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satorusugurugurl · 11 months ago

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My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,682

Warning: Mentions of depression, anxiety, language

A/N: And so part one is complete!! Please let me know what you think! I plan on posting a new part every Saturday! In the mean time I will work on my brain worm fics/requests!!

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Gold calligraphy mocked you as you stared at the wedding invitation on your table. Any normal person would have been elated over their best friend getting married. The dresses, cake, looking at venues! It should have been a happy, wonderful time.

And it would have been amazing if your best friend had met her fiance through anyone other than Toji Zenin. Your ex-fiance, the man who broke your heart, who was also the groomsman at the wedding! The same wedding you were a bridesmaid in.

Life fucking hated you.

Your break up was a year and a half ago. It was tucking painful, watching the life and future you had imagined slip away. You were inconsolable for the first few months, but any other person would feel the same if their fiance broke up with them the way Toji had done to you. Part of you liked to think you were getting better; you knew you weren't healed completely.

The closer the wedding came, the more nervous and sick you got. In a month, you would have to face Toji for the first time in over a year. He was doing much better off than you. He got married! He was now Toji Fushiguro and he and his wife had a son!

Fate was a cruel bitch. He was living his dreams: a house, a pretty wife, a sweet, beautiful son. Toji got everything he wanted while you sunk into the darkness of despair. Toji had ruined you, marked you in ways you weren't sure you'd ever heal from. You never wanted to be hurt like that again. That's why you were single.

Single and traumatized. Perfect intro on your dating profile. So yeah, dating wasn't your thing right now.

Which puts you in a messy fucking predicament. You would be at a wedding with your Ex, who was living the life you had always wanted. Why was he given happily ever after while you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart? You could already see the pitiful expressions that your loved ones would be wearing, and that made your skin crawl with anxiety.

You could not show up to the wedding alone.

Which is why you were sitting in your kitchen, drowning in anxiety. You stared at your laptop, bouncing your leg nervously as you scrolled on Escorts4y0u.com. Damn, Yu Haibara, for suggesting this to you. You were shopping for a fuckin’ escort!?

You shot his insane suggestion down as soon as he said it. You had begun ranting about how even more embarrassing it would be if your family found out. First, your fiance leaves you a month before your wedding. Then you go and pay for someone to pretend to be your boyfriend all because you couldn’t bear yourself to start dating again?

Amid your nervous rant, Haibara just put his hand on yours. He assured you that no one would know that they were an escort. If they were good at their job, all your family would see was a happy couple. They would be someone to go to the wedding with, and once you paid them, you would never see them again! No one would be the wiser.

“It's their job to make you feel good and help you have a good time. And you deserve to be happy.” Haibara had said with pity in his eyes. Just thinking about his face, that expression, made you cringe to think of the faces of everyone at the wedding.

“Fuck it.” You cursed, clicking on the escort you liked the most.

Gojo Satoru, twenty-eight years old. His profile listed that he was well-educated and came from a prestigious clan. He was charismatic, confident, and kind. You read dozens of reviews. His previous clients gushed over him. All five stars, every single person he’d helped was grateful for him. Plus, Gojo was very attractive. He had pure white hair, was over six feet tall, and had the most stunning blue eyes you'd ever seen. He was the ideal partner anyone would want to take home to meet the family.

Which would explain why he was the most expensive escort on the website.

“¥120,000 for a day!?” You screeched as you bounced your leg faster, doing the mental math in your head. “That’s ¥900,000.00 for a week.” The mere amount of money you were about to spend almost had you slamming your laptop shut. But Haibara’s face crossed your mind; Toji’s face began to form before you shook your head.

Hiring Gojo was your only option. You had to do this to avoid getting hurt again. Plus, you had to use the deposit from your honeymoon eventually. It would be like burying the past!

“Okay, okay, you got this; just book it Y/N!” Getting up, you jumped up and down to hype yourself up before you hit the green phone icon and dialed the number. The phone rang once and twice.

“This is Gojo!” A gruff but cheery voice answered.

You’re sure your soul left your body as you squealed in shock. He answered!? The man you were going not only to pay but also beg to pretend to be your boyfriend?!

“Hello?” A faint hint of humor and curiosity laced the voice in your ear.

You groaned, rubbing your hand down your face with a whine. “S-Sorry, I was expecting a receptionist for something.” You put the phone on speaker before hitting your head against your table.

“Oh! My bad, sorry!” His chuckle was a deep noise through the receiver. “We put our business numbers on the site. It’s just easier for us to schedule our clients like this.” He hummed. “I assume you’re on the escort website?”

“Yes, I—I was wondering if you might be free next month for a wedding? It’s my best friend.”

“Give me a sec.” Shuffling papers filled your anxiety. “A month from today?”

“Yes.”

Gojo hummed happily, “I am free that whole week! So will it be the wedding and reception?” A pen could be heard writing down notes.

”So it’s uhm, it’s a destination wedding. It’s in Kyoto, and I need you for the whole week. If that’s not an issue or problem.”

”Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue. It’s far enough out that I can block my schedule.” He whistled happily, jotting down more notes. “So the whole week, wedding, reception—“

For some odd reason, it sounded like he was hesitating or weighing his options, questioning if he wanted to even take you on as a client. The growing fear of rejection spreads like wildfire through your stomach. You never used to feel like this; you were so happy and confident before. But after everything Toji did, what he said to you after you had—well, it left some really deep scars that still hadn’t healed. When your mind picked at those still healing wounds, making them bleed, you acted before thinking.

”I have the money!” Gripping the table's edge, you stared at Gojo’s headshot on the website. “Please, I need this!”

“Hey, hey! I’m not worried about the money, sweetheart.” His voice was thick like honey; the pet name sounded so sweet. “I’m just making sure I got everything down.” On the other line, Gojo looked down at his calendar. There was something in your voice, desperation, that was genuine.

He’d had tons of clients, and many of them needed help. But in his two years of working in this field, he had never heard such a raw plea for help. Gojo’s interest peaked. Just who were you? What made you so anxious and desperate for his help?

”Let me confirm the details so I can put you in my books, Ms.?” He waited for your name, hearing you sigh in relief as you calmed yourself down

”Y/N, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

”Y/N,” Gojo repeated, “Okay, I have you down for next month, the whole week, for a destination wedding in Kyoto.”

You were sighing happily as you relaxed into your chair. “Thank you. It’s 900,000.00. For the whole week?” Gojo cocked an eyebrow, grinning at your straightforward attitude.

”Depends, will food and hotel be included?”

“Yes, we’ll be staying at my parents' inn; they offered to host my friend's wedding. So food, money, and accommodations will be included. Plus, I’ll take care of your travel expenses.”

Gojo turned in his desk chair, biting his lip as he listened to your stern voice. “Okay, so it’s going to be ¥600,000. A lot of the cost goes to food and hotels. Since you’re taking care of it, you get a lovely discount, sweetheart.” A scoff sounded from his phone, making him smile even wider.

”Great, lucky me.”

Gojo bit his lip, chuckling. “Did you want any other additions?”

“If you’re asking if I want to include your other services, no. I don’t need sex.”

“Don’t need sex?” He perked up as Suguru, his roommate, peeked in, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

You gave the phone a confused look as if you were looking at Gojo yourself. “Yes, I’m dead serious.” The line went utterly silent before rich, stunned laughter filled your kitchen.

”Well shit, that’s a first!”

”Glad I could keep you on your toes, Gojo.”

”Nope.”

You blinked. “No, what?” Gojo snickered as you picked up your phone heading into your room.

”I’m going to be your boyfriend. You have a month, one month, to get used to saying my first name.” The seriousness of his tone made you stop in your tracks. “So it’s Satoru to you, Y/N.”

With a blush dusting your cheeks, you giggled, shaking your head. “Alright, that makes sense. Thank you, Satoru.”

”You’re welcome, Y/N. I’ll see you in a month.”

In one month, you were ¥600,000 poorer, and your nerves were shot as you searched for your fake boyfriend at the train station coffee shop. In the last month, you had spoken to Goj—Satoru twice over the. Once to book his services and yesterday to discuss where you were meeting. His company took care of everything else.

It was still surreal that you hired an escort to be your date, and you were waiting for a stranger at a coffee shop. This wasn't like you; it was so unbelievable. You sipped your coffee, looking around anxiously.

It was like a Greek God walked in. He was tall, like his profile said, over six-three. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes as his white fluffy hair bounced with every step. Straightening, you hesitated before lifting your hand and waving at your fake boyfriend. Seeing your arm raised, Gojo grinned, bounding forward as he pulled his sunglasses off.

“Hi! Are you Y/N?” You stood, swallowing as he still towered over you. God, he was dressed nice, all designer brand clothes. Which wasn't surprising with the amount of money you dropped to spend a week with him.

“Yes, I'm Y/L/N Y/N.” You handed him a cup of coffee that he took before sitting at the table. “Thank you again for doing this.”

Gojo grabbed six sugar packets, ripped them open, and poured all of them into his coffee. “Oh, you're welcome! I love seeing people happy.” Your eyes followed his hands as he poured cream into the coffee. “So, what's our story? That way, we're on the same page.” You couldn't help but smile as he sipped the sugary coffee with a grin.

“You have a sweet tooth?” Gojo hummed, taking another drink. “Maybe I'll make you something at the inn; I'm a pastry chef.” Gojo’s eyes went wide as you ran your fingers over the lid of your cup. “That’s a good story, we met at the bakery I wor—”

“You're a pastry chef?!” Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “Seriously?! What shop?!”

“Uhm, I work at Ichigo Cafe? It's in downtown Tokyo.”

“I love that place! The mochi there is the best!” His words had your cheeks burning your cheeks. “The cakes, the ice cream! Hell, the coffee is good too.”

You twirl your thumbs together. “Thank you, as the head chef, that makes me happy.” Satoru sat back, smiling sweetly. “So I uhm, yeah, that's a good story.”

“Yeah, it does. How long have we been together?”

The two of you settled on five months. That way, it was still pretty new. The whole time, Satoru nodded and added to your cover story. Thank god he was easy to talk to, putting your nerves at ear by the time your coffee was finished. Together, you were optimistic that you and Satoru could get through this week without a hiccup.

You both settled in on the train, getting to know each other more like favorite colors, foods, likes, and dislikes. Satoru didn't drink, had a major sweet tooth, and did his escorting gig full-time. He lived with his roommate and best friend, Geto Suguru, and he had a lot of free time.

You told him everything about yourself: likes, dislikes, favorite color, hell, even your blood type. But as the conversation began to dwindle, Satoru tilted his head. Sure, all that stuff was good now for the coming week, but he wanted to know more. Like why you hired him and why you ‘don’t do sex.’ That question had plagued his mind for the last month.

“Can I ask why you hired me?” His question had your head snapping up. “I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been tense since we got on the train. There's more to this than just wanting a date to a wedding.”

“Uhh, is that obvious? I'm sorry. It's just my ex-fiance is at the wedding party with me.” Satoru paid close attention to how your eyes darkened as you looked out the window. “Our breakup was a shock since it happened a month before our wedding. So, I have all these trust issues, and I don't want to date anyone. Because it's easier not to get hurt if you don't put yourself out there.”

“Why did he break up with you?”

