#been working on this for a few days and i’m just. emotional

[xx-reverie-xx]

Hihi!! I just read your Sevika HCs and I absolutely love them!! I wanted to know if you could (please) write HCs for Sevika and Vi after an argument with their partner? :) Whether it’s an argument the reader started or they started can be completely up to you! Or you could even do both scenarios if you prefer! 💕

Thank you and I hope you have a nice day/evening 💖

🖤Sevika and Vi after an Argument🖤

men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni

🤎Sevika🤎

I don’t think arguments would be common in a relationship with Sevika.

When she locks into a serious relationship, she means serious. She covers all the important bases for a healthy relationship; communication, loyalty, respect, trust, and so much more.

Covering these bases, especially communication, helps to avoid frequent arguments.

It won’t completely cut out the occasional argument though.

When you two do argue, it’s almost always about bigger things. For example, her working so much and not taking much time for herself, or maybe her drinking and smoking.

Post-argument time usually has as “how can we avoid this in the future” moment where you guys have a heart to heart about whatever started the argument.

If you start an argument:

Be prepared to apologize first. And only apologize if you’re really sorry.

You should always finish what you start, after all.

Your apology may be met with an affectionate an eye roll and a huff.

She never stays mad at you for long.

Once you apologize she usually makes space for you wherever she’s sitting and wraps her arm around just to let you know it’s really okay.

If you’re just apologizing because you feel like you need to, don’t. She can see right through you if you’re bullshitting her.

If you’re stubborn like her, sometimes apologizing can genuinely be difficult. She gets that. Which is why her patience with you is a blessing.

Again, when you’re ready to apologize , she’s affectionate and accepts it.

If she starts an argument:

This woman is stubborn. For her to apologize, it just doesn’t feel right.

She’s only ever been truly sorry a few times in her life. In the Undercity, living a life like hers, she never had time to be sorry.

Being sorry gets you hurt. It gets you killed.

But…

It’s obviously different when it’s you. You aren’t a big bad wolf waiting around the corner. You’re her partner, her ride-or-die.

In the heat of the moment, what she said felt right. It felt like something you needed to hear.

The thought of you feeling hurt by something she said just eats her alive.

She comes to you first.

It isn’t anything crazy, usually just a simple, gruff “I’m sorry.”

She’s awkward and stiff about it, but completely genuine.

Asks what she can do to make it up to you, if anything.

❤️Vi❤️

Violet runs hot. She isn’t a loose cannon but someday’s it can be hard trying to keep all of her emotions under wraps.

This has definitely lead to arguments over petty things like dishes in the sink or eating the last of her favorite snack.

It’s also lead to arguments about very serious things. Her pit fighting, drinking, and her occasional impulsivity.

Arguments always hit her hard, even the petty ones. No matter how old she gets, arguments always make her feel like a little kid, just waiting for the ball to drop. The ball being losing you.

That feeling of dread, like this argument could be the last, if that makes sense.

Physical touch is usually present in the make up process after an argument. It helps ground her.

The good news is, the two of you always make up very quickly.

If you start an argument:

If the argument is a petty spat about dishes or snacks, she still apologizes first, albeit rather begrudgingly.

This links back to her feeling like this argument could be the last. What if she never hears “You promised you’d take out the trash this week” ever again?

You, however, shut that down. “It’s my fault, I should be the one apologizing.” You tell her.

These arguments are extremely easy to come back from because you two are always on the same level. Two halves to make a whole, equals

There isn’t a point in staying hung up on petty nonsense for long.

If you start a big argument, you apologize first.

She distances herself and you have to go to her.

You’ll usually find her someplace where she shouldn’t be, like a bar. Or, you might find her someplace safe, like with Loris or another friend she feels comfortable around.

Not only should you apologize, but it would also be a good chance to thoroughly explain why you’re upset or might think something is a bad idea.

Once you do that, she’ll open her arms up to you and usually things can be resolved somewhat easily after that.

If she starts an argument:

Again, she apologizes first.

If she starts an argument, big or small, the dread of possibly losing you over this hits her like bricks.

For smaller arguments, she approaches you casually. If you let her, she’ll wrap her arms around you. An apology hug, if you will.

Says, “I’m sorry, baby,” in the softest voice she can muster.

These smaller arguments are always easier to come back from just because she’s so sweet. How can you ever stay upset when she’s such a sweetie?

Big arguments are something else though.

After she’s said whatever it is that she’s said, the weight of it all is suffocating.

If she said something really stupid and hurtful in the heat of the moment, she might need some space for a bit. Things like that take her back to that day.

But she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

May or may not have a little gift for you for extra measure. Usually it’s something simple like your favorite candy bar.

She tells you she’s sorry and explains why she got so worked up. Usually this leads to a steady and warm embrace and you let her know it’s okay.

hello!!! thank you for the request ♥️ please let me know if you enjoyed it or not. i had so much fun writing these. i kind of got carried away with vi’s headcanons 🙈. . i was purposefully vague about what started the argument so you can sort of imagine your own scenario for why the argument started!🎠

ask box is open for multiple fandoms and nearly every arcane character! check my pinned for rules, fandoms, and characters.

[glossykissies]

scottys reaction to u wantin his babiezz :3

he always has to be the wise one because he’s a little older than you, bigger than you, smarter than you. it had been a new obsession of yours, probably the product of a few pregnancy videos making its way onto your for you page on tiktok or seeing a tiny pink knitted cardigan fit for a newborn at the thrift store that had set you off — suddenly making it your life’s mission to get impregnated by scott.

but that’s just what it was, a little mission. a phase. he was convinced you liked to push the boundary with him because you were spoiled and wanted to see just how far he’d go to give you what you want. he knew damn well you couldn’t handle a baby right now. you just wanted to be creampied.

he’s barely got his jacket off once he’s through the door to your shared apartment, your needy hands pulling at his clothes all whiny and pouty.

“dont start.” he warns, which to your ears means — go.

“wan’a baby. want your babies.” you slur, voice thick and mewly with need from waiting around for him all day. you really needed to get some new hobbies.

“what’d i say, huh?” he entertains the conversation, large veiny hands skilfully undoing his thick black belt to hopefully subdue your whinging, showing you that he’s somewhat going to give you what you’re pleading for, some dick.

“you don’t get it scotty, i’d look so cute pregnant!” you’re honestly getting a little teary, and when you work yourself up like this — it often means you need him to step up and be firm with you to a) put you in your place, and b) give you that emotional release. it was a science. scott could do science.

he’s manhandling you effortlessly in an instant, not even really trying to rough-house you when he wraps a hand around your upper arm and turns you around, then grabbing at your waist to bend you over the same table he’d dropped his keys on. as he does so, he talks. “i don’t know how many times i need to tell you that you cannot handle a baby right now. you are a god damn baby.”

you let out a little sad cry and he does feel a little bad, crushing your dreams like that — but as soon as he yanks your panties down and you’re widening your stance a little to part your sticky folds, looking round at him curiously from where your cheek was pressed to the table, he forgets the feeling. “jesus. ‘you just sit around thinking about me knocking you up all day while i’m making us all the money?” he makes it sound like a complaint, but really his cock is pressing so hard against the black fabric of his cargos he thinks it could soon tear a hole.

“i do other stuff.” you use the last of your brain power to protest. he spreads your fat folds with his thumb and your knees buckle.

“is that right?”

“no.” you submit easily and he presses his lips together with a tight smile, shaking his head lightheartedly as he pulls his cock out.

“yeah, didn’t think so.”

[luvismenu]

09 — miss your touch ✎ ,, index

nsfw warnings: kissing.

note: she's not pregnant you guys dw 😭

wc: 3.4k

a week.

it's been a week since you've seen jungkook.

there were a few texts from him, asking if you were okay, but nothing beyond that. you answered with short replies; a yes or a no. sometimes, you asked how he was, and he'd say he's okay. but there’s a clear shift now, an invisible line drawn between you two.

a line you’d already crossed once but now seem to be retreating behind. back to where you started; strangers who just happened to share something.

you might’ve overreacted.

the thought stings, but yeah, maybe you did. he wasn’t even that late. you believe him when he said he had to deal with something. that something being a female, it’s not like he hid it. still, for reasons you can’t explain, just thinking about it makes you roll your eyes.

but he came straight to you after that.

and you know jungkook doesn’t lie. at least, that’s what you’ve learned about him in these two months.

two months.

it’s been two months, and yet here you are, acting as if he’s yours.

he isn’t.

and that’s good. you don’t want a relationship. you never did. relationships are nothing but unnecessary stress or drama. or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

you can’t let jungkook fall into the “relationship” category. but calling him your casual fuck buddy feels off, because you’re both closer than that now. thinking of him as just a friend, though... that feels wrong. unnatural, even.

it’s so complicated.

it shouldn’t be. but it is.

sometimes, it feels like he doesn’t care. you wish he’d show more emotions, something more than his usual calm, nonchalant demeanor.

it feels like you’re the only one overthinking this while he’s just... fine. unaffected.

why do i feel like a wreck? is it just me? you wonder.

you don't wanna miss his touch.

you don't wanna miss him.

but you miss him more than you want to admit.

and now, you don’t even know how to approach him. things feel so awkward. you’re not sure how to cross that line you’ve suddenly drawn.

a week without seeing him feels like forever. especially when, for the past two months, he’s been part of your every day. whether it was texts or calls, he was there.

which is why you’re here. at the business expo everyone’s been working so hard for.

you don’t know much about it, just the bare minimum yoongi mentioned. apparently, other majors can attend as long as they say they’re interested in learning something.

as if. you would never attend something like this.

but for him? for jungkook?

you’re here anyway.

jungkook feels like a wreck.

he misses you.

a lot.

but at the same time, he thinks he needed that break. from everything. a week isn’t much, but it gave him enough space to clear his head.

iseul tried to contact him again. he blocked her number.

then she tried to approach him in person. he blocked her out of his life too.

he knows she’s probably furious, and maybe even hurt, but he couldn’t let her keep dragging him into the same cycle. not anymore.

“jungkook, i’m sorry, honey, i didn’t mean to snap at you that day—” she said, her voice was soft, almost pleading.

but he cut her off, firm and final, his words heavy but deliberate.

“i think it’s for the best if we move on now.”

he couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth, but for once, he didn’t regret them. saying it felt like a weight had been lifted, one he’d been carrying far too long.

it wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

now, though?

all he can think about is you.

you told him you were fine now. the conversations between you two since then have been brief, surface level, and awkward. it feels like a wall has been built, and though neither of you acknowledges it, it’s there.

jungkook wishes you’d talk to him soon, break through whatever tension is lingering.

when you told him to leave that day, he froze for a moment. it stung, but he understood. if you needed space, he’d give it to you. the last thing he wanted was to make things harder for you when you were already unwell.

but he feels awful.

all he did was add to your stress, and now the guilt is eating at him. he’s ready to do anything—absolutely anything—to make things right with you, to hear you say you forgive him.

yet, it feels strange.

why does he feel this way about you?

whatever this is between you, it was supposed to be no strings attached. that was the deal. you both made it clear from the beginning. but somewhere along the line, things shifted. you’re not just a hookup to him anymore. you’re so much more than that, though he’s not sure how to define it.

he wonders if he should set boundaries, remind himself of what this arrangement is supposed to be. but it’s hard—impossible, even. every time you’re together, he’s drawn to you. it’s like you’ve got this pull on him, and he doesn’t even want to resist it.

he doesn’t wanna miss your touch.

and right now?

right now, he just misses you. everything about you.

“jungkook, is that you?” a voice cuts through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. jungkook turns, searching for the source of the familiar voice.

“ah, it is you!”

his lips twitch into a smile when he spots the person approaching him.

“jin hyung,” he says, a little surprised to see him.

jin strides up to him, pulling him into a firm hug and patting his back.

“took you long enough to show up,” jungkook says as they pull apart, raising a brow.

jin lets out a dramatic sigh. “had to deal with things, you know how it is,” he says, waving a hand before flashing a grin. “but hey, i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you are,” jungkook replies, shaking his head lightly, though the smile on his face betrays the faint scolding in his tone.

“oh, come on,” jin says, feigning offense. “is that it? is that all the welcome i get? give me a proper one! i am one of the guests tonight, after all.”

his grin grows wider, and jungkook can’t help but chuckle at his hyung’s playful energy.

where is jungkook?

you're in the auditorium, surrounded by bustling booths, neatly arranged tables, and groups of students passionately discussing their projects. you didn’t realize business majors went all out for an expo like this.

you feel like yelling his name at the top of your lungs. you've been walking around, searching through a sea of unfamiliar faces, but you can’t find him anywhere.

“uh, hey,” you say, tapping a guy’s shoulder, interrupting his conversation.

woah, this guy has really broad shoulders.

he turns around, and you’re momentarily taken aback. the man is tall, dressed in a suit that looks like it was tailored for him, glasses framing his handsome face, and hair styled perfectly.

