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asocial-lobster · 24 hours ago

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What We Leave Behind

Everyone leaves something behind. Sky knows this better than most. He has left eight amazing brothers behind in favor of going home to his own era.

Or perhaps it was them who left him?

There is a vacuum in his life. A certain chill to the air in his lungs, unspoken jokes bubbling painfully in his chest. Sky has known a lot of grief in his short life, and he recognizes this feeling for what it is: love turned lonely.

His brothers have not just left emptiness behind, though. It is Zelda who points it out first: Sky has begun wearing his sailcloth like Warriors carries his scarf. He scratches his neck like Hyrule when he is nervous, and his words are thoughtful and mature like Time's. His snarky wit has become more pronounced, honed from months in Legend's company. When he cooks, his fingers expertly find the correct spices without thinking.

Sky's brothers have left a gaping hole in his heart, but they have also left a thousand small habits and gestures. Like driftwood, they keep Sky afloat as he grieves. And if he sometimes cries when a memory of his brothers rises to the surface, then what of it? He is not ashamed to have loved and lost.

So Sky writes down everything he remembers about his brothers and clings to it, remembers. He wonders if he has left a lifetime of odd habits and joys with them, too.

XXX

Four is a scholar, and he takes pride in that fact. He is a scholar and a blacksmith and an adventurer, a husband and an uncle. A brother. Four has always been good at filling his life with meaning.

There are many people Four loves, many of whom he'll never see again. Still, he holds that love securely in every part of his tattered soul; it fills him, keeps his life worth living. He thinks of them often and must reconcile with the fact that he won't ever know what became of them.

All except one.

He has only been home for a year, when the need to know what became of Sky gets too strong to handle. Four is a scholar. He knows how to search for old myths and half-forgotten tales. Four is an adventurer. He knows how to carry himself with confidence on the roads, how to avoid danger and how to escape alive when the danger can no longer be avoided. Four is a brother. He knows how to mourn someone who isn't dead, just out of reach.

It is on this adventure that Four meets Aaron. Aaron is a scholar like Four, but also a baker and a petter of cats and a kind soul. Aaron's soul is whole and unblemished unlike Four's, but he doesn't mind. He is not a brother. He is both something more and something less, because Four knows that brotherly love and romantic love are entirely different things. It's not less, not more. It's just different.

Aaron follows when Four keeps travelling. Hand in hand, they scour the small towns for clues. They flip through old, dusty books and sneeze when it tickles their noses. Aaron makes hot cocoa and apple pie for Four's late-night studies.

Hundreds of years have passed since Sky's era, but Four finds what he is looking for at long last. It is not much, just a few lines in a grimy tome about the first rulers of Hyrule. King Link and Queen Zelda who descended from the heavens. According to the tome, they had two children. Only the oldest, Dinah, is mentioned by name.

Four leans into Aaron's embrace and smiles. He always expected something like that from Sky's future - they all did, really. Sky knew his place in the world long before he met the Chain.

Out of all of them, Sky has changed the world the most. The first hero, the first king. Four wonders if Sky knows just how many good things he has left in his wake.

XXX

Time's life on Lon Lon Ranch is uneventful compared to his adventures but never boring. He likes how small his life is these days. He is allowed to care only about those closest to him instead of the whole kingdom. It is nice to walk into the barn in the morning and know that the horses and cows are dependent on him to feed them, not to save the world.

At night, Malon's body is warm against his, a comfort he has been sorely lacking during his last adventure. Her hair tickles his cheek, but he doesn't brush it away. After so long apart, he cherishes the moments when they are close.

He misses the boys often. Not as they were on their adventure, high-strung and anxious, but as they were during their breaks and on Lon Lon Ranch. He misses Warriors' jokes and Legend's sarcastic remarks. The sailor was always so full of energy, mouth running faster than his mind – an impressive feat, given Wind's intelligence. Twilight was quieter, but no less funny or mischievous than the others.

Time misses them, and in his ideal world, they would all be living on the ranch with him, Malon, and Talon. But the boys have their own lives in their own eras.

Time doesn't go looking for stories about the others. Only Sky and Four come before him in the timeline, and he feels fairly certain they have led happy lives. Sky had both Sun and Groose waiting for him at home, and the skyloftian was mature and kind. He will build a life for himself, Time is sure of it.

Four was well-balanced, a man in tune with his emotions. He had Dot and his grandfather. Four has adapted to sudden changes before, Time knows. He will adapt to this, too.

The person Time longs to see again the most is Warriors. Not because he loves him more than the others, but because he is worried about the captain. Warriors has been through so much already, and he was depressed when they parted. Time can't stand the thought that he'll never know if Warriors fought his way out of depression and into the happy life he deserved.

His adventure with the Chain has left Time with many happy memories, but it has also left a nagging worry in the back of his mind which he fears will never disappear.

