#friend's writing<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[criiitter]

how did sonic even get him to take that?

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[magicicephoenix]

i finally finished reading I see you, Sundrop! by @shirajellyfish and IT'S SO GOOD I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO FINISH IT RAAAAAAA

i will be gushing about it in the tags but here's a lil animation i made based on the below paragraph in chapter 6 that gave me such a strong mental image that i had to make it real :)

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Hedghodg Snugglz

[lightseoul]

a/n. once again, i have been inspired by a random instagram reel. i didn't even watch it, really—i just saw the keyword and was immediately spurred into writing this. enjoy <3 (0.9k)

you feel his gaze on you before you even think of meeting it.

“what,” you state more than ask when he doesn’t let up after a minute, not bothering to look up from the book you’re reading.

a scoff resounds from his direction. then: “too lazy to even move your shitty eyes?”

“don’t have to,” you retort as you finally close the paperback, shifting in your bed to regard him. “you’re boring holes into my face with all that staring.”

from where he’s seated at your dining table, bakugou grumbles, although he doesn’t deny the allegations. your face softens when you realize belatedly that he’s being awfully quiet—a jarring juxtaposition to his usual brashness.

something’s up.

but you know better than to pry it from him.

you mentally sigh. the roundabout way it is.

“what, am i extra pretty today?” you joke out of your ass, and that catches him off guard because he chokes on his own spit. that wasn’t part of the plan but you can’t help it—you laugh as he coughs his lungs out, somehow managing to throw in a curse or two in between rasps.

“shitty fucking—” he hacks some more, and when he finally recovers: “i don’t know why i fucking put up with you.”

you shrug, not at all hurt by the otherwise scathing statement. he’s said that to you too many times to count and yet, he’s still here. hanging out with you in your apartment on a friday night, no less.

you don’t point out any of that, though, confident that said knowledge is true enough for the both of you to leave it unspoken. so instead, you continue down the jesting route. “you wouldn’t know how to talk to girls without me, that’s why.”

“fuck off,” he tosses without missing a beat. “i can get the fuck by without your shitty ass guidance.”

that makes you grin, because no, he definitely can’t. how can he when he refuses to do the very first step? as in, choose a girl to talk to?

you know, someone who isn’t you.

his reluctant (best) friend.

and as if he read your mind, he shoots you a pointed look. “and i told you,” he hisses, “you use up all my fuckin’ tolerance. can’t have another girl around because you drive me crazy enough.”

“thanks, kats. i love you, too.”

“whatever,” he answers petulantly as he looks away, although you catch wind of the faint tinge of pink spreading across his cheeks like it always does when you shower him with affection—to his chagrin.

“so…” you start when neither of you says anything for a moment, “am i extra pretty today? or do you wanna share, i don’t know, something.”

“if i spit it out, will you fucking stop badgering me about how you look? you haven’t even showered today, for fuck’s sake.”

a pillow is flung across the room before you can think against it.

“wha—” he gets out instinctively before dodging it with ease. you roll your eyes as he flashes you a victorious smirk. of course. of all the jobs he could have in the world, he had to be a pro-hero and have the signature pro-hero reflexes.

his countenance then morphs as he stares at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, and you have to bite back the fuck you that’s dangling at the tip of your tongue. instead, you give him a curt nod, feigning nonchalance to further coax him into spilling whatever’s in his mind.

“go on,” you press when he doesn’t follow it up immediately after.

“i’m getting to it, alright? jesus.”

a pause.

then, another.

and when you’re finally convinced he’s just playing with you and won’t reveal whatever secret he’s got hidden behind the vault he calls his lips, he says it.

“i’m getting a vasectomy.”

you blink at him.

that was not what you were expecting.

“wh—what?”

you can only watch him in utter bewilderment as he flushes, covering up his fluster with a glare. “you heard me.”

“but, kats,” you begin, not knowing how to say the next bit, “…you’re a virgin. and you’ve never been with anyone romantically.”

the pink from earlier instantly deepens into a scarlet. “so what, hah? you’re the one to talk!”

“no, no,” you manage to respond, slowly shaking your head. you have no idea what’s happening. “that wasn’t meant to be a roast. like, at all. it’s just…why?”

bakugou doesn’t answer right away, instead choosing to press his lips into a thin line.

“you said it yourself, didn’t you?” he says after a while, voice uncharacteristically hushed, as if he doesn’t want you to hear him. you lean in ever so minutely, straining to listen from a few feet away.

“said wait?” you ask, matching the stillness of his tone.

“that birth control fucks you up.”

at that, you barely manage to school your shock into a neutral expression, although it’s definitely your heart that’s suddenly hammering wildly against your chest at his admission. you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. his gaze is dizzyingly penetrating as you struggle to get your words out, until you finally manage a warbled “y-yeah.”

he probably meant that birth control fucks you—women—up, and not you you.

yeah, that’s definitely it.

with this new strand of knowledge, you’re able to muster a genuine smile his way. “that’s very thoughtful of you, kats.”

and just because you like to be sure of things, you throw in the next thing for good measure.

“she’ll be very lucky to have you.”

silence.

“hah?!”

(the keyword was vasectomy lol) (petition for more birth control methods for men)

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra

[lorialia]

⋆ sweet temptation ⋆

pairing: best friend!han jisung x fem!reader

genre: smut, minors dni.

summary: you and your best friend accidentally devour an entire box of sex chocolates while watching a pirated version of the movie ponyo. now you're left to deal with the consequences.

a/n: this came about after i submitted a similar thirst for @daydreams-after-dark 's birthday month event . . . so if you're seeing this, hi :) thanks for the indirect motivation to start a skz blog and post this. i hope you all enjoy ♡

warnings: dom!hanji, sub fem!reader, accidental use of sex chocolates/aphrodisiacs, dry humping, unprotected sex, very messy and wet, creampie, pet names(baby), possessive language, multiple orgasms, technically there's no verbal consent but they're both enthusiastic

"This is bullshit. I swear it is."

