#with all the plants around in their yard

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

[moomeecore]

"is this a plant or a weed" im going to pull all the hair out of your head

[the-habitat-ring]

Baby butterfly milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa)

[charmwasjess]

🧮💩 any random recipes you'd like to share? or gardening tips mayhaps?

(signed, tumblr user count doodoo, master of burning food and killing plants)

Count-y DD, my beloved, I've been sitting on this ask forever because I LOVED it so much, I really thought I was gonna make a big recipe post with heavily filtered pictures (I used to write a fake lifestyle blog as a joke) --and I probably still will sometime when I'm procrastinating at work.

BUT I was reminded of the plant tip question as I was wandering around the complete mess of my garden after leaving it for two weeks and thinking how much of gardening is failure. It's a real exercise in trying something, it not working, and trying something differently, trying something else, or just trying again. I am a plant serial killer. If that were a crime, I would go to jail for a thousand years for all the plants I killed. But it's part of the process! You don't know what's going to work in your yard until you've experimented, had some duds, and felt out what works for your light and soil situation, and what doesn't. And of course, research is good, but the best thing is just trying - experimenting and paying attention to the results.

I think a lot of new gardeners get excited about a new plant or garden bed, kill one, or hell, all of their plants, and then get discouraged and decide they're just not good at it. This false idea that you have a green thumb or you don't. But I think the real thing is trial and error and not getting discouraged when you face setbacks in the garden. Sunflower seeds didn't come up, or they did, but then some idiot went to France and didn't water them for two weeks? Okay, there are like a hundred seeds in those little packs! Plant them again! All plants have natural lifespans, even perennials that come back year after year. Even your most successful, beautiful plants can just up and die on you and that's okay. You didn't do anything wrong, it's part of gardening.

[sandpaperoctopi]

bugs in my backyard

[starlightbelle]

Dang squirrels keep digging up the avocado pits I planted. I only have one left and it has a sprout I'll be so angry if they steal it

[icewindandboringhorror]

Misc daily life images

[corvuscorona]

healing activities include going to PLANT NURSERY & buying items such as GOURD and NATIVE PERENNIAL and "BULBS WHAT LOOK LIKE GARLIC"

[theater-of-dimensions]

I just found the cutest worm in my apple 🥺 it was a very nice orangey salmon pink and like 3 mm long

[cigaretteparfum]

some people just never experienced living in a community and it shows. 😭😭

[lynati]

I've used it for a couple years now, mostly for a project that has had upwards of thirty layers of text (and a few of art), and it handled it nicely.

So uh….some dude apparently recreated Adobe Photoshop feature-for-feature, for FREE, and it runs in your browser.

Anyway, fuck Adobe, and enjoy!

[cinematicbookworm]

My half way solution for a scare crow with out making a scarecrow was to put and old windchime and fish streamer on a metal post next to one of the raised beds it kinda works but I should probably make a better one that makes more noise to scare the rabbits off managed to scare one last night when I went and rotatilled where one of the raised beds used to be so maybe if I keep my ground moving activities to after the sunsets the rabbits will get scared and leave things alone

[noireservoir]

Juniper saplings have sprung up in my yard and they're Just large enough for me to dig up and pot for my gf bc they're her favorites aaaaand they're young enough to prune for bonsai :3c one of my gifts 4 them

[starry-bi-sky]

#battinson with chronically ill half dead teenager yesssssssss#I'm imagining that first night he brings danny to the cave and hes just internally panicking#like what do i do with this kid. where do i put him. i cant just leave him in the cave. im DEFINITELY not leaving him alone

FRRRR. Like @/that1badassbitch mentioned in the comments, Bruce's thoughts that entire time was just varying pitches of internal screaming. Which I am still wheezing at because yeah, preach. Bruce's pov from the moment Danny accosts him in the alley to him bringing Danny into the cave ranges from awkward panicking, genuine desperation to get this kid some help, a lot of heartbreak on the boy's behalf, and also just pure anger at his godfather.

Cuz like, who the fuck does this?? How dare he. This boy is a child. If it weren't for Danny's genuine terrified pleading, Bruce would've probably had a confrontation with Vlad. He would've lost, considering Vlad's power set and Bruce's lack of and Vlad would have gotten away with Danny. But he would've tried it. (Could've resulted in a spin-off au where Bruce, after losing to Vlad, proceeds to hunt the bastard down to save Danny.)

But yeah, I absolutely, delightfully agree that Battinson is just. internally panicking the entire time. From the rooftops, to the car, to the driving all the way to the cave -- which, after a quick google search, is apparently in an abandoned train depot in Batman (2022). Which is fascinating to me, but I digress. His internal monologue consists of cussing out Danny's godfather, trying to figure out what the poison is, a repetitive use of the word "FUCK", and him going "keep him awake keep him awake keep him aWAKE--"

But like, in a more Bruce Wayne fashion.

Danny is curled up in the passenger seat beside him and Bruce keeps intermittently checking on him every few seconds. Danny just looks like shit, man. Poor kid has a seemingly unending bloody nose, he's coughed a few times already and each time sounds like its shaking through his lungs and taking a piece out. His breathing is hollow, quietly raspy, and Danny sounds like he's gasping each time he breathes in. He's pale, clammy and sweating, but trembling, and his eyes are glazed over, unfocused, and half-lidded.

Dealer's choice here but I'm very amused but also fond of the idea that Bruce, in an attempt to do anything to soothe this kid, panic-clips off his cape and kinda just. throws it at him. Cringes, then awkwardly tries to adjust it so it's laying over him like a blanket.

It works though! Danny, through his haze, cracks a smile at him before grabbing the cape and practically curling around it. He seems to visibly relax, and Bruce silently slumps with relief that his idea worked. I also think he tries to painfully make some sort of small talk but frankly the only valid form of "small talk" he knows is interrogation. Danny's too out of it to mind though.

Bruce asks him if he knows what his godfather used to poison him.

("Blood Bl'ssom.") ("What is that?") ("A k'nda plant. Issa type o' rose.") ("Where can I find one?") ("Y'can't.") (And hear Bruce's blood chills for a moment. "What do you mean?") ("Blossoms went extinct in th- in the 1600s.") ("What? How is that possible? How'd your godfather get his hands on one?") ("Science.")

He also learns that the poison is, horrifyingly, cannibalistic, and Danny reassures him that he kinda stopped feeling the pain a few hours ago. Then he gags on nothing and spirals into an ugly coughing fit. "...Mostly." He adds on.

I have this very vivid mental image of Battinson screeching to a stop in the cave, Alfred's off to the side messing with some prototype gadgets. Bruce's side door swings open and Alfred's in the middle of snarkily asking if he's decided to get a reasonable amount of sleep tonight, only to immediately eat his tongue when Bruce beelines to the other side of the car and frantically pulls a waifish victorian kid with the tuberculosis blood cough to match out of the passenger's side.

("Dear god, what happened!?") ("His godfather poisoned him. I need towels and every medical device we have in here.")

The few photos I could find of the Battinson Cave did not imply there was a gurney in there, so Bruce uses on of the metal tables. He uses one arm to swipe off all the stuff on there onto the floor before laying Danny down.

It's. a very stressful time! That's for sure. Bruce is stuck between trying to get some form of antidote or at the very least a neutralizer to the blood blossom extract made, and also reassuring Danny that he's going to be fine. He's out of his depth.

They do get Danny stabilized though! How? Uh, I hadn't actually been able to think of how up until now, and this is just me trying to throw together an idea up on the fly. But Bruce like, manages to make some kind of 'antidote' that doesn't completely kill the blood blossom extract, but it makes the poison at least forcibly slow down.

[Forced to put a read more because this got SO LONG. oops]

"like what do i do with this kid. where do i put him. i cant just leave him in the cave. im DEFINITELY not leaving him alone" <<< is his sudden internal crisis after Danny's stabilized and passed out on the table. Giving him back to his godfather is completely off the fucking table, and Bruce can't give him up to CPS because there's a risk that he'll also return to his godfather.

He ends up, unsurprisingly to all of us, on deciding to keep Danny with him for the time being. At least until they can get his godfather behind bars. And you're right! Danny can't stay in the cave -- it's a half-furnished, rundown train depot. There's a tetanus shot waiting around each corner. It's Bruce's (reluctant) idea to take him up to the manor.

So Danny wakes up in an incredibly gothic guest bedroom, not feeling 100%, but also not feeling like total death like he did yesterday. He can still feel the blood blossom in him -- it leaves a joint and muscle soreness throughout his whole body, and when he breathes there's a weight there.

His confusion over where he woke up -- because it's very much not Vlad's place -- is overshadowed by his frank awe. You can't tell me he hasn't developed an appreciation and fondness of gothness due to his friendship with Sam. He might not be into it like Sam is, but he can appreciate the beauty when it's right in front of him.

#and hes got that awkward silent staring thing going on. Danny's trying not to die and vlads not there anymore#so hes unbothered by it really

Bruce pulled up a chair next to Danny's bed in the manor and didn't move a single inch the entire time. Just. sat there and stared to make sure the kid didn't stop breathing in the middle of the night. Probably has some facial recognition scanner going to try and figure out Danny's last name -- whether that works or not is dealer's choice frankly.

Either way, Danny turns his head to the left and nearly jumps three feet into the air when he sees Bruce and his 'stares into your soul' blue eyes. Sends him into a minor coughing fit by accident. Battinson very awkwardly and quietly apologizes. danny kinda just waves him off.

That's a whole conversation I'm not gonna go into, but to sum it up Bruce asks how Danny's feeling, and Danny tells him that he feels better, but he can still feel the blood blossom poison. So whatever he did, didn't get rid of all of it. (He's still incredibly fucking grateful nonetheless)

cue that "getting to know you" interrogation stuff.

(Danny can probably keep the full extent of his halfa status a secret from Bruce at first, but he is forced to tell Bruce about the ectoplasm running through him since it's the only reason the blood blossom toxin even works on him. Which results in him telling him a.. slightly omitted version of why he even has that in there in the first place.)

(Maybe he reveals that he was a hero in order to convince Bruce to let him out on the field rather than being just support? I've got ideas and fortunately your tags will help me delve into them)

#alfred pretends to be exasperated that bruce kidnapped a kid but honestly hes relieved#maybe being responsible for someone else will make bruce more responsible for his own health

no notes. just know that i'm wheezing at this. my friend @kingcrow01 had Alfred essentially reacting the same fucking way.