XXX

Legend has spent a lifetime searching for weapons and items and answers to a thousand problems. He has fought and bled for a kingdom which never held any particular fondness for him - a prince in a line of princesses and queens. Still, Legend has risked his life many, many times on adventures.

What is a few more?

This time, it is not adventures of Hylia's kind. There is no returning king of evil, no nefarious lizards or scheming mages. There is only Legend's desperate wish to reconnect with the brothers he has left behind.

He finds old, forgotten dungeons filled with treasure. Most of it has nothing to do with his brothers, but some of it has. He finds weapons of Four's making. He even finds a quiet stone chamber with cracked gravestones. The fading text reads:

Her Majesty Queen Zelda Hylia Hyrule

and

His Majesty King Link Hyrule

Legend pays his respects and leaves. Sky deserves a peaceful rest.

The biggest prize he finds is a ratty notebook. It is buried deep within a dungeon, and Legend has no idea how it wound up there. But the title page reads Link in Four's neat handwriting, and that's a miracle in itself.

The small book is filled with sketches of weapons. Comments fill the margins. Some are about the swords' blades, observations on how well the metal folded or how durable they turned out to be.

But some comments are of another kind. Recipes and grocery lists are scattered across the pages. A recipe for apple pie stands out with a small heart next to the A. Legend wonders if maybe it was Four's favorite.

Ravio helps him bake the pie with apples from the tree in their garden. It's a perfect mix of sweet and sour. Almost like life, Legend muses. Happiness is always intertwined with grief. Sweet and sour.

He likes to read the book, again and again, when nightmares chase his sleep away. There really are a lot of recipes in the book. Did Four take up baking? Or did he marry a baker? Legend has no way of knowing, but he likes to speculate. The book lies on his nightstand when he goes to bed.

He writes his own little book, too. Maybe Hyrule will find it someday.

XXX

After a whole year with the Chain, Hyrule's era feels colder than he remembers it. But Hyrule can deal with it. He is used to the cold.

There's still a lot of work to do. Hyrule may have saved the world again, but his kingdom is still healing. The poison from the curse lingers like stains in an old carpet that can't be washed out.

Hyrule is young. He was even younger when he went on his first adventure, fingers gripping uncertainly around a sword too big for his childish hands. Hyrule's grip is no longer awkward. Now, his fingers curl around the hilt like they were made for it. Maybe they were.

How young is too young to be Hylia's chosen hero? Some of his brothers were younger yet when they were called by their first adventure.

Hyrule is cold, but he carries a flame in his heart. It is nursed by Wild's steady hands, shielded by Twilight's broad frame. The memories are painful, but Hyrule chases them anyway. They're the only thing he has left of his brothers.

Sometimes the flame is a roaring fire, devouring everything in its path. Other times, it is but a candlelight, barely enough to stave off the cold. He tells Aurora about it one day, and she helps him search the royal archives for old tomes and ancient scripts which may provide him with the closure he yearns for. But the curse has not been kind to old relics, and a lot of information has been lost to time. Legend is mentioned many times in the scripts, saving the kingdom again and again. It does not mention anything about his life after his last adventure. Hyrule hopes this is because Legend settled down to live a quiet life.

The archives do not mention neither Four nor Sky at all.

The flame burns in Hyrule's chest, and sometimes he fears it will devour him, too.

XXX

The deck rocks gently beneath Wind's feet. He rarely spends time on land these days, instead chasing the blue waves and playing tag with the salty sea breeze. He has been on many adventures during his short life, but he is not yet tired of the wonders in this world. The ship is a gateway, it is a magical portal. There is only one place it cannot take him, and that is the one place he most desperately wants to go.

Wind stares into the blue water and wonders what is hidden deep beneath it. Are you out there? He wonders. Has the ocean claimed your bones?

The sea is vast and infinite. Some days, she is kind, other days an angry, roaring beast. Wind's brothers lived in this world once, but the ocean has long since scrubbed the world clean of any remnant of them.

XXX

Twilight does not need to look for clues to know what happened to Time. The Old Man's regrets turned him into a stal, and he only found peace after Twilight met him. It hurts Twilight's heart to know that Time will yet have to suffer so much.

But there are still things to discover, unanswered questions lingering on his tongue.

Twilight has visited Lon Lon Ranch many times during his adventures in Time's era. The world may have changed since then, but not much. Once he starts looking, it is easy to find his way back there.

He spends an entire day just looking at the ranch from afar. The stable has been painted in a light brown, and the fences have been moved so that the cows have more space. Smoke rises from the chimney.

An old woman sees him hiding in the tree line. She approaches him with a surprising confidence despite her age, demanding to know why he is lurking around on her farm.

The woman's hair is gray save for a few red strands which she has brushed back into a braid. Her eyes are sharp, and her face is lined with dimples and sorrows alike.