“Why didn't he?” The tone of your voice and words had Satoru peeking up. Not in curiosity but surprisingly in anger. Satoru had seen a lot of women and men in his days as an escort. Many are desperate, lonely, and want to have a good time. But whoever had broken your heart had hurt. You in more ways than one. “There were a lot of things that he uhm—listed off.”

You quickly changed the subject, much too fast for Satoru’s liking. But he wasn’t the type to pry, especially when it came to the feelings and comfort of his clients. So he let you change the subject. And the rest of the train ride to Kyoto, even up to your family's inn, the subject stayed clear of your ex. It was bad enough you’d be seeing him soon; you would much rather not talk about him before you saw his face.

You stood in front of the door to your family's inn. Satoru grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours as you took a deep breath. “Hey, we got this.” God, you hoped Satoru was right; this had to go perfectly.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you stepped inside. The laughter and distant conversations echoed off the halls as wedding guests conversed and chatted while wandering around. You spotted your mother carrying a tray. She took one glance at you before looking away.

”Oh, Y/N darling, good you’re here. Whenever you get a chance, could you help me make some treats for afternoon tea? Everyone is instant with trying those matcha cookies you made last year.” After years of helping out, in the end, your body began to move on muscle memory, but Satoru stopped you, pulling you into his side with a grin.

“Hey, don’t just up and leave me. At least introduce me to your family first, sweetheart.” The bustling, noisy chatter around you stopped as your family and friends just seemed to notice the giant man standing beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “My poor sweet girl is already in work mode. I thought this was supposed to be a vacation.”

”Right, of course, I’m sorry, Satoru. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.”

”Eh!?”

Those sad, pitful reactions you had been so familiar with over the last year and a half were nowhere to be found on the faces of your loved ones. They were faces of shock, curiosity, and joy. A much better reaction, one that had you letting out a shaky breath you had no idea you were holding in. As you basked in relief, dark eyes watched the two of you, reading you.

The afternoon went off without a hitch. Satoru fit in with any conversation thrown his way. From what he did for a living to how the two of you met, he never stuttered or looked to you for help. He was exactly what you needed. With Gojo by your side, you knew you could get through this wedding without losing yourself in the darkness again.

You owed Haibara big time for this.

After the two of you answered several rounds of twenty questions and an early dinner, you and Satoru stepped into your room. You shut the door, sliding back against it as you shut your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that went much better than anticipated.” Satoru chuckled, setting both of your luggage off in the corner of the room.

“You did great.” His praise had you smiling more. “Seriously, this will be a walk in the park!”

You wanted to agree with him, but your mouth remained shut. That was just your family you met with. Things might be a different story when you face Toji. Because despite you not wanting him to, you knew he could read you like a book. He always could tell when you weren’t feeling the best or something was wrong. But maybe, if you keep playing your card right, you might be able to fool him, too.

”Yeah, a walk in the park.” You looked around the room, relieved to find the futon already laid out for you both. But it was missing the extra pillows you had asked for. The pillows that were going to be used to separate you and Satoru. “Huh, I thought my dad said the pillows would be here when we got to the room. I’ll be right back; the shower is just to the right if you want to wash up first.”

“Awesome, thanks a lot.”

As you reached for the door, the handle turned, startling you. Satoru moved so fast, his arms wrapping around you as the door opened wide. ��Have you ever heard of knocking before? My girlfriend and I could have been doing something. If you saw that, I would have had to charge you for the show.” Satoru started as the door opened wide, revealing the person standing in front of it, four pillows in his arms.

”You seriously think I believe that?”

Your body went rigid as you stared into the dark eyes of the man who broke your heart. “T-Toji? What are you doing here?” You learned further back into Satoru’s chest, trying to put distance between the man that had stained your life.

“Bringing you your pillows.” He motioned his chin down at them to emphasize his words. “Look, we need to talk.”

Satoru could feel your breath quicken, your chest moving faster with each inhale you took. From your reaction, he could figure out just who exactly this asshole was. This dark-haired asshole who just barged into your room had to be the ex you didn’t want to talk about in any way, shape, or form. Looking at him, Satoru came to one conclusion without even knowing the guy. He was a fucking prick.

”Look, Toji, I’m exhausted. I don't want to talk right now.” You snatched the pillows away from him. “Satoru and I were going to get ready for bed. I require some TLC tonight.” You went to shut the door, but Toji placed his palm against it, preventing it from moving.

”Please, you and I both know this isn’t your boyfriend. I need to talk to you now. Tell your friend here he can fucking wait until our conversation is over.”

The tone and mere attitude of the prick in the door had Satoru seeing red. He released you, turning you to face him, glaring daggers at the man spewing toxic commands. “I’m not a friend.” Satoru spit out the last word. In a flash, his hand gripped your chin, turning you towards him. His other hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss.

It was your first kiss in a year and a half, a kiss that was full of rage and passion like you had never experienced before. Satoru’s kiss was for show, but fuck, it had your knees buckling. You matched his pace, kissing him back urgently. His hands tangled in your hair while you fisted his shirt. You prayed that this mini-makeout session was enough to fool your ex. Satoru pulled away to glare at Toji. His chest rose and fell as he slowly licked his bottom lip with a smirk.

“My girlfriend and I were just getting ready to bed, if you caught the drift. If she wants to talk to you tomorrow, she’ll find you. Later.” Without another word, Satoru slammed the door in Toji’s face before turning to face you.

”Wow.” Was all you could manage to say as you ran your fingers over your lips. Seeing you do that while hearing your breathless voice had Satoru fifty shades of red. In his whole career as an escort, he has never lost his cool like that until he was with you.

Oh, he was fucked.

(TBC)

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stil-lindigo · 1 year ago

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You'r eunder no obligation to reply but I'd like to ask, how do you keep your head up these days considering the genocide? It's been nearly five months now, my entire family is giving up the stirke and falling into propoganda, and every time i think "surely this is the end, no way the us will keep supporting this, israel is on limited time" i keep seeing no end in my twitter feed to the countless losses, i keep seeing gore and childrens butchered on my tiktok. i dont wanna lose hope or faith but ive started feeling so depressed these days that i dont even wanna open my social media because i know what ill see. it might sound selfish but i hope i can open up my tiktok and see silly little people doing trends again instead of seeing one between 6 posts asking to use filters so that they can donate and detailing the necessities that israel banned from palestine and it just feels so soul crushing and hopeless. it makes me feel worse because if im tired of it then how do palestanians cope being in it? if you have any tips or good news id be grateful

hi anon. A lot of what Palestinians report first-hand is graphic, and horrifying, and would contribute to that soul-crushing feeling. But they are so tenacious, they have so much love for their people, their country. Often, Bisan or Motaz or Plestia when she was still in Gaza will share little slices of joy from displaced Palestinians. It reinvigorates me, and I'll often return to watch them when things seem dire.

A baby in Gaza, blessedly unaware of the horrors. Look at that smile!

A Palestinian mother makes donuts for her children, and offers Bisan one as she prepares for an interview. She (the mother) talks about how she makes treats like this to try to cheer up her children, how she keeps herself busy like this so she can't feel the grief of the situation. It is expensive to buy firewood these days, and flour. At her side, her children chip away at a block of wood to help her.

if you'd like to support people like this family, donate to CareforGaza, which directly distributes supplies and money to families in need. They have stopped donations to their Gofundme campaign due to overwhelming support, but you can still donate via the paypal link in their bio.

Young Palestinians parkour in the ruins of Gaza, to show that Israeli bombing will not kill their spirits.

Mo, a Palestinian man, buys cat food after searching for two days straight, and feeds the stray cats in Gaza.

Palestinian children at a refugee camp filming a cute video.

Although they've lost their home, a Palestinian family gather to celebrate their youngest child's birthday, complete with a small cake and a birthday hat.

Bisan makes bread in Khan Younis.

Palestinians celebrate the birthday of an injured girl in hospital, with a small cake. One of them has dressed up as a clown.

After losing 22 members of his family and being injured in a bombardment, a Palestinian man named Mohammed Al Ghandour marries his fiance in a tent.

A Palestinian journalist plays with a baby who survived an airstrike.

@/nisreendiary on TikTok documents the process of making fresh bread in a tent in a calming video.

I got most of these off twitter, from this thread. Twitter is a hellscape at the best of times, but the easy communication it provides is a blessing. I'll try to share more of the good news here, as they pop up. In the future, I recommend you follow Eye on Palestine, or Al Jazeera if you'd like to stay informed on the situation in Gaza with minimal scrolling.

#keep your head up anon #theres no losing hope when palestinians find time and space in hell to feel joy #palestine #free palestine #free gaza #free west bank #palestine support

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memorabxlia · 1 month ago

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Silent Cry ━ 여상

genre: hurt/comfort summary: will you be saved in enough time? warnings: attempted suicide, mental health topics, harassment, bullying, insecurity, mentions depression pairing: idol!yeosang x fem!reader wc: 1.3k a/n: this fic is not for the faint-hearted. If any of the topics above are triggering for you, I highly recommend not reading this. However, if you choose to proceed, you are reading at your own risk. nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

"You know, the others can't stop talking about you." Yeosang's voice is soft, tender, the way it always is when the two of you are alone. You're curled up next to him on the couch in your shared home, his arm draped over your shoulders as you rest your head on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is calming, like a lullaby.

You smile at his words, though the weight on your chest doesn't lift. The members—Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, Mingi, all of them—have been nothing but kind to you since you started dating Yeosang. They treat you like family, as if you've been part of their lives for years. But no matter how much they adore you, how many times they assure you that you're loved and welcome, it doesn't change the fact that a different kind of attention lingers on the edges of your happiness.

The fans.

You scroll through the comments more often than you should. It's hard not to. Every post, every picture of you with Yeosang, is flooded with messages. Some supportive, but too many are venomous.

_"You don't deserve him."_

_"He could do better."_

_"She's not even that pretty. He should be with someone skinnier."_

The words sting, no matter how many times you tell yourself they don't. And it's not just the comments. They've started leaking into your private messages, too. Fans telling you to end it, to let Yeosang go so he can be with someone they think is worthy of him. Sometimes, they even threaten you. Not directly, but in the veiled way that makes your skin crawl.

You haven't told Yeosang about it. You don't want to burden him. He's already got so much on his plate with the group, the fans, the media. You don't want to add to that.

But it's getting harder to ignore.

"Hey," Yeosang's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet."

You tilt your head up to look at him, his dark eyes full of concern. You hate that look. It makes you feel like you're worrying him, like you're dragging him down into your mess. You force a smile.

"I'm fine," you lie, and he doesn't seem convinced.

"Are you sure?" he presses, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"I know," you mumble, sitting up a little. You look down at your phone, your fingers itching to open the messages you've been ignoring all day. You don't, though. Not while he's watching. "I'm just tired."

He watches you for a moment longer, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn't push. Instead, he shifts, wrapping his arms around you again and pulling you closer.

"If you're tired, let's go to bed," he suggests softly, his breath warm against your skin. "We can talk tomorrow."

You nod, even though you know you won't sleep. Your mind will race all night, replaying every hurtful comment, every cruel message, until you feel like you're suffocating.

The next day is worse. You wake up to more messages, more hateful words. You can't escape it. No matter how much you try to stay off social media, it's like the negativity follows you. You start to wonder if they're right. Maybe Yeosang would be better off without you. Maybe he deserves someone prettier, skinnier, someone who fits the image the fans have in their heads.

You try to brush it off, but by midday, it's too much. You can't keep pretending everything's fine.

