong.

Finally, his eyes met yours, determined and unflinching. “I would take all night with you,” he repeated, “I would cherish you. And not just on your birthday.”

Your breath hitched. There had been a few lingering touches, a brush of fingers, words whispered after one too many glasses of wine. But never like this—so plain and blatant, so unguarded.

“Don't say that,” you murmured.

“Why not?” His eyes bore into you, pinning you in place. There was no escape—not that you wanted one. “We both want it.”

He was right. There was no arguing with that. Yet you still shook your head. “Eris, we can't.”

He moved closer. You didn’t resist when he took your glass and set it on the small table alongside his. An empty bottle stood next to an unopened one.

“Why not?” he asked again, his voice gentler now. “Just because you’re married? How many other females has he been with?”

Countless.

Maybe Eris was right about that too. Maybe you didn’t owe loyalty to a husband you had never wanted—a husband who had never been loyal to you. If he could have all the females he wanted, then maybe you could have the one male you wanted. The one person who always understood you, who never judged or mistreated you.

“When was the last time someone made you feel cherished?” Eris’s hand covered yours, his slender fingers intertwining with your own, squeezing once. “Made you feel good?”

You had never thought about your marriage in those terms. You had never wanted that union in the first place, so you had clung to the small things. Time away from your husband was good. You hadn’t shared a bed in a long time, and your conversations were awkward and stiff enough that the thought of intimacy hadn't crossed your mind in years. And you’d told yourself that was good enough.

But deep down, it had never really felt good.

Eris was still looking at you, his expression soft and understanding. As if he could see your every thought.

You looked away, unable to stomach it. “I don't know,” you finally whispered.

“Let me be that person.” He reached out, gently tilting your chin. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your eyes met again, and your resolve wavered. Then he brushed his thumb over your lips and spoke in a barely audible whisper.

“Let me love you.”

That word.

Love.

Your husband had never uttered it to you, nor had you to him. But hearing it from Eris… you knew he didn't mean just now—a stolen moment to carry in your heart. And that realization was the final push you needed.

You didn't know who moved first. One moment you were staring into each other's eyes. The next, your lips met.

He tasted like a wish come true after years of waiting.

You were done longing and yearning in secret, done pretending you didn't know what you truly wanted.

And as Eris loved you in front of the fireplace, you finally felt good. You felt cherished. And he took all night to make sure of it.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra fic #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #one shot #fluff #fanfiction #drabble #requested

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caseuoiseau · 9 hours ago

Text

Please allow me to jump in with a 4th point, because I learned a lot of different fiber arts and craft stuff as a kid, and when you're a kid you tend not to care as much about your lumpy first project because every first thing you've ever done to date has been lumpy, and you tend to lack a general idea of what failure is and focus on the "Yey-I-did-it!"

But the first craft I tried as an adult was spinning, which had the triple threat horrors of being:

a) ...thoroughly unlike any other fiber craft I had ever done, despite being integral to each one (sewing, knitting, crochet--all require fiber to be spun before anything else can be done).

b) ...the first skill I had to pay my own hard-earned, fresh-out-of-college pennies to learn, and

c) ...another one of those things like playing guitar where everyone else before me had decided that the difficult part to be managed by your dominant hand was actually the complete opposite of what I thought.

So my one or two private lessons didn't amount to anything remotely usable, until a few years later when some big-name blogger started posting her spinning. And I got pissed off because I took one look at it and I thought to myself "That's barely better than mine was, and she's getting all these accolades from her followers??? I bet I could spin yarn like that with my shitty wooden-toy-wheel spindle." And man oh man didni sit down and spin.

Now, I didn't start writing this story to tell you that Spite Will Fuel You To Perfection, so don't get ahead of me. Because my fiber had been compacted over the years and I was over-twisting it and I didn't technically understand that "single ply" doesn't actually work with handspun, and I wound up making some pretty wretched curly rope. Totally unusable. But it was the age of LJ, and I nevertheless showed my craft friends my awful attempt so they could have a good laugh at it, and that's where I got the actual best advice I've received as an adult learning a craft.

My friends who spin simply told me to save it. Hold on to that yarn-that's-barely-yarn, put it in a drawer somewhere and just...check in on it from time to time. Because every time you spin, you get a little bit better at it, and it really, really helps soothe your mind to take a look at that first project when you think you haven't improved.

And my next yarn--arguably a bulky two-ply from some high-micron Shetland, still iloverspun and the texture of rope, but definitely more yarnlike. The next was a very uneven two-ply made by plying merino pencil roving back on itself. Overspun in places, but much more reasonable as handspun--if I'd told someone it was supposed to look like that with a sufficiently confident tone, they would have bought it. That was the first handspum that actually became something:

A little tea cozy that I had to alter pretty spectacularly, since I had only spun about 90 yards out of the 50g I had.

And so it goes, each project getting a little bit better than the last, and noticeably better than the first. I either threw out that yarn or I have it packed away in the attic somewhere, but I used to bring that out at the end of my first night of the drop spindle basics class I used to teach. This is what I made first. These are the next three skeins I made. And here's my most recent.

It's a hell of a way to get people to think more fondly about the kitchen twine they think they've been fighting with for the last two hours.

So, to end with the advice I used to give my first-time knitting class: this isn't like being at work. You aren't expected to be an expert in something you learned 5 minutes ago. You have my permission to suck at this.

I hope all new fiber artists know that the "slightly misshapen" object they made that they're stressed about not looking good:

1. Happens to every fiber artist always, you're too zoomed in to its every detail because you're the one who made it and most people would think it looks normal, or at least much less misshapen than you do, stand 20ft away from it and look at it and then see how you feel (true about all art tbh)

2. Gets better and more uniform each time you do anything

and the *very most important*:

3. Can be made Significantly Less Misshapen by just grabbing the fabric and stretching it in a few directions

I keep helping new fiber artists who are like "but my thing looks so bad :(((" by like, taking their object and stretching it sideways and horizontal, and handing it back, and they're like "????? Magic?????" bc it looks perfect.

Trust the process. Trust the stretchy process

#crafts #spinning #i really had a hell of a team of spinning hyping me up when i first started learning #hugs and kisses wherever you all are #and also snarky comments because honestly fuck all this sincerity it atkes up sooooo mcuh energyyyyyy

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sunflower1experiment · 3 days ago

Text

Children (Risk's Prequel 2.0)

pt1, pt2

Harley is so full of himself, sometimes dating him was like dipping your hand in a rose bush. Like him they were beautiful. charming, hell you even considered the relationship with him to be a thorn bush without the roses. But it was the day something happened in the labs, you went in and noticed the toys were crying? "What happened?"

You march by and comfort them, "What is wrong with them!?" The other scientist who fails to answer at first, backs away but then she feels you lean in. "What happened? Answer."

"You really don't know? Of course not, not when you're busy playing work wife for Sawyer." You glance at Leith, eyes filling with animosity.

"Mind running that by me? What is wrong with my children?"

"Ah so you claim them. Well, let me break it down, your children, they are not just toys. You of all people should have noticed the vast majority of the new high rise of emotions and tension between them and us." What is he spouting about!? You look at Stelle with a curious eyebrow quirk, she avoids your gaze and once more you return to Leith's cold side glance.

"Sawyer didn't....inform me..."

"Of course not, why would he want to break his favorite sentimental experiment's heart." It goes quiet.

The toys who coward behind you, look up as he leaves, as everyone leaves. You kneel down to study them, then your eyes begin to well up. "......Prototype was serious."

The little ones start to hug your feeble form, while you realize how terrible and naive you are the sounds of shoes fill your ears. "You, you're different..." A pink hand holds your shoulder, a long arm follows after and hugs you.

"No need to cry, Mommy's here." You look at this so-called Mommy, and realize why you recognize this voice, it couldn't be, not her.

"Marie Payne?" She backs up with a slight chuckle and the little toys cling to your hand sadly while Mommy stands on the ground, "So you know, or you did know. What makes you think you're different from them?"

"I'm not, I failed...I-"

"Then stop wallowing and do something!" Mommy's hand punches the ground, this was obviously Marie talking. You firmly nod but then hug the toys again, Banzo bunny, the mini huggys, Daisy, Cat-Bee, so many of these little ones.

When you leave the toys behind you take one more glance at them, Mommy watches with a somber stare, Harley took you for a fool didn't he? Or did he simply know how senstive you were.

You couldn't let these children starve, going back home, it meant missing dinner, breakfast, sure but they had to eat. Risking your job would be worth it regardless, Leith calling you an experiment was one thing but to be embarrassed by everyone? Over his dead body, whenever you returned to work with food, you'd just make a simple curt excuse, then place the boxes and containers down.

"What is this?" Mommy grabs the food, "This will feed you all, starvation leads to difficult actions. Now come on. We have to take care of the kids."

She was in shock, for you to get back up after a day, why weren't the adults who hurt her like you? Even if you played a role, the willingness to do better still prevails. Maybe, she looks at your lab coat while you feed the children fruits, "Maybe there are some good people."

It was a lot to handle, a bit overwhelming even but you didn't pull any punches, but when you met with Harley, you both were quiet. He was sent to sleep on the couch that night. Three days would pass, and he’d check on you, “Dear?”

“What did you do with those orphans I cared for?” Harley kicks himself, cursing Leith, Stella and Eddie. Those three were told to keep you away, how can he adore you if you know too much!? Your face of revulsion or disappointment, so he gently holds your hand, “What do you mean?”

“Harley, do not play dumb with me, you’re smart and that's what I love about you…” Of course, of course he should be honest…. “I, well Elliot said we should do this for the betterment of humanity, I’m simply following orders.” The audacity, you were there when he argued with Elliot and everyone knew he had anger issues.

That was why you chose to avoid Harley but you both attracted each other, he was enamored by your genuine curiosity and adoration for simplistics, meanwhile he always had such charisma with that gentle tone, polite demeanor and fascination with anatomy. Were you in love with a facade perhaps? “So you knew, and didn’t tell me?”

He didn’t deny the knowledge but to deliberately not tell you, why? So Kissy, her stress, Mommy, Huggy, and who else? Harley hated it when you cried, he knew when the tears fell that you’d rebel or probably not speak to him. Relationships were complicated, but you both communicated and that was what made Harley stay, yet this time he knew you’d speak your mind. So he did what he could to try and change the perception of the situation.”You know I love you, I would never lie.”

His hand falls flat and he clutches it, your face wasn’t shedding tears but they looked disappointed. You then hold your stomach before hugging him sadly, “.....One more question, what did you do…with him?”

No, not him, not the boy…

“Him?” That was the answer you needed, “How can I trust you if you won't even tell me the truth?"

Why? Why were you so sentimental!? Did you not realize the risks? No, of course not.

