#its not like i wanted him to come back or anything but seeing this shit wrecked my day like wow. we're never getting him again 😭 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldengirliez · 3 days

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STEALING MIKEY'S KEYS SO HE'S LATE FOR A MEETING>>>>>

09:32 pm

I believe that intimacy is the new kind of pure love. Getting to know someone on a deeper level is something that goes beyond simple attachment, it goes beyond the simple but necessary need of validation.

Being intimate means getting on the same frequency level as a person and communicating effectively with each word, each action, and each stare.

Intimacy isn't something you only find under the sheets until sweat, tears and arousal dampen the mattress. Its true nature lies in between the actions of your everyday life, moments that don't need any kind of particular reason to happen and yet feel special because you are there, you are connected.

You have realised such a thing only briefly as the air is getting in and out of your lungs hectically, your breath coming short and irregular and the adrenaline rushing through your veins full speed with each pump of your vital muscle.

Your legs almost shake and your feet ache slightly, your eyes darting to the person in front of you with an excited and rebellious glimmer, the glint of life.

You've been running away from Mikey for the last ten minutes because you had taken the keys to his motorbike.

He has been spending every evening with Toman recently, not passing by your home to even say goodnight because the meetings always finish late at night.

You know that he always tries his best to make it up to you for the lost time with his ways of bringing your favourite sweets to school, taking you home and around the city with his bike whenever you need to, sending you a sweet message randomly throughout the day to check up on you, never missing the opportunity to hug you, kiss you or keeping you close when you pass by, and yet… You can't help but miss him more than anything.

You tried to talk to him about it but he prefers for you to not get too involved in his gang business: he fears your safety, not wanting hundreds of testosterone-filled guys to get close to his beloved.

You fear nothing when he's by your side but he still turns you down when you ask to come along with him: he has lost too many people he cared about for his good and he has no intention of putting you in danger even the slightest.

This had to change.

That's why you're preventing him from heading to the meeting of Toman until he makes up his mind.

“Y/N! I'm gonna be late, please, give me those darn keys back, goddamnit!!”

His voice spurts out desperately, short puffs of air coming out of his mouth as he tries to catch his breath: you're fast for fuck’s sake!

He is a bit pissed at you for acting this stubborn, sure, but he can't help the wide smile that plasters on his face the more he hears you laugh every time he can't catch you, every time you hide behind his motorbike and fool him by running in the opposite direction, almost tripping on your own feet.

That smile of yours, that light in your eyes is worth every spare minute of his life and the meeting can wait if that means he has the chance to see you this full of energetic playfulness.

You're both in the flowers of your youth and sometimes you forget that due to how harsh life experiences can be. Moments like these make up for the lost time.

As you raise your hand high and shake his keys, making them jingle as you do so, you can't help but feel overpowered by pride: having your super athletic boyfriend, the invincible Mikey whining out to you so he can get what he wants isn't an everyday occurrence (I mean– unless he's begging for sweets or your attention, of course). Maybe you could break him and he would finally let you come along in one of his meetings.

“Begging ain't gonna do shit, you gotta work for it, Mikey!”

Sprinting to the other side of the garden of his house, you can feel him sigh exasperatedly and follow you along as he mutters “If I catch you–" in between a breathy laugh.

The wind feels magical against your skin, the cool breeze of the night after a heated summer day gives you goosebumps and yet you feel hot all over; your blood pressure rising with each stride of your run is what keeps you going, laughing nonstop as you stare up the full moon over your head briefly, savouring such a moment that will surely become a core memory of yours.

As you hide behind his motorbike once again, Mikey stops a few feet away from you, the vehicle is the only thing separating your bodies.

“You’re a menace, y/n!”

You shrug at his words, rotating his keys on the tip of your index finger with a proud expression.

“I guess that dating a delinquent made the trick– eek!”

You can't even finish your sentence as Mikey takes a run-up and easily jumps over his CB250T and lands not so graciously on top of you, making you fall on the grass with a thud. The impact doesn't hurt that much though, not when Mikey put a hand behind your head right on time so you couldn't injure the slightest.

He couldn't resist the urge to bring you down and wipe off your face that shit-eating grin and see that cute pout your peachy lips make every time he catches you by surprise. He's a weak man, bear with him.

Pinning you down on the floor he takes away his keys from your hand and smiles toothly: his rosy cheeks and messy hair shine under the moonlight, his obsidian gems staring into your soul easily make you melt and your initial annoyance turns into an amused laugh. He's your angel, no matter what.

“Sorry, what were you saying about dating a delinquent?”

Rolling your eyes at his statement, your smile slowly fades when he gets off you and brushes some grass away from your shirt with his hand, before kissing the top of your head with the soft petals of his lips.

He was going to leave again and that thought screeches inside your brain. It doesn't sit well with you the fact that he's keeping you detached from a big aspect of his life… There's a strong gut feeling that tells you you shouldn't let it slide, you should insist on being part of this area of his life because, if you don't, something extremely bad will happen in the future.

And Mikey sees right through you, he always does, because he loves you and he is connected to your being in every way for respect and admiration.

He feels the intimate bond you two share, he can almost touch that connection, he can feel the burn of the red string that connects the two of you.

He can feel his bones ache under the weight of letting you drown away from him so sad and helpless and whenever he sees your angelic face darken out of worry and fear for him, for the both of you.

He knew why you took the keys away from him that day and he couldn't help finding it amusing and cute... but believe me when I say he's not blind and recognises the desperate attempt to have yourself near him for longer.

Mikey stands up from the ground and offers you his hand to stand up, his calloused hand brushes against your tender palm and holds in a strong and warm hold that doesn't flatter even when you're finally standing.

Staring down at your feet, your voice comes out in a whisper, a loving but pained one.

“Please, be careful Mik–”

“Hop on.”

Your head snaps up, your eyes searching for his out of confusion and then hope.

The two of you are intimate, you understand each other's worries and can feel them within your organs, you can feel each emotion run through your being and resonate like a magnetic wave from you to him and vice versa.

You two are flames that burn for love, with love: your glint should never flatter, you deserve to feel it alive and vibrating.

Mikey smiles at you as he puts his helmet on top of your head and secures it attentively.

“I'll keep you safe, pinkey promise”.

That's your man to you.

I have had this idea bouncing inside my head for a while now! I've been inspired by this post of the sweet @xsleepinggoodx.

I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.

English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes!

Sending y'all hugs. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

©GOLDENGIRLIEZ do not repost or modify on any platform.

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carmenized-onions · 3 days

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I Want To. | Wellness Check

logline; Such is life, you go from not being needed at The Bear today to being more needed than you ever have been.

[!!!] series history, this is the fourth; First, Second, Third

portion; 4.7k+

possible allergies; a dash of Tony's former paramedic background (and just medical shit in general) in this one, so, a sprinkle of post-trauma stress (and her usual yikes psyche). Mikey comes up a bit, as usual! despite the ops, we ball.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (pretty unavoidably gendered episode, mb non-fem folks)

we'll talk after babe, have a good time w/ this one.

Falling asleep was easy— par for Carmen fighting to keep his 6:30 am alarm on. When he finds out you don’t have a plug on his side of the bed and he has to charge his phone on your side, he turns it off. Cute.

Well, there’s also the part where you had to ask if he was okay because it sounded like he wasn’t breathing and it turns out —He was not breathing— He then pointed out that it sounded like you weren’t breathing —You were not breathing— Both of you thought the sound of your lungs would bother the other, so you opted not to use them at all. Turns out, counterproductive; you notice each other’s absences pretty well.

But besides that, it's easy. Carmen isn’t an awful bedfellow. He’s not super shifty, he doesn’t tug the blanket, he doesn’t roll all the fucking way over to your side, or anything like that. He’s honestly concerningly still. Is he annoyed that you’ve gotta toss and turn a little to get comfortable? Probably. He's probably dreaming of you exploding right now, he’s so annoyed. He didn’t make fun of your ages old build-a-bear plush nor it’s Cubs jersey, so that was nice. Pity, probably.

...If Carmen wasn’t here, he knows he’d be stirring and kicking and probably sleep-walking to his oven to light it on fire. But he is here. Where kicking would hurt. Where stirring would wake you. Where a fire would cause more anxiety than relief because all your plants and projects would die. Where you washed his hair and told him that taking care of people doesn’t feel like a lot of work to you. Was it not a lot of work, to take care of his brother? Was it worth it, to you? Probably not. How could it be?

He wills his body to not fucking move because if he does it's going to ruin everything. He's going to ruin everything.