#the media would eat it up are you kidding??? the reclusive prince of gotham seen with a mysterious child???#and theyve both got that sickly pathetic wet cat look to them what with bruce constantly being injured and danny being chronically poisoned

FR! I love social media shenanigans and I love seeing it in fic (Lex Luthor's Ascent From Supervillainy To Fatherhood is a really good example of it imo), although i'm not too good at making it myself. Imagining how twitter in-universe might react to photo evidence of Danny with Bruce is going to fuel my desire for seeing people's reactions to things for ages. I am delighted to imagine that dumpster fire. The in-universe memes, guys.

Nobody has any clue what this mysterious Wayne child looks like for the longest time because Danny follows Bruce's lead and dresses in Anti-Paparazzi Recluse Fits. Mostly because he's the godchild of an equally reclusive and influential billionaire figure, and I imagine Vlad would pitch a media fit trying to find his poor, beloved godson.

Can you imagine the fucking SCANDAL if people found out that Vlad Masters' godson ran off and was currently living with recluse Gotham Prince Bruce Wayne? The tabloids would eat this shit up. It's a three-course meal that's paying their rent for the next three months. That's not even to say what Vlad might do upon finding out Danny's whereabouts.

So yeah, photo evidence of Danny only has shots of him wearing a large hoodie, one of Bruce's jackets, and a medical face mask and a hat. It doesn't hide any of the Sickly Pathetic Wet Cat look, if anything it enhances it. But you can see his bright 'staring into your soul like the oracle of delphi' blue eyes, and the black curls plastering his face, and his pale skin.

In some photos, as blurry as they are, Danny appears to be leaning into Bruce's side, seemingly using him as a support. The "antidote" (medicine?) Bruce created that first night was effective, but it wears off eventually. Before they make his medical bracelets, the both of them agree to use the antidote Bruce made to stave off the worst of the poison.

These photos are taken around the times the antidote was wearing off or had worn off, and the toxin was taking itself out of the backseat and shifting back into high gear. Despite that, Danny managed to convince Bruce to let him tag along on whatever shopping run he was on.

Someone took one of these photos and captioned it "Pathetic Wet Cat and his Sickly Pathetic Wet Kitten" and posted it on SMS. It got numbers.

Oh my god, I just thought of this but when Battinson is finally cornered by reporters asking him about Danny he does this:

he internally panics, and then with a straight face says "i don't know what you're talking about. i don't have a son." and then he Flees.

(this blows up in his face because the reporter he responded to never asked him if Danny was his son, they asked him who the boy seen with him was. Bruce is trending on twitter before he even makes it home. He's mortified. There's potential here for a scene between Bruce and Danny where they have that long-awaited 'are we family?' conversation.)

#i know everyone's focusing on danny working as a hero with batman and his relationships with dick and jason and everyone as the older siblin#but im still stuck on early days batman with a teenager to care for and how that dynamic is going to be SO DIFFERENT#than that same bruce with a 9 year old Dick. like the circumstances are so different and hes never bat-dopted a kid before this

NO BECAUSE YOU GET IT. YOU GET IIIIT! I fucking love older brother danny, however the biggest appeal of the "eldest son danny" idea is in fact how he and bruce's relationship would have to play out in order for that to happen. You could argue that Danny could be an 'older brother figure' to the Robins and still not have any familial affiliation with Batman, but the fact of the matter is, simply? I want that familial affiliation with Bruce. I want to see how that would play out, and how it would develop.

I am. a scientist prodding a little glass stirring rod at the potential family dynamic of Bruce Wayne and Danny Fenton and going, in complete wonderment and awe, "wow. fascinating. how does that work? how did you happen? what made you? how can i do it again?"

I also think there could be something fascinating over the fact that Bruce Wayne watched his parents die in front of him, while Danny's parents don't even know Danny died at all. A (once) child with dead parents, and a dead child with living parents. I think there's something to be explored there, I just haven't yet figured out what.

And yeah! a teen is completely different than an 8 year old. They're in very different developmental stages in their life, and that's not even addressing their lifestyle differences. When I made this prompt I mentally kinda just placed the death of danny's parents as having happened a few months ago. To me, it feels like enough time for Vlad's temperament to escalate from bad to worse, and for him to actually cook up that blood blossom toxin.

Danny's at a different mourning period compared to Dick, who was brought in while it wasn't even a day old. Maybe Danny hasn't had much time to mourn his family as much as he's wanted because he's been stuck in survival mode living with Vlad, and once he feels secure with Bruce he can finally tap into that grief he's been keeping on the backburner.

Lots of things to explore that can adjusted and changed as needed! Very flexible.

All in all though, I am a sucker for found family and in order for Danny to have family in Dick and the others, he needs to find it with Bruce.

#and this one has a crazy demon murder godfather and poison blood and a history of punching otherworldly apocalypse-creatures#into another dimension. no parenting book will help.

no notes here other than yeah, agreed, wheeze. The good news is that he doesn't need to be completely afraid that those otherworldly potential-apocalypse kickstarters will show up at any random point, Because, imo, Danny shut down and destroyed the portal before he could be shipped off in order to prevent anyway (cough-the GIW-cough) from accessing it. Vlad's the only one with a working portal currently and he's not as careless as the fentons are as to keep it open willy-nilly.

now the only thing he needs to worry about is the crazy demon godfather and the flora-boros blood toxin in his son's veins! whoo.

#and like yeah danny will want to help gotham and save people#but honestly? with his new limitations and no expectations from a previous robin do you think he would do it the same way?

I love this question! because honestly when I was initially expanding on this idea on my own, my initial answer was "no" due to the toxin's limitations. I had the same idea as you where Danny takes on a more 'oracle' role where he's not out in the field, but he's still helping behind the scenes. I was torn between "logically would this happen" as well as "chronically ill people aren't delicate flowers, they can do things" and a little dash of "okay but i really want nightingale out in the field"

In the end I decided that I liked the idea of Danny actually out with Bruce, and that as a result there would need to appropriate consequences and drawbacks for this decision.

#idk guys he fights ghosts because no one else can#i think he'd probably play a much more supportive role. at least at first. << you're totally right, too. And Danny's motivations for wanting to help in Gotham would have to be different than in Amity Park. Oooo this has good character growth potential.

Danny helps Amity Park out of a sense of obligation right? Like obviously it's also because he's a good person, but ultimately it kinda comes across as an obligation. He's the only one who can, so he's the one to do it, despite the fact that throughout the show he's shown to want that normal life. There's guilt there if he doesn't do anything; he has the power to stop this, so why shouldn't he?

(Oo, doesn't that sound kinda familiar? Guilt over something he ultimately has no control over, but thinks he could have?)

So! For him to choose to decide to rejoin the hero life, and not just from behind the curtain, feels like a pretty big character decision to me. Especially because now, he doesn't really have the power to help. Not like he did before.

He's sickly, essentially powerless because using his powers speeds up the toxin, and equipped only with his wits, his creativity, and whatever fighting skills he may have acquired during his time as Phantom -- and whatever martial arts prowess the author decides to have Maddie pass down to Danny.

He's not doing this because he feels like he has to, but because he wants to. I think that's pretty cool.

You reminded me that ideas can be combined too! It's dealers choice for anyone who wants to throw their hat into the ring in how Danny decides to join the frontline fight.

I'm going to kinda contradict myself here but one of my ideas for Danny going from behind-the-scenes to in-your-face-scenes is just. Batman needing backup for a fight. I'm not going to go into specifics for who he's facing, because frankly i'm not sure myself, but he needs backup.

And Danny, who likes to sit in the cave more often than not, waiting for Bruce to come back, sees this through whatever cameras are available. He's stressed out, worried for Batman's safety. This could be a good catalyst for the overarching subplot of him rejoining the hero scene as well as hey, maybe realizing that he doesn't need his powers to help people.

Danny's warring with himself about what to do. Trying to soothe his anxieties by reminding himself that Bruce is an incredible fighter and good at getting out of tight spots, telling himself it would be fine. Rebuffing the little voice in his mind saying he should help by telling it that he might make things worse. And when his subconscious tries to tell him that he can help, he rebuffs it by saying does he need to?

And there, right there, is what's been playing on repeat for however long it takes for him to become nightingale. Every night: "I can help, but do I need to?" and during this night is when he has an epiphany; "No, but I want to."

it's like the sun peaking through the clouds after weeks of gray skies. He wants to help. He can help, but not because he should or because he's able to, although that is important, but because he wants to.

So he finds where Bruce hides the face paint, smears what he think is an adequate amount on his face -- it looks almost mask like. And hunts down one of the spare utility belts -- he ends up having to wrap it around his shoulder and torso like a bandolier due to how tall Bruce is and how willowy Danny is. he already has a hoodie on, and pulls it up over his head. And fuck it, i'm calling down the Rule of Cool Law. Danny finds one of Bruce's spare capes and tears it up to make a makeshift scarf to better hide his face. He gets some other tools he needs that he knows Bruce uses, and then he's off.

(Bruce is both very shocked and very upset when Danny comes crashing through the ceiling with a faux-confident; "Hiyo, B! You're looking pretty bat-tered, so I thought I'd come in and give a helping claw!")

(Results in what I think is a very funny post-fight conversation where they have something of a hissed argument in front of the half-conscious criminals. "what are you doing here?!" "i wanted to help!" "where'd you learn to fight like this?" "mom taught me" -> which causes a fucking BUZZ in the criminal underground when word gets out.)

there's conflict. argument over bruce not wanting danny to come out to help him. Until danny eventually wins out in the end by pulling up footage of phantom on the batcomputer, revealing his previous hero status, and pure damn stubbornness. Bruce agrees but only after he updates Danny's self-defense and gets him a proper suit.

#alfred cant handle TWO wet rats getting beat up every night lol

singling this out because it's funny and you're rIGHT.

#danny innovating new and better bat gadgets. making good humanitarian use of the wayne money in ways that would make sam proud. #making sure alfred isnt the only thing standing between bruce and bruce's death at the hands of the city he loves

Danny's bambi eyes are lethal work, and Alfred's favorite employ whenever Bruce is being stubborn. Even after rejoining the active hero scene, Danny will still team up with Alfred to drag Bruce to bed or rest. Excuse you, don't make the same mistakes he did! He's the elder hero here!

Danny churns out so many anti-ghost gadgets for Bruce for the inevitable confrontation with Vlad, along with non-ecto gadgets just because he wants him safe. It becomes an unusual bonding experience for the both of them to come up with gadget ideas together and then figuring out how to make it work, and then building them together.

Vigilante equivalent of helping dad in the garage except you're both fixing the car and telling the other to grab them the 3/5th quarter-inch flathead screwdriver from the toolbox.

Danny is delighted to have someone to bounce ideas off of with, as does Bruce.

For the good old "fights are one of the ways ghosts socialize" trope: They have regular training sessions, but it's Danny who asks if they could sometimes just have some for-fun sparring sessions. Then has to very embarrassedly explain to Bruce that it's just something ghosts do with each other to socialize sometimes.