At first Twilight can do nothing but stare at her, taking in the embroidered cuffs on her shirt, the apron which covers her skirt. He manages to tell her that his family once lived here. The Lons. He asks if she knows what became of them.

The woman goes still. At first Twilight thinks he might have said something wrong, but then he sees the tears in her eyes.

The woman is his grandmother. She ushers him into a kitchen which feels familiar and wrong at the same time. The dining table is too sturdy. There are more shelves than there shouod be.

She finds cookies and milk – Lon Lon milk – in the pantry and sits him down in a chair. She tells him the story of her daughter and son-in-law who took their little son with them to the market and never came back. She tells him of the boy's brown hair and gentle eyes, of how he answered to the name Link.

She cries as Twilight tells her of his life, and at one point she grabs his hand in hers. Twilight lets her do it and cries a little himself.

The woman's name is Eva. She only had the one daughter, but she has a younger brother who lives in Castletown and a twin sister who lives with her on the ranch. The sister's children live on the ranch too, though they and their mother are out for the day. Twilight has more family out there, and Eva promises to introduce them soon. In turn, Twilight agrees to take her to meet Rusl, Uli, and Colin.

Eva is Time and Malon's daughter. She speaks very fondly of them and listens to Twilight's tales with interest. Unfortunately, Malon passed away a few years ago, and Twilight feels his heart break at the news. Eva is relieved to hear that Time has found rest.

The sky is rapidly darkening outside the windows, and the ranch's other inhabitants come home. They greet him with hugs and teary smiles. Twilight stays for dinner with the family he has never known. There is a lot of lost time to make up for, but that's okay. He is more than willing to put time and effort into getting to know his family.

Twilight knows he will never see Malon or Time again. But they have left him a wonderful family at Lon Lon Ranch which welcomes him with open arms. And though his heart still aches, he has found his peace with that. Twilight sits on the roof of the stable and looks at the setting sun, thinking of the family he has lost and the family he has gained.

XXX

Warriors regrets a lot of things. He regrets being unable to save many a friend during the war. He regrets how distant he has grown to his mama and sisters during a decade of depression and struggles. He regrets a thousand words and moments he wanted to share with his brothers but never got the chance to.

It's odd. Back during the war, he visited many of their homes and met their friends. He didn't know most of his brothers back then and didn't think twice about visiting the unfamiliar eras. But now, as desperate longing swells in his chest, he finds himself confined to his own era. No swirling purple-black portals show up to whisk him away to another time. No familiar blond or brown or pink heads bob into sight from behind a tree, a joke and a friendly smile ready on their lips. No one is there to release a frog onto his pillow or ruffle his hair while he yells indignantly. There is only Warriors and his grief. His heart has been ripped to shreds, and though he is supposedly the field medic, he cannot find it in himself to stitch it back together. To heal feels like betraying everything his brothers mean to him.

So Warriors clings to his memories. He carefully preserves Mask's and Tune's drawings between sheets of glass and hangs them on his walls. He scours the castle archives for information about his predecessors and when he finds little to none, he takes it upon himself to fill the gaps in Hyrule's history. He documents everything he can remember about the others and their adventures. He keeps the more private details of their lives to himself, scratching stories of Hyrule's kindness and Four's levelheadedness onto paper with a crooked quill during the long hours of night. He tries his hand at drawing, and he finds that he rather likes the version of Time which stares back at him from the paper, though he didn't quite manage to capture the mischievous glint of his eye. Still, the drawings are better than nothing, and he doesn't give up before he has all eight of his brothers committed to paper. There are only few things Warriors truly fears, and one of them is forgetting even the tiniest detail about the brothers he has lost.

XXX

Wild leans back against his arms and looks at the kingdom spreading out beneath him. There is no reason for him to visit The Great Plateau anymore, but he likes being there. It is the first home he can truly remember.

There is something magical about the world far beneath him. There was a time when Wild looked at it and only saw his own shortcomings, the ruins covering the landscape like his scars cover his skin. But the wilderness is thriving down there, horses and deer and goats running rampant among lush grass. There is a beauty to it, one which Wild understands better than most.

Besides, Wild has won a newfound interest in old ruins. When he and Zelda aren't busy rebuilding the kingdom, they explore forgotten mysteries and solve ancient puzzles.

Sometimes they are lucky enough to find an old relic from his brothers' eras. An old stone carving depicting a great battle. A sword. The ruins of Lon Lon Ranch.

It is crazy to think that these things have survived for so long, just waiting to be rediscovered by Wild's curious eyes. But that is the nature of his brothers, he supposes. Each of them changed the world forever, like ripples spreading across calm water. A seed lying dormant in the ground only to suddenly sprout come spring.

Everyone leaves something behind, Wild has learned. And while he may never see his brothers again, there is a comfort in knowing that the echo of their existence has carried on through thousands of years. His brothers may be gone, but their memories are everywhere. And, Wild thinks as he stares into the endless blue sky, maybe that's enough.