He wakes up at 6:30 on the dot, alarm or no. He’d be concerned if his body functioned any differently. But he can’t get to his phone while you’re sleeping in his way and you’re so comfortable. You’re clutching a bear that’s undeniably on a losing team and you’re at peace with it. He’s trying not to make a metaphor out of this in his mind; alas, it’s already there. The only thing he can do is go back to sleep and dream about killing the teenage boy in his head before he can escape again and call you pretty.

It's around ten when you wake up, you try not to wake him when you turn to grab your phone, but the split second of motion makes him flinch like he’s about to get jumped. “Relax!” You hiss, but like, soft, whispered. “I’m doin’ the fuckin’ Wordle, not smothering you with a pillow.”

“You do the Wordle?”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“The first fuckin’ thing you do in the morning is the Wordle?”

“And I do the Crossword too, bitch, what of it?”

“…I like Connections.”

“I fuckin' hate Connections.”

“Alright, damn!”

The Chicago accent in both of you is stronger in your rasping morning voices. As is the laughter. You roll onto your stomach to get closer to him and let him see your screen. Neither of you have entirely woken up yet and that means it’s the perfect time to do a puzzle. If you don't focus on this puzzle right now, you fear you will get too comfortable in this idea of domesticity.

“C’s in the right place. Nothin’ else though.”

He’s the one that figures out its Cumin. You pretend not to be mad about this. You’re furious. Of course, it’d be a spice on the day Mr Food Guy sleeps over. Bullshit.

When you finally sit up, stretch, and say, “I’m just gonna shower real quick ‘nd—”

He’s at a breakneck speed to reply, “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh, you cook all the fuckin’ time, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You blink, then shrug, the man likes to cook, c’est la vie. “Who am I to refuse?”

He looks far too happy about this, as though he’s won a lottery. A lottery of manual labour. He rolls out of bed, grabbing his back pack stuffed with yesterday’s clothes before leaving you to your own devices. In a literal sense, too, since you get a text. Ugh.

‘Gigi called in, can you reach?’

You would prefer not to reach, but this is capitalism.

‘When's the shift?’

‘6:30 to 12:30’

Why couldn’t something else at The Bear be fuckin’ broken today?

‘yeah i can reach’

‘that’s my girl, red tops today, see u’

You have also won the lottery of manual labour today. Look at you and Carm, luckiest people alive. Something like that. Alright, go shower and be normal about the fact that there’s a Michelin Star Chef making you breakfast in your kitchen. And he’s prett—

“You make your own bread.”

“I do.” You sit at your own little breakfast nook, waiting to be served. Towel hung around your neck post shower. You’d offer to help, but based on his urgency to cook for you, it’s gonna be a no. Plus, the gift on the table you’ve got for him is going to piss him off enough, can't poke this bear too much. He's already given you a mile. Too many idioms.

“I like to think in another universe I am a homesteader who makes her own soaps and renders tallow n’ shit. But I settle for growing basil and making sourdough in my shitty little Chicago apartment for now.”

“I like your apartment.” He hums, though amused. He turns and sets your plate—the one black plate— in front of you with a small smile. This smile immediately falls when he pushes the plate towards you and you push a travel bag of toiletries towards him.

“Fuck is this?”

“I don’t want to hear any complaints, Irish Spring.”

“How d’you know I use Irish Spring?”

“It’s all five of your routine, it’s going to be pungent— Now listen.” You pick up the bag; you’d dug through your sink cabinet and found a dollar store pack of plastic travel bottles, unused from cancelled trips of yesteryear. You've decanted your own products for him. It's fine, you buy jumbo sizes anyways...

“Shampoo, conditioner, face wash—They’ve even got labels.”

He takes the bag from you, setting it down on his side of the counter, begrudgingly. Though he hasn’t particularly paid it much mind, tunnelled on something else entirely, “Do you not like Irish Spring?”

"I didn't give you a body wash, you can still use it for that one purpose."

"Yeah, but do you not like Irish Spring?"

"...I think it's fine."

“Fine?”

“I’m more of an Old Spice fan.”

“You don’t deserve breakfast—” He pulls your plate, you pull it back.

“All I said—” “Thinkin’ I smell like shit—” “Did not say that—!” “Just cause you use the fruity stuff—” “I smell good! Deny that I smell good!” “You smell fine.” “Wowww—Whatever, do the thing.”

“Bruschetta with a breakfast twist.” Ah, that makes him give you the plate back. His kink is explaining food. “Sourdough toasted, topped with fresh basil—”

“Courtesy of me.”

“Courtesy of you, yes. Tomatoes, bacon glazed in balsamic, and you didn’t have parm so I used feta. And then, y’know, over medium egg on top.”

“You’re very good, Carmen.”

“Oh, I—Uh—” You haven’t even tried it yet. You’re telling him he’s good for the sake of the effort he’s given alone. He needs an antacid. “Thank you.”

It’s redundant to say his food is good. But what else can you say? It’s a fucking perfect open face sandwich. But he’s eating it with you, and half of it’s your own handiwork, and all of your pantry, so you leave your praises purely reaction based, unsaid.

You're honestly a little distracted, reading too hard into the act of him giving you the black plate and taking one of your shitty plastic ones for himself. Time to talk.

“Itinerary for today?”

“Gotta talk chaos menu with Syd before opening, then, well, running the restaurant all night… And then I’ll—I’ll go home.”

“Yeah? You can come back here, if you want to.” Thank God you took a bite in time to hide your selfish disappointment. It’s good for him to go home, but then he’s not here. Real Catch-22.

He shakes his head, “I think I’m good now. Thanks, though. What’s—What’s uh, your plans for today?”

“I’m gonna drop you off wherever you’re going, n’ then I’m gonna go shopping for Syd’s gift—”

“It’s her fuckin’ birthday or somethin?” It’s a delight how immediately panicked he is by this. You're also thankful because he's so distracted it means you won't have to tell him the rest of your plans for today. You'd like to keep that life separate. For as long as possible, at least.

“Nono, it’s just, I didn’t get her anything for her opening night and I wanna change that. I’ll get you something too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” The very idea of waiting for his response is freaking you the fuck out, so you’re quick to clear your voice and add. “I’ll give you my number, in case you end up needing to crash.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Ey, text me your invoice too.”

You take both your cleared plates to the sink, and the lie is swift. You've gotten a lot better at that, in the past year.

“Oh no worries, your sister already covered it.”

It is 6:30 and your life is over. Kidding. Unless? You dropped off Carmen at the train station hours ago and, to use his words, ‘it’s hit’. He’s at The Bear and there’s nothing for you to fix there— So you’re not.

You’ve only been there like three times and yet it started to feel… Like your thing!

Like, like you’d just come in everyday and… Dunno, fix something... But it’s not like they’re gonna have a crisis everyday. Especially not ones that Fak can't handle himself if needed— There's no way he's gonna last at hosting, anyways. You’re now realizing the unrealistic dream— Possibly more unrealistic than homestead you.

Speaking of, Homestead You would probably throw up, if she saw the you you’re looking at in the mirror right now. You look good. Objectively, you know you look good. The mug is stamped. Your pants are black, high-waisted, and give you an ass. The bright red leather corset top is… Chafing, but it looks good! It's a sweetheart neckline so you have to take off your long rope chain necklace from Mikey and shove it in your pocket— Which is fine and doesn't feel bad at all. And listen, listen, being an on-call bottle girl is good money!

And you might get put on bar tonight! You don’t know for sure if you’re gonna have to juggle around lit up bottles for a bunch of fucking geezers!

...

God, fuck, it’s 10:20 and your life is over.

This group of geezers have been fucking annoying and fucking Cherry wouldn’t get off fucking bar even though you literally covered for her last week and these stupid grandpas asked if gratuity is included— No fucking shit! Did you take their card and put a 40% tip? Yeah, maybe. Fuck them! They’re too fucking rich to notice! And they took three hours to leave! Gonna bash this champagne bottle over his bald fucking—

“Ey! That’s a face I remember.”

You hear your name— Not Tony, not Chip, not Cousin. Your name.

You turn to see, oh fucking hell, let God kill you—

“Uncle J!~ Good to see you!~ What a surprise! It’s Jack, here.” Jack of all Trades. It was cute at the time of sign up. Your smile is bright, fake, strained, and beautiful.

“Been too long, really.” Cicero isn’t a bad guy—Correction: Cicero isn’t a bad guy, to you, but as Mikey once put it, he’s a fuckin’ ball buster and in your case, you’re one of the few people beneath him that he asks favours from. Always wants free labour and your expertise. And he always has a habit of asking for favours the second you need one back. But you don’t need one right now! So it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

“Do your Uncle a favour,”—Fully not your Uncle—“Could you pair me and my friends here with a good red?”