Bruce reads between the lines and sees it for what it is: play fighting. Danny's asking to play fight. There are no parenting books on taking care of a half-ghost teen, but he immediately thinks on a documentary on lions he saw a while ago and agrees.

These play fights more often than not result in Danny being tossed around like a ragdoll and loving it -- he's light as feathers and being thrown up into the air feels like he's flying again. Something he can't do anymore for obvious reasons. Plus the ghostly bonding thing.

I don't have much to add about the humanitarian use of wayne money thing, i agree. It also makes Bruce proud and could help inspire him to start getting more involved with Wayne Industries so he can start using his parents' company for humanitarian use as well.

#MAN imagine the fluff of danny learning to decipher bat grunts#if anyone has experience seeing past the crazy obsessive seemingly single minded focus of a parental figure and to the real love and care#that exists so deeply and truly under and throughout it all it'll be danny

aaaaaa, man you're so right. i was talking to crow about this but, for context, the idea was that Nightingale has a tendency to sometimes bite his opponents. And it's become something almost like a signature surprise move because he has Ghost Fangs, but the first time this happens its during some kind of gang fight between B, Gale, and a handful of goons.

However, the fight halts to surprised stop when one of the guys shrieks out; "OW, HE BIT ME!" and like a spell, everyone turns, flabbergasted, towards the guy who said it. Because what the fuck did you mean he bit you, wHY IS HE BITING.

And there, hanging off the guy's arm with all the smug self-satisfaction of a cat, is Nightingale, with his fangs still chomped down onto the guy's arm. There's a few seconds of silence, long enough for everyone to see what's going on, before Gale reorients his momentum and kicks the guy square in the jaw; knocking him out cold.

The thing that catches everyone's attention is that Nightingale drew blood. They watch, half-terrified, half-baffled, as the kid scrunches his nose up, wipes at his mouth, and makes a noise of disgust. He turns to look at Batman, who has also stopped what he's doing to stare as well.

Nightingale asks him; "Am I gonna have to get checked for this?"

Rather than deign him with a response, Batman remains silent. They stare at each other for three whole seconds, before Nightingale clicks his tongue like Batman had said something he didn't like, but expected.

"Aw, okay." Then without missing a beat, he turns and launches himself like a feral cat at the closest person next to him, and the room descends back into chaos once more.

Man, I'm just imagining them working next to each other on their own personal project, and Danny will quietly ask for Bruce's opinion on something. Bruce gives him a single grunt, and Danny's silent for a moment, contemplative, before muttering something like "huh, i guess you're right" or "oh, good idea."

Danny eventually adopts Bruce's little "hrm" quirk himself, and it slowly goes from: "hey, what do you think about this?" "hrm" "that's what I thought too" to: "..hmn?" "hm."

The ever consistent urge to make Your Blorbo The Most Specialist Character On The Block Ever is forever a plague of mine, and I'm very tempted to say that Danny is the only other kid except Cass who can do the "hm?" "hn" thing back to back with Bruce. Don't get me wrong, the other batkids can do the "Hey X thing" "hm" "okay" thing, and on some level can do the "hm" "hm" thing too, but they can't do it quite to the same extent as Danny can, and its from those years where it was just the two of them.

but yess!! I agree! Danny's got experience with that kind of obsessiveness, Bruce reminds him a lot of his parents that way and he understands it the best out of all his siblings as a result. It also means, however, that he willingly goes in to drag Bruce out of whatever obsessive rabbit hole he's fallen into, if he feels that Bruce has been too hyperfocused on something. He saw it with his parents, and it ended up killing them. He's not losing another dad because of his foolish tunnel vision.

#bruce is so much quieter than his parents but man if danny doesnt understand him. and maybe bruce comes to learn what dannys used to as well#comes to learn to speak his affection and open up so much more. to make danny feel more comfortable and welcome

AGAIN, NO NOTES. This is perfect and yes. I've got nothing to add.. okay I lied, i just needed a moment to think. Bruce isn't the most physically affectionate person, but he starts to be thanks to Danny, who is very tactile. Same thing with verbal praise, Danny hardly got any of it in school or, regretfully, at home since Jazz tended to get all the praise.

Bruce tells him "good eye" once after Danny spotted something before Bruce did, and Danny preened so brightly Bruce genuinely wondered if stars were going to appear over his head. He'd gotten his hands on video footage about Phantom that had shown him doing that exact same thing.

(oh which reminds me. The moment Danny tells Bruce about his previous hero experience as Phantom, Bruce goes on a research helldive to get his hands on everything about it. He's watched every single video showing Phantom. There were very few videos of Phantom that weren't videos of his fights, which were horrifying to watch on multiple levels.

Including but not limited to the fact that ghosts could apparently survive the most lethal of injuries, and he was never going to get the image of Phantom yanking a steel pipe out of his chest out of his head, or him pulling out a broken chunk of glass from his throat.)

(It was even worse seeing videos of Danny's parents shooting at him. That was a long, uncomfortable conversation.)

Another time Bruce is asking Danny about being a ghost, and Danny wistfully tells him that the thing he misses most is flying. Grappling through the city is the closest thing to it, but it's still fundamentally different -- and in some ways more exciting -- than flying. The closest comparison he could give is an indoor skydiving ring.

Bruce, a week later, rents out an indoor skydiving ring for the day and Danny spends hours inside the wind tunnel. He tells Bruce all about the similarities and differences in the car on the drive home, and then tells him that next time Bruce should try it too.

Just, all-in-all, seeing how these two interact and impact each other is what makes this so appealing to me. Especially with early years Batman. And I had so much fun typing all this out, thanks for the opportunity to infodump haha.

#UGH OP THIS POST TT-TT

AH YOUR TAGS <33

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[gracieheartspedro]

You Really Got Me Now

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5.2k words

description: your best friend and roommate eddie is pissing you off, per usual. his way of making you feel heard is not very conventional.

warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, no use of y/n, roommate au, lowkey pwp, best friend!eddie, reader and eddie are both in their 30s, a bit of force proximity, reader is awkward as fuck (she just like me), reader hasn't gotten dick lately, mentions of voyeurism (eddie and reader have listened to each other having sex), kind of dom!eddie, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, lots and lots of dirty talk, eddie cums in reader.... annoying ass neighbors?

authors note: yeah i don't know. i'm just horny for this man. all of the time. thanks to lindsey @amanitacowboy who CONSISTENTLY feeds into my delusions. love u.

how to help palestine ~ dividers by @cafekitsune

He pissed you off for the fourth time today. 

You had spent most of your day doing yard work, trying to ensure the home you two shared did not look overgrown for your snooty neighbors. They already hated that there was an unmarried couple living next to them. Even worse they were not even a couple. 

Eddie and you had been friends for over a decade. When you two could not find someone to settle down with once you both turned 30, you decided to rent a house together. You were sick of living at home with your parents and everyone else around you was in love. Steve had Kira, Robin had Vicki, and well… you had Eddie. Eddie had you. But not in a romantic sense. 

That’s what you two told yourselves, at least. 

Made crystal clear years ago, you and Eddie knew your friendship meant more than some knee jerk desires. You had kissed once, and you would be lying if you said you did not enjoy it. He was tentative, kissing you like he was trying to melt all your worries away. At the time, it was a desperate attempt to distract your mind from a shitty break up and Eddie had gotten a bit too high. 

That next morning, you sat down with him and discussed boundaries. No kissing, no sex. That was the hard line, and for years, you two had kept that promise to yourselves. 

There had been moments. An evening out with friends where you two would dance all night together and when you parted to go to your separate rooms, you would linger in the hallway just staring at each other. No one ever caved because you both knew you would regret it in the morning. Or the tense nights where one of you said something to rub the other person the wrong way. Sometimes it would turn into you two apologizing in the dimly lit kitchen, hugging and swaying near the flickering oven lightbulb. 

Today was going to be one of those days for sure. Everything he did rubbed you the wrong way.

He had not done the dishes last night, deciding to stay up late and drink himself into a deep slumber. When you woke up, wrapped in your falling-apart-at-the-seams robe and saw the dishes, you wanted to throw an empty beer bottle at him. But you didn’t. You just did them and didn’t say a word.

Then there was leaving his wet clothes in the washing machine. The moment your nose got a whiff of the despicable scent of molding clothes, you slammed the top down and groaned his name. He was not even in the house, deciding as soon as he woke up that he needed to go get a pack of cigarettes from the gas station. 

Then there was him being adamant about washing his van with the hose you were trying to use to water the dying plants in the flower beds surrounding your front door. You just grit your teeth, jerking your head into a nod when he asked for it. 

Now here he is, making you mad again as you sweat all of your body weight over some weeds. 

“I’m having some of the guys over tonight for some burgers-” “No.”

He narrows his eyes at you, swatting a gnat away from his face as you place your hands on your hips. 

“Why not?”

You had a list. A big long list. The house was a disaster. The neighbors called a noise complaint last time. The grill needed propane.

This was the tipping point. “Eddie, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you in our front yard,” You blow up, throwing off your gardening gloves, “You haven’t done shit for this house in months. I am like your own little personal housewife. I am the only person in this house that keeps it nice and clean. I haven’t had a night out in months because I am using my weekends to keep up with this shithole. I haven’t had a guy over in over a year, for fucks sake! No guy wants to fuck a girl who lives with a shitty roommate who can’t even clean. I need… I need your help.” 

His demeanor shifts, his shoulders slumping a bit. You did not mean for the word vomit to come out like that. You sounded vicious, but all of it needed to come out at sometime.

“Sweetheart-” But you do not want his excuses. You wave him off, storming towards the front door and swinging open the glass door, letting it shut behind you. You needed cold A/C on your face. You were about to pass out from anger and heatstroke. Damn Indiana summers. 

Eddie launches the door open, practically chasing you down to the kitchen. You stand under a vent, tilting your face directly towards the line of air. 

“What do you need my help with?” He asks, a slight arrogance in his tone. 

You don’t even look at him. You just hum as the cold air caresses your face. “The dishes. The laundry. Fuckin’ clean a toilet-”

“And what about guys not coming over?”

You finally tilt your head over at him, confused. “Huh?”

He looks at you with this fire in his eyes that you have almost never seen before. Maybe once or twice when one of his ex girlfriend’s said something based. He did not seem angry, per se, but he seemed agitated.

He crosses his arms over his chest, covering the Metallica logo on the front of his black tank top. His arms are toned and sprawling with randomly harsh lined tattoos. You had to thank Steve for the toned muscles as he was forcing Eddie to lift weights with him twice a week. You are definitely seeing the results. 