“What do you mean?" Jisung says, staring at you accusingly from across the couch. His wispy black hair falls in front of his round glasses, and his fingers reach up to brush it away so he can give you a halfhearted glare. "I put Ponyo in B-tier. That means it's good."

Your nose crinkles in pure disgust, absolute horror at the dingy laptop placed on your best friend’s ottoman. The screen glitches every once in a while, but you see the brightly colored tierlist clear as day. There’s Ponyo—one of your favorite Studio Ghibli movies of all time, a masterpiece of visual art and fairytale storytelling—in B-tier. Middle of the road. Average.

“It deserves better than just good!” You insist, convinced that he has the worst taste on planet Earth. “C’mon. At least put it up a tier.”

“Next to My Neighbor Totoro? Fuck no.”

“Fuck you!”

“Woah woah woah, language,” Jisung replies cheekily, and you grumble, tipping back to sink your head into the cushions of your best friend’s couch. If he even is your best friend after this anyways.

You and Jisung have been hanging out at his apartment for hours, chatting about basically anything and everything. It’s an especially exciting night; his roommate is out visiting family for the weekend, meaning the two of you have the whole place to yourselves.

“Don’t make a mess,” Minho had said through the phone. “I don’t want to clean up once I get back home.”

So far, you’ve had halfhearted success in baking cinnamon rolls, little-to-no success cooking dinner, and full success in ordering barbeque chicken. The kitchen had barely survived through it all, but aside from an occasional utensil on the floor it’s pretty clean.

Aside from your cooking ventures, you two have taken it upon yourselves to rank all the Studio Ghibli movies on a tierlist. Some of his takes surprise you, maybe frustrate you— but none of them fill you with such rage as seeing Ponyo in B-Tier.

“When was the last time you watched this movie?” You ask, almost demand. Jisung pretends to think for a moment; his soft lips pursing together in contemplation.

“Uhh… when I was twelve.”

“Oh for fuck's sake,” You reach over to his laptop and grab it, typing furiously to find a pirated URL for the movie. “We’re watching Ponyo tonight. No buts.”

“Fine,” Jisung says, extending the ‘e’. Out of the corner of your eye you spot him picking up the empty plastic containers of your dinner. He pouts, lips jutting out exaggeratedly when he finds the tins utterly empty. “Aww man, no more food. I’ll go see if there’s any leftovers in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” You idly reply, too busy trying to bypass the stupid ad pop-ups on his computer. You mash a couple of buttons, open and close a few tabs, and boom, you’re in.

Meanwhile, Jisung has gone and returned from the kitchen. In his hands he holds a random box of chocolates that he tosses into your waiting hands. “Found these in the back of the pantry. Probably Minho’s.”

You open the cardboard flap and dig your hand inside, pulling out a rectangle-shaped chocolate wrapped in pretty red tinfoil. You don’t care to read the name—the room is too dimly lit to see anyway—and rip open the package, finding two square chocolates waiting for you.

“Huh,” You comment, holding up the two chocolate pieces. “I’ve never seen chocolates that come in twos before.”

A hand snatches one of the chocolates away and you turn to see Jisung chewing. His adams apple bobs as he swallows. “Mmm, cherry. You should try it.”

You glance at the singular square held between your fingertips, and shrug before popping it in your mouth.

An hour later, you and Jisung are curled up together watching Ponyo. From glances and little remarks here and there, he seems to be enjoying it, and thank god he does. You couldn’t stand seeing Ponyo be misplaced any longer.

During a particularly captivating underwater scene, you reach for the box of chocolates—only to find the insides empty. You blink for a moment, tearing your eyes away from the screen, and realize you and Jisung have eaten them all.

“Aww,” Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, but you remove yourself from the pile of blankets to toss the box in the trash. Your best friend remains engrossed in the movie, only shifting to adjust his glasses.

You think to check the brand on the box before you throw it away. It would be nice to get again, after all. The chocolates tasted pretty good—

“Jisung.”

The serious tone of your voice jerks your best friend back into reality, and he hurries to pause the movie. His gaze flickers up to yours with a slight level of concern. “What’s up?”

“These chocolates…” You audibly gulp, and your mind swims from reading the label on the box. “I don’t think these are regular ones.”

“Then what are they?” Jisung crawls over from his side of the couch and leans over your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he speaks. “Weed?”

You point to the packaging. It’s sensually decorated, with elegant lettering and a good number of red hearts littering the front. Right in the center are two words: aphrodisiac chocolate.

Jisung’s eyes bulge wide open and he blinks several times. “Sex chocolate?!”

“Yeah,” You let out a breathless, winded chuckle. Your eyes are equally as wide as his. “How many did we eat?”

Over the next minute, you and Jisung rummage around the couch and collect as many wrappers as you can. With each find, you’re more and more flabbergasted—assuming you two had an equal amount, you can say that you probably had ten to twelve chocolates…each.

“Holy shit,” is the only thing he can say for the next minute. You check the back of the box and discover more lovely news: the recommended amount is one to three squares per person.

There’s silence for the next couple of minutes after that.

The two of you must look so stupid, crouching over copious candy wrappers, dumbfounded by your dual idiocy. What the fuck were you going to do?

Jisung attempts to answer that question in breaking the silence. “So essentially…we’re gonna get super horny.”

“Yeah,” You respond, wincing. “I’m kind of trying not to think about that right now.”

“Well- I mean- You- I- ugh,” Jisung rubs his temples sorely. For once he’s completely serious, no giggles, no jokes. It concerns you as much as it frightens you. “How long until it kicks in?”

“A few hours, it says.”

“Any way to reverse the effects?”

“We already ate the chocolates, Sungie. I don’t think we can get them out.”

“Fuck,” He stares at the empty container. “What are we gonna do then?”

You open your mouth to respond and find it dry. Suddenly you’re hyperaware that in an undisclosed amount of time, both you and your best friend will be incredibly horny. In an apartment together, with no distractions. Just you and him.

You’re tempted to run for the hills. Grab your bag and race home to deal with it all on your own, rather than face this volatile situation and the can of worms that is your undeniable attraction to a man you swore never to date. It feels like the better situation for a split second; enough for you to place one foot on the ground in an effort to stand up from the couch.

