#But dammit I'll say it again

[thingsmysplattershotjrtoldme]

i wish anyone who uses a charger in turf a very lose.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

MOTH NEEDS TO BE BIG YAWNED.

Like, he's just chilling with you on his chest, burrowed into his fluff before you hear him chitter and yawn.

Inmediately, you have the OBLIGATION to nod and say "Bigggggg yawn." Then pet him and go on with your life.

Maybe stick a finger in his mouth to interrupt the yawn and watch him go like "??????"

i love how we all agree that Foul Legacy is half deadly Abyss monster and half oversized cat

you two cuddle a LOT in the wintertime, especially on days when it's particularly cold, so your weekend afternoons are often spent snuggled against Foul Legacy's chest. that includes today, your head buried into his fluff with his claws around your waist as you both rest on the couch. you're tired, exhausted even, having worked several hours of overtime in the past week, and you want nothing more than to relax for a bit. Legacy rumbles quietly, gently patting your head with his talons and holding you closer to keep you warm. then he opens his mouth and lets out a sleepy yawn, wide enough to show his tongue and all his sharp fangs

without even thinking about it you look up and mumble "Biiiiggggg yawn" and promptly stick a finger into his mouth

Legacy squeaks in surprise, his singular eye wide and gleaming as he looks at you curiously. you stay like that for a few minutes before he carefully closes his mouth around your finger, giving it a few delicate nibbles and then pulling away, tilting his head. you just let out a tired chuckle and Legacy purrs in return, giving your cheek a small lick before settling back down for a nap

a few minutes later you let out a yawn of your own and feel a gentle poke as Legacy taps your tongue with his claw

[reikunrei]

sorry for only writing porn. i don’t feel confident in my storytelling abilities so i hide behind smut and sex because it’s fun and silly and wacky and i don’t have to be serious or worry about being super artistic with it. i promise one day i won’t feel so self-conscious and will just focus on having fun and writing whatever silly stories i want without falling back on arousal to make people interested

[couldbebetterforsure]

Why the fuck you lyin'?

Why you always lyin'?

Hmmmmm Oh my god

Stop fucking lying!

[make-a-little-mischief]

Here's Jerry kissing a puppy, you know, just in case you needed it 💕

[lexpressobean]

gonna start tagging this shit as #lextalkstothevoid. i need to vent some

i apologize in advance

i can’t tell if my friends see me as this “good” person because i’ve never had a serious argument with any of them like i use to have with an old friend who’s no longer a part of my life as of this month. i knew her for over fifteen years.

the people i call friends now don’t know me as intimately as she did, and yet, just within the year we cut ties, i found myself avoiding her just to be with them. we cut ties because i was honest and tried my best to communicate what i was feeling. she decided i had become too cold and she couldn’t understand where i was coming from despite me pouring my heart out. my mistake was trying to keep distance with a tether. we all know it’s best to walk away at some point, and that point for me was quite a while ago, but she was my best friend since i was 13. it. was. hard. but now the thing i thought i didn’t want to happen happened anyway.

the event that set everything in motion was definitely her doing tho. she not only lied to me (as I found out a year later), but she twisted my words around and attacked my character. it was like she was looking for a reason to fight with me, yet when i stood my ground and i pointed out the facts, she tried to take back her instigation and didn’t want to talk about it. but you don’t get that upset for no reason, and i really couldn’t understand why she did in that moment. and when she finally told me her reason, it was such an exaggeration of a reaction, both in my opinion and objectively.

now i’ve just been thinking and thinking, since i don’t have access to a therapist, i have to figure some shit out. because even if we’re never gonna speak again, that’s actually fine by me. and even if it wasn’t, it’d have to be.

and all i really got is that we simply grew up into different types of people...

which is a very generic blanket like statement. she’s called me cold, and heartless, and scary. i know anyone else in my life would disagree.

but i guess, she had some resentment building up that she never talked to me about. because she never talked about how she really felt unless it was a positive thing. maybe she didn’t like when i told her her things honestly, because sometimes honesty hurts or is unpleasant. maybe she thought i was too honest. maybe she didn’t like that i was so safe about my business. maybe she didn’t say it out loud, but to her, i was a complete downer because of these things. maybe she didn’t think i was fun anymore. maybe she didn’t like a lot of things about me, but she never told me these things upfront

she probably didn’t because then why would we still be friends if she didn’t like me? i think about it more still, and i realized i was her only friend. i was the outgoing one and she didn’t make much of an effort to make new friends. i wasn’t cold, i just didn’t indulge her temper tantrums or pity-parties. i wasn’t heartless, we just had different priorities/opinions and i didn’t agree necessarily with everything she did or said. and i needed someone on the outside to tell me this, but i wasn’t scary. when you don’t give anyone a reason to be scared of you, but someone is still sacred of you anyway, the reason is because they’re usually up to something, and if it has to do with you, they’re scared that you’re going to catch on. they’re scared because they’re lying to you, or tricking you, or trying to play you. that’s what someone told me, because here i was, thinking i must’ve had some crazy anger management issues i needed to control, when others told me i managed all my emotions just fine. one went on to point out i wouldn’t have come this far in my career if i couldn’t since i work so intimately with people...

all it took was one person of romantic interest for her to stop giving a fuck about me completely. i used to be her shoulder to cry on, and suddenly nothing but updates about how her life was going so great while she blocked out anything else. and when i needed her to show me she still cared, told her that i felt like she didn’t care about me anymore. her response was that she knew i hadn’t been at my best... and yet she never bothered to check in and really try to help me out, even if it was to just support me... she claimed to not understand me, but now it just seems like she just didn’t want to.

she was no longer someone who was good for me. she doesn’t care about me anymore. but i know she did a long time ago. and if there was something i didn’t take into account, that honest to god slipped my mind, i wouldn’t know. i don’t know what i did to make her feel how she does now. but even if the change of her feelings was my fault, she never communicated with me and just acted so unnecessarily passive-aggressive. maybe she was more afraid of being hated than being honest with her feelings. maybe i just didn’t want to be hated either once i realized we had grown apart. i still cared at the time, even if it hurt.

now it’s hard to care. i feel more angry than anything, but not so much with her than with myself. i doubted myself all this time, thinking i was to blame for it all. but she really was just a liar with no friends left. and now she’s with someone romantically that probably shares her views and her mentality and likes her just the way she is. and that’s great for her.

i don’t wish anyone ill. it takes two to tango, as they say. i just don’t know why she couldn’t be honest from the beginning. all this time wasted trying to salvage something that couldn’t be.

... sometimes it’s not the lack of communication. it’s just a tired situation that can’t be fixed...

[lyriakisser]

it looks pink again.

[twig---verginix]

thinking about season 3 this morning. as a viewer, the introduction of the "Jennifer incident" felt almost cheap, at first– it's so painfully not present in any previous seasons that peels back the layers a little bit, forces you into blinking and saying heyyyyyy. you're making that shit up now. >:/. But I think it can work diegetically, even if it wasn't planned.

It presents it this way: not only has fucking with the timeline forever impacted the present world that these characters reside in and the only other people they'll ever interact with, but it's also impacted their past, their story. Not changed, per say, but more unlocked it. Like taking different actions in a video game and getting more dialogue. And it drives the viewer away from the Umbrellas in the process, widening the gap between where we are and where they are, knowledge-wise, which arguably does a nice job of adding to that off atmosphere that Hotel Oblivion seems to be going for.

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Forspoken has so thoroughly taken over my brain that I'm legit, not even joking, considering getting a tattoo of Cuff. There's just three problems with this idea:

I'm scared of needles

I don't like pain of any sort for any length of time for any reason, and

The idea of being stabbed with a needle dipped in ink a billion times to make my arm as pretty as my sassy asshole best buddy does not negate my fear of needles nor my aversion to pain and/or discomfort

Like, I can barely get a shot without freaking the hell out and/or crying. But I still kind of want to do it? But I really, really don't. So I'm gonna sit on this idea for a couple months and see if Forspoken lets go of my brain enough that I decide I don't want the tattoo after all. But if it's been a few months and I still want it? Well, I know at least one person who will happily hold my whiny baby hand while I get inked up, and she also probably has a good recommendation for an artist here in town XD

[steddiewithachance]

"You Should Date My Nephew"

"433-6296". Wayne mouthes to himself. He visualizes the little slip of lined paper that's taped to the wall above their phone at home. 433-6296. He could call. But he wont.

Wayne grunts as he lowers himself to sit on the curb outside the plant. He got off work --he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch-- 36 minutes ago. It's 3:36 am and god dammit Eddie how many times did he remind the kid to set his alarm. How many times did Wayne remind Eddie that his truck was in the shop and that he'd need a ride home in the morning. And every single time he'd mention it, Eddie responded "I got it old man! I'll set an alarm" with an exasperated eye roll and would go back to whatever he was doing. Wayne has tried calling the trailer a dozen times already and damn that boy for being such a heavy sleeper.

433-6296. Wayne could probably solve his problem with a single call, but that would be completely inconsiderate and borderline inappropriate, so he wont. A gust of cold November wind hits Wayne unforgivingly in the face and makes his eyes water. He pulls a pack of camels from his chest pocket and with stiff, shaky hands, lights one. 433-6296. He could call or he could walk home. The walk wasn't easy in ideal weather when Wayne was fully rested. Right now it was freezing, Wayne didn't have his good jacket, and he just finished an eight hour shift. 433-6296. Fuck it.

Wayne stands up and hurries toward the phone before he can talk himself out of this. It's insane, and he knows the poor kid barely sleeps as it is. Knows from Eddie that he'll pick up the phone anytime Eddie has a nightmare and drive over to talk him out of the bad dream, keep him company, or fall asleep on the floor of Eddie's bedroom so his nephew doesn't have to go back to sleep alone in a haunted home. 433-6296 Wayne dials and waits with baited breath.