So you send Yeosang a text.

*I love you. I just want to say thank you for everything. For all the love you've shown me.*

You stare at the message for a long time before hitting send. You don't know what you expect him to say, but it doesn't matter. You just need to tell him. You need him to know how much you appreciate him, even if things fall apart.

When Yeosang reads the message, it immediately sets off alarms in his head. He knows you. He knows when something isn't right, and this—this message feels like a goodbye. He doesn't bother replying. Instead, he rushes out of the practice room, ignoring the confused looks from the other members, and drives as fast as he can to your shared home.

You're standing on the edge of the balcony when he bursts through the door, your hands gripping the railing so tightly your knuckles turn white.

"Don't," you say, your voice shaking as you hear him approach. "Don't come any closer."

Yeosang freezes, his heart pounding in his chest. He's never seen you like this—so broken, so fragile. He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he can't lose you.

"Please," he whispers, his voice cracking as he takes a cautious step forward. "Just come down, okay? We can talk. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't understand," you choke out, your vision blurred by tears. "I can't do this anymore. The fans—they hate me. They hate me, and I can't take it. I'm ruining everything for you."

Yeosang's eyes widen in horror. The fans? This is because of them?

"You're not ruining anything," he insists, his voice stronger now, desperate. "I love you. You, not them. Don't listen to them, please. Just... step down. We'll figure it out together, I swear."

You shake your head, the tears spilling over. "I can't..."

Yeosang tries to move closer, but he stumbles, tripping over his own feet in his haste. The sudden motion startles you, and before you realize what's happening, your foot slips, and you're tumbling over the edge.

But before the ground can meet you, strong arms catch you.

"Mingi!" Yeosang's voice is full of relief as he watches the taller member steady you in his arms. Mingi had followed Yeosang, concerned when he saw his friend's panic. He'd arrived just in time to catch you.

"You okay?" Mingi asks gently, his arms still around you as you tremble in his grasp.

You nod weakly, but you can't find the words to thank him. Your mind is still spinning, too overwhelmed by everything.

Yeosang rushes down to where you and Mingi are, his hands shaking as he reaches for you. "Thank you," he breathes, his voice cracking again as he takes you from Mingi's arms. "I'll—I'll thank you properly later, I promise."

Mingi just nods, giving you both a worried look before stepping back to give you space.

Yeosang holds you close as he leads you back inside your home, his arms wrapped tightly around you like he's afraid to let go. You sit down on the couch together, and for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

Finally, Yeosang speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"

You can't look at him. You stare at your hands, your fingers trembling as you try to form the words. "It's... it's the fans," you mumble, your voice weak and broken. "They... they hate me. They keep saying I don't deserve you. That I'm not good enough, that I'm ruining everything for you."

Yeosang's heart shatters at your words. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You're not ruining anything," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't care what they say. You're the one I love. You're the one I want. No one else."

You try to respond, but the words catch in your throat, and all you can do is sob into his chest.

Yeosang holds you tighter, whispering soft reassurances, sweet nothings, until your breathing starts to slow, your sobs quieting.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Don't apologize," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry. I should've seen how much this was hurting you."

You shake your head, but he doesn't let you argue. He just holds you, whispering that everything will be okay, that you're not alone, that he'll always be there.

Eventually, the exhaustion takes over, and you fall asleep in his arms, your head resting against his chest. Yeosang stays awake a little longer, his fingers brushing gently through your hair as he holds you close, vowing to protect you from the world, from the fans, from everything that tries to hurt you.

Because to him, you're all that matters.

❥﹒ ateez taglist: @minkilicious

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heathermooch · 1 month ago

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I really wish it was talked about more how exhausting it is to constantly have your phone selling your data on things that are so personal. My phone is listening in on my therapy appointments and getting Reels on depression. Speaking about how I’m afraid my cat may have cancer and being fed Tiktok video algorithm videos of people in hospice, their life before & after diagnosis, confessing to a friend how you’re starting to get physical effects from being overweight and now finding a slew of workout recommendations & finspo. I don’t get to be human, because there is an all-seeing group of numbers who are trying to recreate my human experience for me. Interspersed with Wegovy ads, Temu trash, the AI Coca Cola slop. It makes me and millions of other people feel alone. A product to a company I have no idea I was a line item more. Worthy only with my eyes, tracking every millisecond I watch a storytime about the worst day of someone’s life. This is not how life is supposed to be like. But hey, at least if I get more apathetic, I can be sold for another Better Help ad, self-conscious to be sold for a HelloFresh subscription, or if I’m lucky enough to be shown 15 minutes into scrolling, content from a friend so I can have the algorithm push a sponsored VRBO video of a cool experience to have with friends. Self-censorship like unalive or G@za just to get our points across so the platform can trick some corporation into believing it's a safe platform to sell on.

I’ve been deleting social media apps from my phone when I don’t use it. I “ask” apps to disable the location, microphone & camera access, which should never be a suggestion. I click “only necessary” cookies when visiting sites even if I have to press that button every time a new page loads on their domain. I avoid Facebook almost altogether due to its predilection for AI engagement bait. I stopped using Twitter last year after the rage bait & bot problem became apparent. I was asked by someone much younger than me why Tumblr feels like the old internet, and I said without really thinking about it, there isn’t a financial incentive for people to be upset with each other. And you know what, as poignant as it was, it made me realize why I’ve spent most of my time on Tumblr lately. Because I feel less like a product.

So yes, maybe it is harder to get a hold of me. Maybe I don’t post on social media like I used to. But I’m trying to find even the smallest modicum of control over and peace over a piece of technology I need for my livelihood. And I can’t believe, over 20 years after it’s mass public introduction, we still have lawmakers who feign ignorance on how the internet works to not enact true change in the US. All while the suicide rate for children rises, having thousands of professionals point to social media algorithms, just to be struck down by one billionaire cuck making a well-placed & timed donation. Say I'm preaching to the choir, talking to my echo chamber, but I'm not the one who coded the echo chamber.

#rant #personal #social media #thanks tumblr I guess?

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lightseoul · 2 years ago

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all too much (i'm sorry)

synopsis. the last person you want to see is Bakugou Katsuki. the one person you need to see is Bakugou Katsuki.

cw. depression, suicidal thoughts, depressed!reader, gn!reader, college!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~21 years old), hurt/comfort

word count. 1.7k words

Your eyes shoot open, and the first word that pops into your head is a curse. Fucking great, you think, I’m still alive.

Weakly propping yourself up on your elbow, you reach for your phone to check the time.

5:37 PM. You napped for one and a half hours. You frown, then shake your head in resignation. Better than being awake for an extra one and a half hours, really.

You wince at the feeling of your parched throat, and you contemplate whether or not you should get up and start getting your shit together. Motivation’s been getting difficult to come by these days, though, and your eyes start shutting closed again, but you startle awake when your phone chimes with a new text message.

Patrol’s over in 30. Same time?

Fuck—you forgot. You and Bakugou have agreed to spend Friday nights together to catch up and prevent growing distant. Maintaining your friendship has been a lot of work, but both of you put in the effort, and as a result, your bond has only gotten stronger in spite of the busyness that came with his becoming a Pro Hero and your entering college three years ago.

Your fingers hover over your screen—maybe you should call it off. You’re not in the mood to see anyone, even Bakugou Katsuki. Not to mention you look and feel like shit. Having your best friend and just recently, crush (because apparently, the heavens wanted to fuck you up even more) see you in this state will indubitably be embarrassing.

After a few more minutes of tired contemplation, you finally type out a response.

I’ll have to take a rain check, Kats. I’m studying for an exam this Monday.

Sighing in relief and exhaustion once you pressed send, you drag yourself out into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water.

The ice-cold liquid burns your throat and your head throbs in response, but at least you feel a bit more awake and alive now.

You’re seated on your couch, mindlessly scrolling through your Netflix recommendations on the TV when a loud knocking breaks you out of your post-nap stupor.

You don’t have the time to feel annoyance or panic over who could this person showing up unannounced at the most inconvenient time possibly be because the incessant knocking doesn’t let up. You rush to open the door and find yourself face-to-face with an annoyed Bakugou, still decked out in his hero costume.

He eyes you suspiciously, “I thought you were studying.”

You try to feign nonchalance, but you end up gulping before you can even think about it. “I was.”

Normally, at this point, you’d step aside for Bakugou to come in and make himself at home, though usually, he’d be in civilian clothes after having gone to his own apartment to clean up and prepare, but today’s not normal. He’s decorated with a few dirt marks from patrol, and that omnipresent scowl he wears is still there, albeit less prominent.

“What, you’re not even gonna let me in?”

You toe at your house slippers nervously, “I really have to study now, Kats. I just woke up from a nap to take a break.”

He frowns, “That why you look like shit?”

Normally, you’d hit his arm in fake offense before bursting out laughing anyway. But again, today’s not normal. His comment is wounding when it’s usually meant to break the ice.

“I…” you start, but resort to shaking your head in defeat. You don’t have the energy for this. “Just go home, Katsuki.”

With that, you turn your back to him and beeline to your bedroom. You end up closing the door far harder than you intended, and it shuts with a slam. You wince at the sound, feeling a sudden pang of guilt shoot you in the chest. He didn’t deserve that, you think to yourself. It doesn’t matter, a second thought follows immediately after.

Sighing for the nth time that evening, you plop on the bed and close your eyes, willing yourself to go back to sleep and hopefully, maybe, not wake up again.

Your eyes flicker open at the soft clanging noises outside your bedroom, and you immediately shoot up upon realizing that you forgot to lock the door before walking out on Bakugou.

In spite of yourself and the raging headache that’s been plaguing you on and off for quite some time now, you hurriedly climb out of bed and grab the nearest makeshift weapon in your room.

A blow dryer. Good enough.

Quietly, you tiptoe towards the door and, slowly, open it while thinking prayers for it not to creak. You didn’t even notice your shoulders were tensed up until you lock eyes with Bakugou through the crevice, the sight of whom immediately soothes your nerves despite yourself.

You stand upright, toss your blow dryer onto your bed, and step out of the room reluctantly. Under the white light of the kitchen, you can now see what he’s doing. Donning your yellow apron over the lounge clothes he keeps in your apartment, he’s chopping up green onions and other vegetables for what seems like a soup dish.

It smells heavenly, and your stomach grumbles in agreement.

“And here I was thinking you were gonna sleep through the entire night already.”

A whirlwind of emotions rushes through your body—relief, fondness, longing, embarrassment, guilt—but the one emotion you can bear to focus on, and is the most familiar, is anger. And you don’t fight it from taking over.

“I thought I told you to go home.”

The sentence comes out in a low tone, and somewhat clipped, though you didn’t mean it to sound like that. In spite of himself, you know Bakugou worries, and he definitely won’t be heading back now if he knows something’s off.

True enough, he visibly stiffens at the sound of your voice, and it hurts to see him uncomfortable around you. Another wave of guilt washes over you. Though it gets masked, yet again, with a familiar sense of apathy.

“I heard you,” he shifts on his feet, “but you sure as hell weren’t gonna cook yourself a decent meal, so I stayed to make sure you ate.”

You expected him to respond with some anger himself, but he’s uncharacteristically calm. It’s making you feel even more ashamed of how you’re acting. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating.

“Well,” you croak as you shift your eyes away from his face, “I didn’t ask for your help, so you can go home now.”