NSFW, CW and TW // Minors DNI (signs of pregnancy, intimacy for NSFW)

CW// Signs of emotional abuse, self-loathing, child experimenting, and abuse

TW// Slight suicidal thoughts. (If you ever feel this way, be sure to call a trusted friend/adult or the hotline, know that you are not alone, you are deserving of care and to be heard.)

"I'm sorry, I’ll make sure to do better..." You nod into his hand while his gentle gaze remains on you, he may be a liar but Harley knew he adored you, you’re perfect. His perfect experiment, the only one who understands him, the only responsive and reactionary force he wished to invest in after he was tired from his other sets of experiments. He slept in the bed beside you, his larger hands resting along the arm while you remained in Harley’s arms, you were naive even when you held so much unconditional love for him. His lips travel to your neck, hands intertwined together in the moment where Harley’s lips touch, he notices how much your lips embellish his growing adoration.

When things start to heat up, Harley is there, his arms will wrap around your waist while you admire him, those worry wrinkles, his gentle hands with calluses, and most of all his gaze. Bed creaking, your soft sounds of breathing filling the doctor’s ears whenever those hands of his would roam your frame. At some point he had a moment of lingering, a longing, and it makes him wonder what would you have done if he told the truth? Would you love him enough to fix things, perhaps give him a chance. It was wishful thinking on his end, especially when it comes to his lover. In the intensity of this heated moment between you both, he could feel your hands resting along his face or they’d move to hold him close.

His deep chuckles and breaths, while you both share more kisses than one can count, Harley would let himself sink into your arms while he indulges in everything he loves. About you, it was strange to be in love with someone, someone of his intellect falling for you. A scientist with a bleeding heart and someone who was always willing to cater to him.

Harley would simply lose his mind at the idea of not being able to cradle your form, in life or death maybe but, he simply wouldn't allow it. Not when someone as perfect as you, could fit his standards of experimentation.

Every fiber of your being knew something was wrong, even after you began cuddling again, his grasp of you was firm with the iron grip. The way he’d kiss your forehead while you lean into his bare chest, “Hey....if Leith ever talks to you poorly, let me know…and, try not to worry about the toys. You should be focused on our work.” It goes silent, as you cuddle into him with a distant sad gaze, taking note of his slightly serious tone.

“Okay..”

You lied, now you were worrying for the children more than ever, feeding them and then the visit to Kissy’s room, carefully feeding her you note the long gaze. Kissy slowly moves forward and then her slender arm moves carefully; she begins hugging you close. “It's okay Kissy, I’m fine.”

How could someone of your caliber be so naive and caring? Especially when she and these children rely on you, the only adult to make this right?

"So, you and Harley?" Stella tries to make conversation, you merely nod in agreement, even if he had to sleep on the couch for a couple of days. Somehow it always worked out, because you'd still feed him, tend to him, you could be angry right now and he's already slipping through those cracks and crevices. But when he was angry, he was never one to aim it at you but when he did, you'd offer a hug, some time alone or just to talk.

The thing is this anger wasn't ever aiming to you: his partner, but instead your coworkers who could feign innocent all they want, yet none of them were any better than you or Harley. That is why you hated your sense of morals; how could you date a potential child abuser? What if, he hurts....

"Mz.?" You startle when Stella speaks again, gently moving the Candy-cat toy so he wouldn't get hurt. "I- need to check on the children."

She frowns, "Hey, um...If...Harley is..."

"What?"

"You'll come to me if he does anything right?" Stelle asks, you pause then turn to her while she gives a somber smile to assure any form of Desolate emotions that threaten to spill out.

"Stelle, you and Leith know what he is doing. You never told me; we are no better than him and you shouldn't try to be of help when these children are being treated this way. The least I can do is comfort, nurture and love them." As your back turns to the woman who watches your retesting form she looks down, gripping the Zinnia while Harley, as if to mock her walks by with a Tuberose flower.

He places it in your vase, then looks to Stella, "You should focus on work. I'm sure you both will find a way to rekindle whatever friendship you had."

Whatever Harley told you it was obvious he didn't realize how much it would hurt you at the end, Stella saw the signs clear as day. She was your friend, easy to socialize with, but you always took the time to listen to her dreams and desire to care for the children. As you place more food down for the little ones, Mommy finally speaks again.

"I saw you with Kissy, she's being moved...further down, and... there are more...down below."

"Down, below?" Mommy couldn't help but scowl at your naivety, she felt sorry for you. ".....That boy, Quinn?"

What about Quinn? She tells you softly while you listen, her hands grip your arms to keep you from running. Being outraged, it was quiet...

Down below, Quinn, Marie, how many children...

One last thing to do.

You step into the lab, where Prototype remains. "gOoD tO sEe-E you, mY dEAr.." His metallic hands carefully hold your soft fleshy ones.

But you merely look away, he senses the hesitation to speak and realizes how much you knew. "s0 thE dOcTeR t-TRu-TRULY! Truly did fail, you know a lot but how much?"

Enough to where you were sitting before his creation, "I...I am not any better than him. I asked him to stop hurting you, he was...."

"Angry?" The experiment says in his voice to which you wince and then nod slowly, "Yes but it wasn't enough, you and I both know that." Prototype lifts your chin up.

"oF cOurSe."

"I'm sorry, I cannot apologize enough, I so badly wanted to think that, not everyone is truly a monster, and these children deserve the best....as many have said: Children deserve parents, but parents do not deserve children or deserve to even be parents. But I was truly naive, Mommy knows this." As the Prototype listens, he also twitches.

Harley was coming, so he gently shushes you and then points. You stand, grabbing the files but before you leave. You speak one more time, "Please do not hurt the children, and don't let vengeance cloud your perception."

With that you leave with the door shutting behind you, Harley walks in and notices the files. At first, he wanted to start a long lecture about his experiments being disturbed but you hand him the files. "Sorry, I wanted to help you work..."

Harley smiles at you for a quick moment but then you both go your separate ways, until you stop. "Harley."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever considered the thought of children?"

He pauses at the question, thinking of the implications of you having his child...the thought occurred to him during your intimate nights together. But he truly didn't see the resolve, especially when there are children surrounding you every day. "No, not when we have the Playtime Co. You and I are truly different."

It goes quiet and you leave, but not after chuckling to his little banter. Of course, Harley Sawyer is so full of himself. Very apathetic, very....

Foolish.

Sometimes, life felt like grappling at a thread just to see you survive, the more food you'd distribute the more guilt you felt.

The last straw was probably when you asked him to go down below. ".....Of course, is there a reason?"

"Of course, I want to see my partner's work up close." Harley couldn't help but crack a smile, he holds your hand, like always as if trying to form some sort of emotional power balance. Then his lips connect to your head, "I'd be happy to."

.....

What have you done?

#harley sawyer x reader #harley sawyer #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #stella greyber #slight Stella greyber x reader #mommy long legs #kissy missy #yarnaby mention #harley sawyer poppy playtime

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aettuddae · 1 day ago

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business matter — chapter 141.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

[warning: smut 🧍]

serim and jimin got into the car, the latter slamming the door and with an expression that denoted annoyance everywhere you looked. she was quiet, but grumbled with intentions of letting the other woman notice her discomfort. she grabbed the seat belt and tugged at it with annoyance as she put it on.

"jimin, can you stop trying to wreck my car?" finally spoke serim with a kind tone. "i know you're mad about yeeun-"

"i'm not mad about yeeun." she interrupted, her attitude cold. "in fact, i couldn't care less about yeeun."

"baby." the older one leaned down to put her hand on her thigh, stroking her skin with her thumb trying to soothe her.

"don't 'baby' me." she interrupted her before she could say anything else, mimicking the way she called her.

"okay." she watched her tenderly and patiently. "jimin." she called her again.

"what, namu? what?" she asked frustrated.

"i don't feel anything for yeeun." she clarified.

"i'm not interested." she pushed the girl's hand away from her leg, her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"clearly you're interested because otherwise, you wouldn't be like this." she reasoned, moving the hand she had pushed up to the back of her neck, squeezing her fingers gently as if she were massaging her.

"i'm not like this because of you." she didn't even look at her and her sentences came out forcefully, the way you speak when every word is laced with anger.

"then what's bothering you?" she raised her tone to a sharper one speaking ironically because she didn't believe her. "tell me so we can work it out." she looked at her amused knowing that no excuse would be good enough.

"can you leave me alone and drive?" she pointed to the steering wheel and then brought her hands to her face to rub it wearily.

"fine." she put on her seat belt. "i'll take you home." she wanted to play with her until she admitted the reason for her discomfort.

"to my place?" that wasn't what they had agreed on.

"you're mad at me." she explained simply, a calmness that was beginning to eat away at karina's insides. "i don't think you want to stay with me in this state."

"the plan was to sleep together." she watched her in bewilderment.

"jimin." she started the car. "not like this." she shook her head.

"turn off the car." she ordered, but the older girl ignored her because she thought she was being dramatic. "namu, turn off the car." she reiterated in an exclamation.

"are you going to calm down?" she obeyed and turned the key to the opposite side. "or are you going to continue with that attitude?" she glared at her, her eyes already beginning to expose the exhaustion this situation was generating in her.

"how can i not be angry?" she said reluctantly. "you bring me to a place where your ex-girlfriend is and i have to watch her rub up against you all night." she brought her gaze forward, staring at the parking lot wall as she let out a deep sigh. "it was our first event as a couple." she mentioned, disappointment in her voice. "or as whatever we are."

"baby." she gave her cheek a caress. "i didn't know yeeun would be here." she justified. "but the moment i saw her i told her i was with you." she assured. "yes, she was drunk and too fond of me-"

"don't remind me." she rubbed her temple pressing a little hard against the jadedness.

"but i kept pushing her away and reminding her that i was with you." she added softly trying to show her that there was nothing to worry about. "i haven't felt anything for her for years." she made it clear again. "no approach from her made me feel anything, i love you." she took her hand gently and lifted it to leave a kiss on the back of it.

"i know." she sighed. "you don't need to tell me, i already know." she redirected the hand serim was holding to rest her palm on her leg. "but i just hate seeing you around other girls." she confessed laden with row. "and yeeun is your ex-girlfriend." she squeezed the older girl's thigh as a result of her annoyance. "she's already hugged you, kissed you, seen you naked." she bit her lip, her eyebrows still a sign of her emotions.

"but it hasn't been that way for a long time now." she let her touch fall on the hand the contrarian held over her. "and now i want you to do those things." she leaned in to leave a kiss on her cheek.

"it drove me crazy all night." she commented, now speaking as she had a pout on her lips. "but the worst moment was when she sat on your lap." she reminded overwhelmed. "i'm going to sound crazy, but i fantasized about pulling her off you by the hair." she laughed wickedly.

"you are crazy, my love." she confirmed, laughing with her, a little terrified. "and delusional." she added. "with those little hands of yours do you think you could hurt anyone?" she pointed to said parts of her body, laughing even more at the idea.

"they're the hands i touch myself with when i think of you." she let out with complete seriousness, her eyes locked on serim's as if she was expectant of her reaction. "i have no problem with them for that."