The phone rings a handful of times before a quiet voice greets him on the other side of the line.

"H'llo? Eds?"

"Uh hi Steve. It's Wayne?" Wayne says quietly into the phone. Steve seems to sober immediately.

"Mr. Munson? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?"

"Yeah no everythin's fine. I'm sure Eddie's safe and sound at home. Look, I'm real sorry to wake you, kid, and I'm sorry to even be askin' you in the first place. I know it's mighty unfair of me to call at this time but uh- My trucks in the shop and Eddie was supposed to pick me up from work forty minutes ago but I think he mighta slept through his alarm. And it's too far for an old man like me to walk. Was wondering if I might owe you a helluva favor if you could pick me up tonight, son." For a few moments there is silence. Wayne worries he has crossed a line, for a brief moment he fears he might have burnt the most important bridge in Eddie's life. He's immediately regretting waking Steve up for this.

But then he hears the distinct rustling and thump of someone putting on shoes.

"Of course Mr. Munson, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can." And Wayne is once again floored by this kid's kindness.

"Steve, thank you. I owe you son. Whatever you need."

"It's no problem! I'll see you soon."

"See you." Wayne mutters in disbelief and hangs up the phone.

And to think... Wayne used to hate Steve. The thing about Steve Harrington is that his name is haunted, in a way. And the thing about Wayne Munson is that he's a stubborn son of a bitch who will hold grudges on Eddie's behalf longer than the kid himself will. There were countless days in high school when instead of shooting through the front door of the trailer after school with a devilish grin and music blasting from his headphones, Eddie would turn the knob slowly and he'd drag himself into the house, giving Wayne a small nod before disappearing into his room quietly. Wayne felt like crying or punching something when Eddie came home in low spirits. He knew how evil the kids at school could be, and he knew the names of all the bad ones. Wayne always gave Eddie 10 minutes of quiet before he'd knock on his door and gently ask if he wanted to talk. It was a routine they had. He'd ask and Eddie would say no. But then like clockwork, Eddie would open up about his day later in the evening usually while they ate dinner and before Wayne left for work. He'd complain about all the kids that made him feel bad: Hagan, Harrington, Perkins, Hargrove, Carver, and so many more.

So imagine Wayne's surprise on March 27, 1986 when he briefly left Eddie's hospital room to get coffee and returned to Steve Harrington, the bully son of Richard and Nicole, sitting next to his nephew's hospital bed. It had been a long week of worrying on Wayne's part, and an emotional 48 hours spent at Eddie's bedside, so Wayne had very little patience for whatever was happening in front of him. In retrospect, Steve Harrington was looking at Eddie... sweet and tenderly, even back then. But in the moment all he could think about was Eddie returning from school with hunched shoulders and his head hung low.

"The hell are you doing here?" Wayne asked using his gruffest and most intimidating voice, arms crossed, standing in the doorway. The way that Steve startled was like nothing like Wayne had ever seen. He jumped a foot into the air and folded into himself.

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I'm sorry I didn't know you were around. Just, uh, didn't want him to be alone in case he woke up." Steve had said rising from his seat. When Wayne didn't budge from the doorway or respond, Steve nervously fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.

"How do you know Eddie?" Wayne asked trying to keep his firm tone.

"From high school sir. But also through a mutual friend. Dustin Henderson? They play DND together. Dustin and I brought him in after we found him like this..." Steve lifted his head again gauging Wayne's still stern expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to interrupt anything I'll get out of your hair."

And Wayne wanted to be skeptical of Steve, wanted to accuse him of doing this to Eddie, but the truth is that Steve sounded painfully earnest. And there's no human explanation for the tiny bite marks all over Eddie's body. Wayne stepped out of the doorway and let Steve take a few steps down the hallway before calling out to him.

"Hey, Harrington?" Steve turned around quickly, looking back with a startled expression, maybe surprised that Wayne knew his name at all. "D'ja see what happened? I mean d'ya know anythin about what hurt him?" Wayne asked more softly. Steve looked around the crowded hallway, with nurses buzzing from door to door. Steve shook his head slightly, apologized, and continued down the hallway.

But Steve didn't stay out of his hair for long. The kid was exasperatingly persistent in being around for Eddie. And while Wayne kept a watchful eye on him, he was starting to get the idea that Steve Harrington was not who Wayne thought he was. He cooked for, cleaned after, and tended to Eddie, asking for nothing in return. Often refusing to stay for dinner when Wayne was home, even if he was the one who cooked it, because he didn't want to interrupt family time. If he brought food from out he always brought something for Wayne, and never took the money Wayne tried to push into his hands for it.

"Here, Mr. Munson. I wasn't sure what you wanted from the diner, but Eddie said you're not picky so I brought you a burger and fries." Steve had said that first time, holding out a bag in front of him.

"You brought me food?" Wayne asked perplexed.

"Well yeah, of course. I wouldn't have shown up with dinner for just me and Eddie." Steve set Wayne's bag on the counter when he made no move to take it.

By now Steve knew Wayne and Eddie's order at pretty much every food place in Hawkins and Wayne and Eddie were getting real creative at finding ways to slip money into Steve's wallet.

On top of that, almost every other day, Wayne gets home from work to find a maroon bmw parked outside his place while Steve helps Eddie through bad dreams. So what could Wayne be, besides grateful, for Steve Harrington's slightly confusing devotion to his kid?

He's snapped out of his thoughts when said maroon bmw pulls up in front of him. Steve is wearing a pair of wired glasses and his hair is all ruffled from sleep. Wayne opens the passenger door.

"You were waiting for forty minutes in the cold? Why didn't you call sooner?" Steve asked pushing up his glasses as Wayne closes the door quickly. And well... Wayne doesn't know how to respond to that.

"I- I shouldn'ta had to call you in the first place, Steve. I'm real sorry" Wayne says as Steve pulls the car out of park and starts driving back towards the trailer park. Wayne glances over at Steve waiting for the kid to say something. They sit in heavy silence until Steve breaks it by clearing his throat.

"Just... I know you're probably mad at Eddie but- but don't yell at him. He's barely sleeping so he really just needs the rest. It's not his fault." Steve ends on a whisper.

A tidal wave of different emotions rip through Wayne. Affection for Steve's caring nature, immense gratitude that Eddie has someone like Steve in his life, disbelief that Steve would say something like that after being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. Wayne was sitting and staring at the most selfless kid he'd ever met. Steve fucking Harrington.

"You should date my nephew."

Steves eyes widen and the car swerves.

"Uh- s-sorry- what?" Steve stammers.

"If I could choose someone for him, the best option out there, I'd choose you." Wayne says honestly, and he didn't even know he'd been thinking it until this moment. But it's so true. After so many heartbreaks over truly terrible men that Wayne could never see the appeal of, Eddie deserves someone like Steve. Steve face softens before checking to make sure Wayne was being sincere. Steve cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.

"What, you think I'm jokin'?" Wayne asks defensively.

"No sir! Not at all. It's just Eddie and I have been dating for months already. BUT- but- thank you for saying that! It means so much to me and truly Eddie's the best thing-"

"You- what?" Suddenly Wayne is embarrassed. Blushing. How'd he... how'd he miss that? And well, he did have a few moments where he thought the two of them were awfully close for a pair of young men, at least one of which who was openly queer, but they'd been through a lot together.

"Why did no one tell me?" Wayne asks turning his face away from Steve who is desperately fighting a huge grin and losing.

"We thought you knew. We sleep in the same bed every night."

"You do what now? Thought you were sleepin' on the floor" Wayne knows he sounds like the protective dad of a teenage girl and not the uncle to an adult man, but his world was just turned sideways. Steve laughs at that and adjusts his glasses before stopping at the red traffic light which almost immediately turns green because no one is out at this hour.

"Oh well. Good, I'm glad then." Wayne says after his mind has stopped spinning. "And call me Wayne already, you basically live at my house." He punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.

"Okay." Steve agrees quietly. He pulls into Forest Hills and stops the car in front of the Munson's place. "Mind if I just check to make sure he's okay before I leave? For peace of mind?" Wayne opens the door and steps out.

"Oh so now you're playing coy about sharing a bed? Just sleep here, kid" Wayne closes the door and heads towards the house. Steve jogs a little to catch up. When they open the door, the sound of an obnoxious alarm comes pouring out from the back of the house which concerns both of them. But when Steve hurries to Eddie's room he sees that the idiot had fallen asleep with music blasting in his headphones. Wayne stops the alarm as Steve gently tries to remove the headphones from his ears pausing the tape inside.

Eddie suddenly stirs and blinks up at Wayne and Steve looking down at him.

"'S going on?" He croaks, rubbing his eyes. Wayne and Steve share a look before Wayne chuckles and pats Steve on the back once before thanking him and wishing him a good night on the way out. After the door closes behind Wayne, Eddie looks back up at Steve. "What's going on baby? What happened?"

Steve slips into the bed and scoffs, fondly. He curls around Eddie and pulls him into his chest. Once they've settled, Steve pushes his fingers through Eddie's until they're all intertwined.

"Did you forget something, Bambi? Was there someone you had to pick up from work at 3 in the morning?" Steve whispers into his neck. Suddenly Eddie shoots up and dislodges Steve where he was leaning against him. Steve groans.

"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit"

"Eddie it's okay c'mere. He's home now, it's all good babe." But Eddie just stares at the wall and pulls a hand through his hair. "No one is mad, just come back here. Let's sleep." And Eddie hesitantly lies back down.