Jisung’s head whips up immediately, and the panicked, almost desperate flash in his eyes freezes you in place. It’s almost a plea, a look that stirs something deep in your gut: Please. Don’t go.

You sit back down.

“So…wanna watch the rest of Ponyo?”

By the end of the movie, Jisung moves Ponyo up to A-tier. Normally you’d gloat in his face and criticize his judgmental movie taste—but you can’t seem to get the thought of the chocolates out of your head. It doesn’t help that he's uncomfortably close, his hoodie brushing up against your shoulder with every breath.

He doesn’t say anything as he shuts the laptop, doesn’t look at you as he leans back on the couch. His eyes are distant. Unfocused, dazed like you’ve only seen when he’s dead drunk.

You only need to wonder why for a moment before you notice just how burning hot you are.

Your shirt tightly sticks to you like a vice, and your head fogs like smoke filling the air. The thick pulse in your chest can’t seem to subside, and you feel your skin heat up more with every second that passes.

One sensation rushes in even stronger, an ache from your lower half. Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily, feeling for some sort of relief, any sort of relief. God, you’ve never wanted a dick more in your entire life.

And your best friend happens to be sitting right across from you with one.

Shit. No. You can’t think that way about him; you shouldn’t look. He’s your best friend—but your gaze moves on its own and hones in on the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

You glance upwards. Jisung’s cheeks are flushed. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead. He can’t seem to stop swallowing. His pretty dark eyes are not trained on yours but on the way your thighs press against each other for friction. He stares as if he’s devouring you whole.

“Jisung?” You say softly, your voice almost hoarse in your throat. There is no need to whisper. It’s just you and him, in his apartment together, alone.

“…Yeah?”

“Are you feeling it too?”

Jisung still can’t seem to look you in the eyes. He nods, slowly.

You crawl closer.

“Fuck,” He sputters out breathlessly. His hand reaches up to shakily adjust his glasses. Sweat seems to drip down the side of his face and off his chin. He wipes it away.

You inch closer, and with every shuffle you hear Jisung’s breath grow more ragged. His hands move all over himself— adjusting the gray sweatpants you want to ruin so badly, make a mess all over and cum on, brushing away the same strand of hair over and over. He still can’t seem to look at you.

Finally, you arrive right in front of him. You sit with your legs spread wide, your shorts doing little to cover up the arousal starting to drip down your thigh. Your knees, planted on the couch cushion, brush against his legs. His breath stops.

You reach up and gently grab ahold of his chin. Slowly, you turn his head so he comes face to face with your equally flushed face.

“Oh my god.”

In an instant, Jisung’s lips press against yours; he practically climbs on top of you, pinning you down into the furniture. His arms reach and wrap around whatever he can as he drinks from the taste of your lips in a dizzying rhythm. It’s insistent, messy, desperate. Your mouths move in a tangled dance, hoping each to swallow the other whole.

His fingers find the bottom hem of your shirt and hook underneath it to tug it up. You oblige and revel in each and every touch you can get.

Your shirt is shoved above your breasts, and Jisung doesn't bother to unclasp your bra—opting to move the fabric aside instead. He breaks the kiss to ogle at your bare chest. His eyes are lidded and you swear that his pupils are heart-shaped, and he sighs, almost dreamily. Like he's seen a piece of heaven.

“God, you're fucking beautiful,” He mutters from above you. “I'm sorry, I just can't....”

His words send a rush of heat straight to your core, and you whine. Next thing you know, he has his hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart so he can slot himself between them.

The friction of his pants against your clothed clit makes you keen—usually you aren't so sensitive, if not for those chocolates. Every sensation seems to be heightened.

"Sungie~" You whimper as Jisung rocks his hips against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. He leans down to capture your lips in his once more, hungry for the hints of chocolate he tastes.

Everything is sloppy and coordinated; he grinds into you like a bunny in heat, groaning at every bit of friction between his gray sweatpants and your cotton shorts. It's hot and stuffy, but you've never felt so good in your life.

"Feel so good, shit-" Jisung mumbles between messy kisses. His glasses are fogged and hanging half off his nose, but he couldn't care less. "Wanna fuck you so badly- you want that? Want me to fuck you- ah, god~ like you deserve?"

Jisung shoves his head down into your chest, burying himself between your two mounds as he presses up on you from below. He kisses your skin and moves slightly to suckle on your right nipple, making you keen. His soft boba eyes peek out to look up at you, dazed and sick with sticky desire.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, throbs under the way Jisung's clothed cock hits your clit repeatedly. You want him to fuck you so bad, need your best friend's dick to split you open.

"Fuck me please," You beg, your voice trembling and thoughts hazy with lust. You've never begged for a man before, but Jisung is simply different in every way. "Please, Jisung, Sungie, please-"

He audibly groans, as if the sound of your voice gets him any closer to heaven. He wrenches himself away from your cunt to slip down his pants just enough for his thick, veiny cock to slip out. Meanwhile, you can't resist slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, to your needy wet cunt. You rub your clit with two of your fingers, whining softly at the stimulation of your swollen bud.

Suddenly, Jisung's hands wrap around the hem of your shorts and panties—he tugs them down all at once, exposing your sobbing pussy to his greedy view. You look up and his eyes are hungry, lidded and clouded with want, zeroed in on your cunt. You think he might be drooling.

Jisung hurries to press his cock against your wetness. He's shaky, almost trembling as he guides his mushroom tip through your folds, his breath coming out in stutters.

Even with just the tip, it's big. You feel like you're split open, and every inch of his cock entering your pussy sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. It doesn't even hurt with how wet it is, and he slides in like warm butter. He practically collapses onto you as soon as he bottoms out, his head buried in your neck.

His cock twitches inside you, and you realize through the haze that Jisung isn't moving. He's whining softly, breathlessly, but his hips do little more than tremble.

"Jisung-"

"Don't," He shushes you. His voice is raspy and desperate, and he mouths at your neck between words. "I-I'm trying not to cum."