"jimin, what?" her breathing had stopped in her throat due to the unsettled she had been at what the opposite had said, she turned a little back to her seat so she could see her face well waiting in case she started to laugh and prove it's a joke, but she was serene. "do you touch yourself thinking about me?" she resumed, she didn't know what to say.

"namu." her touch on her thigh began to rise leisurely. "you are mine, you know that, don't you?" her gaze was penetrating, the kind where you feel that the other is really seeing you, that they want to tell you something with their eyes.

"of course i know." in her orbs you could see the anticipation of what was about to happen.

"only mine." she stated, causing the oldest to slowly nod her head. "let's get it straight."

karina ran down what was left of untouched leg until she reached as high up as she could, to the point where serim's leg ended, her crotch covered by her clothing. she gave her a blank stare, as if asking for permission, and while their eyes were silently connected, she lifted her fingers a little being able to brush her fingertips over the area she really wanted to get to.

"jimin." she cocked her head as if warning her of possible danger, but the younger girl didn't care.

"namu." she replied defiantly.

the blackhaired girl turned back to her seat to quickly detach her seatbelt which had had no use as the car had not moved, turned to her partner and leaning on the steering wheel of the idle car propelled herself, rising from her seat and swinging her leg over the girl so as to sit on her lap. she moved back a little until her back was pressed against the wheel and she was over the girl's knees, leaving a small space between them where her hand conveniently fit perfectly. wordlessly, under the watchful eye of a serim who was still trying to process what was happening, she darted to one of the sides looking for the lever that tilted the driver's seat back, pulling it slightly once she found it, causing the chair to recline and thus finally pouncing on jang to capture her lips.

the kiss was desperate, frantic, charged with need and anger. jimin was angry, as her lips intertwined with her girl's, the image of her ex touching her, climbing on top of her, seeking her kisses ate her, burned her. she wanted serim to get things clear, to determine what kind of person she was and how she would react if something like this happened again, that she didn't like it, that she was hers.

serim was out of place, she hadn't had that kind of contact with jimin in a while and at that moment she wasn't expecting it at all, leaning back against the backrest she clasped her hands around the younger girl's waist, holding her tightly to keep her in the position she was in. she gave in to the kiss with pleasure, she would never object to kissing the woman she loved, not even in a public parking lot.

they both ate each other's mouths fiercely, quickly, the kind of desperation that desire brings. jimin's tongue gave a small lick to serim's lower lip asking her permission to enter, to which the contrary granted her the act thus initiating a battle for dominance between the two. the younger woman's hands began to wander from her partner's jaw heading down, past her shoulders and down her arms, taking her hands as she reached them and positioning them on her thighs, because she knew she liked them. after taking her woman's touch to her legs, she brought her palms to her chest to begin to feel her torso patiently moving slowly down to her abdomen where she paused for a second to touch. she continued her way down to the edge of her pants, holding them between her fingertips, moving them tantalizingly as a smile tugged against serim's mouth.

"what are you planning, baby?" serim broke off slightly to ask in a whisper.

jimin just bit her lower lip as she smiled.

she connected her lips with the girl's again, but this time slowly, calmly, a caress between their mouths, but the kind of caresses you give to skin when you have nothing covering it, the intimate kind that no one is allowed to see. she held the edge of serim's pants securely so she could grab the button and pull it loose, causing serim to gasp for air through her nose. the blackhaired grabbed the zipper and started to slowly pull it down giving her room so she could slip in.

she pulled serim's pants down as far as she could and gradually slipped her hand into her underwear, deep down, until she reached her lower lips. she gave a gentle caress as they kissed each other slowly. as she felt the touch on her core serim couldn't resist the urge to dig her nails into the skin of jimin's bare legs who was wearing a dress.

she subtly moved up and down her fingers without putting them in yet, drawing low sighs from serim's lips, who struggled to concentrate on the kiss when in reality she wanted to fully feel the hand exploring her intimacy.

jimin cut the kiss short to stare into serim's eyes as she parted her lower lips with her fingertips to enter a finger that would then wander along the expanse of serim's pussy, doing it once, a second and a third time. serim wasn't the type to moan, so heavy sighs escaped her lips each time the girl played with her as she did.

although she couldn't hold back a soft whimper when karina started to make circles on her clit. at a slow pace, as if she wanted to torture her, she seemed not to remember that it was all happening in a public space and that if she didn't hurry they could get caught. but serim wouldn't stop her even being aware of that. she couldn't. it felt good, how could it not feel good. the girl she loved had her fingers in her pants.

jimin added one more finger and rubbed the girl's center with them, making little circles that had the oldest moving her waists against her hand slyly.

even for lovemaking she didn't like to give jimin the upper hand, but she was enjoying it.

the younger one probed the area again covering it with her fingers so she could reach the hole that begged for her, with the tip of her index finger teasing and playing with it, barely dipping it, barely leaving the surface. it was so wet and wanting that jimin couldn't help the feeling of fulfillment. she loved remembering the power she had over serim, how much she loved and needed her.

"jimin." muttered jang, as if she was nagging at her.

"don't call me jimin." she teased, a pout on her lips.

"my love." she corrected.

"what do you need, my namu?" her hand kept circling her entrance without giving in yet. she loved playing with her.

"put them in." she demanded, her gaze serious, her eyes slightly squinted.

"what do you need, my namu?" she cocked her head to the side feigning confusion.

serim sat up, her legs as wide as they could be with jimin on her knees, giving her room to do whatever she wanted, she raised her hand quickly and grabbed the girl by the hair to pull it, causing her head to throw back a bit, the act was a bit brutish, but serim knew yu wouldn't mind and confirmed it with the moan that escaped the girl's lips. "stop fucking around and finger me, my love." she reiterated in a sarcastic tone.

jimin could try all she wanted to have control over serim, but deep down she knew she was a sucker for her, that as much as she enjoyed fighting her and taking things out on her, she lived to do whatever she asked of her. because she loved her, loved her in ways she didn't understand, and wanted to give her all of herself.

but she was still angry, she still saw yeeun every time she closed her eyes and jealousy was the only feeling almost as strong as all the love she felt for serim, forcing her to remember whose woman she was and why no one else could touch her. she regained her composure and made enough strength to straighten her head again, causing serim to let go of her hair and before her palm could begin to slide down her back, karina had already pushed her back against the backrest and succumbed to her desires.

she inserted a finger into her clenching hole, everything else she had done calmly, but now she had no patience, taking advantage of the dripping fluids to insert it cleanly all the way in.

serim closed her eyes and arched her back a little at the intruder in her body, opening her mouth without a sound, but all her body language was enough to know that she had given her a wave of pleasure that crashed against her whole body. at a not so fast pace, jimin began to move it outward and inward.

"i told you my fingers work wonders." she said as she moved into the girl's pussy, gentle thrusts at a steady pace. they weren't serim's fine, veiny, long-fingered hands, which just thinking about them already felt like her own pussy was dripping, but they were giving her the pleasure she wanted.

"you're so full of yourself." replied the oldest laughing, but interrupting herself with the gasping breath she couldn't hold as she was being fucked by jimin.

karina added a second finger, feeling serim's walls contract around these, wanting to trap them so she wouldn't come out of her until she came in them. serim bit her lip as her hips pushed against the opposite hand in search of more contact in a way she could no longer disguise.

"baby." she let out with the air that escaped her at the thrusts from the youngest, her pussy throbbed at the situation, the touches that were now firm and more continuous, the way jimin was playing with her entrance with her fingers that were making her see lights while her eyes were kept closed to enjoy the world of sensations she was feeling.

still lost in the touch of the younger one, serim had the strength to detach her claws from her girl's legs and moved her caresses up them until she reached the edge of her dress, she wanted to lift it, but with her free hand jimin stopped her, pushing them away.

"let me please you." jang pleaded with her gaze locked on her thighs.

"this is about you." she threw her body forward coming within inches of her lips. "do you want to please me?" she left a chaste kiss on her mouth. "choke me." she ordered.

and serim didn't need to be told twice, she took advantage of the closeness between their bodies to raise her arm and capture karina's neck between her fingers, squeezing hard, biting with intensity as she watched her eyes roll back as she felt the contact. for a moment she even felt her thrusts stop as she succumbed to the lust she felt at being deprived of air by those hands she fantasized about when she was alone, but quickly and under her girl's oxygen restriction, she resumed the movement, now not only moving frantically inside the older woman but also rubbing her palm against her clit, exerting pressure on it with each lunge.

serim had two fingers stretching her hole as they fastly pushed in, apart from feeling the stimulation in her center, her head was on either side, blinded by passion and pleasure, as she tried to remember to keep the strength on the younger's neck. jimin's fingers slid as far in as they would go and slid out and back in as fast as they could.

serim let go of karina's neck making the girl whine, but quickly shut her up by slipping the same amount of fingers that were fucking her pussy, but inside her mouth, to which the blackhaired had no more complaints as she started licking and sucking them without thinking about it much.

but nothing could distract her from her work inside her girl's underwear, her fingers went back and forth inside her while serim no longer controlled her hips that begged for release, pushing against her hand, fucking herself against it, her breathing agitated and some low, almost inaudible whimpers were coming from her lips.

jimin could feel her fingers being squeezed inside the girl whose pussy pulsed uncontrollably and she knew she wouldn't last much longer so she increased the speed of her thrusts as much as she could helping her reach orgasm.

serim's ears suddenly heard nothing anymore and her hand that was still in jimin's mouth suddenly fell out of it. her back that had arched fully during her climax became discontracted, her eyes remained closed and her mouth went from biting tensely due to the desperation she had felt to cum to being slightly open to catch her breath.

she had to stop smoking.

jimin was also agitated and took that moment to relax and breathe, while looking tenderly at her partner. she carefully pulled her hand out, causing a startle in serim as she removed her fingers from inside her and immediately brought them to her mouth to clean them with her tongue. act that serim opened her eyes to watch attentively.

"if you keep doing that i'll be the one who will have to fuck you." spoke the oldest lost in the way both digits went in and out of karina's lips.

"then let's go home so you can fuck me." she replied simply.

(!)

— taglist [CLOSED]: @yoontoonwhs @cwpiqwon @aliceiwk @xen248 @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @aeriuchinarga @multiliker @somedaydream @impossiblesharkcashrebel @yjiminswallet @nwjnsloona @yerimbrit @73vyn @dni-unavailable @yizhuobberi @sewiouslyz @yeetaberry127 @masuowo @yallatalla @chaenniefirst @minfolio @starrynini05 @hotluvlet @wmnrhot @mineige @lisaswifey @brocoliisscared @fae-the-wanderer @vivilvr

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sunrisecaminus · 2 days ago

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Soundwave x Reader SFW/NSFW Headcanons

Summary - Soundwave and human conjunx Headcanons. NSFW under the "Keep Reading".