"Did Uncle Wayne have to call you? I'm so fucking sorry Stevie." Eddie asks, sounding embarrassed.

"We had a nice conversation on the way home so it all worked out. You're okay. Sleeeeep."

And right before they both fall asleep, Eddie whispers, "Thanks Stevie, love you."

[harrysfolklore]

jacob elordi and yn make valentine's dinner | vogue

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi Vogue, It's Jacob," he greeted the camera, he was wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans but looked absolutely dreamy, "And today I'm cooking a special Valentine's dinner for my girlfriend YN."

You smiled at him from the side of your kitchen, ready for him to introduce you.

"She's actually here to help me," that was your cue to walk into the frame, he pulled you by the waist and you grabbed the side of his face gently and pecked his lips, "She cannot cook to save her life," he spoke to the camera again, "So my role in the relationship is basically to be her personal chef."

"Okay, cut the sass," you chimed in, "Let's do it, what are we making today?"

"We're making a heart shaped pizza, since It's Valentine's day, then we're making espresso martinis, and a chocolate lava cake to top it off."

"Sounds delicious," you said, "Perks of having Jacob Elordi as your boyfriend, he grabs the stuff from the top shelves for you and he cooks a full course meal."

Jacob winked at you and then to the camera, then the crew stepped in to give you everything you needed for your dish.

"Right so we're gonna start off by making the pizza dough," Jacob began, "We need flour, oil, water, sugar, salt and instant yeast."

"And of course, a good looking sous chef," you teased, batting your eyelashes at the camera.

"That you are," Jacob pecked your cheek, "Now, sous chef, we need two cups,"

"Of this?" you pointed to the flour bowl.

"Yes," he put the ingredient on the mixer, "Two teaspoons of sugar,"

"I'll do that one," you grabbed the small bowl that contained what you thought was the sugar, and Jacob abruptly stopped you.

"No, love, that's the salt."

"Well dammit," you quickly put the bowl down, "Can we cut that part?" you told the crew and they laughed, Jacob just pinched your side affectionately.

"Let me add the ingredients into the mixer and you can help me pour the water, okay?"

Jacob put everything that was needed on the mixer and you slowly poured the water as the machine started working.

"So this is starting to come together now," Jacob spoke to the camera, "Just need it to turn up the heat a little bit," he said playfully and winked at the camera.

"You did not just say that."

"I did just say that," he winked at you now, "Now help me put the oil on."

You did as he said, pouring the oil on the mixture and then covering it with plastic foil.

"We need to put it in the fridge for two hours so it can rise,"

"I feel like Martha Stewart," you put a hand on your hip, "This is like, my dream."

The video showed a time lapse indicating that two hours had passed and it was time to get the dough out of the fridge.

"So Jacob is getting the dough out of the fridge," you explained to the camera, "And we're going to make two separate pizzas to see which one turns out the best."

"Are we actually gonna cut the heart?" Jacob approached you with the bowl, "But it looks so pretty, love."

"Sorry, I'm going to break your heart today on Valentine's day."

"Jesus," Jacob's eyes widened, "So this has been chilling for two hours, and now we have to make it look like a heart.

"Okay, move aside," you moved Jacob's hand away from the dough and he laughed, "This would be easier with a rolling pin but okay."

"So to do the heart shape we need scissors," he sad after carefully folding the dough in half, "Try it, love."

"Like you do with a card, right?" Jacob gave you a confused look, "A Valentine's day card."

"Just don't cut the whole pizza in half," you rolled your eyes at him, "I'm not judging your cooking abilities, love. Just guiding you through the process."

"Just go get the ceramic pizza stone and let's get this in the oven."

"We need to put on the ingredients first, don't we?" Jacob raised his eyebrows

"Oh you're right," you grabbed a bowl with tomato sauce, "So I'm going to cover the whole thing, just leaving space for the crust," you poured the sauce with a spoon, "Am I overdoing this?" you asked your boyfriend.

"No, you like it, like a lot of tomato, don't you?", you nodded, "Just spread it out a little bit," you did as he said, "It's perfect babe, well done."

"We're diving this," you signaled with your hands, "This is your territory and this is mine.

"Okay but let's not cut it, because then that's like cutting the heart and that's sad."

The crew asked you to describe a romantic moment as you decorated your pizza, and Jacob was the first one to speak.

"She is really romantic," he said as he peeled an onion, "The other day when we got back from New York she planted this cute, like herb garden outside on our patio and we had a picnic there, it was lovely."

"One of the most romantic things Jacob has ever done for me was when he surprised me with a spontaneous road trip to a secluded cabin in the mountains," you added, sprinkling shredded mozzarella cheese on your side of the pizza. "He had everything planned out, a cozy fireplace, a bottle of wine, and a clear view of the starlit sky. It was incredibly romantic."

"Yeah, that was a special trip," Jacob smiled at you, his eyes soft at the memory, as he arranged slices of pepperoni on his half of the pizza, "She was freezing so we cuddled a lot, that was nice."

You finished up your pizza and Jacob carefully placed it on the heated oven, then the crew got everything ready to star with your dessert.

"Alright, so we're making the chocolate lava cake," Jacob clasped his hands together, "Do you think you can do it, babe?

"Let's do it!"

You and Jacob followed the recipe for the cake, you helped him pour the eggs and mix the ingredients together, earning compliments from him about your cooking skills improving.

"So now, these," Jacob grabbed the tray with the two small chocolate cakes, "Which YN just poured very perfectly, are going in the oven for about 12 minutes at 450.

You closed the oven and the final thing to prepare for your menu was your drinks, the espresso martini.

"So we're going to make the espresso martini, the virgin espresso martini," Jacob said to the camera, "Because this one is on a non alcohol diet."

"You gotta keep the system healthy!"

Jacob poured all the ingredients into the drink mixer and moved it up and down, his biceps twitching at the movement.

"I'm impressed," you said as he poured down the drink in your glasses, "That was sexy, baby."

"Thanks, glad to know," Jacob winked at you, "Cheers," he handed your glass, you clicked it with his and sipped at the drink, "This is pretty good, let's take it to the table."

You moved to the table, where you pizza and cakes were perfectly placed along with some lit up candles and flowers for decoration.

"This looks amazing," you said as you looked at the food in front of you.

"Looks nice, doesn't it?" Jacob took the seat in front of you, "My side of the pizza looks nicer."

"No," you said with a serious tome but then your eyes softened, "Happy Valentine's day, baby."

"Happy Valentine's day," he smiled fondly at you, "You happy? You like this?"

"Yeah, I love it," you squeezed your hand quickly, "Can we start eating?"

You ate your dinner, bantering about which side of the pizza was better and which one of you had been the better chef, even though there were cameras and crew around, it felt like an intimate moment between the two of you.

"Here, try the dessert," Jacob said once you were done with your pizza, spoon feeding you a bite, "It's good, isn't it?"

"So good, I'm such a chocolate lover," you said, "I feel like I was great help to you in the kitchen, what do you say?"

"Really good help," he took a spoonful of the cake, "Best looking osus chef ever."

"Thank you, I really appreciate that," you squeezed his hand again, "I really tried for you today."

"Yeah, cause usually I make her a drink and she just watches me cook," he told the camera, "She's obsessed with me, can't take her eyes off."

"Cheers babe, I love you," you ignored his comment and raised your drink, "happy Valentine's day,

"Happy Valentine's day,"

"I'm going for it," you said as you rose from your seat, "Why do I always am eager to be the kisser?"

"She just wants to kiss me so bad," he stood from his seat and placed a kiss to your lips, "Love you."

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Petting Their Hair

Lucifer

"I am only going to say this once: stop."

You get one warning. One. If you do not cease and desist, he is throwing you out of his study, so help him Diavolo's Dad. No, he does not like it. No, not even a little bit. You really aren't going to stop? You're just a glutton for punishment, aren't you?

....You're very lucky he's too busy to hurl you bodily from this room. He'll just endure it for now.

Mammon

"Hah?! What's the big idea?! This is the revered hair of THE Great Mammon, I'll have you know. So that'll be 100 Grimm a touch, thanks! ....Hey, no, wait, why'd you stop?"

Once he's done turning bright red and clearing his throat, he'll try to capitalize on this whim of yours by offering you a discount on hair touches. A very poorly-planned scheme, because you're not going to pay to do something he'll start begging you to keep up as soon as you stop.

Oh, so Mammon is willing to let you touch his high-value hair for free? You're so honored. What a good boy you are, Mammon. (You can expect a bit more sputtering and some denials that he is anything like a good boy, but bro's into it big time. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.)

Leviathan

*shrieks in confused, touch-starved otaku*

Wait, no, he didn't say to stop! What's with these mixed signals? Petting his hair then stopping just because he shrieks a little bit? Did you want to touch his hair or not? Is it greasy? Oh god, when did he last bathe? ...It was only the other day. You have no reason to be disgusted. You're just a bigoted normie who assumes all otaku are crusty and gross!

Ahhhh?!?!?!?! Again?! Fine! Just don't change your mind again, because that's super confusing! And yeah, obviously he's blushing, you're petting his head and it feels nice and kind of tickles! ....Mm.... You know, once he's settled into it, it's really relaxing, actually...

Fast forward an hour or two and he's probably conked out with his head in your lap, drunk on affection and mostly asleep.

Satan

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

It feels weird. Why are you doing that? Wait, you're petting him? Like he's....a cat? Hmm. Interesting. He'll allow it. But you should do it properly. None of this mussing his hair around with wild abandon. You have to be gentle and use small movements. Maybe use your knuckles? Gently though. There, that's it.