“yes?” he asks, polite but slightly curious.

you hesitate, then decide to go for it. “do you know where i can find jungkook? i mean, jeon jungkook? he’s supposed to be here somewhere,” you say, unsure if he even knows who jungkook is. but you’re desperate now.

his lips curl into a small smile. “why, of course. i was just speaking with him a few minutes ago. he excused himself to use the restroom, so he should be back shortly.”

“thank you,” you reply quickly, already preparing to make your way toward the direction of the restrooms. maybe, just maybe, you’ll bump into him as he’s walking back.

“are you one of his friends?” the man asks suddenly, stopping you from taking a step forward.

you glance at him, unsure how to respond. “uh... yes, kinda. sure,” you say awkwardly. you catch the faint arch of his brow, as if your answer only piqued his curiosity more.

why didn’t i just say yes? you mentally scold yourself, feeling ridiculous.

clearing your throat, you quickly excuse yourself.

"excuse me,” you mumble before turning and walking away, hoping the restroom isn’t far and jungkook will finally appear.

you walk through the rows of booths, still scanning the area for any sign of jungkook. the loud chatter of students and the hum of discussions fill the air, but all you can focus on is the thought of finding him.

as you near the restrooms, you catch a glimpse of a familiar figure standing by the entrance, hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture relaxed yet somehow tense.

it’s him.

your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes you. he looks as good as ever, effortlessly drawing your eyes to him. he’s wearing a sharp black suit that fits him perfectly, making him look every bit as important as you’re sure he is. he must be a key figure in this expo, you think.

all you know is that he’s supposed to give some kind of presentation. that’s it. nothing more. you didn’t bother to find out the details because, honestly, none of it matters to you.

all you want right now is to see him.

you walk towards him, taking slow steps, unsure how to act. you haven't seen him in what feels like forever, and all that awkward tension you’ve been trying to ignore creeps back up.

when he notices you, his eyes widen for just a second before a small smile breaks across his face. it’s a smile you haven’t seen in a while.

“hey,” he greets you.

you nod, trying to keep your cool despite the rush of emotions. “hi,” you say, feeling your heart race. you look at him, searching his face for any clue about how he’s been, but you can't tell much.

“i didn’t think you’d show up,” he admits, his gaze flickering over you. “thought you were gonna skip it.”

“just wanted to see what this is all about.” you say, trying to sound casual

he chuckles softly, his eyesglancing down. “didn’t expect you to be interested in this stuff.”

“well, i’m not,” you say, feeling the need to explain yourself. “but i wanted to see you. jungkook.”

there’s a brief moment of silence as his expression shifts, and you can’t tell if he’s surprised or if he’s just been waiting for you to say something. his eyes meet yours, and there’s an intensity there that makes you second guess every word you just said.

“i’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he says quietly, stepping a little closer. “i know things have been... off. and honestly—”

loud chatter in the background interrupts him, making both of you exchange a quick glance before he speaks up again.

“follow me.”

you follow him without thinking. the sound of people fading away as you walk through the crowd. he leads you to what feels like an empty lecture hall, making sure to lock the door behind you. you stand there, waiting for him to speak, the quiet now heavy between you two.

“i know things have been different recently,” he starts again, his voice soft. “and i honestly don’t know why...” he sighs. “but i want to apologize for that day. i’m really sorry.”

you swallow, trying to steady yourself. “i forgive you,” you say, your voice steady, but there's still an uncertainty in your chest.

“really?” he looks at you, his gaze searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“yeah,” you nod, “i was just sick and i guess i overreacted a little, i’m sorry for that.”

he shakes his head quickly. “you didn’t. you didn’t overreact.”

a quiet but heavy silence fills the space between you both.

“so, uh, cool event,” you say, trying to break the tension.

“don’t act like you care,” jungkook smiles, the familiar smirk finally making its way onto his face.

you smile too, shrugging lightly. “yeah, i don’t.”

there’s another brief silence. you’re not sure what to say next, the awkwardness still lingering in the air. what if he’s going to end things? what if he’s had enough? what if.

“jungkook, i—”

his lips are on yours before you can even finish your sentence. the kiss catches you off guard, but his arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you in, and any hesitation melts away. his warmth seeps into you, grounding you in the moment as his lips move against yours with a desperate sort of tenderness.

you don’t pull back. instead, you let yourself fall into it, let him guide you. the kiss deepens, and with it, the questions and uncertainties that had been weighing you down dissolve, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him. here, now, with you.

when you finally pull back, your chest heaves as you gasp for air. your mind is racing, your heart pounding in your chest. you don’t know how to respond. a part of you wants to spill everything; how much you’ve missed him, how unbearable the distance has been, how empty you’ve felt without his touch. but the words catch in your throat, like they're stuck somewhere.

“i’m sorry, i…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. his hands don’t leave your waist, holding you close as if afraid you might slip away. “i missed you.”

those three words hit harder than you expect, stirring something deep inside you. warmth spreads through your chest, a quiet comfort you didn’t realize you’d been craving.

it’s simple, almost too simple, but it feels like it’s enough. like it’s the answer to everything that’s been weighing on your heart; the confusion, the space, the silence between you two. suddenly, none of it matters.

“you missed me?” you ask softly, your voice trembling just slightly. it’s as if you need to hear him say it again, to be sure you’re not imagining it.

he nods, his eyes locked on yours. his voice is gentle. “yeah, i did.”

you stare at each other for a moment, the air between you thick with many unspoken feelings. then, without thinking, you lean in, closing the distance as your lips find his. your arms wrapping around his neck as if pulling him closer could erase all the time you spent apart. he responds immediately, his lips pressing against yours with equal fervor, like he’s been waiting for this.

your right leg slides up instinctively, brushing against his hip, and he understands your silent request. his hands move to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he lifts you effortlessly. your legs wrap around his waist, and his strong hands shift to cup your ass, holding you securely against him. the closeness sends a rush of heat through you, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

the kiss deepens, his tongue teasing against your lips until you part them, granting him access. his tongue brushes against yours, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of warmth straight to your core. you hum softly into the kiss, the sound vibrating between you, and his grip on you tightens.

he places you on the nearby desk, his lips never leaving yours. his hands grip your waist, keeping you steady. your fingers slide down to his chest, gently gripping his shirt as if holding on for balance. he pulls back for a brief moment, giving you both a chance to catch your breath.

without hesitation, he shrugs off his blazer, carelessly tossing it to the floor. the sound of it hitting the ground barely registers as his hands return to you, cupping your face with a tenderness that contrasts the heat between you. his lips find yours again, urgent yet soft, and you let him take control, your hands moving to cup his face too.

your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and you can feel his soft bulge pressing against you. the sensation is enough to make your breath hitch, and you instinctively tilt your hips toward him, craving more of the pressure.

he pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, “you drive me crazy.”

oh fuck.

“what—” you start to ask, but the sound of knocking interrupts you.

both of your heads snap toward the door, your bodies tense.

“jungkook!? you in there?” a familiar voice calls out, loud and clear.

jungkook immediately recognizes it and clears his throat, trying to steady his voice. “yes! jin hyung, i’m here.”

“i’m about to give my speech, so you better be there asap!” jin’s voice is full of its usual dramatic flair. “i came all the way here for this moment, and i don’t want you to miss my glory.”

you hear his footsteps retreating, his words lingering in the air.

jungkook exhales, his head leaning slightly forward until it rests against your forehead. his hands remain on your waist, his touch warm, grounding you in a moment that feels anything but steady. he mumbles under his breath, almost as if he’s scolding himself. “of all the times…”

your heart races, and your mind spins in circles. what does he mean by you drive him crazy? the weight of those words presses down on you, heavy and confusing.

“jungkook,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “i think you should go.”

he lifts his head to look at you, his brows furrowing slightly. the regret in his eyes is unmistakable.

maybe i shouldn’t have said that. he thinks as he takes a small step back, creating a gap between you that suddenly feels too wide.

“are you going to stay?” he asks cautiously, his voice softer now.

you open your mouth to answer but hesitate. you don’t know what to say. this was never part of your plan. all you wanted was to see him, to tell him you were sorry too. but now, standing here with him, everything feels so much more complicated.

“___,” he says your name gently, snapping you out of your daze. your gaze meets his, and he blinks at you, his expression searching.

“i know things have changed between us, and—”

“what do you mean? we’re fine, though,” you cut him off quickly, the words spilling out as if saying them will make them true.

he lets out a heavy sigh, “are we?”

the question catches you off guard. your frown deepens as uncertainty settles in your chest.

are we?

your silence answers for you, and he notices. he always notices.

“it’s okay,” he says softly, almost like he’s trying to soothe you. “i don’t know how to deal with it either.” he pauses, his voice quieter. “i don’t know what we are right now.”

what are we?

the words echo in your mind, and you hate how much they hurt. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you never wanted it to turn into this mess.

“i think…” you start, and his eyes are on you immediately, waiting, hoping you’ll say something that will make this all easier.

“...i should go.”

you don’t miss the way his shoulders drop just slightly, the smallest sign of defeat. you hesitate for a moment before sliding off the desk, your movements stiff and uncertain.

you gulp, forcing yourself to meet his gaze one last time. “good luck with your presentation,” you say softly. you linger for a second, watching him, hoping he’ll say something to stop you. but all he does is nod, his response quiet and unreadable.

with a deep breath, you turn around and walk toward the door. every step feels heavier than the last.

behind you, jungkook exhales a long, weary sigh, running a hand through his hair.

did i mess it up? he wonders, his chest tightening with something he doesn’t know how to name.

a/n: um haha.... jin with glasses yay!! 🏃🏻‍♀️

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @hoseokteardrop

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @internetrando64 @jkvias @134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097

[endereies]

PICK YOUR POISON - CS / MS

No Nut November - Day 26

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ After Chris stood you up again, you went to Matt which led to some unexpected results

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d spent tapping your feet on the cold wooded floors. You weren’t sure how many more complimentary breadsticks you could have before you had to start paying. You weren’t sure if he was even coming.

The battery on your phone had deteriorated from a full charge throughout the night, you didn’t have Chris to entertain you. It was pathetic. Your own boyfriend had left you sitting at the restaurant, with only a wine bottle as company. The skin around your nails had been long destroyed by the edge of your teeth, gnawing at him impatiently.

With the amount of stress your studies had given you, the invitation to dinner was accepted with ease. He asked you when he noticed the strain of your behaviour, your eyes squinting past the fatigue. Knowing he set the date for only a week away, you restocked on his favourite perfume of yours. That ended up being reapplied throughout the night.

A waiter, the one who had realised the problem early on, had returned to your table. “Miss? Are you alright, would you like another drink.” The place as empty enough that you didn’t have to be forced out your seat but with people staring at you from around the room, they didn’t have to.

“I’m okay, thank you. I should take my leave to be honest. I appreciate it though.” You pulled your dress down as you reached for the small purse by your feet, wrapped around your ankle. It felt awkward enough to shuffle off the chair in silence, your hand not taken by Chris’. “How much was the wine?” The click of the purse was followed by the crashing of coins in your wallet.

“On the house, after tonight, it’s the least I could do.” She tried to be sweet, she really had. It was too much which resulted in a bittersweet smile and sagged shoulders. “Thank you.”

The chill of the night wasn’t helping your dampened spirits. Goosebumps rose to your skin and not even the warmth of your palm could subside it.

“C’mon, c’mon…” The ‘brr’ tone from the phone just left you desperate. Maybe he was hurt, maybe you were mad for stupid reasons. He didn’t pick up for a while. Why did he have to make you worry?

That went away when he answered, drunk.

You weren’t listening to the multiple calls of your name; the slur told you everything. Rage was quickly replaced with pity, for yourself.

You’d lost count at how many times he had abandoned you like this. The excuses started to be realistic.

‘My work meeting ran late’

‘ I think I got food poisoning’

‘I thought I booked it for next week instead’

But this time? He chose partying instead, you could practically smell the gin on his lips. Just as you did every time.

“Y/n? you there?!” His voice reverberated in your ears, his voice echoing in your mind. You just didn’t have it in you to hide your anger.

“You forgot, fucking prick” The end dial rung in a pleasant comparison to his voice. Disappointment ran through your veins more than rage, that emotion disappeared a long time ago.

The wind picked up, blowing the ends of your hair through the wind. Lines of brick pressed against your back, out the way of strangers walking by. Several options ran through your mind simultaneously and you chose the safest one. Calling Matt. Not only would you not have to spend money on an anxious ride, but you’d get company. You had enough of being alone tonight.

“Hey? How’s the date” High hopes and promise trailed through his voice, besides the obvious mouthful of chips. When he was met with a wall of silence and a shaky breath, he understood. He always did. “Right… want to send me your location.”

“I didn’t even ask anything from you?”

“You didn’t have to, my house or yours?” For the first time in a few hours a laugh slipped past and dispersed into the air. Solemn but honest. “Yours, please.”

