#did you know that in his universe not only were utterances of any sort of deviation beyond the norm considered to be punishable by severe

[frittercrittern]

I am feeling entirely normal and nothing is going on at ALL in my brain about this triangle and his horrible awful dimension he is from

[hiraethwrote]

NEVER GOT YOUR NAME

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader ✧ summary: based of this drabble — you're ex is borderline harassing you. he just will not leave you alone, and in a desperate attempt to get him off your back, you tell a little white lie. in panic, you grab the first stranger to walk by and introduce him as your date ✧ cw: fluff, light profanity, one little comment about previous sexual relationship, arguing, word vomit ngl (i'm describing too much sorry) pining, reader is smaller than satoru, mild use of petnames, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 3.5k

He was a menace. A true and genuine menace, who seemed to have some sort of natural ability in finding you, no matter where you were.

Maybe getting a restraining order was the next step — there was no way he managed to just randomly run into at the rate that he was, whether that was in the grocery store, the gas station or just on the street. No, he had to be stalking you, right? The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give this guy, your god awful ex, the privilege of fulfilling his desires of bumping into you.

Yet, here you stood in front of him again.

His eyebrows pinched together, an innocent little smirk tilting his mouth crooked, feeding you the same lines he always did.

“Great seeing you again,” like you hadn’t ran into him not even three days ago. “You look fantastic, as always. How’ve you been, sweets?” Urgh, one of the many nicknames he had named you — your stomach turning at the sound of it. You were scared you might actually hurl.

“Stop calling me that,” you demanded, keeping your voice low. He always managed to bring your anger right to the surface, to which you had to use all your energy not to blow up in his face. It had already happened once, about two months after you broke up with him. You had raised your voice at him and lashed out, causing some random bystander to interfere — who had then proceed to take his side. Unbelievable, as if he wasn’t the one who had taken you for granted for the entirety of your relationship.

“Sorry, old habits die hard, you know.” So full of shit. You’d been broken up for months, there shouldn’t have been any problem dropping the pet names. He only did it as a tactic to try and manipulate you into his arms again. And to think you willingly used to sleep with this guy. “Since we’re both here, why don’t we grab lunch together?”

“Oh, please,” you breathed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll be good for us, sweets-“ don’t punch him, don’t punch him, don’t punch him. “Maybe we can talk some things-“

“I’m actually here on a date!”

Finally he shut up, only for his face to twist into an expression of pure disgust. It was clear the idea had never even crossed his mind — and you would have been able to enjoy his agony had it not been for the fact that it was a complete and utter lie, thrown out in a moment of desperation.

What were you to do when your ex decided to wait around for your date to arrive, and he never showed? You could already picture his face — the patronising pity he would pay you, while you’d be able to read his satisfaction behind his eyes, as he would use it against you for months to come.

You had only bought yourself some time and you needed to think fast.

“Who? I mean, do I know them? Have you met them before?” He stuttered out questions of bewilderment as your limbs were growing ever more frantic at your side.

And then the bell above the entrance of the cafe chimed a sweet tune, eyes snapping towards the sound. “Ah, there he is!” Your arms acted on their own accord, hands grabbing onto the bicep of the person who had been so unfortunate to walk in right as you were spiralling.

Swallowing the worst of your anxiety, you dared turn your head towards the random person, hoping to god he wasn’t ugly (because that would just be yet another thing your ex would badger you about).

Due to his height, you had to angle your head more than expected to meet his piercing eyes that were ogling you with complete confusion — but you only had time to take in his appearance for a slit second before you shot him a pleading look, betting everything on the off chance that he would be able to read the situation — but also finding it in himself to play along to your little performance.

Your fingers squeezed lightly at his arm, bringing him back to reality. Then it only took him a second to make up his mind, the white haired stranger wiping off his confusion and confidently throwing his muscular arm across your shoulders. Once he turned to face your ex, he had painted his features with the smuggest grin one could imagine, revealing a charming dimple.

He tilted forward slightly, which only brought more attention to how much taller he was than your ex, and shot his hand out between them. “Satoru, pleasure to meet you.” His tone matched his expression, not a single speckle of insecurity to pick up on anywhere. Your ex stared at his hand with disdain before begrudgingly accepting the gesture and introducing himself in return. “Hm, don’t think she’s mentioned you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, not expecting this Satoru to take his role so seriously — and then put on an award winning show right off the bat, nonetheless. Was it finally your turn to be blessed by the universe with some good karma in the shape of the most perfect stranger to deal with the situation?

Turning to take a quick glance at your ex, you had to press your lips together to choke back the cackle that threatened to escape. His expression was priceless, Satoru’s innocent little comment rolling of his tongue so effortlessly, causing a slight twitch in your ex’s eye.

“Well, I’m her-“ then he cleared his throat, struggling to finish his sentence. You weren’t surprised his title died in his throat, having never really accepted the fact that the relationship with over.

“He’s my ex,” you said, finding some courage to casually place your hand on Satoru’s chest, hoping and begging you weren’t making him uncomfortable by crossing a line.

“Aaah, your ex,” this Satoru trialed off with an awkward raise of the eyebrows before he turned to look at you again. That’s when you finally got to take a proper look at his breathtaking eyes, the whole ocean trapped in his irises. But you couldn’t let yourself fall completely mesmerised — you shook off the affect his piercing eyes seemed to have. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I stopped by the bookstore down the street to see if they had that book you recommended on our first date.” Then he served you what seemed like a genuine smile.

Stop, not the time to admire the handsome stranger!

You bashfully tilted your head forward while the sweetest chuckle traveled past your lips, also having to sell the performance. “How sweet of you to remember.”

“Of course!” He smoothly removed his arm from your shoulder to slide it along your back, moving it in comforting circles — but he never let it travel too far.

Your ex had his glare glued to Satoru’s gesture, unable to look away no matter how badly he wanted to.

“Never got around to that one,” your ex said with an awkward, forced laugh in an attempt to shift the attention back to him. He probably thought he was being charming (he always thought he was), but his little comment only gave you another reminder to why you had broken up with him — he never cared about your interests, as he couldn’t be bothered to pick up your favourite book, no matter how many times you had asked him if he could at least give it a try.

“Huh, how unfortunate.” Again, your ex couldn’t conceal the little reaction Satoru caused in his face by his incredibly taunting tone.

He cleared his throat again, and you could see how he was grasping at straws trying to redeem himself. “So, what do you have planned?” It wasn’t too obvious, but you could tell — you could tell he asked as a challenge, certain your “date” wouldn’t be able to suffice an answer that would leave him satisfied.

You opened your mouth to answer, but only managed to take a breath before Satoru had already started his lengthy explanation. “Well, first I’m taking her out for lunch, obviously,” he mused, taking a quick glance around your surroundings. “And I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I got us entrance tickets for the botanical garden uptown. She told me she’s been wanting to go for months.” Then he turned to look at you.

He said it with such a genuine smile painting the corner of his lips, both of you letting the eye contact linger for a second. For once you were thankful for your ex, because if it wasn’t for him drawing Satoru’s alluring eyes away, you were scared you might just have found yourself swooning a little.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” your ex chuckled in response with a nonchalant eye roll, “she might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Hm,” Satoru huffed, sucking in his cheeks and eyeing him up and down

Pathetic was really the only word that Satoru would use to best describe the individual in front of him. He just seemed so puny, reeking of insecurity, only amplified by how he had so easily went along with the lie of a botanical garden — something Satoru had just pulled from the top of his head.

A huge, nervous lump traveled down his throat as Satoru held his gaze hostage, his dominant behaviour easily smothering any sprinkle of confidence your ex might have possessed at one point — all by just being there. And it was just so satisfying that it was finally your turn to watch your no-good ex being the one who was tormented for once.

“Well-“ his voice cracked the slightest, Satoru pursing his lips in amusement at the little slip, “I have to get going now. I’ll see you around,” stumbling over his words as his face shyly grew redder. Then he just turned on his heel and left, leaving no time for you to even say goodbye.

Satoru instantly felt your body relax at his side with a deep exhale, the hand that had shyly rested on his chest with modesty falling the second the door was shut — and once you took a step in front of him, he became hyper aware of how close to him you had been the entire time. With the sudden absence of your body next to his, he realised how perfectly you had just seemed to fit next to him. Nearly as if you had been made simply to be by his side.

And stood in front of him, he finally got the chance to take a look at you. A proper look at you, and damn, you were beautiful. Your eyes were kind, which amazed him considering the unpleasant encounter that had just taken place.

The chuckle you’d faked along with his act was still resting on your lips, but now it definitely seemed more real — warm.

“Thank you so much!” You gushed, “I am so sorry I just dragged you into that! I was panicking.”

Satoru watched intently as you spoke, unable to peer his eyes off you. His attention held on to every syllable, entirely captivated by your person, eyes roaming your face to take in every little detail there was to observe.

“Shit,” you suddenly interrupted yourself, taking a glance at your watch.

“I never caught-“

“I really wish I could stay and treat you for lunch, as thanks,” you cut him off, seemingly not even acknowledging how he had tried to speak, rummaging through your bag frantically before pulling out your wallet, “but because of him I’m running late. So, here, take this,” you chuckled lightly while stuffing his hands full of cash. “I really appreciate what you did!” Satoru was barely able to decode what you were saying as it all came tumbling out in one breath.

Continuing to spew a string of thank you’s, you quickly backed out of the cafe, his eyes following you as you jogged lightly down the street and out of sight.

Satoru was left utterly baffled, simply ogling the vacated spot you had occupied seconds ago.

Of all the times Satoru would end up tongue tied, this was the worst possible moment — he was cursing himself relentlessly for not being quick enough to demand a name, and now you were just gone, some random person he’d been lucky enough to cross paths with for a moment.

He knew he should just get on with his day — use the money you had gifted him and buy himself that sweet treat he wanted and forget about you. But he couldn’t — he wouldn't.

Had you just decided to walk into a random cafe you had just so happened to walk past that particular day?

Satoru certainly thought so. Because when he couldn’t rid you from his mind, he had gone back to that very same cafe, childlike optimism filling his body while he lingered the area, waiting for your figure to show.

It never did.

His patience quickly ran out, growing more restless every day that passed where he didn’t see you stroll down the street to return to the cafe to grab the lunch you never got to have.

He couldn’t let it rest in the hands of the universe any longer. After days of casually stalking the area, he decided to strut through the entrance of the building to simply ask.

“And how can I help you today, sir?” The sweet girl behind the counter mused, the perfect customer service smile greeting him as he leaned his entire weight in the edge of the counter.

“Hi there, remember me?”

He saw her shoulders rise slightly as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” yet another polite smile.

“I was in here about three weeks ago. Was with this really pretty girl-“

“Sir,” she gently interrupted him, still the same smile on her face, “we see hundred of faces every day. We have no way of remembering them all.”

His head fell back dramatically, huffing in disappointment as his fingers flexed against the marble top. “Thanks, anyway,” he mumbled quietly, shuffling over to a secluded table in the corner, sulking in his lonesome while his eyes were locked on the door, still filled with a light glimmer of hope that you would show.

It became routine — sitting in the same corner in the back, ordering the same thing while he waited for three hours everyday before he eventually had to leave, with a heavy heart, to attend to his duties.

And if the nice barista didn’t recognise him before, she definitely did now, walking over to his table and serving him his plate with a sympathetic smile. “No show today either?” The most theatrical sigh would leave his lips every time she asked the question, sad puppy dog eyes on display as he shook his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s getting a little sad, don’t you think?” Her coworker would comment once she rejoined her behind the counter, both of them keeping an eye on him with pinched eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a little romantic.”

Then they would share a look, some judgement passing between their eyes before they burst into innocent laughter, wondering how long they would get to witness his yearning before he eventually gave up his dreams of finding you again.

For days, Satoru’s head would snap towards the door every time the tiny bell rang, witnessing all sorts of people come to enjoy a little treat but not a single one of them fit your description.

Maybe this was just too hopeless? Tokyo was the most populated city in the world — bumping into the same person twice was like finding a needle in a high stack. Scratch that, it was like finding a rice grain in the great Sahara desert. But he kept praying, hoping the universe would bless him with his desire.

It was a perfectly okay day.

The temperature was nice — higher than expected for a mid-fall day — but the weather wasn’t much to brag about. For the past week it had been raining. Not pouring, but a light, constant drizzle that tapped quietly against the cafe window as Satoru stared mindlessly out at the scenery of concrete buildings and trees changing colour.

There was only a single string of hope that kept him sitting in that chair day after day, but it was destined to break soon. His head didn’t even turn towards the door anymore when that little bell rang with the familiar chime. He simply rested his chin in the palm of his hand, giving all the responsibility back to the universe.

The familiar barista came to his table, picking up the plate littered with only crumps and not one, but two, empty coffee mugs (that had been more sugar than coffee).

“Same time tomorrow?” She asked sweetly, wiping the table clean while balancing the dishes in her other hand.

He instantly wiped away his disappointment, plastering on the most convincing smile he could muster as he turned to face her. “I don’t think so.” She stared wide eyed at him, mouth parted into a shy ‘o’, a little disappointed to see him finally give up, having started to root for him a long time ago. “You’ve had exceptional service,” he beamed from ear to ear as he got up from his chair, her eyes never leaving him as he stood to tower over her.

He gave her one last tight lipped smile as he passed her. “Goodbye,” she stuttered quietly, keeping her pitying gaze on him as he headed for the exit.

The bell rang one last time, and Satoru was a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hear the obnoxiously high-pitching ding again — his relief short lasted as he crashed into a figure smaller than himself the second he was about to exit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching- well, if it isn’t my knight in shining armour!”

What were the chances?

After all those days — waiting, staring, stuffing his face with sweets — and to think he was just about to give up. Maybe the universe had finally decided to take pity on him, wanting to reward his patience.

You looked as breathtaking as the day you had desperately latched onto his arm — maybe even better. You seemed lighter almost, as if someone had lifted off pounds from your shoulders. Same kind eyes, but a sense of peace glossing over them instead of frustration.

“It’s you,” it fell from his lips involuntary.

“In the flesh,” you chuckled. The sweet, vibrating sound faded into a clear of the throat when Satoru only continued to ogle you without a word. “Oh, sorry, you were leaving-“ you stuttered, stepping aside to let him pass. You were left confused when he didn’t walk past you, but rather kept his glare on you.

“I never got your name.”

“Sorry?” You asked, his voice too quiet to pick up on.

The same smug grin you’d seen on his face so many weeks ago greeted you, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “I never got your name,” more assertive now that he had increased his volume.

“Oh,” you said shyly, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Eyeing his attractive smile, you let your name roll off your tongue before mirroring his expression of happiness.

If it was even possible, his smile stretched even further across his face, the dimples you’d noticed last time appearing on each side of his face. “Nice to finally meet you. Properly this time.”

His natural charm just steamed off him in abundance, something you had only appreciated in glimpses in your stressed haze. “You too,” you smiled.

“I haven’t seen you here since that day.”

“Well, that’s because I haven’t been here since then,” you chucked nervously, glancing towards the register when you felt some interrogating eyes on you — both of the girls behind the counter wringing their heads away from you and Satoru. “My ex has had a tendency to linger in areas we ‘bump’ into each other,” you raise your fingers to gesture the quotation marks, “but I actually think meeting you might have scared him off for good. Haven’t seen him since, so thank you again.”

“Truly my pleasure,” he straightened his posture, his height growing even more impressive. He spoke your name, and despite not really knowing you, he said it with a tenderness your ex always lacked. “I was wondering,” he took a step closer, his eyes flittering between yours, “I owe you a trip to a botanical garden, don’t you think?”

Your breath instantly hitched in your throat, heat spreading modestly across your face.

Of course the handsome stranger who had come to your rescue in a moment of genuine despair had crossed your mind from time to time since then — you had just come to terms with the fact you would never be as lucky to cross paths with the polite stranger again. And the part of you that had been plagued with embarrassment was okay with that.

But the excitement in his eyes as he waited for you to answer slowly erased the uncomfortable feeling.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

tags (taglist form) @sad-darksoul ﾉ @05-simply-06-simping ﾉ @geniejunn ﾉ @alixris ﾉ @shadava

@gdamnackerman ﾉ @sunfl0werlevi ﾉ @gojonegs ﾉ @m0nsterzl0ve

@cupidxml ﾉ @lashaemorow ﾉ @cirquedelooney ﾉ @itsinherited

@elenor222 ﾉ @mima0127 ﾉ @lem-hhn ﾉ @mechanicalmari

a/n it's finally here and i think i'm happy with it... not entirely sure. think i've seen myself blind on this fic. however, thank you so much for the reception on the little drabble that took me literally ten minutes to write, hope this lives up to your expectations <3 likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[call-sign-jinx]

Theodore Nott X Reader - What of it?

summary - you and theo were best friends. but when you both got accepted into hogwarts but sorted into different house. you made a promise to each other to stay together. after theo made new friends he broke his promise. now you and theo compete against each in quidditch and academically. until he badly hurts you in a match. will he change his ways? or stay the same person he now is?

warnings - the war did not happen, arguing, mentions of injury, mentions of hurting, slight hufflepuff hate, fluff

Main Masterlist Theodore Nott Masterlist

a/n - this is based off of this ask, hope y'all enjoy becos i LUV this idea. ta ta my lovelies! xx

theodore nott x fem!reader

Nott and I had a history. We used to be best friends. Our houses were very close to each other growing up. And we were both accepted into Hogwarts when we were 11. He had run to my house and banged on the door 'til somebody answered to see if I had gotten a letter as well. We were so excited to go to school together. We hoped, prayed and begged that the universe would put us into the same house as soon as we were in the castle.

When Nott was placed in Slytherin and I was placed in Ravenclaw, we both promised each other we'd still hang out together every chance we could.

We both kept our promise. Until he became close friends with Malfoy. That's when the time he'd spend with me began to fade into less and less amounts. Until we never saw each other outside of lesson.

Now, I'm glad he didn't keep his promise. He's turned into a right dickhead ever since he became friends with Malfoy. We're in 7th year now, he hangs out with Malfoy and his lot. And I'm friends with the Weasley twins, Luna Lovegood and Delilah Halifax from my Quidditch team, we also share a room along with Luna. Although I only have 4 friends, I'm fine with it. I like when my circle is small.

It's lunchtime in the Great Hall and all of us are sat together. Although we're only supposed to sit at our House tables, the twins sit with me, Luna and Delilah at the Ravenclaw table. Delilah couldn't have lunch with us today, she decided to get some extra practice before the game later today.

"So Y/N, you ready to get beat at our Quidditch match on Friday?" I shake my head and laugh at Fred's cocky behaviour.

"That's if we beat Slytherin today first. So you should be the ones getting ready to lose cause Slytherin is an easy obstacle to get over." Fred and George mock fear and huddle together. That's until they both had disgusted looks on their faces.

I turned to see who they were giving dirty looks to, and it was perfectly understandable. It was Nott, Malfoy and Zabini. Nott and Malfoy had disgusted looks on their faces while Zabini didn't show any emotion at all. Sometimes I wondered if he was a robot.

"You seriously think you can beat us? We're ten times better than you even if we had only three people on our team." Malfoy laughs at us, Nott along with him. God, they were so annoying.

"That's rich seeing as you got beaten by Hufflepuff last month, and not to be rude to them but we know how bad they are." Malfoy and Nott stopped laughing. Obviously struck a nerve there.

"They cheated, of course they were going to beat us if they were cheating." Hufflepuff did not cheat baring in mind. Nott looked me up and down with utter distaste all over his face. I put my middle finger up at him and turned back to Fred and George.

"It doesn't matter who wins, it's just a game." Luna says to the Slytherin boys, trying to diffuse the situation. They look at her and burst out laughing.

"Oh pipe down Loony Lovegood, go chase some fargles or whatever you call them." Nott's words make Luna look down in embarrassment.

I stand up from the bench and get toe to toe with Nott. I was pissed. I'm fine him picking on me but when he picks on Luna. That's when I get pissed off.

"You better walk away Nott, or I swear to God." I looked at him with pure hate. My nostrils were flared, jaw and fists clenched, my back rigid, shoulders pulled back. He smirked then scoffed at me. What a prick.

"Come on, wasting our time on freaks like them." And with that, they turned away from us and walked to their table. I sat back down with Luna and the twins, and fake gagged.