#linked universe #linked universe fanfiction #lu fanfiction #lu sky #lu four #lu time #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wind #lu wild #post linked universe #Twelve Months of Brotherhood #sun writes

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queenbrucewayne · 1 day ago

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First Encounter

A/n: I think I’m going to make this into a multi part thing. Why not, I guess.

Bruce Wayne, the man that had the deepest pockets in Gotham. He was what men envied, and what women swooned over. He was also your boss.

You were working at Wayne industries for two months now, and most of the work had been a repeat of transferring documents between floors and helping with charity projects. It was a great job, with good pay and friendly coworkers that helped out with any questions you would have.

Although Mr, Wayne was apart of a lot more then you expected, he still wouldn’t be around for a whole lot. That would he expected though since one man couldn’t work on everything the company had to offer.

You learned it was best to be focused on the details of the job, which also meant the people around you. Including Mr, Wayne.

Your first encounter with him was from a charity ball. He was at the party chatting with a bunch of fancy suits, drinking champagne that was definitely the cost of your months rent.

A few workers had been asked to stay for the party to help organize any donations made for the night. Of course getting paid for the time.

It was a nice event, everyone in their best dressed and willing to donate plenty on the charities that were sponsored tonight.

“I’m going to go get some more welcoming cocktails from the kitchen.” Your coworker nodded and you set off.

You opened the door to the kitchen, saying a quick hi to one of the servers. Walking over to the huge walk in fridge, you quickly spotted the tray you were looking for that was covered in plastic.

Backing out with the tray in hand you quickly turned and unexpectedly ran into the last person you expected to see in the kitchen.

“Mr, Wayne!”

Surprising you both, the tray you were holding had lost it’s balance. You crashed into a sturdy body, which then made you lose balance. Before you could fall backwards, you felt a grip on your wrists pull you forward, this time making you stumble a bit.

The tray hit the floor with a loud crash and you were probably going to be next, but instead you looked up to see two blue eyes staring down at you. Mr, Wayne had you close to him, holding you against his chest to keep balance. You had gripped both his biceps tightly to try and keep yourself up, although it seemed like he wasn’t struggling at all.

“Well… that was dramatic.” Y/n laughed nervously, feeling just how close you both were to each other.

He smirked, “You okay? It’s not very often I get to have a hero moment.”

Did he just… was he flirting. Nah, this was just his smooth talk he was known for.

Pulling you up gently he waited until you were both at a straight stance. “Thank you, I definitely made a mess of things.” Looking down, you noticed all the food was scattered.

Taking a small trash can from behind, you got on your hands and knees and started to clean up the mess. What you didn’t expect was for an extra pair of hands to do the same thing.

“Oh, Mr, Wayne, you don’t have to bother with this. You really should get back to the party.” You looked up to see he was in the same position as you. He glanced up making eye contact, then quickly looking back down.

“This is nothing, besides it gives me an excuse to take a break from being out there.”

You thought he was joking, but he definitely had a hint of annoyance to his tone.

“Is that why, you were in the kitchen? To get away from having to talk to more people? To hide?”

He sighed, “I know, it’s my event, and it’s for a great cause, but some of these conversations I’ve been having is rather exhausting to say the least. I mean… having to pretend I can relate to their extra luxury lifestyle is getting tedious.”

You nodded, thinking a bit more about some of the things you’ve read on him in the last couple of months. “So… you don’t spend your time like they do? Even if you are rich like them?” Before you could stop yourself from saying it, it was too late. Glancing up you noticed he didn’t seem too bothered by the question.

“Just because we all have money, doesn’t mean I go about my life as they do.”

“So, I guess the tabloids really got it wrong about you.”

“You thought they were real?” He stopped to look up.

You shook your head. “No, I definitely noticed how much time you spend at the office; way more then any other boss I’ve ever worked with in the past.”

“And you like it here?” He asked.

This time you looked up, throwing the last piece of food that fell into the trash can. “I do. I feel like we actually make a difference here, and we probably wouldn’t do as well if it weren’t for your social presence.”

Standing up, he held out a hand. “I definitely can’t take all the glory, I got amazing employees.”

Taking his hand, you got to your feet, dusting off the dress you were wearing you picked up the fallen tray and set it on the counter. “We got a great boss.”

Bruce smiled. He walked to the fridge door and opened it again, grabbing another tray of what you were trying to get before. “Let’s walk these out there, maybe I can pass as a waiter and avoid any more dreadful conversations.”

“Yeah right, everyone knows your face, you couldn’t blend in if your life depended on it.”

“Oh, don’t be too sure. I could probably get as far as ten steps.” He teased.

“I say four, but what do I know.”