Warnings - Valveplug, Exhibitionism

SFW

~ When you were taken from the ship, Soundwave grew attached immediately from how you treated Lazerbeak.

~ Soundwave is a very loving conjunx, even if he doesn't show it to anybody on the ship. It makes people think you are neglected all the time, but what they don't know is that it is the exact opposite.

~ Leaving to go to work? Do not worry, Soundwave would ground bridge you there. Needing more groceries? Dude, he could just order online for you for free.

~ Anytime you kiss him on the hand or face, holy crap that man will be thinking about it for the rest of his day. He has secretly took pictures and videos of your sweetest moments with him, so anytime he is stressed or down, he watches his recordings to give him more motivation.

~ Since he watched the security camera's 24/7, he will know when someone is being mean to you. The 3rd in command would deal with it himself the next day and you will never see that horrible mech ever again.

~ Researched everything about human culture to make sure anything you said wasn't confusing to him. Yes, he knows slang. No, he will not use it…that is embarrassing.

~ Megatron does not understand the human pet Soundwave acquired but Soundwave planned for this and has made literal PowerPoints for his leader on why you are useful to him.

~ Soundwave has never really cuddled before, so when you hugged him while he worked and nuzzled on his cheek…he is now craving your touch every second you are gone. He will give you every sad face he can send to you until you hug/kiss him again.

~ His tendrils would be so fun. You would play with them all the time and try to catch them when you thought he was distracted by his computer. Why did you always fall for him pretending to work? You are the reason why the Decepticons have late paperwork and reports from 2 weeks ago.

~ Would shut down a bank to give you everything you desire. He would never judge you for what you want.

NSWF

~ Speaking of what you want. If you are a crazy sex freak, he would give you that. If you are more casual and not care about sex as much, Soundwave would still love and care for all your other needs.

~ Soundwave of course would use his tendrils to please you. I think we all know those things are his best quality.

~ Public Sex? Soundwave would be confused at first on why you would want to do it on his desk, but after the first time he would never question you again. Hiding you from soldiers while fondling your chest with his hands should not be as fun as it is.

~ LOVES your body and caresses everywhere you want him to touch. Him feeling how soft humans are would make him question why Megatron hates organics.

~ You in cute outfits sends him over the edge. Soundwave loved the clothes that humans made and seeing you in rich, beautiful outfits makes him hungry.

~ His spike is average size but to you that is still big as hell so yes he would have to mass displace if you wanted to get real touchy with him.

~ Remember Soundwave craving your touch? Well, don't get him started on you touching his spike. 4 million years of the war made him realize how touch starved and sensitive he was. You can feel him shaking while he recorded everything you did to his shaft.

~ If you tried to be a little shit and do something he told you not to do…yeah you would not be able to get out of bed the next day. Look he will always be nice and gentle with you, but the moment you get naughty on purpose is when you became the bottom in the relationship.

~ He would use his tendrils, tie you up, and abuse your lower half for HOURS!

~ Soundwave is use to not sleeping for 24 hours, so you better have had a goodnight sleep last night, because this will not end until you can't even make noises anymore.

~ He is a master of Aftercare and would bathe you, wrap you up in the softest blankets, and let you sleep soundly. The only thing you would hear before dozing off is the clicking of the computer he was using to finish his work.

#maccadam #tfp #transformers #transformers prime #transformers x reader #transformers x y/n #transformers x human #soundwave x reader #soundwave x y/n #soundwave x human #valveplug #soundwave headcanons

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 17 minutes ago

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I think it's also a problem in arts departments too, in a way. for example, while i was in undergrad, my home uni's philosophy department refused to ever assign presentations as an adequate form of assessment. this however, imo, gave plenty of students, including me, excuses to just straight up refuse to do their readings bc "it's only marked as part of my 5% or 10% participation grade.... so what's even the point of reading sawquest, anderson and zazo "the examination of the twin earth problem from the systems analysis" or whatever the fuck in the philosophy of mind, for example. "i can just pretend i've done the reading and scab answers off everyone else in the tute, if we have minor unmarked group work".

this bred a student base of mostly uninterested, disengaged, confused students (and some bitter legal and jounalism etc/media & comms students who found philosophy to be "a waste of time" bc "i can already argue!!!! bc im going to be a lawyer and/or journalist!" and "i was also in debate/parliamentary/school newsletter team at school!!!!" and also..... HOW and WHY are you doing journalism etc/media and comms or law if you don't CARE about the fundamentals of argumentation, rhetoric/discourse (which you'll be creating with your so-called "think pieces" in journalism and media!!!), logic and language??? are you fucking stupid??? [tbf they were 18 and 19 year olds. of course they were going to say dumb shit]). i was one of the above philosophy students, obvs. because how the fuck are you meant to communicate these ideas to people when you're NOT doing the readings??

when you're not FORCED to do the readings, for a presentation or, y'know just the essays, you just make excuses not to do them. tbf. like yes, i could do the 2,500 word essays and 500 word essay plans just fine. but when it came to engaging with the readings, i couldnt get past more than the second page of every 50 page reading. but if i was given a presentation to do??? bruh, i probably would have forced myself to at least 10 pages of all of the readings??? i DON'T want to look like a fuckwit in front of the 25 to 30 people in my tute time class. but just giving me essay upon essay upon essay??? and the occasional open book exam/take home exam? you give me an excuse to just coast by on the bare minimum and then force out an essay 8 hours before it's due, in the hope i'll get at least a credit/65% to 70%, minimum grade.

you're giving everyone the impression that the philosophy students are just locking themselves in their bedrooms (their classic ivory towers) to do their essays and nothing else. that they don't know how to communicate complicated ideas to the layman through a presentation..... and then, very suddenly and ironically, you expect grad students to be happy to present to a crowd their dissertation or just to their thesis/dissertation advisor every week??? what the hell??? HOW does that make ANY sense??? how does that give anyone in this study stream CONFIDENCE to present???? the confidence to have the literacy to present their findings, when in undergrad they weren't deliberately given presentations in this field to practice these skills??? "oh but they'll have them in english. or sociology. or cultural studies.... so why do we need them at all?" to be fair, for me, i had to address this after a anxiety attack before a presentation in ancient history. i went to toastmasters. and lo and behold, i did meet the occasional philosophy postgrad person there. because they were far too nervous to present each week to their thesis advisor. after 3 years of NO presentations. we also got plenty of engineering honours people too, right before their thesis presentations. because a similar thing happened in their field, apparently.

okay yes, i had good literacy skills in general in school and in uni, in my actual major, english. i learnt the hard way with exams and inclass tests to DO the readings, or at least do a really good study jamming session at least 2 days before sitting modernists and having to write an essay fr james joyce's portrayal of himself in "a portrait of an artist as a young man" (i FUCKING HATE this book. fuck james joyce all the way to hell) , a book i couldnt read past page 10. but my god. the literacy skills in philosophy classes were ABYSMAL. mostly because everyone refused to do their readings and refused to even grasp the topics we were doing. and tbf, probably on this post, my comprehension is in hell. because due to the devaluation of arts in society, i don't engage in textual analysis or read as much dickens or bronte or dickinson, etc as i should these days. which is i think is wrong with engineering and the overall bs thing on YT of "ONLY do degrees that GENERATE money! don't you DARE go into the arts when you KNOW you will NEVER pay it back! who needs reading comprehension and literacy, when that don't PAY THE BILLS AND STUDENT LOANS BAYBAY!?"

all in all, yes, in the end the philosophy dept did introduce marked presentations AND group work (yes philosophy did NO group work the whole time i was in uni), right as i was graduating in 2018. because. of course they did. and yes, a lot of is down to the a student's drive and interests in the subjects they choose. and how they interact with their readings and classmates. but also, i think it can rest on department teaching and assessment tactics as well. certain departments NEED to have presentations in their curricula because HOW FUCKING ELSE are students going to develop the necessary communication and comprehension skills to present or just normally talk to people about their course content??? if the whole general vibe from the student base is "oh we NEVER do the readings!"

i also feel this is an issue with the media and comms dept at my home uni, deliberately cutting off their old cross department majors/minors within the arts department option that was there when i began in that degree. so now if you want to do an english major with your media and comms degree, you're actually now FORCED to do a double degree.... and most esp if you're in the marketing comms and advertising major that i originally chose, you HAVE to do a major or minor within the degree stream ONLY. like i get on some level that it's to do with cross media skills and employability skills. and that in the last 10 years (wow what the FUCK) since i started uni, digital media skills and study IS its own field. but also. but also, what about the broader social context brought from a history major or sociology major or an english double major??? WHY does it HAVE to be a double degree???

ANYWAY. that's my rant. and probably, my reading literacy and comprehension on this post was poor. so piss on me (or don't)- is that what fall out boy said all those years ago???

I cannot stress the importance of paying attention in language classes in high school. Maybe the reason why your English teacher taught you about unreliable narrators is because a lot of the media around you is written by unreliable narrators posing as reliable. Maybe they gave you assignments on interpreting texts so you could draw your own conclusions about news articles. Some of you clearly thought English classes were useless in high school and now are unable to engage critically with media.

#life #about me #GOD YEAH #ilona gets on her soapbox on a huge post #shut up ilona #ilona adds to a big post

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onlymexsarah · 10 hours ago

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Burning Flames VII || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: Suggestive, violence, mention of blood, language and my english :) A/n: Two updates in the same week?! I am really enjoying my free time :) It's a bit shorter than the previous ones, but I promise it set the space for the more to come ;) Let me know if you liked it and if you want to be added to the taglist🫶🏻 Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3- Chapter 4- Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

You gasped for air as you woke up. Darkness surrounded you, but this time you knew where you were, you knew what you were supposed to do.

"Everything alright?" the shadowsinger asked from his spot against a tree.

You had decided to take turns while you slept, and now was Azriel's, which told you that you were about to start moving again.

Your eyes slowly found his, unsure on what to say in order to not sound crazy. You had been in Eris' head. You had actually talked to him, and you had always been right, he was under the Crown's control.

You gulped as the first light of the morning came into view. "I talked with Eris." you started slowly, not wanting to wake Cassian who was snoring few feet beside you. "The bargain we made had created some sort of bond, and with our proximity I slipped in his dream. He is under Briallyn's control."

Azriel's silence was louder than any other sound. He was the male who could see things that others couldn't, and if there was someone who would believe you it was him.

"How do you know it?" he quietly asked as shadows moved all around you, probably checking if anyone approached while you two talked.

You gave him a little shrug. You actually knew so little about everything that you had to keep up. "Every night since we arrived I dream this fog that forbid me to think, to move and to speak. This night was different, I was me, and in the middle of the fog there was Eris. Since I was Made the Crown doesn't have effect on me, and I was able to free Eris from its grip for a while." Gods, did you sound delusional? You were sure of what happened, you were sure you were right, but the male in front of you had every reason to not believe Eris' innocence. "Believe me, Azriel. Please. He warned me that she is controlling him, and we should run away."