"Cannot believe I used to be mates with him." The twins laughed while Luna smiled and then continued reading The Quibble.

"I can't either, you're the complete opposite of him. He's a massive dickhead, and you're not." I laughed at George's statement. But when I actually thought about it. I always wondered how and why he became like this. I mean, a lot can happen in 7 years but he changed drastically in the first year and has stayed the same since.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

It was 5 minutes before the match started between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I was quite nervous, I really wanted to win this game. I had my broom in hand and was practicing my breathing techniques to calm me down. I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was Delilah, one of my closest friends on the Quidditch team.

"You're going to be amazing Y/N, don't freak out. You're literally one of our best players." I gave Delilah a tight lipped smile and that's when I heard the music, signaling for us all to come out and onto the pitch.

Ravenclaw flew up first and we all took positions, I was a beater. Then Slytherin followed and did the same, Nott was a beater as well. I just knew he'll try to pull the little trick he did our last match against each other.

Last match, he got one of the Slytherin girls to put a jinx on my broom, causing my broom to try and throw me off of it, but I had a firm grip and luckily I didn't go flying.

The whistle blew, starting the game. I still couldn't get control of my breathing, I don't know what was wrong with me today. I focused as much as I could.

The game was going quite well for us, the score was 50-30 to Ravenclaw. To put it simply we were winning. No one on our team had gotten hit by a bludger, pushed off their broomstick or anything like that. Yet.

I saw a bludger going straight towards Delilah so I flew over to her as fast as I could and successfully hit it in a different direction. She nodded her head at me with a smile but the smile soon turned to fear.

"Y/N! Look-" Before she could finish her sentence I was hit in the head very hard with something and was knocked clean out.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

I wake up in the medical wing, I had no idea how I got here and looked around to see if I could ask anyone what happened. Until I saw the twins, practically running to my bed.

"Blimey Y/N we thought you had died. Took a right hit didn't you?" Fred said, with that cheeky smile he and George always have on their faces.

"Did Ravenclaw win?" Was the first thing I said. God I sound like a right weirdo only caring about a game. Fred and George laughed.

"Jesus Y/N, that's the first thing you think about when you wake up?" I gave George a look and Fred elbowed him slightly while trying to hold back a grin.

"But yes, you did win. And Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor as well." I was confused. It's past Friday? How long have I been out for?

"Wait... What even happened? And how long have I been out?" I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head and realised my arm was in a sling.

"Nott hit a bludger to the back of your head. You were out in seconds. Then you went falling and falling and then you hit the ground and you'd be able to hear the sound it made from Luna's house." George explained to me, my eyes widened. What the fuck? I get that Nott and I don't like each other but that is low, even for him.

"And you were out for about 2 weeks. You've never been hurt that long it was like a bloody coma." Fred piped up. He then paused, as if he wanted to say something.

"What? Tell me." George and Fred looked to each other, silently asking each other if they should tell me.

"Nott visited you every day after the match." They both answered in unison. I didn't know how to react. Why would he visit me?

"Did you ever ask him why?" They both shook their head 'no' in unison.

"Didn't want to get a bludger to the head like you did Trouble." Fred's words made me giggle. But the question always stuck in the back of my head for the rest of the day.

Why?

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It's been around three days since I woke up from my 'mini coma,' as the twins call it. Madame Pomfrey told me that I shouldn't go to Quidditch practice or move my arm until the potion she gave me wears off. Delilah checked up on me whenever she could though, she was very kind.

Luna has been by my side ever since I was allowed to go back to attending my lessons, said she "wanted to protect me." Bless her soul.

She was walking me to my potions lesson, which was second period, because she had a free period and had nothing else to do. While I was walking and checking my bag for everything I needed, she was skipping alongside me looking at the walls and everything around her. She was in her own little world.

When we finally got to the room I had to be in, dread filled my whole entire body. Snape had changed the seating plan and had placed me next to Nott. How wonderful.

I said bye to Luna and walked into the room, Nott was already there. And he was staring at me. God I really hope he doesn't take the piss cause after what he did I won't care that he visited me.

I sat down in my seat next to Nott and got my books and quill out. There was such an uncomfortable silence between us but I did not want to talk to him at all.

Snape began teaching his lesson like usual, until he said that we were making a potion. In the pairs we were placed in. Meaning I was paired with Nott. Could my day get any fucking worse?

We had to make a Wit-Sharpening potion. This is probably what I missed cause what the fuck even is that? And that is when I realised we had to talk to each other.

"You know what to do?" Nott finally piped up. Damn, didn't think he'd actually talk to me unless it was something rude.

"Not at all if I'm being honest." Nott nodded in response. I just stayed sat in my seat and let him make the potion, only passing him things if they were too far out of his reach.

The lesson went by quickly, thank God. And it was also break, so I'd be meeting the twins, Luna and Delilah in our usual spot at the courtyard.

When I reached the courtyard, all of them were already there and my usual seat on the bench was still vacant. Buzzing.

"Hey there girly." Delilah greeted me as she walked up to me and gave me a hug. We both pulled away at the same time.

"First day back going good?" My face answered her question. I looked exhausted and annoyed at the same time.

"Snape changed the seating plan so I have to sit next to the biggest dickhead I've ever had the displeasure of meeting." She immediately knew who it was and let out a slight chuckle.

We both then headed over to Luna and the twins and enjoyed our break. The twins were playing pranks on people, me and Delilah were talking about anything and everything, and Luna was reading an unnamed book. This is how we liked it. Although we were focused on different things, it was still spending time together.

Break then ended so we all had to go to our lessons. Luna and George had DAD, Delilah had Transfiguration, and me and Fred had a free period, luckily.

On our walk back to the courtyard, something popped into my head. And my first thought was to ask Fred.

"Why do you think Nott visited me? Do you think it's just because he felt bad?" Fred raised a brow at me, confused as to why I would even care.

"If you want to find that out, Trouble, you'll have to ask him for that. I groaned. I just wanted to find out without talking to him.

"Why do you want to know anyway? Think he likes you?" Fred gasped and put his hands on his mouth, when he finally took them off his mouth he asked, "Or do you like him?" I slapped Fred on the shoulder and gave him a dirty look. Of course I didn't like him, did I? All I think about is him, but only because he's a prick and all he does is be a dickhead towards me. That's what I told myself anyway.

"I don't know to be honest, it's just... In the past few years, he hasn't cared about a single thing I do. And now I find out he visited me every day while I was in the hospital wing." Fred nodded in understanding and we left it at that.

We finally made it back to the courtyard and sat down on our bench. But, as soon as me and Fred settled down in the courtyard after walking everyone to their lessons, Fred got called to Professor McGonagall's office. Great, he's going to be forever if it's McGonagall. Now I have to spend 2 hours on my own.

I thought I'd just walk around the castle and try and find a new place I haven't been to yet, but I've been everywhere we possibly could go when I used to skip lessons with the twins.

When I turned round a corner, I saw Nott, just leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette. Gross. That's when Fred's words played back in my head. "You'll have to ask him for that." Maybe I should. Before I could even make a decision my feet were already walking me over to him.

He saw me, put out his cigarette, put his hands in his pockets then turned his body to face me fully.

"What? Want to argue with me bout some-" I cut him off before he could even say something snarky, which earned an annoyed look from him.

"Why did you visit me in the hospital wing?" His face went a shade lighter. He thought no one except Madame Pomfrey had seen him and he had asked her to keep it between them. Then he thought. The twins.

"What of it? It's a need to know basis anyway Y/L/N." With that he turned around and began to walk away. No. Now that I'm here, doing this, he is not walking away until I get an answer. I began to walk at a fast pace to keep up with him.

"Well I need to know, so tell me." It was hard trying to keep up with him, he had such big fucking strides it was hard to keep up.

"No. You don't." It went back and forth like this for around 3 minutes until I heard him groan and was then pushed into an empty classroom. He had locked the door when I had realised we were in a classroom and I was leaning against a desk.

"Why do you want to know so badly? This is the most you've talked to me in years and it's about me visiting you in the hospital wing?" I subconsciously scoffed. Why the fuck was he acting like I had been the cause for the end of our friendship?

"Well I'd have talked to you more if you had let me. But no, Theodore Nott is way too fucking good for me to speak to. You are the reason we stopped talking in 1st year. I tried and tried to keep our friendship, but you were too busy becoming bum buddies with fucking Malfoy. So just answer my fucking question so I can leave." Nott rolled his eyes at me, acting as if I had done something wrong.

"We are not bum buddies." I scoffed at him and raised a brow. I stepped away from the desk and took a step closer to him.

"That's all you got from what I said? God you really have fucking changed. Dickhead." Nott began to get pissed off. His eyebrows lowered and nostrils flared.

"Now just fucking tell me why you visited me." I kept repeating it to piss him off. He ran his hand over his face and looked like he was about to lose it.

"Fine!" His voice boomed throughout the classroom. I took a step back, my eyes wide. I had never heard him shout before.

"You want to know why I visited you? Because I care about you, more than you can imagine and I felt so fucking bad for hitting you with that bludger. I didn't even mean to! And before you ask how come I only just cared now I haven't stopped caring about you. Even when we weren't friends. And it's because I love you! I have ever since start of 1st year." What the fuck? My eyes widened even more and my jaw dropped. Well that was a bombshell and a half.

"I thought we hated each other. And why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Nott laughed, but had a sad look on his face. He took a few steps towards me, we were now toe to toe.

"Because I'd rather you hate me and talk to me, than for you to not talk to me or acknowledge me at all." I felt horrible. All these years. He hadn't hated me, but he had loved me instead. My heart shattered, I had never felt so horrible more than I do right now in my entire life.

"Oh Theo..." I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. I didn't know what else to do. He didn't reciprocate for a few seconds but then I felt him slowly start to hug me back. We stood like that for God knows how long.

We then both pulled away and just looked at each other. I had forgotten how beautiful he actually was. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue-grey. His hair fell perfectly on his face. His jawline had looked like it was carved by angels. He grew up to be bloody gorgeous.

"I'm sorry... Y/N..." Never in my whole entire life had I heard Theodore Nott apologise. Not once. And now the first time I hear it, it's to me.

"I wish you had told me sooner Theo..." My hands move from his neck to the sides of his face. He gave me a small smile and a slight chuckle.

"How could I have told you? I fucked it up for myself. Especially when I said all those things to your friends..." I rolled my eyes, he raised a brow at me in confusion.

"If you just apologise, and actually mean it, then I'm sure they'll forgive you. They don't hold grudges once someone has apologised and realised what they've done." Theo sighed with relief. He looked to the side, as if he was thinking proper hard.

"What?" His eyes come back straight to mine, his face looks like he wants to say something but doesn't know if he should or not.

"So what are we then?" The question took me aback. I didn't know how to answer that.

"Well... I don't know..." I paused, trying to make a plan in my head. "If anything can we just take it slow? Need to wrap my mind around all this." We both giggled. We both looked up to each other and just stared.

I felt myself moving closer to him, and I could see him doing the same. We both paused until our lips were centimetres apart.

"Fuck taking things slow." And with that our lips crashed together. His hands took place on my waist and he squeezed it. My hands were still on his face so I tried to pull him impossibly closer than he already was. My arm hurt slightly, even though Madame Pomfrey told me not to move it I ignored it anyway. The kiss was passionate, but soft at the same time. I think Theo couldn't decide whether to be gentle or not. We both pulled away for air, I opened my eyes and couldn't help but smile.

"I'm sorry Y/N/N, I mean it. I truly am." I hadn't heard that nickname in years. Only Theo used to call me that. It was reserved only for him, I told everyone else who used it the same.

"It's okay Theo, I was just as bad as you." We both laughed and then hugged each other.

Did not think my first day back would go like this.

[loveforsatoru]

Lots of things remind you of Satoru. The color blue, sweets, the evening just before the sun sets and the skies grow dark. Quite frankly, everything reminds you of him. Wherever you look, he’d always be there. You love him so much it makes you sick.

He deserved it, though. He was a good man, the best you’ve ever known. The least anyone could give him was love– and god did you give him more than enough to satisfy his soul for this lifetime and the ones to come. Because he, for someone who often thought logically and did not put much attention onto what happens after death, always knew that he would be yours and you would be his, everywhere out there in this infinite universe, even if he cannot hold you in all of them.

Just like now as you stand over his grave with an emotionless face and tears running down your cheeks, an umbrella over your head to shield you from the pouring rain which mirrors your tears, reminding you that the world moves on despite your inability to do the same.

Your days have blended together like a never ending loop since his death. You live the same thing over and over and over. Grief, tears, mourning, sadness. You wish you could forget the image of his severed body laying on the ground, covered in blood. It doesn’t feel real. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just a bad dream and you’ll wake up soon, hopefully.

You’ve been standing here in the empty cemetery for hours. You haven’t eaten, haven’t slept, or uttered a single word. What’s the point? He’s not here to listen anymore.

You discard the umbrella, letting the rain soak you entirely, and sit in front of where he’s buried.

Satoru Gojo; loving teacher and husband. 1989-2018.

You gently trace your fingers over the engraved words, the same way you would over his cheeks when he’d come home from missions and fall right into your embrace– the place he always craved to be, where he should be right now.

During the entire fight, the only thing on his mind was you. You, you, you, you. And how badly he wanted to get it over with just so he could hold you and leave everything else behind.

He planned to retire after this final battle, so he could finally live a life of peace. Move away from Tokyo, perhaps to somewhere up in the countryside where the loudest sound in the morning would be that of chirping birds. He would go wherever the wind could take him as long as you were there, too. Without you, he’d feel like nothing.

It’s ironic, really. You’re the one who has to learn to live without him.

Part of you is expecting him to appear from thin air and wipe your tears away, telling you he’s here and he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

The final conversation with him was one you didn’t want to have. You waited outside the door while he spoke to Yuji, listening to every word before the younger boy left.

“Those kids won’t forget you, you know,” You say as you settle onto his lap and his hands find home on your waist.

“Yeah, but sometimes it feels that way,” He sighs, “Whatever happens, I’ll just have to accept it.”

You hum in response as he holds onto you a little tighter than usual and buries his face in your neck, drowning himself in you.

You let him do as he pleases, knowing you could never push him away even if you tried.

“You’re a little off,” You say softly. “Is everything okay?” You stare into his eyes, hoping to find some sort of warmth and reassurance amidst the clouds that swarm in them.

Of course it’s not. You can sense the little bit of doubt that radiates off of him. He wasn't the type to question his own abilities, but there’s a lot on the line, a lot to lose, a lot of you that he doesn’t want to let go of.

“You think so?” He tries to mask it with his usual tone. You can see right through it. “I’m a-okay. Don’t worry so much, sweetheart. You know me.”

“I do know you and that’s why I know you’re not a-okay. Talk to me, Satoru. Please.”

If this were any other day, he would, but it’s not. He just wants to hold and kiss you for as long as he can. He knows he might not be able to again.

“Let’s just stay here a little while. Forget about everything else for now,” He presses his lips against your temple and they linger for too long.

You huff in defeat and nod, because as much as you want to deny it, the impending feeling of doom won’t allow you.

“Okay.. but promise me you’ll be alright.”

It’s too much to ask for. He can’t make you a promise he can’t keep. You’re his wife, the love of his life. It would kill him even more to die knowing he broke the last promise he ever made you.

Instead, he pulls away to admire every detail of your face without a word.

“Promise me,” You repeat, “Promise me you’ll be okay, Satoru. I need to hear you say it.”

Your desperation is like a knife to his heart, but he can’t do that for you. This is the one thing he has to deny you no matter how badly he wants to bring you closer and say it’ll all be fine.

He hides his forming tears away with a chuckle, but there’s no humor behind it and kisses you like it’s the last time he will. It was. He remembers the way your lips taste even in death.

Sometimes, you can still hear his voice and the sound of his laughter rings in your ears. Nowadays, that’s the only thing that brings joy into your days. You don’t know yourself anymore. A part of you died with him and you’re afraid you’ll never be able to get it back.

You remember the way he smelt and the way his eyes would crinkle when he would smile a little too hard– mostly at you and your corny jokes that he found hilarious. The way he’d sing in the shower and hug you from behind before fully drying off while you prepared dinner because he knew it’d annoy you, but your scolds were never serious. He could tell with the way the corner of your lips threatened to curl upwards.

All of these cherished moments and many others have now become memories to remember him by. The day you forget any of it is the day you die, with your last request being to be buried right beside him.

Repeated sobs escape your once sealed shut lips. You cry and dig your hands into the muddy grass below you, clawing and clawing to seemingly reach the core of the earth and bring him back, but it won’t. Nothing will. You can’t do anything to bring him back and it rips you apart at the very center of your heart.

You’ll look for him in the skies, the wind, the trees, the color blue, sweets, the evening just before the sun sets and the skies grow dark, and anything and everything else. Until one day, your time will also come and you’ll be reunited once again.

But for now, all you can do is cry. And you do, everyday without fail because any life would be better than one without him.

[glowinggator]

Prompt: Calling the Lackadaisy characters by their full name

A/N: University has been keeping me busy, and I've been in a bit of a writers block. So in the meantime, take this goofy little thing!

Includes: Rocky Rickaby/Reader Calvin "Freckle" McMurray/Reader Dorian "Zib" Zibowski/Reader Mordecai Heller/Reader Viktor Vasko/Reader Serafine Savoy/Reader Nicodeme "Nico" Savoy/Reader

Rocky Rickaby: 

Rocky's always pleased to hear his name fall from your lips… "Rocky Rickaby…" he loves to occupy your attention, and he's not above doing a silly trick here and there to get you to utter his name like that. But his given name? You can't even finish "Roark" before he's at your feet, begging for forgiveness. Queue the waterworks -- his muse, his winter sunshine, his summer breeze please, please forgive him. For he is naught but a mortal man, riddled with the propensity for mistakes, but is -- Hm?  The maple syrup is in the back of the pantry, yes. Yes, next to the peanut butter. -- is that not the natural state of such mortal endeavors? Surely, such a divine being must take pity on the folly of man!

He doesn't register that you were only playing with him. Or, maybe he's realized and is just committing to the bit. You'll never know. What you do know, however, is that you'll have him at your feet for the next hour or so. 

Calvin McMurray: 

Calvin, Cal, Freckle… Sweetheart, in private. McMurray, when you're teasing. Calvin really gets the gamut of names and nicknames when it comes to you. But when he hears his full name yelled out from the opposite end of the house, he's nothing if not panicked. The past two decades of Irish Catholicism really beats that into you. He rushes to your side, back straight, head down in silent apology for… whatever it is, that he did. 

"...Yes, dear?"

He has to bite his tongue a bit to not bring out any honorifics, but the message comes across just the same. There's only 2 times he uses "dear" as his go to-- 1.) In front of his mother, 2.) After he's done something he shouldn't. 

Decompresses instantaneously when you ask him to open the pickle jar. He exhales quietly, holding his hand out silently for the jar. His heart can't take this sort of thing. Don't do this to the poor man… too often. 

Dorian Zibowski:

Blinks owlishly when he hears his full name shouted out from across the house. If there's any way to sober Zib up… this is it. He's leaping to his feet in an instant, rushing to where you are… and slowing down when he's just out of sight. He smooths his fur and his clothes and takes a deep breath before waltzing calmly into your line of sight. Play it cool. 

"Funny way of pronouncing "Zibowski, doll. Need something?" 

He takes it in stride, but don't be fooled -- he's quaking in his boots, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels the weight lifted off his chest when you ask him to grab something from the top shelf, although you'd never know that. He does, however, press a lingering kiss to your temple after he passes the item off to you. Don't read into it too much. 

Mordecai Heller: 

He tears his eyes away from his book, glancing at you from over the rim of his teacup. "Yes?" 

He's truly unaffected. He's introduced by his first and last name all the time, and he was never scolded in such a manner as a child.  If you were looking for some outlandish reaction, all you've got is his quiet attention. And you might want to answer quickly -- he'd really like to finish this chapter tonight. This is quite a grueling read, you know. 

His true name, however, is a different story. But that's for entirely different reasons, and well, you wouldn't  know anything about that. Right? 

Viktor Vasko: 

Yet another one who is unaffected. He looms over you a bit -- which really, isn't unusual for him considering his stature -- humming questioningly.

