#implying he knows math

[unhingedselfships]

So. Ishin!Kimi. Let's talk.

So at first I struggled to figure out how this lil American dumbass ended up in Japan.

She didn't. I'm stupid. 1860s Kimi is European. German father, French mother. Merchants for ease sake. She ended up tagging along on a trade trip. Buuut her dumbass got lost and didn't make it back to the boat for days. Long enough in fact, that they had to give her up for dead and leave. Poor Kimi. XD

So here she is, stranded in a foreign country, speaking 5 languages that are not even close to the right one. She manages to pick up bits but for the most part, is lost, confused, and distressed.

By some accidental hijinks I haven't decided on/thought about, she ends up saving the life of someone v important. (Tokugawa? Probably.)

This leads to her being moved in and kept staying as a pet guest.

She tries to help out and do things but is mostly waved off. She does introduce new sweets/snacks. And uses her one talent (I do not have IRL, let me have this ok XD) to indicate when the foreigners are being shittier than normal. Its quite awhile before she picks up enough Japanese to be specific, but she at least learns ways to express threats/etc.

She has a very blatant unsubtle crush on Okita that he gives her a ton of shit for at every chance. Not that she understands. She's just flustered and embarassed. He has more than once sensually recited dumbass shit like rice ball ingrediants or math equations just to fuck with her.

[noxious-fennec]

Vampire bats establish bonds by sharing regurgitated blood, un-self-aware cannibals are much the same.

[firefly-fez]

Me after seeing Riyo Chuchi’s “what happens when you get too old to fight” comment, implying they need to think of their accelerated aging, still blatantly refusing to accept the clones-age-twice-as-fast thing as canon:

*sticks fingers in ears* la la la it’s not a genetically faster aging it’s an environmental treatment in a growth acceleration chamber, a treatment they have to be subjected to and now that kamino is gone they won’t be subjected to it anymore 99 was just an early prototype testing the chamber that’s why he’s old, i mean rex canonically a generation one clone how could 99 be older than a generation one clone it doesn’t make sense…. it’s a growth acceleration chamber and without regular treatment they age normally all those lil’ clone cadets will age normally rex will age normally he looks like That in Rebels bc of stress and stress alone they’ll all age normally it’s fine nothing bad will happen to them ever la la la i cannot hear you it’s fine they’re fine

[feniverse-unfiltered]

Alright who wants to hear my thought process on how old TriMax Wolfwood is (jk illusion of free choice, but I will put it under a cut because it's long and a lotta math<3)

So to start off, let me first say I updated the timeline I posted (it's the same post, but I swapped out the images and updated the notes. I said I wouldn't touch it again and yet I'm still thinking about it almost 48 hours later AND doing SAT -esque math about it /sob)

Let me also say: I'm so bad at guesstimating ages, not like manga in general makes ages easy to guess but also yeah I don't actually know what a 9 year old looks like off the top of my head so there's definitely some bias here.... BUT ANYWHO

We're gonna go off of these key events:

Wolfwood leaving the orphanage

Wolfwood taking care of and reuniting with Maylene

To start: we know that Wolfwood left the orphanage 6 years ago, he returns during the year of PE 0114. So he left in the year of PE 0108

When Wolfwood reunites with Maylene he's "older" so he's undergone all the drugs and experimentation etc etc so that means the timeframe in which he reunites with Maylene would have to fall between PE 0108 and PE 0114. I'd er on the side of 109 and 112, seeing as for 113/114 he's traveling with Vash or helping the Ark invasion, so unless he randomly fucked off for a spell during that time he probably didn't see Maylene then. Ruling out 108 for similar reasons since I'm sure he'd be too busy training with the EoM within the year to go see her.

So, establishing PE 0112 as the latest point in time they can reunite: Maylene looks anywhere between 12-16 years old. (at ABSOLUTE minimum I'd say 10, and ABSOLUTE maximum, 17. She seems about the same age as Lina, and Lina is confirmed 12 years old but "looks older". She's not older than 18 because that would put her birth year in 0094, which would make her only 4 years younger than Meryl, and Meryl was 18 when Wolfwood left the orphanage, which would mean Maylene was 14 and would put Wolfwood at like 19 minimum when he left. More on that later)

So establishing Maylene's age range, that would put her birth year anywhere from PE 0095- 0102 When Wolfwood first meets Maylene she's a baby, at most a year old. For the sake of the argument, we'll stick with her being younger than that (making the earliest they could have met 0095). Wolfwood can't be more than 5 at that point, as that'd put him at the same age as Meryl, which would make him 18 when he left the orphanage (which doesn't seem correct) Personally, I think Wolfwood looks between 6 at absolute minimum and 10 at max.