You let it go that they’re having fish and asking for a red. Stupid thing to get hung up over right now. You make a commission of it anyways; you just pick the most expensive bottle. He won’t know the difference. The Bear would know the difference. Carmen would notice the difference... Alright, relax.

While pouring glasses, Jimmy whispers to his compatriots and one by one they all peel off. It is almost alarming how quickly this group of men turn and leave without a second thought, taking their glasses with them.

You raise your brows and look at Cicero. “Ah. This is the moment where I sit?”

He nods, gesturing to the booth. “This is the moment where you sit.”

You slip into the booth, sitting across from him. “What do you need?”

“Right to the point with you.”

“I hate suspense.” You shrug.

“You liked Mikey.”

What the fuck?

You bite your inner cheek, hard. “Don’t say that shit.”

“I liked him too,” He says it solemnly, like your mutual grief is a proper apology. He takes a long sip of his stupid red wine. “Did you hear? Cousin Vinnie and Mira are gettin’ hitched, finally.”

“I have no fucking idea who Vinnie and Mira are.” You take the glass when he hands it to you, taking a sip. Small. You gotta drive home, after all.

“Really? It’s a big wedding—Destination too, in New York—”

“I hate to remind you, but I was friends with Mikey, not his family.” Not his biological one, at least. The Beef, sure. But you literally only met his siblings two days ago. “What’s a wedding gotta do with me?”

He bristles, and finally cuts it short. “Around three hundred guests, seven-hour shift, open bar—” “Oh, for fuckssake—” “Listen—”

“It’s an easy gig, I’ll fly you out for it, it’s a month and a half away, you’ll get to attend a big fuckin’ Italian wedding— Which will be a shitshow, certainly, so free entertainment; and Michelin Star level catering, kind of.”

You squint. Kind of? “You got Carmy in on this shit?”

“You know ‘em?”

You nod, pressing your elbows on the table, “We’ve recently become acquainted. What d’you got on him for him to cater a wedding?”

“He’s eight-hundred grand in the hole.” “Fuck!” “He gets thirty off for catering. Smart boy, said yes.”

Christ, you massage the bridge of your brow with one hand and pull out your phone with another to check your calendar, you might as well see if you can even entertain the idea. You don’t need a favour right now, maybe you can bargain and get him to actually pay you for it, this time.

“I dunno, Uncle J…”

Oh.

28 unread texts from Syd.

3 unread texts from an unknown number— Probably Carmen.

9 missed calls from Syd.

Uncle Jimmy, always, always, has a fucking way, of asking for a favour when you need one…

You slam your phone, screen down on the table, straightening your posture in your seat. “I have demands.”

He motions for you to continue, taking his wine glass back. “You always do.”

“You and your friends are gonna tip a hundred percent tonight.”

“That why you give me a 2016 Fisher?”

“I like to think ahead.”

“Smart girl.” He shrugs, palms of his hands out. Which means yes.

“If Uncle Lee comes up to the bar I’m throwing a fork at him and leaping over the counter.”

He chuckles, “Thought you 'didn’t know family'.”

“I remember what I'm told.”

His amusement fades quickly, remembering first hand. He nods. “…You’re allowed to jump him if I’m watching first.”

“And you’re friends with my boss, right?”

“We’re acquainted.”

“I’m gonna punch out now and you’re gonna smooth that out for me.”

He perks up, amused, glancing at your phone, “Somethin’ come up, Chip?”

“Don’t call me Chip.” He wants to poke at you, just a little bit more, but there’s a rattled look in your eyes that he’s so rarely seen that he lets it go.

He waves his hand, shrugging, “Be safe. I'll send you the details. December wedding, remember.”

At the end of the day, Cicero isn’t a bad guy to you, someone who loved his nephew as much as he did.

You’re running to your car while you dial back Syd. You don’t have time to read the texts, all you need to know is that it’s an emergency. She picks up just after the first ring.

“Syd what the—” “Code blue!”

You almost fall on your face and eat asphalt. For a flash, you’re in the back of an ambulance being handed a defibrillator at the age of 22, surrounded by faces just as scared and young as you. Then you’re back in the parking lot, slotting the key into your car door because the fob doesn’t work. It’s never worked.

“S-Someone’s having a fucking heart attack!?”

“What?!”

“That’s what fucking code blue means!”

“Oh my god! Sorry! No, I was just saying the thing that scares doctors the most!”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ scared Syd!” You slide into the driver’s seat and slam your car door shut. You take a deep breath, white knuckling the steering wheel. “…I’m-I'm sorry for yelling! Where are you, what’s going on?”

“The—The Bear, the restaurant.” The second you have a location you’re revving off.

“Nat locked herself in the office—” “Like trapped?” This shit again?

“No, no— Like she locked herself in— She did this like two hours ago and I thought she was just taking a breather— But we’ve closed and, and like almost everyone left and she’s still not coming out— And she blocked the door inside— and— And I think she’s trying to hide that she’s basically shrieking in pain every five minutes.”

You take a long time to register anything she’s just said. Her tone is as panicked as you feel on the inside. You’re only now registering the ambient yelling of Richie and Carmen in the background.

“…Did—Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah Syd, I’m just thinking.” You don’t step on the gas on purpose, it just happens. “A pregnant woman is screaming in pain— in intervals— behind a blockaded door?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you called an ambulance?”

There’s a much more distinct yell in the background from Richie, “No cops!”

Then from Carmen, “No coverage!”

“Yeah…” Syd shakily continues for them, “The insurance is a problem, and Richie said— Motherfucker—” You hear a muffled scrap over the phone before Richie continues on for Syd.

“Er, yeah, Cousin, Sugar keeps yelling that she’s fine ‘n blocked the door, if we call the cops they’re gonna ram that shit down and take her to the loony bin.”

“That’s not— That’s not what paramedics do.”

“That’s what they all do.”

“Richie, y’know, I was a paramedic, right?”

“…You a fuckin’ fed, Chip?”

“Richie, if I was a fuckin' narc you would be in prison by now. I, I— I'll be there in like, like eight minutes, everyone stop fucking yelling at Sugar!”

You’re there in four. You almost rear end someone and you run every yellow you get but you’re there in four. You don’t park properly in the back, you just drive your car in and turn it off in the middle of the lot. You don’t bother to be let in, you just punch the code in as you remember it. As Natalie told you.

“Oh good you—Oh my, God?” Syd is no better than a man in this moment, going from grateful for your presence to being one intrusive thought away from whistling.

You did not have time to change out of your ...outfit and someone has been hogging your Carhartt. You pass Syd quickly, waving a hand in front of her face. Goddammit, why do your boot heels have to have that incredibly satisfying femme fatale click right now?

“Alright— Relax—”

“Holy shit, Chippy!” Richie was yelling at Sugar through the door along with Carm, but once alerted to your presence is now snapping his fingers. You'd describe him more as impressed than actually attracted to you. “You clean up!”

“Cousin, are you—” He grabs Carmen’s face, turning it to you— Carmen does of course, immediately slap Richie’s hand away which of course, means they just start smacking each other's hands. Like preteen girls. “Ey, get the fuck off—” “I just want you to look at a pretty girl, Cousin—!” “Stop fuckin’ touchin’ me!” “Are you looking!?” “I—”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!”

You silence the room. You’re thankful most of the staff has left by now since it’s well after close. It's just Carmen, Syd, Richie, Tina, and Fak for some goddamn reason...You can't be mean you're handymen, you have to stick together.

“I look different from the usual jumpsuit, yes, we get it, can we move on? Pregnant woman?”

Syd is the first to speak, “…Were you on a date, though?”

You blink and roll your eyes all at once, twisting your head to her, “Syd—”

“It’s good to see you getting out there, baby.” Tina, deeply unhelpful in this moment, puts a hand around your shoulder. Oh to have a mother’s judgment when she’s not even your mother.

“O-kay!” You drag on the ‘kay’, clapping your hands together, “Everyone, just get your thoughts out in the next five seconds and then we’re moving on.”

“Chippy, I cannot believe you’ve held this out on me—” “—I meant it like-like a concerned, did we interrupt your date—” “—The red is unbelievable on you, Cousin!” “I need you to teach me how you do your makeup—” “Can you— can you yell again—?” “Fak!” “Oh, so that’s too much?”

A cacophony, it continues on. Your eyes glaze over, and you’re waiting for Sugar to let out a scream so everyone remembers the fucking point of being here. But then you look at Carmen. Everyone’s pivoted from staring at you to yelling at each other. But Carmen; Carmen is still looking at you. Stupid soft scary eye contact. And his voice is so much quieter than the yelling but it’s the thing that you hear anyways.