Silence settles between the two of you. It’s unnerving.

You force yourself to look back at Bakugou, who’s now frowning. “I’m sure you had a long day,” you finished.

Unable to hold eye contact any longer, you turn to head back to your bedroom when Bakugou reaches out and grabs for your wrist.

You turn to face him, ready to spit some venom you probably don’t even mean, but the words get stuck in your throat when you see tears rimming his eyes.

You hurt him.

Yet, he proceeds in a calm, but stern, voice: “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, you finally lose it.

“I don’t fucking know, okay?!” you shout, ripping yourself from his grip, “Quit pressing!”

Bakugou doesn’t flinch, nor does he step back from you. He just keeps his ground.

You took his silence as a sign to continue. “I think I’m depressed. I don’t know. I just feel like a fucking corpse every day and I hate the fact that I have to wake up and go to school and talk to people and take care of myself as if the pain isn’t there!” you cry, “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Has this been,” he clears his throat, “has this been going on for a while now?” He remains calm, though you hear the shake in his voice when he asks.

You sigh, shaking your head. Shouting drained the last bit of energy you had left in you, “I guess. I don’t know—I just wait it out until I start feeling better and functioning like a normal person again. And when I do, I start wondering if I just imagined all that shit.”

The weight of the situation and your admission finally dawns on you in the silence.

You clench your eyes shut, bringing your hands up to cover your face in shame, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Y/N.”

You brace yourself for some harsh, reprimanding words but they never come. Instead, your breath hitches when you feel a hand fall softly on your head, and an arm pulling you into a hug.

You can’t believe it—you half expected Bakugou to recoil, or even leave, in shock and disappointment, but he’s hugging you. He’s hugging you.

You can’t help it—you burst into tears. Bakugou’s quick to rub soothing circles on your back as you cry into his shoulder. You’re quickly forming a wet patch on his shirt, but you don’t pay it any mind in the meantime. You didn’t realize how much you’ve been suppressing your pain until now. It’s liberating, yet at the same time, the all-too-familiar feeling of shame is creeping in at the back of your head.

Shame over your situation. Shave over having let yourself go to this extent. Shame over breaking down. Shame over not being able to clean after your own mess. Shame over hurting the one person you love the most.

You clench your fist against Bakugou’s chest. It’s all too much.

His voice is low and gentle when he speaks up, “We’ll get you help.”

The mention of seeking help is enough to make you tense up.

“I don’t know, Katsuki,” you shake your head. “I’m scared. Of it not working out. I can’t afford treatment not working out. I don’t know what else I would do.”

You feel him press his lips to your forehead, fleeting, “It will. We’ll find a way. And I’ll be right here with you.”

At a loss for anything else to say, you mumble a quiet apology.

Bakugou scoffs, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Stop saying sorry, dumbass. I want to do this for you.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha x reader #mehehee #this basically wrote itself #pls mind the warnings!!!#bakugou hurt/comfort

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ordinary-barbie · 5 months ago

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sexy to someone - porco galliard x reader

summary: After scrolling social media you're feeling particularly insecure about your looks. Your boyfriend, Porco, is determined to convince you that you really are pretty.

word count: 2.3k words

tags: fem!reader, pet names (babe and baby), reader has a tooth gap bc I'm nothing if not self-indulgent, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), face sitting, vaginal fingering, doggy style, breast play, praise kink, consent checks, reader is self-conscious about her body and struggles with mental health issues

minors and ageless blogs dni.

title comes from the song "sexy to someone" by Clairo.

Normally you loved scrolling through social media, but you just couldn't do it today. If you saw one more vacation photo or one more bachelorette party with someone's former sorority sisters, the already deep pit in your chest would cave in. And it wasn't anyone's fault: you couldn't get mad at your friends or random influencers and celebs for simply posting about their lives. To put it delicately, you were just feeling like a steaming pile of garbage compared to everyone else on your Instagram feed.

Today you hated pretty much everything about your looks. Your tooth gap looked like an eyesore. Your eyes seemed dull and sleepy. Your nose? Meh. Your figure? Nothing to write home about. It was a wonder that anyone liked your Instagram photos at all, and especially unbelievable that you managed to snag a boyfriend, especially someone like Porco Galliard.

Porco was an absolute babe. You'd never been hugely into blondes, but something about him and his undercut had got your heart racing when you met him at a frat party that your bestie Pieck, a Delta Zeta, had invited you to. You were always pretty reserved, and especially nervous to be around a bunch of frat dudes. Luckily, Porco eased your nerves by making you laugh, and the rest was history.

He was funny, confident, and hot as hell, while you were more reserved. When you'd first gotten together, you felt like the nerdy female protagonist in an 80s teen movie who managed to land the most popular guy in school. That had subsided after five years of dating, but now you couldn't help but feel the insecurity clawing at your brain again. Porco could easily get any woman he wanted - why you, of all people? Was he simply settling until someone better came along?

You rolled over onto your stomach and buried your face into one of the couch's armrests, quietly sobbing. Why were you like this? Why couldn't you be hotter so you could look like someone who actually belonged with Porco? Porco shouldn't be with someone like you. There were plenty of cute sorority girls he could've gone after in college, including Pieck or your other friend Sasha.

You recognized (thanks to months of therapy) that you were in a thought spiral, but you felt powerless to stop it. Normally you would go on your phone to distract yourself, but since social media had triggered your insecurities, you decided to settle for a nice little depression nap. That ought to make you feel better, right?

When you woke up, you didn't feel as crushingly awful as you did before, but you were still in a bit of a shitty mood. You snuggled tightly in your blanket and stared up at the ceiling, not even moving when Porco came home from work.

"Hey babe, I'm home! Traffic was nuts today - that podcast you recommended to me honestly saved my ass from dying of boredom," Porco joked, kicking his shoes off and making his way into the kitchen.

When you turned your head towards Porco but didn't react, his cheery expression morphed into worry. "Baby, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"It's nothing, don't worry," you hurriedly assured him, not wanting to be a burden, especially since he'd had a long day at work.

Unfortunately, Porco was a stubborn motherfucker, so he kept prying. "Come on, don't do that thing where you try to sweep shit under the rug. I can tell something's bothering you. You know you can tell me anything."

You sat up, protectively wrapping your arms around your midsection and chewing at your bottom lip. "I just - why are you with me, Porco?" you asked, your voice wavering. "I mean, look at you. You could be with anyone you wanted and you settled for me."

Porco furrowed his brow. "Baby, where is this coming from? I picked you because you're funny and kind and fuckin' hot."

You snorted. You appreciated Porco complimenting you in his Porco way, but you weren't totally buying what he was selling. "Please, Porco. Gigi Hadid is fuckin' hot. Pieck is fuckin' hot. I'm just..." You gestured to yourself vaguely, making a face.

Porco scoffed, shaking his head. "First of all, Pieck is like a sister to me, so don't even go there. Second of all, yeah, Gigi Hadid is pretty, but she's not you. You're actually the hottest woman I know. I honestly feel like I outkicked my coverage here."

"Porco, stop acting like I'm some big prize," you insisted. "Especially when I scroll through social media and every woman I follow is pretty much a smokeshow, including my friends."

Porco said your name sternly, making you jump. "Is that where this is coming from? Babe, please don't compare yourself to Instagram. You know everyone curates their feed to only share the good shit, even the celebs."

"I know, but that doesn't change the fact that there's so many gorgeous girls out there, and I'm just...me," you responded, staring down at your lap.

"Hey! Look at me," Porco commanded, and you reluctantly met his gaze. "You are so desirable to me. I love you. And I wish I could fight your shitty brain for making you ever think otherwise."

You sighed. "Porco, I love you. I just wish I could see the person you see. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror earlier and just felt ugly. I hate that I can't just make these thoughts go away."

Porco moved closer to you, kissing both of your cheeks. "Babe, you are a fuckin smokeshow to me. Please let me prove it to you..."

"And just how do you plan to do that?" you asked, arching an eyebrow. You tried to look impassive but you couldn't help but rub your thighs together in anticipation.

"Like this," Porco simply replied, ghosting over your lips with his own. You shuddered, still amazed at how turned on Porco could make you without touching you. "But first - are you sure you want this? And you remember our safe word, right? Just say 'red' and I will stop, no matter what."

You nodded. Porco frowned. "Use your words, baby."

"Yes, I want this. Please touch me, Porco," you whined impatiently, your mind now clouded with lust.

"I mean damn, if you insist, babe," Porco joked before kissing you deeply. He draped his body over yours on the couch, suddenly enveloping you with the smell of his favorite cologne. It was heavenly.

Since your mouth was occupied, you tapped Porco's shoulder, and he instantly ceased his movements. "Everything good, babe?" he worriedly asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just - could we move it to the bedroom, please?" you shyly asked.

Porco smirked. "Okay, dirty girl," he teased, leading you by the hand into your bedroom. Once inside, he slammed the door with his foot, deeply making out with you and letting his hands roam all over your body. You made a motion to take your bra off but Porco stopped you in your tracks.

"Please let me do it, baby," Porco begged, and you happily obliged. After tossing your bra to the other side of the room, Porco shoved his hands under your shirt, massaging your breasts. "Man, I'll never get tired of these tits. They feel so good in my hands."

Porco bit at your bottom lip, and you let out a moan. Porco was driving you wild right now. "That's my good girl," he praised, and those four little words sent a shockwave straight to your core. "I love it when you moan so prettily for me. Now take those clothes off, baby."

That lit a fire under you. You quickly rid yourself of your t-shirt (really one of Porco's, a vintage shirt from the university you both went to) and sweatpants, standing nakedly in front of Porco except for a simple pair of black undies.

Porco let out a breath. "Oh fuck, baby. You're so goddamn sexy." You shyly smiled at him. "Now take a seat for me; I need to taste you."

You sat down at the end of the bed, gazing at Porco as he kneeled in front of you. The fact that he was still dressed in his light blue button-down, navy tie, and khaki slacks from work made this even hotter, somehow. Porco pushed your panties to the side, moaning when he saw gossamer strings of your slick clinging to the fabric.

Porco dove in, lapping at your clit with his tongue and grunting as you arched your back in pleasure. "Can't believe you think I'd want anyone else when I have the sweetest pussy right here. You taste so fuckin good, baby."

Your mind was blank, devoid of any coherent thoughts except for how fucking amazing your boyfriend was with his tongue. You were in the throes of ecstasy, grabbing at his hair to push his face even closer to you.

Porco removed his lips from your clit, eliciting a whine from you. "Easy there, baby," he said, chuckling. "I'm gonna eat you out; I just wanna finger fuck you too. Is that okay?"

Aroused, you reached for his hand, but Porco tutted, shaking his head at you. "Use your words, babe," he reminded you.

"Porco I need your fingers inside me," you whined. "Need your mouth and your fingers in my pussy."

Porco smirked, a dark glint in his eye. "Can't possibly deny you when you ask me so nicely." He returned to sucking on your clit while his fingers pumped in and out of your opening. "Babe, I can't believe you're so wet for me. I could fuckin drown in your pretty little cunt."

You gasped, feeling a warmth in your belly. You felt like you were about to burst, and Porco could sense it too. "Come for me, baby," Porco encouraged you, fingering your clit. "Make a fuckin' mess on my face."

Before you knew it, you were cumming, coating Porco's face with your wetness. Porco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, moaning happily as he licked his fingers.