You both started to walk towards the kitchen exit, you turned back around to make sure everything was put back. It got you thinking of when he caught you, he was extremely fast on his reflexes, most people probably wouldn’t have reacted in time like the way he did… and there was also a certain look in his eye, it was only for a second but it definitely wasn’t anything like his normal teasing attitude.

“You coming?”

You turned back to see him waiting at the door. Even with the tray in his hand it was still hard to believe he could be mistaken as a waiter.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just checking to make sure everything was good.”

Walking next to his side, both of you made your way out back to the party. He made it all the way to where you had been standing before, setting the tray down, only to be approached a second later by a fancy suit that wanted all his attention.

He turned to look over his shoulder at you, shrugging as the guy walked him over to the other side of the room.

It gave you the opportunity to watch him the whole night, really seeing the difference in how he was talking to the people of status vs how he was in the kitchen. It really must be exhausting to be Bruce Wayne.

#batman #batman x reader #batman x you #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #dc comics #dc universe #queen bruce wayne

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none-but-y0u · 7 months ago

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this isn’t even a buddie bucktommy ship wars thing for me 😭 buck is a character outside of his relationships and i just wish 911 would let him explore that 😭😭😭

#911 abc #like i thought the daddy joke was funny #but randomly placed #but also i just wish they’d let buck sit with his emotions #instead of turning everything into a joke all the time

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puhpandas · 1 month ago

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its been so long since human content/new content with no book relevancy even the youtubers and theorists like dawko and john are getting restless😭

#dawko going its not gonna happen steel wool right over glamfred and rhe humans not coming back #and john going 'im... totally okay with that happening 😐' about mimics story being spoiled in the books 2 years before sotm #like dude even theyre feeling it #dawko would love a fnaf game about absolutely nothing so his excitment about sotm makes sense #but its refreshing seeing john actually criticize it bc it deserves to be even if it was really tame and not really explicitly said #we understand and its just. so nice seeing someone like john actually aware of how stupid it id #instead of everyone being okay with it and not criticizing it for some reason #even tho it kind of sucks #like john is one of the last surviving theorists and a big figure in the community #seeing him actually not shy away from at least implying he thinks its bad and dumb in a video is just.#soo refreshing #like so many times i felt like i was insane for disliking all the mimic theories before ruin came out #i thought it was boring. mimic is a book villain #its so sad seeing john try to actually theorize about mimic in an interesting way with a satisfuing narrative that isnt just c&p #but it just turns out that actually yeah. its game is a rerun of its book lore that came out years ago #and we spent three entire years foreshadowing and teasing 'carnival' in games to hype this game up and its just c&p book lore nothing new #except the new shit being like. stuff about OG freddys and og characters which. are not explaining the mimics backstory #its just like whyy did they do it like this. and they shafted basically every single thing else to do it for years #no wonder dawko is starting to actually joke about them never bringing them back and john is implying his distaste #pandas.txt #discourse #sorryyyyy #its just like i think about sotm and im like i dont need to be that hard on it. theres nothing inherently wrong with a game explaining #mimics backstory #and then i remember how it was spoiled 2 years earlier in the books and everybody already knows its story and theres nothing #new about the mimic in this game save for a random new form #and im like yeah nevermind its okay to be critical about it they somehow handled the mimics story in the worst way possible #up to this point #like if youre a fan of literally anything else in the story youll resent mimic at least a little bit for how much it hijacked everything #even all mimic fans are getting are reruns of shit they already know

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bumpscosity · 28 days ago

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you guys treat it as if the grass demon is the literal only reason fern is different from finn but tbh imo it's really only amplifying his own feelings. i just watched this essay and while it wasn't specifically about fern and was more about the finn sword it really amplified the notions i already had about him.

In i am a sword you can really see that he was kinda always treated like bunk, the simple fact that he's called Finn Sword instead of Sword Finn really drives home the fact that he isn't seen as finn who happens to live in a sword but as a sword first and for most, an object. you can even see in that same episode that finn 1 and finn 2 were already not fully seeing eye-to-eye BEFORE the grass sword did anything. sure they started off the same but their differentiating experiences have branched them off into 2 different finns, both still finn, but different nonetheless.

sword finn went from being treated like an object to being treated like an abomination. it's no wonder he gets frustrated and angry and lashes out, he hasn't been given the chance to just be himself for fucking ages. and then after all that his brothers just leave him on the top of the treehouse to wither away until they need him?

dude suddenly started being treated like trash by everyone he ever cared about, it shouldn't be a surprise he latches onto the first person who treats him kindness and offers him a familial bond.

like if the grass demon did literally nothing but give sword finn a body that would just change how he processed everything, he'd still be living in finns shadow, he'd still be seen as a freak and lesser than finn, and honestly he still probably would have trouble doing anything "right" for the simple fact that him and finn have experienced such different lives post the swords creation and they're both different people now. he'd probably still get frustrated and lash out (and maybe even still hatch a plan to become the only finn considering all it took finn to heavily manipulate fp was a simple dream).