“It looks tight.”

There’s a possibility that when you killed the teenage girl inside you that you also killed the feminist. Because there’s a small sub-sect of you that’s upset that he’s not objectifying you right now. That his vision is focused on you. Not the changes. He doesn’t seem to look at you any differently than when you’re wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt, covered in toilet water. This should not be annoying and yet it is.

“It is.”

He nods, eye contact unshifting, unblinking, “You wanna change?”

“Maybe after we find out whether or not your sister is in labour.”

He nods. He takes a second but he nods.

You approach him, rather, the door, knocking gently. Everyone quiets down.

You clear your throat, and once more, the persona is put on, you’re a paramedic, putting on that soft but firm reassuring authoritative tone. “E-M Rescue, I got a call for a wellness check on Natalie Berzatto?”

“Tony—” A groan of pain behind the door, “I am perfectly well! Everyone go home!”

You grimace, you motion with your hand for Fak to hand you a screwdriver— He keeps one in his breast-pocket, even when wearing a suit. Hey, you should start doing that.

“Nat, I’m a paramedic— Or I was—will you please let me in?”

“I don’t— Fuck! —Need a paramedic!”

“Never hurts to do a check-up, Nat.” You speak calmly, like you always did. “Listen, lover, if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna have to take it off its hinges, and we're gonna lose medic patient confidentiality.”

When she doesn’t reply after a good beat, you start to unscrew the top hinge; she can hear it, “Wait, wait, wait— Fuck-Fuck— I’m opening it!”

There’s another series of pained groans as she exerts herself to open the door, and once she does, it’s only by a crack, to look at you and you alone. She’s absolutely been crying. She speaks in a whispered tone. “Just you.”

You nod, handing the screwdriver back to Fak without breaking eye contact with her. “Just me.”

She cracks it open just enough for you to come in. And so, you do. Everyone is, for the first time, too worried about her shutting down to interrupt or yell a complaint.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back to it. You note the toppled over chair by your feet that she must’ve blocked it with. Plus the puddle of amniotic fluid beneath her. Oh fuck.

...

“You wanna talk or do you just want me to check your contractions?”

“I’m—” She shakes her head, covering her face. She half sits on the desk. “I’m fucking— I am not ready for this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re not here to convince anyone they’re ready to be a fucking mother. But you’re here to listen, certainly.

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“Who?”

“Her—!” Her voice is choked, another contraction. You’re silently taking the time in your head. She points to her stomach.

“And— And we just opened, and— And I’m gonna have to go on maternity leave, which is the last fucking thing we need and— and— If I could just fucking keep her in!”

“Natalie.” You put a hand on her shoulder, she finally looks at you. “This is happening.”

“Not help—fu—ll.”

“I know it’s not. This is scary and there are no take backs—” “Very unhelp—”

“Nat, your daughter wants to meet you.”

You squeeze her shoulder; she looks like she’s gonna cry all over again for a completely different reason. “She probably won’t hate you. Who’s to say. But I know you’ll love her. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”

She nods, emphatically, but something is still bothering her. You squeeze her shoulder again. You whisper, so even if everyone’s ear is pressed to the door— Which you doubt, she’s screaming after all, they won’t hear.

“Carmen will still know you love him, even when you're not here.”

She immediately goes for a hug, you reciprocate with a shuddered ease. She sniffs, head on your shoulder. She stays there for a while before letting you go, nodding. “Okay.”

You hand her the tissue box next to her on the table, she takes it thankfully, crushing it in her hand. Another contraction. Oh, that couldn't have been more than 2 minutes. Oh fuck.

You kneel down in front of her, and you’re simply no longer in your body as a person but just the paramedic. You could not be more thankful that she’s wearing a dress today. Awkward requests of spreading legs and pulling off underwear aside, Natalie’s daughter does in fact really want to meet her. Oh fuck.

You look up at Natalie, between her knees, you speak cool, professional. “You’re crowning. This is gonna have to happen here. I'll have someone call your husband.”

You’re so calm that it doesn’t give Natalie the feeling or need to freak out, she just breathes. “Okay. Okay.”

You stand upright. “Do you prefer this office or somewhere else?”

“I can’t— Move.”

“Makes sense. Makes total sense. Okay. I’ll go get everything we need, I’ll be right back. I might send some people in, okay, love?”

She just grunts in reply, nodding, now that she’s not in as much emotional pain, she can entirely focus on her brutalizing physical pain.

“Oh, hey, I know—” You grab her purse, pulling out her phone and ear buds, handing them to her with haste, your calm demeanour is faltering just a bit. “Listen to some music, loud, y’know, chill…” You put the pods in her ear for her. She’s again, in too much pain to tell you to fuck off, and just plays her music loud.

You softly open the door, smiling just a bit too much as you leave, and very softly close the door behind you. Looking at the motley crew before you, your persona immediately falls apart. You really only wanted her to play music so you could scream. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“What’s happening, she good?” What a sweet, stupid brother, Sugar has.

You purse your lips together, eyes wide, shaking your head. “She’s going to give birth in like— Maybe six minutes. Max ten.” Everyone goes to speak in an uproar of panic, and then you slap yourself in the face. Hard. That stuns them silent.

“Alright!” You press your hands over your eyes, “Tina!”

She’s been around this block before, “What do you need?”

“Can you go sit in there with her? Tell her all the breathing exercises and shit? Keep her calm? Coming from you it won’t seem so—”

“Condescending as fuck?”

“Yes, exactly, can you?”

“Gotchu, baby.” She claps your shoulder when she walks past and into the office.

You clap hers in tandem, “Thank you, Mama—Okay, Richie!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need you to call Nat’s husband—”

“Why do I—”

“Because you’re a fuckin’ dad, Rich, and he will need you!” You’re yelling all pissed, snapping your fingers at him, but he does light up when you say it like that. “I don’t care if he wets his fuckin’ bed, tell him to get here!”

He salutes, walking off, “Aye aye, Cap’n Chip.”

You shake off the sting in your hand, God, you really did slap yourself too hard. You turn to the next targets. “Syd, Fak.”

Syd responds hesitantly for the both of them, since Fak is silently enjoying your colonel persona a little too much. “…Yes, C-Captain?”

“I need towels, a lot of clean towels— cloth ones, like sanitized clean— Warm half in water— And then I need a clean sheet— A table cloth or something, I don’t fucking care, something clean and big that you’re fine destroying. I need sterile sheaths, Syd you get those— Other than that, however they get to me, I don’t give a shit— Just scrub in before you touch anything!”

They almost knock into each other the way they run so fast. You yell after them. “Get the big sheet first, she needs to lay down!”

“Yes, Chef!”

You take a deep breath before moving your gaze onto Carmy. The screaming lead EM in you melts off your shoulders, just for the second.

He asks before you can even say anything, “Yes, Chef?”

“I need you to scrub in and get me gloves and an apron—” “On it, Chef—” “And you’re gonna sit in with me for the birth of your niece.”

He cringes, not to refuse, but just the mounting reality of the situation is dawning on him. His sister is going to give birth to his niece in their shared office of his high-class restaurant within it's first week of open.

But you then tag on, “Carmy, she needs you— Frankly, I’m not the one giving birth but fuckin' I need you. T-There.”

He softens instantly, like tranquilizing— Well, a bear.

“Yes, Chef.”

I know the opening probably feels so far away by now, but i do want to note that Breakfast Bruschetta is my own recipe that I used to make like every fuckin' day pre-employment. It's so goddamn good. I highly recommend it, babes. It's balsamic with brown sugar dissolved, btw, Carmy's just a quick explainer.

I wrote like a solid 75% of the labour sequence before deciding it just needed to have the breathing room of it's own chapter, so until next time for that one bbs. But I'm excited for it! And also dreading it! A lot of hard conversations combined with giving birth = nightmare to write, but well worth it, i think. Speaking of: I don't believe at the end of Season 2 that Sugar is at the end of her term of 36 weeks, but in our case here, she is. I'm very much so not interested in a very scary premature birth for our girl!! She's okay!! Dw!! I just wonked with time a little, hope that's okay.

And hey, look at that reveal! Bartender/Sommelier was code for bottle service-- Which is a very respectable career, btw, don't get it twisted-- I was critiquing it only in the way I would critique literally any other job: Misery Under Capitalism. And now we've got that fuckin' wedding in the future midst! Ah!!