Actually he told you to run away, he hadn't really cared to acknowledge the two Illyrians' warriors presence, but you thought better before specify that tiny detail.

"We move now." The shadowsinger nodded and took a stone from the ground. You rose an eyebrow at him, confused by his action. He only gave you a smirk before launching it toward Cassian, hitting his leg. The General rose to his feet with his blade in hand, looking for an invisible threat. "Rise and shine, it's time to go."

As soon as you stopped your laughter the tree of you started to follow the caravan again, this time you had a clear goal in mind: take Eris away from Briallyn.

When you entered the low-lying forest a strange feeling grew inside you. "I don't like this place." you murmured to Azriel as you landed near the lake where the party had stopped. "It's feel cold, wrong...like something ancient had put its roots here."

Cassian was quick to walk behind you, while Azriel took the front, shielding you with their bodies. You walked silently before stopping behind a tree and observing the scene in front of you.

There were twenty people, a mix of soldiers and nobility. You looked for the redhead, but its stallion was hitched to a branch, and he was nowhere to be seen. Anxiety started to build in your mind, what if Briallyn had taken him somehwere else? What if he had- "Over here, Cassian."

You quickly turned on your feet, his voice working like a siren song over your entire body. Eris was there, alive, breathing, smirking, and with a knife at Cassian's ribs.

You hold your breath as Azriel stilled beside you. "I knew you were a lying bastard." Cassian said through his teeth. "But this is low, even for you."

There was nothing you could do, not when Eris had Nesta's dagger right at Cassian's ribs. A move and the General would be slashed in two, and you had no idea how you would explain it to Nesta.

"Honestly, I'm disappointed in Rhysand." Eris said. "He's become so bland these days. He didn't even try to look into my mind."

You could feel a presence, somewhere around you. You knew you were being watched, and you knew that Briallyn must be close enough for her to give Eris' orders.

"You can't win this." Azriel warned with quiet menace. "You're a dead male walking, Eris. Have been for a long time."

Everything was about to go down if you didn't do something. Even if Azriel believed that Eris was under the Crown's control he wouldn't hesitate to kill Eris in order to help his brother.

The only problem was, you wouldn't allows him to do such thing.

"Let him go, Briallyn." you growled as you clenched your fits, flames bright around them, ready to strike. "It's me you want, come out and play."

Eris slid away the Made dagger from Cassian's ribs, freezing on his spot as a withered, reedy laugh came from behind him. "You'd be surprise by how many want you, Y/N Archeron. It's quite the prize you have on your head."

A hunched, cloaked figure come out from the shadows, standing right beside the male you were desperated to reach for. You needed to get her away from him so that Cassian and Azriel could grab him and fly away.

"High Lords, dark sorcerers, queens..." the cloacked figure kept talking. "Everyone want you."

The flames in your hands grew brighter, and you had to hold every piece of control you possesed to not look toward Eris. "Can't wait to meet them. I'd hate to disappoint. "

She laughed coldly, and a shiver run throught your body. Was she already using the Crown on Azriel and Cassian? Were you alone against her? If so, you would waste no time before killing her.

"For now, you won't go anywhere." the figure said. As Azriel stiffened beside you, probably ready to attack if she come any closer, you felt something shift in the air. "Eris, make sure she stays right where she is while I take the boys for a walk."

You couldn't stop your eyes from snapping to Eris, finding him shifting his weight on his legs, hands loose at his side and glassy, empty eyes fixed on you.

There was no way to communicate with him without Briallyn knowing it, or was it? Eris had told you that the bargain had created a bond among the two of you, could you access that bond to communicate with him?

As soon as you looked inside you, there it was. Weak, thin and hidden, you could make out the bond that had been created by the bargain. You tug to it, shyly, never breaking eye contact with Eris.

Can you ear me?

Nothing on his perfect, beautiful face. Nothing in his enchanting, amber eyes. You clenched your jaw, frustrated by the lack of reaction.

Come, snap at me. Mock me for caring. Say something.

Nothing.

"Lets give them their privacy, shall we?" the cloaked figure mocked as she moved toward the lake. Your eyes shifted on Azriel, how could you tell him that Briallyn was not the cloaked figure? You could smell the unmistakably Made-scent that someone like you, your sisters and Briallyn shared, but it come from behind you, not in front of you. "Princeling, if she try to move, kill her."

Your eyes widened as you saw Eris' hand grabbing the pomel of the Made dagger at his side. From outside it could have seemed a casual move, but you knew it was different. He would kill you if you moved. Eris would actually do it, and there was nothing you or him could do to stop it.

"Don't you dare to move." Cassian warned you between his teeth as him and Azriel started to follow the fake Briallyn.

Gods, if you couldn't warn them of the danger, you had to stop it yourself. Quite the difficult task since there was an incredible, terrifying, skilled warrior ready to kill you if you did as much as scratch your nose. Not a no one warrior, but the General of the Autumn Court's forces. You could not stand a chance even if you had trained since you were born.

You gulped down the sluckery sensation of fear that was starting to grow inside you as you watched Eris. Never since you had known him had you been afraid of him. But now?

"You know I cannot let them alone with her." you said carefully, keeping your senses open as the real Briallyn's scent moved around you in the forest.

He didn't do as much as breath. "I'll have to kill you."

You hated his empty voice. You hated the sight of him so, so...lifeless. Eris could be many things: arrogant, funny, mocking, polite, flirty; but he had never sounded so flat.

"She controls minds, not emotions. So spare me the pain that your death would bring on me."

"You don't want to kill me." You repeated slowly, hoping that the Eris you knew was in there somewhere. "It would pain you, remember?"

"Then dont move." if you had to listen to his voice, you would say that he didn't really care if he killed you.

He made it sound like a business meeting. Move and I'll kill you, don't move and I won't. So easy, so simple.

You could sense Briallyn walking away from you, toward the lake where Azriel and Cassian were. You could not let her take them. You were the only one that Briallyn couldn't touch, so that meant that they were under your protection.

"I'm sorry." You sighed, and saw Eris' hand tightening around the dagger. He too was undertanding what you were going to do, and you considered it a small victory when in his eyes something shifted. "I hope stories exaggerate about your talent with a dagger."

And without a warning you run in the opposite direction, toward the real Briallyn. There was no turning back now. You had switched on Eris' order to kill you, and now the steps you heard behind you sounded very much like a mourning song. Probably the one that they would play at your funeral.

You could not beat Eris if it come to a fight, so your only chance was to be quicker, find Briallyn and kill her before he could come any close to you.

A memory flashed into your mind of the first and only time you had been running with Eris on your feet. You were running toward Nesta to stop the King od Hybern from killing her, and Eris had been following you to save you. How the table had turned now.

A moment you were running, the next the ground approached quickly to your face. Pain flashed throught your temple as you hit the forest's floor.

You quickly tried to get up on your feet before a hand grabbed your hair and forced you to stand up. A scream of pain left your lips as you were faced with the redhaired male. "Eris stop." you tried to talk reason into him as fire bounded your ankles together, forbidding you to run.

Your hand was quick at his side, grabbing the Made dagger and pushing the blade at his neck while he angled your head at an unnatural angle. It was completely less pleasuring than the way he did it in your dream.

The Made dagger pulsed in your hand, power flew in it throught your hand and you couldn't say were your power started and where its power ended. You could slice every enemy with it, but you wouldn't slice Eris. Never.

"Stop." you hissed pressing the blade against his skin, hoping that the good sense in him win on his controlled mind.

"Or what? You're gonna kill me, Archeron?" He asked, almost mocking. His free hand grabbed your throat and pushed you against a tree making your vision going blurr as your head hit the wood. "Go on. Do it."

You could feel the air burning your lungs as it got harder and harder to breath. The grip on the dagger faltered, but Eris made no move to disarm you. Your eyes met again as his hand around your throat started to burn, and you were sure you would have burned flash for the next days.

If you survived it.

"Kill me." he dared you as his hand tightened.

He sounded like he was on the edge to beg you. Briallyn had told him to kill you, he couldn't stop it, but he could ask you to kill him first.

You would have laughed in another situation. "I won't." you barely stated as air started to stop coming inside your body. You let the Made dagger fallen on the ground, and you swore you saw his eyes widening with fear. "I can't." you whispered as you let your hands falling on his shoulders, a poor attempt to push him away.

You couldn't kill him. Your whole body would burn itself before killing him. The realization struck you in what was probably the worst moment. Dying was easier than killing him.

It was the unlocked fear in his amber eyes that made something click inside you.

"She controls minds, not emotions."

"Y/n, follow their instruction and don't let emotions cloud your judgment. Eris might depends on your clear mind more than we can imagine."

"Control your anger."

"She controls minds, not emotions."

"-not emotions."

Emotions could cloud your mind. You had lived it on your skin. And maybe it could cloud the Crown too.

You fought the blackness that threatened to blind you, as a crazy, stupid, mad idea came into your mind. You locked your hands behind his neck, locking your eyes with his. "I hope you like me enough, or this would be mortifying as my last moment."

You used all the strenght left in your body to push him against you and brought his face toward yours, making your lips, finally, crash. You barely registered how soft his slips were as your eyes shut closed while you desperatly begged the Mother to make it work.

Goosebumps rose all over your skin as your brain registered that you were actually kissing Eris. You felt him tense and tried to push away, but you would be damned if you let him. You grabbed his hair and kept his lips on yours as a different fire started to grow inside you.

You had to admit, this was definetly not your best kiss since you were almost blacking out for the lack of oxygen, and not because he was kissing you breathless but because he was actually strangling you to death.

But none of it mattered as you felt his grip on your throat lightening and the fingers he had locked in your hair started to actually caress the back of your neck.

The kiss was messy as you fought to stay awake and you supposed he was fighting the urge to kill you, to wich you were actually grateful. He was kissing you like his life depended on it, and even if you felt the need to puntualize that he was fighting for your life, you let him set the space.

Your body was begging for air, it would soon give out, but Eris needed you more. You could do it, a little more. You could resist however long he needed.

His grip on you had gone from deathly to needy. He was keeping you close, as if he was afraid for it to end. As if kissing you was his only chance at sanity.

Your desperation matched his. You both needed this to work. You both were walking a thin line between life and death. You both had probably wanted this for a very long time. You surely had.

You wished you could enjoy it, to let yourself loose in the fire that Eris was, but as the last wave of oxygen left your body your head lightened up. You tried to open your eyes but only blackness stared you back and suddenly all your strenght left.

Eris stopped abruptly, and you barely felt his head distancing from yours. "Little flame?"

"I'm going to faint." You whispered with a rough voice, trying your best to smile. "Please don't kill me."

The world fell around you, or you fell throught the world, and the floor disappeared from under your feet as two strong arms scooped you up.

Then, black.