He quietly hummed in acknowledgement, shovelling a few chips into his mouth to finish them off so he could hurry in your direction. You pressed the ‘end call’ button for him and leant your head on the line of bricks, the air of your breath mingling into the coldness. By now you assumed you would end up in your house, or the warmth of Chris’ bed, not the concrete.

A few strangers offered you a smile as you stood there, headphones covering your ears. At least they were warm.

Suddenly the honk of a horn made you meet eyes with matt, his arm hanging out the window, calling you with his hand. “Get in! Its fucking freezing out here.”

A wide smile crossed your face at the thought of being in that warmth your fingers started to crave and when the car door shut, you weren’t disappointed.

“Hey, uh- the heating is on and… here.” He leant into the seat behind him and gave you a hot water bottle that had a cute fluffy cover. “I made that while I got ready, is that warm enough or-?”

“Ahh thanks Matt, this is perfect.” Both of your hands immediately shoved themselves directly onto it, hugging it to your chest. He chuckled at the sight and began to reverse out of the temporary parking space.

“How long were you there for?” Matt tried to express how sincere he was when asking but when trying to focus on the road during night, that grew difficult.

“Oh- like… maybe two hours? I kinda lost count. I ended up on TikTok for a while”

“Two hours?! Oh sweetheart, you should’ve called me earlier.” You shrugged, too tired to shut down his offer.

“I guess I was hoping he would show up.” He couldn’t deny the reasoning behind your words, but he also knew how much it hurt you. Only now could he see the devastation on your face, thankfully no signs of tears. Guess the tissues he packed weren’t necessary anymore, they use to be.

His house was warm too, inviting. The goosebumps had subsided by now. You took this free time as a chance to grab a wipe from your bag and get rid of the makeup that was scattered on your face. Your lipstick was long gone with the amount you bit your lips out of habit, yet the deep eyeshadow remained resolute.

You had been laying on the sofa for the same amount of time you were in the restaurant for, a random sitcom entertaining you and Matt while you talked. Your heels were sporadic on the floor along with your purse. A loose hoodie over your shoulders, it wasn’t Chris’.

The silence was quickly broken by the front door crashing open. You sobered up a little when Matt jolted beside you. The late hour pushed Chris home, stumbling. The motion lights stayed on, shadowing his face from you. You didn’t need to see him, you wanted to hear him, an apology. One that would never come.

“The fuck you mean forgot?” He stated his words loudly, reciting  your points from the phone call.

“You left me Chris, again. You promised me a date night, I waited for you. For near enough two hours!” Why didn’t he seem sorry? Now the tears begun to start. The pit in your stomach clenched harder, the breath harder to get into your lungs. It felt so expelled with disappointment.

“Sorry.” Spoken like a child that was forced to say it. He just stood there. How could he stand there like nothing happened.

“You know what Chris, I am done! Done with your stupidity, done with your lies and I’m done with your cowardness.” Rage filled your body fast. You weren’t sure what to do, but you just wanted him to know how it felt to be betrayed by someone, someone he cared about.

You took a glance at Matt who just sunk into himself as much as he could, he didn’t want to intrude. As you picked up your heels and purse from the floor, the hoodie became prominent in your mind. So did a plan. Without any hesitation, your hand gripped Matt’s jawline, pushing him towards you. You both met into a kiss, one neither of you pulled away from. He didn’t pull back until you did, he was too stunned to do anything else. Other than focus on the unexpected taste of cherries.

“What the fuck!?” Chris’ voice deterred your mind from going too far and with that you left.

The brothers were in for a long night.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckers @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @zariyamitchell-blog @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @slutf4rmatt @flouvela @lovesturni0l0s @2prcntmilkluvr @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[homestuckreplay]

Today Is A Gift, That’s Why They Call It The Present: Who Is Jade Harley?

Character Deep Dive 4 – 11/26/2009

Jade Harley, the silliest and most unknowable of Homestuck characters. Jade’s first pesterlog appearance was way back on page 110, and her existence and involvement in forces beyond our real world comprehension has been teased ever since – but it took hundreds of pages and months of real time waiting for Jade to finally become a point of view character. Just like with Rose and Dave, what we learn from Jade’s pesterlogs isn’t a complete picture of who she is. Jade is excitable, bubbly and supportive in her conversations, aware that she’s seen as mysterious and working to cultivate that. As a point of view character it’s harder for Jade to maintain her own mystery, and we see a fuller spectrum of her emotions, as well as a picture of her day to day life. In many ways Jade’s life is easier than her friends’, but she has a few of her own challenges.

Organized by the list of Jade’s interests given on page 789, here’s a discussion of what we learn about Jade during the early part of act 3. It's about 5k words below the cut and only covers up to page 916 of Homestuck.

1 - You are an avid follower of CARTOON SHOWS OF CONSIDERABLE NOSTALGIC APPEAL.

Jade doesn’t spend a lot of time on this interest, but she surrounds herself in it by falling into her plushy pile before she uses her computer. She has posters on her walls for Squiddles and Green Slime Ghost, both of which were invented internally to Homestuck, unlike John whose bedroom posters are all for real world media. Jade also has a large number of Squiddle ‘Tangle Buddies’, and a squiddle and (blue) slime ghost are symbol options for her shirt.

Owning so much merchandise, Jade clearly isn’t embarrassed by this interest. As Rose’s shirt is a doctored Squiddle, Rose may have previously shared this interest, but moved on from it – Jade describes these shows as ‘nostalgic’ on both page 789 and 790, so she’s trying to hold onto these articles of her youth. They also give the sense of an eclectic taste; as they’re unfamiliar to the reader and no wider fandom is established for them, they feel like cartoons found only on budget TV channels or dusty corners of the internet. MS Paint Adventures being the only modern media we see her consume only enhances this.

Jade’s nostalgic media extends beyond board games, as her fetch modus options are common childhood board games. As well as retaining these childlike interests and playfulness, Jade is described by the narrative as ‘silly’ – a silly girl with silly antics and a silly name (p.760), a silly flute refrain (p.769), an awfully silly idea (p.774), and a silly girl with silly fortune telling knickknacks (p.802). As well as setting up a contrast between Dave (regularly described as ‘cool’, which by some logic is an antonym of ‘silly’), this feels like it diminishes her importance, casting her actions as entertaining but ultimately meaningless. Between pages 838 and 860, the story flips back and forth between the peril of Rose’s imminent meteors, and Jade whose only goal is to feed her pet.

There’s a surface impression that life is easy for Jade. She has a large, comfortable house, a sylladex she’s confident with, a guardian who she doesn’t hate and isn’t outright cruel, toys, space, safety from danger, mastery over all her own hobbies. From day one, John had to struggle with sylladex mechanics and retrieving his own arms, but Jade is unaffected even by the inconvenience of stairs, and is later shown as having more knowledge than the player. It almost feels like she’s spoiled by the narrator with this easier existence, which isn’t necessarily good for her, just like being spoiled by a parent might not be good for a kid. Ultimately, if there’s no sense that Jade needs to learn or overcome anything, she becomes less compelling – so I’m invested in noticing where she has room for growth.

2 - You have a profound zeal for marvelous and fantastical FAUNA OF AN ANTHROPOMORPHOLOGICAL PERSUASION.

In addition to her cartoon show posters, Jade has two pieces of furry art on her walls, plus a picture of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff as furries. This of course was a gift from Dave, the friend Jade sometimes discusses her furry tendencies with. These plus her FurAffinity account show an enjoyment of the furry aesthetic, but her relationship with being a furry is complicated, and something she adopts far less uncritically than her other interests.

Jade insists that she does not have a fursuit as they are ‘raggedy synthetic tufty piece[s] of crap’ and that dressing up like an animal ‘seems ridiculous’ (p.802). We don’t learn whether Jade has made a fursona or makes furry art of her own (vampireprincess007, the FurAffinity account Jade is looking at on page 834, doesn’t seem like a username she’d pick), but we get a sense of the ways Jade distances herself from the furry community. She thinks of combining the ‘finest qualities’ of humans and animals, wishing for ears and a ‘proud snout’ to ‘assist… in the hunt’. She also seeks a ‘more visceral sapience’ that is ‘untouched by the concerns and burdens of the upright’ (p.797). When she imagines being an animal, she wants to ‘run wild’ or ‘purr and frolic’ (p.802).

Jade collects Manthro Chaps, dolls with assortments of human and animal body parts who may have hands and flippers, snouts and mustaches. They have human names and attend events such as balls, need vaccinations, and take care of bodily needs in animalistic ways. Much like Jade’s desire for animal senses and experiences, Jade’s Manthro Chaps are a true physical merging of the human and animal. Jade does not want to wear the trappings of an animal if she can’t also have that biological change, and if she can’t develop that instinctive behavior of eating bugs, hunting, and losing the language and inhibitions of human existence.

Jade has a pet named Becquerel who is also her ‘best friend’ (p.791), and while we don’t know his species, it’s possible that spending so much time with him has fed into the desire to live like him. He also may not be a regular animal – both Dave and the narrator refer to him as a ‘devilbeast’ (p.382, 800) and he eats his steak not just well cooked, but irradiated. This could also be why her rifle’s ‘cross-hairs would never settle on an innocent creature’ (p.790). Jade is likely an animal lover in general, as she has this deep and considered understanding of how it must feel to be a different creature, and is very in touch with the natural world.

3 - You have an uncanny knack for NUCLEAR PHYSICS, and not infrequently can be found dabbling in RATHER ADVANCED GADGETRY.

Jade’s forays into gadgetry are all over her room, and she’s downplaying her own skill with ‘rather’. So far we know about Jade’s Wardrobifier, Atomic/Electic Bass with portable amp, Sonar boxes transmitting her music into the atrium, Cookalizer, Refrigerator, and Lunchtop. Her house also has several Transportalizers, although their designer is unknown. Jade’s orb and spire bed, the atomic cabinet beneath her room, the strange flat window device whose design she borrowed from her grandfather, and a host of other objects on her gadgets table are unknowns but it’s clear that just like Rose with her knitting, Jade is prolific, dedicated and puts a lot of time into her hobby.

Jade doesn’t feel constrained in the design of her technology. Sometimes she uses squares and cubes like those in the Skaianet labs, sometimes she’ll play on common designs by giving a refrigerator a rotary interface or adding extra heat settings to a cookalizer, and sometimes she’ll invent something with no relation to existing tech. Jade hits all the design notes – smooth and sleek vs greebled, futuristic vs retro vs encased in a lunchbox – so she’s willing to try different things.

We learn that for Jade, ‘experimentation is not a particularly exact science, and [she] lean[s] heavily on SHARP INTUITION for consistently and eerily optimal results’ (p.790), so she’s basically living the scientist’s dream of fucking around without having to find out. It’s a lot easier to take risks and experiment with an intuition that guarantees success. To what extent does Jade understand the theoretical principles of nuclear physics? When she can’t get something to work, like right now with the window device, what’s her troubleshooting process like? Is she used to working through this emotionally? Jade did claim to have worked on a present for John ‘for years!!!!’ (p.442) so I think that even if Jade has an intuitive understanding of design, she still has to do the work to put these gadgets together, which can be time consuming and technically difficult.

Jade’s interest in gadgetry is tied to an interest in music. Like her friends she is highly proficient in an instrument, but Jade’s is ‘heavily customized to accommodate a high level of musical virtuosity’ (p.821) – its ‘advanced setting’ has two sets of strings and three keyboards, which Jade can apparently handle from a musical perspective. I think this is something she’s worked at, because when she attempts to play the flute, the narration comments, ‘Maybe you should try playing an instrument you actually know how to play instead’ (p.770). If Jade’s music was entirely based on her intuition, picking up the flute would be easy. She’s also limited by her own physical form; the advanced bass cannot be played ‘in person’ (p.821), so only having two arms and five foot something of height feels like a bigger limitation in this hobby than her brain.

Despite being generally competent with technology, Jade is surprised by its misuse, shocked and angry when carcinoGeneticist trolls her despite her blocking them and logging out. Jade is not a gamer, knowing Sburb by reputation but not by name, and saying that John and Dave are ‘way more into all that stuff than i am!!!!’ (p.442), and therefore she’s not immersed in the gamer culture that leads to cruel online behavior. It’s nice to think that Jade, despite being an internet user, has escaped the cynicism and hatred that is common online and has found positive spaces for herself.

Jade is a proficient sylladex user, easily mastering technologies she didn’t make too. While John struggles with remembering how many cards he has free, Rose doesn’t realize she can pull the leave instead of the root, and Dave has to use Y as a consonant to get the hash map to work, Jade is educating the player on correct sylladex management and can perfectly guess the memory modus on the first try. But this has limitations, too. Jade captchalogues a pumpkin on page 778 and by page 785 it’s vanished, so Jade’s sylladex isn’t a safe storage place. In fact, her house is a hotspot for other people’s strange technology as well as her own, which I’ll discuss more later. Additionally, there are some problems that Jade can’t solve with technology. Any issues with her grandfather, for example, or with her remote location. Jade sends a parcel several months before its delivery date (p.442) and receives mail via hot air balloon (p.822) but for some reason has never invented a disappearifier that could instantly take her to a friend’s house. Despite her many talents, she remains stuck at home.