the difference lies in the fact that the emotions he would already be having were boosted, i mean you can even see the grass sword manipulate finn a couple times. fern was deemed too hard to help until they had no choice but to help him, this is why i think i could fix fern in like a rabid dog way in this essay i will-

#i turned this into a joke at the end bc i was full steam ahead and now my period cramps #are kicking in and i can't concentrate and lost the plot but you get what im saying #sassy speaks #at #can you tell i got really passionate abt fern specifically for some reason #i genuinely don't know why bc there's a lot of other characters in adventure time that were treated like trash #he was just treated like shit for no fucking reason #'oh but finn and jake tried to help him' yeah like once each and then decided it was too hard and left him to bedrot #fern needed someone to teach him how to process his emotions instead of ppl constantly invalidating them #and i mean he kinda got that in the end but i think there were ways to do that without fucking killing him yknow #i know that's literally not the point of his character but idc my character now #btw a fun quirk of all my writing is that i don't proofread if this doesn't make sense blame my headache and joint pain Everything Else

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this-should-do · 8 months ago

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venting dont mind me xp ✌

#if i dont get out of my parents house im going to die #either by my hand or my mothers #i refuse to be forced into the role of woman becuz my mother cant get over herself or accept other peoples suffering #so i either leave or i die #i am never more depressed than when im in this house and it gets worse everytime i return #every second of oeace is a facade careful held up by smiles and jokes while ignoring who i am to please others #and ignorjng the genuinely genocidal beliefs of my parents against myltple peoples #at least one of which includes me #why cant life be easy #when is it .y turn to tbrive #in this hluse i am no older than a middle schooler no more mature or happy #everyday i dream of relapsing sh-ing just for some control of the pain i experiemce something anything #maybe someone will finally listen to me and se ehow ioset i am see how smothered i am and the sting will pull me back down to earth again #but no who would see would understand #my brothers or my parents none of them would kniw why even if i said it to thwir face #i dint event even want to think of what my mother woukd say #shed use it as an excuse to further deny my transness surely #say how horribke and spirtful and manipulative i am against her #that i ddi it to hurt her #i am trapped as a doll in a house only allowed to be agreeable no politics no emotions other tan #contentness and love and adoration for my family #or else i am unloveavle and horrible and sick #i cannot tell my mom she has uoset me becuz it would be unfair i am silent instead #i am to take her anger and rage as a perfect recepticle and no matter how well i handle it #i am thanked with resentment amd scorn amd terfisms #i can neither disagree woth her beliefs nor avoid discussing them to keeo the oeace all she wants is comoliance #i refuse to do that tho ill take hee scorn on that one thing i refuse to xomprimise my beliefs verbally to save my own skin #ill just be quiet #im sure id be a better recepticle for her dead so she can dress me up as a girl one last time #the dead cant argue or disagree with you its everything she wants from me

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exopelagic · 9 months ago

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what WAS the normal child response to learning abt climate change actually. bc I’m pretty sure ‘depressed for at least 6 months and becoming deeply fascinated by apocalypses for ~3 years’ was prooooobably not it but who am I to say

#did NOT realise how much this has shaped me actually #also am not exaggerating when I say depressed I. cannot remmeber a lot of it but my parents were Worried about me #anyway I joke abt how I’m a biologist now bc of pokemon and that is very true but this is probably a pretty big chunk too #it’s just wild like that happened when I was 11 and I was DEEEEEP in the apocalypse trenches until I was at least 14 #I think I wrote my first longish story when I was? 13? about waking up after some massive chunk of time to a world with no people left #that concept rlly held onto me for some reason. just all the people suddenly disappearing #I’m saying all this like I’m not still rlly into apocalypse stories but it is a mere shadow of its former self #anyway I’m so grateful for the conservation module I took this year bc learning abt the state of everything + the way out of it #scientifically instead of piecemeal from the news and the shit I could read abt. has been rlly good for my everything honestly #didn’t properly sink in until two months ago I don’t think that year this is kiiinda what I would like to do with my life #bc I’d always been resistant to the idea of doing conservation or climate science or anything bc historically thinking abt it for too long #has been BAD for me and I didn’t think I could do that forever while keeping most of me #but now I’m at a point where like. okay very likely I’m gonna be an actual scientist. and while pure science is cool and worthwhile #and I still have feelings abt how there’s no funding or anything for studies without immediate practical applications #(THEY NORMALLY COME LATER AND EVEN IF THEY DONT ITS WORTH KNOWING EVERYTHING WE CAN KNOW SHUT UUUUPPP)#i do wanna do smth that’s gonna make a difference bc like I’m kinda in a position where that’s possible here #anyway my masters is gonna be ecology and hopefully with a microclimate focus which is cool as hell and will hopefully keep stuff open a bit #and I’m gonna try do as much as I can next year. there’s some very cool stuff happening I might be able to join #anyway wow this took a turn #climate crisis! woo!!#luke.txt