You whine, wanting any sort of friction—but Jisung doesn't budge. Then you squirm a little, just to feel it a little more, and both of you let out audible moans. He grabs your hips roughly to hold you in place.

"F-fuck-" He swears, and there's a growl in the back of his throat. "Are you trying to get me to cum inside?"

The idea of his cum filling you up sends a rush through your bones. You inadvertently clench around him, and the grip on your hips becomes so strong it might bruise.

"Y-you want it that bad? Fine then. Fucking take it."

Jisung starts a relentless pace; he groans into your neck and holds your hips down so you take every inch of him with every thrust. His tip brushes up against your cervix sweetly, and you keen, your hands tangling into his black hair.

"You're so wet baby-" He mutters, stamping in a word between rough thrusts. "So. Fucking. Tight. God, bet no one has made you feel this good, huh? Say it."

You can barely find the words, letting punched-out moans every time his cock kisses your cervix. "Y-you're the only one, Ji!"

"That's it," He says, his pace speeding up impossibly faster. He's hardly going in a pattern, just bunny fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. "This pussy belongs to me, doesn't it? All mine~"

Jisung changes his grasp; he gets a hold of your thighs and spreads them so he can fuck you deeper. It's a welcome change—and you remove one hand from his hair to clamp over your mouth, your moans becoming unabashedly noisy. Your eyes squeeze shut and roll back behind your eyelids. "O-oh Jisung, that feels good-"

"Baby, baby please, I gotta cum- gonna cum inside, want that? You want that?" He says, and his hand shakily moves to rub his palm against your clit.

You cry out, about to tip over the edge. You want it more than you've ever wanted anything in your life. "P-please!"

Jisung groans loudly, not bothering to muffle the noise as he cums inside. You cum at the same time, whimpering into his tangled-up hair. His hips stutter but they don't halt; he fucks his cum into you lazily. You whimper at the sensation of his warm cream filling your insides. It's messy and deliciously wet.

"Jisung," You mumble out, still feeling a burning ache. You're addicted to the pull of his cock inside your walls. "I- I want-"

He interrupts you with a groan; then his hips begin to pound into you once more, moaning into the skin of your neck. He simply can't stop, even when you let out a high-pitched cry.

"I'm sorry baby- just had to. Your pussy is sucking me in-" Jisung grunts. His voice is nearly drowned out by the wet squelch of every thrust into your creamy cunt. "Just one more, one more, that's it~"

You feel like you're being folded in half from the way he presses you down, your thighs moving to rest on his shoulders. He ruts into you with reckless abandon, and his hands find themselves digging into the couch on either side of your head.

Jisung lifts his head up so it's right above yours, and you see him for the first time in what feels like ages. His glasses are long gone, and his lips are slightly ajar as he groans senselessly with every thrust. The pinkness of his round cheeks and the lidded pleasure in his eyes matches yours; he leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.

You moan into his mouth sweetly, and he hums in delight. There's no rhythm to the way he kisses you and fucks you—just pleasure-driven madness, desperation to feel you in every way.

"Mine," He mumbles, almost to himself as he pounds into you desperately. "Gonna cum in you again, fill you up~ my baby, all mine-"

You clench despite the tired ache in your thighs. You want him to cum in you over and over, spill his semen and let him fuck it into you again. You want him completely, irrevocably.

It's this thought that sends you over the edge for a second time; you wail, unable to make out any words as a wave of pleasure washes over you. Jisung messily kisses you throughout, muffling the sounds that escape your lips with his own.

He thrusts a few more times, groaning senselessly into your mouth before finally cumming again. Another warm sensation floods your insides and you sigh in satisfaction.

Jisung crumples onto your body and simply lays limp on top of you. Neither of you can bring yourselves to move.

"Best sex ever." He croaks out with a hoarse voice, and you laugh tiredly.

The next morning, you wake up on the couch. Jisung is laying next to you, his body tangled with yours. He stirs as you shuffle and pull yourself up from the cushions.

"Morning," You whisper, and he responds with a soft hum. His hair is adorably chaotic and worsens as he runs a hand through it. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," He says, and sits up with a groan of pain. "God, my joints. I feel like I blew out my back."

You notice a similar soreness in your thighs, but you tease him regardless. "You old man."

"Shut up," Jisung replies with no real malice. He looks down at you with surprising affection, his boba eyes twinkling with joy. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You say, an amused breath leaving your lips.

"Nothing," He grins cheekily. "Just that I got to have sex with my best friend who I've liked for an entire year."

You blink in shock, and Jisung giggles. "What? You're surprised?"

"No, I mean- yeah," You find yourself stumbling over your words, a pink blush appearing on your cheeks. "I mean, we did fuck yesterday, I just didn't expect you to say it so...bluntly."

"Well I did," Jisung lowers his voice to a soft whisper. He leans in close so his lips nearly brush against yours. "I like you."

"I like you too," You reply bashfully, and you can't resist kissing him. It's slow and saccharine sweet, nothing like the desperate messes you were yesterday. He sighs like a love-struck teenager as you pull away.

"Minho's gonna kill us," He mumbles dreamily. You burst out laughing.

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hey hey hey may 31th anon! How's 2024 going? ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ This year I have for you a leaked Sherlock season 5 image. Thinking of you!! And everyone!!

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ DO YOU MIND? ❞

— minors dni, suguru x gn! reader (established rs), ft. satoru, voyeurism, oral [ m. receiving ], pining?, some stsg if you squint at the end :3, barely proofread 🫣

gojo tends to show up at the most inopportune moments.