4 - You enjoy sporadic fits of NARCOLEPSY;

Jade is sleeping when we first meet her, so this is technically the first interest we see her engaging in. And the word ‘enjoy’ is crucial here. Most people do not enjoy their medical conditions, and regularly, uncontrollably dropping off to sleep can cause serious problems, but Jade treats this like many intentional nappers do, slumbering ‘peacefully’ such that it’s ‘a shame to wake her’ (p.760).

Jade doesn’t know the details of her condition. When she wakes, it’s sudden and ‘as usual, [she] ha[s] no recollection of having falling asleep’ (p.768) and in a conversation with Dave, he asks ‘do you even know if you are [asleep]’ (p.829). Jade is driven by impulse and intuition, and doesn’t question those impulses much. In a more extreme example, she doesn’t question her sudden falling asleep in inconvenient circumstances, but figures out how to work around it.

When John takes a rooftop nap between battles, Jade’s silhouette appears in his dreams (p.644) and when he wakes, she tells him ‘i really think you need to wake up first!… not literally, well ok maybe KINDA literally!!’ Jade’s connection to sleep goes beyond her narcolepsy, and she places importance on sleeping, waking, and possibly the balance between the two. Jade is defined by her faith in a higher power, so she probably trusts this same power with deciding when she should move between sleeping and waking. It’s also likely that Jade’s orb and spire bed has something to do with this interest.

It’s not possible for Jade to be woken with the player’s cursor (p.762) but it is possible to both put her to sleep and wake her up while she’s playing the flute (p.769) by pressing the Z key – which highlights how quickly she sleeps and wakes, because any other button has her bouncing right back up.

Sleep is crucial for health and relaxation; gardening and gadgetry both involve some manual labor, and Jade valuing sleep ties in with her enjoyment of nostalgic television, lying down in a pile of dolls, and carrying fresh fruits and vegetables. Despite her exterior silliness and forgetfulness, there’s a strong sense that Jade has internalized her grandfather’s lectures, and knows how to take care of herself and her pet – she cares about health and safety, and even though she programmed an ‘explosion’ setting on her cookalizer, she refuses to use it. Having such state of the art technology helps with taking care of herself, but it still takes work, and by cooking steak for Bec Jade is the only kid who’s helping with personal and household maintenance. So, Jade’s enjoyment of sleep stands in for a more general understanding of daily necessities.

5 - your love of GARDENING transcends the glass confines of your ATRIUM;

Long foreshadowed by her chumhandle, when we caught our first glimpse of Jade on page 665, she was already surrounded by her plants. Jade grows a variety of fruits, flowers and vegetables, and doesn’t have much concern for their typical growth conditions. Peas, for example, grow best in a cooler climate, while squash likes it hot and humid, but Jade has these next to each other. Jade’s vegetables are best suited for temperate climates while her citrus fruits prefer things more tropical. Some quirk of Jade’s atrium or gardening methods means she doesn’t have to worry about this.

Gardening is another hobby Jade has tied to her gadgetry. When Jade plays her bass, it transmits sonar into her garden atrium, causing the plants to grow rapidly. It’s possible that these speakers are amplifiers for Skaian technology, and turn Jade’s house into a beacon, and a target for appearifying pumpkins. Some of Jade’s plants are ordinary, but her fruits have faces and are able to bounce around on the table (p.812). This is uncommon for us, but to Jade these are just regular fruits. This could be another effect of the sonar, or more generally, of the environmental conditions on the island. We know that volcanic activity creates a geothermal power source on Jade’s island (p.801) and can guess that mystic activity surrounding the frog statue creates a similar Skaian power source. And that places her as the (0,0) coordinate that all Skaian technology gravitates towards, and is maybe even the ‘default location’ for technology such as appearifiers.

Jade has plants in her bedroom, but she also has a large, four-wing garden atrium dedicated to this passion (p.780). It’s another big difference between Jade and the other kids that Jade’s interests are allowed to spill outside of her room. Her grandfather does control the aesthetic of most of the house, but giving Jade the garden atrium leads to a slightly more balanced relationship between the two.

Gardening as a hobby is something that requires regular input, something where results can’t always be seen right away, something imprecise as it involves living things that will behave surprisingly, something very messy, and something historic, engaged in by humans for millennia. Much like sleep, it links to the idea of routine, as plants often need watering on a set schedule. Plants are a way of providing food; especially on a tiny island where packages take months to deliver, Jade’s gardening must play a big part in keeping her healthy and alive, so again this ties into Jade’s responsibility for herself. Jade won’t hunt animals so this is her way of being a provider.

Jade is also connected to the messier, more unpleasant sides of nature. The player temporarily names her ‘Farmstink’, she will happily ‘squeal like a piglet and fertilize some plants’ (p.775), she’s delighted by the Manthro Chaps with their slop troughs, and she cares for a pet, which is always messy business. Clearly Jade isn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty, and understands the messy realities of giving life.

6 - and you are at times prone to patterns of PRECOGNITIVE PROGNOSTICATION.

Seemingly affecting all aspects of her day to day existence, Jade has spent her whole life tapped into a source of esoteric knowledge. Broadly, this gives her the ability to know certain events in the future, intuitively understand various games and technology, and possibly to understand the fourth wall and her place within a story. This ‘interest’ in prognostication is really more of an uncontrollable habit, and subsumes all Jade’s other interests, as it alters the experience of them so much.

Jade dispenses knowledge to her friends through pesterlogs, with varying levels of specificity. Jade has clearly given Rose a lot of information on their upcoming Sburb session – the fact that John and Rose begin play first, that it will happen on April 13, 2009, and that the game has the potential to revive the dead – and Rose describes her predictions as ‘frighteningly accurate’ (p.838). So she’s very honest with Rose, but maybe less so with John, as she gives him a vague ‘maybe this is your destiny’ (p.293) and asks him if he’s received a package when she knows he hasn’t. So not only does Jade have knowledge her friends don’t, but she’s careful about when to share it and with who.

Currently a lot of Jade’s visions involve gifts, which is funny because they don’t only relate to the present. In a flashback, Jade asks Rose about a different package, but gives Rose a future tip instead of sending her something – sharing her gift (as in talent) in place of a gift (as in present). Jade uses colorful reminders on her fingers to remember her own predictions, which is another limitation on her powers – predicting the future is great but it’s important to remember what’s been predicted, at the time it will be relevant. If Jade lost these reminders somehow, she might struggle to make sense of her predictions.

Jade’s visions appear specific in their timing and detail – at the end of conversations, Jade tells other people when they have to go, and sometimes tells them the reason (p.652, 838) although it’s uncertain whether she makes these predictions in advance or in the moment. Jade doesn’t only know that her friends will play Sburb, she also knows that Rose will lose her internet connection and that John will battle a pair of ogres – minutiae that are only available to the reader. And her predictions can understand people’s interiority, they’re not just visions from an outside observer - ‘you will have your questions answered, but they will be the ones you havent thought to ask yet!’ (p.838). Ignoring in-universe time, Jade’s predictions get more specific as the narrative progresses, so there’s a sense that she always knows slightly more than the reader or player and is staying one step ahead (even though this can be best explained by the author crystallizing their plans as they continue writing).

However, Jade’s predictions feel largely passive, always phrased like an unconscious understanding. She is a conduit for information, but there’s no sense that she could ‘choose’ to know the answer to a specific question, especially as she doesn’t know how these powers work. So if Skaia wanted to hide something from Jade or was itself incapable of knowing something, that would place another limitation on her abilities. We may have already seen this with the window device that Jade can’t get to work, despite gadgetry usually coming so easily to her.

Jade previously had an oracle’s trunk, but is slowly turning it into a gadget chest, as its contents were ‘completely bogus’ (p.802) – a crystal ball, velvet pillow, tarot deck, magic 8 ball, magic cue ball, and copy of Problem Sooth, mostly standard equipment for somebody interested in the occult. Jade dismisses the magic 8 ball as she has tested it against her own knowledge, but she is still superstitious about breaking it, suggesting a more general belief in supernatural powers, even while she sees them as inferior to her own.

Jade presents herself as all knowing, but she’s not sure why things keep appearing and disappearing around her atrium, she’s not sure why she falls asleep and importantly, she imagines John as ‘undoubtedly gallivanting around his house in a state of barely restrained birthday mirth’ (p.827) – so Jade’s knowledge is sometimes incomplete, sometimes inaccurate. But Jade turning her fortune telling chest into a gadgets chest shows that she sees her predictions scientifically, as more akin to understanding radiation or the atom than to tarot readings or horoscopes, without acknowledging the uncertainties that are still present in hard science. In fact, the way Jade talks about occult paraphernalia and fursuits are fairly similar. She is, or wants, the ‘real deal’ of everything, and doesn’t have time for what she sees as cheap imitations.

I believe that Skaian power breaks down the barriers between technology and reality, allowing creations such as Jade’s lunchtop, but also allowing Jade to see the fourth wall between herself and the readers’ computers. When we first meet Jade, she’s holding a note directed to the player, slightly offended that she will be/has been named Farmstink Buttlass (fair enough). Jade addresses the player directly during the ill-advised sylladex escapade where she gives a non-seer a chance to play the memory modus. She’s the first kid to refer directly to the author of the in-universe MS Paint Adventures - ‘looks like he was just finishing up some sort of weird tangential intermission’ (p.831), the ‘he’ presumably being Andrew Hussie. And Jade gains a sudden awareness that 413 years in the future while flying over the Pacific, the Peregrine Mendicant is asking ‘Don’t I know you?’ (p.900). Part of Jade’s prognostication involves knowing about all these different forces that are surveilling and controlling her, and being able to talk back. Jade is prepared to assert her dominance, whether that’s about knowing her sylladex better than the player does or frying PM’s command station with lightning because she doesn’t like being mind controlled. In this way Jade is more than a passive recipient of knowledge, she’s willing to look at the source of that knowledge and hold her own. Right now Jade feels like the most likely character to mess with the narrative itself – if she decides she wants to change something that’s predestined, it’s easy to see her arguing with the author directly.

7 - But you quickly realize this is only one half of your room, and is therefore host to only half of your INTERESTS to choose from.

This line from the end of page 789 is mostly a lie – the following page mostly recaps Jade’s previous interests, only adding her strife specibus and relationship with her grandfather. It is curious how Jade’s interests overflow from the page the same way they overflow from her room, the same way Jade’s introduction isn’t confined to her room and her existence spills out of the narrative. It gives the sense that Jade can’t be constrained by any force we yet know about. That’s a fun feeling – a wild card character makes everything more exciting.

Jade is a ‘skilled markswoman’ (p.790), owning four old fashioned looking guns. Two of these are long rifles for her riflekind specibus, and two are smaller and more portable. One is a hunting rifle, although it’s uncertain what Jade is hunting, as Jade’s ‘cross-hairs would never settle on an innocent creature’. It’s possible that she’s likely to encounter dangerous creatures if she leaves the house, or thinks she might in the future. Target practice is also a physical activity like bass playing or gardening, and one that can’t be taught through prognosticative powers, so it’s possible that Jade has honed this skill to have hobbies that take actual work, practice, and failure.

Although Jade claims to be a ‘great admirer’ of her grandfather’s (p.790), her actual feelings seem more complicated. He’s the person who taught her to hunt and lectures her on leaving the house without a rifle, but they differ ethically, with Jade really disliking the big game trophies he displays around the house. She especially dislikes his Typheus trophy, which he won’t move from the transportalizer even for practicality’s sake. Jade reluctantly supports his valiant knight collection, cannot stand his decrepit mummies, and seems confused by the Daughters of Eclectica, uncertain of why her grandfather likes them so much. Jade also describes her grandpa as ‘a little strict’ (p.772), giving ‘stern lectures’ (p.790), and especially ‘intense’ (p.382, 790, 916).

Like the other kid-guardian relationships, I think there’s a lack of understanding between the generations. Grandpa Harley has only been seen in silhouette, but from his home decoration, his monopolizing the grand foyer, and his apparent job title of an explorer-naturalist-treasure hunter-archaeologist-scientist-adventurer-big game hunter-billionaire, he comes across as someone bragadocious who likes to be surrounded by his own success and is in love with his own mythos, someone who has high expectations for Jade to live up to his own standards, and is controlling but in a hands off way. Needing to display so many of his achievements feels like he’s putting on the same act of coolness as Dave’s bro, but Grandpa cares about what was cool in 1909, not 2009. Jade’s grandpa has traveled a lot and been shaped by many years of adventuring, while Jade has likely never left the island or met many other people, so there’s a gulf in their experiences that’s hard to bridge. Jade can’t know what it’s like to live under the weight of her own history and celebrity, but her grandfather similarly can’t understand growing up in that shadow and in the expectations of eclipsing it.