Anyways please send me your thoughts ad nauseam, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking. If you reblog, tell me what you think in the tags!! Yell at me in the replies!! Send an anon in!! I don't bite, I swear <3

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #carmy the bear #the bear fx

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slavicbee · 3 days

Text

This whole situation with Fico is so bizzare to me. While I do not want him to die, he sort of put this on himself with the way he’s been putting blame on anybody but himself. And he had it coming, whether we like it or not.

No person in the Slovak politics is as divisive as he is. Some people blindly worship the ground he walks on, some people relentlessly criticise him, and some people downright hate his guts. True, I have my own grievances with him, and I’d rather not have him anywhere near the amount of power he has. But he does. And he’s been shot.

The repercussions of this are potentially very severe. His already unreasonably high animosity towards the freedom of speech will worsen and the coalition, which, let’s not lie to ourselves, is extremely conservative, corrupt and prone to power trips, can and already is blaming the press, the independent journalists, and the liberal opposition.

They do not see that no normal representative member of the opposition, which is already trying to do everything in its power to gain the trust of the conservative public, would stoop this low, and that a move like this could cost them any ounce of following they have. They do not care. They will say anything, do anything, to push their propaganda to make themselves the victims.

The attack on Fico is a symptom of a larger issue. The parliament had already crumbled under its own pressure before, back when Matovič was the PM. With a historical event like this, I can see it crumbling again, and harder. This government is such a mess that I cannot see it surviving in any productive, healthy way.

At least for the moment, the world is watching. It may not give a shit, we rarely make the international news as it is, but at least for this brief moment, the world has its eyes on us. The government needs to realize that Slovakia is not a closed circle, and that we are a part of a larger picture, and that we are responsible for our future, that they are inscribing themselves into history books, culturing this hostile environment in which the ordinary citizen has to live.

I already predicted that things will get much worse before they get better. I will not be surprised if this is just the beginning.

#ťumbľr #slovakia #Robert Fico #assassination attempt

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stevestark · 1 day

Text

Eddie only gets told snippets of everyone else's Upside Down experiences after Vecna, like, the sanitized version. The story told by each person but omitting the most personally traumatizing parts. Which means he doesn't know much about Steve and Robin Versus The Russians. Not in its full, gory detail.

So he doesn't think anything of it when Steve has a day off and wants to hang out, just asks if he minds coming with him to Indianapolis. Steve says yes immediately because he just doesn't want to spend another day alone in his big empty house, even if it means several hours in Eddie's deathtrap of a vehicle.

But then they get there and Eddie is parking outside a tattoo parlor and saying he got a last minute booking with his favorite artist and that he's so excited to cover some of the scars he has from the bats and Steve can barely hear him over the fuzziness that seems to be filling his entire brain.

He lets Eddie guide him into the shop, watches Eddie and the tattooist make small talk, follows Eddie to the table, sits on the stool next to him, and tries to look anywhere but at the tattoo gun.

Eddie doesn't notice at first, too jazzed about the idea he and the artist have come up with, blabbering about how he can finally take his shirt off at the lake again. It's not until the line work is done that he realizes Steve's breathing has gone shallow.

He asks the artist if they can take a smoke break before filling the tattoo in with color, and he gently takes Steve's hand and pulls him out back to ask what's wrong. Steve's too deep into a panic attack to answer, so Eddie just puts Steve on the side opposite his new work and pulls him in close, squeezing him as tight as he can and just gently shushing him, running his hand through Steve's hair.

After a few minutes, Steve's breathing easier, and Eddie asks him again if he's okay.

"I'm fine, I just... I hate needles. Ever since the Russians drugged me and Robin. Can't be around them."

Eddie frowns, realizing this must be one of the parts of the story he knows they were keeping from him. "Why did Russians drug you?"

Steve sighs, pulls out of Eddie's grasp, and sits on the ground against the back wall of the tattoo shop. "Dustin picked up a Russian transmission, summer of '85. We translated it, found their secret base under the mall, and realized they were opening the Gate back up. But then we were seen, and to buy time, Robin and I let ourselves get caught so Erica and Dustin could escape and get help."

Eddie sits next to Steve, their knees bumping. "Erica Sinclair? God, that kid really is the most badass of all of us."

"Yeah," Steve laughs. "Anyway, the Russians beat the shit out of me, asking who do you work for and shit like that. Didn't believe me when I said Scoops Ahoy. So they brought in this Doctor and he drugged me and Robin to get us to talk. Just straight up jammed a big ass needle full of mystery drugs into my neck. Ever since then, needles freak me the fuck out. They had to strap me down in the hospital just to get an IV in me when Robin insisted I get the bat bites checked out."

Eddie runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Steve. I never would've brought you here with me if I knew."

"I know," Steve says quietly. "'S'not your fault. I'm trying to get better at being open about things like this but it's just..."

"Hard. Yeah. I wake up screaming most nights, and I can tell Wayne feels bad because he doesn't know what to do. Because he doesn't know what's causing it."

"Yeah," Steve sighs.

They sit quietly out there for another ten minutes before the tattooist comes back out to see if Eddie wants to keep going, and he glances at Steve, sees the way he's gone pale and rigid, and shakes his head. "Sorry, man, think we're gonna have to pick this up another time."

Eddie stands, grabs Steve's hand and hauls him to his feet, and walks inside, never once letting go of Steve. He sets an appointment for a few weeks from now, on a day he knows Steve is working, and they leave the shop.

The second they're in the car, Eddie sees the color returning to Steve's face, and he drives aimlessly through the city, finally stopping at a combination bookstore/cafe.

"Come on then, big boy," he says with a teasing grin. "I do believe I promised to teach you about Hobbits."

#steddie fic #drabble #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #just a passing thought I had whilst watching Steve and Robin get drugged

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theamityelf · 3 days

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Thinking about the mini senpais and how that affects the order of deaths (a little like in the mini THH au). Chapter 1 with Sayaka will probably be the same as canon and as you described. My main big first difference I think will be a change in Mondo and Taka’s relationship.

Like Taka is learning to be gentle with Mikan, and is also protective of her in general. And Mikan will probably find Mondo to be scary as well. On Mondo’s side, while Fuyuhiko and Mondo will buttheads, the yakuza is gonna be on Mondo’s side when it comes to anything Taka says, so their initial rivalries will probably be way worse influenced by their senpais.

There’s also Chihiro deciding to train himself. I think he would talk to Kazuichi about it, and the latter is like “There’s no way you can train with Mondo!! He’s a super scary guy and has got that Yakuza whispering in his ear!” I think Kazuichi convinces Chihiro to talk to Taka instead, mostly so that they can get help from Nekomaru (who has since been adopted by Taka) but I think Kazuichi would argue that the “moral compass” would never murder even if he can be annoying.

Toko tells Byakuya about Genocider Syo like canon, but also to ask him if he can look after Gundham if something happens to her. I’m not sure how Gundham would feel but I’m sure he would be concerned for Toko’s wellbeing. And Sonia would be so excited to meet THE Genocider Syo (sort of).

I’m not sure who would kill in chapter 2. Mondo could still have his break down and accidentally kill someone again, it just might be a different target. (Shit what if it’s Fuyuhiko?! He accidentally gets squashed!!)

This could all be different if Nagito gets the idea to share the secrets and tells Makoto to suggest it. But it’s Nagito so rather than to prevent deaths it’s more to see if the ultimates can overcome the despair of their secrets. So everyone gets to find out that Makoto wet the bed until 5th grade. Nagito’s reaction to that might be funny. Though sadly I don’t think it gets anyone else to fess up cuz everyone else’s are all a lot worse.

Anyway thanks to reading my gasbagging.

This is all golden, yes!

As much as I love Ishimondo (both as a platonic pair and a romantic one), I gotta agree that they probably wouldn't fall together as easily during this.

Although! I just imagined a version of the sauna scene where, in addition to asking Makoto to witness, they also have him hold their senpais for them (so, Nagito's on one shoulder, Fuyuhiko's on the other, Mikan's standing in the palm of his hand, and he's holding Taka's basket with Ibuki, Peko, and Nekomaru in the crook of his arm), and I find it really funny to imagine. Some of them are really invested in the endurance contest (Nekomaru asks for a higher vantage point, and Makoto only has so much shoulder space, so he's placed on top of Makoto's head.), and Ibuki is really affectionate toward Makoto because she feels bad about what happened with Sayaka.

And either Taka and Mondo end the contest early because Makoto has to go to bed so they have to take their senpais back, because the senpais are their responsibility, or, when Makoto says it's nighttime and he wants to go back to his room, Nekomaru shouts "SLEEPOVER!" and Makoto cares for six miniature people that night.

Either way, I agree with you that Taka and Mondo wouldn't get as close, at least not as quickly, as they do in canon. (I just had to include the sauna thing because the idea was fun for me, lol.) They're on more of a gradual enemies to friends or enemies to lovers track, which may or may not have time to reach its destination, because killing game.