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martyrbat · 1 year ago

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every day mcr fans prove to be the worst people alive huh

#oh so you can excuse frank being antisemitic and history of being sexist and publicly bashing his young fanbase to spread hate for them #and gerard marrying a racist and being very close friends with several other racists and antisemitics #and turning comments off when Black fans were telling him to make a statement during the protests #and didnt even include a donation link and spun it about him being ‘sensitive’ to fans rightfully being mad #you can ignore the history of racism in their band and members and who they hang around #and you can ignore (again) the racism and antisemitism in the fanbase and entire scene that had people sending BIPOC death threats recently #and you can ignore how mcr continues to profit off nostalgia and any work/activism they did in the early 2000s while making no statement #or work or helping people in the current day despite being rich and able to safely instead.#while either 1) getting mad because frank apparently has an ai music video. excusing everything including the antisemitism he JUST left as #a comment on said announcement because it doesn't concern you #or 2) calling it discourse or ‘cancel culture’ and making jokes about it until ‘everyone gets bored and things go back to how they were«#as a GOOD thing because it doesn't concern you and you're that big of a piece of shit #like yay happy for you that your shitty idol who frequently writes incest and constantly sexualize Asian women #and has a history of being tolerate and complying to racism wore a fucking skirt to get richer #but can you actually have any fucking morals or care for anyone around you and get some fucking perspective.#i dont give a shit if you like their music but how people constantly talk about the members as if this is something they can and should #brush under a rug and never deal with is so infuriating and nauseating to see every fucking time #im sending every single Jewish and POC person in the alt/emo community my love. you all deserve better than this shit.

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phantomrose96 · 8 months ago

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Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

#chrissy speaks

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s-soulwriter · 3 months ago

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Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.

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tonycries · 6 months ago

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The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school.

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt.

Never mess with you. Anyone but you.

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second.

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team.

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile.

Everything.

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else.

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all.

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss.

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you.

Everything.

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio.

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you.

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries.

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments.

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew.

You’d kissed him back.

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister.

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good.

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up.

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by.

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling.

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.”

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine.

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics.

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked.

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss.

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door.

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that.

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for.

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth.

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours.

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes.

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship.

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious.

What did he have that Satoru didn’t?

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his.

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.”

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom.

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye.

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn.

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy.

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh.

Shit.

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank.

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck.

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.”

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now.

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?”

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.”

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused.

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today.

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway.

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there.

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru.

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms.

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life.

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned.

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.”

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you.

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt.

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you.

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist.

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?”

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?”

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you.

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so.

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots.

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually.

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit.

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene.

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?”

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully.

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out.

Like you were about to snap. Any second now.

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…” Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt.

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours.

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection.

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous.

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.”

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.”

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.”

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch.

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag.

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.”

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact.

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps.

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling.

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-”

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-”

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll.

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt.

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.”

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white.

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family.

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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tony-andonuts · 11 months ago

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Hiiii i am back from work and am. Spiraling

#it genuinely feels like im getting dimentia #or maybe just a super severe internal psychosis episode #i reaallly wish the CEO of my workplace fucking killed himself after turning the place into a non profit #this shit is legitimately killing me #i have zero freetime #i havent showered all weed #week #and i havent done my laundry either #and i also just now foujd out that Ill very likely be moving in 2 months instead of the expected 6 #andlike.#everyone at my work wont make me forget that things get chaotic when im not there solike.#which is too much responsibility on a 21 year old #but it makes me wanna throw up and commit horrific acts of violence bc ik everything will crash once i leave but like #like i said. iM ONLY TWENTY ONE AND HAVE ZERO TIME TO EVEN GET IMPORTANT MEDICAL AND LEGAL SHIT DONE!!!!#lET ALONE EVEN BE A 21 YEAR OLD!!!!!!!!!!#if my morning coworker wasnt the actual best coolest and most stimulating person in my life right now i would be in prison right now #nofucking joke i need someone to see just how not okay i am bc im tearing off my flesh for everyone and im getting down to the bones #and once i get down to the bones i will just straight up explode #like book a bus ticket to troy and uh....#anyways i need to go bc i am so not okay rn!!!!!!#tony speaks #tony vents

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lovelybucky1 · 5 months ago

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Oooohh i have a request!:

Playing “never have i ever” or something like that with logan and wade (maybe along the lines of a boring friday night with nothing else to do) and you admit to never having an orgasm by anyone but yourself

Flash forward you’re in logan’s arms and wade is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and then they switch 👀👀

i’ve written something similar two the second part here, but i love the never have i ever idea! // divider from @strangergraphics

boredom isn’t something heroes are used to. there’s always something happening somewhere, someone needing to be saved. but tonight, everything is quiet. the three of you were suspicious at first, but you checked every police scanner, news outlet, and all of your contacts and came up with nothing. the bad guys had decided to take an evening off, and now you were stuck with nothing to do.

you, wade, and logan all sit around in the living room with bottles of beer. you and wade stare at the mindless gameshow on tv while logan rests his eyes. you’re definitely bored, but wade is restless. it’s like he’s itching for something to do, like his body is physically unable to handle the inactivity.