If Jade is full on, excitable, a prodigy and a polymath, it’s clear who she gets it from. And Jade is maybe 50% between buying into the public image of her grandpa that he’s surely put across in media coverage, and 50% understanding the reality of him as a human being, the way somebody famous and star-studded can also be difficult, inconvenient, and make life harder when interacting on a day to day basis.

Final Thoughts

With a life much harder to relate to than John’s, Rose’s or Dave’s, I’m fascinated by what it’s like in Jade’s mind – to hold knowledge about the past, present and future all at once, to be certain what tomorrow will bring, and to communicate with an entity centuries in the future is a radically different experience to my own, and must really affect how Jade engages with the world. The main characters have gotten progressively weirder as we’ve been introduced to them in turn, but Jade is the only one to feel truly fantastical, guided by her powers as she is.

I can’t think of another piece of media that introduces characters so starkly, with no artifice, just a cleanly presented list of their interests. I love this framework; it paints an immediate picture of where these kids are in their lives as of April 13, 2009, leaving space for these interests to take on greater or lesser roles as the narrative progresses, but still shaping their perspectives and giving them texture from the first moment.

It’s also really interesting seeing the narrative work in introductions for these characters while the main story is still happening, allowing the new character space to explore without grinding the story to a halt. With around 75 consecutive pages, Jade’s introduction is much more leisurely than Rose or Dave’s, as they only had around 25 pages each. Slowly, and in narratively satisfying ways as Jade thinks about or talks to each of her friends, the other characters have been worked back in, turning Act 3 from Jade’s story into an ensemble piece.

As I get further into Homestuck, I’m finding myself with fewer burning questions, and more faith in the story’s method of revealing itself. But here’s the things on my mind as our fourth and final Beta Kid takes her place in the narrative.

What is Jade bad at? What are the skills that don’t come easily to Jade, or the everyday tasks where she struggles and makes mistakes?

Under what circumstances does Jade receive her knowledge, and in what form? Would she still have access to these powers in a different location? Is what Jade knows at all tied to what the player or reader knows?

Does Jade’s grandfather know about Skaia, and is this why he chose to live on this island, or is this coincidence? What exactly are his expectations for her, and what does he lecture her about beyond carrying a rifle and becoming a Daughter of Eclectica?

What does it mean for the narrative when a character knows more than the player? More than the author? How does an author even write a character like that? When does everything start falling apart?

Will these be our four main characters for the rest of the story, with WV and PM as secondary characters? Is this the end of major character introductions? Or are there more to come?

[skeletal-r3xie]

Plans for the rest of the day + yapping + how I feel about hitting my new LW

I have work today at 5, so obviously I’ll be doing that first. I don’t feel too great today about it, but it will be fine and hopefully it will fly by.

Straight after that, it’s off to the gym for some cardio, I will do 30 minutes on the treadmill and hopefully I actually remember to put my phone in my pocket this time for my steps lol.

Hitting a new LW has been greatly motivating, and knowing it only gets better from here no matter what is so wonderful.

I do need to increase my calorie intake, which I mentioned on my last post, but I will be seeing the same doctor I saw yesterday in a few weeks time, and I don’t want to lose too much weight in that time in case he notices it. So I will strictly be sticking to 800-1000 c4ls a day until this is all over, so I will still lose, but more slowly.

After the gym, I will go home and make myself some food, I have all my meals planned out for the day, and it should come to 800-900 c4ls (can’t remember exactly what it came to lol).

How do I feel about my new LW?

Physically - I’m cold, I’m not as hungry (I assume bc my stomach is shrinking), my heart beat is literally pounding sometimes, I’m short of breath, dizzy, my raynauds is flaring up wayyy more often, I didn’t shit for a week until I took some stool softeners, + some other things I can’t remember rn, OH and ofc I’m looking absolutely SNATCHED 😍🫶

Mentally/emotionally - I’m either completely apathetic or super emotional lmao, I cried the other day because I couldn’t find my gym leggings😭 I’m ill-motivated for almost everything except video games. I’m also very disassociated, I deal with disassociation anyways but it gets really bad when I ⭐️ve, everything looks and feels dream-like and I feel like I’m in my own little bubble. On a more positive side tho, I feel very much in control, somewhat peaceful, and idk, just nice I suppose.

Goodbye for now guys! I need to pack my gym back and get myself to work, I will update after I’m finished with the gym, love ya!

[6feathered6siren6]

V and mc in bed after mc has a breakdown over work

Vigilante's help - V x reader

You have been overworked and stressed out from work, bosses giving you more work than ever since a few people quit. You understood some of them, one got married, another got a new job, or even moving. But you have been given the short end of the stick, getting almost all of their work. Attending their meetings, interviews, writing their papers, and even the verbal abuse from your boss. 

Sure, you have been grinding your ass for this job, working overtime. You barely had any time to spend with any of your friends, server or not. You worked, got home, ate(when you remembered), worked even more, then to bed. It was how it was for weeks. You had no time to spend with your boyfriend, V. You texted him from time to time, when you could, at least. But he knew something was up. 

(:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

You got home after doing 12 hours of working. Tired was an understatement. You went to grab some easy food to make, a frozen meal from your freezer into your microwave. You booted your computer and changed your work clothing. Grabbing your food, you sat at your computer, typing away for the interview you had with Angel, you were still somewhat shocked you had to interview her. 

Hearing a knock from your front door, you got up and stretched. Who was knocking at… 11 pm? Shesh, you need to get to bed, you have to wake up early tomorrow. As you walked over to your front door, and opened it to see… V? 

“V? What are you doing here?” You were shocked, what was your boyfriend doing here? And at this hour? Should he be looking for killers or something?

He was looking at you with different emotions, but you could see guilt, shame, sadness, and regret. Like somehow what you look like was his fault. You felt his hand on your cheek. A kind gesture unlike the constant abuse from your job. 

“My love, I should have noticed it sooner. I’m sorry that I didn’t.” Kind words. Just a few words, in your opinion, broke the mask you were wearing all this time. You felt your tears stream down. As you lift your hand to wipe your tear, V, already beat you to the punch. “Have you eaten? Or were you about to sleep? If I did wake you up, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “I was about to eat, I was planning to work–” 

“No.” 

You felt your eyes widen as you looked at him. “But I-” 

“No, I’m sorry but you need rest, Love. Work can wait.”

“But I ne-” Before another word you could get out, you were picked up by the taller male. You were so confused but you realized that this male will make sure he gets what he wants right now. He gets to your bedroom, and puts you on the bed, and lays the bag down onto the bed. It was your favorite fast food. He saves your progress on your computer then shuts it off. 

“I’m calling your work to have tomorrow off. You need rest.” He turns around. His arms are crossed, showing he won’t be swifted by your word. 

“V.. I can’t take a day off. I just…” You felt emotions, and your voice shook as you tried to speak. “They need me there.” 

“And you need to rest, they can take care of it. You look like a breeze of wind away to just pass out or crumble.” V got closer and sat beside you. He laid his hand on your cheek again, that feeling of that mask you oh so built up to perfection, crumbled into pieces as they fell from your cheeks again. Someone that just knew you were drowning, brought you back to the surface. You felt his hand pull your head in his shoulder, allowing you to break down. 

You worked so hard and got so little credit, working till the point you were so close to passing out at times. Wanting something to take that edge off. Just something to keep going, but V.. He was the one who just did. You felt yourself sob into his shoulder, feeling tired, exhausted as the tears poured from your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry that it took Angel to get me to realize you were in trouble. She told me that you looked horrible, my love. I didn’t believe her, but she made me see you for myself. And I’m glad I did. If I allowed you to work a day more, the more regret I would feel.” You felt his hand caressing your hair, playing with it. 

As the moments passed on, you felt that your eyes no longer had enough tears to shed. It was a moment of silence as he shifted both of you onto the bed, he brought the bag of fast food closer, sure it was colder, but it was your favorite, and you would still eat it. Opening the container for you, he looks down. 

“Please, don’t bear everything alone. You have me here. And a few others from the.. server.” He paused as he thought, you knew his opinions on the server, it was a love hate situation to you. But to you, his words meant everything to you. You smiled very softly as you ate. “You need to worry about yourself at times.”

 You looked at him after you took a bite. “Thank you, V. It means a lot to me.” His eyes still spoke so much, almost most of those emotions from before. “I promise to take better care of myself. A step at a time though, I still have a lot to worry about at work. But I promise.”

He still did not look convinced. But you gave off a smile, a smile of mischief and almost childish. You threw up your pinkie at him. 

“I’ll pinkie promise it.” He looks a bit dumbfounded for a moment before giving a huff and a smile. 

“Good, I’ll hold you to it.” He interlocked his pinkie with yours. 

A promise you holded off well. With his help of course. 

꒷꒦︶꒦꒷✧꒷꒦︶꒦꒷

So hopefully I did your request justice, I loved playing V in KC and how he responds, might be a bit ooc as well. But I did enjoy writing this.

Words: 1,035

[coltoncowsbell]

a poem reflecting on the orioles’ injury-ridden 2024 season, told through the lens of my ever-muse colton cowser

[i-could-be-so-much-more]

It frustrates me to no end that everyone I talk to someone new my brain catastrophises to the point where even though I know logically it’s fine, and normal, and fun, I end up making it a bigger deal in my head that I know it is…I think myself into spirals that the logical part of my brain knows are ridiculous and dramatic and improbable, which stress me out more than is entirely necessary…it’s so tiring to exist and participate in the social world sometimes

[void-tiger]

Trying to keep a lid on it but. Yeah. Literally don’t know what’s it like to NOT be platonically neglected IRL my whole damn life, only that I know this One Person doesn’t deserve to be at the epicenter of it anymore than I deserved to have been at the epicenter of theirs a year ago now.

…why am I like this. Why are we like this.

[okcoolthanks]

Two rats having lunch

Two rats having lunch

The vermin

The vermin

Enthusiastically munch!

TWO RATS

ON THE GROUND

EATIN FOOD

GRILLED CHEESE AND

TOMATO SOUP

[aardvaark]

i’m back ‘home’ for the holidays so i’m almost certainly about to go through a horrific depressive episode! great! that’ll either mean that i’m on tumblr way way more, or way way less, idk yet lol.

[astral-catastrophe]

Okay but actually, considering how horrid this person’s been to me, I get to be bitchy

[sahkuna]

NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the universe has a funny way of working. gojo always knew he was destined to be with you and so did others. it just took some time for you to figure that out as well.

content warning(s): FLUFF! eventual smut so 18+ mdni, fem! reader, pining gojo (sooo cute), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unproetected sex, gojo calling you baby multiple times while going innn.

word count: 6.8k zoo wee mama... pls read anyway or i'll d—

SPRING 2008

“So, you’re not gonna miss me? Not even a little?” 

An arm was suddenly thrown across your shoulders, leaving you to bear its weight. The press of his uniform stuck to your nape, making his presence all the more difficult to ignore.

Fellow students bustled and sidestepped their way around you two, some even falter in their steps to ogle briefly at the scene unfolding before them.

“Satoru, move!” Shoko— your saviour— jabs Gojo’s side, urging him to budge, but to no avail.

He’s still tethered to your side, twirling around his diploma in his unoccupied hand despite your best efforts to create space between you two. “You’re literally blocking people’s way toward the gates,” she says.

It’s graduation day and the last day of school for the spring semester, bringing the school year to yet another successful end. It also meant that today would be the last time your upperclassmen would walk on school grounds as students.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the many trees surrounding the school, and its marvellous glow cast warm hues of pink and orange that stretched across the sky. Its rays descend onto the school’s campus; setting for a brilliant, comforting atmosphere. 

Answering Gojo’s initial question about whether you’d miss him, you avert eye contact with your persistent senior. “I never said that,” your voice teeters between a grumble and a groan riddled with exasperation. 

Your eyes sweep the courtyard and you spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Some are gathered along the steps leading up to the school taking photos to commemorate today. Others linger on campus chatting amongst themselves, and some whack each other with their diploma scrolls while others treat theirs delicately.

And not too far off from where Satoru holds you hostage stood a small crowd of his classmates—specifically, his female classmates— waiting for their chance to bid their goodbyes...

Or stumble out an unprepared confession thrown out in the heat of the moment before they may never see Gojo Satoru again.

Who knows. 

All you’re sure of is that they are most definitely throwing you shady death glares from your peripheral.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss you,” Gojo says, his arm still looped around your shoulders. He has half a mind to drag you away from standing right front and centre in the entranceway and shuffles you off to the side. “All the years we’ve spent together—”

“Two years, by force.” 