…like now, when suguru is balls-deep in your mouth.

your boyfriend watches, utterly flabbergasted, as gojo settles into the other patio chair and then blinks at him with a casual, blue-eyed stare. it’s nonchalant, careless…as if this is all normal.

you begin to pull off of suguru’s length before he stops you with a steady hand on the crown of your head. your eyes widen, lashes fluttering for a quick second before a strange sense of normality washes over you, and your body relaxes. whatever gojo is up to, you’re confident suguru will handle him with ease, as per usual. after all, this wouldn’t be the first time his best friend has walked in on you two during activities like this, though he usually doesn’t take a seat with the apparent intent on staying throughout.

suguru takes a long, thoughtful drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowing. “…do you mind?”, he asks and quirks a brow.

gojo just smiles at him. “huh? oh, no, i don’t mind.”

a couple seconds pass and suguru has to wonder if he’s actually having this conversation. “are you actually insane—“

“god, what’s the big deal?” gojo groans, interrupting the once-hushed, midnight serenity in his typical, obtrusive fashion. shifts in his seat and suguru finally notices the bulge between his spread legs. his jaw just goes slack in utter disbelief.

suguru is not distracted for long. with a flick of your tongue, you bring forth a grunt from your boyfriend’s lips, back to bobbing along his length in a craving for his creamy release down your throat. suguru can’t and wouldn’t bring himself to stop you. the situation is far past strange but, if you’re determined to continue, and gojo being a fucking weirdo doesn’t bother you, then that’s fine by him.

he sighs. “whatever.”

not even a second passes before there’s a clink of metal, and suguru watches as gojo begins pulling his own cock from his pants.

“satoru, what in the f—“

“shhh.”, gojo hisses at him, and suguru raises two astonished brows. “i’m trying to enjoy the show.“

the dark-haired man is genuinely stunned into silence. it takes a moment before he catches his bearings, tossing gojo an unamused look and leaning back to rest in his own chair. “fine, whatever, just shut up while you do it.”

suguru rolls his eyes at gojo’s victorious grin, before pulling his dying cigarette back up to his lips and billowing out another cloud of smoke. whatever. with everything going on, it’s easy for him to block out any trace of gojo, anyway, and just focus on you.

a bold smell of tobacco wafts through the air, filling suguru’s nostrils as the nicotine finishes off any remnants of stress in his body. the sloppy, wet noises of spit and pre, of you eagerly sucking him down your throat. the curious feel of your hand massaging his balls while the other twists and jerks off whatever can’t fit in your mouth. yeah, it doesn’t take a single drop of effort for suguru to forget that his best friend is jerking off to the sight of you.

someone else is properly taking the time to admire every detail of the view before him. the moonlight rays gleaming off of you and his best friend, casting a gentle glow on the lewd scene. suguru’s head tossed back with locks of black framing his face, a red blush visible across his handsome features even with the limited lighting. and you, god, you. gojo eyes the hand on the back of your head, threading through your hair. suguru has a gentle grasp for the most part, sometimes shoving you down to his base, and gojo’s cock throbs longingly at the gags you let out before being released again. so cute, so pretty, doing your best to take his friend’s fat cock all the way in, only to come up a few inches short every time. it’s obviously a struggle, and yet you still try your best, so keen to swallow every inch. so eager to please.

globs of clear precum dribble out and over gojo’s tip, making for slippery strokes as he gives his bobbing cock a squeeze. though it’s hard, difficult, excruciating—especially with suguru’s own grunts and moans calling out into the night—gojo doesn’t want to risk interrupting this moment. it feels improper and rude, akin to shouting during a performance.

as he admires you both, gojo begins to feel this abrupt sense of jealousy. whether it comes from wanting to be in your place or suguru’s, he cannot decide.

💜: @anthoosies @staryukis @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @satoruxx @hellkaiserinphoenix @astral-hydromancy @bookswillfindyouaway @rosso-seta @sugurubabe @soraya-daydreams @bubblez-blop @arthurschneider @venzlenes @khaothick @haruchiy0 @sillysushi @risuola @hobarihope @crocodilethesir @starlightanyaaa @reodiaries @spicana @lovley212 @katharinasdiaryy @ninikrumbs @imaniitheoneee @luvr-exe @snackeyalleyjuice @apatauaia @trafalgarrattata @sataraxia @elleflying07 @toptierbunny @purplegemadventures @whokilledvivi @getouolgy @exinqiu @flvffybunny @leilalilox @babytoshiii @idkluvv @froggkat @princ3ss-juicy @starsharkz @zzzlevislothzzz @sugu-love @peachyaone @squishies0102 @ivy-vivii @mynahx3 @ratedrrrr @ha-zel-art @hongsxn @tryn-ity @rubyredish @higuchislut @mochi-islive @shhinigamii @insanebiitch @shinninglightning

[i-like-forcefem]

Your crush’s pool party is coming up! But darn it you don’t have any swimming trunks!

You mentioned how you don’t have anything to wear and your crush mentioned how she’s always wanted to go bikini shopping with you

Wow!!! You can get your trunks and maybe see her in her bikini ahead of time!

So she takes you to a specialised bikini store and tells you to pick out something you like!

You’re over the moon! Getting to pick something she wears! You immediately start your search!

Though way she looks is a bit unsettling, it’s not bad, more like like she’s surprised for you to be excited about this… but what boy wouldn’t be?

It’s probably nothing, back to the search: She loves cute stuff, so you do your best and search out the cutest bikini in the store!

After a lot of debating you return with a bright pink bikini full of frills, the look of delight on her face made all the hard work worth it!

“Awwwww! Did you pick that because you know how much I love cute stuff? That’s so so sweet of you! I’m sure it will look absolutely gorgeous on you!”

She grabbed my wrists and pulled me along to the changing rooms, giggling as we slipped in together and shut the door

[sweetieviktor]

jealous! viktor x reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios)

summary: viktor sees you talking with a friend and get jealous.

content warning: idk if it counts as a cw but jealousy?? also, i made with s1 viktor in mind!

author notes: heyyy, so sorry this one is little, im still trying to find motivation after the end of the series but i think it turned out cute! thank u for the request and hope u like it!! :)

» it was a common sight to see you walking up and down piltover’s academy, working or just chilling on lunch breaks, but every time viktor would approach you, you were already with someone. sometimes an unknown person, other times with a friend, laughing and joking, touching them in such a sweet way, side by side in the aisles.

» he looked at you both, blood boiling and shaky hands. if you looked at him, it was possible to see his lips forming a thin line, brows furrowing, his left eye almost twitching. oh, he was jealous.

» he felt angry at himself to feel like this, he didn't mean to be jealous at all, but he wanted to steal you away, just for a second, and be the one by your side, be the one you smiled to, the one you’ve been touching so sweetly.