He's a man of few words, and even fewer reactions. You've really gotta put some emotion in your voice if you want to get any sort of reaction out of him, and even then the most you're likely to get is a raised eyebrow… maybe a bit of a head tilt if you're lucky. And you can really only do this once -- he'll remember your little trick for next time. 

(If you really want to get a reaction out of him, use some sort of petname. He secretly finds them rather sweet, and the right one will force-reset his brain a bit the first few times you use it. )

Seraphine Savoy: 

Seraphine isn't unaffected by the use of her full name… rather, she revels in it. She's always enjoyed the flow of her name, but it always seems to fall from your lips like some goldly golden ichor. To call it heavenly would be a bit of a misnomer -- sinful, mayhaps? It's a difficult feeling to place, but she strides over to you confidently nonetheless. Her lips quirk up as she leans into your personal space.

"Yes, amou?"  

Nicodeme Savoy: 

Truthfully, he isn't the biggest fan of you calling him by his full name. Well, his full first name, anyways. Feels too stuffy, for his liking. But he takes it in stride, waltzing up to you lazily. He rests his arm on your shoulder and leans down to be eye-level with you, eyes half lidded with a grin. He throws your own full name right back at you teasingly. Need something?  Want him to grab something, or open a jar? Hm? 

His grin stretches a bit wider when you pout -- you really thought you'd get him this time, huh? He kisses you chastely, nipping at you softly in jest. Gotta try harder than that to shake him, bebe. 

[nariism]

the voice in my heart — i. sae

forced proximity + "oh no, the power went out, however will we stay warm?!" (/s)

synopsis. itoshi sae doesn't like how mushy you make him feel, but the warmth is nice. kinda.

wc. ~600

— for @saetoshi / @yoisagi my love 💗 | event masterlist ✉️

you didn't think it was possible, but somehow itoshi sae gets infinitely more irritable when he's cold.

he scowls more, hands permanently stuffed into his pockets, and sulks like there's no tomorrow. and he shivers, too. an embarrassing amount. (his pride is always severely injured when you ask him if he wants your help to warm up).

your grouchy roommate always found something to complain about when the weather dipped. whether it be the fact that his heater was always running, or that he has to scrape the ice off his windshield every morning, sae has never been able to see the beauty of winter.

"beauty?" he scoffed when you pointed that fact out one day. you were at the kitchen table and he was on the couch waking up from his midday nap—a typical sunday afternoon that he had long since added to his routine. "yeah, i'd rather admire it from inside. thanks."

"come on, don't be so pessimistic," you scolded, sauntering over to him to shove a pillow into his face. he knocked it away with a frown.

"i'm not pessimistic. just realistic. being cold sucks."

and that should have been the end of it. after that, you had stopped bothering him and purposefully trying to tease him with snide little comments about his disdain for the cold.

well. the universe has always had a funny way of fucking with him.

it's the coldest night of the season thus far. the snow storm raging outside has knocked out the power for the entire building and now the two of you are stuck pressed together under the warmth of your combined blankets.

"quit squirming around or i'll kick you out of my bed."

you make an undignified noise. "you wouldn't."

"i will if you don't stop that and go to sleep. i have to be up early tomorrow."

"this was your idea in the first place!"

sae had been the one to text you, after all. he hadn't even asked nicely, only sending you the word HELP in all capital letters as if he were going into cardiac arrest. you had rushed in to see what was wrong only to get dragged into his bed.

his greed for warmth was nothing new to you, of course, but he was careful to be gentle with you. to make sure he wasn't crushing you or making you uncomfortable. it was his way of being nice and somewhat apologetic that you were being treated as some sort of personal heater.

"i hate you," you tell him when he unceremoniously throws his leg over your entire body to keep you still.

"yeah, whatever. sleep before i kick you out."

"you're the one who asked me to share our blankets," you remind him again.

there's a long silence that follows that statement. it's so quiet that you assume he just ignored you and went to sleep without replying. but then he rolls over until his back is to you and he utters out, strained: "we don't speak of this, ever."

you raise a brow, shifting to face his back. "oh? are you embarrassed that i had to keep you warm?"

"i'm not embarrassed," he quickly corrects, even with the waver of his normally dead voice.

you reach around him, back of your hand resting on his cheek. you feel him tense up beside you in bed and you can't help but burst out laughing.

"your whole face is warm."

he groans, pulling the blankets closer to his side and up over his head so you can't observe him any closer. he's worried that if you did, you might have noticed how incredibly red he was growing. something so out of character would absolutely garner a new game for you and he would never hear the end of it.

for someone with an attitude problem about everything, he was surprisingly easy to shut down. maybe it was just you who had that talent, though.

itoshi sae doesn't like how mushy you make him feel, but the warmth is nice—

"i know you're trying to hide from me! if you just wanted to be held i'd be happy to help."

—kinda.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[rjcolette]

college au! satoru gojo x reader x suguru geto

warnings:

smut

alcohol usage

mention of marijuana

threesome (they all want each other lol)

sub! satoru gojo

dom! suguru geto

switch! reader

masochism (satoru gojo)

sadism (suguru geto)

vibrating tongue/cock piercing

mommy kink (satoru gojo)

daddy kink (suguru geto)

praise kink (both)

degradation/humiliation kink (both)

size kink (both)

double penetration (both)

edging (both)

begging (both)

biting (both)

hair pulling (both)

breeding kink (satoru gojo)

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

he was the biggest fucking jerk you had probably ever met in your entire life. satoru gojo, classic fraternity dude stereotype with far too many bodies under his belt (no pun intended) and a cocky ass smirk that made you want to throttle your fist into his perfect, infuriatingly handsome face. you saw him way too often, more often than you should, and it felt like the universe was purposefully sticking its foot up your ass as some sort of sick joke to piss you off.

what you didn’t understand about his constant reoccurring presence is that you were just an average uni student — you made decent grades, mostly a’s and b’s with one c in your stats class (that course alone made you want to drop out and take your bitchass to mcdonalds to work [it didn’t sound so bad now that you considered it; better than doing math]), you went to class, most days, since you had a bad habit of skipping when you were tired, and you weren’t involved in any kind of fraternity or sorority at your university.

so why was he always around? you squinted your eyes, which were burning from your ebony tight liner and perfect black wing (which took you multiple tries to get just right), and your brows furrowed as your lip curled into a faint snarl. red, blue, and green hues of flashing party lights scalded your retinas, not making it much easier on your abused irises, as you beheld the white haired man laughing obnoxiously across the room. drunken and sleazy young men and women danced and chatted loudly amongst the booming music (you weren’t really paying attention to the annoying beat [perhaps it was the weeknd, or something like that…? you don’t know]) and obscured your vision in a huge mass of blurred red and green. you couldn’t identify any of the students here aside from satoru, and his best friend suguru geto, who he roared in very audible laughter across the room with, slinging an arm over his broad shoulders.

“everything okay, y/n?!” hollered your best friend, f/n, from beside you. the question was spoken with half-concern, as she was so elated by her drunken state with a tall bottle of pink whitney in her grip a giggle escaped her lips once she uttered it. you scoffed quietly, so silently she undoubtedly did not catch it, and you shook your head to respond.

“satoru gojo is over there. again,” you scowled, whipping your head around to scrutinize f/n. she only smiled sleazily, her dark eyes half-lidded and amused, albeit slightly worried. you didn’t care enough to wonder if she was cross-faded, but you did find yourself wondering where she got weed if she was because, frankly, you wouldn’t care for a hit right about now either. “why am i always fucking running into that guy?” you jabbed a finger back.

she shrugged, grinning and slinging a hand over your shoulder and pulling you to her. she stumbled weakly onto your side, unable to balance herself properly. she snickered. “ah. that white haired motherfucker your always yappin about? we do see him a lot, don’t we?”

you and f/n were avid frat party attendees, despite either of you not being involved in any kind of frat yourself. she always slept around on fridays like these, and usually, she’d disappear at some point at the party to go fuck a guy or girl and you wouldn’t see her again until the morning back at your dorm. whatever. she was your best friend and roommate and you cared deeply for her, but she was also an adult who could handle her own shit. you weren’t her babysitter.

“yeah. we,” you said dryly, curling your lip. “it’s more my fault. i think i’m cursed.” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“how so?!” she shouted over the loud r&b music. she didn’t necessarily need to shout, as she was close enough to your face you could smell the alcohol on her breath. you could count each perfect tooth she had (she recently got her braces off she had had since middle school [her teeth were really fucked up; she showed you old pictures]) and they glistened in the flashing led lights of the stuffy, stifling mass of party people surrounding the two of you. you presumed her intoxication also prevented her from properly comprehending her volume either, so you cast aside your irritation for a moment to reply.

“it’s me who always fucking sees him,” you said. you side-eyed satoru, now stumbling onto suguru geto as he sang along to the song that was playing. you blinked and and suddenly could not look away. “…it bothers me, because he looks so damn familiar. i just can’t put my finger on it.”

“maybe you met him in a past life! ha!” she howled in hilarity. she would think a flamingo with a thong on was funny right now. you liked her a lot more when she was sober.

“maybe,” you entertained her. your head was hurting, and you sighed in frustration as a sharp pang went through your brain. now your mood was soured, seeing satoru now of all times. you had just recently failed an exam in stats and you were looking to take the edge off with your routine frat party with f/n, and just as you had started to loosen up and relax and convince yourself you’d get your grade up with the next dumbass exam, you spotted him. walking to class, eating at local restaurants, shopping, the gym, fuck, he was in half of your classes — the universe thought this was all some sort of big ass joke, didn’t it? forcing you to always run into satoru with no explanation as to why… no reasoning for why he was also so fucking familiar to you.

and every time you would see him, you’d stare in a mixture of complicated emotions — awe, envy, disgust, confusion, and a sort of distant contemplation. you were in awe by his beauty every time, of course, because he was uncomfortably gorgeous, envy because he was so utterly confident in himself it made your stomach lurch with jealousy and desire, disgust because his perfection was incredibly revolting, and confusion and distant contemplation for obvious reasons — why did you always see him? why did you recognize him? and why… just at that moment, satoru came down from his laughing high, his arms still holding onto suguru but slipping, and his heavenly blue irises met your own from across the crowded, stuffy room, and grinned, raising his slim brows… why did he always look at you like he knew what you were thinking?

“something wrong?” mumbled f/n with a slur, sloshing her pink whitney around as she stumbled forward, accidentally tripping over someone’s foot (or was it somebody’s clothes? perhaps a discarded red solo cup? you didn’t know, or give a shit). “you look-“ she began to giggle, and you scoffed very audibly this time and practically snatched the pink whitney bottle out of her hand and brought it to your dry lips. you winced as you chugged about a quarter of the bottle and prayed it would kick in fast before you did this. “y/n?!” her laughter faded.

“i’m gonna fucking talk to him,” you declared in determination. “see what his fucking deal is. i’m so done, f/n.” you shook your head, your brows furrowing. you never broke eye contact with satoru, who, when seeing you chug your bottle, only licked his perfect plump lips and smiled coyly. “so. done.”

you shoved the bottle back in her grip and f/n stumbled back, stammering. you ignored her. she’d probably run off and get bored any time now to go fuck somebody. good. a little sex never hurt anybody.

you were in your sophomore year of college and this man had haunted your thoughts every single day of every single damn semester since you started attending this university, and you had refused to speak a word to him that entire time. you were an adult, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re very mature, especially when it comes to men. let’s say you have a a sort of superiority complex when it comes to guys, particularly guys like satoru gojo. but gojo was different — he was more infuriating than your average frat cuck.

“hey!” you shouted over the music, jabbing your finger into satoru’s flat chest. he wore a plain black tee and jeans that hugged his ass so nicely, and his pecs were visible through his thin shirt. his arm flexed as he brought his cup to his lips, taking a sip as he quirked a brow at your intrusion, his hair falling in loose waves over his beautiful eyes. “the fuck is your deal, pretty boy?” he smirked into his cup and lowered it, clearly caught off guard. after a millisecond when he did not reply, only grinned cockily (the bastard), you added, “huh?!”

“satoruuuuu,” a young woman in skimpy clothes whined from beside him, tugging on his shirt. you caught suguru sneak an annoyed glance at her, as if he was incredibly irritated at her intrusion between you and satoru. you narrowed your slim eyes. what the hell did he know..? gojo turned around himself to address the girl, who was trying to coax satoru to come dance with her and her other two girlfriends, all dressed like fucking whores. satoru spoke sultry and sweet to the women, declining them but also charming them with empty promises. to be expected from a man like him; he can’t stand women being disappointed in him or unattracted to him. mommy issues, you determined.

you took that moment to scrutinize geto as satoru was distracted. his eyes were thin and devilish, irises dark and sparkling under the flashing lights. his lips were thinner than satorus, his nose roman-shaped with prominent cheekbones and a slim, masculine face. satoru was more feminine-looking than him in a appearance, both in body and face, while suguru had broader shoulders and a thicker build. they seemed about the same height, however.

so this was satoru gojo’s best friend, suguru geto. he was undeniably gorgeous. he leaked masculinity and dominance, certainly the more strong and silent type. you saw satoru at the gym a lot when you were trying to get your steps in on the treadmill (you were deeply afraid of the freshman fifteen, even as a fucking sophomore), but you saw this guy even more. he loved the gym, and whenever you saw suguru there, he had on a pair of noise cancelling black headphones on lifting weights heavier than your entire body with one arm and a concentrated countenance — you knew his headphones were noise-cancelling because you had made the grave mistake of trying to speak to suguru once your freshman year in the gym to ask were the restrooms were located, and he simply stared ahead of him with an unreadable expression. you flushed, stood there for a moment, and then angrily walked off, muttering curses to yourself and towards suguru.

other than that, you didn’t mind him much. there was a sort of animosity you held towards him because of satoru in association, but other than that he was tolerable. you had spoken to him a few times, much more than you ever had to satoru, at the gym and in stats, which you had with him, and he was pretty chill. sometimes you’d catch yourself glaring at him from across the room and feel bad, but you couldn’t help it.

suguru smiled at you as gojo was turned away and looked you up and down. your hands were now planted firmly on your hips, and you suddenly felt very self-conscious as suguru scrutinized your figure. you were slim and slightly toned from the gym, and you were currently wearing a purple crop top and low-rise jeans. your hair was down and your usual makeup was done, which was dark and sultry (how you liked it), enchanting your eyes and lips. no matter how uncomfortably aware of yourself you wet becoming, you refused to show it. you had to surpass suguru and satoru’s unwavering frat-boy confidence with diligence and certainty, and this goal was reflected by the raising of your chin and narrowing of your eyes.

“you got a problem too, suguru geto?” you spat. you didn’t really mean it entirely. you actually somewhat admired suguru, but you felt determined to intimidate the both of them.

at this point the slutty girls bothering satoru had ran off giggling over some dumb shit, you were sure, and satoru had turned his attention back to you.

“well well well, what do we have here?” muttered satoru with a smirk, but suguru ignored him and instead regarded you with utmost lust and interest.

suguru’s eyes glimmered in amusement, his right arm relaxed by his side and his left on the small of satoru’s back as satoru leaned on his shoulders, his right arm slung lazily and drunkenly over his best friend. they had to have some sort of strange bromance going on, seeing how comfortable they were touching each other like that.

“i don’t,” replied suguru, and then he added casually, “i’ve actually been wanting to see you naked for a while.” he licked his lips. “you down?”

you almost choked on your own saliva. satoru broke out into obnoxious laughter beside him, but you were certain he was completely and utterly serious. your eyes were wide and your face flushed, and any confidence you were emitting previously had been dissipated in just a moment. you coughed violently and once finished with your fit, you gripped your right arm so tightly your knuckles turned white, and your hand slid down your mouth to speak.

“what the hell did you just say to me..?”

“you heard him,” grinned satoru. he titled his head, and it felt like his dumbass smirk was always getting bigger and bigger. it infuriated you how confident he always acted, and it perplexed you how it was even possible to be so certain of oneself. all of your conflicting emotions stupefied you as you stood dumbly before them, both of the cocky men towering over you with leaking with drunken lust and desire. the mood had shifted so suddenly you felt you were going to be sick. satoru slid his arm off of suguru slowly, and leaned towards you and tucked a strand of disheveled hair behind your ear. he was suddenly so close you could smell his prominent aroma — fresh laundry, mint, and, of course, alcohol, more particularly jack daniels. you scrunched your nose, catching the same scent from suguru as his dark navy long sleeve shirt caught the breeze of the ac behind him, jack daniels, but suguru himself had a more musky cologne, like foggy woods in the autumn season. jack daniels, you scoffed internally, your face still flushed from satoru’s close proximity and suguru’s previous confession — for frat boys, they were incredibly refined, the cream of the crop, you suppose.

catching yourself admiring the two, you scolded yourself in your head. what were you thinking?! these men were your enemies! they were both dicks. both of them. suguru geto was a little less insufferable, but still irritating nonetheless. you shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

but your heart couldn’t help but race as satoru’s warm minty breath tickled your earlobe as he spoke, and suddenly you were picturing them both naked, “we’ve had our eyes on you for a while, y/n. you’re the hottest chick that goes here, and fuck, you look sexy on that stairmaster in the gym. who would’ve guessed a beautiful and refined woman such as yourself would have such a slutty, plump, round fucking ass?”

your breath hitched, your body so hot you thought you would implode. you were so incredibly aware of all of the people yelling and singing and laughing around you, dancing and screaming in delight as people made out and greedily chugged alcohol out of their red cups all around you. the bass of the loud r&b music practically shook your bones, and the sensation of the thundering music and suguru and satoru’s intoxicating drunken scents made your head swim and your core throb. it pissed you off, the way you were suddenly feeling, but you were only a woman.

“how do you know me..?” you said breathlessly, roughly grabbing satoru’s waist with a quivering hand, reaching to angrily shove him off, but finding yourself unable to do so once you actually made physical contact with him. fuck, his scent was so alluring you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away right now if you could. and- you glanced up for just a moment- the way suguru was eyeing you like a starved wolf made your pussy clench around absolutely nothing. how long had it been since you had sex? you felt equal desire towards the two men and disgust towards your own selfish needs. “how…” you began, faltering for a moment, “..how do i.. know you? where have i fucking met you before..?”

“how could i forget my first..?” breathed gojo, his hand snaking down your back to harshly grip your ass, pulling you even closer to him, if humanely possible. suddenly, you were flush against satoru’s broad, flat chest, and you blinked and felt a weight pressing you from behind. your eyes widened. suguru. suguru geto was standing behind you, his huge erection pressing into the space between your asscheeks, the same once gojo was fondling with his hands. suguru buried his nose into the crook of your neck on the side opposite of satoru, inhaling your vanilla and plum perfume so deeply it’s as if he thought you’d disappear from him any moment.

“your..first..?” you questioned in shock, and then suddenly it hit you. in high school, junior year, you attended a halloween party thrown by one of your closest friends on the volleyball team, a senior, when her parents were out of town. you had snuck out to attend with your cousin (who you ended up not even staying with the entire time) and then you got super fucking drunk and were led off by an upperclassman boy on the basketball team. you don’t remember it clearly, just that it was when you lost your virginity in a slutty vampire costume (which you had no business wearing at seventeen, but you digress).

that was him? the revelation hit you like a truck. how could you not remember satoru from high school..? especially considering how otherworldly his beauty is. i mean, anyone would remember a face and personality like his, especially if he took your virginity. but you never would have guess you also took his that night. fuck… you were so drunk you hadn’t even remembered any of it until now.

“it was you..” you exhaled in remembrance, and your heart throbbed with so many conflicting emotions. you almost felt fond of him because of what he had reminded you of, but your previous dislike you had harbored of him since the beginning of university still lingered. you didn’t understand your feelings at all, and even less what was happening in the present moment. all you know is that you felt dizzy and incredibly drunk, and you don’t even know if you entirely regret chugging f/n’s bottle of pink whitney because if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have ever been in the position you are right now — i mean, it was every young woman’s dream. sandwiched between two incredibly handsome, tall, sexy mean who craved you like you were the last woman alive on earth.

“mhm..” mumbled suguru in your other ear. you almost whined from the tingles that went down your spine. satoru nibbled on your earlobe slowly as suguru spoke, and you felt warmth pooling in your undergarment. “..you’re all satoru talks about. it’s honestly intriguing, how good he said you were, how tight… and now i want a taste. best friends should share, after all… right satoru..?”