A/N: AND THEY KISSED. It's not the kiss that reader, nor Eris, had hoped for, but it's what they both needed. Maybe not reader's lungs, but tbh I too would let him suck the air (and not only that) out of me and I would thank him :)

taglist: @adventure-awaits13 @blueeclipsepaperstudent @huffleruffplant @azysmate @bia-wayne-west @babypeapoddd @lady-targaryens-world@sourapplex @ghostwritermia @asteria33 @pinklemonade34 @tell-me-a-poem @speedypersonawhispers @historygeekqueen @webvics@paliketerson @lizzytish82 @tincanhat @marrass @acourtofmoonlightandstars @yasmin-oviedo @ghostwritermia @marly500@kabekusa @gamarancianne @butterfix @itsxchar6 @iowaladynerd @that-girl-reading @kitsunetori @rcarbo1 @username199945 @giana1508 @homeslices @yasmin-oviedo @impossibelle @iambored24601 @elisabethch82 @herondale-lightworm

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra #burning flames #acotar #acowar #rhysand #cassian #acomaf #azriel #night court #velaris

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bonedo-enthusiast · 3 days ago

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toxic 𐂐◯𓇋 (hts)

i got inspo from lettuce by f5ve to write this--would recommend giving it a listen. :)

desc: when you confront taesan about his changed behavior, you don't expect what comes out of his mouth next. (taesan asks reader to dom him for the first time. 🤭)

warnings: smut, mdni!, some angst at the beginning, some fluff at the end, sub!taesan x dom!reader, masochist!taesan x sadist!reader, praise, degradation, temperature play (using a cold object), biting, oral (both receiving), p in v, no protection used (but pls do irl!), taesan is a brat, orgasm denial, cum eating, voyeurism/exhibitionism(?), use of some pet/nicknames (sannie, sweetie, baby), afab!reader but no pnouns used + lmk if i missed anything as always!

wc: 2,074

taesan was the perfect boyfriend–always doing you favors, giving you compliments, and randomly giving you gifts. but then he started working at a new job, and that’s when everything seemed to change. it was almost like overnight, the sweet thoughtful boy that you once knew was now distant and cold toward you. eventually, you had had enough.

“taesan, what the fuck?” you asked him after he got off work, brushing past you to go to the bedroom.

“what?” taesan asked in turn, not even looking at you.

“why have you been acting so toxic lately? what’s changed?”

he turned around with a scoff, you putting your hands on your hips. “me? toxic?”

“um, yeah. all of a sudden, you don’t wanna spend as much time together and you hardly ever compliment me anymore. so, like i asked, what’s changed?” you paused. “are you cheating on me?”

“what?” taesan looked offended. “of course not.”

“okay, then spill the beans.”

“fine. fine, i’ll spill the beans.” he straightened up, looming over you. “it’s ‘cause you don’t care.”

“huh?” now it was your turn to scoff. “i don’t care? why on earth would you think that?”

“because…” he faltered, a break in his nonchalant mask. but then it was back. “you never do any of the things you do for me. it always feels like i’m putting more effort into the relationship. and, well, my new friends at work have made me realize that.”

“oh…” you frowned, softening. “i never thought of it like that. in fact, i never really thought of that at all. i’m… so sorry, taesan.”

he let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. “no, i’m sorry. this is kind of stupid. i should’ve just talked to you about it like a grown man.”

“and i should’ve realized that you were doing more for me than i was for you. we both made mistakes.” you smiled up at him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “is there anything i can do to make it up to you, love?”

“well… actually, there’s another thing.” taesan said, looking a bit flushed.

this made you quirk an eyebrow in curiosity. “what is it, sannie?”

“there’s no easy way to bring this up.” his eyes shifted down to the floor. “i… i want to try something different in our… relationship.”

“okay…” you said, nervousness bubbling up inside you. “what do you mean?”

taesan mumbled. “i want you to dom me.”

“what?!” you jumped back in surprise, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth.

“we don’t have to.” taesan said quickly, sighing again. “sorry, forget i even mentioned–”

you silenced him, pulling him down and crashing your lips into his. taesan let out a soft moan, breaking away from the kiss soon after. his cheeks were red as he began to stammer out something, but you cut him off by kissing him again

“you’re so fucking hot, taesan.” you murmured, catching his bottom lip in between your teeth. he visibly shuddered, looking at you with lust when you pulled away. “strip.”

“but i wanna see you fi–”

“i said strip.” you said, making him feel small with your gaze even though you were physically smaller. “safe word is banana, okay?”

taesan nodded and bit his lip, quickly taking off his t-shirt and sweats. he paused at the waistband of his boxers, looking at you. then he slowly slid them off too, his cock springing up from the motion. your eyes gravitated toward it and you instinctively reached out, wrapping a hand around it. taesan sucked in a breath at the contact, maintaining your gaze.

“go into the bedroom and wait for me. i also want to try something.” you said, letting go of his dick.

taesan smirked. “oh? and what might that be?”

“a surprise.” you headed into the kitchen after taesan entered your shared bedroom. you walked to the fridge, opening the freezer and rummaging around in it until you saw it. you kept a metal spoon in there for your skincare but a while back you had wondered what it might be like to use something cold in the bedroom. you personally enjoyed the way lube felt due to its coolness, so it didn’t sound too far fetched to you.

you closed the freezer and headed to the bedroom, opening the door to find taesan on the bed with a hand pumping his cock.

“taesan, what the fuck are you doing?” you asked sternly.

“i’m–hah–jerking off, what does it–mmh–look like?” taesan stumbled over his words, biting his lip.

“did i say you could do that?”

“you d-didn’t say i couldn–ah! y-y/n… f-fuck!” taesan let out a loud groan as his body shuddered, spurts of milky white falling on his thighs and the sheets below him.

you let out a disappointed sigh, coming to sit beside him. “taesan… look at me.” you grabbed his chin, forcing him to make eye contact with you. “you should know you’re not supposed to do anything to yourself unless i tell you to.”

“whoops.” taesan replied with a shrug, smiling cheekily at you.

you rolled your eyes and pushed him down so he was laying on the bed. you hovered over him and placed the cold metal spoon against one of his nipples, his back slightly arching as he let out a moan.

you giggled. “oh? does my baby like that?”

“sh-shut up…” taesan murmured, his words contrasting with the neediness in his eyes.

“that’s no way to talk to me.” you said, moving the spoon to his other nipple. he moaned again, shivering a little. “apologize.”

“no…”

you trailed the spoon down his stomach to his dick, stopping just at the base. he let out a louder moan and you gave him a look.

“o-okay, i’m s-sorry, fuck…”

“there we go. that’s better, don’t you think?” you smiled sweetly at him and removed the spoon, replacing it with your warm hand.

he sucked in air between his teeth, shuddering again. “y/n, i need you… now.”

“mm, i didn’t hear a ‘please.’” you said, wrapping a limp hand around his cock before releasing it, toying with him.

“p-please, y/n! please.”

“i don’t know if you deserve it. after all, you’ve already cum before i’ve even had a chance to. that’s rude, don’t you think?”

“i said i’m sorry, okay?”

“not about that. and not about your attitude, either.” you kissed his neck, causing him to squirm a little.

“well, i-i am! sorry. for all of it.”

“you know… they say that actions speak louder than words.” you slid off your shorts and panties, feeling the cool air hitting you. taesan practically salivated, his eyes immediately going to your cunt.

“fuck…” he groaned, instinctively reaching for his dick.

you swatted his hand away. “nu-uh. exhibit a. you are not sorry.” you swung a leg over his lap, hovering just above his dick. “guess i’ll have to make you sorry.”

you sunk down then, sucking in a sharp breath as he stretched you out with no preparation. taesan threw his head back with a grunt, his hands resting on either side of your thighs. you paused for a few moments, using the time to litter kisses along his neck. you sucked and nipped at the skin, causing red and purple marks to begin blooming. when you felt ready, you sunk the rest of the way down and bottomed out with a soft moan.

“so beautiful.” taesan mumbled. “making me feel so good…”

“oh, baby, we haven’t even started.” you lifted off of his cock before slamming back down, knocking a gasp out of him. you tried to contain your own noises but ending up failing. taesan didn’t seem to notice anyway with the way he was struggling keeping his eyes open.

you picked up the pace, fucking yourself on him like your life depended on it.

“y/n, i-i might cum soon.” taesan stammered out between gasps of air.

“no, you won’t. not until i say.”

“please… please please please.” taesan whined, causing something deep inside you to awaken at this unfamiliar tone.

“you heard me, slut.” you said, grabbing the spoon from earlier and placing it against his nipples.

he gasped loudly. “c-cold, f–aah! y/n, please. i can’t–i can’t hold it in!”

you slid off of his cock, sitting on his thighs. taesan whined at the loss of contact. “no! y/n, p–”

“stop your whining.” you said sternly. “look at you. i’ve never seen you so pathetic.”

“i-i need you.” taesan said pitifully, his eyes desperately searching yours. “need you so bad.”

“you just don’t listen, do you?” you let out a dramatic sigh before leaning down and taking his dick in your mouth.

“yes! y-yes! thank you so m–fuck!” taesan bucked his hips as you gently nibble the base of his cock.

“oh, does my baby like that?” you teased. “you are so dirty, aren’t you?” you continued sucking him off, swirling your tongue around his tip.

“f-fuck, y/n, i’m gonna c–” you let his dick fall out of your mouth as his body began tensing. “no!” he whined again, looking frustrated. “i was s-so close, y/n!”

“i know. but like i said, i haven’t even cum yet.” you leaned back and inserted a finger inside your cunt, letting out a soft moan.

taesan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he leaned forward, about to touch you.

“nu-uh, no touching. either me or yourself. just watch.”

he frowned as he leaned back, biting his lip in frustration. you began pumping the finger in and out of yourself, letting moans and curses tumble out of your mouth. when you inserted another finger, taesan let out an audible moan.

“should i go faster, baby?” you asked him with a smile.

“yes, faster.” taesan nodded enthusiastically, knowing that the sooner your orgasm came, the sooner his would too.

you let out a giggle and fingered yourself with more intensity, your eyebrows furrowing with pleasure. you felt the knot in your stomach tighten until it finally exploded, your juices coating your hand.

taesan let out a groan, staring at your fingers as you pulled them out of yourself.

“wanna taste, baby?” you asked, bringing your fingers up to his lips.

he guided your fingers into his mouth, sucking on them while maintaining eye contact with you. once he sucked them clean, you removed them. “fuck, you taste so good…”

“thank you, baby. are you ready to cum now?”

“yes, please.” taesan leaned back some more as you lined him up with your entrance. you sunk down again, bouncing up and down on his cock harder than before. “oh sh-shit, y/n!”

you leaned down and kissed him. you tasted yourself as your tongues danced around each other. he grabbed the back of your head, needily deepening the kiss. then his body tensed up again and his movements stopped as he let out a loud moan. you felt him cum inside you, the warm liquid filling you up even more.

he fell back panting but grunted again as he felt you continuing to move. “i-it hurts!”