So this is what it feels like. Admittedly, he probably wouldn't take kindly to this if anybody else was doing it, no matter how well they imitated proper cat-petting technique. But you're a special exception, so in the future, if you feel the need to do this, just let him know. And for the love of all things unholy, don't breathe a word about this to his brothers.

Asmodeus

"Oh, you like my hair? Isn't it soft? I'll show you the conditioner I use."

Asmo loves having his hair played with! Or brushed, or combed, or tugged (just not too hard, please!) His hair is silky smooth thanks to a mixture of his natural good looks and his shampoo/conditioner combination. He'll let you borrow them if you're interested. Your hair will look amazing! And it'll feel even better!

This is cozy. He'll just settle in and let you do this as long as you want. Careful you don't get too handsy; he knows how irresistible he is.

...Well, maybe if you're a little handsy he'll let it slide, but just because it's you.

Beelzebub

"Are you....petting me?"

Kind of weird, but it feels nice, so he isn't complaining. It's a little bit embarrassing, just because it makes him feel a little bit like a puppy, but then again, who doesn't like puppies? He'll be able to continue to go about his day not minding you petting his hair now and again. The only awkward part is how damn tall he is. You might need to keep a step stool handy.

Belphegor

"Nnngh, knock it off...! ... ... ...I changed my mind, do it again."

His initial reaction to being woken up to you stroking his head is annoyance, because dammit, he was sleeping. But once he shakes the cobwebs out of his brain, he'll realize that it actually felt really good and he could absolutely fall asleep under these circumstances.

He'll wait a little while, hoping you'll give it another try of your own accord, but if you don't, he'll eventually cave and grumpily ask you to do it again.

Diavolo

"Hahaha... That's enough, now."

He isn't actually a fan. Maybe it's the fact that he's a prince and has been acting as an autocrat more or less for centuries, but being stroked like an adored pet feels really degrading. Of course, he won't hold it against you, but seriously, stop.

Barbatos

"Are you finished playing around quite yet?"

Another one who isn't into this at all. He's more than happy to spend his free time petting you, if that's what you're interested in, but he is a petter, not a pettee. Read into this what you will.

Solomon

"You're so forward!"

Solomon likes it very much. Too much, possibly. Are you flirting with him? There's something incredibly intimate about touching someone's hair, don't you think? No, please, continue.

Simeon

"Um, what are you doing? ...As long as you're enjoying yourself, I guess!"

Simeon is more bewildered by this than most. Like, are you trying to scratch an itch for him? Is this one of those "viral memes" he's heard so much about? Well, it feels nice, and it isn't as if it's hurting anybody. He'll indulge you for now.

A little to your left, please. Ahhhh, that's the spot...

Luke

"Hehe, that tickles... Hey! Is this a Chihuahua joke?!"

It feels kind of nice, but as soon as he takes a second to think about it, he realizes that you're treating him at best like a little kid, and at worst, like a dog, and he isn't having any of that. He'll scold you for treating a Celestial being so casually, remind you that he's actually a lot older than you, technically, so who's the real baby, and secretly pine for more pets for the rest of his life.

[sailortongue]

Scandal

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: with the news of kenji's impending fatherhood -despite being unmarried- now public information, his PR team must come up with a way to salvage his reputation

wc: 1.5k

an: this is part 3!

navi | prev | series mlist

-------------

“Giants Player Kenji Sato Seen with Mystery Woman” was the headline that greeted you one fateful morning. You skimmed the article as quickly as you could, wincing when you saw that there were even pictures included to back up the story that Kenji was officially off the market. And not just taken, oh no—but a father-to-be. 

You immediately called Kenji, your heart pounding with the realization that your face had been shared with the public. He picked up the phone, his voice still groggy with sleep as he answered.

“Someone wrote an article about us,” you blurted out, not bothering with pleasantries. “There's pictures of us leaving the clinic, and it says an anonymous source came forward with information that we’re expecting a child. How did they find out so quickly? Did you tell anyone?”

Kenji blinked slowly on the other side of the phone, taking in the rush of information you had spewed at him first thing in the morning. “Uh, no. Haven’t even told my dad yet. You?”

You were about to deny having told anyone, but then you remembered. Ami. But she wouldn’t do that to you, right? “Ami knows.”

Kenji sucked in a breath through his teeth, grimacing. “Do you think she’d . . .” he trailed off, not wanting to make any outright accusations. He knew Ami personally, and that she was a good friend, but he also knew that scandals meant more money for reporters and that Ami has her own child to take care of. 

“I don't want to believe she would,” you started. “But I'm not sure how anyone else could have possibly found out so quickly.”

Kenji hummed. “You should talk to her today. Or I can, if you’d prefer?”

You sighed. “I'll do it. It’s just not going to be an easy conversation.”

“Call me with an update later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You ended your call with Kenji and wasted no time dialing Ami’s number, your stomach twisting itself into knots as you listened to the ringing. No answer. You tried again. And again.

 “Are you ok?” was the first thing she asked when she picked up. “It's not like you to call so many times.”

“Did you tell anyone about Kenji and me?”

She fumbled over her words for a moment, not expecting to be interrogated as soon as she answered your call. “Of course not. Has something happened?” she asked worriedly. You must have had a very good reason to sound so frantic. 

“There's an article,” you explained simply. “About Kenji and I. Are you sure you didn’t say something to anyone else? Even the smallest detail that might have been figured out?”

“Yn, I swear to you that I would never. I don't know how it got revealed so quickly, but I promise it wasn’t me.”

You sighed for the umpteenth time. “If not you then who?” You asked despondently, not truly expecting an answer from her but lamenting your misfortune all the same. 

“I don't know,” she answered softly, her voice laced with concern. 

Meanwhile, not even twenty minutes after you had called him, Kenji received yet another phone call. This time, it was his PR manager, Muramatsu. He groaned, knowing he was in for an earful. He answered the phone with all the false bravado he could muster, pretending he was none the wiser to the current state of his reputation. 

“Is it true‽” His manager demanded.

“Is what true?” Kenji asked, deciding to play stupid. 

“Did you or did you not get a girl pregnant?” 

“Straight to the point as always, Muramatsu,” Kenji chuckled, throwing off his covers when he decided to finally get out of bed since it seemed he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep this morning. 

“I'm serious, Ken. We need to get in front of this ASAP. Your reputation is on the line which means so are your brand deals.”

Kenji paled. He hadn’t thought of that little consequence. “Look, it was an accident, ok.”

“Dammit, Ken! What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?”

“I was drunk! I didn't intend to do it, it just happened!”

Muramatsu was pinching the bridge of his nose in his office, wishing at this moment that he’d been hired by any other celebrity other than Ken Sato. “Is she a girlfriend we didn’t know about? Because we can work with that.”

Kenji remained silent, biting his lip while trying to think of a way to gently break the news that on top of accidentally knocking up a girl because he was drunk, she was also a woman he had never met prior to taking her home. “Picked her up at a bar,” Kenji mumbled. 

“What? Can you repeat that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“She was a random girl from the bar and I thought she was pretty and now she’s going to be the mother of my firstborn!” Kenji all but shouted into the phone, his stress levels rising rapidly as he paced the wooden floor of his bedroom. From the other side of the call he could hear something slam into Muramatsu’s desk, presumably his fist. 

“Give me the full story. Your team won the championship, you celebrated with drinks, you met this girl at the bar and took her home, yada yada. I know the first half now tell me the second.”

“Well, I got a call from a friend of mine. Turns out she’s a mutual friend of Yn—“

“Yn?”

“My . . . baby momma?” He clarified tentatively,hesitant to use the term. It was accurate, but friend wasn’t enough and girlfriend was too much. For now, anyway. 

His manager hummed, signaling for him to continue. “So Ami told me we need to meet immediately and I went to the cafe I suggested but it wasn’t Ami that met me it was Yn and that’s when I found out,” he said in a rush of words, not taking a single breath. 

His manager sat at his desk, stunned. “And the pictures?” He dared to ask. 

“We talked, and I told her I would be there every step of the way. Every appointment, every craving, every mood swing. All of it. I want to take responsibility and be a good dad to this baby.”

“Would she be open to pretending to be in a relationship?”

“Might not need to pretend at all. We have a date planned.”

“Good good,” his manager said. “And what if we took it a step further? If we present the two of you as a married couple, then it turns a scandal into regular celebrity gossip and your reputation—and your girl’s—is spared the judgment of having a child out of wedlock. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

Kenji positively preened at hearing you referred to as his girl. He was so taken with the thought that he agreed to Muramatsu’s proposition without even bothering to ask what you thought of it. But it wasn’t like you had a boyfriend that would object, right?

“Great!” His manager said. “I'll talk with the team and we’ll have this sorted out by nightfall. Now, let’s backtrack. You said it was Ami that called you to meet. Ami Wakita? That reporter who interviewed you?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“So let me get this straight. You knock up a girl and one of the very first people to know is a reporter, and now suddenly there’s gossip rags talking about your promiscuity?”

“We’ll talk to Ami. She’s a friend to us both and I just can’t believe she’d actually cross both of us just for a story.”

“You’re gonna give me grey hair, kid,” his manager groaned. “We'll give her the benefit of the doubt for now, but find out if she’s the leak. We’ll talk later.”

It wasn’t until he heard the click of the call ending that it sunk in what he’d agreed to. He’d made a decision all on his own without consulting you that would deeply impact your life even more than it already had been. He sat on the edge of his bed and sunk his head into his hands, groaning at him having dug himself in an even deeper hole. In the last 48 hours, you two have gone from a hookup to eventual co-parents to make-believe spouses. How was he supposed to explain this to you?