"Let me return the favor," you offered, your gaze focused on the way Porco's erection strained in his pants.

"Nah, not this time," Porco refused. "This is all about you, baby."

You softened you gaze, beaming at your boyfriend. You truly did adore this man.

"Be a good girl, lose the panties, and lie on your stomach," Porco instructed as he unbuckled his belt. "Get that pretty ass of yours in the air for me."

You quickly obeyed, tossing your underwear onto the floor and lying face down on the bed, sticking your ass in the air. Porco hummed appreciatively, rubbing your butt cheeks in his hand and lightly biting at the skin before soothing the pain with his kisses. "Can't believe this amazing ass is all mine."

He got up from the floor, retrieving a condom from his bedside table to slide over his dick. You scooched farther up on the bed to give him more room, and the two of you moaned in unison as Porco pushed himself into your entrance. Porco had an average-sized cock, but what he lacked in length, he more than made up for in girth.

Porco growled as your cunt clenched around his length. "Fuckin love the way your pussy feels around me. So warm and so damn tight."

Porco pulled out of you and slammed back in, making you see stars. He pumped in and out, snapping his hips and muttering praises in your ears the entire time. You tightly gripped the sheets, feeling your body light up in pleasure every time the tip of his dick grazed that special spot that made your toes curl.

"Are you close?" Porco asked as you writhed under him. You hummed affirmatively, unable to form words anymore. "Me too. Play with your clit for me, baby. Let's cum together."

You rubbed at your clit, feeling a second orgasm about to wash over you. You came with a yelp, feeling Porco's cock spasm inside you as he spilled his seed into the condom, moaning your name. He tossed the used condom in the wastebasket next to his bedside table, and then two of you laid in bed for a few minutes, drenched in sweat and panting heavily.

"Porco...thank you. I needed that," you admitted, lovingly squeezing Porco's hand.

Porco tenderly looked at you, softly pecking your lips. "Of course, baby. You know I always want to make you feel good. And I hope me blowing your back out is proof that I actually think you're hot."

Your mouth dropped open. "Porco Galliard!" you shouted, playfully hitting him in the shoulder.

Porco snickered, but his face soon softened. "Seriously though, I'm glad I could give you what you needed. You know I love you so much, even on your bad-brain days."

You felt a warmth in your chest. Porco could be cocky, sarcastic, and crass, but he had the biggest heart. You were overwhelmed with love for this man who had been by your side through years of highs and lows, who always encouraged you and looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky.

"I love you so much, baby," you said, nuzzling into Porco's chest. He kissed the top of your head and tightened his grip around you.

"Hey babe?" you asked after a few minutes, wiggling a little in Porco's grip.

Porco cocked an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're ready for round two already. I mean I'm down, but let a man take a shower first."

You good-naturedly rolled your eyes at him. "No, you dingus, I just have to pee."

"And they say romance is dead," Porco quipped, loosening his grip so you could get up and use the bathroom.

"Okay, mister drama king," you playfully replied. "Cut the sass and maybe I'll help you get cleaned up." You waggled your ass at him before disappearing into the bathroom.

Porco grinned, fondly gazing at you even while you were on the toilet. "You're incredible, you know that? I can't want to marry your ass someday."

You chuckled. Just Porco, being Porco - and you loved him for it.

#aot x reader #porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard smut #porco x you #aot smut #attack on titan smut #tiff writes #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction

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genesisgrace · 1 year ago

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my year of rest and relaxation without rotting and ravaging

Truth be told seeing a person with healthy habits, an organised life and a graceful personality and suggesting that this lifestyle is easy to accomplish is absolutely misleading, because it's not.

We're watching short videos of morning routines created by patrick batemans. We're reading inspirational prompts and quotes from the safety of our couch. We're scrolling through pinterest creating lists destined to dust on our profiles.

I came to the conclusion that the self improvement movement can be just as toxic as self destruction and there is a high risk for developing a depression and/or OCD (failing your goals and ambitions can push you into a downward spiral of rotting and ravaging).

» visualise activites for your relaxation

take a piece of paper and write down what is relaxing for you personally without being to critical towards yourself. If someone tells you journaling is relaxing it doesn't mean it has to be for you. Take your time and take notes whenever you are doing something that lightens your mood. If sitting on a bench and watching people is your way of relaxation suit yourself. Do not choose activites only by the appeal towards your desired aesthetic.

» stay true to yourself

Stay true to yourself and don't neglect your own personality. Self improvement is not about becoming a better version of yourself, it's about finding and refecting yourself in this abyss of modern society. Please be kind towards yourself and do not misconstrue self improvement as perfection, because that's definitely not the same. Considering self improvement as a life lesson and experience is a way healthier approach.

» resting ≠ sinning

Having a long and extended nap, as a treat. Binge watching your current favorite tv show, as a treat. Have a cheat meal, as a treat. Go on a spa day, as a treat - you get the point. Please consider that habits are only healthy if they are in balance. Don't restrict and torture yourself if you feel the need to rest. Professional athletes know, that without resting there is no rising.

» It's ok not to be okay, but it's not okay to stay that way

We all have our past, we all have our skeletons. Previous experiences that shaped our personality are like pieces of clothing that are not fitting anymore but you're afraid to throw them away because of the emotional bond. Fun fact, if your warderobe is full, ypu don't have enough room for new garments. If you cannot let go it's time to clean out your clothes. I'm recommending you to seek professional help through a therapist if your past seems overwhelming or if your feeling mentally unease.

» the sixth sense of relaxing

focus on your senses before or after they are stimulated for a long amount of time by letting them relax. Try sensory exercises (for example breathing exercises), focus on something tacticle with your hands, catch the sunrise/sunset, go into a tea shop and smell the herbs, do yoga, drink water, take a bubble bath, listen to asmr or a new album. Whatever is stimulating your senses in a positive way helps to reduce stress.

Bisous!

#clean girl #pink pilates girl #that girl #self care #green juice girl #pink pilates princess #it girl #routine #glow up #feminine energy #self improvement #self healing #self help #self worth #self development

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msilwrites · 4 days ago

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The Catfish

Catfish! Reader, Depressed! Reader, Dead Inside! Reader, Maladaptive Day Dreamer! Reader, Sad! Reader, Unemployed! Reader, Shy! Reader, Morally Grey! Reader, Yandere! Price, Yandere! John Price, Obsessive, Price, Obsessive! John Price,

A/N: I’ve seen a lot of morally grey Y/N OCs out there, and I thought, why not take it further? Let’s push the limits. Let’s get into the darker side, where the lines blur and nothing’s ever as simple as it seems.

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Your life feels like it’s at a standstill—unemployed, or simply watching opportunities slip through your fingers, to depress, too weak, to down to go for it. Every day blurs into the next, doom-scrolling through social media, drowning in the curated lives of others, trying to ignore the quiet ache of dissatisfaction.

Books are your escape. A mix of romance and dark, Machiavellian stories fills your time, each one offering a temporary reprieve from the monotony and gloom. Instagram reels and TikToks flood your feed, booktok recommendations mixing with relationship advice, until one thought lingers—why not try a dating app? Not for love. Not even for a real date. Just for something. Attention, validation—some small proof that you still exist.

Dating isn’t new to you, nor are dating apps. But right now, you don’t have the energy to take a new picture, to present yourself in the best possible way. Instead, you pick an older photo—one with just the right lighting, the right angle, something that has an air of mystery. With a few subtle edits—smoother skin, slightly sharpened features—it becomes something almost... unreal. Perfect in a way you aren’t. Unrecognisable enough to be safe.

You swipe. Browse. And then—you see him.

John Price.

Something about him makes you pause. Maybe it’s the rough-edged charm, the mix of gruff and steady. On impulse, you swipe right. When it’s a match, you hesitate before messaging first—but when you do, the conversation flows effortlessly. You pretend to be someone else, someone confident, intriguing. And for the first time in a long time, you feel that way too.

Days turn into weeks. Weeks into months. You talk every night, each message pulling you deeper into something you can’t control. You never planned for it to last this long. Never expected to enjoy it. And then he asks—Let’s take this off the app. Let’s talk properly.

Panic coils in your chest. Giving him your number is out of the question—it would expose too much, make you traceable. Instead, you suggest a messaging app that keeps your identity hidden. He agrees. The illusion remains intact.

And still, it grows. You’re not just talking anymore. You’re something. His words make your heart race. His voice, the rare times he sends recordings, leaves you breathless. It’s intoxicating. Dangerous. Because eventually, he asks the one thing you can’t give.

Let’s meet.

Excuses become your shield. You’re busy. Traveling. Something came up. You deflect, redirect, anything to avoid the inevitable. But you can’t do this forever. And deep down, you know it.

So you end it.

A long, heartfelt message—apologies wrapped in regret, a quiet confession that you just can’t. That it was never meant to go this far. That he deserves better. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you block him. On the dating app. On the messenger. Everywhere.

Your heart aches. Not just because you liked him, but because you’ll never know what could have been. Because you destroyed something that wasn’t even real in the first place.

But what you don’t know—what you can’t know—is that John Price isn’t the kind of man who lets things go.

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What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t have known—was that John Price wasn’t just some “government employee.”

He didn’t put specifics on his profile. No mention of his career. You assumed, based on his dry responses and the absence of bragging, that he was just another pencil-pusher, a bureaucrat with a good-looking face, one who maybe dealt with spreadsheets and red tape. Easy to dismiss. He didn’t seem like someone who could leave an impact.

But you were wrong.

John Price is SAS. Trained to track. To hunt. His mind, to never let go.

The moment you broke things off, he didn’t disappear. He didn’t move on. He didn’t even give you the satisfaction of feeling like you were in control of the situation.

John’s mind doesn’t work like yours. He doesn’t take “no” for an answer.

You thought he’d accept the closure. That you’d get away clean, hidden behind the veil of your catfishing persona. But for him, that’s just the beginning.

In your mind, you justified it all. Surely, you weren’t the only one in line. After all, he’s good-looking, charming, and probably has a queue of women eager to talk to him. He’s the type of man who can have his pick—you’re just a small fry in the grand scheme of things. You told yourself he’d forget about you, move on to someone more real, someone better. This was just a pseudo-relationship, something that never had the chance to be anything more. So why wouldn’t you end it before it got any deeper? Before you could get attached, before he could hurt you with his inevitable disinterest?

It was easier this way, right? He’d find someone else, someone who wasn’t hiding behind a heavily modified picture—unrecognizable, almost perfect—and a name no one would ever associate with the real you. You, the woman who couldn’t even look herself in the mirror anymore without feeling shame. And you—you would never have to face the sting of rejection, the disgust in his eyes, the cold way he would scold you for deceiving him.

You convinced yourself it was the safest route, the only way to keep your heart intact.

But in the back of your mind, there was always the nagging thought: What if he doesn’t forget about you?

You laugh at the thought, shaking your head as if it’s some absurd notion. As if? You mutter to yourself before closing the app, tossing your phone onto the bed. It bounces once, twice, before settling. You let out a long sigh, then close your eyes, willing yourself to relax. A nap sounds nice, maybe just for a few hours—long enough to shake off the weight of the situation.

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When he doesn’t hear back from you, when he notices the blocks on the dating app and the messaging app, something in him shifts. He becomes methodical, patient—like a predator picking up a fresh trail.

And he knows how to find you.