“yes, they should,” smirked satoru in lust against your neck, which he had moved his plump lips to to leave messy wet butterfly kisses all the way down to your bare collarbones. your blood slammed against our veins in desire as the men touched you, and your entire body was on fire. “…let’s see if that pussy is still as fucking tight as it was back then, shall we..?”

you yelped as suguru roughly flipped you around and smacked your ass, hard, effortlessly hoisting your body up by your hips and throwing you lazily over his shoulder, knocking the breath out of your lungs for a moment. you gasped for air, partially from his actions and partially from the shock from what both satoru gojo and suguru geto had confessed to you, and suguru slapped your ass a second time and began to carry you through the mass of people partying all around you towards the stairs.

“h-hey!” you stammered in surprise, your face so hot you could fry an egg on it. “put me down!! what the fuck..?!”

before you knew it, you had made it to the top of the stairs of the frat house and had begun to be carried to the end of the hallway. the booming music and cacophony of laughter and talking from downstairs was significantly quieter up here as suguru took you into a room, which gojo opened the door to. you couldn’t see much but the floor over his shoulder, and everything was a messy blur around you both from your position and your drunkenness. satoru shut the door behind you and suguru and locked it. the bass of the music faintly shook the walls around you. the room was dark until satoru turned the lights on to a red led. of course. you had a feeling of what was about to happen.

suguru threw you down on the bed and practically ripped off his shirt, and you were still trying to gather yourself before you could ogle his perfectly sculpted and toned chest. his pants clung loosely to his hipbones, and his ebony hair, which was previously thrown into an attractive messy man bun, was now falling loosely over his thick shoulders, slightly dampened from sweat. his tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes fell over your form, scrambling back to the headboard of the king sized bed, looking around frantically.

this must be satoru’s room. he had silk navy blue sheets, and a star wars poster on the wall, which was almost cute if you weren’t so caught up in the moment. he had a gaming pc on his university-owned desk and messy homework papers scattered everywhere on top of the keyboard. he also had a shiny red electric guitar with a spiky, slim shape propped up on a guitar stand in the corner of the room, and you even noticed some luxury items, like bags and shoes and furniture, around the room as well. so satoru was rich and spoiled. you could have guessed that.

suguru caught you eyeballing the guitar as satoru walked up to be by his side, also taking his short-sleeve shirt off. you immediately looked away from the guitar and locked eyes with suguru, whole-heartedly aware of satoru gojo undressed beside him and refusing to let yourself look at him. despite your childlike fondness towards him for being your first back in high school, you still strongly disliked him for every that you knew he was — cocky, beautiful, spoiled, full of himself, and incredibly good in bed, from what you can recall.

“it’s mine. not satoru’s,” suguru says lowly, his voice grumbling in his chest as if hoping to gain your favor over satoru. so he was that type of guy, huh. the jealous, possessive type. well, you suppose you didn’t mind. you still liked him more than you did gojo, but maybe you were just trying to tell yourself that.

you swallowed dryly, accidentally catching a glimpse of satoru unbuckling his belt and you clenched your thighs, your face a flaming rouge. what was even going on right now? you were so fucking drunk. you couldn’t even tell somebody what day it was if you were asked. but at least you knew satoru and suguru were as well. you knew you weren’t being rational. you could easily get up, curse them both and even give one (probably gojo) a solid smack across the cheek for even trying anything with you, but you did none of those things. fuck, you were so wet just by the sounds of satoru and suguru’s voices and scents, and even more so by the fact that they’re beginning to undress and reveal their infuriatingly perfectly sculpted chests. you pictured their cocks and their individual sizes in your heads prematurely… satoru’s was probably thinner with a lighter hue to the tip, suguru’s thick with girth and darker in shade.

what you didn’t expect, however, was for suguru to unbuckle his pants and pull out a cock with a black piercing at the tip. you gaped at him with both awe and desire. i mean, he always had those huge black gauges in his earlobes, so it shouldn’t be entirely shocking other places were pierced too, but you definitely didn’t expect his…

“you like it?” he said with a smile, his brows raising in amusement. then, he stuck his tongue out, and by the stars above, it had a matching black piercing as well. you stifled a gasp when he said his next words. “they both vibrate. and guess who has the controls..?��

your eyes were wide with shock as you slowly latched your gaze onto satoru, now completely nude as he tilted his head with a wink with his arm outstretched. he placed a hand on the bed as if crawling towards you, shoving the screen of his phone in your face to reveal a sort of remote with a scale on it. you shuddered.

“you want it, don’t you.??” satoru whispered in lust as he lowered the phone and placed his hands on your cold waist, his hands warm and welcoming there. he hooked in slender fingers under the hem and slid off your top, and you allowed him. “you want that fat cock inside that tight, wet little pussy of yours, don’t you y/n..?” he grinned, his breaths falling against your collarbones quickly as he unbuttoned your jeans. suguru geto had moved behind you to unhook your lacy black bra, and you were awestruck and incredibly flustered, willing to let it all happen as you processed their touch and words. you felt your nipples perk against the cool air of satoru’s room as suguru threw your bra aside, and your pussy clenched around nothing when satoru aggressively yanked your jeans and panties down simultaneously down to your thighs. he chuckled lowly on your collarbone, licking his hot tongue from your clavicle your round, plump tit. suguru must have removed your shoes and the rest of your clothes while you were distracted with gojo, for you were now completely nude. “where’s that confidence from before now, mommy..? hmmm..?? mmph..” he moaned as plump pink lips caught your tit in his mouth. you let out a shaky exhale and threw your head back in pleasure as satoru sucked and swirled his tongue around your nipple, nibbling on the bud as suguru crawled over you on the bed, and you could feel the vibrations of the faint music downstairs shaking your bones as the pleasure of both of the men’s touches shook you to your core. you were so fucking wet, so wet you could hardly speak to retort to any of satoru gojo’s teases.

suguru placed his hand on your core, forcing you down flat against the navy blue silken sheets of the bed with your head propped up on the fluffy pillows behind you. you didn’t fight it, only let the immense pleasure occur: “good fucking girl, stay still for us now, okay?” suguru growled, his voice vibrating against your bare wet pussy when he lowered his head to it, and you could feel his long black tresses brushing and tickling against your sensitive thighs.

you heard satoru blindly tap and drag the screen of his phone as he continued to suck and fondle your tits, and you squeezed your eyes tightly shut and bit back a scream of immense ecstasy as suguru’s warm tongue enveloped your swollen clit, the cool metal of his piercing sending shockwaves of pleasure so intense through you core it was painful. but you reveled in the sensation — hell, you welcomed it with open arms. the more the men fawned over you and caressed you, so conjointly determined to deliver you the utmost pleasure and worship, the more your own confidence and awareness returned back to you, so much so you were willing to speak and engage with them.

“fuuuuck, don’t stop!” you whisper-shouted as suguru lapped you up like he hadn’t eaten in days, like he was starved, like your pussy was drenched in some sort of divine, heavenly nectar that he simply could not get enough of. satoru was the same, though he shivered and whined in desire as his hands explored your body, as if overjoyed to finally have you in his clutches. the more you paid attention to both of the men’s individual behaviors, the more you became aware of how to play this game. to play with them. remember that superiority complex i mentioned earlier? yeah. it was all coming back now.

“nobody down there can he…- hear you, baby,” suguru panted, his lips smacking wetly as he lifted his chin to speak against your bare pussy. his chin and the area around his mouth glistened with sweat and slick. “let it out, you fuckin.. you fuckin, ngh, slut. let those fuckers all he.. hear you scream, let daddy hear his pretty girl, ngh, scream in pleasure…”

and you did when those damn vibrations met with your clit once more, your thighs clenching and unclenching around suguru’s head as you struggling to keep up with his licks and swirls. he inserted two of his thick fingers into your pussy, allowing you no time to stretch out as he pumped your juices in and out of you mercilessly. satoru had moved to your neck, tasting the sweet saltiness of your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat, as he sucked and bit down to leave marks all over your body. he wanted to ensure everyone in his frat knew who you belonged to — he and suguru geto, no one else. you didn’t even know it, but fuck, you were a catch. many of the other boys in gojo’s fraternity had noticed you, you had the perfect fucking curves and body, after all, and you were incredibly beautiful, like some sort of supermodel, so of course his frat brothers lusted over you. you and your best friend (her name was f/n, or something..? gojo thought) went out a lot, to study, eat, party, and you caught the attention of more men than you ever would have thought you did yourself. and it made satoru gojo unspeakably envious.

you were his. you were his from the moment you took each others virginity at that halloween party your junior and his senior year, you were his the moment you committed to going to the same university as him, and the only man he was willing to share you with was the man eating your pathetic little pussy out as we speak. he would make sure the marks on your neck reflected that, that your beaten, weakened little pussy reflected that.

he squeezed your perfect plump tits in desire as he left yet another hickey on your smooth, doll-like skin, relishing in the melody of your cries of pleasure and need. you were all he ever wanted since he was just a teenager, and here you were now, his to consume and have. fuck, he wanted you to dominate him, wanted you to leave him a blubbering, sloppy mess beneath you as you rode him and pumped his cock dry with no mercy.

“fuck, you’re amazing,” gojo praised in a whimper as you wailed in the shock of pain and pleasure of him biting so harshly on your neck he could draw blood. satoru could be rough when he wanted to be when having sex, but not like suguru. suguru geto was the definition of a dom, and fuck, he was sadistic. he loved to see women quivering beneath him in pain as he edged them closer and closer to their release, just to never give it to them until the very, very end.

satoru gojo was the opposite. to hide the embarrassment of it all, when he was with women sexually, he put on a front that he was like geto, dominant, confident, and masculine. but he truly wasn’t into all that. he couldn’t tell you how many times he touched himself, pumping his wet, soaked length with his own right hand pretending it was your pussy, pretending you were digging your long black nails into his skin, leaving scratches and scars all over his body, smacking his face, wrapping your delicate, dainty hands around his neck, squeezing so hard he’d pass out as he came inside you… he was undeniably a masochist, and he wanted nothing more than to be used and beaten by you.

it all felt so incredible. you felt so dirty and sinful, but fuck you couldn’t get enough — neither could satoru or suguru. satoru gojo was so weak for you. you were the only woman he could ever submit to.

“f-fuck..! i-i’m gonna…!” you gasped, your chest rising and falling rapidly as both of the men touched you. it was otherworldly, this feeling. it had been so long since you had been with a man, and you had never been with two at once. you were already reaching your release and it had hardly been five minutes. suguru tutted in displeasure and satoru, sensing this, paused the remote control, stopping the vibrations of suguru’s tongue piercing. suguru geto himself, additionally, had stopped pleasuring you just as your eyes were lolling back to your head and you were reaching your high. satoru removed his lips from your nipple with a plop, sliding his hand down your waist before his touch was gone completely. you whined as the feeling of both of them close to you was ripped away.

your pleasure being stolen from you was like a slap in the face, and you groaned, covering your eyes for a moment as you panted trying to recollect yourself. “ngh!.. wh.. what the.. what the hell?!” you cried.

“get on top.. of satoru,” suguru commanded, out of breath as he licked your lips, relishing in the taste of your sweet juices. “let’s see how good you ride, baby girl.” you gasped at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying, and your eyes slowly made their way over to satoru, who was laying down on the opposite side of the mattress, his elbows propping his body up as his chest heaved in desire. his white hair fell in messy clumps over his mesmerizing eyes, which were slightly dulled by the red lights enveloping the room. “now. be a good fucking slut for daddy, will you?” he smirked, finally beginning to catch his breath. his teeth caught his bottom lip in lust as he shamelessly soaked in every inch, crevice, and curve of your flawless body. he acknowledged your surprise and bewilderment in his next words: “i wanna see my pretty little slut ride my best friend and leave him a moaning, crying mess. is that a fucking crime?” then, geto climbed on top of your body laying flat against the bed and roughly manhandled you, his left hand reaching to grip your hair harshly and his right hand squishing your cheeks together as you stared up at him with wide eyes. you tried to stammer out a word, but he cut you off: “hm? what’s the matter, y/n…? you were so confident earlier when you jabbed your finger into satoru’s chest and cursed at him. you think your so fucking tough…?” he grunted and in a second, he grabbed you by your shoulders so roughly you’re certain he would leave bruises and flipped you around so that your ass was in the air. you whined in shock as raised his hand to smack your ass with all his strength. you screamed into the pillow, gripping the sheets as tears leaked from your eyes, and you’re sure your makeup was now ruined from your tears and sweat. you cried as your ass burned and stung from the impact, and your body convulsed as electric shocks of pain went up your spine. but, contrarily, your stomach swam with a hoard of butterflies, your heart beating rapidly and your face flushed in desire and pleasure. you loved it. you loved being treated like this, especially by a man as delectably handsome and gorgeous as suguru geto, just as much as you would love to ride satoru gojo until he came so hard inside you his seed leaked all over your thighs. you’d love to see satoru submit under you, you’d love to see him suffer for how much he has consumed your thoughts these past few years… but for some reason, you couldn’t speak, to enticed by the sensations suguru was giving you to move on to the next step. you were speechless.

“what happened to that dirty slutty little mouth of yours you had earlier, hm?” suguru taunted, pressing his cock in the crevice of your ass as he gripped your hips so hard it made you flinch roughly in pain from how intense his grip was. “not so vocal now, are we? c’mon, baby… i wanna see satoru squirm in pleasure as you milk every drop from his throbbing fucking cock. i wanna see that tight little pussy squeeze him so fucking tight he forgets how to think and breath, i wanna see you fuck him so good he forgets his own fucking name… you think you can do that for daddy, hm, baby? you think you can be a good girl and make satoru cum for me?” you let out a muffled scream of agony into the pillow as suguru raised his hand and smacked your ass hard again, and finally you managed to speak.

“y-yes!” you cried and moaned all at once, trying to get up. “yes..!” you repeated in desire, managing to get your head up off the pillow as you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth, black, mascara-filled tears streaming down your cheeks and staining them. you felt satoru’s watchful eyes on you the entire time, his hand stroking his wet length, pleasuring himself at the sight of your sweaty, shining naked body, your tears and your cries of pain and pleasure.

but suguru wasn’t having it. he growled and grabbed the back of your neck, harshly forcing you back into the pillow, squishing your face against the surface of the bed. he dug his fingers even harder into your asscheek, if humanely possible, using all his strength to potentially leave bruises on your smooth skin. “yes what?”

“yes, suguru!!” you tried.

“wrong,” suguru scowled, smacking your ass another time and making you yelp in agony. “say it again, and say it right. beg for it. beg for me to let you ride satoru. c’mon, baby, you can fucking do it.”

that’s right, you remembered amongst your sniffles and cries of pain, quivering and sobbing into the pillow. suguru had a daddy kink, didn’t he? he seemed to also like hurting you, obviously. that’s what he probably wanted then, for you to call him daddy instead of his real name. oh well, you suppose you didn’t mind, although it was a little degrading and humiliating.

“p-please daddy!!” you screamed, your face flaming red in embarrassment as geto roughly fondled your asscheeks, awaiting his desired response. “i’ll do anything! let me fu.. hnnngh,” you paused and moaned as suguru pressed his cock against you again teasingly. you could almost feel him smirking behind you from being able to make you falter. you started again, now determined: “let.. let me fuck him!! please, please, please, daddy, please, please…” you begged in whispers. this entire exchange was far more kinky than anything you had ever experienced in your entire sex life, so you could only pray you were doing it right.

to your glee, this response seemed to satisfy suguru as he removed his hands from your backside and gripped your shoulders, forcing you up and down onto his cock, though not inside just yet. his erection was so, so fucking close to your throbbing heat. fuck, he was rock hard… and just when you thought suguru geto had lapped up every ounce of slick your body could possible produce, your body made even more from sensation of his body heat and sweat intermingling with your own. his sharp canines bit down on the supple skin of your bare neck, pulling your hair to force access to your skin. you made unspeakably sinful sounds at the feeling of him utterly consuming you from the inside out, leaving his own marks beside satoru’s.

as he did this, you grinded against his hard cock pressing against your needy pussy, your tights clenching around his as you moved your hips almost gracefully backward and forward. with each nibble and harsh bite from geto, you whispered a string of curses and cries of pleasure as you locked eyes with satoru who was sprawled out slightly to your right. he had one knee up and his back was slightly arched, his mesmerizing blue eyes wide and cloudy with desire, his white lashes wet with tears as he stroked himself slowly, and then hard and quick, and then slowly all over again. he was edging himself to suguru manhandling you. it was unclear if it was you being beaten and hurt and pleasured all at once that got him off, or if it was suguru geto himself behind you burying his cock into the crevice of your asscheeks as he bit and sucked on the crook of your neck, covering you in hickeys. he was surely attracted to both, you determined, by the way he whimpered and whined into his hand gripping his cheeks on his face, both your name and suguru’s.

and you could feel suguru’s slim eyes staring at gojo as he pleasured you, growling and moaning like a predator consuming it’s prey, and then you quickly came to the revelation that this exchange was not just about you — you had felt it earlier, that mutual lust between them both, between suguru and satoru. not only were they pleasuring you, they were pleasuring themselves to thought of each other as well. and they had both probably fucked each other as best friends a few times as well.

and holy fuck, it made you so fucking wet. you could have came just from grinding against suguru right then and there, from simply soaking in satoru’s submissive cries of pleasure as he edged his poor beaten cock over and over and over again to you and suguru’s own attempts at drawing closer to your high. somehow, the room had just become a thousand times more hotter. then wasn’t just between you and suguru anymore, or you and satoru anymore — this was between suguru, you, and satoru, and the mere thought of that made your entire body quiver in lust as if you had been electrocuted.

finally gathering the confidence to act on your own, you flipped your own body around on suguru geto, rough moving your hips forward against his thick cock as you grabbed his face in his hands and slammed your lips against his. he moaned in surprise at your confidence, though he did not shun it. geto welcomed your lips, placing both of his hands against the small of your waist, and the moving them to play with your bruised ass cheeks. you opened your mouth to allow his tongue entrance, and suguru took that opportunity and ran with it, sighing in pleasure as he buried his tongue into the cavern of your hot wet mouth, exploring every inch of it. you could feel the cool metal of his piercing sending shockwaves of iciness through the nerves in mouth. at some point, you had both began to drool from the sloppy, drunken kiss, and your face and his were damp. you could hear satoru moan loudly as the slick, lewd sounds of him jerking off filled the room. he must be getting close again.

with a plop, you forced yourself off of geto to fulfill your promise of riding satoru, and geto smiled at you knowingly as you departed from him, his lustful, narrow eyes slimming even more as he grinned, and you returned the smile, your chest swelling with pride. you would show him. you would show geto just how fucking good you could be to his plaything, just how hard you could fuck his best friend and make him scream your name in desire.

you crawled off geto and moved towards satoru, gripping his bare thighs very suddenly and forcing them apart. gojo yelped in surprise, not expecting you to come onto him like this, but did not protest or stop you. his chest heaved up and down as he watched your every move, his eyes moving from yours, to your bouncing tits as you moved around, to the surface of your pussy, to your wet thighs, your plump lips, the marks forming on your neck and chest, everything. satoru gojo was captivated by every inch of your body, personality, and presence, and fuck, he was ready for you. he was so fucking ready.

“you wanna be a good boy for mommy and take your hand off your cock?” you mewled, and your own words escaping your lips so naturally shocked even you. satoru’s eyes widened and he let out a silent gasp, and you could sense suguru’s smirk growing evermore behind you. well, there was no going back now. might as well keep it up.

fuck, you had been waiting for this, waiting to prove to satoru just how sexy and confident you could be, prove to him that you were not to be fucked with. you had daydreamed time and time again about wiping that smug ass grin off his face, and now was your time to do that. suguru geto had motivated you enough, had built up your confidence and determination to act on your desires in the past few minutes for you to actually carry them out, and by the stars above you were gonna fucking do it.

“wh- wha?—“ satoru stammered, but you did not allow him to finish a full sentence. you decided to use this moment as an outlet to let out all of your built up anger and frustration towards the enigma that is satoru gojo in one night of pleasure and pain, and you did just that.