» he wanted to reach for you, to interrupt your silly conversation about whatever you two have been talking about, he wanted to share his new discoveries with you, he wanted to be in their place so bad.

» but he couldn't complain, not when you waved a goodbye at your friend, and turned your body, recognizing viktor, eyes lighting up immediately, smiling from ear to ear.

“viktor!”, you shouted, voice echoing in the aisle while you walked to him, “i’ve been looking for you all day. you wouldn't believe what happened!”

he looked at you, expression softening, eyes shining, mimicking yours, his thin lips now turning into a little smile, “yeah? tell me."

» soon all the jealousy melted away, now, he is the one walking by your side.

[gomzdrawfr]

content warning: blood

Loyal to a fault

bonus + other versions:

Bonus:

Alt:

the words on Ghost's body reads:

LOVE (level of violence)

it takes a monster to destroy a monster (poorly cropped i apologize)

Loyal Dog

Vēnor (Latin verb for hunt, chase)

this is something very different to what I usually do I hope yall don't mind....also this was me when I was sharing this with my friends...because priceghost/ghostprice dynamic really gets a grip on me

[blackjackkent]

Can we say my Harper responsibilities to maintain balance start *tomorrow*? Hm... no.

Bonus:

/cc @astreamofstars and @springagainafter, my fellow Jaheira-lovers. <3

[ofswordsandpens]

actually I also wanna talk about the part where Percy convinces Bob to kill Hyperion because even though Percy never says anything outright sinister, the way he handles the entire situation with such cool ease, playing on Bob’s emotions... its so insane???

Because Annabeth’s reaction to the three of them encountering Hyperion reforming is: “oh this is bad we need to get out of here” She knows if Bob remembers himself, that it's not going to play out well for Percy and her. She also thinks about how they're being pursued and don't have a lot of time. Her solution to the problem, seemingly, is to leave.

But Percy's solution is to work the situation to his advantage. He re-affirms Bob's loyalty to him:

Percy then re-establishes Bob's moral code: "Some monsters are good. Some are bad. This Titan is bad. He tried to kill me and a lot of people. He's not good like you are."

And it ends with Percy leaving the choice of whatever to do with Hyperion to Bob but of course, is it really what Bob chose to do? Bob decides to kill Hyperion. It's not what he may have done, if Percy hadn't intervened. But it's exactly what Percy was oh-so-sweetly leading Bob to do.

And listen, I'm not claiming that it was exactly morally bankrupt of Percy to take advantage of a once-evil titan who could get him and his girlfriend through hell in one piece. Percy, Annabeth, they manipulate monsters and enemies all the time. Annabeth ended the previous book with manipulating Arachne into weaving her own web. So it's not exactly like she's against using manipulative tactics, in theory.

But Bob, at this point, is not just some monster. He is so painfully sincere in his belief in Percy and their friendship, so yes, it does feel a bit sinister whenever Percy uses Bob... and he really uses Bob.

And I think what makes the scene so unsettling, it isn't just that Percy manipulated Bob, its how well Percy manipulated him. He manipulates Bob so well that Percy doesn't even have to kill Hyperion... because Bob does it for him. He manipulates Bob so well, that Annabeth couldn't tell if Percy was purposefully trying to manipulate the situation. (Newsflash, he most definitely was). Like holy shit.

[butteronabun]

i just want you to take me where your heart is

a diluc ragnvindr x female reader highschool au.

overview: and who could possibly be the golden boy’s type?

wc: 2k

notes: imagine diluc with his hair down in this one. and also. diluc’s father hasn’t d-worded in this au so he’s the happy diluc we all know and love before shit hit the fan ( we still love him even after shit hit the fan tho )

Diluc Ragnvindr is prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker. 

And of course, he’s every girl’s dream guy. 

“. . . And yet, he’s still single,” Kaeya remarks with a smirk, and his friends around him laugh in unison. 

Currently, he’s eating lunch with them in the campus’ outdoor park — a place of tranquility where some students prefer to hang. Instead of being involved in the hustle and bustle of what goes on in their cafeteria, be it your average food fights or impromptu musicals incited by a certain twin–braided man, said outdoor park was a better option for these lads to unwind.

“You know, I used to think that he and Jean would look good together,” a friend of Kaeya says, and they all turn to him. “She’s just like him: elegant and grades conscious. Takes part in student governments and volunteers to school events. Plus, she’s drop dead gorgeous! With her brilliant blue eyes and smooth blond hair, oh, if I was Diluc - I would not hesitate to date her!”

“Nah, I think Lumine is better,” They all glance next to their right. “She’s sporty, and she can definitely keep up with Diluc. She aces her tests without any difficulty, despite doing a part–time job every night with her brother in a nearby coffee shop, and it’s rumored that she makes the best drinks! Moreover, she’s a beauty. That’s why she keeps on receiving loads of love letters during the Windblume Festival every year, so it will not be surprising if she’ll be getting them again!”

Ah, yes. The Windblume Festival is fast approaching—now that January is about to end, in the next two weeks, Brightcrown High School’s air will surely be filled with nothing but endless romance.

Kaeya gazes up above, where a giant tree shadows their figures with its bright green leaves. The sunlight filters through the gaps and he basks into this moment of peace. He then adds playfully, “And Diluc will be busy tidying up his locker once more, because it will be filled with chocolates and letters.”

“What?! Does he even eat them? Tell him that he can donate, you know!”

Kaeya huffs, “My brother won’t even give me a piece, what makes you think he’ll hand you one?” 

He remembers the time that Diluc had been so overwhelmed by the plethora of sweets, and yet seemed so appreciative about it. Father was just proud of the older son’s popularity. Kaeya offered to help him consume them all as a joke, but Diluc shook his head vigorously, saying that he shouldn’t, and that “they all worked hard for this”, and it was right that he only eat them.

How adorable of him, really.

Plus, Diluc even read the letters one by one. No matter how cringe or sickeningly sweet they were, Diluc read them all. And Kaeya wasn’t even shocked that there was no judgment in his face. 