He starts with the smallest things. The little details in your conversations—the places you mentioned, the books you read, the music you listened to. He’s tracking. Not just your words, but your habits. Your likes. Your interests. Each clue that could lead him to you, like a breadcrumb trail you unknowingly left behind.

He’s not in a rush. This isn’t a chase; it’s a hunt.

The longer he watches, the clearer it becomes: You’re not just a fleeting encounter. You’re the one. The puzzle he must solve. He knows he has to get close, to get past the walls you’ve built.

And he’s willing to do whatever it takes.

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John began his hunt, a quiet, patient pursuit that would leave no stone unturned.

The nickname you had chosen for the dating app—so unique, so personal—was the first clue. It wasn’t just something random, he realized. It was a key to something deeper, something hidden just beneath the surface.

He traced it. The path it led him on was winding, but it was clear and deliberate. Your image, that photo you’d used, caught his eye next. He zoomed in, examining every detail. The way the light hit your face, the angle, the soft texture of the background. It wasn’t just a casual snapshot. It was deliberate, curated. There was something about it that felt... polished.

Then, his eyes locked onto it.

The Royal College of Music. The concert hall.

It was a place he recognised immediately, and for a split second, he allowed himself a small, knowing smirk. You had been there, seated in that hall. The way you looked, so poised, so perfect, in the middle of that sea of sound, it was no accident. Your friend must’ve taken the picture. But even in that moment, you seemed so out of reach, so untouchable.

But that wouldn’t stop him.

He pushed forward, searching for more. Minutes later, his screen lit up with a new discovery—a Spotify playlist. The name was the same as your nickname, and when he clicked on it, the songs flooded in. The same songs you’d mentioned in passing. Those little details you’d carelessly slipped into conversation, thinking they were nothing.

It wasn’t coincidence.

John leaned back, his pulse steady, as he took it all in. It was a breadcrumb trail, and you had unwittingly left the map for him to follow.

And then, something clicked.

The playlist. The songs. The name.

He typed it into his search bar, just to see. Just to see what else would come up.

Your LinkedIn.

His heart skipped a beat. This was it. The final piece.

John leaned forward, fingers moving rapidly as he clicked through. There you were, full name now revealed, a neat professional profile staring back at him. Every detail lined up—your job, your education, even your location.

You were closer than he thought.

He smiled to himself, leaning back in his chair, the thrill of the chase finally rushing through him.

You were no longer hiding. No longer just a name behind a pretty picture. You were real.

And now, he knew exactly who you were.

This wasn't over. Far from it.

It was just the beginning.

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You almost didn’t go out tonight.

It had been so easy to just sink into routine—doom-scrolling through your phone, putting off responsibilities, ignoring the world beyond your bedroom. But your friends had insisted. An orchestra performance. You always loved instrumental music. It was one of the few things that could lift your mood, transport you somewhere else.

So, you dragged yourself up and went through the long, tedious process of making yourself presentable—no, more than presentable. Polished. Together. A mask, really, but one you were good at wearing.

The skincare routine, the precise trim of your brows, the careful shaving. Contouring, blending, soft touches of highlight and color to shape the face you wanted the world to see. It was muscle memory now, an exhausting ritual that took time, patience, and just the right amount of self-delusion.

When you finally looked in the mirror, the transformation was complete.

You almost looked like her—the woman in the picture you had used on the app. The confident, successful version of yourself. Not the girl stuck in limbo, unemployed, wasting time. No one would know the difference.

And for tonight, you could pretend, too.

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The pub near the concert hall was quiet, barely a handful of patrons scattered across the space. You were early, too early, and your friends hadn’t arrived yet. No sense in standing outside in the cold, so you slipped inside, ordered a pint, and made your way to one of the empty booths near the back.

The first sip was soothing, grounding. You exhaled, letting yourself settle into the moment, allowing the warm buzz of the pub to wrap around you.

And then—

A shadow passed over your table.

Someone slid into the seat across from you, smooth, unhurried. Not a stranger looking for an empty spot. No, this was deliberate.

You barely had time to react before a deep, familiar voice cut through the space between you.

"Hello, Birdie."

Your blood ran cold.

John Price.

He was sitting right there, across from you, arms resting casually on the table, watching you like he had all the time in the world.

Your stomach flipped, your throat tightening. A slow, creeping dread spread through your limbs, pinning you to your seat. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t know who you are.

But he did.

And from the way his lips curled into something almost—pleased—as if he had been waiting for this moment.

For you.

A/N: Wooo!! Maybe I’ll write the next part when the inspiration hits? I’d love to hear what you guys think though! If you have any suggestions, feel free to share—I’m open to ideas! 😊

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highoncatfood · 10 months ago

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I Just Wanna Be NICE

hello everyone HAPPY 4/13!!! which of course is the date of when one of my favourite piece of media EVER came out. and surprise surprise im not talking abt homestuck this time (maybe later)

Peaceful as Hell is an album by my favourite band Black Dresses and probably one of my favourite albums of all time and it was released 4 years ago on april 13th :]

its jst so important to me for many many personal reasons.. ive never before related this much to any songs as i do to the ones on this album....

IM A FREAK CUZ IM ALWAYS FREAKED OUT (which is where the lyrics in this drawing r from), BLISS AND STUPIDITY, PLEASE BE NICE, CREEP U, LEFT ARM OF LIFE and MiRRORGiRL all speak to me SO much and perfectly describe my everyday struggles with social life, self identity, self worth and self expression. this whole album brings me such comfort and reassurance, it made me realize that im not alone in those struggles and helped me persevere and many times gave me strength to keep working towards getting better and happier!!!!!! it also helped me not give up on pretty much everything during a Very Difficult and depressing time of my life. like. idk where i would be without this album

besdies that it also jst. describes my emotions so well. puts them into words that i could never find and makes me understand myself better :3

I LOVE THIS ALBUM and i love black dresses their music means. so fucking much to me . forever thankful i randomly found devis youtube channel while scrolling through my youtube recommended laying at the edge of my bed at like 2am on a schoolnight back in 2018. holy fuckhhhhc

give it a listen if u want cuz its SO WORTH IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#this song specifically speaks to me the most as an autistic person.... its jst so. ugh it describes the experience so well imo #black dresses #devi mccallion #ada rook #peaceful as hell #artist on tumblr #furry art #? i guess???? idk wht to tag this as at all lol #eyestrain #gadanie #catfood art

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valentoru · 6 months ago

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|| Limitless ||

[CHAPTER 8]

SYNOPSIS: Gojo Satoru, a big time artist, who’s known for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he goes. And you, the lead guitarist of an upcoming band, who’s absolutely certain that no one will ever love you. Through an accident in which you happened to kiss Gojo in a frantic state, you both decide, via convenience alone—and zero regard for both of your managers—to pull a fake dating stunt what could go wrong? Any press is good press…right?

PREVIOUS : MASTERLIST : NEXT

Three days later you found yourself stood in front of Gojo’s office again.

You’d never been there before three days ago, but once again you had no problem finding it. The staff scurrying out of it with misty eyes and a terrified expression was a dead give away. Not to mention that Gojo’s was the only one in the hallway completely void of pictures of kids, pets or significant others. Not even a copy of his album cover with the hit song that had won him a Grammy. You knew about all the awards he’d won from a quick google search you’d done the previous day. Just dark brown wood with a metal plaque that read; Satoru Gojo.

You had felt a bit like a creep the night before, scrolling through his Wikipedia page and going through as much information you could find out about him. Unlucky for you, he was reserved and didn’t let the press know much about him. Still you’d quashed yourself the feelings, telling yourself that a thorough background check could be considered mandatory before embarking on a fake-dating relationship.

You took a deep breath before knocking and then another between Satoru’s “Come in” and the moment you finally managed to force yourself to open the door. When you entered the offices he didn’t immediately look up and continued to type on his PC. “My office hours were over five minutes ago, so—“

“It’s me.”

His hands halted, hovering and inch or so above the keyboards then he turned his chair towards you. “Y/N.”

There was something about the way he talked. Maybe it was an accent, maybe it was just the quality of his voice. You didn’t quite know what, but it’s was there, in the way he said your name. Precise. Careful. Feel. Unlike anyone else. Familiar—impossibly so.

“What did you say to her?” You asked, trying not to care about how Satoru Gojo spoke. “The woman who ran out crying.”

It took him a moment to remember that less than sixty seconds ago there had been someone in the office—someone whom he clearly made cry. “I just gave her feedback on something she wrote.”

You nodded, silently thanking all the gods you were not a member of his staff team and never would be, and studied your surroundings.

He had a corner office, of course. Two windows that together must total who knows how many square metered of glass, and so much light, just standing in the middle of the room would cure twenty people’s seasonal depression. It made sense. With all the money he brought in, along with the prestige, that he’d be given a nice space. You on the other hand, didn’t even have your own office or filming booth, you just went where you were told and nine times out of ten the booths would smell of sweat and the offices would be with other people you didn’t know.

“I was going to email you. I talked to my publicity manager.” Satoru told you, and you looked back at him.

He was gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. You pulled it back and took a seat.

“About you.”

“Oh.” You stomach dropped. You’d much rather his publicity manager didn’t know about your existence. Then again, you’d also rather not be in this rooms with Satoru Gojo, have to go to shows, have climate change be a thing. And yet.

“Well, about us,” he amended. “And social media regulations.”

“What did they say?”

“There’s nothing against us dating—though they don’t recommend it—and we are free to keep it a secret. Unless of course it’s gets out then we don’t have a choice.”

A mix of panic and relief flooded through you.

“However there are some issues to consider. Any of the members of staff in this building could sell us out. Equally, if we get spotted, press may sell us out, which means we simply have to be cautious.”

You nodded. “Fair enough.”

“And I absolutely cannot collaborate with you until this is over.”

You huffed put a laugh. “That won’t be an issue. I wasn’t planning on asking you to collaborate with my band anyway.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why not? Your band does the same music as I do.”

“Yeah.”

“Then we would collaborate perfectly.”

“Yeah we may, but we don’t plan on collaborating any time soon. Plus, there are millions of people who do our genre music, and if we were going collaborate, I’d argue against it being with you. I’d like to finish the song ideally without crying in the bathroom after every meeting.”

He glared at you.

You shrugged. “No offence. I’m a simple girl, with simple needs.”

To that he lowered his gaze onto the desk but not before you could see the corners of his mouth twitch. When he looked up again, his expression was serious. “So, have you decided?”

You pressed your lips together as he watched you calmly. You took a deep breath before saying, “Yes. Yes I…I want to do it. It’s a good idea actually.”

For so many reasons. It would get Maki and Yuta off your back, but also…also everyone else. It was as if since the rumour had begun to spread, people had been too intimidated by you to give you the usual shit. The staff had quit trying switch the bands nice 2pm sessions with their nasty, horrible, life-sucking 8pm ones. People had stopped cutting in front of you at the coffee shop next door. And two different staff members had been trying to get ahold of you to potential work under your band as well. It felt a little unfair to exploit this hugged misunderstanding, but this was lawless territory and your life had been nothing but miserable for the past two years. You had learnt to get away with whatever you could. And if some—okay most staff looked at you suspiciously because you were dating Satoru Gojo so be it. You friends seemed to be largely fine with this, if a little bemused.

Except for Megumi. He’d been avoiding you like you had the pox for three solid days. But Megumi was Megumi—he’d come around.