“You said no guy wants to fuck a girl who lives with a shitty roommate,” He states plainly, leaning against the kitchen island, “How am I supposed to help you with that?”

It’s like he’s trying to hint at something. Eddie was notorious for not saying what he really wanted to say, just simply talking around the subject. 

“Let me have a night off where I’m not cleaning up after you. Maybe I can bring a guy home.”

He cocks his head to the side, pursing his lips as his eyes take you in your sweaty clothing. You had sweat dripping into places you never knew you even had. You felt better being in the air conditioning, but that did not disguise the already stained areas of the front of your oversized t-shirt and biker shorts. 

“You don’t need me to… do anything else?”

Will this be fifth time Eddie Munson pisses you off today?

“Say what you need to say, Munson,” You warn, annoyed by the creeping smile on his face. 

You watch as he uncrosses his arms, leaning forward towards you. “Do you need me to fuck you, princess? Is that what this is?”

Your jaw hits the floor at his offer.

“What? H-how are you getting that from this-” “You just need a good fuck to release all this tension. It’s written all over you.”

He has never been this bold before. It’s blowing your mind. He has never propositioned sex to you, ever. Maybe jokingly. Wait, last week he did suggest it to get rid of your period cramps-

“You have to be kiddin’ me, Munson.”

He shakes his head, dipping his head down to meet your eyes, “I’m deadly serious, princess.”

“You’re just sayin’ this to piss me off even more-”

He presses his pointer finger to your lips, shushing you immediately, “All this talk and I’m not hearing a no.”

You swat his hand away, groaning in annoyance. You gave Eddie props, he was very convincing when he wanted to be. But you knew better.

But then again, it had been a year since a guy pleased you. 

“Eddie, you know the promise we made all those years ago. No kissing. No sex,” You lean further away, your back arching over the counter. “You can’t just propose this because I am angry at you and want you to take some accountability.”

“I’m not proposing this because I wanna weasel my way out of trouble. I’m doing it because you have been so tense these last couple months, I feel like I am walking on eggshells,” He explains, tossing his hands in the air dramatically, “Just let me get it out of your system. I know it’s been a year or so.”

“How do you know?”

You were trying to find a way out. The deepest darkest secret you held in the very depths of your heart was that you did have feelings for Eddie. You have since high school. But Eddie was occupied in every place in life and you got the permanent label as friend before you even had a chance. He dated around and you were stuck secretly obsessing over him, which- whatever. It was fine. 

All his passes at you were just normal at this point. You never gave them a second thought. You were idle in the idea that it was just jokes and that he never meant it. Even when he said he would give you head to make you feel better when the last guy you dated broke up with you. Or when he told you that he liked the way your hands felt pressed against his bare chest when you helped him apply sunscreen. Or when-

Wait... Did friends usually say that to each other?

“How do I know what?” He asks, his voice wavering a bit.

You huff, “How do you know it’s been a year?”

A mischievous smile spreads across his lips, “Because the last time I heard you through the wall moaning and begging, was about March of last year. It’s currently June.”

The heat rises back to your cheeks as you stare at him wide eyed. You did not realize he was even home when you last had someone over, let alone knew he heard it all.

“Eddie! You sick bastard! You listened?!”

You go to smack his chest but he snatches your hand away, the darkness in his eyes only hinting at his intentions. 

“How can I not? You were so loud for that guy,” He almost looks jealous. Almost. 

“I-“

“Just begging for him to let you cum. Did you, sweetheart? Did you cum for that slimeball?”

Your mouth opens slightly, realizing his hand is still wrapped around your wrist. No ease in the tension around it, just white-knuckling it. 

“I don’t remember-“

“Those moans sounded too good to be true, princess. But what do I know,” He sits back against the counter again, pulling your body closer as he does, “You’ve never cum for me. Maybe you actually do sound like that.”

You really should not. You should just yank your arm away from him and mark this down as Eddie just being a perv again. But something inside you, the tension, the annoyance, the desire, is starting to burn a pit in your stomach.

“I can.”

He raises his eyebrows, pulling your wrist and hand up to his shoulder so you rest it there. You grip onto his bare shoulder, while his arm snakes around your waist. 

“You can what?”

Your mouth goes dry, unsure if you can actually mutter the words. You usually had no filter with Eddie, but right now you felt like your voice completely cut out. He looks down at you, his head tilted in curiosity. “Say it, sweetheart. You can what?”

You grit your teeth, finally submitting. 

“I could cum for you.”

He arrogantly smirks, his fingers sneaking up under your shirt, “Yeah, princess? You wanna cum for me?”

Coming from his lips, it’s like melted butter. It seems so natural, his voice dropping as he speaks such absurd things to you. You smack your lips together, almost like you are contemplating giving in. But your mind is already made up. 

Before you can even give him a taste of his own medicine, your mind slips.

“If only you make me scream like those other girls.”

Fuck. Why did you say that?

His mouth only widens, shocked at the statement. “So you were listening to me, huh? You called me a sick bastard mere moments ago when you were doing the same thing!”

Your fingers pinch his earlobe, making him flinch a bit. “Eddie, you cannot help but be loud! Neither can they!”

Your defense is weak, but you try to sound convincing. 

“Well they are screaming for a reason, sweetheart.”

You dismiss the comment for a minute, really trying to mull this idea over. Would this cost you his friendship? Was it all really worth it? 

Your nails trail down and dig into his shoulder blade, warningly. “Do you seriously want to do this?”

He shrugs, casually, like this is the most normal conversation you two have ever had. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you in my bed for years. Seems like I just gotta get you all angry and hot for you to even think about it.”

The revelation deflates you a bit. You mentally slap yourself, thinking back to all the times Eddie has offered you ‘time’ with him in bed. You always took his passes as jokes, because that’s just Eddie. He’s never been serious a day in his life. 

You press your body into him more, your nose getting closer to his, “You’ve wanted this for years?”

He nudges your nose with his, playfully, “Don’t act all surprised.”

The tension is at an all time high. The moment your eyes drop to his lips, you cannot peel them away from them. You have been close to him like this before, but never with explicit intentions. Maybe just to tease him or pester him. One time to inspect a possible bug that flew into his eye. 

Eddie was your friend. Best friend. 

Why was he looking different?

He notes the way you are silent, observing the way his lips curl upward into a toothless grin. 

He shifts down, capturing your lips in a hesitant kiss, testing the waters. When the softness of his lips makes impact on your slightly dry lips, you feel self-conscious for a beat. 

That was until you felt Eddie’s other hand sneak around your waist and pull you even closer. It’s the quiet reassurance you did not even know you needed. 

You lean into it, practically falling into his chest completely. The kiss only progresses from there. Your hand cradles his neck as his hands sneak down from your waist to your ass. You had seen Eddie kiss before, but having it be done to you is a completely different experience. He’s hungry for it, but he’s also so tender and calculated with the movements. 

The groping turns into him leveraging you upward onto the countertop. He slots himself between your legs, feeling up your thighs as his tongue slips past your lips. He’s good at stimulating you in every way, your body riddled with goosebumps. You cannot help the groans leaving your throat.

“God, you’re so hot,” He grumbles between kisses. You giggle into his mouth which makes him shake his head and pull away. 

You hold his face close to yours, smiling up at his lust-blown eyes. “Never thought I’d hear you say that. Well… in this situation at least.”

“Can you just shush and let me make you feel good?” His lips trail down from your cheek peppering wet kisses to your neck, “Lemme make it up to you, sweetheart. Been a bad friend. Bad roommate.”

You roll your eyes for two reasons. One, he’s a dork. Two, his lips feel way too good on your throat.

“Make it up to me by being a good lover.”

He barks a laugh, almost too loud for the joke. “Oh, you want me to make love to you?”

“Can you just keep kissin’-”

His lips touch your collarbones and suddenly your body stiffens. You look down at his sinful expression, his lips dragging lower over your chest. His hand returns to the hem of your shirt, slowly tugging it over your head. Your ratty old sports bra was the least sexy thing you could be wearing, but Eddie eyes you like you are in lacey red lingerie with his name stitched into it. You take it upon yourself to peel the sweaty bra off, luckily the only scent you smell when you lift your arms is your antiperspirant.

“You are more perfect than I imagined,” Eddie mumbles, his hands reaching out to cup your boobs. His hands still adorned with his gaudy rings. Makes the sight even more breathtaking. 

You roll your eyes, not believing him, “You’ve seen me in a bathing-”

His head dips down, catching your nipple in his mouth. The action silences you and instead of continuing your nervous babbling, you moan out his name. He rolls your pebbled nipple between his teeth while hissing in satisfaction. You can not stop yourself from raking your fingers through his curls. 

He pulls away from your chest, pressing a quick kiss to your other tit, “I can’t do this if you continue to give me grief.”

The dig makes you blush. You were always awful when it came to dirty talk. Making it awkward was, unfortunately, your specialty. You nod sheepishly, untangling your fingers from his deep chocolate brown hair.

“I’ll shut up.”

He shakes his head, his lips finding the spot right below your ear. You can feel the smirk on his face, "No, don’t shut up. Just keep making those other pretty sounds for me, sweetheart.”

His thumbs hook around the elastic waistband of your shorts, tugging them down. You lift your hips, using his shoulders to balance yourself. You don’t expect him to have you completely naked on your kitchen counter, but the moment your underwear peel away from your cunt, you realize that the wetness between your legs is not just sweat. 

He pulls away from your neck to look at your bare body before him and the groan he lets out makes your pussy clench around nothing. His hand skips down your body, eventually groping your hips. 

“Eddie,” You hum, tilting his chin up so his eyes meet yours, “I’m very naked and you are not.”

He smiles wickedly, shaking his head, “‘Cause I ain’t fuckin’ you here, sweetheart. This is just a really good place for me to get on my knees and devour you.”

You swallow hard, watching him drop to one knee, making him eye level with your glistening cunt, “And look at how beautiful and wet she is for me. This all for me, sweet girl?”

“You’re not the only one who’s been wanting this for a while,” You admit, your eyes drooping to watch his mouth move across your inner thighs. You are a bit self-conscious, not having prepared your pussy for this kind of activity, but Eddie does not seem to mind. He admires you like a piece of art at a museum.

He flicks his tongue out of his mouth, unhurriedly moving up your slit. Once he has his first taste, that smile returns, “Mmm, there’s that confession I’ve been waiting for.”

Your mind draws a blank as he dives back in, pressing his tongue between your pussy lips. He has never looked so happy doing a task in his life, his beautifully straight teeth bared as his tongue swirls around your clit. His grip only tightens on your thighs ensuring you do not move them together. He needs you nice and wide open while he tongue fucks you. 