Diluc was just grateful for the gifts. Bashful, indeed, and sometimes he was not sure what to feel, but he was grateful.

“So, Diluc. Who will it be? Jean or Lumine?” Kaeya questions with a grin that afternoon, when the Windblume Festival is finally in full swing. 

Diluc raises his head from the paper he’s answering — it’s a survey given to him by one of the juniors for their research subject — and frowns. “What brought this on? Why am I suddenly choosing between two friends?”

“Oh come on, you weren’t even listening!” Kaeya pouts, before sitting on a nearby desk. 

After exploring the premises for some snacks and attractions, the brothers decided to stay inside an empty classroom for a while. They can hear some cheers from the outside, loud declarations of love and squeals from the majority, that surely Diluc thinks would be a delight for Kaeya, but has opted to accompany him instead.

“I was.” Diluc purses his lips, and hears laughter echoing through the halls as students run and get chased by disciplinary officers. “You and your friends were talking about the girls and I. I just don’t understand why you want me to choose. And be careful, you might fall. Don’t move so much.”

“Cooome on, Diluc,” Kaeya groans as he leans, “We’re sixteen, aren’t we? Father says we’re at that age, after all. By that, I meant, where we’re all supposed to be dating and courting?”

Diluc feels his cheeks slightly heat up from the words that escaped from Kaeya’s mouth. He returns to his duty of answering the survey. ( As if he needed to, when he was already done. ) “And I told you countless times that I’m not interested. Need I remind you that I don’t have the time for it. You know I still have to prepare for college, and that I have to keep an eye on my varsity scholarship, and—“

“Yadda, yadda, yadda——“

“Don’t yadda me, Kaeya. That’s just how it is.”

“You seriously aren’t interested?” Kaeya prods.

Diluc shoots him a firm stare. “Absolutely positive.”

And Kaeya sticks his tongue before hopping from the desk and making his way to the door. “Fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.” Diluc watches his retreating back. “I’ll make sure to find you a lady, and it’ll be your type, and you’ll fall in love.”

Kaeya pulls the door open. He confidently says, “It’ll be inevitable, Diluc. Inevitable!”

A small smile creeps its way to Diluc’s lips, finding this all amusing. “Then I wish you the best of luck.”

Kaeya huffs, not liking that Diluc seems so smug and unbothered by it, then leaves.

Diluc waits for a while. And waits. 

And waits, until he blinks, checks his survey, before sighing heavily. 

A brilliant shade of red coats his pale cheeks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Dating. Courting. The type of lady Diluc likes? Yeah. Diluc already has found his type. 

( Kaeya doesn’t have to know yet. He hates lying, but it’s too soon. Maybe someday. If Diluc can face his feelings first. )

So, hear, hear! He’s not missing out, in spite of what his friends say.

This person is not what everyone expects; it’s not the formal and polite Jean who can deliver a speech eloquently, nor the radiant and loyal Lumine that they want to push toward his direction.

Instead. . .it’s someone else.

And that someone else dropped a bowl of soup to Principal Varka’s white slacks. That someone else triggered the anger of a certain math teacher because she climbed the roof so carelessly during class to fly a kite. That someone else got into detention and instead of writing I’ll be good from now on one hundred times, spent the day with the others in that session to tell ghost stories.

That someone else was you, who wasn’t like Jean or Lumine. That someone else was you—the you, who was his exact opposite, and yet managed to capture his heart. 

You are one of Mond High’s known troublemakers, and apparently, he has fallen victim to your charms.

Maybe it began when you were just snickering with your buddies in the library despite the librarian‘s persistent shushing. He was solving his quadratic formula worksheets back then, and he was impressed that even if you were fooling around, you were in the library to actually learn more about the cardiovascular system, with the help of a fellow friend. 

(“I will be proud to say that the one that carries the blood away from the heart is. . . arteries!”

“You’re right!”

“Yay!!”

“Shh!”) 

Or maybe it began when you witnessed that one student who humiliated himself by accidentally slipping on the wet floor in the cafeteria, and everyone sans Diluc laughed.  Then you came to his rescue, marching in the middle with all the attention on you. 

You didn’t offer your hand. 

But you purposefully slipped instead, and even had the most embarrassing fall. The cafeteria became noisier because of you, and Diluc, baffled at first, found himself chuckling soon after.

Actually, no. 

He didn’t fall in love with you during those times. These were the times in his life that led to this one very moment—

When the Favonious Birds lost the tournament, Diluc was sulking in the playground, all by himself. He took the blame despite Kaeya and his friends denying it, but he knew better. If Diluc had just made it quickly to the ring, their team could’ve been victorious and brought the trophy home.

But alas, it was just an if. It didn’t happen.

Then, something wet drops in his hair. Then his arm. And nose. It was about to rain, and Diluc just grunted, not caring one bit. He was sure Adelinde would make a fuss about it, or his father would pester him for his carelessness, but he wasn’t in the mood to leave his spot just yet.

Let the rain wash away his sorrows.

Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. Pitter–patter. 

“Don’t match with the gloomy weather now.”

Diluc slowly lifted his head, wondering who spoke and what covered his pathetic and hunched form that was wallowing in despair. And his eyes grew wide when he saw you, almost bending with an umbrella in hand, sheltering you and him from the incoming downpour.

You smiled down at him, “There it is. Keep your head up, King! Your crown is falling.” 

And Diluc’s heart skipped a beat the same time a thunder rumbled from the distance. “W–what. . . ?”

You continued, “I don’t know what got you all so sad, but everything will be fine soon! I’m sure of it! After all, once the rain passes, there will be a rainbow!” Then, you grabbed his cold and even bigger hand, and Diluc, at that split second, felt the static. You didn’t even react. But your hand was warm, and Diluc’s chest was, too. 

Dumbfounded, he let you guide his fingers. It only came to him long after that he was gripping a metal handle. “Have my umbrella! I hope this will make your day a little better, and if it doesn’t. . . well, at least I tried. But I have to go now!”