“shut the fuck up,” you stated strongly, smacking the living hell out of his face, and his head snapped towards the wall from the sheer force of the impact. his eyes were wide and glossy, and you could see him bite his lip hard enough to draw blood beneath the curtains of his white bangs. you grabbed his cheeks with your left hand and forced him to look at you through furrowed brows, and with your right hand, you pinned both of his hands above his head on the pillow, forcing them down. “you’re gonna be still for mommy, m’kay? that’s what you wanna fucking hear, don’t you, satoru? you wanna hear the sound of my voice degrading your worthless slut-ass for everything that you fucking are as i ride you into oblivion. that’s what you fuckin want, right, honey?” you cooed, although your words were nothing but sweet.

but they were to satoru. there were stars in his eyes as he looked up at you with those glossy, pretty blue eyes, batting his perfect, long and thick lashes, star struck by the sudden switch in personality you had endured. his cock was so hard that it sprung up to brush against your ass from behind as you straddled him tightly between your knees.

“there you fucking go, princess,” groaned suguru, now stroking his cock as you dominated satoru and hurt him with no mercy. “that’s how you fucking do it. good fucking girl… fuck yessss…” he threw his head back, pumping his wet length and running a hand through his damp, long black hair.

suguru’s praise motivated you to take it even further, and, without any warning, you lifted your hips and put all your weight on satoru, filling his length expand your tight inner walls and hit the surface of your cervix.

“fuck!” gojo cried in shock, and, on instinct, his hands slipped from your grip holding his hands down above his head and move to the flesh of your hips. you slowly began to move on his cock, pulling and teasing his release with each wet, sloppy, drunken, deliberate movement, and he moaned, overstimulated from his previous multiple edging sessions “ughhhhhhhnn.. don’t… stoppp… fuckkk..!”

gojo threw his head pack, his hair sprawled in messily on his forehead and on the silk pillowcase beneath him his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he gripped your hips and thrusted into your warm pussy. he pumped into you over and over and over again with no intention of stopping. now that he had you in his grip, gojo would never let you go — you were his for life now. he wouldn’t just let this be a drunken one night stand, no… “fuck..! ngh!!” he exclaimed in shocking pleasure as the tight walls of your hot, wet womanhood pulled and tugged and squeezed from the base to the tip of his beaten cock, and both of your juices leaked from your hole and onto the bedsheets and on your skin. at this rate, he was gonna get you fucking pregnant… fuck… the idea of you as a mother, with a swollen belly, making dinner for him on a sunday morning as he pressed into you from behind, a cup of hot coffee in his hand, suguru watching tv and drinking his own morning coffee in the living room… the perfect image of his future flashed in his mind in a millisecond just in that moment, and suddenly he didn’t want to pull out. you were all old enough to have a child, you, suguru, and satoru, all at the perfect age to raise one… raising a child, or maybe even two, maybe three, maybe four, with you and suguru sounded like heaven to him… so why not? after all, he couldn’t help it if he came inside that perfect little pussy of yours… it was all too tempting… it all felt too fucking good…

“ah ah ah..! don’t fucking stop mommy- ngh!!” satoru whined as you grabbed his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you fucked him silly, the sounds of slopping and pumping and lewd wetness painting the walls of satoru’s room. he didn’t know how much longer he could contain himself before he came inside-

“fuck it all to hell,” suguru growled, letting go of his cock and moving over to you and satoru, and, all of a sudden, suguru geto’s cock was pressed against the entrance of your asshole as he pushed your back down, forcing your tits against satoru’s face, which he welcomed in surprise, giving him access to your other needy hole. you knew suguru’s intentions the moment he pushed you down, to double penetrate you. you breathed in anticipation as suguru tapped the phone beside you all on the bed, turning his cock’s vibrating piercing on full blast. you gulped. you had done anal only once before in your life, so you were somewhat prepared, but it was still incredibly painful when suguru lubricated your asshole with his saliva and pushed himself in with no warning.

“a-ahh!” you cried in agony, the burning sensation of suguru’s cock in your ass making you see stars for a second from how badly it hurt. you paused for a moment, gasping for air as satoru became aware of the situation, his own thrusts dropping in pace for moment. “fuck fuck fuck!” you cursed in a whisper, lowering your head and squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

it hurt less than the first time you had done anal, which was good, you suppose, but it still fucking hurt like hell. it took a solid sixty seconds and a half before you instructed suguru to start moving.

and then both satoru gojo and suguru geto were pumping their hard, wet cocks inside both of your holes, both pairs of hands fondling and gripping every square inch of your body — neither of them could get enough of you, or of each other’s moans and cries and grunts of pleasure. and you were here for all of it.

soon the pain of you asshole being stretched had dissipated, and you could fully indulge in the pleasure of them both fucking you simultaneously. gojo played with your clit as they both pumped in and out, up and down, and you hardly had to move as both of the men did all the work. you felt like a spoiled princess, you felt like you were in heaven, and you had almost convinced yourself this was all a dream. but it wasn’t. this was all real.

“ah, ah…” suguru moaned in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin, already so close to his release from the grip of your tight ass around his thick cock. “tell satoru what a good fucking boy he’s being for us, hm? tell him, y/n, nghhh-“ suguru could hardly contain himself as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his hair sticking in clumps to his neck and shoulders as the muscles of his forearms, biceps, and triceps all clenched as he gripped and smacked and fondled your ass. the vibrations of his cock piercing stimulated the g-spot in your ass so fucking good. you don’t know how much longer you could contain yourself.

suguru didn’t have to tell you twice. you weakly and sloppily kissed satoru, already only a few centimeters from his lips, drool dribbling down his lips as he whined. you raised a hand to gently wipe the tears falling down his cheeks, so indescribably pleasured by both you and suguru it had brought him to tears. you broke the kiss, biting roughly down on his bottom lip before you pulled away, struggling to catch your breath before you spoke.

“y-youre bein such a good boy- ngh-“ you were unable to speak for a moment, and satoru was so entranced by the perfection of your bouncing tits, the juicy wetness of your plump lips, the sensation of your tight pussy pumping him dry, the feeling of his best friend suguru gripping onto his hip with one hand and yours with the other for support as he fucked you from behind, to even care. finally, you were able to continue: “ah, ah..! fuck, satoru, you’re such a good bo- boy for mommy. d-don’t stop. keep making me feel good. you… ngh… you can do that for mommy, hm?”

satoru only nodded, unable to form the words. it wasn’t very long before his cock began to twitch inside of you uncontrollably from his overstimulation. “f-fuck..! suguru.. ngh..!” he whined loudly, so loudly you worried for just a moment the party downstairs could hear you all, but you also found yourself not giving a fuck as you proceeded to bounce on satoru when he couldn’t thrust into you himself anymore. he had also stopped fondling your clit and tits, but you didn’t need him to anymore — him and suguru fucking you at the same time was enough for the knot in your stomach begin to unfurl. satoru whimpered like the pathetic little slut he was, and moaned: “fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking perfect, i-i’m gonna-“

“-m-me too.. ngh!!” you cried the sight of satoru gojo beneath you, his hair a mess against the silk pillowcase, his bangs sticking in clumps against his forehead, his long lashes wet with his tears, his lips wet and swollen from your kisses and bites… fuck, your pussy clenched as you came harder than you ever had before, your inner walls of your pussy and ass simultaneously pulsating and clenching with your release, and for that moment, it felt like your body had ascended into another plane of existence.

“fuck!!” suguru cursed as his pumps in your ass became more sloppy and weak, and you felt the warmth of his seed pouring into you and leaking out… fuck, there was so much… then, finally, satoru came, whining and crying your and geto’s names (and even a few “mommy” and “daddy”s) in unintelligible whispers as his blue irises rolled to the back of his head, so overstimulated from it all that his body violently jerked as he came inside you. both satoru and suguru’s seed leaked from your beaten holes, and the sensation of them both pumping their seed inside you made your high last even longer.

when you all came down, you crawled into bed naked with satoru and almost fell asleep immediately. suguru took it upon himself to throw on some clothes to tell everyone (aside from his frat brothers that lived with him) to get the fuck out, that the party was over — you made note to thank him later. you knew you would all be so fucking hungover in the morning, but you didn’t care. satoru enveloped you in his warm embrace and you fell quickly asleep, suguru ensuring to turn out the lights before he left to call the party off. and about fifteen minutes later, suguru returned, and you could feel hear him lock the door behind him in the darkness of satoru’s room, undress himself again, and crawled into bed on the other side of you, pressing your body against his and falling fast asleep. you went to bed with a smile.

maybe polyamory didn’t sound so bad.

the end.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

holy fuck that took me like three hours to write lmfao. (Ő︵Ő)

anyway, i hope you all enjoyed <3 if you did, please interact! i will also take requests if anyone has any ideas for me!! i’m hoping posting oneshots on tumblr will motivate me to start writing fics on ao3 again lol.

until next time my lovelies!! stay hydrated you horny bitchesssss. ヾ(*▼・▼)ﾉ⌒☆

[hanafubukki]

Hello I'm here to deliver angst :3

Imagine an alternate universe where Yuu is king Henrik's kid

They've been secretly dating knight of dawn for a while and even fantasized about eloping

When the war starts they get locked away in a tower like a prisoner for their safety, only knight of dawn and Henrik were allowed to enter

When the humans lose the war Henrik accepts defeat and offers his child as a war trophy to the general in exchange for being kept alive in prison

Yuu and knight of dawn are devastated by this but Yuu goes through with it for the sake of making the lives of the people that used to be part of their now conquered kingdom

Time passes by and Lilia is now in a poly relationship with knight and Yuu. Yuu had given birth to silver not too long ago

Yuu was collecting some berries while their husbands were home with silver. Just before they enter their cottage a group of Henrik loyalists attack them

Lilia and Dawn try to get to them but just before they could Yuu gets hit with a spell that transports them to the future

Cue the plot of twisted wonderland

Lilia and Dawn deeply cherish silver as he's the only remaining part of Yuu they have. They tried Searching, interrogating but no matter what they did no one uttered a peep about what spell Yuu was hit with and no amount of tracking spells could find them

Malleus was the first person to recognise Yuu as they were a parent he loved but wasn't allowed to be with publicly due to the senate push back

Hello Anonie 🌷🌺🌸

You know Anonie when I received this ask, I laughed because I was like “I won’t make Malleus and Lilia angst to cope I won’t make angst to cope.”

And then I received this ask as if it’s a sign and just ended up laughing. 😂

OT3 angst it is, except I’m feeling a bit rebellious and I want a happy ending so I’m going to give it to them to the best I can. 😌👏🙏

But also imagine being Henrik’s kid? Silver had a breakdown? Imagine your father being the one to cause so much grief and death? Yikes. 😮‍💨

Your father just gives you up for his own head argh. You can’t do anything because you’re royalty and you don’t want your people to suffer.

You willingly go to the fae side as a royal captive, leaving behind you lover and your people.

You expected to be treated terribly, but you’re not? You still get fae that looks down on you of course. But the fae royal treat you cordially enough. You even get your own guard, a well known one in fact, General Vanrouge.

He’s a surly one and one that makes sure to keep an eye on you for any suspicious actives…but he doesn’t treat you bad.

In fact, he’s rather nice to you in his own way. It’s kind of charming. Similar and yet different than your Knight of Dawn.

Eventually a sort of tie is formed between humans and fae per Levan’s and your cooperation.

And you suddenly find yourself��in a relationship with both Dawn and Lilia. Meleanor finds it hilarious and this is used as a way to ease relations between races. Let’s call it an arranged marriage of sorts 😂

You (royalty), Dawn (well known Knight), and Lilia (the General) would make for a great image of peace, wouldn’t you say?

You’re enjoying life. A beautiful baby, wonderful husbands, and funny in laws and their cute dragon kid.

Everything was fine, until it wasn’t.

You get attacked by loyalists. They asked you to be the figure head of the rebellion group and cut ties with the fae. Of course you didn’t, in the end you got hit with a mysterious spell.

You disappeared right in front of Dawn and Lilia’s eyes. No matter what they did, they couldn’t find you.

And this is where I’m going to twist your scenario Anonie. A plan is made. This is yet to be a world of peace. It will take awhile. So Dawn, Silver, and Malleus is put to sleep. Until peace is brought. So history won’t repeat itself as it did with you.

Lilia is awake, he’s takes the mantle of helping relations between countries with Levan. An ambassador of you will.

The first one to wake is Malleus like in canon.

Then you have Silver.

A couple years after, it’s Dawn.

Years pass, and most of them end up at NRC. Dawn is a sword instructor at RSA but also part of NRC as well. Easier way to spend time with family this way.

Then comes the day of Grim’s mayhem but the difference? Diasomnia was evacuated from the mirror chamber. They had to make sure Malleus and co were protected. They weren’t going to make the same mistakes.

So how do you meet Malleus and the others?

Well of course like in canon, Malleus realizes someone now lives at Ramshackle dorm.

You noticed glowing lights and they look and feel familiar. You run outside and is shocked to see Meleanor…no, it’s not her but Malleus. He’s all grown up.

Malleus recognized you right away. You both have an emotional reunion.

You were reunited with one of your boys again. 🥹💞

Soon after, another emotional reunion takes place with the rest.

———

Extra:

*Some time in the future*

You’re reading a history book for Trein’s class but half of what’s written…didn’t happen that way?

“This didn’t happen.”

Lilia, nonchalantly, “Don’t mind it. We had to change some things on how the war took place and ended.”

You couldn’t be happier, “Good, I hope that asshole of a father of mine died in misery and shame.”

———

[catreadsbooks]

Jace kisses Alec (cut from City of Glass)

So below is, the original version of the scene that begins on page 137 in City of Glass, “Jace looked at Alec steadily. “What’s between you and Magnus Bane? In the original version, Jace actually does kiss Alec, more to make a point than anything else, but the resultant scene made me laugh and made my editor laugh, hysterically. It didn’t work — made the emotional impact of Jace telling off Alec less. I warn you, it is not romantic.  - Cassie

Jace looked at Alec steadily. Then he said, “What’s between you and Magnus Bane?” Alec’s head jerked to the side, as if Jace had slapped him or pushed him. “I don’t — there’s nothing —” “I know better,” Jace said, forestalling him. “I’m not stupid. Tell me the truth.” “There isn’t anything between us,” Alec said — and then, catching the look on Jace’s face, added with great reluctance, “any more. There’s nothing between us any more. Okay?” “And why is that? Magnus really liked you.” “Drop it, Jace,” Alec said in a warning tone. Jace was having none of being warned. “Magnus says it’s because you’re hung up on me. Is that true?” There was a moment of utter silence. Then Alec gave a despairing howl of horror and put his hands up to cover his face. “I am going to kill Magnus. Kill him dead.” “Don’t. He cares about you. He really does. I believe that,” Jace said, managing to sound only a little bit awkward. “Look. I don’t want to push you into anything, but do you maybe want to —” “Call Magnus? Look, that’s a dead end, I know you’re trying to be helpful, but —” “—kiss me?” Jace finished. Alec looked as if he were about to fall off his chair. “WHAT? What? What?” “Once what would do.” Jace did his best to look as if this were the sort of suggestion one made all the time. “I think it might help.” Alec looked at him with something like horror. “You don’t mean that.” “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” “Because you’re the straightest person I know. Possibly the straightest person in the universe.” “Exactly,” Jace said, and leaned forward, and kissed Alec on the mouth. The kiss lasted approximately four seconds before Alec pulled forcefully away, throwing his hands up as if to ward Jace off from coming at him again. He looked as if he were about to throw up. “By the Angel,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.” “Oh yeah?” Jace grinned, and almost meant it. “That bad?” “Like kissing my brother,” said Alec, with a look of horror in his eyes. “I thought you might feel that way.” Jace crossed his arms over his chest. “Also, I’m hoping we can just gloss over all the irony in what you just said.” “We can gloss over whatever you want to,” Alec said fervently. “Just don’t kiss me again.” “I’m not going to. I have other business to take care of.” Jace stood up, kicking his chair back. “If anyone asks where I am, tell them I went for a walk.” “Where are you actually going?” Alec asked, watching him walk to the door. “To see Clary?” “No.” Jace shook his head. “I’m going to the Gard. I’m going to break Simon out of jail.”

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

Strange creatures... | Odd human...

Synopsis: The very first thing he wondered was why he wasn't burning under the sun. The second being why he wasn't in the Infinity Castle when he was mere moments ago. Why was he in a forest? The air smelled different and even this location's energy felt different... What was that giant creature? Why was the woman next to it not running away?

Warnings: N/A.

Content contains: Kimetsu no Yaiba + Steven Universe.

Upper Rank/Moon Four, Hantengu - Aizetsu.

Blue Diamond.

Blue Pearl.

Term meaning:

Minka -> traditional Japanese house.

Note: So, I've started with this little idea of mine. Been motivated but am currently keeping my mind off requests, which is also why they're closed! This is a 'start' to this post and just a little bit of fun really. Might write up the others, might not. Anyways, enjoy! + I apologise for shitty translation, Google translate is my only option since I'm a little lazy to look for more. I FOUND A BETTER TRANSLATOR (I HOPE IT'S BETTER)

This is not a guaranteed project.

I am by no means a Steven Universe fan, however, I have seen some clips of the show and the one that I chose was when Blue Diamond visited Earth to talk to Pink Diamond's shrine thingy.

Aizetsu looked around cautiously, trying to detect any sort of danger or enemies. However, he seemed to have found none. This is entire place was not... where he was from. His homeland. He's surprised to even call it that. It didn't feel like Japan and it didn't look like it either. There were no minkas and everything he saw, even felt was too advanced for him to comprehend. The air smelled different in a way he could not understand. It didn't smell like the fresh air he was used. It smelled... corrupted almost. He didn't know what it was but it made him uneasy. Aizetsu began to wander around a bit, trying to find out where exactly he is until he was stopped by a distant voice which he heard due to his sharp hearing.

"Oh, Pink..."

Instantly, Aizetsu turned to the direction of the voice, ears twitching as he picked up more of the voice he had heard. It was soft, feminine, compassionate almost—sorrowful like him. He didn't know how but he just felt something about this voice. Simply by what he assumed is a woman, he could tell that she understood his feelings, pathetic as that might sound especially from an Upper Rank like himself. He found himself instantly drawn to the voice but remained cautious thinking it was a trap to lure him in. Using his flesh manipulation, he summoned his yari and slowly walked towards the direction of the voice, hyperaware of his surroundings as he did so.

"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry..."

Aizetsu then stopped, trying to process the words only to realise that he did not understand a word she had uttered. How odd. Suddenly, he was extremely tense, ready to dodge at even the slightest sign of danger. Nevertheless the demon approached until he was met with a few bushes. However, it weren't the bushes that had caught his attention, the bushes were the least of his worries. It were the things beyond it. His eyes landed on a sort of pink shrine and a very large, blue cloaked figure which appeared to be hunched and alongside the figure a blue-skinned woman, hair clearly covering her face and dressed in a strange outfit which had a skirt he could only describe as water. The grip on his yari tightened more if it were even possible, Aizetsu had his Blood Demon Art on standby should the creature notice him to attack. However, from what he's heard alone, he can tell it possesses some intelligence.

"I should've done more. Yellow says it'll all be over soon."

Aizetsu hated that he couldn't understand what she said. He needed to know what this woman was saying—he needed to know if he was in danger.

"I wonder what you would think of this. This is your planet after all. I still think it is..."

The demon then crouched behind the bushes, forming a plan in his mind to try and figure out what exactly this being was and if it were a demon of some sort. The idea that a creature that large could be a demon did not seem impossible, but one weaker than an Upper Moon very much so did. Unfortunately, Aizetsu was so consumed in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed that the slight crack of a nearby bush thus drawing the attention of both the woman and the bigger creature.

"What are you doing over there?"