Mikan doesn't like to be around Mondo, but Peko wants to be near Fuyuhiko and so advocates that they spend more time with Mondo, and Taka cares about everyone getting a voice, so when it's Peko's turn to choose, he offers to let Mikan hide in his pocket or back in the terrarium in his room. But she wants to stay with him.

Just to set some stuff up, in the social landscape of Chapter 2, Hifumi has been making little outfits because Celeste is now coping by living vicariously through Chiaki. So, she has Chiaki playing dress-up for her, styling after her, etc. Chiaki insists on continuing to wear her cat hoodie with the gothic lolita dresses, but other than that she's a pretty good sport about everything.

(Hifumi was given Celeste's sewing kit to do this, and he gave her his tool kit in trade. There was probably some joke about him being dominated, or giving away his manhood, or something like that, because I can't imagine Danganronpa would pass that up without comment.)

Aoi also asks Hifumi to make some tiny clothes, because she's worried that Akane's clothes don't fit her right. (When she asks Akane about it, Akane agrees that they don't really fit but basically says that they've always been like that so she's used to it.)

And since Hifumi interacts with both of them really respectfully and works really diligently, Mahiru is praising him for being reliable, and basically Hifumi has been swimming in female attention this chapter and does not know what to do with himself.

When Mondo accidentally upsets Chihiro, and Taka mentions that Mikan is scared of Mondo, Hifumi probably makes a joke about how some guys just don't know how to act around women.

(And there's no "ironic coming from you" response, because Hifumi is genuinely doing pretty great about that.)

Mondo blushes, but he's also like, "Hey, shut up! F you!" and stuff.

Byakuya is isolating himself from the group because he doesn't trust them, but Sonia is so bored with this. She is way too social to just be going straight from his room to the library and back every single day. As a result, Byakuya is more lenient with letting other people talk to him, for her sake.

This is mostly Makoto. He talks with Makoto, and Sonia with Nagito. Nagito talks with Sonia about the killing game, and how there's tons of historical precedent for royalty enjoying blood sport, and how the group is reaching their potential. She knows there's something off about him, but she's starved for social interaction and also this talk of royals and blood sport does appeal to her, in a perverse way.

It's an interesting vibe, because Makoto is bringing Byakuya slightly down to earth, and Sonia is slightly softening Byakuya's edge, but Nagito is making Sonia slightly less down to earth, and Byakuya is sharpening her edge. They're reaching a weird middle ground where Byakuya is less of a jerk and Sonia is less kind.

As a result of this, Byakuya orders Makoto to come sit with him every day. Sonia needs conversation, and also Byakuya has decided that he wants Makoto to make it out of here with him (to be his servant, of course), so he wants to keep Makoto close. Makoto still takes meals with the group, still mediates the sauna thing for Taka and Mondo, but he spends a lot of time in the library with Byakuya, this chapter.

He's still barred from the archive room, or whatever that room was called.

Then we do get the motive about revealing secrets.

Yes, Chihiro trains with Taka. Wholesome workouts for them!

Toko does tell Byakuya about Syo. Obviously, she waits for a time when Makoto isn't around, but Nagito finds out because Sonia is buzzing next time he talks to her, and while she of course doesn't tell him Toko's secret, her explanation for why she's excited gives him all the pieces to figure it out. He might sprinkle her with pepper, like I mentioned last time, which might cause a killing, if he gets a chance to explain to her that her secret will be revealed otherwise.

I think Mondo would seriously be considering killing someone to protect his secret. Like, I imagine him pacing in his room, not wanting to kill anyone but thinking about what would happen to the Crazy Diamond if it got out.

Fuyuhiko puts aside his prickly demeanor and fully becomes both the older student and the professional criminal. "Okay, so you want to kill someone. Are you ready to seriously follow through? You think you can cover up a murder, if it means everyone in your class dies? If you fail, and you die, what happens to your gang then?"

Mondo decides he definitely shouldn't kill someone. Whatever happens when the secret is revealed, he'll face it like a man. Because he's strong. He's a man, and he's strong. (He's hanging by a thread, but his commitment to specifically not killing someone is strengthened by his talk with Fuyuhiko.)

Optional zag, which isn't entirely in character but just the outline of a murder that can happen:

Little does he know! During the senpais' sleepover with Makoto, Nagito planted some seeds by bringing up Fuyuhiko's sister, the "mysterious" circumstances of her death, and just generally musing that the senpais aren't really a part of the killing game in the same way the others are. Fuyuhiko's trying to be there for his kouhai, but lowkey he is also pretty riled up.

So maybe he suggests that Mondo let out his frustration by (non-lethally) punching that guy who insulted him in front of everybody. After all, Hifumi "looks like he can take a hit", and it's been a long time coming. (Fuyuhiko might have said something like "You gonna let him say that sh!t to you?" when it happened.) If Mondo is keyed up about the motive, then just punching someone who deserves it should make him feel better, and then he can move on.

(Fuyuhiko isn't really aiming to kill Mahiru, at least not consciously, but if Hifumi does fall over and crush Mahiru to death by accident, then that's not a murder in terms of the killing game; Hifumi broke the rule about losing his senpai, but Mondo and Fuyuhiko aren't guilty of anything.)

In this situation, I'm imagining Hifumi brings Mahiru to Taka, hoping Mikan can do something to help her, and Hifumi leaves Mahiru with them and gets killed while he's away. So, Taka shows up to breakfast the next morning with Hifumi's senpai, not knowing that Hifumi is dead. The killer could be Sakura or Toko. Technically, it could also be Hiro. It doesn't feel in character for it to be Hiro, but I also don't have anything else for him to do.

(If Toko is the Chapter 2 killer, then Byakuya takes Gundham once she's executed; Sonia wanted him under their protection.)

But hey, the headline is, Chihiro and Mondo probably survive Chapter 2! And maybe Mikan can help Mahiru. But everything I said after "optional zag" isn't set in stone, lol.

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kipperlillyforpresident · 13 hours

Text

I received an anon ask which I found to be... well, really interesting. I agree with a lot of the points they make. But I also disagree with the way that they've presented their argument in many aspects.

I considered not responding to it, but it's my policy to answer all asks which are sent in good faith (at the moment, at least). And I could just answer it as-is, but I didn't really want to do that either.

So, instead I'm answering it with this disclaimer. Opinions of anonymous users do not represent the beliefs of Kipperlillyforpresident.tumblr.com, etc etc. With that out of the way, here is the ask:

I want Gorgug to go to Artificer class and try to explain to Henry why his nephew wasn't worth saving, but Aelwyn was. Ragh was. I want Fabian to sit alone at his house because Mazey won't talk to him, and think about how his last words to Ivy just reflected his own thoughts about himself, because he'd never learnt anything about her. Fabian is a vindictive, vain, sex obsessed rich kid with no person in his life who wants to really listen to him. I want Fig to see Henry in the corridors on her way to Paladin class, not meeting his gaze because doing so she would have to explain to him that his nephew wasn't worth the justice her Goddess promises. I want Riz to go to a psychiatrist – not Jawbone – and I want him to talk about the fact that he hates a version of himself so much he couldn't possibly allow her to live, and he in fact relished in the idea that she'd never come back. I want Lucy to come back and hear what The Bad Kids did in her name, and I want her to absolutely tear them a new one. I want her eyes – that they all thought of as sorrowful and deep while never having paid attention to them before her death – to be cold and unwelcome as she looks them up and down and asks them to explain their actions. I want her voice to raise well above the level of what any of them had envisioned of her when they studied her desecrated and fragile body in the woods. I want her to ask them if they knew where Mary Ann lived, or if Reuben had any siblings that would miss him. I want her to hear the podcast episode written about her by a person having a wild guess based on her lifeless form and a handful of anecdotes from her now deceased friends. I probably won't get it, but it's nice to imagine.

So to start off with: I really do like the premise of this. Dealing with the consequences of rage is the part of the story - both in TRG and TBK - that I'm most interested in. And a part of my frustration with the narrative is that I don't think we'll be getting any consequences along this line, and that everything is going to be tied up in a neat bow for a happily ever after.

I do agree/find myself interested in almost all of the scenarios you present. Gorgug and Henry in particular - I think that really needs to come back and haunt the narrative. My personal headcanon is that Henry strongly recommends he take dual credit classes for Artificer at the local community college, because he knows he'll be unable to be fair to him.

And god, Fig and Ankarna! How is she going to justify redeeming the one who caused all of this conquest and rage, yet brutally and cruelly torturing people who were infected by it? It's really compelling. Although for the Riz thing - I don't think he'd willingly go to a psychiatrist at any point, lmao.