You quickly put the hood over your head when the rain grew stronger. Diluc, concerned over your well–being, finally regained his composure to protest. “But what about you— hey. . . !”

He watched you run and wave, bidding farewell. “You don’t have to return it to me! It’s all yours! I really have to go, so see you, maybe? Bye!”

“But. . . !”

And Diluc. . . Diluc could catch you if he wanted. He could sprint and return the umbrella to its rightful owner, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he remained in his position. 

And his heart— oh, his heart. His heart couldn’t stop pounding that day.

You are Diluc’s first love. 

That is established. 

The thing is, this is a secret. No one knows yet. Just him.

He’s never felt this towards anyone before. You are his first.

( And hopefully the last. )

You’re different from everyone else. You’re different from him. You have your own unique methods of doing things. You have your own way of paving your path. You are the artist to your own canvas; the director of your own film.

You are like the sun. You brighten everyone’s day with your presence, and you also shine, because Diluc can’t keep his eyes off of you whenever you’re in the vicinity.

He knows that this is really an unexpected outcome – him, who was definitely out of your league and vice versa, catching feelings for someone like you.

( Someone like you who is free in life, and Diluc wants to feel that, even just for a bit, with you. )

But like before, all he can do is merely daydream and wonder about the what–ifs. What will it be like to be your friend? Will he experience all the shenanigans that you ensue? Will he also fly a kite with you? Will he get into detention?

Yet this is unbecoming. Improper. Inappropriate for someone like him—for the eldest son of the Ragnvindrs and for the next heir of the winery. He can’t indulge into lighthearted affairs or mischief. He’s supposed to be responsible and disciplined. A man of propriety.

So all he can ever do is have these thoughts. Just thoughts. He has more important matters to attend to, like college applications, training, lessons in handling the in winery business. . . 

And . . . there’s no way that you’ll approach him again, right? 

Diluc knows to himself that can do it instead, you know. He can approach you if he must, but . . . he’s just so shy. 

And a lot of people are always around you. So who is he to burst your bubble, when you seem so finally content with your life?

Diluc peeks from the open windows and sees couples holding hands and sharing kisses. Briefly, he imagines what it would be like to experience romantic love during Windblume.

He feels his cheeks steam again. 

Kaeya will surely have a field day once he sees his older brother being lovesick like this.

You really are one of Mond High’s troublemakers. And it’s not only because you prank your friends or piss off the teachers, but you make it hard for him to focus. 

Just thinking of you never fails to make his heart perform somersaults.

He is Diluc Ragnvindr. Prim and proper. Chivalrous and well–mannered. The star athlete of the Favonious Birds. Intelligent, a leader, and a great speaker. 

He is not every girl’s dream guy. 

Because unfortunately, the girl he likes doesn’t even see him in a romantic light.

[local-diavolo-anon]

i'm back!

ok so 2/3 days ago i found this youtube video where op turned Springtrap (or well, William Afton) into a fully build DnD character, and if i say so myself: things got out of hand fast

so here is my take on DnD Springtrap and specifically on that build (adding more infos under the cut for who is interested, i suggest to watch the video first)

starting with saying that unless you're playing in a scifi setting, this build is either not for you or to be modified, since in later levels spells are heavily centered around technomagic and electronic devices; personally when i will play him i will probably tinker around with the chosen spells and cantrips to make him less violently niche and/or more versatile

which kinda saddens me because it takes away not little of the characterization but, given most dnd stories take place in a medieval fantasy or high fantasy setting, a cantrip like On/Off or a spell like Remote Access are NOT particularly useful; so i will go for more psychic damage or necromancy oriented abilities, maybe i might take more than just 4 levels in artificier as well (especially given that again, all of those warlock spells at later levels are all technology oriented) but i need to see what those offer

however it is a kinda tank-y build given that with a shield on you can get up to a 27 of Ac, so even with low damage and not much hp you would not struggle too much to stay alive, and i like that!

as for the character himself, i put too much effort into my interpretation not to share it, so if anyone wants to play this guy as well, i fabricated a possible backstory that might come useful:

The character goes by the name "Dave Miller" (or whatever variant you want to use), and was originally a human artificier who created constructs for a living, mainly with the goal of offering aid to who needed it for whatever reason.

There however he ran into an issue, that being that a robot need a power source, and his own heart and lungs could not sustain a whole robot by themselves.

After losing part of his family to some kind of accident he became terrified of death, so with age he started replacing his own body parts with machinery to delay his last days (which made him a cyborg), until the point where he was very very close to become just a robot.

(This part may or may not involve a pact with a deity of death, this entirely depends on how you want to play him but it would make sense since the build is an artificier/warlock hybrid)

Through particular and very much not illegal experiments tied to necromancy he discovered that the life force of a living being could be shared, and used as a form of fuel. (possibly: age lived of the creature used= amount of extra months you get)

Here comes the second problem: this only worked with intelligent creatures, and more specifically, it worked best with creatures of your own race, which meant that he either went around murdering people or he found another solution. Non same-race creatures worked as well but not as good and there were not easy to find in the middle of a city and with a shop tied to your name.

And here is where and WHY he'd join a party of adventurers: after some time, his reserves or fuel were running VERY thin, and running into a group of adventurers was a god sent because by joining their party he essentially got a free pass to kill whoever he wanted, and reduce them to a dried raisin after sucking some life force out of them. Doing so you learn that the mowe powerful the creature is, the more energy it produces as well.

Your goal, that you as the player are following, when role-ing your character? essentially slay whatever powerful BBEG your Dm throws at you and suck all of that juicy fuel out of them, so that you can return to your little shop in the middle of the capital and return to create and sell whatever weird construct, doll, or robot comes to your mind for another few decades undisturbed.

And this is it. I think this might be a good backstory that could fit pretty much any setting you want to play this guy into, be it classic dnd or some scifi futuristic thing.

of course you don't NEED to use this one line per line, make up your own without looking back if you don't like it lol, dnd is the "make up shit and have fun" game after all!

Edit: also no his outfit makes no sense, i just went with vibes and decided a tanktop dress shirt, a twin tailed gilet and suspenders OVER said gilet was a good choice.

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.