“— and now we’re being split apart,” he finishes, paying no mind to your sardonic comment. The infliction in his voice prompts you to turn to look at him, only to wind up and see a slight pout tugging at his soft, pink lips. “How ever will we manage?”

You smother down the urge to heave a loud and heavy sigh at the clingy characteristics he’s displaying today and decide to play nice.

Gojo’s always been one to be playful, perhaps even a bit pushy at times but it was all in good nature. However, for some reason, his antics have reached a whole new level today. 

Emotions were running high among staff and students alike. Some are more potent and… persistent than others.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure, patting his arm half-heartedly, “and I will certainly be fine. Everything will be just fine.”

In the middle of your sentence from the corner of your eye, you spot another one of your seniors— Geto Suguru. You watch him step out from a conversation with two classmates of yours (Haibara and Nanami) and is now trekking his way over to where you and Gojo occupy the front steps.

“Geto-senpai!” 

Geto greets you warmly by placing a comforting hand on your head and gives you a reassuring pat once, then twice. The action leaves your hairstyle a little dishevelled, nonetheless, there’s a small smile tugging at your lips.

You’ve only interacted with Geto a sparse number of times outside of class or at the end of the school day. Whenever you both would cross paths you appreciated how he would regard your presence with temperance. It always left you feeling at ease. You’ll miss him. 

You’ll especially miss how he was so quick to offer you and Haibara snacks from the vending machines on campus.

Gojo emits a pathetic squawk at the special name drop.

Pale, white brows are pinched tightly together with faux betrayal. “How come he gets honorifics but I don’t?!” he complains once Geto’s within earshot. 

“I see that Satoru's already started…”

Though Geto was talking to no one in particular, Shoko chips in given that she bore witness to Gojo’s incessant pestering toward you ever since the home bell rang. “You missed the part where he blocked her from getting to the lockers for a good several minutes.” Unzipping her bag, she carelessly shoves her diploma into it. 

“But anyway, I’m gonna head out for a smoke. I’ll catch you guys later.” Before departing, Shoko stretches her hand towards you and gives your arm an affectionate squeeze. “Get home safe, ‘kay? Don’t let these guys keep you out too long.”

Which reminded you…

“Gojo, this has been fun and all…” Being rag-dolled around by your upperclassman across campus has been anything but fun. “But I really should start heading home now.”

You wanted to beat the rush hour of students and working-class alike trying to go home on a late Thursday afternoon. Looking for empty seats on the 4:25 PM train was brutal and you did not have the energy to stand the entire ride home.

Sensing your air of urgency, he eventually relents. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Gojo steps back a few and gives you some space.  

“Gimme a second, yeah?” He rummages around in his uniform pocket, searching for something. It only lasts about a second before he pulls out his flip phone.

“Suguru!” A curt upward nod of Gojo’s head is the only warning Geto gets before he tosses his cell toward his best friend to catch. You’re appalled that he catches it so easily with the little to no notice that was given. “Take a picture of us.”

…Huh?

Your brows drew close-knit together with confusion. “What are y—?!” Before you can even finish your question, you’re pulled tightly into Gojo’s side. 

His arms circle your neck once more, but this time, he uses the opportunity of your close proximity to tip his head to the side and knock it against your own. 

“Smile,” Gojo murmurs into your ear, his slender fingers pinching at your cheek prodding for you to plaster on a sugary smile for the picture.

You don’t have enough time to register, let alone recover from how his lips faintly brushed against your skin, Gojo’s already obnoxiously yelling “Cheese!” towards the awaiting camera.  

Snapping the photo Geto sports a lazy grin admiring his work. “Looks good,” he says before he tosses the phone back to its owner. 

You’re still reeling over the gentle graze of Gojo’s lips against your cheek, too dazed to digest what’s going on around you. What. In. The hell. Just happened??? 

Sputtering out a laugh, Gojo grins down at the image on his phone. “What’s with that face you’re making, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you look up at Gojo curiously. Whatever was in that picture that made him smile that wide couldn’t have been good. “What do you mean?” You question, stepping closer to see what he was referring to on his screen.

Gojo tips his cell over and shows you the photo Geto took. There you both are in grain, Gojo looking the most lively out of you two. Despite the quality of the camera, you can see the proud and happy smile he wears compared to your frazzled and confused expression.

If anything, it looked like you were the one who was graduating and he so happened to snag a photo with you before your big send-off.

“I wasn’t ready…” you grumbled, looking away from his phone.

There’s a faint smile lingering on his face, blue eyes still trained on the screen. His voice's cadence grows warm and carries a small hint of affection.

“That face of yours is what I’m gonna miss the most.”

SUMMER 2009 

To no one’s surprise, you and Gojo kept in close contact, even after graduating high school. 

Well… More so Gojo kept in contact with you. Consistently. 

Whenever he can.

He was there during your spring graduation (shocker), much to the elation of the entire female population from your graduating class. Looking back, the number of times he stopped to pose with random students around the school when he came to greet you was absurd.

You’ll also never forget how loud he cheered when your name was called despite Principal Yaga telling the audience to hold their applause and hollers until after the ceremony.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘09 where Gojo consistently seeks your presence to go and hang out with him now that you have a freed-up schedule. Whether it's with him alone or with Geto and Shoko, you can always rely on him to shoot you a ‘u busy?’ text an hour before dragging you out for the rest of the day.

“Sooo,” you start slowly.

Your eyes skim across the playground, watching the few children who were there amble and climb on the jungle gym before you. The sun was beginning to descend below the skyline, and hues of warm orange press onto your features casting you and your surroundings in a soft glow. 

“You’re a… guardian now,” you state, eyeing how Gojo stretches his legs out beside you. 

You both sit at a park bench, the chorus of laughter and playful shrieks surround you as you watch Megumi— a kid Gojo now supposedly looks after— poke mindlessly at something buried beneath the playground’s sand.

“Yup!” he chirps, but then it’s swiftly followed by a hesitant, “Well, sorta kinda…”

There’s a mental warfare going on in his mind as he combs through the various explanations he can give you, searching for one that would be both concise and easy for you to digest.

“To put it simply, from here on out I’m going to be a constant in Megumi and Tsumiki’s life.”

You think of the step-sibling duo. They’re the sweetest pair of children you’ve had the delight of coming across, and now…

“They’re doomed,” you say with pity, your gaze still focused on the youngest Fushiguro. 

Gojo gasps in disbelief at your bold accusation with his hand flying to his chest, clearly having taken offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” he asks.

But before you could give him a smart alec answer, the cheerful exclamation of your name pulls your attention elsewhere. The soft thump of Tsumiki’s shoes approaching prompts you to smile brightly. With open arms, the girl practically throws herself at you and giggles.

You give her cheek an affectionate squeeze. Despite her being in the second grade, you couldn’t help but coddle her. “Why hello, Tsumiki!” 

It takes her a few moments to finally release you from the hug, backing up a bit she glances up at you. “Where were you? I missed you on Tuesday, the swings weren’t fun without you!” she says, pouting.

“I wasn’t feeling the best, so I had to turn down Gojo’s invite to meet you guys at the park that day.”

Upon hearing all the commotion, Megumi spots Tsumiki talking to you a few steps from the play area. It prompts the young boy to walk over and join you three at the bench. He nods his head over at his step-sister and says, “She thought you guys broke up.”

Huh?

You blink rapidly. “Broke— Broke up!?” You squawk, the inflection of your voice rising at the ‘up’ part.

Where could she have possibly gotten that idea from? You and Gojo weren’t even dating!

Gathering your composure you plaster on a sweet smile, ready to explain to the young pair that you and Gojo weren’t together like that before a heavy arm comes hunkering down onto your shoulders. “Even if she tried, she can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gojo comments.

Christ.

Tsumiki claps her hands together in glee at this revelation. “Yay! ‘Cause I like you!” she confesses. “I thought I’d have to deal with Gojo and his friend with the big ears pushing me on the swings forever.” And with that, the girl’s already off running to the big yellow slide, pulling Megumi along in her wake.

The sweet smile you wear grows more and more strained the longer you two sit there on that damned bench with Gojo’s arm still lodged around you like it belonged there. 

Long delicate fingers drum themselves along your bare shoulder which leaves a tingling sensation that lingers against your skin.

“Gojo Satoru…” you hiss between clenched teeth.

Your hand creeps up to give his knee a mean pinch, but as always, Gojo reads your movements like a damn book and catches your hand in his before that could happen. “Hm?”

“What do you mean ‘Hm’?” You gesture in the general direction of where the kids are playing. You feel your brows start to pinch together. “Why would you tell them that?!”

“It’s true though, no?” Snowy white wisps of hair fall in front of his eyes shaded by his signature round sunglasses. “We haven’t ‘broken up’ and we’re still together. Just not in their understanding of it.”

“You—! That’s not—” You flounder for words, trying to spit out why he can’t go around inadvertently feeding into the imagination of whatever relationship Tsumiki and Megumi thought you two had. But you come up blank.

“You’re irritating, you know that?” you say, as you try (and fail) at removing his arm which still rests comfortably around your shoulders, pressing you tight against him. “You’ll wind up confusing them.”

An easy smile slips onto his lips as he observes Tsumiki and Megumi scramble up the slides. “Relax,” he responds. “They’re smart kids.”

And until it was time for the Fushiguros to go home, there you two sat underneath the thinning ochre sky. Stuck under the guise of an unspoken relationship.

WINTER 2011

Being the “middleman” between two people who are so obviously into each other but cannot figure out how to hang around each other normally was all too common for Shoko.

It’s a shame that Geto wasn’t available to come down and hang out with the three of you tonight, he would’ve revelled in getting a kick out of this expected yet unexpected… turn of events.

Brought in as a buffer between you two, with an unlit cigarette dangling loosely from her lips Shoko leaned back in her chair and watched the buzzing scene before her unfold with bemused eyes. 

Underneath the comforting golden glow of the restaurant’s hanging table light, Gojo picks at the cookie dough chunks that litter your plate to which you turn a blind eye. Now, Shoko could’ve easily brushed this occurrence off, seeing that friends often eat from each other's share of food all the time.

But something was... different.

With Gojo seated to your left inside the booth, he neatly cuts up a piece of his soft, creamy cheesecake and leverages the small serving on his spoon. “Here, try some of mine,” he says.

Harmless, right? 

So, you reach for your own spoon to retrieve the sample of dessert that he was offering you. But without any hesitation, Gojo lifts his cutlery to your lips and prods the food toward your mouth.

There was no way that he intended on doing this right here, right now. In front of Shoko especially.

“Say, ‘Ahhh’!”

Concern creases your brow when Gojo continues to press the spoon against your lips, idly humming as he waits for you to open your mouth so he can spoon feed you as if he were your mother. A delicate, yet sure hand cupping your chin and everything.

He was being serious.

From your peripheral, you catch the slow spread of a Cheshire-like grin creeping onto Shoko’s face.

You press your fingers onto Gojo’s wrist and frown. Trying to retreat from his hand, a peal of nervous laughter bubbles out from you at his display of reckless affection at the table. “Give me a br—”

Gojo uses the opportunity of your uncertain state to slip his sharing of the  Japanese cheesecake into your mouth in the middle of your sentence. Your eyes widen a small fraction at its creamy taste, prompting him to comment, “It’s good, right?”

The cigarette threatens to slip from Shoko’s mouth, as her lips slightly gape at what just happened before they curve into a soft smile. Her brown eyes are warm with… something. It’s as if she knew something that you didn’t.  

“Ehhh…” Is all she says before you’re already jumping down her throat to clear up any misunderstandings.

“It’s nothing!” you supply in a rushed manner. Your main objective was to simply imply that this was nothing for her to lose her head over. Hell, even the friendliest of friends feed each other all the time! Right?

But at your remark, Gojo’s mouth downturns into a cute little pout. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” From the corner of your eye you glance at how he’s fixed another spoonful of the dessert, and it's hovering in your direction.

“Sato—” Fuck.

You quickly correct yourself on your mistake, and school your voice to have a bit more edge to it. Despite that, you don’t overlook how hard Gojo’s beaming at you. “Gojo, not now.”

“Ehhh?” Shoko exclaims once again, but this time the cadence of her voice has changed. It’s gained an amused note to its tune. “You call him Satoru now? Since when?”

“I’ve been begging her to use it for the longest time ever,” Gojo answers on your behalf, and he ignores your mutter for him to please stop talking in favour of jabbing an accusatory finger at you. “You know how painful it was to see you be all chummy and on a first-name basis with everyone but me?”

Lord. You’ve forgotten how dramatic he could be. 

There’s a teasing glint in Shoko’s eye that you quite don’t like, and her lips purse heavy with consideration at his comment. “You make him beg?”

Groaning, you cross your arms against the table and bury your face. You can’t with them. Your two former upperclassmen were the bane of your existence right about now. 

“I’ll kill you both,” you mutter, your speech muffled by the fabric of your sweater.