And Lucy, holy shit, Lucy, I hate so badly how TBK talk about Lucy. I always talk about her being "dead wife montage", because that really does feel like how she's been treated. Going into battle and murdering all of her friends and claiming its "for Lucy"??? It's really dark. I do NOT want Lucy to like TBK after everything is over.

All that said... I really don't enjoy the way anon has characterized Fabian here. I've been on the record as being deeply uncomfortable with how he treated Ivy. And I want him to face consequences for it. I want him to realize he never learned anything about her, and that the fact she rejected him is almost certainly a part of why he hates her so much. I want him to remember that we "don't talk about women like that"!

But to call him a "vindictive, vain, sex obsessed rich kid"...? It doesn't fully sit right with me. I suppose that it's not entirely wrong, but it's leaving out a lot of aspects of his character. It's painting him exclusively in the most negative light possible.

This ask is treating Fabian - and TBK in general, I suppose - in the exact same way that most of the fandom treats TRG. Exclusively focusing on their worst aspects and ignoring any extenuating circumstances.

And if I'm going to crusade for TRG to be treated with more respect in the narrative, then I suppose my natural inclination is to do the same for TBK. Not that anybody is mandated to do so. You're allowed to engage with media however you'd like, and if fully despising TBK is what brings you the most enjoyment, then go ahead. But it's not my own philosophy.

I appreciate anon for sending this ask, because it did make me think about a lot of stuff! I hope that everybody interacts with this post in a respectful manner, but if discourse happens, it happens ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#asks #fhjy #rat grinders

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s0fter-sin · 5 months

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metalhead ghost who’s been in moshpits since he was a kid and is now a veteran of the scene and the self appointed look out. he keeps an eye out for anyone falling or passing out, kicks the shit out of anyone crowd killing or putting their hands where they shouldn’t

and he’s been keeping an eye on the punk in the kilt since he saw him throw himself headfirst into the wall of death

he looks like the type to start shit - loud and aggressive as anyone else here but a punk doesn't end up at a metal show for no reason - but there's also something niggling at him that he's gonna end up getting himself hurt. and ghost can’t tell if he’s going to do it on purpose

if he does, ghost needs to know. he uses these places as an escape - the music, the violence, the community - always has and he knows all to well how easily an escape can curdle and become destructive. he’s seen too many people lost to the darker parts of the scene, almost lost himself to it; he doesn’t want it to happen to anyone else if he can help it

so when he sees the punk sweating his mohawk off, his movements becoming looser and uncoordinated, he has no issues with yanking him out of the pit and pulling him away from the crowd; pushing him up against the venue wall and ordering him to open his mouth

the glaze that falls over his eyes concerns him even as he obediently lets his mouth fall open. he was right; the punk’s severely dehydrated, tongue and gums far to pale and along with the look in his eyes, he half-thinks he’s about to drop

he reflexively tightens his hold on his jaw to keep him up and the punk shivers, a flush creeping up his neck. an almost confused arousal joins the haze in his eyes and ghost smirks beneath his mask

looks like metal shows aren’t the only thing the punk is new to

#soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghost has a split tongue bc i said so #and soaps mohawk is overgrown and fluffy as hell running down the back of his neck #once ghost forces water down his throat soap comes back online and is his usual self and ghost starts to like him even more #he likes having someone that can go toe to toe with him #i wish i knew more about the scene so i could expand this but i dont know shit about punk or metal culture lmao #i do know itd be mid 20s soap and late 30s early 40s ghost and soaps just self destructing #wanting to be an artist but hes being strangled both by his family who think its a waste when hes so mathematically smart #and by the artistic community who hate his pieces for being too chaotic and non traditional #ghost keeps running into him at shows and he recognises that self destruction all too well #and he sees him declining and knows if he doesnt step in no one will #he was a drug addict after getting caught up in abusive relationship with roba #and it was only his brothers death that pulled him out of his spiral #he doesnt want death to be the end of this spitfire punks story #soaps also got that classic catholic guilt internalised homophobia going for him #hes only ever known the bad parts of the scene he didnt know there was anything different #until ghost introduces him to price and nikolai whove been together longer than hes been alive #and to gaz and farah and alex who make no secret of their love for each other and soap realises just how deprived he is of healthy love #not when his parents barely stand him not when his sister only got married when she fell pregnant and they forced her into the church #with a man she hardly knew just so they could keep their reputation #just ghost showing soap theres more to life than violence and hatred and theres so much love for him to discover #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod #save post

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mewtwo24 · 5 days

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You know reading vol 5 of mdzs before all the rest (don't ask me why I'm a clown and there were Circumstances) has to be the craziest experience of my life. Because it took all of ten minutes of wwx talking to literally hit me so hard in the gut I had to sit down and listen to really loud music for a while to calm down.

Who needs therapy when mxtx is alive and writing, I guess????? 🤡

Can't wait to get to the actual tragic parts I just know I'm gonna be that "help" frog phone meme

#mdzs #i was really out here thinking svsss would be my fave bc of lbh #and then i finally get around to reading mdzs and it blows my expectations out of the fucking water holy actual shit #and i just had this feeling the first time i read parts of it like 'oh. this series is going to kill me. im not coming back from this.'#and here i am booboo the fool getting my clown ass make-up on #idk how to explain it like i just fucking LOVE mxtx's takes on arrogance #that wwx is constantly being perceived as a show off and an incorrigible flirt and a know it all #how wwx cant always help the ways he acts out the desperation that has embedded itself into his very bones #how wwx only ever wanted to do the right thing and that having been so much of his downfall #how his worth and talent would always be eclipsed by virtue of his circumstances #how he's above needing recognition at his core but at the same time longs for an ounce of good will and positive recognition ->#how human he is despite his brilliance. how he never gets it no matter how hard he tries to be worthy.#like to me wwx is emblematic of what it means to be poor/an immigrant in high places #always villified always alien always wrong always unwelcome #no matter how clever or capable or kind youll always be an eyesore because you don't 'act right'. not 'one of them.' you never will be.#i just...the way he just wanted it all to be over by the end. the way he didnt even want to come back to life. that he was sick of it all.#im rattling the bars of my cage i love him I LOVE HIM i love him #i understand you lan wangji (and i love lwj too)#and even lan wangji too like. the way so many of their issues in the beginning stems from that self-same problem #how lwj couldn't live with his out of control feelings how he too couldn't quite lay down his pride #how lwj was also trapped by the expectations of his clan in his own way how so much of their separation was a form of penance #that the calamity of wwx's loss forced him to reconsider everything he thought he knew about himself and his life #how he was left with nothing but regret. how when wwx returns--lwj refuses to leave anything to chance this time #he refuses to let wwx be alone anymore--refuses to let him hurt himself for the sake of others refuses to just let it all happen #even if it means overstepping a boundary or propriety it doesn't matter--as long as wwx stays with him. pride be damned #god i just can't i just can't do it im biting im ripping things apart GOD #will also say the jokes about lwj being like. 'strict moral compass or BUST.' and then wwx literally committing like 17 felonies in the bg #while lwj is like 'crimes? what crimes. nothing to see here.' NEVER stops being funny. like i was pissing myself laughing #i know its a known trope but by god are they hilarious about it #also. lan qiren how many times do your nephews have to go catatonic for you to stop with the catholic guilt and repression

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pavlovers · 2 months

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and what if i cried. what then 😖

#satoru gojo #its not like i wanted him to come back or anything but seeing this shit wrecked my day like wow. we're never getting him again 😭#well the brain one is a little funny to me cuz like. 💀 bro was talking all that shit while his brain was literally hemorrhaging to oblivion #like i dont even think shoko got that one 😭 even before he got sliced he was cooked #which also makes me sad 😭 like after having seen everyone else fight since like. its so clear they were basically sending him to his grave #and i know he probably wanted it that way nd it was their best option but :((#it also makes yuta wanting to step in even more heartbreaking like he just couldnt stand there and watch even tho he agreed to their plan 😭#ohh i miss him :( havent thought about him too much these past few months but this vol 26 content is depressing me 😓

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hauntingblue · 3 months

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Sanji: I don't even like them but I wanna save them