“Very well then.” He we completely expressionless—almost too expressionless.

Like it was no big deal and he didn’t care either way; like if you’d said no, it wouldn’t have changed a thing for him.

“Though, I’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

He waited for you to continue.

“And I think that I would be best if we lay down some ground rules, before starting.”

“Ground rules?”

“Yes. You know. What are we allowed and not allowed to do. What we can expect from this arrangement. I think that’s pretty standard protocol, before embarking on a fake-dating relationship.”

He tilted his head. “Standard protocol?”

“Yup.”

“How many times have you done this?”

“Zero. But I’m familiar with the trope.”

“The…what?” He blinked at you, confused.

You ignored him. “Okay.” You inhaled deeply and lifted your index finger. “First of all, this should be a strictly in the work place agreement. Not that I think you’d want to meet me out of work but I’m worried about the press. And just incase you were planning to kill two birds with one stone and being home a date for Christmas—”

“I wasn’t.”

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t planning to ask you to celebrate Christmas with me. But also my family don’t really celebrate.”

“Oh.” You pondered it for a moment. “That’s something a fake girlfriend should probably know.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on his mouth, but he said nothing.

“Okay. Second rule. Actually it could be interpreted as an extension of the first rule. But—” You bit into your lip, willing yourself to bring it up—“no sex.”

For several moments he simply didn’t move. Not even a millimetre. Then his lips parted, but no sound came out, and that’s when you realised you had just rendered Satoru Gojo speechless. Which would have been funny any other day, but the fact that he seemed dumbfounded by you not wanting to include sex in your fake-dating relationship made your stomach sink.

Had he assumed you would? Was it something you’d said? Should you explain you’d had very little sex in your life? That for years you’d wondered whether you were asexual and you had only recently realised you might be able to experience sexual attraction, but only with people you trusted deeply? That if for some inexplicable reason Satoru wanted to have sex with you, you weren’t going to be able to go through with it?

“Listen”— you made to stand from the chair, panic rising in your throat—“I’m sorry, but if one of the reasons you offered to fake-date is that your thought we would—”

“No.” The word half exploded out of him. He looked genuinely appalled. “I’m shocked that you’d even feel the need to bring it up.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks heating at the indignation in his voice. Right. Of course he didn’t expect that. Or even want that, with you. Look at him—why would he? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume—”

“No, it makes sense to be up-front. I was just surprised.”

“I know.” You nodded. Honestly, you were a little surprised too. That you were sitting in Satoru Gojo’s office, talking about sex—not only the meiosis kind of sex, but potential sexual intercourse between the two of you. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s okay. This whole thing is weird.” The silence between you stretched, and you noticed that he was blushing faintly. Just a dust of red, but he looked so…you couldn’t stop staring.

“No sex,” he confirmed with a nod.

You had to clear your throat to shake yourself out of inspecting the shape and colour of his cheekbones.

“No sex.” You repeated clearing your throat. “Okay. Third. It’s not really a rule, but here goes: I won’t date anyone else. As in real dating. It would be messy and complicated and everyone and…” You hesitated. Should you tell him? Was it too much information? Did he need to know? Oh, well. Why not, at this point? It wasn’t like you hadn’t kissed the man, or brought up sec in his place of work. “I don’t date, anyway. Yuta was an exception. I’ve never…I’ve never dated seriously before, and it’s probably for the best. This job is stressful enough, and I have my friends, and my music, and honestly there’s better things to use my time for.” The last few words came out like more defensively than you’d intended.

Satoru simply stared, saying nothing.

“But you can, of course,” you added hastily. “Thought I’d appreciate if you could avoid telling people in the—well anyone—just so I don’t look like and idiot and you don’t look like your cheating on me and rumours don’t balloon out of control. It would benefit you, too, since you’re trying to look like you’re in a committed relationship—”

“I won’t.”

“Okay. Great. Thanks. I know lying by omission can be a pain, but—”

“I mean, I won’t date someone else.”

There was a certainty, a finality in his tone that took you by surprise. You could only nod even though you wanted to protest that he couldn’t possibly do that, even though a million questions surfaced in your mind. Ninety-nine percent of them were inappropriate and not your business, so you shooed them away.

“Okay. Fourth. We obviously can’t keep on doing this forever, so we should give ourselves a deadline.”

He pressed his lips together. “When would that be?”

“Im not sure. A month or so would probably be enough to convince Maki that I’m firmly over Yuta. But it might not be enough on your end, so…you tell me.”

He mulled it. Then nodded once. “May twenty-ninth.”

It was a little over a month from now. But also… “that’s a weirdly specific date.” You racked your head, trying to figure out why it could be meaningful. The only thing that came to mind was that you’d be in Boston that week for a charity show.

“It’s the day after my contract is reviewed. They will be deciding whether they are going to renew it or terminate it.”

“I see. Well, then, let’s agree that in May twenty-ninth we part ways. I’ll tell Maki that our breakup was amicable but that I’m a little sad about it because I still have a bit of a crush on you.” You grinned at him. “Just so she won’t suspect that I’m still hung up in Yuta. Okay.” You took a deep breath. “Fifth and last.”

This was the tricky one. The one you were afraid he would object to. You noticed that you were wringing your hands and placed them firmly in your lap.

“For this to work we should probably…do things together. Every once in a while?”

“Things?”

“Things. Stuff.”

“Stuff,” he repeated dubiously.

“Yep. Stuff. What do you do for fun?” He was probably into something atrocious, like cow-tipping excursions or Japanese beetle fighting. Maybe he collected porcelain dolls. Maybe he was an avid geocacher. Maybe he frequented vaping conventions. Oh God.

“Fun?” He repeated, like he’s never heard the word before.

“Yeah. What do you do when you’re not at work.”

The length of the time that passed between your question and his answer was alarming. “Sometimes I work at home, too. And I work out. And I sleep.”

You had to actively stop yourself from face-palming. “Um, great. Anything else?”

“What do you do for fun?” He asked, somewhat defensively.

“Plenty of things. I…” Go to the movies. Thought you hadn’t been since the last time Megumi had dragged you. Play board games. But every single one of your friends was too busy lately so not that, either. You’d participated in a volleyball tournament, but it had been over a year ago.

“Um. I work out?” You would have loved to wipe that sumg expression off his face. So much. “Whatever. We should do something together on a regular basis. I don’t know, maybe get coffee? Like, once a week? Just for ten minutes at a place where people, not the press but people we know, could easily see us. I know it sounds annoying and a waste of time, but it’ll be super short, and it would makes the fake dating more credible, and—“

“Sure.”

Oh.

You thought it would take more convincing. A lot more. Then again, this was in his interest too. He needed his contractors to believe in their relationship if he was to cajole them into renewing his contract.

“Okay. Um..” you forced yourself to stop wondering why he was being so accommodating and tried to visualise your schedule. “How about Thursday?”

He angled his chair to face his computer and pulled up a calendar app. It was so fully of colourful boxes and your felt a surge of vicarious anxiety.

“It works before eleven a.m. and after seven p.m.”

“Ten?”

He turned back to you. “Ten’s good.”

“Okay.” You waited for him to type it in, but he made no move to. “Aren’t you going to add it to your calendar?”

“I’ll remember.” He told you evenly.

“Okay, then.” You made and effort to smile, and it felt relatively sincere. Way more sincere than any smile you’d ever thought you’d been able to muster in Satoru Gojo’s presence. “Great. Fake-dating Thursday it is.”

A line appeared between his eyebrows, “why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“‘Fake dating.’ like it’s a thing.”

“Because it is. Do you not watch rom-coms?”

He stared at you with a puzzled expression, until you cleared your throat and looked down at your knees. “Right.” God, you had nothing in common. You’d never find anything to talk about. Your ten minute coffee-breaks we’re going to be the most painful, awkward parts of your already painful, awkward weeks.

But Maki was going to have her beautiful love story, and you wouldn’t have to wait ages to finally do a Cancer Awareness Campaign. That was all that mattered.

You stood and thrust your hand out to him, figuring that every fake-dating arrangement deserved at lead a handshake. Satoru studied it hesitantly for a couple seconds. Then he stood, clasped your fingers. He stared at your joined hands before meeting your eyes. And you ordered yourself not to notice the softness of his skin, or how tall he was, or…anything else about him. When he finally let go, you had to make a conscious effort not to inspect your hand.

Had he done something to you? It sure felt like it. Your flesh was tingling.

“When do you want to start?”

“How about next week?” It was Friday. Which meant that you had fewer days than seven to psychologically prepare for the experience of getting coffee with Satoru Gojo. You knew that you could do this—if you had worked your way up to being in a band and kicking your stage fright in the ass, you could do anything, or as good as—but it still seemed like a horrible idea.

“Sounds good.”

It was happening. Oh God. “Let’s meet in the downstairs coffee shop. It’s where most of the staff and well—anyone who comes here at all—goes to get coffee. Someone’s bound to spot us.” You headed for the door, pausing to glance back at Gojo. “I guess I’ll see you for fake-dating Thursday, then?”

He was still standing behind his desk, arms crossed in his chest. Looking at you. Looking entirely less irritated by this mess than you’d ever had expecting. Looking…nice. “See you, Y/N.”

TAGLIST(25/50): @bbmsxlene @lunavelha @satoryaa @tranzumaki @k-kkiana @luvkvni @lysaray @kalulakunundrum @arysbruv @r4veeen @stillnotherapy @catobsessedlady @colortheoryrocks @minzxec @dazqa @packsvlog @luvvmae @simplysm1le @mintfyi @fushism @angstmuncher @fackeraccount @astro-stars @lavender-hvze @miizuzu @rayrayline @kanaojacksonofc @letsmyy

AN:

I have so much in store for this fic I’m genuinely debating making a discord server so that I can pester you guys with spoilers and talk to you guys about stuff bc there’s literally SO MUCH to tell

ANYWAYYY aurkurad chapter🔥 Y/N WHY WOUKD YOU SAY THAT GIRL

#⤷limitless #jjk smau #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen smau #maki zenin #yuta okkotsu #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #kugusaki nobara

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eosofspades · 2 years ago

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quick n easy list of gentle coping mechanisms for bad mental health days / neurodivergent understimulation episodes!! some are more applicable to one or the other but when i'm feeling particularly like a tiger in a too-small enclosure i find doing at least a couple of these things helps me so much

drink water. basic, but annoyingly effective

eat a snack. same as above

stretch! even just some laying down stretches like pulling on your arms and knees (in fact, here's a great tiktok series for "depression stretches" and workouts/physical stimulation you can do laying down/without much movement)

music/podcasts/video essays. your favorite playlist you haven't listened to in a while, a podcast you like/have been meaning to start (i listen to podcasts while i'm drawing!)

draw/color! if you don't wanna draw, a coloring book is always fun. i actually prefer kids' ones.

read a book. i prefer physical books bc i know i'll get sucked back into the social media scrolling for hours if i try to read on my phone. i also recommend a nice tea/hot chocolate/juice with this one.

video games. this can be anything from minecraft to destiny 2, but i usually never give myself time for these, even when i have it (stuck in that phone scrolling). a more action-packed game for mental understimulation, maybe a more mellow one for a bad depression episode.

shower. i am fully aware this tends to take a lot of spoons but even just sitting under running water ALWAYS makes me feel better when i can manage it. it also helps me with adhd overstimulation!

clean/organize. this sounds counterintuitive but i actually do enjoy organizing stuff for understimulation, and cleaner workspaces help with the depression. even if it's something as simple as "put all the pencils on the desk back into the pencil cup."

puzzles/brain games. this one is almost exclusively for mental understimulation but once i get going it makes my depression SO MUCH BETTER, TOO. my niche is getting myself some algebra sheets but this can be anything from math to jigsaws to crosswords to word searches!! some kind of problem solving that engages your brain and requires focus. this one is my favorite because i find it really grounding.

playing an instrument. this is in the same vein as the last one! again, my personal niche is the piano, but this could be any sort of thing. in fact this could even be substituted for some kind of alt hobby all together, like knitting or crocheting or something! again, mostly for understimulation, but gives me the serotonin boost to get through the depression stuff as well.

this is all i have for my list, but i'd love for anyone to reblog and add their own stuff!!