A FEW YEARS LATER

A calming blue nightly glow ripples through your curtains, casting your room in nothing but moonlight. Amidst the serene silence, you idly stare at your screen and read the text Satoru sent you right as the clock struck midnight.

Satoru: Are you home?

What an ominous question. Your eyes skim over his message again. And then again. 

…And again.

Thumbing through your phone, you glance at the time displayed on the top of your screen. It’s been five minutes since you’ve opened his text. You should probably send something back soon before he quintuple texts you.

As you’re about to respond right when Satoru immediately shoots you another.

Satoru: I KNOW you see this!!! ( `ε´ )

Satoru: Hurry hurry hurry

You: yes... why?

Now it’s his turn to take a while to respond. First, it takes a couple of minutes for you to receive that pinging chime; indicating that he’s texted you back— which isn’t too bad because you like to consider yourself a pretty patient person. 

But then five minutes slowly turn into ten, and that ten becomes a whopping fifteen until finally he answers.

Satoru: Open your door.

What the fuck.

Satoru: Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepl

So that’s why he took so long to reply. The man was coming all the way down from his place to come and visit you!

You: you're actually insane.

You: hold on!

Rising from your seated position on your bed, you stalk over to your bedroom door and are about to exit when you spot yourself in a nearby mirror.

“Oh!” you exclaim to no one in particular. You can’t open the door for him looking like… this.

Wait, why do you care about what Satoru thinks of your clothes?!

 He’s seen you wearing much worse. Like that one instance in first-year, when you had to borrow Geto’s spare parachute pants because Haibara accidentally spilt his soda all over your lap during an informal outing with everyone.

Yeesh.

Shaking your head, you slip out of your room and pad down your apartment hallway wearing your discoloured oversized band tee and shorts. Upon reaching your door, your hand hesitates on the doorknob. 

It stays like that for a few seconds until the doorknob is rattled in a fashion that’s all too persistent, annoying, and all from—

“Satoru!” you hiss, swinging the door open. You’re ready to chew him out on how much of a nuisance he may be for your sleeping neighbours a few doors down. But your looming reprimand falls short on your tongue once your eyes take in the man facing you.

“Happy birthday!” 

In the darkness, the soft glow of sparklers illuminates your features and highlights the exquisite details of a beautifully decorated cake held in Satoru’s hands.

Wordlessly, your hand aimlessly searches for the light switch to brighten up your hallway so that you may get a better look at what’s on the cake. 

Something trembles in your chest and it hurts a little to breathe. But not in the way that you detest.

He’s cute.

Gojo Satoru is so heartbreakingly cute.

On the cake, you see that damn grainy photo you two took on his graduation day back in ‘08. The photo you love to hate.

Wetness springs to your eyes from the entire gesture, from the fact that he ensured he was the first one through text and physically to wish you a happy birthday, and from the fact that he’s here right now.

“Hey…” There’s concern creasing Satoru’s expression as he pokes his head down a little to get a better read on you. “Are you crying?”

You sniff back your tears and grunt out a watery, “No… Shut up and come in already.”

Ushering him inside, Satoru hands you your cake, toes off his shoes and heads straight to your living room. Good to see that he’s already making himself at home.

Plopping himself down onto your couch you hesitantly follow behind him, suddenly feeling like a stranger in your own home. “Come, come!” He waves a welcoming hand at you and pats the seat beside him, insinuating that you should sit.

With immediate interest, you do as he says and take a seat beside him after you position your cake in the middle of your coffee table. The couch feels so small now, with him spread out like that.

Pulling out something from his pocket with one hand and tugging off the party hat from his head with the other— had he been wearing that the whole time?— Satoru clears his throat. “Before you cry again, I gotta make sure you’re able to see your present first.”

He takes your head in his hands, and you realize his fingertips are a little cold as they press on your warm cheeks. Stretching the string down from the party hat a bit, he places it under your chin and snaps the cardboard cone into place on your head.

Breathing a noise of satisfaction seemingly content with how you look, a cheeky grin dances across Satoru’s face. “Perfect. You can now go ahead and open your gift,” he says, handing you a small black velvet box with the company logo HW scrawled across it.

“Wait, what,” you deadpan.

This can’t be what you think it is.

“It’s not a ring!” Satoru blurts. But composes himself seconds later with a quip of, “Unless you want it to be?”

Har. Har. Very funny.

You disregard what he’s said and peel open the box with caring hands.

Inside was the most extravagant necklace you’ve ever laid eyes on. A diamond pendant laid bare inside the box in the shape of a forget-me-not with your birthstone at the flower's centre. 

That could’ve easily cost him a little over one million yen if you think about it deeply.

“Satoru!” you squeal.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze your longtime friend into your loving embrace. Satoru’s gift to you almost topples and sinks into the crevice of your couch had it not been for his quick hand to catch the necklace.

Your heart’s racing, and initially, his body goes rigid until he gradually relaxes under your hold. “You’re crazy, ’s too expensive!” you sparingly chastise him. 

Satoru swallows hard and brings a careful arm up to reciprocate the hug. You feel the warm press of his arm against the thin material of your shirt. 

“Nothing’s too expensive if you’re involved,” you hear him murmur into your ear. “So, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You give him one last bone-crushing squeeze, hoping that your rare show of physical touch does not go unnoticed and exemplifies how grateful you are. Pulling away from him you look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you, seriously.”

Shrugging you off like it was no big deal as if he didn’t blow double, maybe even triple the money the average Japanese businessman earns on a singular paycheque toward your necklace, Satoru casts you a gentle smile and changes the subject. 

There would be no need to dwell on it any longer with what’s to come.

“Now…” He gives your lower back a soft pat. Once, and twice. “A birthday kiss from the birthday girl.” Satoru puckers out his lips and shuts his eyes real tight, making a huge show out of it.

For extra effect, he even hums a prolonged Mmm-ing sound to emphasize him waiting for you to initiate it.

It’s a joke; you know he’s joking. He has a ridiculously long history of being overly affectionate with his teasings and whatnot. 

But this time, you really do lean in and take said kiss from him.

There’s something incredibly adorable about this kiss that has your heart surging in your chest. Partly because it’s the first time that you’re kissing each other, but mostly because of how frigid and careful it is. It made you feel as if you were in high school all over again, trying a plethora of new things for kicks and giggles.

The tension was almost palpable, thick enough to suffocate the air he breathed. Even when you pulled away creating space between you both, Satoru still felt a lingering lump in his throat.

Cracking your eyes open, you see that Satoru’s own are blown wide. Piercing cerulean eyes stare unblinking at you. Normally, you would’ve found that to be off putting as hell, had it not been for the slow rise of a blooming pink crawling up his neck.

“Sorry,” you offer weakly. Sensing that you may have gone too far, you make an effort to scoot off his lap. But a determined arm holds you in place.

“Again.” He swallows thickly, and your eyes follow that mesmerizing movement in his throat. “I… I didn’t do it right. Please.”

And who are you to make him beg? So, you do as he says.

Leaning in, your lips press against Satoru’s once more. And this time, he has the sense to close his eyes and bask in it, not daring to let his nerves get the best of him (though he’d never admit it). 

Slotting yourself to be more flushed against him, the tips of your noses brush and you feel Satoru’s hand smooth down your spine. The pads of his fingertips press onto your exposed skin peeking out from underneath the hem of your shirt bunched around your hips.

God, you wanted him bad.

It’s abrupt, the way you push yourself off him and force yourself to stand on your feet, breaking the kiss. The rise and fall of your chest is a bit staggered and Satoru’s is too. He’s all red-faced and his snow-white hair is a bit dishevelled, considering how many times you’ve combed your fingers through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Cute. 

That alone made you want to jump his bones even more.

You shake your head and get one good look at him before you leave him to head down your hallway. He looked perpetually enraptured by you, eyes hyper-focused on your every movement.  “Come to my bedroom.”

Satoru’s stunned, the implications of your remark not lost on him.

And like a keen lost puppy, of course he follows. He joins you in your bedroom seconds after you and stands in the doorway, just kind of hovering there. Not sure of what to do.

Wait. Did he come here too fast? Did that make him look overly desperate? A million and one questions rush through Satoru’s mind as his neck grows red, stained with embarrassment, want… arousal. 

Seeing how he seems to be short-wiring at your doorway, you beckon him to join you on the bed with your hand. Once he does, he sits extremely close next to you. His clothed thigh brushes against your bare one, which sends a jolt of electricity through you.

Your fingers find his nape once again and they stroke up on his fresh undercut, prompting him to shiver a bit. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?” you question, your voice going gentle with a provoking edge to it.

Gaining some of his personality back, Satoru pinches your cheek. “‘Cause I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me!” But his mean hand then turns soft and slides along your jaw, his thumb rubbing smooth circles into the skin just below your ear. 

“Well, I’m here,” you say, scooting impossibly closer to the man beside you, “and wanting.”

Message received.

Hauling you onto his lap, Satoru cradles your face in both hands and kisses you deeply. It’s full of emotion, expressing all the things he’s been wanting to say for the longest time. A trembled exhale escapes you, and it’s through that that Satoru uses the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours. 

The kiss is frenzied, but so filled with love.

“So you like me?” he asks, his breathing laboured.

“Yes,” you bite, pushing him away from you and onto the mattress. “As if swapping spit with you wasn’t enough.” You guess you’ll have to show him how much you undoubtedly like him, love him even, through other means. 

He huffs a breath of laughter and drops his back onto your bed. Underneath you, you see Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he watches you have your way with him. 

But something’s up.

His eyes climb up a little higher and this time, he barks out a real laugh.

You still have that piece of fuck sitting on your head. You probably look stupid as hell right now.

Discerning that you’re about to raise your hand to your head, Satoru holds your wrist in his palm. There’s something bright that gleams behind those alluring pools of blue, warm and tender. He bites back a smile. “The birthday hat stays on during sex.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re so dumb,” you growl with artificial frustration and tear off the cone-shaped hat from your head, tossing it into the depths of your room. He whines at its loss, but you’re quick to placate him with a slow roll of your hips into his lap.

Satoru’s jaw clenches and his hands fly to your waist, gripping you tightly as you continue to grind yourself down onto his erection. Your ministrations pull a wanton whimper from his lips, one that has you grinding with more purpose— the purpose of hearing that sound again.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, else he’ll let out a pathetic string of moans.

“I know, me too.” Satoru’s dick lurches in the confines of his pants as he watches you dry-hump him into the mattress slowly, your eyes shining with lust. Fuck, he could get hard just off your expression alone. “It feels reeeally nice being up on you like this,” you continue.

You have a fucking dirty mouth. One that Satoru’s growing more and more addicted to the more you speak.

There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs that you can’t quite alleviate. While rolling your hips into Satoru’s lap— with his occasional thrust to match your movements— felt good, it can only do so much. You wanted and needed more.

And so did Satoru, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants. His thumb loops two layers and tugs both his pants and boxers down, revealing his toned V-line. 

Fuck.

You fall victim to Satoru’s enamoured gaze from below, which makes you squirm hot with arousal. “Take it off,” he commands.

He wants you to strip him of his clothes. 

Caught taking a startled breath, you ignore the wicked, handsome smile that slinks onto his face as you slip off his lap so you may curl your fingers around his waistband and pull. Your pussy clenches when his erect dick springs into view, and the heat pumping through your veins runs a little hotter.

You shiver at how pretty and filling his dick looks. After a few seconds of openly ogling at his lap, Satoru clears his throat which successfully gets you to drag your eyes back up to his face.

“While that was nice,” he starts, leveraging himself up onto his elbows and grins at your cute error, “I meant you, baby. Take it off.”

“Oh.” 

Seriously? Just ‘Oh’?

Mentally facepalming, you shimmy your shorts down your legs along with your panties. They pool down at your ankles and you step out of them to stand between his legs.

Fully sitting up, Satoru pats his lap; encouraging you to sit on him again. “C’mere.”

You crawl onto his lap, but you don’t sit down fully. Hovering a few inches away from his cock, your knees press on each side of his thighs, trapping him in. 

There’s no way in hell you were gonna sit down right now, knowing that if you do, you’d be pressing your bare pussy onto his naked thigh and he’d feel everything. Exposing how wet you are.

Humming, Satoru lifts the hem of your oversized top to your breasts and sighs. “Pretty,” he murmurs before he leans forward and captures your nipple into his mouth.

You gasp harshly at the titillating feeling. Your hands balance on his shoulders for support, as he rolls your nipple on his tongue.

“Sa— Ah!” You cry out. The hand between your legs startles you and has you whimpering in the open air.

“You’re wet,” he comments, slipping a finger against your slick pussy.

“Shut up about it…”

But he doesn’t. Another finger joins the first and delves down between your lips, gradually easing them inside you. They push against your walls, curling in a way that has you gasping into his neck. “You got wet from grinding alone, huh?” 