He becomes more eager with his movements the moment you try to brace yourself on the edge of the counter. His fingers hook down into your flesh, dragging you to the edge of the surface. He does not miss a beat while he suckles on your clit, wrapping his plump pink lips around it and slurping it like a straw. 

The knot in your stomach is tightening as you study his actions. Somehow it is like he knows your body better than you do. 

The instant he sinks his pointer and middle finger into your soaked cunt, it is game over. Your body reacts before your mind does, vibrating against his mouth and fingers. He does not slow down when you clench around him, instead, he increases his speed and ministrations. 

“Jesus, fuck, Eddie,” you whimper, surrendering to the climax. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting your mouth hang ajar as random moans escape you. Your nerve endings have never felt so electrified in your life. 

Once you feel a slight come down, Eddie comes back up for air. His lips are shiny with his own saliva and whatever escaped you when you came. 

You drop your head back, hitting the upper cabinet. 

“You didn’t even have to beg for the first one,” He grunts, getting back to his feet. He locks his arm around your knees and drags your upper half into his other arm, “But the second one, you have to ask for permission, ‘kay?”

His lips are pressed to your temple, kissing you gingerly. 

“You want me to beg, Eds?”

He chuckles darkly, carrying you princess-style across the house and to the living room. He could take you to bed, but he is not sure if that feels too intimate. You just want him inside you, not caring much where he decides to do it. 

You bounce on the worn-down couch as he drops you down, your bare ass immediately sticking to the leather. His discards his tank top and practically jumps on top of you, his hips resting between your legs. You greedily tug at his basketball shorts, begging to reveal the length behind the tented fabric. 

“Mmm, eager, are we?”

You had seen Eddie’s ass plenty of times. His shirtless frame. But never his dick. His tight pants left little to the imagination most times. But up close, pressed against your palm, you cannot help but gasp about how big he is. 

He grabs your wrist firmly, his curls dropping down his shoulders as he shakes his head, “Wanna hear you beg.”

It spills right out of your desperate mouth. “Please, Eddie.”

“Please what?”

“Let me see your cock,” Your eyes reflecting faux innocence, “Please?”

He cannot help but giggle, assisting you in getting his shorts down his tattooed legs. You had been next to him for the big one on his right thigh, an ode to his favorite Metallica album. You did not completely understand the concept, but the black ink littering his body only added to his appeal. 

His cock is even better than your mind had mocked up before. Long, slightly curved to the left, and not too thick that he may split you in half. 

You truly cannot fathom the fact that this is happening. He is willingly showing you his dick and smiling at you while you gawk. 

He is naked above you, and God is he breathtaking. The mop of curls, the broadness of his shoulders, his very slight tummy from all the beer he drinks, the works of art littering his pale skin.

Your eyes finally make their way back up to his, only to note the serious look he’s giving you. 

“What?”

His lips twitch, “Just can’t believe I finally get to do this. And that it’s real and it’s not all in my head.”

Your heart stutters. 

You lick your lips, searching every crevice of your mind for a response. He realizes that you are trying to muddle up a reply and that he has broken your brain temporarily. So instead of letting you counter his statement, he captures your lips in a bruising kiss. 

He wastes no time after that, grabbing his dick and pushing it between your slick folds. You groan into his mouth, your pussy still very sensitive from the first orgasm he gave you. Your hand snakes around the back of his neck, holding his face close to yours. 

“Eddie-“

He pushes into you before you can say anything else, a hiss whistling between his clenched teeth. 

“God damn,” He throws his head back, shaking your hand away from his neck, “You’re fuckin’ tight, princess.”

The moan that leaves your throat is a whole octave lower than your actual voice. Eddie looks down at you, the widest smile painted across his face. You feel his hips inch closer and closer to you and you realize he is not fully inside you yet. 

You take a breath, trying to relax your muscles, “Please, please, please.”

He snaps his hips forward, a dark guttural chuckle taunting you. “There she is. Beggin’.”

Eddie had changed into a completely different person. Sure, he was always picking on you, but this was a stark contrast from your silly best friend. The man above you, slowly rocking his hips inside you, was feral. His confidence only burning brighter the more you whimper for him. 

“Please, faster.”

The wet squelching noise that emits between your bodies is borderline embarrassing. You had never heard such a sound with any other man. Eddie loves it, though. The idea that you were just gushing for him is enough to send him into overdrive. 

“Yeah? You want me to go faster,” He pushes your thighs apart, spreading you wider. He wants to look at how beautiful your pussy looks stuffed full of him. “Look at that.”

You shift yourself up on your elbows, looking down at the sight he cannot peel his eyes away from. “Jesus, I cannot believe…”

You drift off, watching Eddie slowly retreat back only to sharply snap forward. Your jaw goes slack as he drives himself into you, disappearing over and over again. 

Eddie‘s eyes are now on you, watching your tits jiggle every time his cock pierces your squishy walls. 

“You really needed this, huh, princess?”

You watch as he reaches down between your bodies, swiping your clit with his thumb.

Your eyes roll back, unable to hold yourself together, “I really did, oh my god.”

Your legs stiffen and Eddie’s hands loosen up, letting you squirm and adjust yourself. Your hips burn and your mind is mush. Eddie’s erratic movements against your swollen bud and his rapidly moving hips are overstimulating, you cannot help but lock your legs around him. 

“Yeah, I can fucking feel you clenching around me,” He babbles, licking his lips, “You just take my cock so well, don’t you? Just fuckin’ made for me.”

He does not stop talking as you grunt your response. You have never seen the man so driven to get something done in your life. He wants to cum, but he wants to feel you fall apart on him even more. His words are just pouring out of him.

“Yeah? You want me to make you mine, huh? Gonna make this pussy somethin’ only I can have.“

Your eyes fly open in shock, his words ringing in your ears. You feel his dick twitch inside you, hitting the same perfect spot over and over again. “Please, please.”

“Fuck, say it, baby. Say that you’re mine.”

He is so desperate, his usual calm, cool, collected voice faltering. 

“I’m yours, Eddie.”

His thumb presses hard down on your clit, causing your hips to shift upward. The nerve endings that were ablaze before are now imploding. 

The vibration of your body catches him off guard at first, so he locks his hands on your hips. You lurch your body into a crescent shape as he continues to chase his high. A final scream rips through your body, chanting his name. 

Every snap forward was another word slipping from his practically drooling mouth. He fucked his cum deep inside you, his words bouncing off the walls.

“Yes.” “The.” “Fuck.” “You.” “Are.”

Your body goes completely limp under him the moment your high dissipates. He is panting like he just ran 10 miles as he slowly drifts to his side, positioning his nude body between your body and the back couch cushions. When his cock leaves your cunt, he dribbles cum over your mound and lower tummy. You glance down at your body, completely blissed out. 

You have never felt more appreciated in your life.

He lays his head right on your shoulder, fanning your sweaty body with his warm breath. He does not say anything, just settles next you, throwing his arm over your midsection.

You swallow, trying to regain your composure. You thought after doing something like this with Eddie, you would feel some guilt. Regret, maybe. But none of those emotions spring up.

You felt relaxed and at peace. Like you walked off the edge of a cliff and instead of landing on a rocky bottom, you landed on a sea of fluffy pillows. It was a relief. 

Your eyes fall onto his lazily smirking face, “I did really need that.”

He hums his response at first, before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I could tell. I can read you pretty well, huh?”

That’s the understatement of the century. He can read you perfectly. 

You start to reflect on every word that spilled from his lips during the entire interaction, and suddenly your stomach is in knots. You start to wonder if he really did feel those things, or if he was just lost in the moment. You almost don’t ask in fear that he will tell you something you didn’t want to hear. 

“Did you mean everything you said,” You press, your hand absentmindedly tucking some of his hair behind of his ear. His fingers dance across your flesh, eventually swirling around your collarbones.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

He says it so simply. You wanted to believe it was that easy, but there is logistical things that needed to be discussed. Feelings and thoughts that needed further explanation. 

Eddie can see that your mind is racing. Your expression gives you away every time. His mouth slowly opens to further elaborate on his response, but before he can get out a word, there’s a pounding at your front door. 

It is so sudden and loud, you both sit up from the couch. 

“Mr. Munson! You left your hose on! There’s a drought-”

You tune out the rest of the rant from your elderly neighbor because Eddie starts chuckling and rubbing his eyes. He looks down at you as the rant starts to get louder, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips before grabbing his boxers off the floor. 

“You stay there, beautiful. I’ll deal with this.”

You do as he says, the bliss he left you in after the kiss enough to hold you over until he comes crawling back on top of you. He stumbles back into his boxers, going to the front door and cracking it so he can get eyes on your neighbor. 

“Yeah, my fault, Mr. O’Connell. Had to comfort my lady because she cut herself on the shovel. I’ll be right out to shut off that hose and save the rainforest or whatever.”

You hear a scoff from behind the door, the older gentleman taken off guard. “Oh, so she’s your lady now?”

You can hear the smile that spreads across his face. “Always has been, sir.”

[kingkaisen]

REUNION! — Satoru Gojo.

♡ — SUMMARY; you & gojo are childhood friends who haven’t seen each other in years. while he went on to become a sorcerer, you went down a dark path. but he’ll certainly have no problem on his mission to stop you, right?

♡ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — SPOILERS IN THE WARNINGS: fem! reader, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, smut, grinding, blindfolded sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, violent death, drinking, reader is a curse user.

♡ — A/N; sorry for the long word count! no im not!

♡ — WC; 7k

“Y/N, Y/N, make me a promise, okay?” The white-haired kid ran up to you, high green grass tickling his knees as he did so, his childish grin as bright as the summer sun shining above.

At such a young age, still a boy and not yet a sorcerer, you were still taller than he was despite him being one year older, something he reminded you of quite often.

“Y/N!” He shouted again, “I said we need-we need to make a promise.”

“Okay, okay, stop shouting, ‘Toru,” you pushed yourself to your feet, abandoning your previous spot among the grass where you admired the colorful flowers growing. You knew one thing for certain — flower crowns were going to be made for you and Satoru this afternoon.

And he’d wear his until his clan members yanked it off of his invaluable head.

“Okay, hold out your hand,” Satoru huffed, out of breath, but still grinning. He held a closed fist behind his back, and you looked at him distrustfully. The last time he did something similar to this, he planted a bug on your skin.

“Nuh-uh! What’s behind your back?” You frowned.

“You gotta trust me, c’mon, pleaseee?”

After a moment of hesitation, you extended your arm and held out your hand.

Satoru wasted no time placing something on your palm. Something small. Circular. Cold.

When he pulled his hand away, a ring glistened back at you, and you stared at it with wide, curious eyes.

“What’s this for?”

“It means you’re my wife now. That’s how marriage works, okay? We promise to get married ‘cause I gave you a ring, and now I’m your huz-band.”