Luffy: that's my boy

#a dog wanting to eat sanjis food like when he went to give food to his mother 😭😭😭#what if i shat nyself and cried.... what if i sobbed #I THOUGHT SANJI WAS GONNA STOP THAT KICK NOOOOOOO LUFFFYYYYYYYY HANGING ONTO THE GROUND NOOOOOO #talking tag #watching one piece #epsiode 823 #sanji imagining luffy smiling and he is going to find him in the worst state of his life since marineford.... sanji...#jesus christ!!! ENOUGH!!!!!!!! LEAVE LUFFY ALONE!!!!!#BROOK GOT THE COPY OF THE PONEGLYPHS????? WHEN?????? HE GOT THE THREE OF THEM BEFORE BIG MOM SHOWED UP?????#OMGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!! BROOOOOOOOOOK OMG #back to luffy suffering...... SANJI COME OOOOOOONNNN RUUUUUUN.... well at least luffy got a punch in #oh no...... omg luffy :(((??? nvm its not him but close WAIT SANJI CANT FIND HIM???#jinbe saved pekoms... so the mafia guy wants to get big moms stuff...#sanjis brothers with the waitresses.....they won't be drunk tomorrow but gettig nami?JAIL #they don't give two shits about reiju to even see where she is so fuck em tomorrow lmao #not like she was going to say anything lmao #reiju should jump out of the window and run like luffy tbh #when sanji says he wants to die tomorrow is not bc of any logical thing but because he feels guilty foe luffy i get it now nvm #sanji looking thru the bodies omg..... his hat of course 😭😭 NOOOOOOOOOO #him trusting luffy to be there SO MUCH!!!!! and he IS THERE #please be there????.......... OH HIS STOMACH GRUMBLING OMG HIS HUNGER GAVE HIM AWAY AJDJAKSJAKSJSKKSJSKS INSANEEEEEEE #did he beat the guy or did they leave him for dead???? jesus has it rained so much ever in one piece or ifs just to set the mood #OMG SANJI CRYING AGAIN NÒOOOOOOOOOO luffy looks like a corpse 😭😭😭😭😭#episode 824 #what is this. no opening no recap just straight up suffering from the start??? ahsjahsk #now the opening after that...... they did something there... oof #luffy smelling the food omg..... he looks like a corpse ENOUGH!!!!!!#sanji berating him and luffy just smiling omg....... eat if you can.... it's the omly thing he can do rn #episode 825 #luffy smiling and the clouds parting and the orquestra version of the opening... sanji saw god right there on the flesh in front of him.....

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aquarri · 1 year

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#anon #there are very few people i truly hate on the earth and louis is not one of them #really my 'hate' for him comes from a place of love and the want for them to do better #because they deserve better! and they can achieve that #yeah recently i've been hating on him and have been 'unsupportive' but thats how i deal with people who are in my eyes being stupid #making poor decisions #its very hard for me to see something and brush it under the rug #(not supporting the doc bc i dont want a doc that isn't truly authentic or made without the public lies)#im not someone whos gonna sit back and laugh when i see something i dont like ya know?#(please dont call me a solo harrie bc i think you missed my hating harry holivia era :D that was a shit show and harry was acting stupid #and i said that and didnt support that either lol)#not that i need to justify anything but i complain about hshq and tour all the time #im not gonna hate on harry bc hes not pissing me off rn? lol #its tough love sorry anon ik my worth and what i deserve to give to people based on what they give back #is that parasocial? idk but i also dont need to blindly follow and act happy when im not?#also i hate the word “stan” im just here observing the drama talking on my little blog about millionaire men that annoy me sometimes #i really do want better for them thats why im here at least thats what brought me here #i do like louis or at least i liked what he stood for in previous years but idk both of them seem to be kind of lost at the moment #this just turned into a ramble but anon im not a solo harrie nor will i ever be #i would like to be called a hater larrie.#why would i be directing hater energy at harry when he just sang woman after louis did ~that~#im not gonna praise him for stunting with a 22 y/o playing daddy and releasing a copy lg doc lmao

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nonsupe-a · 2 years

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if you don’t think that shiloh will give 120% of himself shutting vought down then i have failed to convince you that this boy will stop at literally nothing in this world to make sure that its all gone for good. supes (or most of them) and all. no matter the cost to himself, especially disregarding the cost to himself.

#my last response / talking to syd got me back on this train and i m just #a gentle reminder #that shiloh warren is a fucking asshole but he will give his life for the fucking world #without hesitation. no questions asked.#if it means the end to vought especially #your boys just jumping head first into shit situations that he shouldn't be able to walk away from in a heartbeat #and its not that he doesn't care - cause i mean ... he's not afraid to die but he doesn't Want to if that makes sense.#he will if thats what it calls for. if thats the cost. but he won't Want to.#but mans will sacrifice himself for the greater good and not think twice if thats what it comes down to. and nobody can stop him from that.#but its also like ... he's carried so much of this for so long too that like - he'll give anything to see it through to the end #SO ITS LIKE #choo choo motherfuckers alkgjn

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possum-tooth · 2 years

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happy wednesday i cannot wait until friday ~9p <3

#i get to see him again 🥰🥰🥰🥰#i also took an edible a little bit ago so bear with me as i write my stream of consciousness <3 #anyway hi hello hi for the the llove of god Hello how are u i love you happy wet beast wednesday to those who celebrate. i hate not seeing #him now! whats WRONG with me!!!!!! wheres the cold hearted bitch i usually am.. theyre dead and i killed it >:)#anyway also very extremely dangerous knowledge that i can stay monday nights potentially too.. like girl what the fuck is going on #like i made it back w plenty of time.. pavloving myself methinks #maybe not pavlov idk man im high idk anything. anyway i cant wait for friday bc i get to See Him aagin + we're going to [redacted]#but i havent bought a ticket yet so im a leedle scared but. itll be fine. right. tell me itll be fine #Also in a dilemma. i have a concert coming up and other dude said he wanted to go but hasnt bought a ticket bc he doesnt #know if/when he'll get a job so he doesnt wana buy it then not be able to go but how do i ask in a nonannoying way. hey are u going or not.#i need an answer and soon bc im freaking out bc if i ask my bf if he wants to go and he Can then itll be weird maybe. idk maybe not??#is it just me?? would it be weird to hang w ur bf and another person u met on a dating app??????#apparently not tho i guess bc hes done it like twice w me so. maybe not?? idk and its driving me insane anyway #good god this edible is Hitting. its been like 20 min wtf #and this was cheap shit! like $8 for a 10 pk i think! and its knocking me on my ass tf!!#anyway. happy do you wear wigs wednesday i love you and hope your week is going well <3 if youve made it this far um. congrats ily #talk tag

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barredandromeda · 2 months

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i hate change id rather die

#people arent sticking to their usual selves stop messing w my mind #havent talked to some friends in a while and theyre wildly dif and its making me so irritated can we go back to how we were before #my obsession of waiting by the phone until someone messages me first is coming back in the worst way possible #the coincidences with k stopped and i barely even see him anymore and his clothing style is changing???#hes becoming more normal popular whatever and its so boring please i need a loser boy go back to being that #mb i cant sleep and feelings are coming back but in a weirder way and i have like 2 projects due tmr im not done w and test #i need more friends but in the way of being irl that i can wave at during school and send them videos without talking fr #serenity wake up and come home bro literally ditch school just for me 🙏 believe in u bbg #omg sid is coming back tmr thank god i need my daily walks w him i literally tried w another guy today and it was not the same #bro was yapping ab love whatever idek 😭 told me ab his crushes which good for him ig but i barely know him idc 🙏#insta wants me to stop liking k too cause it deleted all my past stories ab him when i tried to make a highlight #is it so hard to have everyone obsessed with me all the time. cant people just pay attention to me forever #i forgot what i said in this post whatever im deleting it later anyway #post #erics tag #delete later #cringingg that people know stuff ab me and why i am the way i am. maybe they should all die so it becomes a secret again #literally why did i ever talk anything out with anyone other than serenity thats so fucking stupid no shit shes the only good one #thats a lie i love attention i just hate asking for it i cant even be bothered to say more bro im so exhausted but not in a sleeping way yk #kindividual posting

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tonycries · 1 month

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One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will.

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.”

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it.

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement.

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him.

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity.

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place.

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home.

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life.

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle.

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit.

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably.

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.”

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side.

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?”

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted.

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips.

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.”

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again.

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes.

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between.

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock.

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh?

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face.

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him.

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt.

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman.

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin.

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night.

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?”

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you.

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue.

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely.

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument.

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth.

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs.

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner.

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick.

But oh was he pretty - so pretty. Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow.

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins.

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers.

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard.

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock.

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now.

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster.

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him.

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard.

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him.

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-”

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him.

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.”

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders.

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him.

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over.

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.”

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours.

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice.

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all - anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt.

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically.

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly.

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely.

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt.

But no matter.

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him.

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips.

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

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