He was instantly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard her voice turn into that of a questioning tone. He crouched lower, yari gripped tightly as he heard the footsteps of the woman. The closer she got, Aizetsu felt compelled to strike her with his yari and just when he was about to, he stopped himself, noticing that neither the woman or creature had noticed his presence. "I thought I heard someone." He got a got a closer look at her and in the process was able to take in her scent. "I think we're not alone." He immediately noticed that the woman herself was no human and neither demon. This fact confused him and he couldn't help but stand up to try and observe both creatures better. Unfortunately, that act immediately exposed his location as the blue-skinned creature turned around much to his dismay. "Pearl?" His eyes snapped towards the direction of the bigger creature, instantly alert of its every move before his attention was once again directed towards the blue-skinned woman who suddenly made a sort of hand gesture before bowing. "My Diamond, I have a found a native." What were they saying?! It frustrated the demon that the words weren't even being comprehended at that point and he was almost tempted to attack. Nevertheless, he remained calm, observing both creatures keenly.

"... Bring it here."

The woman then began to walk, however, quickly stopped when she realised that Aizetsu wasn't following. This confused her as she then gestured for him to follow. Aizetsu refused, believing it was a sort of a trap as he then took a step back and narrowed his eyes at both of them. "Inochi ga oshiinara, jisei shiro... [Restrain yourself if you value your life...]" Aizetsu warned, not expecting them to understand but did so anyways as he then raised his yari slightly. He assumed she would get the hint and back away but it seemed as if she didn't and tried to approach him once more, this time reaching an arm to grab him. Aizetsu reacted by slicing off her hand faster than she could react as a warning and remaining quiet, simply giving her a sorrowful glare. The woman yelped in pain and stepped back in shock and a hint of fear. "M-My Diamond..." She seemed to retreat towards the creature he assumed was her master and remained vigilant. "Where is it?" The creature then turned around which revealed to Aizetsu a large rather curvaceous woman who appeared very sad. He could sense her sorrow and almost pitied her. Almost. Her gaze immediately landed on her companion who quickly bowed down and seemed to be apologising.

She then redirected her gaze towards Aizetsu, curious and a bit offended. "How did a human manage to do such a thing...?" The woman then stood up and approached Aizetsu with a few steps. Aizetsu in turn backed away, yari prepared and ready to use his Blood Demon Art. "Stay still..." He noticed that she was attempting to grab him but before she could take even one step closer, he disappeared from her eyesight leaving her and her companion confused. "What is this?" The creature would be surprised by a rather firm energy trust near her neck. She looked to her shoulder with wide eyes as she once again saw Aizetsu before he once again disappeared faster than she could react. This time, he was right before them once more, clearly displeased. "Jibun no namae, jibun ga nanimono ka, soshite kono basho ga nandearu ka o noberu. [State you names, what you are and what this place is.]" They both looked at him, confused at every word he had just uttered and simply stood there. "It does not understand us. We're scaring it, Pearl." Aizetsu listened intently on what both of the individuals said, trying to use the tones of their voices as cues on what they might do next but ultimately failing due to it not changing.

His eyes were trained on both individuals, noticing even the slightest twitch they make as he remained quiet. The giant creature then knelt down, remaining a safe distance from him before extending her hand, gesturing him to approach. However, Aizetsu remained stubborn and even backed away, a nasty glare painted on his face as he did so. "Do not be afraid. I won't harm you." From what he had tried to understand of what she said, he assumed that she won't harm him. He assumed she'd try to hint at that as a means of luring him in, but then he heard a name that he could translate into his own language. "I am Blue Diamond, human. I'm merely here to visit what was once hers." The giantess had shown no signs of malicious intent but Aizetsu refused to lower his guard. He did, however, decide to state his name and nothing more. "Watashi wa Aizetsu... [I am Aizetsu...]" The giantess seemed to have partially understood what he said before smiling softly. "Aizetsu. What an odd name. I've never heard anything like it..." Aizetsu noticed her observing him as he then tensed again. However, like the other times, she showed no signs of malice.

She then frowned softly before asking him a question, not expecting him to understand. "Do you grieve too, Aizetsu?" The expression he had, the furrowed eyebrows, deep blue eyes which with strange characters inscribed into hiis pupils, his frown. All of that gave her subtle hints at what he might feel. "Iya... [No...]" He simply responded, shaking his head, almost as if he understood the question. It almost felt like she asked if he grieved. What and why would he grieve? The humans so unfortunate enough to ever come across him and his clone brethren along with the past humans who have and have died various gruesome deaths? No. He could pity those creatures. He could only pity them for their weakness, that they are not as powerful as him. How do such weak things live?

At the moment, however, Aizetsu was thinking only one thing and so was Blue Diamond.

'Kimyōna ikimono da… [Such strange creatures...]'

'What an odd human...'

Note: That was a fun little experiment.

Divider credits:

Bubbles

Gradient and blue divider by rookthorneartistry

Taglist: @hawnkoii @fallstreakfeathers @dreamcorechild @lumitylovepill @hantengus-fuckass-clones @sunbrokenswords @georgette-mademoiselle @hearts4mitsuri @star-dust-wanderer @shytastemakerthing

[prin-does-art]

Hi again, so the second chapter! I hope y'all like this fluff. I gave my best on this chapter, however this is my first fic and english is not my first language, so apologies if anything sounds confusing, and please let me know in the comments. Again, any spanish spoken will be translated in the end, so don't worry ;)

Title: One And The Opposite

Rating: Teens and Up (swearing, mentions of sex)

Summary: After filling the shoes of his alternate self in a parallel universe, Miguel O'Hara swiftly discovers that embodying a different version of himself is far more challenging than he initially anticipated. As he juggles with the complexities of family dynamics, with a wife and daughter who both expect him to be the man they remember, he tries to stay afloat, grappling with the pros and cons of navigating two lives simultaneously.

OR

A domestic Miguel trying his best.

Chapter 2: Sweet reunion

"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!" he hears a voice shout from down the hallway, as the door slams shut, followed by the loud noise of keys rattling and plastic bags crinkling.

Miguel turns around to look at her for the first time, and it's nothing like he thought it would be, to say the least. He imagines it’s like if he were living life immersed in tiger illustrations, and then got to see the real thing for the very first time. It feels like he’s standing in the presence of a real tiger, with its raw power, the rhythmic pulse of its fur, and the untamed wilderness echoing in its eyes. His breath catches as he steps back to really look at her in awe.

Moving through the kitchen in a busy sway, she goes about putting the groceries away, all the while speaking almost too fast to understand like every Spanish speaker ever. It’s as if she hasn't even spotted him there yet — so comfortable with his presence. 

"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a... estas bien?" She asks, getting on the tips of her toes to give him a kiss.

As much as he tries not to, Miguel is startled by the sudden contact, and it must show on his face because she notices too.

"Que te pasa, mi amor?" She asks, a look of confusion in her face that makes her look even more beautiful.

"I uh... I... Just got robbed." He blurts out. 

Even after a day of practicing his Spanish accent, English still instinctively surfaces as his immediate response — it's become much more natural than his native language at this point. The perplexity in her eyes immediately turns into worry as she puts a hand on his face and examines him up and down.

"Are you ok? Did they hurt you!?" She thankfully also speaks English, although with a slight accent that Miguel can’t quite figure out where it’s from. 

"No, no, yo estoy bien. I'm fine just... A little shaken. He had a gun." He answers, gently holding her hand back.

She stares at him, a twinge of shock coloring her features, then looks down at his hand. He gets worried for a second that even though his talons are concealed, something else might be giving him away. Something he doesn’t know about. He can't help the way his heart must be beating a mile a minute, threatening to jump out of his chest.

"Well, you're safe now, okay? Don't worry about it too much." The way she casually utters it confirms for him that this sort of thing happens frequently here. She only smiles sympathetically at him, not even asking what they took — if anything.

He sighs in relief as she says that, and smiles back, taking the chance to get a good look at her face. 

Brown eyes like his, a few moles here and there. Worry lines between her brows that paint a picture of a woman who hasn't had everything handed to her, or the easiest life. He can't help but think he chose well. 

"Listen, I can go pick up Briella, you stay here and I'll-" she says, swiftly turning around to grab her keys.

"No, no, it's okay, I can do it. It's fine." He quickly insists, knowing he has to use every opportunity to get to know his family, and his alternate version better. 

"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor." She warns, placing another kiss on his lips.

*

He gets there early, watching from his car as some parents start making their way towards the entrance. While he contemplates waiting inside the front office — an idea that might be a bit excessive, though it would allow him to catch an earlier glimpse of Gabriella — staying in the car seems neglectful at best. So he settles on waiting near the front of the school until the bell rings.

When it finally does, a crowd of kids emerges from the building, and with them a cacophony of screams and voices as he nervously shifts his weight around, willing himself to stay calm while trying to spot his daughter in the crowd.

“¿Apá?” She asks, right next to him . Miguel looks down at her, startled. 

He must have been so distracted looking through hundreds of faces, that he didn’t even notice her coming up to him. It doesn’t help that she’s tiny, barely reaching past his hips, and the school uniform makes her blend right in with the navy blue crowd.

“Oh hi there! You scared me!” He tells her with a laugh, trying to play it off.

Gabriella blinks at him. “You didn’t wait in the car this time.” 

Uh oh. Is that bad? Maybe she was embarrassed of leaving with her father, maybe the kids would make fun of her for it now. He quickly scans the surroundings, seeing not that many kids leaving with their parents.

“Uh… Right. Well, I wanted to walk with you, if that’s ok…” He explains, fighting the urge to lean down so she doesn’t feel as small to him.

Thankfully she just shrugs, and turns to leave after he offers to carry her backpack for her. They start walking in silence, with Miguel more afraid of being found out than he was earlier, with her mother.

It’s silly, really: She’s a child, barely nine years old. However, his mind keeps racing trying to figure out what to say, what to ask that’s not going to give him away immediately, while at the same time reassuring himself that it’s okay, that she doesn’t know yet.

“So… How was school?” He asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“It was alright.” She answers dryly, staring at the floor as she walks.

“Soo was it alright as in boring, or…?” He risks the question, wanting to know more about her day.

She seems pensive for a moment, considering him. “It’s just that the boys keep making fun of me and Isa again. Even Sam joined in, and he doesn't even play soccer!” She frowns, continuing. “They keep saying we’re never gonna play like Messi Jr because we’re girls.” 

He can feel his fists closing into tight balls when she says that. He knows first hand just how insufferable boys her age could get, especially dealing with Kron and all the hell he’d put him through at school, but he also knows that when it comes to girls they act ten times worse. 

So even though he has no idea who ‘Messi Jr’ is, he figures instead of speaking out of anger and cursing the hell out of these boys, he should at least try and help her with her insecurities instead. 

“Why are you worried about being exactly like Messi Jr when you can be so much better than him?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

She keeps silent for a moment, seeming hesitant. “Really? You think so?” 

“Of course I do! You’re great!” He answers honestly. 

Miguel remembers watching her play a little fútbol prior to coming here. He had been surprised to find out how good she played for her age before…  

Suddenly, he’s almost overwhelmed by the thought of what would have happened to her had he not been here. He has a vision of this lovely little girl he just met being thrusted into a childhood filled with grief. 

No paternal figure there for her. A perpetual sadness that got particularly worse on every father’s day, an endless list of things he would never get to teach her. A constant wondering of what it could have been, what would have been like to have him there. 

He can’t help but feel glad that he could take his place. That he could be there for her in this way and fill this void. It’s an impossible responsibility, yet one he’s happy to take nonetheless. 

Shaking his thoughts away, he continues. “And besides, it’s like you said, right? What does Sam know about soccer, he doesn’t even play! Also, there are some great women players around the world too.” He smiles with a sudden enjoyment, excited to play this role the best way he knew how to.

Gabriella looks like she notices his thrilled state, eyeing him sideways with a curious look. “I know, I know. It’s just that it annoys me, you know?” she says, back to looking pensive. 

“Yeah, that’s… True. And the more it annoys you, the more they do it…” He admits, more to himself than her.

Miguel didn’t want to be a walking cliché. He didn’t have much advice to give her, besides things he really wanted to say but couldn’t. Like: She’s a lovely little girl, that he’s glad to be here for her and she’s actually so much more than he ever imagined, that she could be anything she put her mind to, and already he couldn't think of a single thing he wouldn’t do if she asked him to. No, that would be too much in too little time. Instead, he had to go with what was appropriate.

“You know, you’re gonna find people like that everywhere you go. I have people I don’t like at work, too. The thing is how you deal with them. But don't worry, you’ll learn that with time. it’s not like there’s a recipe for it, you know?” He tells her.

She keeps quiet for a moment, listening to him. Was that also too much?

But then she just nods in understanding as he opens the door of the car for her to get in.

*

“Not again, Gabriella. Again!?”

“¿Qué?” Gabriella asks, rubbing her feet on a rug by the entrance of the apartment when the both of them come in.

“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” María raises her voice, pointing to her daughter's legs.

“But mooom! It was just a quick cascarita! And I’m not even that dirty!” Gabriella insists, gesturing towards her white socks, which funny enough are covered in green and brown spots, especially by the knees.

“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda, take it off and give it here.” She orders after letting out a breath. 

“Sí mamá.” Says Briella, pouting and dragging her feet to her room, looking annoyed.

Miguel also drags his feet by the threshold, setting his keys on a hook next to the door. He takes off his boots, eyeing the three pairs of slippers nearby. Hesitantly, he puts one of them on, the irony in the mundane gesture settling heavy in his chest, the weight of deception tugging annoyingly at his conscience.

Since he’s already taken a quick look around the place before she arrived from work, he gets to inspect things a little closer this time around.

The entryway is adorned with sleek porcelain tiles that extend seamlessly into the living space. A smart home system panel mounted on the wall offers control over lighting, temperature, and security, right next to the hook where he hung his keys. To the side, there’s a wall-mounted shelf holding a curated display of art and what looks to be some personal mementos. 

A water bill sits on top of it, the sight striking an odd chord — in a time where holographic displays and digital transactions were the norm, a paper bill practically seems like a relic from another time — but also allowing him to find out her full name, which he immediately commits to memory.

“I think she thinks the socks make her look more like a professional player.” María tells him a while later, while slicing some meat by the sink. “We should buy her a pair of those so she stops ruining her uniform.” 

He nods in agreement, putting a plate down as he lets the reality sink in, that this is really happening. This is his life now. 

He’s married, he has a beautiful wife, and he’s also father to a beautiful little girl. And he couldn't be happier. Couldn’t have asked for anything else in life. 

It’s like he just woke up from a bad dream, straight into the life he’s always wanted to live.

Like he’s exactly where he belongs. 

So he helps María with the food. Luckily, he must be incompetent at the kitchen in every universe, because her instructions are extremely detailed, as they prepare carne a la tampiqueña for three.

María yells for Gabriella to come, and they all eat in silence after joining hands around the table for a quick, silent prayer. 

*

Later, María is washing the socks while he cleans the table, and Maná plays in the background. She grooves with the rhythm, singing and humming now and then, completely oblivious to it all.

Objectively, he knows that he’s hiding a lot from her, but his heart can’t help but ache a little at how she’s not intimidated at all by his presence, in fact, she’s used to it. For once, he doesn’t feel like a freak or a monster the way he inadvertently does among the other spiders. 

She spots him there, lost in thought as he finishes up, and says “I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx.” 

“What?” He’s pulled from his thoughts by the weird phrase.

“Maná. The vocalist, I heard they’re reconstructing his larynx to help the A.I replicate his voice better. Can you believe that!?” She explains “That’s why I’m listening to their original songs, I heard it on the news today.”

He blinks slowly, trying to figure out if he’s supposed to be used to things like these. “That’s… Crazy, honestly.”

“Right? I mean, the fact that we aren’t able to tell the difference for most artists nowadays is already pretty insane to me, and now they’re reconstructing the larynx of a dead guy to make a robot replicate his voice better? Come on now!” She remarks, turning back to look at him.

“I know, it’s so wild to think about.” He says, taking the chance to look around the room. 

Sleek countertops adorned in marble, bearing the scars of a few culinary adventures that her and his alternate self probably didn’t have the time to clean yet; Rectangular windows above the kitchen sink, lined with cheap plastic containers labeled “basil”, “rosemary” and a few other herbs, bringing a nice green contrast to the brushed metal accents; A smart fridge on the corner, adorned with Gabriella’s drawings held by magnets all throughout it. Some things never change.

He approaches the fridge, taking one of the drawings to inspect it closer. It’s a crudely drawn version of him… His alternate self, with exaggerated triangular shoulders and, most tellingly, what looks like a phone buzzing in his hand.

María seems to notice his curiosity, approaching to look at the drawing too.

“Listen I know, you must be still a little shaken from… Before,” She tells him carefully “Just… Try not to think too much about it, okay? You’re here, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

He puts the drawing back as she places a cold hand on his face again, gently willing him to meet her eyes. 

“I know, I know. It’s just… I was afraid for a second, that’s all.” He says, sincere in his words but not the real meaning behind them.

“And that’s okay. I’m here.” She assures him, pulling him by the arm gently.

The low hum of the city outside is a distant lullaby as they settle into the living room.

She takes a bottle from on top of a cabinet, wordlessly pouring two cups. He takes a sip, letting the burning soothe his nerves.

"I didn’t think I'd make it back." He lies, gaze lingering on the symmetrical floor panels.

Her hand finds his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You did, and you're here now."

“Yeah… I am.” An inward glow softing his expression, the sensation of a smile blooming from deep within as he stares into her eyes.

As the night unfolds, the room is filled with shared glances and unspoken understanding. María lays her head on his shoulder, caressing him. 

And he can’t help but think that this could work. 

This could really work.

*

When they go to bed, after making sure Briella did her homework and wishing her goodnight of course, María takes off her bra in front of him, and slips on a loose nightgown.

He hates that for so many things that he had considered before coming here, this hadn’t even crossed his mind at all. Hesitantly, he pulls off his own clothes, not able to help how flushed red his face must be. 

Thankfully, María doesn’t seem to notice this, as she’s busy settling into bed and pulling the sheets towards herself. He sits besides her underneath them, awkwardly stiff, and she pulls him into a sideways hug, humming quietly. 

"You seem so different today." She observes, fingers lightly tracing circles on the sheets next to him.

He freezes, eyes widening but trying not to look at her.

"Yeah… It's been a long day.” He says, clearing his throat. “I'm just tired, that’s all. Besides, I gotta wake up early tomorrow. You know how it is, work.” He explains, thinking it’s a good enough excuse.

She turns to fully look at him, blinking in amusement. “It’s friday. Did you forget?” 

He closes his eyes. Fuck.

“Yeah, yeah, right. I meant workout, you know? Gym? I just need some rest.” He corrects, pulling away from her a little and cursing himself inwardly for talking so much.

She seems to get the message, recoiling as well.

“You and your Gym. Should at least try eating those packed proteins just like everyone else.” She tells him, turning her back to him, reaching for the light switch on her side of the bed and then finally lying back down.

"Well, you know how I am," He says, turning off his side of the bed lamp as well but still remaining upright. She hums in agreement.

“Goodnight?” He asks, reluctantly.

“Goodnight.” She replies, sounding already half asleep.

*

"Gordo, eres tú? Ya llegué!” = Fatty is that you? I’ve arrived! 

(Keep in mind that ‘gordo’ is a wholesome way to call someone in spanish, and doesn’t mean she actually thinks he’s fat nor that she is body shaming Miguel).

"... Tu hermano no deja de llamarme, deberías ver qué quiere. Ah, y el 'forecast' del tiempo dice que el aire será irrespirable por unas horas, así que recuerda cuando te dirijas a… estas bien?”

=

“... Your brother won’t stop calling me, you should see what he wants. Ah, and the weather forecast says the air will be unbreathable for a few hours, so remember that when you’re heading to… Are you ok?”

"Que te pasa, mi amor?” = “What’s up with you, my love?”

“Estoy bien” = “I’m fine”

"Okay. Pero ten cuidado mi amor.” = “Okay, but be careful my love.”

“¿Apá?” = “Dad?”

“¿Qué?” = “What?”

“¿Cuántas veces te he dicho para no jugar fútbol con el uniforme? ¡Mírate! ¡Estás cubierta de pasto!” = “How many times have I told you to not play soccer with your uniform? Look at you! You’re covered in grass!”

Cascarita = an informal, purely friendly soccer match in Mexico. The equivalent for a ‘pelada’ in Brazilian Portuguese, although if you search for the term, make sure to include the word ‘futebol’ after it, as ‘pelada’ on its own simply means ‘naked’ haha

“¿A quién estás llamando 'mooom'? Anda [...]” = “Who are you calling ‘mooom’? Come on [...]”