A breath stutters out of your mouth and you rock yourself against his hand. You can’t take this anymore. You want more. “Do you have a condom?” you ask.

“I—” he groans when your hand slides between you two, your fingers curl around his dick and stroke his tip along your leaking slit. “I didn’t bring one, because I didn’t think we’d—”

Oh.

Biting your bottom lip, you sling a heavy arm across Satoru’s shoulders. You meet his hungry gaze with one of your own and inch closer toward his dick that rests against his stomach. What you’re about to do could be risky, but at this given moment you couldn’t find it in you to be overly stressed about it.

“No worries,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, “I trust you enough to pull out in time.” And like that, you push down on him and ease Satoru’s cock into your aching cunt, making him bottom out inside you completely.

You’re so wet and slippery that it took little to no effort for him to slide inside. The noise of your slick sticking to where you two meet at the hips has you two moaning softly in unison.

The harsh mutter of your name echoes off your bedroom walls and goes straight to your cunt. “So tight,” he grits out behind clenched, white teeth.

Each time you slide up and down on his cock, Satoru grows more unrestrained with his vocal appreciation of how well you take him. Desperate little moans escape him each time your sweet cunt squeezes him of all he’s worth.

You were no better. Choppy, broken whimpers can be heard from you, loving how he stretches your walks with your length. He fits perfectly inside you like your cunt was destined for this moment, for him alone. 

“Let me fuck you,” Satoru blurts out. He was losing it, and he could feel him tipping closer and closer to the edge of release.

“You are— Ugn!” you say weakly when his hands grab your ass and he stands, lifting you with him as if it were nothing. Kicking off his bottoms, Satoru props you on your back against your mattress.

 Crawling between your legs, he positions the crown of his cock to press against your opening. “No,” he drawls, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other propped beside your head. “Let me fuck you.”

He pushes in and you swear you see stars. 

Satoru pistons himself faster and faster inside of you, rocking your bodies against the mattress which makes your wooden headboard tap noisily against your drywall.

You fear your neighbours may have some… less than pleasant words to share with you about the noise tomorrow morning. 

“Ah! Fuuucking— shit!” You wail. Euphoric tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, please!”

The pleasure melts through you when Satoru presses down harder into you, his hand finding the back of your right knee and hikes your leg around his waist so that he can fill you at a new angle.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your neck. He says it like you’ve been his for years. “Say my name.”

“S—Satoru!”

Laughing a little, probably too fucked out of his mind, Satoru removes his face from your neck and presses a hot, searing kiss onto your lips.

You yelp when he drives his cock more harshly into you, growing more desperate with the urgency to come inside you.

Riding his high, Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a long drawn-out, “Haaa…”

What Satoru meant to accomplish was to wish you another ‘Happy Birthday’, but of course, it all gets garbled up in his throat due to his approaching orgasm and comes out sounding fucking obscene.

That’s what gets you.

You come hard, your back bowing off the bed. Satoru, remembering your initial statement about how you trust him to pull out, does exactly that. Albeit, he did it at the very last second, but you avoided a pregnancy scare. So you can’t be mad.

Thick ropes of his cum splash across your bare belly and some get on your top. You’re hyperaware of how it trickles down your abdomen, some dipping into your belly button.

Wow.

Breathing hard and heavy, both coated in sweat among… other sensual fluids, Satoru rolls onto his back.

“Stuck with me for life, huh?” he asks, delicate fingers intertwined with yours. 

You hum. “Seems so…” you agree quietly. 

Now that you think about it, there hasn’t ever been a moment where Gojo Satoru hadn’t been present in your life, ever since meeting him during your high school days.

You two lay like that for some time, soaking in each other’s company until the early traces of morning light ripple through your curtains.

You’re about ready to shut your eyes until your thoughts are accosted by something you offhandedly forgot. 

“Satoru?” you begin, tone nice and sweet.

“Hm?”

You sit up slowly so you can peer down at his blissed-out face. “By chance, was the cake you got for me made out of ice cream?”

You know how deep his love for sweets goes. You just pray and hope to whatever higher power that he chose the safe route and chose a normal ca—

“…Yeah, why?”

Jumping out of bed, you rush to the living room where the cake is probably spilling its guts out all over your expensive, mahogany coffee table. “You IDIOT!” 

A string of curses follows you out into the hallway, as Satoru sits on your bed confused.

“What’d I do?!”

Whether you liked it or not, you were stuck with this bumbling idiot if he had any say in the matter, an invisible string keeping you two bound.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Even if it’s at the cost of your ¥20,000 table.

if you read to the end we're making out.

© do not copy/plagiarize/translate/use ai on my work.

[euthymiya]

“Did you know—”

“I don’t care,” Sukuna interrupts, wholly disinterested. It’s half past three—(which is, of course, his fault, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less tired).

But you, wholly uncaring, promptly ignore him. “—That some female spiders eat the male ones after mating?”

“What do you want me to do with this information?” He looks at you irritably, glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. You flash him a grin—it’s a mischievous little thing, your lips curled in a cheeky, flirty way that warns him silently that he’s about to risk popping another vein. He seems to do that around you quite often, and it certainly feels like it’s underway once more.

(And, as it always is, his intuition would be right).

“It’s a warning,” you hum.

He snorts, raising a clearly disbelieving brow as he hums, “oh yeah? For what? Are you gonna—wha-hey!”

Not a lot catches Sukuna off guard. You giggle as he barks out a surprised yelp of your name, harshly shoving you away from his chest. There’s a nice, fresh, very crystal and very clear outline of your teeth marked right on the flesh surrounding his nipple.

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks incredulously.

You let out a soft, amused little giggle that sounds through the room before he feels your weight shift and fall onto him, making him grunt as his arms steady you and his eyes stare up at your hovering face with an agitated purse of his lips.

“I’m eating you,” you say cheekily, “see?” For emphasis, you leave an equally as shocking bite to his bicep, your head leaning down to get a mouthful of his bare arm. He lets out a low, startled grunt before one large and very firm hand grabs the back of your neck and yanks you off.

“Have you completely lost it?” He hisses.

“We just mated—”

“Who on Earth talks about sex like that? We are not animals who—”

“—And now I’m going to eat you after mating. Like a female spider.”

“If you’re going to be weird, just go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles lowly.

Sukuna is tired.

(And yes, the reason is partly because he’s a bit inexhaustible once he’s felt the velvet heat of your walls, and yes, it’s technically his own greediness that’s worn him out so physically for the night. But that’s all been the cost for something of greater benefit to him. Something he doesn’t exactly mind draining his energy for.

Bur your odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird schemes are not a part of the list of things he’s willing to sacrifice his energy for. There isn’t much pleasure in entertaining your nonsense most of the time.

If anything, there’s pain—the stinging bite marks on his skin can attest to that.)

“I’m not tired,” you hum.

“Then let me make you tired,” he offers smugly, lips tugging into a cocky grin as he looks up at you.

“If you didn’t manage that the first time, what makes you think that’ll work the second?” You tease.

He doesn’t seem to like that very much, because with a growl, he pushes the back of your neck until your face falls into the crook of his neck, a strong, bulky arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place against his body.

It’d be awfully intimate, and awfully sweet if he didn’t mumble, “I love when you sleep because it’s the only few hours of the day I get to hear you shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe if you’d just appreciated my fun fact—”

“You bit my fucking nipple.”

“I could bite the other one, too, if you want,” you pipe up with an excited grin. He can feel it pressed against his skin as your face buries deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Sukuna is tired. Most of the time, it’s because of you. All of the time, he chooses to allow it because he likes having you around for a good fuck.

(And, of course, there’s all that bullshit about love and affection, too. But that’s just that odd stuff you like to babble about—that odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird emotional part of you that somehow ropes him into being the same way every once in a while.

He doesn’t like it.)

“You need a lobotomy,” he mutters, wincing when you bite the skin of his neck in response. Not in a manner he likes, either—very much in a manner that makes sure he feels the sharpness of your incisors.

“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “I’m biologically meant to be your predator.”

“You biologically give me fuckin’ migraines.”

You grin—it’s a smile that’s easy. Smooth. Maybe a little giddy, too. It comes out only around Sukuna. Him and his gruff, rugged way of accepting your affection, and his double as rough and crude way of giving it back. His callused hands and toughened knuckles that brush along your cheeks carefully. His crass and undignified words that are carefully thought out enough to never cross the line. His downturned lips and narrowed eyes that only ever soften at the sharp corners around you.

“Next time, I’ll eat you for sure,” you murmur, settling against his chest and getting comfortable. He wraps both arms around you, warm and tight enough that you almost think you can forgo the blanket altogether. “Assert my dominance.”

“You can’t even open the pickle jar.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s only a matter of time until natural selection gets you,” he snickers quietly. You huff, biting back a smile as he yawns.

Gently, with a kiss over the bite mark you left against his neck, you say softly, “goodnight. Love you.”

“Night.”

“I love you.”

“For the love of—love you too, holy fuck. Go to sleep.”

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Nanami who drops to his knees the moment he arrives home, the feeling in his chest; indescribable because he knew his wife was upset… so very upset…

He loathed the guilt that clung to him as he had to work late and miss the date they planned just a few days prior. The front door creaked open as you heard him tiredly shuffle in, tossing his keys onto the counter with a bit more force than he intended. He rolled his neck side to side, in a futile attempt to release some of the stiffness in his muscles. He kicks off his shoes, not bothering to bend down and untie the laces, before commencing his walk of shame to your shared bedroom. 

Each step felt heavier, causing his heart to only beat faster every second. A thin sheet of sweat began to form on his brow as he approached closer and closer to the room. His fingers, diligently thread into his tie to pull it undone, tossing it mindlessly on the floor. A few buttons of his shirt came undone but it did nothing to relieve the growing tightness in his chest. He hesitantly reached for the door knob, and with a deep breath he opened the door as slowly as possible. 

And there you were. The soft light of the room revealed your silhouette as you sat up on the bed, your arms crossed over your chest tightly, as your eyes bored into him like daggers. No, you weren’t actually upset and he had obviously a good reason for his absence, but it was the first time he missed something like this– and the sting of it lingered in the room. 

He tentatively stepped closer to you, his expression full of guilt and desperation, like a puppy who had been scolded. The weight of an unspoken apology creeping on him. 

“Darling… I’m sorry," he whispered, barely audible. But he knew it wasn’t enough. No reaction from you, you wouldn't even turn to look at him, the silence between the both of you was suffocating. His fingers graze over your hand as his knees buckled, threatening to give away under the weight of guilt.

He falls to his knees before you, taking your hand in his. “Please, look at me, honey…” pleading eyes looking up at you, raw emotion in his voice as he presses a soft kiss on your delicate hand. His fingers intertwined with yours as you finally grace him with your gaze, the eyes he so dearly loved finally on him. His grip was soft yet pleading, almost as if he was afraid you’d let go. 

“I feel terrible…” kiss “It will never…” kiss “happen again…” kiss

Each one of his kisses had you in trance and you truly believed him, Nanami wasn’t the man to tell you empty words. You look down at the mess of the man on his knees for you, your hand comes to his cheek, caressing it. 

“I forgive you…” You utter, as you look at him, into his eyes of honey. 

Those three words…

That was all he needed to hear. His breath was caught in his throat and for a moment he just stared at you before taking a deep breath. Relief washes over him and all the guilt slowly disappears. His head drops into your thighs and rests there a moment, still holding your hands. 

“I will spend an eternity making it up to you…” he finally speaks up. His statement makes you smile. You thought he was joking but he wasn’t. 

“Starting now,” he declares, a spark of confidence returning to his body. 

Without breaking eye contact, he lowered his head down, his lips brushing softly against your knees. His kisses are tender and calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing. His lips trailed along your thighs, the warmth of his breath sending soft shivers up your skin. 

You sighed softly, your fingers threading through his hair, delicately pushing it back from his face. You wanted to see him, to really look at him, at the man you loved now between your legs. 

His kisses trailed higher and higher. Nanami was a smart man. He knew just what to do and how to ease the weight of the situation from your mind, to make you forget. 

“You’re so gorgeous” He mumbles in between kisses. A red tint creeping up on your face at those simple words. “But you know that already, don’t you?” he presses a kiss just below your navel. “I tell you everyday…” He whispers, right into the heat between your legs. Your back arches up off the mattress and he knew he just had to have you already.

“May I?” he asks, his pointer finger hovering right over where you needed him most. You gave him a quick nod and that was all he needed. He slowly slides your panties down your legs before begging to devour you, entirely. 

Nanami learned everything that made his pretty girl feel good, and he planned to do everything tonight. Every flick of his skilled tongue had you in a chokehold, the way he held your legs open with his strong arms all while still on his knees. He explored every inch of you, lapping up everything you gave him, his fingers joining in to only make you feel that much better. 

Orgasm after orgasm had your mind hazy but Nanami had to make sure you knew he was sorry. And he did make good on his promise. He never ever forgot again.