#that sounds bad but i know exclusively

[winepresswrath]

at a bar & the hockey is on and wow. i've never actually seen a guy bounce the puck of his skate and get it in before. that is hilarious.

[writeouswriter]

People sorting ao3 solely by stats and only clicking on fics with a certain amount of kudos or comments, you will not survive the winter, nor the summer, nor at all, *brings out knife,* run

[inkskinned]

he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.

except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?

at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.

except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.

about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.

he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.

[wellijustfinnihedoneofthebooks]

Tbh the real reason i need to get on t is to find out how good i can really sound singing ghost songs

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

my entire family goes to bed at 9:30 because i live with fucking old people (im joking. somewhat.) and from then on i have to move around the house quietly. this wouldn't be a problem except that my door is incredibly and uniquely fucked up and nigh impossible to open even remotely quietly

[gunkbaby]

ok so you don't have to answer this bc I know you're really only here for Shuu BUT do you have any thoughts about Hide with BPD?

i will be honest : i know almost nothing about Hide, so I don’t feel I can answer this properly - so Hide fans can feel free to sound off in the reblogs if they have ideas (I would ask for people with BPD/experiences with it to answer particularly, because of how stigmatised BPD is!). I will main tag it so more people can see and potentially offer food for thought - people with more Hide knowledge.

But regardless, with my very limited memory of him - I don’t know if I would say he has it? Like I said, I really am not a Hide expert. I like him well enough, but I don’t think he really reads as BPD to me personally. Maybe it’s just that my experience with BPD is on the more outwardly obsessive, dependant, toxic side - which is why I think I see it so clearly with Shuu (and potentially Kanae) - but I mean. My experience isn’t final or universal. I’m not saying it’s a complete no-go, but my immediate reaction is that I’m not sure I would associate him with BPD. Again, like I said, I’m basing this off of my very limited knowledge, and my personal experience. I haven’t started my re-read officially yet (so many books on the go atm…mon dieu…), so maybe my thoughts will change during that time - in which case I will reblog this post with any new takeaways I might have for you.

I’m sorry, this is is such a shite answer 😭 I just haven’t analysed him as deeply as other characters - I’ll make notes during my re-read and see if I notice anything and report back

[vampirebiter]

its so hard being an extreme horror fan because a lot of it is just. more or less edgy for the sake of being edgy and kinda ass and most of the ones that get popular so they get recommended are also kinda ass

[nellectronic]

add “friday night parties” to the list of things I am NOT gonna miss about living in a dorm… I mean noisy neighbors were already on there but this specifically bothers me on so many levels

[elftwink]

something very funny to me is that thing cis ppl do when they have to use they/them pronouns and their brain short-circuits and they forget what a sentence is supposed to sound like and say things like "well i'll just ask they what them is doing". like what's happening here. come on man

[homophyte]

im ngl the way some ppl on this site talk abt christianity is really baffling

[memoryoflooping]

my verdict on pfq is that this sucks so fucking bad. i made my account in 2020 and only now i can say i'm having fun bc i can shiny hunt and stuff way more effectively. doing stuff like tr as a solo player sucked so fucking bad (three months ago i was on dragon tr and i couldn't fucking shiny or albino hunt. i couldn't hunt until fucking july), and i don't even wanna hunt the cool specials bc w the revamps they will just. completely change the fucking colors, so if you liked a albino or melan the way it was you might as well die. do not even get me started on this shelter systemmmm bc like wym "The Shelter should remain an incredibly inefficient way to find Exclusives/Variants, whether that be for initially Dexing them, or for breeding extras to adopt through there" like how the fuck do you hunt them then?????

[be-good-to-bugs]

yeah ok having my pronouns respectfully feels pretty fuckin good

[buriesitsteeth]

Personal ig.

[mediocreinternetuser]

doing a rant abt my uncommon name bc that’s my duty as someone with an uncommon name.

it’s rlly not a big deal but it’s so difficult trying to teach people how to say my name!! like i’m a pretty patient person; if someone’s genuinely asking how to say my name i’ll slowly pronounce it for them around seven times before i give in and just tell them it’s right. and while i go to a traditional catholic school that consists of a lot of biblical names, there’s a lot of names that are uncommon or aren’t english names and nobody has ever had as much trouble with any of those names as they do with my name. and then people, as in people with names like nicholas or sarah, get angry at me because during the past five years they’ve still not managed to say my name right but then when you do try and correct people politely they start like huffing and taking up an aggressive tone after like the third time i’ve very kindly told them that they’re not pronouncing my name right (which wouldn’t be a fucking problem if they’d stop pronouncing it the same wrong way each time i correct them but wtv). i really don’t know where i was going with this but i am just so sick and tired of people acting like i owe it to them to teach them how to say my name multiple times and that i owe them a lot of respect while they can be as impatient as they want towards me

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time. 

contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!

a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- you are here -> +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) + 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take: 

A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says). 

And now you. 

In something pink—

—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—

He’s certain, 200% sure. 

It’s lingerie. 

He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit. 

You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.

And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly. 

Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you? 

He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering. 

There’s only one way to find out, really. 

He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.

If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie. 

And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“

“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.

So you didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with. 

But he doesn’t want that. 

Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.

Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—

Do you have any idea what that does to him? 

“Are you wearing lingerie?” 

You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet. 

You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking. 

“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly. 

How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?

You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?” 

He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside. 

You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all. 

There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.

You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling. 

And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.

You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready. 

“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.

“Okay, you can look.” 

As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it? 

Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?

You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.

But—

How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?

If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—

He thinks he might have just died right now. 

Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed. 

It’s heaven. 

You’re a sight. 

While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.

And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.   

He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.

The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you. 

The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—

“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.

He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting. 

And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.

“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–” 

That’s enough. 

He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it. 

Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you. 

It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring. 

Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer. 

You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly. 

And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry. 

You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy. 

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go. 

“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping. 

“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.” 

He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?” 

You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!” 

“Yeah, but what is time anyway?” 

And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday. 

.

Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember. 

“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–” 

You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.

thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[penciltopbear]

The dc rw/by movie is not very good but kilg%re is there 👍