“i know, sweetie, but you like it, don’t you? besides, i should get to cum again too.” you cooed, brushing the hair off of his forehead.

you continued riding him until you also came, your cunt clenching around him. taesan involuntarily shivered at the feeling before wrapping you into a hug.

“i really am so sorry for treating you like that.” he said after a few moments. “i feel like a dumbass.”

“i’m not going to disagree.” you joked, grinning at him.

“yeah… yeah.” he let out a short laugh. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

a few weeks later, taesan came home to find that you weren’t there. he read the note you left on the kitchen table: “be back soon. going to the store. :)”

he walked into the bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes when he saw a vinyl sitting on the bed. his eyes lit up as he approached it, seeing another note from you: “i hope you know now that i care. sorry for calling you toxic… <3”

taesan let out a giggle and took the vinyl out of its sleeve, popping it on the record player against the wall. he sat on the bed and listened to the soft music, finding his smile growing wider and wider.

a/n: i feel like this was all over the place at times, but i hope you all enjoyed nonetheless. i love the idea of a bratty taesan and idk this just checked all my boxes. (yes this was kind of self-indulgent but that's okay.)

#boynextdoor smut #bnd smut #boynextdoor hard hours #bnd hard hours #boynextdoor hard thoughts #bnd hard thoughts #taesan smut #taesan hard thoughts #taesan hard hours #taesan x reader #―୨୧⋆ ˚ fawns bookshelf 📚#𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ enjoy your meal! 🍩#₊˚⊹♡ managers special 🍓#♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ coming right up! 🧇

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rotagnus · 8 hours ago

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WHY YOU'RE A BAD BITCH.

pick a pile you feel drawn to. if you do not feel drawn to any, maybe this pac is not for you. trust your FIRST gut instinct. do not overthink it.

i didn't expect to make this pick a pile but i had a feeling that some people have been down in the dumps recently (as have i) and this would help the both of us.

-1. you're the epitome of elegance. you may not realize it, because you believe yourself to be a rather crude and perhaps blunt individual, but you do have a graceful femininity around you (whether you're male or female). think of the beauty of swans. your tongue is sharp and your wit is bright, and that fire emanates from your very looks. you're absolutely gorgeous--angular faced, maybe with almond eyes. you carry the steadfast power that horses do, galloping in fields. you're wild and free, and oftentimes people, specifically men, try to tame you. but you're a free person, and you don't take shit from NO-BO-DY. you can be read as intimidating and maybe cold, but the truth is you don't tolerate disrespect. you are strong. you get whatever you want, baby, all for good reason. <3

-2. your presence is SOOOO sooo felt. you underestimate how much people love you. the truth is there's a certain quality for you that just makes people adore you. you have a very unique personality and a very unique look to you (dyed hair, piercings, noticeable features, et cetera) and you flaunt this without feeling any shame about it. your confidence attracts people to you--you may not always feel confident but you're able to show it, and you BECOME it. you thrive with the right people, and this is seen as addicting. people want to be close to you and they can become obsessed with you (which can be a double edged sword). you shine so much, and your smile is to die for. TO DIE FOR.

-3. you have a melancholy heart and you're so sensitive to the suffering of everyone else. people want to take care of you and protect you. i think you're rather insecure about several aspects of yourself because people have recognized your glow, but not many have made it brighter. the qualities you have that would normally be fawned over are cast away. but you're a bad bitch regardless babe! your power is in your quietness. you give energy to people who deserve it. your presence is a mystery and you're like pandora's box. once somebody actually wants to get to know you, you open up and you have this beautiful way of being vulnerable, it makes people feel honored and trusted. you'll meet a lot of people later in life who want to be your knights, protect you. your softness makes you a bad bitch!! don't let anyone step over you.

-4. you have DISCIPLINE, darling pile 4. you want something? you work for it! you want to earn more cash? you work for it. you want to get healthier? you WORK for it! not only that, but you have a very beautiful figure--maybe on the thicker, curvier side. you probably have long hair, maybe curly, and GOD you're gorgeous. both of these qualities make you sooo irresistible. you're, by nature, a very caring person and people feel like they can open up to you. you don't make anybody feel ashamed about their emotions and you do care. this quality isn't normalized a lot in our society--you probably don't like being online very much, and you're a very real person. you have depth.

-5. you're very coy and you have this enticing, film-like quality to you. people feel like they're starring in some movie when they're with you. you accessorize a lot. you also have a tendency to fawn over people--you center them in a way that might be detrimental to yourself if you overdo it, but when you don't--you make people like you a lot. you probably have gorgeous, darker features. you remind me of a black cat, and you probably attract a lot of golden retriever like people into your life. you mighta went through something in your youth, but you're glowing and you don't let that drag you down. you're WORTHY. you're amazing. don't forget it babe.

-6. you've got a bit of a mischievous flair to you. you're a very funny person and you're QUICKKK to snap back with comebacks if need be. you don't dim your glow for anybody and you take pride in your roots. you may have a deep connection with your ancestors or members of your family, and there may be some generational trauma to unpack but that doesn't mean you can't find strength in your blood. you may have black hair and prominent nose--not necessarily big, but it's one of your prettiest and most noticed features. you have a warm presence that people suck up to. you're friendly and this quality makes people flutter over to you. your vibe is IMMACULATE.

#pick a card #love reading #pick a pile #tarot reading #pac reading #divine guidance #intuitive reading #pick a picture #pick a photo #tarotblr #tarot #reading #card reading #rotagnus

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dalishbarmitzvah · 9 hours ago

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(moving right on past the obvious and very bleak "lots of people will flat out never be persuaded to care about jews and the best you can hope for is that they are not actively happy about jewish suffering"...)

to sum up what follows (mostly, honestly, me wandering through my own work to understand), tldr:

people genuinely do not know. they do not seek out our stories, are not given them by sources they , being truly informed about current events is very complicated, and most people have poor critical reading skills, have not learned how to consume varied sources, and do not know how to synthesise from varied sources before coming to conclusions or forming strong opinions, nor do they feel that is a requirement

the 24 hour news cycle, digital news outlets, and social media have created a media news climate in which people are more likely to believe they know things than they are to actually be informed on things, and is more likely to both create and maintain echo chambers (now filled with people who believe that it would be impossible for them to be in an echo chamber)

goys are generally not incentivized to do the work to seek out or stay up to date on things involving jews, israel, or antisemitism, and are less likely to encounter them, less likely to engage with them deeply or deliberately or often, and are less likely to be able to recognize propaganda, falsehoods, stereotypes, and fearmongering present in any reporting they do encounter.

centrist news outlets are doing the world a major disservice by being largely silent about jewish issues or israel beyond the most bombastic headlines, and neither right-wing nor leftist outlets are picking up the slack in any honest way, as both peddle very narrow, very biased perspectives when and if they bother sharing them at all.

in regard to mainstream journalism at large: they are failing to do their actual jobs (thourough, nuanced, non-biased news coverage) largely because of the broken way that people get their news (see #2) and the ways in which that has deincentivized journalism from coverage of anything less likely to get clicks and views. people don't click on stuff they think is too confusing, not relevant to their lives, too boring, etc. 24 hour news becoming the norm means doing away with the kind of informed person who would read their daily or weekly paper(s) cover to cover (or at least all the actual news parts). that same person, faced with an endless barrage of articles to click on, can never finish reading, and is, therefore, less likely to start reading things that challenge them or their perspective than they might have been if they had encountered them in print. for the increasingly rare news-reading goy, this means less clicks on articles related to jewish or israeli issues, which in turn means that the sites they're clicking on are less likely to pay anyone to write those articles

many people get their news almost exclusively from their social media feeds, which are curated to show them more of what they've already engaged with, and less of anything else. video content condensing articles skimmed from sources trouble by everything i already mentioned is in no way a balanced news diet, but for a lot of people, that is all they get - alongside a chillingly common pressure to form and hold strong stances on basically every single issue you can possibly imagine, with negative social consequences for admitting you don't know or don't have an opinion on something.

in this context: people facing a constant barrage of overexposure to news and perspectives from all over the world are lead to believe that everything that is happening is something they're aware of, and, as a logical inverse, that if they haven't seen anything about something, that it may as well not exist, not be happening, and not be real. (again, see #2).

compassion fatigue. just like we can't know about everything, we also cannot care about everything. and, let's face it: not caring about jews comes very naturally to most goys. this is the part where i say that i understand your outrage, but on a very real, practical level, you must understand that we are a minority many people know next to nothing about (though they often think they know about us, which is another problem), and that goyim who do not share their lives or communities directly with jews who remind them of their jewishness fairly regularly are unlikely to be very aware of us or what we're facing.

so this is the one thing you can do something about: you can be unavoidably jewish in the lives of non-jews, and it will remind them that jews exist, that we are real and complex beings who are worthy of attention and love. you can discuss these issues, publicly or personally, and it will prompt them to learn more, and to see more in places they may not have seen it before otherwise. you can remain steadfast and informed, and you can share what you know, believe, and feel, with people who would otherwise never have a glimpse of it. you can succeed where major news outlets are failing: you can be the reason why at least a few people do know and do care. it will take patience, it will take work. it will not be easy, or painless, or short... but it will also not be thankless. be jewish. live jewishly. share your jewish perspective with people you are in community with. show them that you have it to offer, and encourage them to seek it. this, too, is tikkun olam.

aaand under the cut is the Long, Somewhat Meandering Version that i came back around and synthesized down into that still-too-long-still-didn't-read up there. in other words, that up there is the Post, and what follows is rough draft. it's worth keeping there enough for me, for my own notes, but it's a lot of words and they're not all in the best order, so.