“Sí mamá.” = “yes mom.” 

Carne a la tampiqueña = a traditional mexican meat dish

Lyla, play Mi religión by Maná :) Also you can read it on ao3

[dreamieparadise]

* failed flirting attempts * prompt. ( a drabble for gokudera x momina if possible)

Thank you for indulging me, Jojo...! Can't believe you're asking for drabbles knowing all I ever do is write way too long, tho....crazy but you asked for it!!! 😩

Pairing: Gokudera Hayato x Momina Luqman.

Warning: pathetic man behaviour, derogatory word usage: "pussy." Machismo. Gokudera and Momina are 19 here but what do I look like drawing art for this? So I put tyl Hayato as the picture [I'll draw something next time...]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. Third Time's The Charm ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Gokudera could hear his blood pounding in his ears as he recalled Shamal's words the other day.

"—Are you a pussy? Just go for it." The blunt words had been said without a shred of compassion towards the young man. In fact, with the way Shamal's face had been twisted, Gokudera was sure Shamal had lost even more respect for him.

The mere memory of that day filled him with rage and embarrassment. His ears once again threatening to turn red and angry against his pale skin.

Gokudera clenched his fists before he held the bathroom sink in a tight grip, leaning heavily against it. He hated the way his face reflected back at him, he really did look so pathetic and needy. A voice in the back of his mind went: "no wonder Shamal called you a pussy...."

Not only had years gone by since he and Momina met but they were now currently living together again while he went to the university nearby. Every day he saw her, and while it was utter bliss living together, he had tried and failed and tried and failed and tried and failed to confess to her or show her that he had any sort of romantic feelings for her.

Any time he tried his words would get stuck in his throat, his hands clammy and his breathing rapid. More than once Momina had asked if he was okay and if they needed to go to the hospital. It was utterly mortifying.

Still, he was a man and the man was the one who was supposed to take the lead in relationships! Even if up until this point it had been Momina.

Finding new found determination, Gokudera robotically confidently walked out of his bathroom and began searching for her.

When Gokudera found her she was making lahoh, just like she did every Sunday.

She grinned when she saw him, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Good morning, Hayato~! Did you sleep well...?"

Gokudera felt his heart skip a beat just from seeing her face and how quickly it brightened. His hands became clammy again, a person being so happy to see him still felt so undeserving, especially coming from the one he loved, but he soaked it in nonetheless. He eventually cleared his throat, looking away. "Ahem...y-yeah..."

Momina paused at his reaction. She was concerned but didn't want to pry so she grinned once more instead. "Okay, good! I hope you don't mind lahoh again...!" Her eyes widened suddenly as she added: "But you don't have to eat it if you don't want to! I can make you something else."

"I'd never mind it...!!" He spoke a little too fiercely, head whipping to her direction as his sea foam green eyes burned with intensity.

Momina, taken by surprise once more, eventually giggled. "I'm glad you like lahoh so much...!! That makes me really happy, Hayato!"

Gokudera felt his fingers tugging on the hem of his shirt. "Anything you make makes me happy..."

"Hmm?" Momina pushed her locks behind her ear. "What did you say...? Sorry, I didn't hear you...!"

"I said..." Gokudera felt his throat forming a lump again. "I said anything you make makes me happy..." He spoke a little louder this time but it was still just a mutter.

Momina paused before she turned the stove off and placed the last lahoh on the plate sitting on the counter. She then turned to Gokudera fully, her expression an apologetic one. "I'm sorry...! You don't have to repeat it again but I still didn't hear you..." Momina's hearing wasn't the best and she could feel herself sink. She hated burdening people like this.

Momina's downcast expression made Gokudera's heart race, the last thing he wanted to do was upset her. Without thinking he reached out and pulled her close to him, her long wavy hair bouncing as he leaned towards her in desperation. He wanted to make sure she could clearly see him.

"I said I love anything you make...! I love yoour cooking...!!" Gokudera was kicking himself by the end, too cowardly to express himself properly. His face and ears burned and he couldn't bare to look at her any longer.

Momina's stared up at him, taking his behaviour in again before her expression once more brightened. Her eyes sparkled as her cheeks rounded and she let out a giggle, swaying back and forth under his grip. "Hehe...! Yeah...? Yeah....? You think so? That makes me so happy!" Her happiness overflowed so much that she gave him a big hug and nestled her face into his chest, giggles escaping.

"I love making food for you!" She began as her gaze softened. She continued as she tilted her head upward. "Making sure you're eating well...that you're taken care of...it makes me so happy! I love you, Hayato...! I'm so glad we're living together again!!"

Gokudera felt himself short-circuit. Despite all his practice he found himself crumbling when up against Momina again.

Momina was still smiling when she felt him start to falter. Her eyes shot open in alarm, "Hayato!?"

"I-I'm fine...!" He spoke awkwardly, he was still struggling to keep himself upright, his grip on her loosened and his legs felt wobbly, even his head spun.

"Let's sit you down...!!!" Momina exclaimed, still holding him close but readjusting her grip on him as she led him to the nearest chair.

And with that another romantic failure was etched into the tapestry of Gokudera Hayato's life. But at least he got to be doted on by Momina...?

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.| End |‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Extra:

"Pathetic, Kora!!" Colonello put down his binoculars and shook his head. He had witnessed another one of Gokudera's pathetic attempts to woo his cadet. "A real man would have just gone for it...! He's a complete pussy, hey!"

Shamal sighed, one hand digging into his hair while the other lowered his own binoculars. In spite of Shamal's lack of perceived interest in Gokudera, this did hurt his heart. He felt himself wanting to defend his charge but what was there to say...? He was a complete pussy!

"He should just let Momina lead...!!" Colonnello continued, he may as well be talking to himself.

Shamal finally spoke up as he rolled his eyes. "Look...I'm a gentleman---"

"Hah!!!"

"But there's no way that girl would confess! She'd have done it by now if she was even a little interested romantically! And anyway...what kind of man doesn't confess first...? This kid is the worst!"

Colonnello shook his head. "Don't look down on my student, Kora...! She's just stupid! She doesn't know how she feels so of course she isn't saying it!"

"...did you just call her stupid while saying not to look down on her...?" Shamal's face twisted incredulously. Talking to Colonnello was exhausting.

"It's not looking down on her if it's true! It's being realistic, Kora!" He crossed his arms. "The real problem is your kid! He's got no balls!"

"He's not my damn kid...!!!" Shamal's voice rose. He began going off on how he never slept with Lavina and how Gokudera wasn't one of his many biological children who he was still paying child support for. No one listened. No one cared.

Bianchi, who had been here the whole time, finally spoke up with a sigh. "My dear brother...truly...he doesn't have any balls." She shook her head. She would have to visit him once again and talk about this. Bianchi had been making such effort to push her brother to confess that she had gone as far as to talk to Momina about her dream wedding. And yet...

They all sighed, sitting in silence before they eventually got up and left their spots on the roof. They couldn't believe they've been watching this train wreck for years. Even so, they'd be reconvening once again, probably within a month's time.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. |Actual End| ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

"How was this an attempt at flirting!?" What...you don't think complimenting the love of your life's cooking is flirting...!? 🙄😒 it's not my fault Gokudera is a wimp and struggles to do this much. Anyway this was fun! Hope you enjoyed it. 🫶🏾💗💗💗

[therealslimshakespeare]

for the guys like gale… who’ve never had a sibling? brady has a sister to protect, bucky has sisters… but for gale? 🥹🥹 he loves ida but smith is something to protect 💔💔

Babe this is so beautifully put. The sibling aspect?! Oh my hearttttt. I do have a very crushing little storyline about all this. Cleven and what he’d do for Smith and the rest. But Smith is the one endangered -nothing like a little eugenics side plot in a nazi camp

Those Who Can Sneak Peak:

(18+ for thematic and disturbing material, medical horror I guess? racism?? universe warnings apply)

Something in his Major’s face showed a meekness that was as horrifying to Brady as it was pleasing to the doctor.

“You see this,” the doctor was eager to go on, lifting the dreaded folder and beginning to theatrically bury it beneath other papers, “this can stay here, if I am otherwise occupied. If more pressing matters require my skill. You have a woman with you of ethnic race, bronze, black hair -I can overlook her for these orders, on a few conditions.”

Brady could tell Cleven was hard at thought by the frantic twitch in his jaw, even as his eyes stayed mild and his mouth soft, he seemed to be trying to find that riddle answer. Brady felt sorry for him. There never was one in this place.

“You play many games to pass the time, you and your men, yes?” The doctor spoke again, having spent the past few deadly silent moments enjoying Cleven’s futile calculations, “I want you to play a game with me. I will not monopolize your time. But things must be fair, I cannot endlessly provide my expertise with no recompense, you cannot go on in your current state. The body flags, does it not? You have felt what I can do for you. That was just a taste.”

Gale Cleven didn’t think he was likely to forget those Adrenalin shots anytime soon, or their symptoms of panicked sweating and tight chested jitters worse than any flak shakes, the utter inability to sleep. Or its side effect of thudding blood in his temples and his armpits. And in his groin. The way Brady’s arms had been littered with the puncture wounds long before his first.

Maureen hadn’t been pleased for once to find him stiff, she’d said she knew of those kind of stimulants and they could kill a man by stopping his heart, said he should never take them just to please her. He’d had to tell her then it wasn’t to please her: that he’d had no choice in it, and that distressed her in turn.

Maureen was very far away from this hut and its gargoyle of an overlord and she needed to stay that way. Smith, he felt, was closer by the specter of her physical description.

“Games?” Cleven repeated and he felt rather than allowed his own mouth to smile, likely a wide and disbelieving thing because his heart might not accept the obvious here but his mind knew exactly what sort of games these would be. “We sure do.” he balled his fists on his arm chair to keep away the impulse to tap, “But I think you’ll find some of us -what did you call it? Allowing? I’d raise you; experienced. At these games.”

The doctor looked puzzled for once and on his own part Brady was sure he looked idiotically confused, although he felt the aura of Cleven’s meticulous precision in the air, some miasma of intent and calculation that made him snap to it and try to play along. Cleven’s smarts and intents were like that, tangible as a pet monkey on his shoulder but every bit as impossible to intelligently converse with.

“Sir,” Cleven leaned forward in his seat with that disarming cordiality that Brady had only ever seen him use on women or new recruits, “you and I know this game, s’why invite amateurs?” his meaning hung thin and obscure for a brief moment before he sucked in a breath and added his addendum, Brady should have seen it coming, “I can make it worth your while, a-and uh, and I am the one in need of treatment, like you said. Three's a crowd, sir. Send him out,” he didn’t even glance at the boy he was trying to save, just a callous jerk of the head to indicate his subject, “and we’ll play this, you and I -man to man.”

[matthyeu]

perfect boy ― zh.

pairing ⇢ zhang hao x ftm!reader 

genre ⇢ hurt/comfort

warnings ⇢ gender dysphoria

word count ⇢ 792

synopsis ⇢ you can always count on zhang hao to cease your worries about your gender.

hao was not expecting silence upon entering the apartment. usually you were ready to greet him every time he came home from a long day of work. it was unusual for it to be as quiet as it was. if not waiting for him, he would expect you to be immersed in your latest tv show obsession. 

however, it wasn’t completely silent. once he stopped his steps, he could hear some faint sounds coming from inside your shared room. he furrowed his eyebrows, walking towards the door to find out what it was. 

his face shifted immediately from a confused expression to a worried one when he realized this wasn’t any sound. it was you crying. 

without any further hesitation, he pushed open the door to reveal you face down on the bed. the way you held the pillow over your ears probably muffled everything, so you might have not known he had come home. you were like that, always tuning out the outside world in times of despair so you could listen to yourself. whatever happened must have been serious. 

he carefully sat on the bed, the sudden dip pulling you out of your session. you whipped your head around, meeting eyes with your boyfriend. “ah, when did you come home?” you asked, voice breaking halfway through. 

“shhhh it’s okay i just came home. don’t worry about it,” he whispered, trying to keep the calm mood up for you, “what happened?” 

you looked hesitant to tell him, but he would never force it out of you. he wanted you to always be comfortable with him, so he made sure to respect your boundaries. he didn’t expect you to tell him, not to mention what you told him. 

“do i really look like a girl?” 

“huh?” 

immediately, you started breaking down again, forcing your head back into the covers. it seemed his answer, well lack thereof, triggered it again. regret came over him. it just caught him by surprise, so it wasn’t his intention to not deny your worries. 

panicked, he placed a hand on your back, trying to console you as much as he could with his touch. you wouldn’t hear him if he started now. he had to wait until you stopped your session again to say anything. 

luckily, it worked, the feeling of his thumb rubbing circles on your back always seemed to bring you some sort of solace. you took a deep breath, trying to suck in all the tears you could. 

“i’m sorry–” he cut you off right there. 

“don’t be sorry dear, i’m sorry for not being able to respond to your worries right away. i was just caught by surprise because in no universe would you look like a girl. you are the most handsome boy i’ve ever seen.” 

“are you sure?” 

“positive.” 

“but…” oh here was where he’d get the story of who made his love cry. “it’s just. i felt so comfortable today. i picked out such a great outfit. i looked in the mirror, and for once, i actually felt so comfortable. i looked, and there really was a boy there.” 

“there’s always a boy there,” he corrected, not wanting you to try to downgrade your own gender identity. 

you rolled his eyes at his interruption but felt very happy he did intervene on that day. it made you smile a bit before continuing your story. 

“besides the point. i went to the café, and after taking my order, he said ‘have a nice day ma’am.’ just…what part of me looks like a ma’am? i thought i looked so masc today, but that made it all crash down. i couldn’t even say anything.” 

“well that person’s just stupid,” hao finally responded, not letting you continue. he didn’t want you to relive that experience because it was utter bullshit. 

“you think?” 

“dearest, you are my wonderful boyfriend, the only boy i could ever have eyes for. you do not look the slightest like a girl. i can’t believe people are that blind. maybe they just need extra thick glasses to see past the transphobia. they don’t know anything. please don’t listen to them. you are so much more than what they have to say.” 

when you broke down again, crying into his shoulder, another wave of panic washed over him. had he said something wrong? 

“dear, are you okay? did i say something wrong?” he quickly asked. 

you shook your head quickly before throwing your arms around his neck. “you are just so perfect, the perfect boy. i can’t believe i have someone like you.” 

he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull yourself close to him. “no, you are the perfect boy, and i don’t want anyone telling you otherwise.”

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [What If We Rewrite the Stars?]

For Day 4 of Carry on Countdown 23, Stars.

On proposals.

Rated M for Baz and Simon getting (un)surprisingly frisky.

⋆｡˚

If Basilton ever proposed to anyone– not that he had anyone in mind, and certainly not his roommate who wanted very much to defang him and who Basilton certainly did not want to snog– he already had his plan laid out. Mage weddings were notoriously elaborate and romantic, as anyone with their thumb to the page of Mage Histories would have been well aware, so of course Basilton, best mage in his class, would already have his plan. Not only did he have the general populace of magekind to contest with, but also his very own mother.

Everyone bloody well knew she’d hung the moon for his father. Basilton couldn’t hide the scowl the thought of his father brought him, shaking his head to clear his mind of it. He refocused himself back to the empty field before him and then up to the clear sky above.

If his mother had hung the moon, he could bloody well rewrite the stars.

It’s in the theory of it, not the literalness of the thing. He wasn’t trying to throw the entire universe out of sorts or ruin planetary alignments. What Basilton was going for was a simpler thing, the illusion of rearranging them. He wasn’t entirely sure into what yet, at least not for the proposal, he knew that should be more personal, but for this practice bout, he has an idea.

He’d already tried a number of quotes from the classics, “I defy you, stars”, “there was a star danced”, “the stars are painted”, and that was only a small sampling of the Shakespeare he’d performed for the empty field and night sky, but nothing had taken yet. He’d tried any number of classics, a good few popular modern publications, several different poems, and just about any song that had broached the top one hundred in the past decade that also made mention of the barest, but nothing had taken yet.

Today, Baz is trying something a little off the cuff. Not exactly about the stars directly, but maybe something that could cause that illusion. ‘You would not believe your eyes–’ his wand flourishing elegantly out and up towards the starts, but as soon as the phrase leaves his lips, the field floods with fireflies. Fireflies. Which were not stars. He supposed at least something had happened, but the phrases were too tied together, either as some sort of ubiquitous social thought or a pervasive tie within his own mind.

Baz lets out a sigh and sits himself back down in the grass, hand resting palm up on his knee, facing the swarm of lightning bugs in front of him, staring off into utter nothingness. A firefly lands on his palm, it’s little legs tickling at sensitive skin.

So they were real.

Basilton was probably going to get in trouble for this.

⋆｡˚

The moment Baz knows he’s going to ask Simon Snow to marry him is the same moment they’d banished the room to a swirling galaxy all around them. He’s awestruck, confused, alight with affection for the soft contact between their hands, even amid all the violent, frustrated thoughts flying about his head in a haphazard flurry.

He knows he shouldn’t think such ridiculous things about Simon Snow. It’s not like he’s ever going to confess to him, let alone ask Snow to marry him, but Crowley, something about the stars pulled down into their room is doing something to him. It’s not the feeling of fire in his veins, nor the crackling electricity on his skin, nor even the ridiculous alluring way Simon looks all open and vulnerable like this, but the whole situation.

Of course it was ‘Twinkle, twinkle little star!’ he’d spoken the magick into. He knows it’s not a spell, he’d tried it a dozen and a half times before this in a dozen and a half different ways and come to nothing for it. But this time, burned clean with Simon’s magickal fire at his fingertips…

This is as close as he’s gotten to success, it’s more magnificent than he could have possibly envisioned in all his years as a mageling up to this. It would probably be better than he could ever hope to deliver too, but that doesn’t matter to Baz in the moment. All he can think is there’s no one else he’d rather share a sight like this with than Simon Snow.

Merlin and Morgana’s sake, he’s a bloody lovestruck nitwit and Baz has never been more certain of anything before. He’s going to ask this ninny to marry him one day, if they both survive the year.

⋆｡˚

It happens two years after their graduation. Simon and he both are on break from classes and Baz’s father and stepmum have flown the girls to the states for their own hols away from home. Oh sure, Baz and Simon could’ve joined, but an extended stay with his dad sounds like hell to Baz, so Baz and Simon decide to take their holiday in Ireland. Well, rather Baz decides and Simon can’t deny it’d be nice for a change of scenery. Okay, so the weather wouldn’t be much different from London, but he’d never been before, and Baz excited always makes for a good time.

Apparently, the mages in Ireland are absolutely insane, in that their spells are like nothing anywhere else in the world, old magicks still running wild throughout the lands, but also in that they also throw a damn good holiday party. Baz has never been one to avoid an excuse to show up and show off, especially now that he’s got such a divine dancing partner. Simon makes excuses, says he doesn’t know the steps, he’s got two left feet, he’ll trip them both up, but he lets Baz drag him around from place to place anyway.

He doesn’t like to be in the spotlight anymore, Baz knows, not on his own. But Baz also knows when he’s holding Simon’s waist and leading him in their dances, in their lives, the world falls away from both of them, leaving everything but the music and their footsteps behind.

It’s an impulse, a moment of downtime between the parties and the socializing and sightseeing, a moment where Basilton doesn’t have anything planned in his neatly penned itinerary, and Simon sights a theatre across the way from their cafe where Baz had been enjoying coffee and cake.

“Let’s see a movie,” Simon hums between sips of his thick cocoa, eyeing the titles in the display across the way.

Baz hums his own acknowledgment, watching Simon more than anything else around them, nodding before Simon even decides on a feature for them. “Why not? We can have an easy night tonight too, take the night off dancing and stay in our room, enjoy some whiskey in our bed, kick our feet up.”

Simon’s eyes are already twinkling, his feet tapping under the table excitedly, and Baz knows he’s made the right decision immediately.

It’s a musical they agree on, something loud and high energy, in contrast to Baz’s idea of a lazy evening, but Baz can never say no to a musical, and Simon doesn’t really care one way or another whatever they watch. So it’s a musical they’re watching.

It happens not too long after the hour point in the movie. The song starts playing. Not just any song, but The Song. Baz hears it and he knows this is going to be the song that changes everything about his proposal, that it’s going to be powerful enough, popular enough, to sink into every blade of grass and tree and rock and, oh this song is going to be good magick. There’s not a doubt in his mind.