Suddenly, Satoru whipped around as fast as he could, running away as he giggled, leaving you alone and dumbfounded in your front yard.

But you didn’t bother chasing after him. The aroma of your mother’s delicious soup seeped through the front door and into the yard, traveling under your nose, and you knew that Satoru would return for dinner. He always did.

—

YEARS LATER

—

SATORU GOJO recognized this room. The old-fashioned furniture — which, years ago, was considered stylish — hadn’t been changed in decades. The couch that he once sat on was covered in a thick layer of dust. The TV set across from it was an outdated little thing, and as he touched the black box, he remembered when you and he would sit in front of it and watch reruns of your favorite cartoons. He smiled softly at the bittersweet memory.

But, that smile quickly turned into a concerned frown when he heard footsteps coming from the nearby kitchen. You appeared, stepping through the archway.

“She’s really here,” Satoru thought.

After all, he felt your presence, but he wasn’t certain if it was because you were nearby, or if it was from being inside of your abandoned childhood home.

“Y/N . . .” Satoru called out.

He didn’t know why he called your name. Maybe it was to confirm that it was actually you. After all, he could barely see your face due to the surrounding darkness thanks to the lack of power. All he had to go off of was the information his Six Eyes presented him, and the moonlight shining through the big living room window that illuminated half of your body.

But he couldn’t blame the lack of light for why it was so difficult to recognize you.

He hadn’t seen you in years. Years.

The last time he looked into your eyes, they were glistening with tears from falling and scraping your knee during a game of tag.

“You look well. You look . . . strong,” you said.

The sound of your voice was startling. He had forgotten what it sounded like after so many years, but then again, his memory of it would have been inaccurate, because you no longer sounded like a child, of course.

“What’s going on? What are you doing here? Where the hell have you been?”

Satoru had more questions. Hundreds. Thousands.

“I came here because I needed a place to hide. Figured my parent’s old house would do the trick. Looks like I was wrong,” you put your hands into your pockets. “What are you doing here? How’d you find me?”

“There was . . .” he couldn’t think. After spending so much time imagining his reunion with you, his dear old friend, he never imagined that it would be so strange. So odd. “There was a mission. Someone spotted the curse user who killed four humans this morning fleeing into this neighborhood. I’m guessing that was you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You only looked the tall man up and down.

“If they sent the inheritor of the Six Eyes out for a little mission like this, you didn’t turn out to be as strong as everyone predicted, huh? And it was six, right?”

“I volunteered for this mission because I recognized the neighborhood. They were going to send my students, but-”

“But you knew I’d be here. You hoped I’d be here.” You interrupted him, smiling as you spoke, as if you were both having a lighthearted conversation, chitchatting like good ol’ pals. “You have students? So you became a teacher? That’s interesting.”

“And you became a damn curse user.” Satoru spoke through gritted teeth, briefly snatching his blindfolded eyes away from you and looking out the window, taking in the moonlit sight of the overgrown grass in the front yard. “I’m going to ask you one last time, Y/N. What happened, and where have you been? Why’d you just disappear?”

You took a few steps in his direction. He debated backing away from you, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be close to you, even if it was dangerous.

“I disappeared?” You raised your eyebrows. “I might’ve left, but you were the one who disappeared first.”

“How did I-”

“You stopped coming around, ‘Toru.”

Satoru’s heart skipped a beat. The rest of the world might’ve called him Satoru, or Gojo, or the World’s Strongest Sorcerer, but to you, he was simply ‘Toru.

“We hung out every day together, played outside, and ate dinner in that room right there,” you nodded towards the kitchen, “but you had forgotten all about me by the time we were eleven or twelve. I get it, you were the rich kid from a prestigious clan. Had to learn how to control your power and fight. I get it. But you still left first.”

“Why did you kill four people today, Y/N?”

You were both only a few inches apart, close enough to feel each other’s warmth in such a cold room. When your head turned away from him, your body soon to follow, Satoru interrupted your movements by grabbing ahold of your chin. He forced your eyes back in his direction — back up at his face.

“Answer me.” Gojo’s words carried the weight of anger and sadness in them, and that misery created a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow. “Why’d you do it?”

“Didn’t have a choice.”

“Don’t be vague. Tell me what happened.”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters because unless you explain yourself, you’ll-”

“Don’t pretend to care about me now.” You smiled softly, staring at his blindfold, leaving him to wonder if you could somehow see through it — if your stare was powerful enough to glare through his cloth and into his shielded eyes. “We don’t know each other anymore. We’re strangers. If I was strong enough, I’d kill you and not feel a thing afterward. Could you do the same?”

“I might not have a choice,” Satoru mumbled. “Unless you surrender, I won’t have a choice.”

His thumb stroked the skin of your cheek, and although the touch was foreign — strange, even — you didn’t shudder.

“You won’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” His hand fell away from your face as he spoke, taking the warmth his touch brought with him. “What makes you so confident? I’ve had to kill an old friend before. I’m just hoping I won’t have to do that today.”

“The reason why you’re going to let me go right now is because you feel guilty. You left an old friend behind because your clan told you it was the right thing to do. You didn’t know better. That isn’t your fault. But you still feel guilty, because my parents died and I went down a pretty dark path, and even though I wrote you a shitty letter telling you to never look for me, I couldn’t have stopped you if you really wanted to find me. But you didn’t. And now you’re thinking to yourself that, maybe, if you ignored my letter and searched for me anyway, I wouldn’t have become a curse user, right? Blaming yourself for everything is a burden you’ll have to carry for the rest of your life, and if you have to carry the weight of my death on your shoulders too, you won’t be able to handle it. You might end up going down the same dark path as I did. Or as the friend you killed in the past did,” your soft smile never faltered. “So, you’re gonna let me go, tell whoever you work for that I got away, and we’ll never have to see each other again.”

You started to turn away, much like you had done earlier, but this time, it wasn’t Satoru’s touch that halted your footsteps, but the sound of his voice.

“No,” he mumbled.

“No?” You raised your brows.

“I don’t know how the rest of this night’s gonna go. We might try to kill each other, I might let you go, you might surrender, I don’t know. But right now, I don’t wanna . . .” He paused, searching his overworked mind for the right words to say. “I wanna talk to you. Can we?”

During your childhood, your little talks amounted to the both of you sitting side-by-side on your porch, making flower crowns, discussing which animals were the coolest or the lamest. Now, Satoru unfolded an old, blue blanket he found in a hallway closet and tossed it across the wooden floor. He sat down. It was muscle memory — sitting on the floor in front of the couch rather than on it, as his subconscious mind still remembered the days when your parents occupied the tiny sofa, leaving you and him with no other choice but to flop down on the ground in front of them if you wanted to watch television too — not that either one of you minded.

The floor creaked underneath your booted feet. Satoru looked to his right and took in the sight of you approaching with a special bottle of aged wine.

“Hope you don’t mind drinking out of a bottle. The glasses are all dusty, and I’m not putting my lips on those,” you said, gently plopping down beside him.

There you both were, sitting on the blanketed floor in front of your couch and across from the lifeless television, but with the gorgeous moon and stars bright and visible through the big window; the night sky itself was a show of twinkling beauty.

“I’m surprised you agreed to this. You’re pretty hardheaded.” Satoru watched you remove the thin foil wrapped around the top of the wine, insert a corkscrew, and twist it with great expertise. One certainly didn’t need a master’s degree to open wine, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you often sought the solution to your woes at the bottom of an alcoholic beverage until it ran dry.

“Yeah, I’m pretty stubborn, but I’m not a devil, and I’m not angry with you or anything, so why not?” Pressing the bottle to your lips, you took a sip, letting the earthy flavors slip down your tongue and throat. Gently, you gulped. “At the end of the day, I wanna talk. I’m curious about you too.”

“Right, well, I have a hard time believing that, considering you just said you’d kill me and not feel a thing, huh?”

“That’s just life. Nothing personal.” Your hand held the neck of the bottle as you passed it to Satoru. He thought about you both passing a juice box back and forth in a similar way to this, once upon a time.

“So, did you actually have something you wanted to talk about, or are you just stalling before your comrades get here?” Your distrustful eyes stared at the side of his pale, moonlit face as you spoke. “Nevermind. Dumb question. You wouldn’t need backup. You’re the strongest, so I’ve heard.”

“Earlier, I asked you why you killed those people, and you said you didn’t have a choice. Care to elaborate?” Satoru spoke as if you had said nothing only moments before, and it was crystal clear that his mind was elsewhere, and there, it would stay, until he found the answer to why his old best friend became a curse user. A murderer.

“Not really,” your mouth stretched as a yawn escaped you.

“Care to try?”

“There’s nothing to tell. You were born to be who you are now, a damn hero or whatever, and I was born to do . . . this.”

“Do you honestly believe something as stupid as that?” Satoru took a sip of the wine. His face scrunched up as if the beverage was both poison and yet, an antidote to his problems. “Own up to what you’ve done. Don’t blame it on your birth or the way you were raised. I knew your parents. They were good people-”

“They were good people, and that’s what got them killed,” you interrupted. The air was as thick with tension as it was with dust. You sighed. You took the wine bottle back from him, taking a sip before you spoke — softer, this time. “Listen, if we’re just going to sit here and talk about my sins, then I’m gonna leave.”

“The last time I saw you, you were crying because you accidentally squashed a ladybug, can you blame me for wondering what happened to you? What turned you into a curse user? And you still haven’t told me where you’ve been before now.”

“I’ve been right here.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh yeah? And how would you know?”

“I know because I did look for you even though you told me not to.” Satoru’s voice was shaky but his tone was undoubtedly sincere. It was impossible to deny that his words were honest. “I looked everywhere. As soon as I got your letter, I destroyed it, and ever since, I’ve followed every trail and clue that I thought would lead me to you. Every time I traveled to a different country for a mission, I wondered if you were there. I spent the rest of my childhood, my teenage years, and my early twenties looking for you, until I realized the only reason it was so difficult was because you didn’t want to be found.”

The floor became your new point of focus. You stared holes into creaky wooden boards, processing Satoru’s words. “Why didn’t you say that earlier? I had no idea.”

“Would it have made a difference?” Satoru hooked his finger underneath his blindfold and pulled at it casually for a moment, playing with it. Neither one of you touched the wine bottle. “So, after covering your tracks all this time, why didn’t you cover them now? You wanted to get caught, right? Why?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Oh my god, you’re annoying.” You released a light breath of air in both humor and frustration. “After all these years, you’re still annoying as hell.”

“Damn right I am,” Satoru smiled as he looked over at you, and, surprisingly, not only did you glance over at him, but you smiled too — which made his heart skip a beat — and it wasn’t one of your false grins from earlier, but a genuine, heartwarming smile.