The buzzing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. He checked the screen to see a message from you and swiftly unlocked his phone. 

yn: are you free later? ami wants the three of us to talk

yea, where at?

yn: her place for lunch? around noon?

sounds good. just got off the phone with my

PR manager. he’s working on damage

control but it will require some acting on

our part 

yn: ???

i’ll explain when i see you later

see you soon :)

-----------

next

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@nuhteyam

[writteninkat]

lol imagine going on a fair date with katsuki. one moment you're debating which flavor of ice cream you want, the next you're hearing your boyfriend and his foul mouth.

"say it again, you little bitch! i'll blow your head off-"

"katsuki!" you yell, glaring at the blond who had just raised his palm.

he looks at you dumbly before lowering his hand, glaring at whoever he was yelling at.

"tch. you better be greatful my girlfriend's here or i'll-"

"bakugou katsuki!" you yell once more.

"dammit, woman! i'm coming!" he yells back, stomping over to you.

you huff at him, annoyed, before handing him his chocolate ice cream. his frown disappears almost completely.

"please don't bite into it again like a complete sociopath." you beg, face scrunching slightly as he holds onto the cone.

to prove a point— more like to piss you off, he does take a bite out of his ice cream. not long after, he's squatting down with his head hung low as he silently nurses a brainfreeze.

[gorejo]

▸ I'LL MEET YOU FOREVER IN THIS MEMORY. - GOJO SATORU. forbes30!gojo

synopsis: he'll argue it's fate — a divine moment — that he's always in your proximity, and you call it bullshit. he says his class was in the same building, panting with a sweat pebbling on his forehead, yet you've seen him run across campus just couple minutes prior as he awkwardly stood in front of you. he's a man on a mission, determined to succeed. to have you finally fall for him.

content: wc: 6.6 k (sigh), fluff, light cursing, uses of she/her to align with the original au but the fic can be read without it. reader lovingly calls him stupid for one part and is shorter than him because the man is canonically tall af. petnames (babe, sweetheart, angel). slight nsfw towards the end, Gojo calls himself daddy in one scene just for jokes. college forbes30!gojo !!

There was nothing but the sound of chalk hitting the board, the frustrated sighs of students trying to keep up, and the monotonous tone of Takashi sensei talking that filled the lecture hall. 

Students hastily typed on their electronics, while others chose to go old-fashioned with simple pen and paper. 

But for Gojo Satoru, none of that mattered, really.  

11:47.

Impatiently shaking his legs, his body just barely fitting in the cramped seat, uncaring if the attendant in front of him sent multiple glares for his crude manner of bumping his knees against the back — why the hell were these spaces always so damn cramped? 

Satoru released another long sigh as he clicked open his phone to check the time, again.

Infuriatingly, it was still fucking 11:47.

It'll take me about six minutes to get to the quad, and another five to make it to the east building...

“Dammit,” Satoru cursed, his supposed whisper radiating a bit too loudly throughout the silent hall as he slumped further into his seat groaning as his impatience imbued his mind with thoughts. 

One more minute and it’ll be just enough time to make it over —

"Satoru-kun,” releasing an annoyed sigh, “would you mind sharing with the class what could’ve gotten you so possibly worked up today?” his professor questioned without even turning his back to look at who just so rudely interrupted his class — again. 

What excuse should I make today? Maybe I can leave now and act as if —

“Satoru-kun?” The professor's voice laced with irritation as he put the chalk down, the click of the powder hitting the rail echoed throughout the auditorium — no one dared to speak a word — not especially when the semester was so close to ending. 

“Can you answer this question because you seem to be awfully more interested in something else rather than studying for your exam tomorrow?”

maybe I can ask her to study for finals? Oh, that’s good… I can show how studious and dependable I am, and then maybe she’ll fall for me. Goddamn call me a genius! But wait — fuck, I can’t use that because — 

“Satoru, uh… sensei's coming,” Gojo felt a nudge on his side, his colleague nervously squirming in his seat, whispering to get his attention but yet it went unacknowledged — far over Satoru’s head — surely, the man currently had other priorities than to be rotting in business calculus. 

Business calculus… the bane of his existence, his utter torture of attending every session, a complete fifty minutes wasted three times a week just for him to sit there and ponder about something else — most of the time, it was him getting antsy to get to you.

It was much to everyone’s surprise that he even went to all his lectures — the one student no one ever expects to have perfect attendance for a class he gives two shits about — well, he does give a shit because it’s all for his plan. 

…. 

“So tell me why you’re trying to take this class?” His best friend glanced over Satoru’s shoulder. 

“Don’t bother me, I can’t multi-task,” Gojo murmured, ignoring his raven hair friend as he lightly bit his lips, furiously typing up his course number into the system, his back hunched as he anxiously stared at his loading computer screen, “never thought getting a class would be so stressful," Satoru groaned.

“Why are you so stressed, it’s unlike you,” Geto’s voice was serene, “and what other dumb shit are you up to?” he chuckled while taking a sip of his coffee. 

“It’s not dumb,” Satoru shot back.

“You tested out of calculus, Satoru.”

“So what?” he grumbled — just a couple seconds more…

Geto didn’t quite understand why Gojo had to go to such lengths, completely acting out of his character as he pitifully waited for his screen to load.

He’d never seen his friend so riled up about something so simple. The last time Satoru got like this was a couple of years back when a small pastry shop he searched online closed an hour before they got there. His defeat and whines were understandable since the trip took three hours by train.

But this… yea, Suguru couldn’t quite put a finger on it… well not until a very minor dialogue he had with a certain someone, such small talk that even he forgot that it occurred a semester prior.

“Are you by chance doing this because —”

Cutting him off, “fuck…” was all Suguru heard as his best friend rested his forehead on his arm, body slumping from the adrenal fatigue.

In bold, a message read: 

Congrats! You have successfully registered for all your classes

Perhaps, it wouldn't hurt to learn a bit more about limits and infinities, Satoru thought before taking a nap in the library.

….

Or I can ask if she can help me study. because she’s good at that, right? she’s always at the library, always ignoring my texts because of her goddamn exams…

Gojo pondered, crossing his arms with his index and thumb rubbing against his chin, his cheeks squeezed while furrowing his brows. 

but fuck, that means I won’t be able to talk to her because last time — I mean, it’s been a month since then, maybe it’ll be different now, I figure we got closer. she's smiling a bit more and we’ve gone on a couple of dates… I suppose — 

… 

“Psst,” Gojo harshly whispered from across the table, “psst!” 

Glaring at him over your laptop, eyes sparkling and round, face needy for attention, “what do you want?” You spat out.

“Just wondering,” Gojo chirped, his ears perked in your direction with his elbows resting on the table, body leaning towards your direction, “Have you fallen for me yet?”

“No, you’re not my type.” you retorted emotionless.

“What’s your type then?” Gojo countered, unfazed, smiling as he challenged your words. 

“Someone, not Gojo Satoru.”

“Well, aren’t you spicy?” He stretched out his legs while leaning back on his chair, boyishly smiling with his arms thrown behind his neck, the lean physique of his body outlined in this position — he looked hot, no doubt about that, and… he knew that. 

“but i’m just going to tell you now,” cocking his head to the side, licking his soft lips that shined a pretty pink, confidently proclaiming, 

“there will come a day when your words will bite you in the ass.”

“Did your parents ever teach you about having some class  —“ 

“Can you guys lower it down, or move someplace else?” a student hushed, stating through gritted teeth as he witnessed the tortuous and unforgivable sight of you both, love, bantering in the library of all places. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, apologetically smiling at them before facing forward to meet your stalker — you swore he was stalking you because there was no way he and you could have this many “random” encounters, that would work out so perfectly with him just magically appearing wherever you go — it's bullshit you thought, especially when his acting skills weren’t necessarily that great… 

“Hey babe,” Gojo cheekily whispered,

“I’m not your babe,” you hissed back.

“Ooo, so you like the sweet pet names huh? Noted,” he nodded, the curve of his lips turned upward, humming a tune while he typed something on his phone.  

you couldn’t tell what annoyed you more, his devilishly handsome smile, or the fact that your heart was beating in unrhythmic patterns the more you talked with him.

A facade maybe, but you’ve come to undeniably enjoy his rambunctious company despite him getting on your nerves. 

“Then, sweetheart, do you wanna —“ 

“No.” you numbly stated while typing away at your report.

“But I didn’t even get to —“

“Still, no.” 

“Fine…” for a moment Satoru slumped into his chair, before quickly asking again, “how about —”

“No.”

Smiling as he rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward as he pushes down your laptop, his long, pretty fingers lightly tapping the case, “Do you hate Gojo Satoru?” His words slyly spewed out of his lips, anticipating your shy face when he catches you slipping for saying ‘no’ without much thought.

“Yes.” 

“Boo,” Satoru pouted while retreating to his side, slumping his back to rest his cheeks on his textbook as he closed his eyes.

With your screen down it was easier to take notice of his features. Not that you were blatantly indifferent about his looks — everyone knew Gojo Satoru was handsome — but you rarely got to see him for who he was underneath all the layers of superficial worth people praised him for. 

There was a lot on his shoulders from the brief mentions about his family and childhood that you could sense. It was easy to tell that behind all the crazy and loud was a little boy hiding his loneliness and pain under a mask and careless demeanor. 

You noticed his lips were mildly protruding out, his brows slightly furrowed and his white hair gently frayed down on his forehead with his lashes long and occasionally fluttering. His skin was unblemished and his jaw was sharp yet his face still held the youth of his age.

He’ll soon prepare to work for his family business, learning about the intricacies of the business and possibly becoming one of those cutthroat bosses you’ve seen in the dramas. 