OK. SO.

first off, it would probably help if sources that aren't israeli or jewish reported any of it. it's become very obvious to me that very few people, for reasons both more and less valid, trust israeli news sources, or seek them out. even people who read multiple american newspapers to get perspective on issues don't bother with reading outlets that are actually involved in events discussed directly. maybe if some more western journos would sprout some fucking integrity for once and source back or platform voices on the ground there, it would help a bit.

i mean, sure, plenty of people will never give a shit, either because they've got deep-seated antisemitic tendencies, or because they're just blindly apolitical (or, charitably, some perhaps because they're focused on their direct communities. i know some people really are that way, and honestly good for them). but i think, perhaps because jews are culturally raised to be critical readers who are deeply informed about the world around them, and trained from a very young age to see patterns and connections in things, that it doesn't occur to us that a lot of people are just profoundly not like that. as a result, it's easy to see antisemitism in places where it's actually genuine ignorance - and a lot of that is very difficult to combat.

it takes real, significant effort to seek out varied sources for your news, and it takes real, significant effort - not to mention learned, practiced skill! - to sift out a more holistic image of the truth by reading between the lines and seeing what is reported where and by whom and in what ways... and also what isn't. and what i keep seeing in my own critical news reading (which is far from fully comprehensive!) is that you have to go pretty far from the sources most people are most familiar with to see beyond a few very curated images of what's happening in israel, what's going on with the hostages, what's going on globally or domestically in america or in various places in europe with jews there, etc. we see the jewish story all the time, because we live it, and we look for it, and we know how to.

but the reality is that the average goy doesn't even know enough about jews, or israel, to know that not all jews are israeli or zionist, not all zionists believe the same things, not all israelis support everything the israeli government is doing all the time, and not all israelis are jewish. they frankly barely know what jews are, except that they are Other. so how could they possibly know enough to see patterns rippling throughout the entire world beyond in varied and nuanced and horrifying ways. they will never, ever see the patterns we see. they have not been trained to do so, and they are, by and large, not going to take the genuinely immense time and effort it takes to get to that point.

so, maybe they don't know because they

people only see what they see in the sources they do see (obviously) - and those sources are very, very narrow in what they report on. the only western sources that are talking about it are far right or so-"left"-we're-accidentally-reinventing-fascism-here-too type sources, and they paint the issue in the strokes that aids their preexisting perspective (which is never truly a human one for jews, nor for israelis). most people aren't going to be picking up the jerusalem post anytime soon, but they might read the new york times or the washington post or a local paper (or, more likely, watch cnn or msnbc. or fox. or whatever.). so they're only getting what those outlets report on - and they just really don't report much on the human details of things like this. so that's one thing that could be done - centrist sources could report more, could print journalism that's closer to the source more often. but people might skip those articles. i've read studies that indicate that's exactly what people do - that digital newspapers specifcally make it so much easier for people to simply never encounter or engage with stuff outside their bubble, because you choose what to click on, and you choose when to stop, and so few people read "the whole paper" anymore (or even could, considering how many things are just published scattershot, random articles dropping all throughout the day!) so it would help some if that reporting was better, but honestly, with the kind of shape that news media is in right now... that's far from straightforward.

but of course, that's only applicable to people who even consume primary news sources to begin with... and increasingly, i encounter more and more people who are willing to freely admit that they have opinions and thoughts and believe they know things about stuff they haven't even done the basic research or reading on. and frankly, i don't know how we deal with that! the news-opinions zeitgeist we're in right now is frankly weird as fuck: people are less educated, from less diverse sources, on average, while also feeling pressure to have strong opinions and thoughts that they cannot (and should not) possibly form on their own. the way so, so many people consume news increasingly from algorithmic social media streams has done immense damage - people intrinsically believe that shit they saw on tiktok is Reporting (there have been studies showing that people tend to view news/opinions coming from people they percieve as familiar to them as being more likely to be truthful, and that that translates to, y'know... people in your phone who absolutely you do not know in real life and should not be trusting that way!). carrying on from that: if they DON'T see something "reported on" within in their circle/on their feed, then that means it's not happening. not even just that they don't know about it, but literally that it's not real. because we all know everything about everything. all the time. it's right there. the algorithm feeds it to us constantly. people think that if something was happening, surely someone would have mentioned it to them by now. i don't think people are mostly aware of this, at all, either... and that makes it all the more insidious.

used to be, people knew that there was plenty they didn't know about, because they knew how hard it was to learn about things that happened far away.... but now, with anyone in the world* being able to hop on their smart phone and say 'hey i'm from the other side of the planet and here's what's happening here*' (*at least, allegedly)? i think people genuinely don't consider that things might be happening that they haven't heard about. we hear about everything, all the time. 24 hour news cycle. digital newspapers. tiktok influencers sharing bite-sized news stories distilled from articles you haven't read to know if they actually read them either, from sources you're not familiar enough with to discern how much trust to put in them. videos of people in the worst parts of war zones staring directly at you and begging you for help you cannot possibly give them. but most people don't see images of released hostages. they don't see headlines from israeli journalists - not the deep propaganda, and not the honest ones. they don't see images of israeli activists or protestors who are fighting alongside and for their palestinian neighbours. if they see anyone on the ground in the area at all, they see desperate begging, and they see hamas propaganda - and it never occurs to them that parts of this story are missing... because we all see everything all the time. if it were happening, if it were real, then we would know. surely, we would have seen it already.

it makes it all the more funny when you hear people spout off about how jews are controlling the media or israel is controlling america or whatever nonsense... like surely, if any of us, the israeli state included, actually were controlling any of that, they would make it a little bit harder for people to avoid ever knowing anything firsthand about any of it.

so what can we do?

we can help them see us, hear us, know us, and love us. not everyone, not the ones who refuse, not the ones who hate us and won't budge. but we can be present in our communities and visible to our colleages and friends.

people are not going to notice and not going to care about things they have no reason to notice or care about. they're not going to form a nuanced perspective on israeli politics or modern pogroms or whether or not ben shapiro has ever heard of pikuach nefesh or not. they're not going to understand what jews are and aren't, what we can be, what we have been, what's happening to us. they're not going to see news that isn't being reported where they get their news... unless they see YOU.

it can be maddening, to have such a tiny little impact, but also incredibly gratifying. i am one of the only visible jews in the small town where i live, and i am very visible, and i never, ever shut the fuck up about it. people who know me at all know that i am jewish, and by talking to me, i can help them understand, and learn, and pay attention, and be vigilant on our behalf. i have seen it work. i have heard people tell me that they started noticing antisemitism in news sources they used to read - and that they stopped trusting them because of it. i have had people ask me for where to look for more information on issues they had heard only whispers about and didn't trust their ability to google on their own (which i really, really appreciate). i have had people tell me how grateful they are to know me and to learn from me. without me, they would likely have either never been prompted to have those thoughts, or they would have never pursued them very far, because they would have lacked a trusted sounding board. i know, for a fact, that people on (mostly) all sides of the political spectrum around me have come closer to seeing jews, and to seeing jews as human, because of me.

i have helped leftists gain perspective on israel, showed them how to see through propaganda (israeli, hamas, and evangelical), how to notice antisemitic slogans and rhetoric, taught them about the realities of israeli mandatory service, shared about my mom's experience living on a kibbutz, taught them some of the history of zionism and of the state of israel. because of me, people i know are telling people i don't know that "from the river to the sea" derives from a sentiment of violent antisemitism, and because of me, people i know are aware that israeli activists and objectors who share their concerns about the israeli government exist and fight alongside their palestinian neighbours to make their country a better place, and they know that palestinians generally do not support hamas. and i have helped people more to the center and right learn more about all of that and more. i have taught people what judaism is, what it is to me, and what it is to people who are very different to me. i've taught them how someone can be secular, atheist, and still very much jewish. i've taught them about where those guys in funny hats fit into the continuum between the ba'al shem tov and me, how we are alike and how we are different - how we have been forced to change in different ways, to adapt. i've taught them about the history of zionist movements, about jewish anarchists and socialists, about pogroms, about talmud, about tu b'shvat. people who believed, before me, that eretz yisrael was an empty wasteland before the first zionist settlers arrived to bring it to life, and people who believed that it was a thriving arab community that faced a military invasion before the state of israel was established, both have a bit more perspective on a very complicated history, because of me. because i exist, because i will not touch money on shabbos, because i will not shut my mouth, because i wear my beard and my payos and i cover my head, because i am not ashamed of who i am, because i have taken the time to be educated and to unapologetically assist in the education of others, people in my small town in the pacific northwest know about israel as a real place, and jews as a real people - whether or not we live there, and in all our many, many complex and nuanced perspectives on it.

i don't mean to tokenize yourself or reduce yourself to being a public service. but i do mean to push back when you hear someone discussing an even they've clearly only heard on very limited perspective on. i do mean that people who know they have at least one jewish friend (or acquaintance/community member/coworker/whatever) are more likely to notice, more likely to think critically, when things involving jews, or involving israel, are brought up. and to be clear: if you do this, you have to get really good at not telling people they're wrong or stupid, because people will shut down if you do that. you have to learn how to show people that their perspective is lacking without just telling them that they're ignorant. no one wants to listen to someone who's just telling them that they're a dumber, worse version of themselves than they realised. get really comfortable with asking people where they learned something or what they've been taught in the past, and then with how to break down and reconstruct from there, if necessary. honestly, once people feel safe to not know things around you, it gets much easier for you both to simply fill in the gaps.

and i guess, what i mean is that every single day that a goy learns what tikkun olam is and what it means to jews, that that does a very real bit of the work of tikkun olam, because you have helped create a goy who knows something about jews, and what they know now is that our culture teaches us that the world is beautiful and it is broken and it is our sacred duty to help mend it.

so, to answer your question: that's what it takes. it takes remembering that the world is made up of so many little pieces, so many souls, so many fractured little shards that were once contained within spheres that once emanated from the same great oneness - and it takes reminding other individual little shards that they are also a part of the same thing as you, that you come from the same place they do... and that your paths to and from that great oneness are different, and none of them less beautiful than any other.

you can try and fail forever to mend the whole world in one day, and never make any real progress, and it will crush your soul into an even finer powder as you do.

there will always be some people do not care about us because they hate us, or at least, they believe that they do because they have been taught to, but i do not believe they will ever be the majority. most goyim do not care so much about us, simply because they haven't realised that they could love us, because they haven't gotten to know us, because they don't even know how much they would like to. if we are going to reach those goyim before the hateful ones do, we just have to keep at it.

and so long as we do not, in fact, control the media, i'd say we have a lot more chance of changing things, changing how and if people see us, by simply refusing to get out of their line of sight. it is much, much easier to hate or to hurt someone you can't see and don't know. stay where they can see us. become a welcome sight. teach them how to see what we see. the world is not illuminated by guarding of the flame, but rather by the kindling of others from it.

be light. share light. don't ever buy into the isolating darkness and its insistence that we are alone in a silent and unfeeling world, because we are not, and that only benefits those who would seek to destroy us. we are not alone, and we do not have to be alone. the universe is not doomed to a shattered eternity.

(and as for your grief and your anger? direct that at the people who benefit from all of us little people remaining ignorant of each other, remaining divided. goodness knows, there are certainly plenty of them. and i, for my own little part, do not intend to give them the satisfaction.)

Jewish hostages emerge from 16 months of underground captivity emaciated, broken and bewildered, looking for all the world like concentration camp survivors, and the world is silent.

Returned female hostages give graphic and horrifying accounts of sexual assault and torture, and the world is silent.

Antisemitic abuse and hate crime has skyrocketed, Jews are traumatised and terrified and in deep pain, that is celebrated and laughed at, and the world is silent.

THE WORLD IS SILENT.

WHAT WILL IT ACTUALLY TAKE FOR PEOPLE TO GIVE A SHIT??

I just don’t understand. I never will.

#genuinely i am sorry if this is a total hijacking. right post right time to get me Thinking and Feeling. anyway.#i understand your post was probably just venting and i do not intend to take that from you in any way

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