#mine #long post #mental health #mental illness #adhd #adhd resources #neurodivergent #neurodivergent resources #i have been having. such a bad sad last few days and im actually SO angry about how miserable ive been feeling that i decided #to make this whole list for myself and hang it up on my desk just so i have something to do besides the endless social media/tv scrolling #and i hope this helps someone!!!!! i would really appreciate if you guys would reblog this #no pressure or anything but. if it helps

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fozmeadows · 10 months ago

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hey. i think i'm going through a phase of self-hatred and… I don't know, of believing I'm not capable of anything. would you have any tips or books that approach this from an AFAB/trans perspective so I can cope? (it's not that I hate myself for being trans. I just have insecurities, anxieties and I don't know what to do to stop most things from seeming so discouraging, for lack of a better word.)

I'm sorry you're having a hard time! I don't have any book recommendations, and I'm not exactly an expert, but:

Where possible, try to focus on what you enjoy about the process of an action instead of worrying about the end result. A lot of anxiety comes from privileging a hypothetical future version of yourself ahead of the person you are in the moment, and while it's still good to have goals and aspirations for the future, that doesn't render your present self irrelevant, because that's who you have to be to achieve them.

To give a personal example: late last year, I was really disappointed with how little reading I'd managed to get done in 2023 particularly, but also over the pandemic. I'd bought all these awesome books that I really wanted to read, but I never seemed to get around to starting most of them, and meanwhile, I was spending hours of my life mindlessly doomscrolling Twitter and TikTok, which regardless of anything else is a really good way to depress yourself about the state of the world. So I sat down and thought about it, and I realized that the problem was how much pressure I was putting on myself about reading. I wanted so badly to finish books that I was psyching myself out of starting them in the first place, because each choice had to be Perfect, lest I pick the wrong book at the wrong time and waste twenty minutes or an hour or three reading something I might later set aside. And because I'd subconsciously set the stakes for starting a book so much higher than they needed to be, I'd end up dithering and scrolling social media to delay having to make a high-pressure choice at all.

In other words: I'd become so concerned about Future Foz's hypothetical dislike of a book I was yet to start reading that Present Foz would be scared to start it in the first place. I was forever privileging a version of myself that didn't exist and likely never would over the person I was now, and it was making me wildly unhappy, because it felt like I was failing at something I loved.

So my single New Years' Resolution became: to value myself and my time in the moment. If I catch myself scrolling for too long, I ask myself: is there literally anything else I'd rather be doing right now? Could I start a TV show, or a book, or a game, or write something, or message a friend, or have a bath? It doesn't matter if the activity goes anywhere long term; what matters is that I inevitably get more pleasure out of doing something than not. My time now matters, because I matter.

And suddenly, just from that one change? For the first time in I couldn't even say how long, I've read something every single day this year. In the whole of 2023, I read just 67 books; it's now the 30th of March 2024, and I've already finished 33. By giving myself permission to start things without the pressure to finish them, I'm suddenly finishing way more than when I was telling myself I had to finish everything, and I am vastly happier for it.

Is the world still a burning hellscape that daily makes me want to yeet a solid 80% of elected politicians globally into the sun? Yes. Am I still working on self-improvement in other areas of my life? Yes. Is it magically any easier being trans and queer in the current moment? No. But it helps to focus on who I am now, in this hour, in this minute, instead of worrying so much about whether some future version of me will think I spent this time badly that I don't use it for anything at all.

I don't know if this is helpful to your situation, and if it's not, I apologize for rambling. But it's a little change I've made lately that's helped me a lot, and I hope it might help you, too.

#foz answers things #self help #anxiety #self improvement #self care #reading

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cucuumiia · 2 years ago

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Just want to say that I am so in love with your art style/OC’s story/characterization of Shane that I have scrolled your blog front to back multiple times, I can’t get ENOUGH 🥹

A while back you mentioned reading lots of good (Shane?) fic, are there any titles or authors you’d be willing to share??

THANK YOUU!!🥺;;;;;; I‘m so happy you enjoy my stuff!!!

Also yes omg let me share the fic that really cemented my terminal obsession with this goddamn depressed chicken guy:

It got everything I need man😩🤌 It hurts me in all the right ways. I love the way they implemented the Dark Shrine of Memory as the main premise. The way Shane‘s written is really close to my personal headcanon of him. Also I eat up every fic that has Shane being an actual dad in it, I have such a soft spot for this. I don’t want to spoil anything more because going in blind gave me a whole rollercoaster of emotions but I can wholly recommend this one!

Another one that I‘ve recently found contains nsfw content and is quite different from the one above but I really enjoy the dynamic between the farmer and Shane. I’m constantly checking in if there were any updates yet so it definitely got me invested:

And yet another I just discovered a few days ago piqued my interest because //shocker// it got a widower Shane👀😭 (why am I like this) and it’s the first fic I‘ve found that explores this premise and I feel so seen🖐😔 So excited to see where it’s going in the future!!:

So yea, if anyone knows some other good Shane fics please let me know!! :] (especially when it’s about him being a dad or getting widowed ) (also lmk if you also like „Memory“ as much as I do ;;; I could gush about it for hours)

#stardew valley #sdv shane #stardew shane #shane #sad chicken man #shane sdv #shane stardew valley #sdv fanfic

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13eyond13 · 8 months ago

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hello — do you have any death note fic recs that occur in the canon universe? they don’t necessarily need to be canon compliant, and i’d specifically prefer gen or lawlight. thank you so much :) your blog’s really fun to scroll through whilst putting off doing assignments

Aw, thank you anon! I quite like scrolling through my own blog too lol

And you got it, pal. I'd say it's about time I dust off my rusty fic recommending skills (I haven't been reading fanfiction regularly since probably about 2018, so these recs are not going to be the newest of the new, jsyk)...

Also, I'm ASSUMING this is the same anon who asked recently for fics a bit similar to

(X) Nights - youremyqueen [E, 400k+ words] L imprisons Light and then Light imprisons L and then L imprisons Light again. Sometimes they have sex, too.

? If not please forgive me, because I also used that as a guide when picking out these recs.

Also most of these recs are explicit and many of them are dark, so please check the tags and content warnings on the fics before reading them, just in case there's anything listed there that might be a dealbreaker for you! Should go without saying, but it's entirely on YOU if you end up reading something you're not comfortable with linked here, dear reader(s)...

CANON UNIVERSE + LAWLIGHT FIC RECS

SOME YOTSUBA ARC PWP ONE-SHOTS:

(X) Slap Fight - Shipaholic [E, 2k words] L makes a request. It gets out of hand. -(the girls are fiiiiighting...) (X) Love is an Open Door in My Ass - Shipaholic [E, 4k words] Matsuda gets very excited about an email forward. The task force despairs. -(technically meant to be taking place in the dramaverse, but you can easily imagine it as the anime/manga characters too. Rough sex but done with a lighter/softer tone) (X) Losing - Twyd [E, 2k words] L knows what losing feels like. -(depression!L is having a bit of a bad time... this writer makes L so quiet and sad and cute, and even though that's not often my cup of tea I still love everything they write) (X) Tresemme - Twyd [M, 2k words] L x Light slash. Set when they are handcuffed. Light just wishes L would dry his hair properly. He takes matters into his own hands. -(understated bittersweet fluff-smut) (X) Brilliant Bodies Disintegrate - Tartpants [E, 5k words] "L gives Light flesh made fact. L is the wayward flock for him to tend -- he’s Lucifer, the dawn-bringer, delivering light back to Light. Put bluntly, L’s the one who keeps shit interesting." -(L keeps being a big ho and making Light jealous on purpose to goad him into some rough sex-having, basically? Good if you liked that aspect of Nights...) (X)Trash Note - Tartpants [E, 3k words] "The character whose name is written in this note shall obey the writer’s every trash whim, no matter how out-of-character, preposterous, unsavory, carnal, humiliating, or cracktastic." -(if you ever want some goofy handcuffs smut that isn't taking itself too seriously at some point...)

SOME LONGER CANON UNIVERSE + LAWLIGHT FICS:

(X) Coexistence is Boredom - Sakurazukamori6 [M, 232k words] A new deathnote. A new plan for world sanctity. And an entirely misled Catholic clergy. Raito and L take their respective places on the sides of their own justice. A final battle waged in the Garden of Eden. -(This was my very fave Lawlight fic back in the 2000s, and a lot of it still holds up for me now and has a very special place in my heart even though it never actually got finished. I just love how L and Light and all the other characters are written in it, and appreciate that it can be angsty and suspenseful while still being funny and kinda lighter in tone for a canon universe Lawlight fic - it frequently makes me lol when I'm reading it. From what I remember it was the first fic that convinced me they'd potentially make a good couple beyond just unresolved sexual tension, too) (X) The Lies of Light Yagami - Kildeer [E, 38k words] “You’re pretty good Light, but I don’t see how you could hurt someone more with love than with death.” It was Light’s turn to smile as he leaned back in his chair. “Well then Ryuk, prepare yourself for a good show.” -(a bunch of missing scenes from the canon storyline, mostly smut. Very angsty and well done) (X) A Tithe to Hell - Aja [E, 34k words] Light has thirteen days to find out how it will feel--not just to kill, but to destroy. -(considered a fandom classic. I remember finding it intense and well-written, and that it also has a few interesting twists and turns) (X) Between the Black and White - Serria [M, 103k words] When L captures Light, he finds himself unwilling to relinquish his kindred spirit to the police, and instead has other plans to make Kira atone for his crimes. But the saga of Shinigami, genius intellect and old memories - BB - has only just begun. -(I haven't read it since it was new, and I don't think it ever got finished, but I remember this one being my fave of Serria's fics back in the day when I was a very fussy reader and only wanted to read fics set in the canon universe. Serria wrote a lot of great early Lawlight fics, and was my first friend in the fandom back in 2008 as well!) (X) A Cure for Love - halfpromise [M, 230k words] Light and L fall in love during the Yotsuba arc and Light's master plan is derailed when an assassin steals the Death Note. The threat of Kira is dwarfed when Kira's powers seem to have fallen into the hands of a terrorist organization known as Astraea and Light and L are united to find the culprit, but for how long... -(you've heard of the legendary Hinterland Doctrine fic series, now get ready for what I believe is halfpromise's very first fic? I don't think I actually read this whole thing so I don't know if it's finished, but I remember finding it fun to read her take on the canon characters too, and that what I did read had a pretty interesting plot and at times was quite funny as well)

#lawlight #fanfic #reccs #ask #anon #p #death note #nsfwork #ish

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