He’ll probably grow a bit more — he’s been working out a lot Gojo would say, proven by the multiple thirst traps he’ll post. His arms were getting a lot more defined, and his abs… oh, you didn’t mean to take a peak. But guess you did have a front-row seat to his almost topless torso when he mindlessly pulled up his shirt while he took off his sweatshirt.

can't say you disliked the view.

You remember feeling warm that day — stomach fluttering with something, while your back felt gently embraced with his scent and clothing. 

“You checking me out?” Gojo muttered without taking a glance at you, pulling you back into reality.

“N-no!” you quickly looked away, opening up your laptop as you grimaced at the harsh stares you got from those around you for the noise, “j-just wondering if you were going to study or not?” you murmured, hiding your face behind your laptop and your cheeks starting to feel hot.

“For someone so smart you ask dumb questions,” Gojo chuckled as he stretched out his legs, his feet purposefully tapping against yours, “what does it look like I’m doing, sweetheart?” he quietly mumbled before his voice started to fade out, “you know,” silently yawning as his body curled inward — all 6’3’’ of him on the small desk that barely housed his long legs — the tapping of his foot now softly, soothingly, rubbing against yours, “you gotta work smarter, not hard…er…”

You weren’t sure if the man before you was a complete idiot or a genius. but for unknown reasons, this guy surprisingly scores the top grade in his classes when his only method of “studying” is sleeping with his head on top of his textbook — surely, the world isn’t fair.

Despite the little snore you heard in front of you, with the light grunts he made from the uncomfortable position, you couldn’t help but fondly look at the guy in front of you. 

Smiling — yea, you’ve been doing that a lot these days.

You decided — maybe, opening up wouldn’t be so bad… 

For you, you remembered it was the first time you felt odd in the stomach. A bit like butterflies as you watched him doze off to sleep, trying your absolute best to restrain your hands from moving a piece of hair that covered his face as he slightly drooled while you studied. You’ve been catching yourself stalling time to meet him where he supposedly just ran into you — he was nice and the epitome of warmth, and you liked that in your dull world. 

But for Satoru, it was another failed attempt to get closer to you. 

He remembered waking up in an empty library — alone. he swore he rested his head for no more than thirty minutes, but how the hell was the time three hours past that? 

Stretching as he released a low groan, his gaze foggy as he squinted his eyes to look for you, only to frown when he realized you were nowhere to be seen.

“dammit” Satoru grumbled while quickly packing his bags, “I wanted to buy dinner —” 

A neon post it leafed its way down to the table, planting face down as Gojo slowly blinked in confusion while touching his forehead.

Picking up the piece of paper, it read:

Hey loser, you were mumbling about some food while you slept, so I got you dinner and placed it next to your backpack. go home and eat ( :

p.s. also, stop bothering me, weirdo.

p.p.s. you know you drool while sleeping?

Dumbfoundedly wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Gojo wasn’t sure if he was blushing from embarrassment or the fact that you were the first girl to buy him dinner — well, it wasn’t in the typical romantic sense… but who the fuck cares, it’s the fact that you bought him dinner; therefore, a step a closer to his goal. So he wins.

Carefully folding the note and placing it into the safeguard of his wallet, Gojo quickly strapped on his bag as he gently held onto his dinner, cradling it like a prized possession, mentally noting what to use for his excuse tomorrow while he made his way down the stairs to the exit.

The air felt oddly cold for the summer. the slight breeze brushed against his face, the ends of his hair tickling his cheeks as he breathed in the damp air.

Everything felt good — right almost despite his lost chances of getting dinner with you. Perhaps he can save that for another day. 

“Just you wait,” beaming up at the moon lighting up the campus, his blue eyes sparkling as Gojo declared, “you will be mine.”

…

“ — Satoru-kun,” his professor called out. His impatience ran thin as he tapped his foot against the floor, “if you don’t answer, I will fail you —” 

“Sensei, the limit just simply doesn’t exist — it’s limitless.” Satoru nonchalantly responded, cooly peaking at his watch now — maybe the time would read faster with that — but the second hand still stayed the same, seconds excruciatingly feeling long. 

“No matter how difficult you propose this function, if the derivative doesn’t exist, nor will its limit.” Gojo continued to calmly iterated his reasoning.

“But doesn’t this point here,” pointing at the board, the chalk panging against the surface, “exist?” his professor challenged, “it’s a point on the graph.”

“Well, no matter how far you stretch this graph within the axes, going as far as trying to touch the asymptotes, it will never. because the limit will always be limitless since the function at those points won’t exist. So, no, that point isn’t on the graph.”

“And what about here?,” pointing to the chalkboard,“what is your answer, Satoru-kun?”

“Assuming you only have one x to one y, then the answer is simple. By definition, the limit will exist if the points on both sides of that graph approach the same point. To find that point, well that depends on the graph given. And looking at this graph, no. there are two points that are open.”

It should be about damn time. 

Gojo felt his blood rushing through his body, heart anxiously pumping with each heavy thud drumming to his ears, the only sound audible that his brain could decipher instead of the pointless questions his professor was asking — why was he making it so goddamn difficult. 

His urgency spiked up as adrenaline pumped through his body, anxiously shaking his leg, Gojo clicked his phone open again, his large hand covering the device as he peeped down. 

11:48 — shit.

“Well, what about when —”

“Shit, I'm late,” Gojo cursed, frantically packing up his bag and zipping it up.

“Excuse me?” His professor frowned, obviously taken aback by his student’s daring use of profanity in his lecture.

But paying no mind, Gojo quickly stood up and paved his way out, harshly whispering past with a light smile as he hugged onto his bag,  “Psst, sorry, going through!” doing his best to swiftly move through the cramped isles while his giant, uncaring if his lanky build caused a nuisance in the middle of the lecture, unbothered if his professor was done talking to him or not, 

“Satoru-kun?” His professor was flabbergasted at his student’s rude ignorance.

“excuse me, sorry!” Satoru cheekily exclaimed while finally making his way out.

“I haven’t dismissed —”

“Sensei sorry!” Gojo exclaimed while opening the lecture door, ready to sprint out, “I promise, I’ll pass your exam tomorrow!” he blurted, voice fading off into the distance and Gojo now nowhere to be seen.

“... at least don’t sit in the middle if you’re always going to barge out like that,” his professor murmured to himself, massaging the bridge of his nose as he sighed. 

Yet the only response he got was silence, the awkward creaking of the door closing, and the clock striking the end of his lecture. 

“Fuck,” he panted while brushing his fingers through his hair, a little damp from his sweat, his chest huffing from the sprint across campus as he looked at his watch, brows furrowed as his eyes searched everywhere for a glimpse of you. 

“Not there,” he mumbled, gazing to his side, “no, not here,” frustratingly turning around as he scanned the area just in case you slipped out the back door, his eyes loosely looking past a couple of figures, “damn it, not here too.”

“What’s not here?” he heard a soft voice from behind him. 

“Just looking for someone,” without processing, Satoru blurted out, “uhm… sorry just talking to myself —” Gojo mumbled as he slowly turned around, impatient that someone was taking away his precious time to find you.

Call him a dreamer but he was still hopeful that you possibly didn’t just leave — I mean how could you, when he made it a point to always see you after class, you couldn’t be that clueless.  

“You’re late,” you stated, trying to stifle your laugh, his busy eyes quickly changed to ones of nervousness as he registered who was exactly in front of him. His clear, azul eyes were imbued in sheer panic as his expression dwindled to eventual ease as a droplet of sweat ran down from his temple.

“Oh god, uhm,” scratching his head as he awkwardly looked off to the side, whispering under his breath, “I- I ended class a little late, but great to see you again,” he tried composing himself while smiling — the one that made his lips twitch from nervousness.

“I see,” you hummed, “you seem out of breath, Gojo,” you teased, remembering just how frantic he looked minutes prior while running over. 

You ended class a bit earlier, wondering if he’d be waiting outside like he normally did, pacing back and forth to make it seem like he simply ran into you — how utterly stupid was he?

But it was you that would giggle, feeling the type of happiness that made your heart full and cheeks hurting — guess you were the stupid one for falling for such an act. 

So you decided to wait today, standing off in the corner to witness how he would stage his act — you just didn’t expect him to be in such a panic rush trying to get here.

“Yea, y-you know those stairs, it gets me all the time,” Gojo stiffly laughed as he fisted his hand behind his back, trying to steady his breath and nose from embarrassingly flaring.

“Satoru,” giggling as you peeped up, noticing just how much taller he was compared to you while his hands nervously twitched and cheeks rosy despite his firm stance that his class was only but a few steps away from yours, you couldn’t help but smile at his innocence, “there are no stairs in this building.”

“Satoru, huh… that’s a change… sounds so nice rolling off your tongue,” he pondered while staring at your lips. It was cute and just perfect as you said every letter, every syllable of his name —

“Earth to Gojo Sa-to-ru,” waving your hands, tip-toeing to get his attention.

“Ah, right…. Sorry,” he mumbled, shyly looking away only to take a quick glance at you looking up at him. 

“So…” cocking your head to the side, eyes doe-like while looking up through your lashes, “ what’s the plan for today? You softly chirped.

“uhm,” eyes widen, shocked at your response, “what?” his voice was unexpectedly sharp.

“I asked what are we doing today….” Rolling on your heels, “I-isn’t that why you’re here?” you nervously asked.

“Just like that?” Gojo glanced at you, eyes full of suspicion. 

“What do you mean?” you questioned, lips starting to form a pout as you awaited his answer.

“Sorry,” he sighed, stretching his legs out to match his height with yours, “didn’t mean to sound harsh,” he apologetically whispered while gazing into your eyes.