His fingers are already twitching to find his wand and try it, iching to see if he could get it right the first try, to see if the magick’s already powerful enough for it. Simon must sense his insane spike in energy though, because his hand snakes out to grasp Baz’s and twine their fingers together, squeezing over his digits and bringing him back from the machinations of magick for the rest of the movie.

Simon listens through all Baz’s technical ramblings on the music, the inspirations the writer’s must’ve taken, the absolute chops on one singer in particular, the confusing choices made about the one singer who had supposedly been an operatic. Simon listens patiently through it all until warm whiskey settles Baz’s anxious energy and the movie’s finally forgotten between their lips.

“You’re terribly adorable when you get like this, you know, Pitch?” Simon asks before stealing a soft, slow kiss, his warm hands cupping Baz’s cool cheeks to keep them close together. Simon presses Baz’s back down to the mattress and climbs atop him, knees braced at Baz’s waist, straddling him slow, kisses trailing tender along Baz’s jaw and cheeks until Baz is humming low for him.

Baz’s hands wander up Simon’s bare back, following the notches of his spine tenderly, mapping his back all the way up to his wings, even though Baz knows these plains of Simon better than he knows his own hands. “Oh, shut up, Snow,” Baz groans, voice heated between shared kisses, lips wet with their want, “You’re just as bad going on about any and every new pastry we try.”

“I am,” Simon doesn’t even bother to deny it, kisses wandering over Baz’s neck, marking him with soft love bites, sucking the skin underneath dark with his affections, “But there’s better things to think about right now, aren’t there?”

Baz’s fingers crawl up Simon’s wings, dragging soft over their leather, lips quirking into a frown. Simon wasn’t wrong, he supposed, but he wasn’t going to just say it outright. “Why don’t you tell me what you’d like me focusing on, love, and we’ll go from there…”

Simon kisses a soft trail down Baz’s chest, unbuttoning his perfectly pressed shirt as he goes, “You know what I want, Baz.”

One of Baz’s hands slides off Simon’s wings to grip over Simon’s ass, gripping tight and forcing them to grind together, pulling a sharp gasp from Simon above him, the nails remaining edging just on this side of sharp against sensitive joints. “Words, love. I won’t ask nicely again.”

“You,” Simon rasps into his chest, nosing over the soft hair there, “Just you.”

Baz’s tongue darts out to wet his own lips, grinding them together again before that same hand slips to wrap Simon’s tail about his wrist, tugging it sharp in the moments following. “Needy thing,” Baz murmurs back, but he doesn’t argue against it. Baz’s always been terribly bad at denying Simon when he was honest with him, “I’ll give you what you want, love of mine, all you want and more…”

The moments melt into hours like that, between heated kisses and soft marks burned into skin, hands tugging in hair, gasps and moans lost to the air between them. Naught between their skin but Simon’s whispered worship and Baz’s quiet praise, pressing closer and closer into each other until nothing remained but each other. 

Still, it keeps playing in Baz’s head the next morning, that week, through their anniversary and the rest of the month too. “Rewrite the Stars,” the song rang in his mind, and Baz knew that was exactly what he intended to do, what he’d always intended to do.

[madhogthymaster]

I Played Every BioShock Game in One Month, And I Must Scream!

On January 2nd 2023, I made the sporadic, partially ill-begotten decision to buy all three BioShock videogames. Up to that point, I had never experienced these titles directly save only through cultural osmosis, the occasional meme and, naturally, The Discourse! I would spend the following lunar cycle playing them, writing down my thoughts and posting them on Twitter dot com. Today, after enough time passed for my heightened feelings to reset, I have collected those floating brain bubbles and transliterated them into some manner of structured essay for your reading pleasure - or utter lack thereof. Did I have anything meaningful to add to the conversation on one of the most dissected and dissertated franchises in the history of the art form? You may be the judge of that. It begins.

-

Part One: Atlas Drowned

BioShock. The first BioShock. BioShock the First. "Spiritual" successor to System Shock 2, Bioshock. Yes, that BioShock. This is most certainly not a title that requires any sort of elaborate introduction. Since 2007, there have been many videos, articles, essays, podcasts, and everything in-between, dedicated to its analysis. For better and (decisively) for worse, the concept of Videogame Discourse was birthed from the metaphorical wreckage of this opus smashing itself onto the collective consciousness. I may be indulging in prosaic hyperbole here but the point still stands: it was, and still is, a big deal. You have probably heard it all before: the game is about the Folly of "Free-Market" Capitalism as it drives Society to ruin, the inadequacy of the wealthy to lead, a satirical takedown of Ayn Rand's Objectivism as it unceremoniously flops when confronted with the reality of basic human nature and needs. It's about America, in other words. It gleefully revels in its political stance with the subtlety of a clown-faced vending machine yelling: "Welcome to the Circus of Value!" It might as well be using a copy of Atlas Shrugged to wipe its anus, at this point. That is all to say, first impressions were quite positive and I was enjoying it a lot.

The underwater city of Rapture is a poignantly depressing location: everything from its very name to its opulent Art Deco architecture screams of egomaniacal pretention. It is a monument to its founder's hubris turned into a decadent, decaying tomb for his ambition. It perfectly conveys all you need to know about Andrew Ryan, the founder of Rapture and initial antagonist. He is a rich twat who hated having to pay taxes so he created his own version of a Libertarian Blockchain disguised as a country where there would be "No Gods or Kings. Only Man." He then proceeded to make himself the god-king of his utopia; it crashed and burned along with everyone in it. "Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?" he said, indeed.

Rapture is a wonderfully designed world, in that sense. The only elements that clash with the contextual aesthetic would be the aforementioned "Circus of Value" marketplaces. Let me explain. Andrew Ryan, like all demagogues, takes himself super seriously. His entire platform was built on the premise that he's a charismatic genius and everything he says is Gospel. His whole civilization was constructed on the terrible ideas he convinced both himself and many others were actually good. Seriousness, self-importance and overcompensated grandiosity were the building blocks of Rapture, the roots of its aesthetic, the basis by which this society could function - until it wouldn't anymore. As such, the presence of those vending machines, openly mocking the very foundation of Uncle Andy's Ryanworld, feel out of place within the narrative and universe at hand. They have been clearly put there so that the developers could do a little meta-humour, a wink and a nudge at the player, to redundantly point out how absurd it all was. They must have been worried the game was too subtle and some players would not get it... Anyway, this was but a minor complaint. By all means, take it with a grain of salt. Now, I have some legitimate criticism to bring forth.

Whilst a lot of the conversation has been directed at Brow Sweat Man, his God complex, his insane ambition, his "Chain of Industries" ideology and "Laissez-Faire" economics, not nearly enough analysis was ever dedicated to the other major antagonist of the game, and I can definitely gather why. I will now openly address spoilers for the latter half of the story by discussing the character of Frank Fontaine (aka ATLAS), the de-facto main villain of the piece.

Fontaine is a grifter who played a long con at the expense of the "Kingdom of Reason." He started a smuggling ring that introduced gun violence and religious bigotry to the city, used the malcontent of the exploited working class to start a bloody rebellion, manipulated and killed people behind the scene through various aliases. His corporation is the one responsible for mass producing all the Big Daddies and Little Sisters, the iconic "monsters" of the series running around town. They are a product of Eugenics science based off Nazi Germany's human experiments. I should stress that Ryan approved all this as the city needed exploitable labour in order to run. The reason behind Frank's actions is simple: money, profit, cold hard cash. Andrew Ryan was a wealthy fool hooked on his delusional Capitalist drivel, his "daring vision" for the future of mankind, Fontaine was the reality check. The thematic exclamation point to the game's entire thesis, the depressing yet irrefutable truth behind all the cruelty and horrors caused in the name of IDEAS is good old fashioned Greed. Someone in a position of power will always be there to make a buck out of human suffering.

To be perfectly honest, I find this throughline rather pedestrian. It is the truth of Capitalism, yes, but it is such an obvious statement delivered with such un-earned gusto that it makes the entire game less interesting as a result. Here we have a compellingly detestable villain in Uncle Andy, the "good guy" of his story, a living byproduct of American Exceptionalism, Ayn Rand's poster boy, a poignant satire of the current socioeconomic establishment, being replaced by a basic money-grabbing baddie. What made Ryan so effective is how real he felt: he represented the warped worldview of the out-of-touch, obscenely rich class that rules the planet and that's going to eventually lead us to our demise - much like in Rapture itself. Fontaine, by contrast, is a mustache-twirling cartoon. He acts and talks like a typical videogame villain who doesn't have anything meaningful to say to you other than how smart he is, how he loves money and how he's totally going to get away with it (insert evil laugh here) while sporting the worst accent I have ever heard in my life. His point as a character is moot and the writing is messier as a result. Still, BioShock is a good game, perhaps not as masterfully crafted as many believed it to be, but rather innovative for the time. There is a clever (for 2007) twist right before Fontaine takes over as the final boss in which it is revealed the player's character was being mind controlled the whole time. It's a cute meta-commentary on the unique nature of our interaction with videogames.

Had I played BioShock when it first came out, I would have probably placed it atop a golden pedestal, sung its praises as the best written story in the history of the medium and angrily rejected any criticism towards it in the most obnoxious way imaginable... I think I was trying to make a point but my brain gave up half way through the tangent. As such, I shall conclude this tirade by saying I enjoyed playing this classic title but I have no interest in going through it a second time. Is that fair? Yes, it is.

-

Part Two: Tetsuo The Drill Man

I moved on to Bioshock 2: The BioShockening, a game that didn't need to exist, in many ways. On one hand, it drags the theming of the first game to unnecessary levels of dilution as its message had already been abundantly delivered. On the other hand, you play as a Big Daddy with a Big Drill. There is a new ruler in Rapture, her name is Dr. Sofia Lamb. She took over after the fall of Andrew Ryan's "Individualist Utopia" by indoctrinating its inhabitants into a cult that's equal parts Early Christian commune and Eugenics with an extra dose of fanaticism. Much like with Frank Fontaine, we have a case study as to how an unregulated, isolationist, capitalist state lays the foundations for stochastic terrorism and sociopathic grift - just in case it wasn't already obvious that Rapture is supposed to represent America. I say that but, to be brutally honest, Dr. Lamb's politics or set of beliefs are as undercooked and generically laid out as they can get. I had to interpret and extrapolate what her deal was through context clues more than anything else. It wouldn't surprise me if the game's intent was to comment on Communism instead of everything else I pointed out, which would somewhat invalidate its previous stance on Capitalism and would further bring into question the overall political stance behind the BioShock series... but let us put a pin on that thought, for now.

As far as the gameplay is concerned, I believe this is a slightly better, more refined, more challenging loop than its previous iteration. These titles are both solid First-Person Shooters with light RPG elements but the second one improves upon its many shortcomings. The ability to hold both weapons and "magical gene powers" at the same time is such a simple yet elegant mechanic that it (bio)shocks me it wasn't implemented earlier. The hacking mini-games have been simplified to the point of fruitlessness - and I'm fine with that. The big change comes with the Big Daddy himself and his huge, oversized, dominating drill that penetrates all its victims at full force, making them scream. It singlehandedly redeems melee attack as a worthwhile feature. Did I mention it's a huge drill?

Beyond that, there isn't much to add to The Discourse. To reiterate, BioShock 2 is a thoroughly pointless sequel and it barely qualifies as one. It's a glorified expansion pack that adds nothing of substance to the narrative, lazily resting on the laurels planted by its predecessor. It's a more polished and fun title to play, undoubtedly, but it's otherwise easy to see why it is considered the forgettable middle child stuck between an era-defining first outing and whatever Infinite turned out to be. Speaking of which, it's time to get into that one.

-

Part Three: Infinite Mysery

WARNING: the following few paragraphs represent my initial impressions on the game, left mostly unaltered as I experienced it for the first time back in January 2023.

So, Infinite, BioShock numero tres but technically a prequel set in 1912, the flying city of Columbia, and all of that. All I knew about this game beforehand was that its engine was used to revolutionize 3D pornography for years to come... Do not ask how or why I know that.

Our "Andrew Ryan" for this episode is played by Father Comstock (oh, brother), an evangelical, white supremacist prophet who gathered his "flock" to live in a conferedate utopia closer to the "Kingdom of Heaven" and far above the "Sodom Below." I used to think the first game was unsubtle and heavy-handed with its commentary, impassioned in its righteous indignation if a bit simplistic by the end, but this game takes that sharp edge and slashes the US flag with it, literally!

This game appears to have things to say about American myth-making, the religious zealotry fueling the glorification (and alteration) of history as a means for Power, The White Man's Burden and the dangerously real threat of Christian Nationalism. It seems to condemn it all with the fervor that bespeaks decapitating a cop with a portable blender - which Infinite is all too eager to provide. What makes the experience truly effective is the setting itself: a far cry from the claustrophobic doom of Rapture. The misery of that place served as a remainder that Capitalism is unsustainable and leads society to ruin. That's an obvious statement by this point and, as such, it left me lukewarm on the experience. All it did was reinforcing my beliefs. Columbia, however, is a different beast. It is not the sunken tombstone to the hubris of a rich fool, it is the realm of the "Chosen Race" thriving under the watchful gaze of the deified Founding Fathers. It's a thriving, gorgeous vision right out of Jules Verne's mind, and it runs on the back of slaves.

That's what makes it truly horrifying and infuriating. The fact that it works, that its ruler managed to build a community for "good white Christians" thanks to the power of religious indoctrination and the exploited labour of the "lower races" that keeps it afloat. It is unsettling, bone-rattling, how inviting the city looks at a first glance, its Victorian architecture bathing in the sun as a barber shop quartet entertains curious onlookers. It's a grotesque dream of Dixieland as filtered through Gone with the Wind lenses.

As such, getting to disrupt the perfect little order of this bigoted, racist 19th century style town through acts of wanton violence is INFINITEly more cathartic than killing random junkies in an already disrupted, dead society. Sticking it to an unjust hierarchy by murdering cops and destroying property elevates the enjoyment of playing this title tenfold. It's exactly what was missing from my ideal BioShock experience. It's simply more compelling to defeat that which is yet to be even challenged. Another major element in the game's favour is a main character with actual agency, as opposed to a silent protagonist whose whole deal was his tragic lack of agency. It's much easier to be invested in the narrative when my guy has a literal say in the matter.

I sure hope the game does not somehow ruin everything in the second half. That would be so disappointing...

WARNING: the following are my real, unfiltered opinions on BioShock Infinite.

Do you know what is the most egregious, baffling, aggravating turn a narrative like this could have made after all it's done, after putting out such an inflammatory takedown of the American conservative institutions? Why, Bothsidesing, of course! According to this game's oh so wise writing, when those rebelling against their literal slavers do it by employing Direct Action instead of "the right, non-violent way" then they're just as bad as them. That is how Infinite chooses to frame the Anarcho-Socialist revolution of one Daisy Fitzroy (the only named black character) as she's compared to Father Comstock (the racist theocrat) with the all too familiar adagio of "Both sides are in the wrong." I am seething with rage.

This game went out of its way to pontificate against America's history of bigotry and racism up to including actual horrendous ethnic caricatures to drive its point home. Then it cowardly decided to throw it all away by taking the "Enlightened Centrist" stance. Essentially, the people in charge of the project have demonstrated to me their unwillingness to commit to a difficult subject as soon as it came to addressing the Real American history, opting thusly to an implicit endorsement of the Neoliberal Status Quo. The message now reads: "Slavery was bad but the slaves should not rebel against it! They should debate the slavers in the Market Place of Ideas!" You could take such a blanket statement and apply it to every sociopolitical scenario where there is a clear Oppressor with a clear Oppressed and expect it to be uttered by those who benefit from the Oppression.

I understand this title is more than a decade old but I will unendingly rag on the plate of unfulfilled potential due to cop-out writing. In fact, this whole situation has forced me to reevaluate my thoughts on the first title, as well! All of a sudden, the dichotomy between Andrew Ryan and Frank Fountain (the latter pretending to be on the side of the working class with a "clever" pseudonym) starts to feel like a less immediately obvious form of political bothsidesing. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that the game was cherry-picking its themes as if they were somehow divorced from the larger critique on the Establishment. Implying, in other words, that concepts like the "The Invisible Hand", Objectivism and Manifest Destiny could be extricated from the very fabric of American Society when the inconvenient truth is that they are as much a part of it as Racism, Slavery and Genocide. I am not necessarily changing my opinion on that first iteration, mind you, but I do find myself dubious over my initial read given how the series ultimately panned out, with all the poise of a bald eagle covered in blood-soaked feces! It has just occurred to me, as I was writing this down, that Infinite is basically a remake of the first BioShock but dumber in every conceivable way. More over, BioShock 2's main antagonist, Sofia Lamb, was presented as the total opposite to Andrew Ryan (but just as bad) which reinforces the aforementioned Centrist stance the series now appears to champion while serving as a prelude to what would become the profoundly stupid thesis of the third one! It is astounding just how bad Infinite is turning out to be: horrible in a manner that makes me retroactively question my own ability to understand media literacy. This, dear readers, would be the time when I start screaming.

That said, it's not even the worst part. No, the most offensive aspect about any of this is that None of it actually matters, by the end.

WARNING: That Ending.

It turns out Father Comstock and your main character are the same person but from a different timeline when an Important Choice was made because of Guilt which led to becoming a Reborn Christian and the foundation of Columbia. You had a daughter which was taken from you by your evil doppelganger from another dimension and you were left trapped in a pocket world of some kind and then the rest of the game happens. Something, something, Regret. Something, something, commentary on Player Agency. Something, something, you must stop existing in the past in order to erase all the bad timelines, Sonic '06 style. By the way, there are timey-wimey bollocks, in case it wasn't clear. This is garbage and I do not care for it.

To see what this game was actually about, all along, further undermines whatever "political position" was presented to me throughout the diegesis. Depictions of oppression, racism and human suffering very much rooted in actual history were used as a mere thematic red herring. Meaning that there never was any real commentary, it was a "distraction" from the true narrative. Let this thought consume you for a spell. The game will have you slaughter fascist cops as well as recently liberated black men in the same gruesome, sadistic fashion while framing both groups as "equally bad", only to then pull the rug from under you and tell you it was all window dressing for the Real Story, which was about our (white) protagonist being tormented by his bad life decisions. I am beyond done.

The best I can say about the third and final chapter of the thoroughly tainted BioShock saga is that its contentious presence can be applied to a broader discussion about the nature of Art, namely if or when certain lines should be crossed, for what purpose should they be crossed and, especially, by whom. Infinite was built on the foundation of bad ideas and irredeemable execution. It presented a vapid vision of political radicalism from the obvious perspective of White Privilege and managed, bewilderingly, to not have anything to say about said politics, at all! It's the kind of idiocy that should have been nipped at the bud before wreaking untold damage - much like the main character himself. Nevertheless, it is a real piece of media that exists, a piece of gaming history and, like all history, we can learn something from it... Never Again! That would be the lesson to learn here.

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Part 4: Something, Something, A Conclusion

As I am about to put this series inside the proverbial Tomb of Amontillado, I suppose this would be the right time to enlist my many gameplay pet peeves, my general pedantries, starting with the hacking mini-games: annoying in the first game, pointless in the second. In general, dealing with turrets, cameras and security robots was an unpleasant experience throughout the trilogy.

In the first two entries, some wise guy had the "great idea" of mapping the jump input to the upper button of the controller. I positively loathed that. They finally fixed it in the third game, just in time for it to stain the bed with several more horrible decisions! Why can't I hold more than two weapons at once in my inventory? That is such a backward step compared to the rest of the series!

Infinite must have also been one of the first AAA games to implement the hideous, horrendous, hackneyed sprint feature that would have you press on the left analog stick while the character is moving. Why was this ever considered an acceptable design choice?

I guess there were a few DLC. They sure exist.

... And with that underwhelming post scriptum, I shall now set my sights elsewhere - away from "Great Chains" and "Kingdoms of Heaven." New games await but we will always have the memories.

The memories of the giant drill, specifically.

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BioShock and BioShock: Infinite were developed by Irrational Games. BioShock 2 was developed by 2K Marin.

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