Satoru couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful expression on your lips.

“Hey, can you take off your blindfold?”

Your question made his eyes dart from your mouth to your curious gaze.

“Hm? Why?”

“I wanna see your entire face. Just for a minute,” you said.

A faint memory of little ‘Toru slumping around and complaining about his severe headaches crossed your mind. Your mother would make him rest on the couch right behind you both, close his eyes, and she’d place a wet towel across his forehead. You figured that was what the blindfold was for.

Satoru hooked his finger around his blindfold — the top of it this time — and pulled the black cloth down his face. He was going to let it dangle around his neck with the intention of placing it back over his eyes momentarily, but suddenly, your fingers were curling around it. You pulled it across his neck and head, taking it off of him.

He watched you with amused, yet curious bright blue eyes. You tugged the cloth around your own eyes, adjusting the blindfold until it sat perfectly on your face.

“I can’t see a thing, what the hell,” you said, glancing around though your vision amounted to nothing except darkness.

During such an ordinary moment, Satoru discovered something about himself.

Though he admired your irresistible voice, captivating smile, and pretty lips, there was something — something — so incredibly intoxicating about seeing you wear his blindfold. More intoxicating than the wine.

God, he could barely handle it.

He shifted his position. It might have looked like he was simply uncomfortable sitting on the hard floor despite the blanket serving as a bit of cushion, but in all actuality, he was trying to prevent his cock from hardening against the fabric of his pants.

But he couldn’t do a damn thing about the light shade of pink that dusted across his cheeks.

He half-heartedly hoped you’d keep the blindfold on so you wouldn’t notice, but you soon took it off, handing it back.

When you tossed the little black thing to him, your eyes locked with his. Yours widened a bit. Distant moonlight reflected off of your eyes as you did so. Shocked, you seemed.

Satoru felt like an exposed nerve. Had you suddenly realized what was happening? Had his blushing face revealed his secrets; that he wanted to both kiss you as hard as he could and fuck you, right here, as you wore his blindfold?

Suddenly, you started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Satoru asked.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just the alcohol, I’m sorry.” You shook your head. It was a lame excuse, considering you hadn’t had enough wine to feel tipsy. “It’s just that, uh, in the kindest way possible, you turned out to be way more handsome than I expected.”

“Excuse me?” Satoru raised his brows, amusingly pretending to be more offended than he actually was.

“I’m sorry, but as a kid . . . you were kinda funny-looking. You had . . . like . . .” Putting your hands up nearest your head, you spread them apart, emphasizing that, in your opinion, little ‘Toru had a really big head.

“Okay, so you thought I was the ugliest person to ever exist, good to know,” Satoru playfully shoved your hands down.

“Oh my god, I didn’t say that. You’re so dramatic,” you laughed, and he joined in on your joyous little chuckle.

After a few moments, the sound of laughter drifted off into a comfortable silence. Your eyes met your lap, but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to glance away from you as he questioned, “You have anyone in your life that you care for? Any loved ones?”

“Nope. Just me,” you mumbled.

“Sounds lonely.”

“What about you, then?”

“I care about my students. One of them I’ve looked after since he was a kid. I have a couple of friends, but aside from that, I think it’s safe to say that I’m lonely too. Pathetic, right?”

“Pathetic, but unsurprising,” you shrugged. “Now I get why we’re both talking to each other right now. Who else do we have?”

After all, being a god and being a devil — being an Honored One and being a Disgraced One — were both lonely businesses.

Suddenly, you got up off of the raggedy blanket, nearly knocking over the wine as you rushed into the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Satoru asked, his eyes following your urgent movements.

“I’ll be right back.”

Momentarily, you returned. You cradled two small white bags in your arms, and upon recognizing what it happened to be, Satoru both scoffed and laughed.

“Snacks? You brought snacks?”

“Well, yeah, I planned to hide out here for a while,” you tossed Satoru a bag of Goldfish crackers. “There you go. Bon appetite or whatever.”

The old floor croaked as you sat back down on the blanket. Gentle squeaks of your bag being opened filled the air, but Satoru hadn’t yet opened his.

“You can have that bag, ‘Toru. Don’t be shy. These things are hard to find.”

“No, here,” Satoru reached out, bag in hand. “If you’re gonna be on the run for a while, I’m not gonna make things harder on you by eating what little food you packed.”

“What?” You froze, nearly dropping the Goldfish crackers within your grasp. “You’re letting me go?”

“There’s no other option. You don’t wanna turn yourself in, I can’t make myself kill you, so . . .” Satoru sighed. Though he too had what most would consider childish taste buds, he had no desire to eat any Goldfish crackers. He did, however, reach for the much-needed wine bottle. “I’m gonna regret this tomorrow. Maybe the higher-ups will fire me and I can finally go on a decent vacation. I’m thinking the Bahamas, what do you think? I could use a little sun-”

“Hey,” you interrupted. “You know just as well as I do that if you wanted to overpower me without killing me and turn me over to the higher-ups, I couldn’t stop you. One twist of the ankle, and I’m all yours. Don’t tell me you can’t even bring yourself to hurt me a little.”

Satoru pressed the wine against his lips, swallowed a tiny sip, then spoke.

“I don’t necessarily want to see you locked away either, assuming they won’t go ahead and kill you for what you’ve done lately. They’ve executed for less,” Satoru's face grew long, those powerful eyes of his filled with sadness. “You should leave.”

“Thank you, Toru.”

A beat of silence passed. Neither one of you moved from your spots. Instead, you swallowed half a handful of goldfish.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Satoru blinked. “I said you should leave . . . I mean now.”

“I’m not ready to leave right this second,” you grabbed Satoru’s hand, flipped it over, and poured a few pieces of Goldfish crackers into his palm. “I’ve missed you, ya know? Who knows if I’ll ever see you again?”

“So, when you said you’d kill me and not feel anything, that was a lie, right?”

“You keep bringing that up. Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Of course you did. Don’t let my ego fool you,” Satoru smiled. “I’m a little sensitive.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was a lie. I can’t kill someone and not feel a thing, and you wouldn’t be an exception.”

“Tell me why you killed four people,” Satoru faced you, but, yet again, your eyes weren’t on him. “Why did you say you didn’t have a choice?”

“Stop asking me about that.” You tossed a few more of the tiny crackers into your mouth before folding the bag shut.

“Sorry,” Satoru said.

“You’re not gonna keep prying?”

“Not if it’ll make you leave quicker.” Satoru couldn’t stand it — your pretty eyes on anything and everything except him. He gently cupped your chin, turned your head in his direction, and said, “I like getting to know you all over again, even if it isn’t pretty. I can’t believe I’m gonna lose you in a few minutes.”

“It doesn’t have to be in a few minutes. I could stay longer,” you spoke softly. There was something about looking into his eyes that made your insides crumble. You found yourself rather grateful that he hadn’t yet put his blindfold back on.

Satoru ran his thumb over your lips. Those gifted eyes of his might have the power to deliver extraordinary information to him, but right now, all they did was convey his greatest desires to you as they repeatedly darted down to your soft lips.

“I could stay . . . maybe a few hours. When do you have to report back?” You whispered.

“In a few hours.”

Satoru leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your neck. He had planned on being gentle, but when the softest moan fell from between your pretty lips, he couldn’t help but suck on the skin. Nibble at it. Do any and every little thing that would make your sweet noises even louder as his large hands gripped your hair.

The sorcerer had a dream; he wanted to worship every inch of you. He wanted to taste your perfect skin, memorize the way it felt against his lips, but you were both pressed for time.

Damn it all.

His grip on your hair tightened as he trailed his lips across your collarbones, but he came to an abrupt stop when your shirt prevented him from going any lower.

“Take this off,” he demanded.

Though the command was for you, he hooked his fingers around your top and pulled it off, leaving you in nothing except your bra — Satoru’s cock started to harden in his pants again. He was rather certain he could and, perhaps, would, cum from the sight of you, topless, underneath the moonlight pouring through the window.

You expected to feel his lips on you again. It was quite a surprise when, instead, he practically lifted you and placed your back on the soft blanket. He moved in between your legs, his body hovering over yours until his clothed cock was pressed against you.

“‘Toru,” You spoke, breathless, as the sight of his gorgeous face above yours rendered you nearly speechless. “What are we doing?”

“Saying goodbye,” He said.

“It’s dusty in here. Aren’t you worried about your allergies?”

“I don’t have any allergies,” Satoru gave a humored smile, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You’re driving me crazy,” Satoru shook his head, but his grin never faded, nor would it.

Well, for the next five seconds, at least, because he started to grind, and gentle moans poured from him as soon as he rubbed his dick against your clothed pussy.

“Faster, go faster,” you gripped his white strands of hair.

His only response came in the form of a groan escaping his throat. He couldn’t speak just yet. He could only increase his speed. Never did he think he would start to come undone from simply grinding against you, but it was you.

Satoru moved his hands down to your thighs, his large hands gripping them and holding them apart in an attempt to grind himself harder against your clit. He didn’t mean to be so rough, to risk leaving bruises on your delicate skin, but he couldn’t fucking help it.

“You’re gonna make me cum right in my pants. They’re brand new,” Satoru whispered in your ear. You felt his breath against the shell of it, then suddenly, his teeth gave it a small nibble, followed by a slow lick with his warm tongue. “I think I’d rather cum inside of you. ‘s that crazy?”

This time, it was your turn to offer moaning as a form of response.

“What’s the matter?” He cooed. “Can’t answer me, baby?”

He released one of your thighs. That hand raised you up just a little, enough for Satoru to unhook your bra, drag the straps along your arms, and toss it across the living room.

His hand made its way to one of your nipples. He rubbed it with his thumb.

“‘Toru, please,” you whined.

“Please what? I can’t read minds.” He smirked yet again. Oh, was he enjoying this. “You had the audacity to become a curse user, but you can’t find the nerve to tell me what you want right now?”

Satoru adjusted himself, moving lower and lower until his mouth hovered over your other nipple. He wanted so desperately to toy with you longer, but you were tantalizing. His tongue was flicking at your nipple without a second thought. He latched his mouth around it, sucking, sucking, and sucking.

His hand had a mind of its own, unbuttoning your pants and running his fingers across your underwear, dancing over your covered clit until the fabric of your panties was soaked.

How, just how was he supposed to let you go after this?

“You’re such a damn tease,” you could feel the tips of his fingers gently apply pressure to your clit. “That’s . . . all I gotta say.”

“Oh?” He was quick to snatch his hand away from your clit, and his mouth away from your nipple. Though he would have preferred to simply die than do either. “You’re saying you don’t want me to fuck you then, right?”