“It’s just that you always reject me…  I - I mean,” holding his hands up, shaking in defense to not offend you, “don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it,” furrowing his brows as he shook his head, “no, no, let’s retract back. I’m thrilled that you’re asking me. It's just that…” his voice slowly fading as if embarrassment finally caught up to his head.

“It's just what?” you softly mumbled. 

“Well,” sighing, “I had all these excuses planned out just in case you said no,” he confessed as he pulled his phone from his pocket, “It’s all in my notes app.”

“Notes app huh?” your lips twitched from trying to contain your laugh.

“So what was the excuse for today? or… ” you teased, gently hitting your elbow against his arm, “should I say no, so your efforts don’t go to waste?”

“Thought we could go for coffee after I uncoincidentally bumped into you after your class,” Satoru shrugged.

“Coffee sounds nice,” you hummed, “you’re buying?”

“Here gimme,” he softly encouraged, quickly taking your bag and swinging it over his shoulder, “I mean, I do owe you one for bumping into you that one day.”

“Ah, so you do admit, that was your fault,” you jokingly glared, “the headache you put me through because of your stupid five hundred dollar shirt,” you grumbled.

“Well technically it was a bit more,” he grinned, “but not really, I believe in fate,” he winked, “it was a divine moment.”

“You’re ridiculous,” rolling your eyes, “but I need to study.” 

“I have an excuse for that too.”

“And what could that be?”

“I got an exam tomorrow, so you can watch me be handsomely studious,” Satoru smiled.

“For what class?” stunned to hear Gojo Satoru and studying be spoken in a sentence together. 

“Business calc,” he frowned.

“Oh my god! Who’s your professor?” you beamed. 

“The one and only Takashi sensei,” Satoru chuckled, softly patting your head as he couldn’t resist your cute enthusiasm.

“What?” your voice suspicious, yet you had no resolve to remove it — it felt nice, his hands were big… you realized. 

“Nothing,” biting his lip to contain his laugh,” it’s just… that’s the most you’ve shown interest in me.” 

“Whatever…” you huffed to flush out the embarassment, “I have him next semester —” 

“I know,” he softly responded, his words going unnoticed.

“— and I’m worried because math isn’t really my forte,” you honestly confessed.

“That’s why you have me!” he stood with his chest tall, his thumb pointing at himself, “I’ll be your dependable, hot tutor that you fall in love with.”

“You’re ridiculous…”

Winking, “I don’t charge pretty girls like you —”

“So you’re telling me, you tutored other girls by being their hot and dependable tutor?” you raised a brow, standing to one side as you crossed your arms.

“What? N-no, that’s not it!” 

“mhm, yea… playboy,” shaking your head,” so why are you taking business calculus? Thought you tested out of it, no?”

“Well… a man has his reasons,” he cheekily stated.

“And how does that help me to study?” raising one brow as you questioned his logic, “ I thought your method of studying was sleeping on your textbook.”

“Okay wow, I was not prepared for that. You’re making it difficult for me again, but you know what?” pulling his sleeves up as he stood tall in front of you, “I’m prepared for your rejections. And in answer to that, then we can study together.”

“But you talk too much, and snore when you fall asleep.”

“Not true,” Satoru murmured, “Suguru said I was generally a peaceful and quiet sleeper.”

“Explain generally,” you eyed him suspiciously, “and I didn’t know you both were like that,” giggling, your heart slowly expanding in adoration the more you talked with him, “... sleeping together and such.”

“We just had one too many nights where we would pass out a little drunk after a party,” scratching the back of his head, “and m-my body runs a little hot… so…”

“So…?”

“So, Shoko may or may not have some photos of us,” Gojo’s face started to contort in disgust, “cuddling…”

“But aside from that,” he tried defending himself, “I’m very great to sleep with!” 

“Sure…” you gave him a teasing glance, “I’ll ask Geto the next time I see him about that.”

“Hey…” suddenly stepping closer to you, his voice serious yet soft. He was careful to not overstep any boundaries you might have placed, slowly reaching down to grasp hold of your fingers, 

“just give me a chance yea? I’ll be good, I- I won’t snore, I won't drool, and I’ll only talk when I need to, hmm?” he reassured

You can almost feel the sore desperation in his voice as you feel the feathery grazes of his fingers against yours; his breath held as he anxiously awaited your answer.

“Okay,” you softly mumbled.

“Great,” releasing his breath, “you won’t regret it, I promise,” Gojo whispered while smiling.

“Hey Satoru,” you lightly called out, his name perfectly rolling off your tongue — so delicate, so pretty.

“Mhm,” he invited you to continue.

“Did you run here?” You questioned, playing with your foot as you rolled a rock on your shoe, “you’re normally not so out of breath.”

“Pssh, no,” he awkwardly laughed, “I told you my class is in this building as well —“

“Stupid, come here,” you murmured, pulling him slightly down, taking a piece of your sleeve as you tiptoed to reach his face. Gently dabbing the small droplets of sweat under his soft white bangs, “next time don’t run. And finish your class, Sensei’s going to hate you,” you softly told him.

“I- I told you,” blushing because your face was way too close — dangerous even — examining your features, ‘pretty’ he thought as he watched you concentrate on him,

“I just happened to have class —“

“I’ll be waiting next time, so take your time coming,” you smiled, looking into his eyes before quickly flattening your feet, “it’s quite far to come here from across campus, no?”

Satoru just gives in, like the hundred different times where he willingly lost to you, “Not as hard as scoring a date with you,” he smiled while spreading his feet out to make it easier for you to continue.

“It’s not a date,” you mumbled, your cheeks feeling hot as his soft eyes gazed at you, his two hands lightly placed on your hips to draw you closer.

“It is so definitely a date,” Satoru professed, “and I can just tell,” his voice feathery and light, “that we’ll have many more.”

10 years later —

The light scratching on his pen against the document loomed in his office. Ijichi, his most trusted secretary anxiously waited for his boss to finish signing his papers, watching guard just in case he didn’t go running off before finishing all his duties — again.

“You don’t need to stand there hovering,” Gojo nonchalantly stated, his wrist gently peeking through his cuffs, his watch shining with every stroke of his name.

“Well, these reports are important that you have them signed by today,” Ijichi nervously answered.

“Do you have it ready?” Gojo responded without removing his gaze from the file he was reading just before signing.

“I-I do, the flower shop did say it was difficult to find the specific color, but they made it work. I’ll bring it over when you’re done… and reservations have been made, sir.”

“Perfect, because…” his voice calm and emotionless, his hair once perfectly set in the morning, now just a little frazzled from his busy day, his tie now loose from his stress, “this should be the last one I do,” Satoru smiled while giving his secretary the folder. 

“Sir, uhm you still have —”

“I’ll do them tomorrow,” Gojo stood up, reaching over to grab his coat, quickly throwing it over his broad shoulder.

“B-but!” Ijichi was frantic, his eyes shaking at the visible stack of papers Satoru had yet to sign — and oh, god, he didn’t even get to read over the file for tomorrow’s presentation.

“Satoru-sachou, the Chairman will be there for tomorrow—“

“And the flowers are beautiful, she’ll love them, thank you,” Gojo warmly smiled while taking a whiff of its scent, walking past the frazzled man to a mirror to quickly freshen up his white hair and clothes, reapply your favorite cologne and spray some mint into his mouth.

“Satoru-sach —”

“Relax, when have I ever worried you?”

'always,' Ijichi thought.

Nonchalant and unbothered as he fixed his tie, “It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, and you’ll be fine,” Satoru stated as he took one look at the mirror, his sharp cerulean eyes looking at his secretary, “go take the night off, you look exhausted.” 

You! You are the source of my stress and mental breakdowns! Ijichi wanted to scream.

While making his way to the door, Satoru quickly noted, “I’ll be here in the morning with all of it finished,” he stated before leaving his office.

At a loss for words, helpless in front of his careless boss, Ijichi just stood frozen, mind racing at all the changes and accommodations, the phone calls and e-mails he’d have to make to fit into Gojo’s schedule because he knew for sure… Gojo Satoru will not be here bright and early in the morning to finish his work — especially when it is date night.

“I should just quit,” falling to his knees, defeated by his boss’s carelessness to simply skadoodle off on a date when he was one impacted by the brunt repercussions of his actions, “surely he wants to kill me with all this— ” 

Disrupting his internal monologue, “Ah, I almost forgot,” Ijichi’s mortal enemy spoke while opening the door and holding onto the knob, “I booked a small vacation for you and your wife for this weekend, it should be in my drawer,” the man simply blinked in response, “and don’t call me until I text you, I got important business for tonight,” Gojo warned before his voice quickly changed to that of pity, “yea… you definitely need that break,” he stated as he shook his head and closed the door again.  

Registering what just occurred, Ijichi grunted as he lifted himself up, brushing his knees as he walked towards Satoru’s desk, lightly skipping as the scales of his exhaustion flaked off from the caring act of his boss, “Well, guess I gotta start sending those emails now…” Ijichi hummed.

…

“Traffic doesn’t seem too bad,” Gojo muttered while looking at his phone’s navigation, his steps pacing as the clicks of his heels echoed through the halls of the empty parking garage.

Sliding his hand behind the handle, the car automatically turned on as he opened the door. Lowly grunting as he entered his Bentley, his eyes quickly scanned his back seat from the rearview mirror, his mind recalling a moment a couple of days prior that left you rather speechless in his arms — hot and sticky as he reconfirmed once again his love for you in a rather lustfully carnal matter.

He could do that with you — boyfriend privileges.

It’s not like he picked out this specific car, testing out the back specifically for its… spacious seating and tinted window. Totally didn’t bring this car to work today because he wanted to test those specifications out again… but only if you were up for it. 

And stepping on the gas pedal, Gojo drove out, the light screeches of his car heard from inside. 