“why don’t we play a game?” wade asks, startling logan awake.

the two of you look over at wade. “what kind of game?” you ask.

“i don’t know, ‘never have i ever?’”

logan rolls his eyes, then shuts them again. he’ll deny any “old man” comments, but he really is one. you elbow logan in the side and he opens them again.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” wade pleads.

“it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you say to logan. reluctantly, he agrees.

you reposition yourselves in the living room. you sit on the couch, leaned against the arm with your feet in logan’s lap, who sits on the other end. wade sits on the floor by the coffee table, his beer on the table without a coaster next to him.

“this is your game, wilson. you start,” logan says before taking a sip of his beer.

“no, don’t drink! you only drink if you’ve done the thing i say,” wade scoffs. how can logan be so old and still know nothing about fun? “okay, okay. never have i ever… gotten arrested.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him while logan takes a drink. you’re almost certainly wade has been arrested before. “i don’t think you’re playing this game right,” you say. “you have to say things you’ve never done.”

wade scoffs. “i haven’t been arrested, thank you very much. all the cops who’ve tried have mysteriously ended up with broken noses.”

you roll your eyes at him. “my turn now? never have i ever… cheated on a partner.”

both of them take drinks, wade with more shame than logan. ugh, men.

then it’s logan’s turn. “never have i ever worn a dress.”

you figure it’s targeted at you, just because logan’s a dick, but to your surprise, wade drinks too. logan raises his eyebrow at him, silently urging him to elaborate.

“you wish you saw that, huh, peanut?” he taunts instead. logan makes a face at that.

“i’m thankin’ god i didn’t have to.”

you play a couple more rounds, all three of you exchanging stories and sipping from your bottles. it takes a lot to get them drunk, but you’re starting to feel it. there’s a collection of empty bottles, mostly beer, but halfway through the game, wade decided to up the ante with some liquor.

it’s wade’s turn again and he says, “never have i ever been with two guys at once.”

he means it as a joke. he doesn’t expect anyone to drink. there’s no way logan would do something like that, and you’re too innocent. that’s why his eyes practically pop out of his head when you throw back the shot.

the game turned sexual a few rounds ago, but it was pretty mild stuff. talk about doing stuff in public, kinks, freaky shit like that. nothing as interesting as this.

both wade and logan turn their full attention to you, eager to hear this story.

“what?” you play dumb.

“two guys at once?” wade asks. you shrug.

“it wasn’t anything.”

“nah,” logan says, sounding interested for the first time all game. “you gotta tell us.”

you sigh. “it was a while ago. i met this couple at a bar and they said they were looking for a third. i had nothing better to do and they were both hot, so…” you trail off, shrugging again.

“give us the gory details. how’d you do it? daisy chain?eiffel tower? double cowgirl? triple spooning? come on, tell us,” wade rambles.

“you’re a fucking perv,” you tell him and he doesn’t deny it. “it was just normal dp.”

logan raises an eyebow. “that stands for double penetration,” wade tells him.

“i know that. i’m just wondering how you took it all,” logan says.

you’re used to this kind of talk from wade. the man thinks with his dick so much that you question if he even has a brain. you’re not, however, used to this from logan. he’s no prude, but he usually doesn’t participate in these kinds of conversations with wade.

“must’ve been a tight fit,” logan adds on.

you look between the men and their interested faces. you’re still pretty bored, the game having grown stale a while ago, and now you’re a tipsy. you want something exciting and right now, you’re feeling bold enough to persue it.

“do you wanna see?” you ask them.

wade and logan share a glance, but it only takes a second before they’re replying “yes” in unison.

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yanderenightmare · 7 months ago

Text

♡ TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup

♡ FEM reader

You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.

It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.

You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.

He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.

You’re breaking up with him.

He’s confused afterward, too.

You’re breaking up with him?

That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead.

You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.

No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.

“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.

“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.

You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—

“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”

“No—”

“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”

“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”

“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”

“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”

“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”

You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…

“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”

There’s a silence. The chatter of the café seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.

“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”

When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.

“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”

He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.

“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”

And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy…

That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.

Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.

But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.

He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!

The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.

There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.

He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.

When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.

He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.

And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.

And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.

You will be his again.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna, or Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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