“Careful,” your moonlit eyes met his. “If you do, you might get too attached, and you won’t be able to let me go.”

There it was. That stubborn, bratty behavior he was madly addicted to.

“Then let’s make a deal,” Satoru leaned up, taking off his zip-up jacket. He then started to unbuckle his pants. “If I cum first, we go our separate ways. If you cum first, I’m thinking . . . I’ll go with you.”

“Wait, are you serious? You’d really go with me?” You propped yourself up, your elbows digging into the blanket underneath your back. “You’d throw away your entire career and ruin your reputation for a curse user you’ve been reunited with for an hour?”

“It’s only been an hour, huh?” Satoru paused, looking into your eyes as he shrugged off your shoes, pants, and your underwear. “An hour means nothing when I’ve loved you my entire life.”

His blue eyes darted across your face. They were gathering information. Searching for even the slightest twitch or sparkle in your gaze to understand how you processed his confession.

But there was no need. Your words were a brutal reflection of your feelings.

“Those are pretty words, but I don’t believe you.”

Satoru sighed, but he smiled. After all, he knew you, and he had expected those words, albeit a bit heartbreaking, to fall from your lips.

“Then I’ll just shut up and show you.” Satoru reached for his blindfold that had gotten mixed up in the pile of your discarded clothes.

The sound of angelic moans and wooden floorboards creaking underneath you and Satoru’s thrusting weight was much too loud, considering you were supposed to be hiding out. But it couldn’t be helped — his big cock stuffed your insides with every bump of his hips, and you couldn’t see a damn thing.

The white-haired man tugged his blindfold over your eyes right before he entered you, which was a wildly stupid move on his part, being that seeing you wearing it earlier is what led to him wanting to fuck you in the first place. Therefore, putting it on you when he was trying to use all his unimaginable strength to hold back his brewing orgasm wasn’t the wisest decision.

Not that your idiotic deal mattered.

He wasn’t foolish enough to truly rest such an important fate on his ability to not cum as soon as he sunk his cock into your awaiting pussy; his mind was already made. Nothing would stop him from going with you. Nothing.

“Damn it,” Satoru’s eyelids fluttered closed. “I can’t stand you. You’re gonna make me cum already.”

God, you were utterly perfect. His hard dick was soaked in your sweet juices, and with every pump, your tight hole seemed to not want to let him go, as if it was on a mission to milk him for all he was worth. His balls felt heavy, though his legs felt as if they were going weak. He was close, so close to shooting his pearly white load deep inside of you.

But you were the one starting to become undone.

You started to squirm around, back arching off of the ground, nails digging into the flesh of Satoru’s muscular back. That damned Honored One knew what he was doing when he put his blindfold on you. Having no sight forced you to focus your other senses on the way his cock stimulated your sweet spot, weighty balls slapped against your ass, and delicious moans gushed into your ear.

“I-I can’t, ‘Toru, I . . .”

“What are you blabbering about now, sweetheart?” Satoru moved his head a little ways lower. His tongue ran from your jaw, across your cheek, and stopped right beneath the blindfold. There, he kissed you.

His question was answered in the form of a toe-curling orgasm suddenly possessing your body. Shouts of his name spewed from your lips like a prayer, and that? That was all it took for his own orgasm to overtake him as well.

“Look at you, cumming all over me,” he hooked his hands underneath your trembling knees, shoving your legs back. “I’m right there too. Hold still. I want you to feel every last drop of it.”

The end of his sentence started to trail off into a whisper as he started to cum. And he could only moan and cum. Cum and moan.

“Fuck- oh, fuck,” He shoved every inch of his dick inside of you, rhythmically rocking his hips again, fucking his seed into you deeply. “That’s it. Take it. You’re so perfect . . . perfect for me.”

The last droplets of his cum were still filling your insides when Satoru’s phone started to ring. It was an obnoxious disruption that made you whine with great annoyance, and Satoru sighed. But, after all, he was still on a mission.

He didn’t yet fully pull out, but he leaned up, took the blindfold off of you, and patted around in the mess of your bundled clothing for his cell phone.

“Who is it?” You asked tiredly.

The phone screen illuminated his frowning face much like the moonlight did yours.

“A bunch of fools,” he mumbled.

Satoru answered the call — he had no choice.

“What?” he pressed the phone against his ear, grimacing at the sound of a higher-up’s voice.

You couldn’t make out what the caller was saying, but Satoru’s disinterested facial expressions told the story of a sorcerer getting scolded like a child.

“Yeah . . . I know . . .” Satoru ran his hand over your nude upper body, toying absentmindedly with one of your tits. His thumb graced your nipple, and trying not to moan was a challenge you lost.

“Shhh,” he frowned down at you, pulling the phone away from his ear momentarily.

He adjusted his position. That, in turn, made him drive his cock deeper into your slick walls, which ejected a sharp, loud moan from you. Satoru Gojo was a smirking asshole, and that asshole shoved two of his fingers in your mouth, silencing you, all before bucking his hips again.

“No, I haven’t found her yet, but don’t worry, she’s-” he thrusted again, “close.”

Suddenly, Satoru’s face changed from a cocky grin to one of disappointment. His grip on his cell phone tightened.

“You want me to come back? Right now? But what about the-” The caller interrupted Satoru, who pulled both his fingers out of your mouth, and his cock out of your pussy.

Whoever was speaking to the sorcerer wasn’t yet done talking, but that didn’t stop Satoru from rolling his eyes and promptly ending the phone call.

“What’s going on?” You sat up, reaching for your bra.

“This entire thing is just one big shit show.” Satoru grabbed his pants as he continued, “I have to give a mid-mission report to those stupid old fools because they don’t trust me.”

“Well, in their defense, you did just kinda fuck me, and you’re planning on letting me go,” you smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We weren’t finished.” Satoru scrunched up your top, pulling it down over your head and across your chest for you. “So much for our reunion, but at least I got to fuck a curse user. Still, though. I had big plans.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, you know,” he suddenly rested his hand on your pussy, giving it a gentle pat. “Eating you out. Guess I’ll just have to hurry back.”

“You’re coming back? That dumb deal wasn’t a joke?” You shook your head, putting your feet through your underwear. “No. I can’t let you throw your life away. You’re crazy.”

As Satoru finished dressing, he spoke, “You came before all of it. You were there before I could even spell the word jujutsu. I regretted not putting you first my entire life for years now, and I won’t make that mistake again. I promise, so, shut up.”

He stood up. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, noting the look of distrust in your eyes.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll be right back, alright?” He planted another kiss on your soft cheek. “Wait here.”

And, with that, Satoru was gone, leaving you alone on the blanket in the dusty living room of your deceased parents.

There, in the darkness, your only source of light being what the moon had to offer, you pulled both the bottle of wine and your Goldfish crackers closer to you. Despite your lack of belief that the World’s Strongest Sorcerer would return, you waited.

—

TWO HOURS LATER

—

The higher-ups talked endlessly, and by the time they wrapped up their impromptu meeting, Satoru had decided that he would soon murder every single one of them.

Only towards the end of the meeting did they inform him that he was no longer assigned to the mission of capturing or killing you, but other sorcerers were dispatched to your exact location.

Other sorcerers who didn’t plan on capturing you at all.

Other sorcerers who had been sent to your hideout 45 minutes prior.

He returned to your parent’s abandoned home as quickly as he could, standing in the patchy grass of the front yard, but it was much too late. The cursed energy that radiated from the destroyed property made him go weak at the knees. And, oh, was it destroyed.

The front door was ripped from its hinges. The living room window was shattered, surrounding walls crumbled to ruins, and he could see where the blanket you had both made love on just hours prior used to be. The couch you both leaned your backs against while chatting with wine and snacks was now split in half. Foam covered the blood-soaked floor.

He could see all of that from the front yard.

Going into your parent’s house made the sight significantly worse.

You locked eyes with him.

Relief flooded his senses, his lips nearly upturning into a smile.

That was, until he trailed his eyes down and saw that nothing remained of you except your upper body.

Below your chest was a horrifying mess of human destruction — blood, guts, and pieces of bone and flesh from body parts he could no longer identify.

Satoru’s entire body trembled violently. How . . . just how the hell could a sorcerer kill someone so brutally?

He’d figure out who did this to you. He’d kill them too. He’d make it fucking hurt. He’d-

His eyes caught sight of the familiar white bag in your grasp. Splotches of blood coated the smiling orange goldfish on the front of the snack bag. You were holding it against your chest, and unfortunately, your childhood friend knew you all too well, and you weren’t looking to swallow one last handful of Goldfish crackers moments before your death.

Satoru crouched down beside what could not even be considered half of your body.

When teardrops splattered on the scarred skin of your arm, only then did he realize he had been crying.

He had to yank your lifeless hand away from the bag as gently as he could. There was nothing on it when he turned it over in his palms, but when he opened the top and peered inside, there was a folded piece of paper.

He didn’t want to read it.

He wanted you to be here.

Brimming hot, angry tears blurred his vision, but he pulled the letter out of the bag, unfolded it with shaky hands he couldn’t wait to wrap around someone’s neck, and he read your final words.

Dear Toru,

Sorcerers are surrounding the house. It’s only a matter of time before they come inside and find me, so I apologize for my messy handwriting. I’m trying to write fast.

I could fight back, and maybe, just maybe, I’d win and I could find you and we could run away together, but you mentioned that you had students and friends who were also sorcerers, and for all I know, they could be the ones who are here right now. I won’t kill anyone who might be important to you.

I can hear someone outside arguing for me to be arrested rather than killed. He sounds young…a naive teenage boy, maybe. I appreciate him.

Satoru, you asked me why I killed four people today. Well, I did it to avenge my parents. After all these years, I found the group of bastards who murdered them. Now you know. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your life wondering.

I’m sorry about this. I really am. We found each other again, and we have to say goodbye already. It sucks. It isn’t fair.

Please, don’t try to avenge me. Don’t ruin your life for me. I’m not worth it.

I can hear them coming to the front door, so I should wrap this up. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid to die. I’m scared. I’m alone.

I love you, ‘Toru.

Sincerely, your “wife” (remember that?) & childhood friend

Satoru folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket, or, at least, he thought he did. He no longer felt in control of his own movements. He wasn’t certain if he was moving at all. Or blinking. Or breathing.

But he was.

He moved your head onto his lap, trying to gently scrape away the flakes of dried blood on your face. Satoru couldn’t speak — grief had snatched his voice away — but even if uttering a few words was a possibility, he wasn’t certain he could make the promise of respecting your dying wish to not seek vengeance.

All he could do was lean forward and plant a kiss on your forehead. Then, he ran his fingertips across your eyelids, closing your lifeless eyes, which the moonlight still shined upon.

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