“Daddy’s coming, sweetheart,” Gojo chuckled while firmly placing a grip on his wheel, his vacant arm resting on the side. 

Though a decade has gone by, Satoru still feels the same giddiness that he did when he was eighteen. He’s gotten taller, bulkier in his frame, and styled his clothes better from the god-awful sweats he always wore — though you still seem to always complain if he wasn’t wearing his specific gray ones, he doesn’t blame you. It makes his dick look nice.  

He kisses you a lot better than the sloppy ones he gave you in his teen years. He gets to wake up with you — face cutely bloated, tummy peaking through his loose shirt, legs entangled with his as he takes in your beauty. He likes that, all of it. 

He reads and understands your quirks before you even tell him. And strangely so, when you have a headache, well god be damned, he had one too. 

He’s become more influential and held power to his name, leading a multi-billion company, but in the privacy of his home, he was still silly, honest, and vulnerable. Contrary to the changes throughout the years, Satoru was still the same — a lovesick man.

Despite your harsh decision to break up with him from a simple misunderstanding, Gojo never held it against you. He’s grown to understand and works to amend the loss — together. It was his time to grow, his time to expand his horizons and his time to explore his options. But guess fate was really on his side because he walked back to where it all started with a fresh start — finding you two years ago at a college reunion. 

Life was good for Satoru — better when you came back into his world. Mornings weren’t so tough and nights didn’t feel so lonely. His mundane days of meeting and mediocre dates were of the past. Now, even the simplest days felt refreshing.

Looking out as he drove through the highway, a couple minutes from your workplace, he watched the city’s skyline sparkle in the dark. He recalled the days when he looked out the night sky, thinking if you were happy, wishing he could just understand why you decided to leave him — only for him to make some regrettable choices of relying on alcohol and texting quick fucks, slipping into weakness during the quietest of times.

It’s often when everything was quiet that felt the loudest — the most difficult to bear for him.

But now, when he sees the night sky he can’t help but feel warm with a slight tingling resonating from his core because even if it's quiet, he isn’t alone — you’ve nestled into a portion of his heart that he could never forsake, nor did he want to. 

She’ll like that, Gojo thought while looking up, making a mental note to mention it to you later.

He felt his heart beating fast as he imagined what face you would make when you would see him today — happy, relieved, excited? Or did you happen to have a bad day, the exhaustion dripping from your slumped shoulders simply needing a hug with light kisses as he expressed his love?

And parking his car, carefully grabbing the bouquet as he took another whiff — he doesn’t remember flowers smelling so beautifully fragrant when you weren’t in his life, but strangely now… it does. 

“Yellow tulips are my favorite,” you mentioned once while Satoru dropped you off at your dorm. 

“Why,” he asked. Repeating ‘yellow tulips’ in his head multiple times just so he can type it into his notes app later when he was alone.

“Just cause… they’re beautiful and they symbolize hope and happiness,” you softly said, “I like to think there’s something out there I can be hopeful for… and maybe find the answer to finding true happiness, if that even exists, ” you shyly confessed with a gentle laugh.

And grabbing hold of your hand, gently bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss, specific to a finger on your left hand, Satoru marked a promise, “I’ll buy you all the yellow tulips in the world, till you find that answer.” 

Obviously, no flower could come abysmally close to your natural scent when he held you tightly in his arms, naked bodies touching as he breathed into your skin. 

And he hoped the time he spent with you was a step closer to finding your true happiness because, to him, you meant the world.

“She’ll be out in a few, so...” he murmured while taking a look at his watch, briefly scanning the entrance to find a good spot to wait. 

“There should be perfect,” he whispered to himself as he made his way to the corner — a place difficult to see through from the dangling tree leaves and vines.

Satoru couldn’t help but pleasingly reminiscence the times when he would run from his lecture to pick you up. Who can blame him, he was a man on a mission to find his princess — just so happens that she broke his heart eight years ago — but who the fuck cares about setbacks, things were good now.

He feels his heart beating, the familiar thumping in his chest as he waits for you. The usual sweating of his palms as he checked his phone for the time again, mentally groaning as time seemed to be infinitely fixed. Good thing there was no sensei asking him useless questions as he nervously waited.

“I’ll see you next week, have a great weekend Tanaka-san.” 

Gojo could realize that voice anywhere.

There you were, waving goodbye to a fellow male coworker that he had never liked — the lovely Tanaka-san, you always had so many great things to say about. He should just have you transferred to his company, you’ll thrive, and even have a chance to expand your talents … but you’ll give him an earful if he does.

But that’ll be a conversation for another day when he’s more willing to put up a friendly fight with you.

Because right now, he had a mission  — one he’s been striving for since eighteen.

“Ah, fancy I see you here,” Satoru voiced out, coming out from the dark with a hand behind his back, “must’ve been fate that we meet,” he stated with a wink.

Rolling your eyes with a chuckle, turning around to see your boyfriend walking over, “did you run here? Or…” you hummed while looking over to find his Bentley parked on the right, “are you gonna tell me you work here too?”

“Neither,” he shrugged while walking, “just came here to ask a pretty girl out on a date, that’s all,” his voice soft yet enticing as he now stood so closely in front of you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend,” you looked around, your knees feeling weak when you caught his confident smirk, the sweet scent of his cologne hypnotizing your senses, “have you seen him? He’s really handsome, you know?” you played on.

“You do?” Satoru warmly stated as he gave you the bouquet he was hiding behind his back, his fingers gently resting on your hips as he pulled you in, your dainty heels standing in between his larger dress shoes while he pressed a warm kiss to your cheek, “Bet your handsome boyfriend doesn’t have flowers for you like this, no?”

“He gets them for me all the time,” you took a whiff of the rose and caught sight of the yellow incarnation of hope, “and always picks me up from work even though it drives his secretary insane.”

“Pssh, what a bad boyfriend,” he whispered with his gaze traveling to your lips, “you should totally dump him for me,” he pitched while cupping your face, lips teasing to touch, the slight minty breeze of his breath warming your cheeks, as he slowly closed the impending gap between you two, 

“what do you say, sweetheart? Give me a chance and I’ll treat you to more than just coffee for our date tonight.”

note: hope you all enjoyed! it was rather difficult to pull out this piece because I was heartbroken from the last jjk chapter... but all is well now because gojo is healthy and well in the forbes30! universe. this was a headcanon that spiraled into a 6k fic... and hopefully i'll be able to expand on the other hc's i have for him, without breaking the word count rip

[noahsresources]

PROMPTS FOR MUSES WHO ARE LITTLE SHITS™ !

for all the muses out there who like to mess with others!! mainly meant for platonic relationships, but can be used for romantic & antagonistic relationships as well! feel free to modify any pronouns, descriptor words, & objects for your needs!

FROM THE LITTLE SHIT.

words. ❝ how'd you like the fake spider in your room? ❞ ❝ hang on a second, i'm gonna record this — ❞ ❝ i took 20 bucks out of your bag last night. ❞ ❝ alright, that's it, time for the tickle monster treatment! ❞ ❝ oh, yeah? and what are you gonna do about it? ❞ ❝ i think i might have accidentally just hurt myself again. ❞ ❝ what makes you think you can possibly take me? ❞ ❝ outta the way, i was here first! ❞ ❝ sorry, i lost that a little while ago. ❞ ❝ hey, come on! it was just a prank! ❞ ❝ i'm seriously thinking about forcing that secret out of you. ❞ ❝ wait, did YOU say you wanted the last piece of pie in the fridge? 'cause i kinda just ate it ... ❞

actions. [ SING ] — sender starts singing raunchy lyrics around receiver [ WRESTLE ] — sender attempts to start play-fighting with receiver [ FINGER ] — sender flips receiver the bird [ LAUGH ] — sender tries to make receiver laugh [ LEAN ] — sender puts their full weight on receiver [ COLD ] — sender puts their cold fingers under receiver's shirt [ DRIVE ] — sender begins to drive very fast with receiver in the car with them [ FOOD ] — sender steals a bite of receiver's food when they're not looking [ BLANKET ] — sender pulls receiver's blanket off them while they're half-asleep [ PRANK ] — sender pulls a prank on receiver (bonus points if a type of prank is specified!)

FOR THE LITTLE SHIT.

words. ❝ hey, stop that! ❞ ❝ careful, i just got that new furniture. ❞ ❝ okay, okay, i'll do anything, just please stop tickling me ... ! ❞ ❝ god, you're such an asshole! ❞ ❝ i swear, if you do that one more time ... ❞ ❝ i didn't actually think it was that funny. ❞ ❝ aw, dammit, you broke it! ❞ ❝ you can't go 24 hours without having some kind of accident, huh? ❞ ❝ you just cheated! i watched you! ❞ ❝ if you even think about messing with me today, i will end you. ❞ ❝ are you drunk or something? because that was some of the weirdest shit i've ever heard. ❞ ❝ okay, i won't lie, that was actually pretty funny. ❞

actions. [ HEADLOCK ] — sender puts receiver in a headlock [ CHASE ] — sender chases receiver around in frustration [ RUN ] — sender runs from receiver to avoid being pranked/scared [ NUDGE ] — sender briskly nudges receiver in response to a snarky comment [ IGNORE ] — sender pretends to ignore receiver [ PULL ] — sender is dragged into pulling a prank with the sender [ CLEAN ] — sender begins cleaning receiver's mess [ WIPE ] — sender begins cleaning receiver's injuries after pulling a stunt that doesn't end well [ LEAVE ] — sender storms off in frustration after being messed with by receiver [ REVENGE ] — sender pulls a revenge prank on receiver (bonus points if a type of prank is specified!)