So using the above time frames and the year Wolfwood left the orphanage (0108):

0095 at 5 years old mean's he'd be 18

0102 at 5 years old means he'd be 11

0102 at 10 years old means he'd be 16

0095 at 10 not possible, next possible year would be 0100 which would make him 18 (which again seems far fetched)

So let's lay this out: (year met Maylene : age left orphanage) At 5 years old: 96: 17 | 97:16 | 98: 15 | 99:14 | 100: 13 | 101:12 | 102:11

At 6 years old: 97: 17 | 98:16 | 99: 15 | 100:14 | 101: 13 | 102:12

At 7 years old: 98: 17 | 99:16 | 100: 15 | 101:14 | 102: 13

At 8 years old: 99: 17 | 100:16 | 101: 15 | 102:14

At 9 years old: 99: 18 | 100:17 | 101: 16 | 102:15

At 10 years old: 100: 18 | 101:17 | 102: 16

This is where the bias sets in:

When Wolfwood leaves the orphanage he doesn't look any older than 14 to me or any younger than 11 ( I personally read him in the 12-13 range, he could also just be a very runty teenager, which would be hilarious, but yeah I don't think so.) I also don't think anybody younger than 6 should be taking care of a baby, So we're gonna rule out anything that places him outside of that range which leaves us with this:

At 6 years old: 100:14 | 101: 13 | 102:12

At 7 years old: 101:14 | 102: 13

At 8 years old: 102:14

Using the min and max years and ages compared to where in the timeline Wolfwood's last fight is (6 years later) that would place him in the age bracket of 18 at youngest and 20 at oldest (give or take a year if you wanna be picky about it). Which means when he first meets Vash he's only 16-18/////

(And if you're like me and don't like the idea of Maylene being any younger than 12, then that means 0100 is the year and that would make Wolfwood 20 years old but that may be overly biased and again I think he’s younger than 14 when he leaves the orphanage. I also still don't think maylene looks like a 12 year old. If we assume she was actually a year old when she met Wolfwood that’d make her 13 tho)

Anyways, I need to go lie down now

[thelaughingmerman]

I'm thinking about the possibilities of Merfolk biology as if I was some nosy ass researcher.

Much like the varied life of the sea, Merfolk come in all shapes and sizes, ranging from the smallest recorded, about a foot tall (though he was adamant he was 1'2"), to just larger than a whale shark. There's rumors there are much larger Merfolk somewhere out in open ocean, but this hasn't been unanimously proven, and even Merfolk will tell you it could just be folklore. If true, such Merfolk tend to live in waters far below what a human can reach.

Merfolk also come in a variety of colors, fin types, and patterns, showcasing many similarities to other types of fish (shark-like fins and anglers atop their heads, for example). Similar biological functions are also noted, such as the presence of a lateral line, operculum, and swim bladder.

Although they can't live indefinitely away from water, they're regarded as semi-aquatic, and perfectly capable of breathing on land (as both lung and gill breathers?). Prolonged time out of water will result in dried skin, which is smooth, similar to a Catfish.

All Merfolk have a set of fins framing the sides of their face, and some have them on their arms, legs, heads, and backs. The fins framing their face are used for emoting, balance while swimming, making themselves seems larger to deter predators, and generally making themselves look attractive. Drooping fins are a sign of illness or general upset, usually.

Merfolk are omnivorous, and their diet isn't very restrictive. Whether they cook their food or not is up to personal preference. Some will gather food from islands or passing fishing boats. Or wherever else they can find it. The waters are full of fish, which means their food source is never scarce, but who doesn't like a bit of variety now and again.

The Merfolk are a magical people, and one with a great variety of folklore surrounding them. Some call them tricksters trying to lure you into demise. Other's still believe they are benevolent beings saving those wrecked at sea. (Our source for this information told us, "We're not all the same fish, are we? We're multi-faceted. Whole bunch of different people. Now mind you're business and go away, yeah?" So that was the end of our interview).

[max-iwtaco]

BRO IS USING MATHS TO WIN‼️

[archersgoon]

went looking for yata quotes because finnikins gilf hunter moment remains one of his best. am now doomed to yata math torment

[phoenixkaptain]

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.

[arminsumi]

DIRTY TALK.

fem / afab reader

NOTE: just trying smth out... a dialogue-only smut scene from ur fave. it's literally just the script of what your fave is saying lmk know what u think :) it was fun to write and very satisfying bc i am a huge lover of dirty talk writing. anyways it was written with armin/gojo in mind but the char is ambiguous, you can insert anyone

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — diaolgue/script of your fave's dirty talk

WARNINGS — smut, dialogue-only

WARNINGS — pls ignore errors i wrote this over maths homework, dialogue-only smut, dirty talk, unprotected sex, he's super horny, soft dom, creampie, daddy kink, breeding kink, aftercare, slight size kink, "good girl" used, "slvt" used, "baby" used, pre-established relationship, playing with ur clvt, 2x orgasm (reader), laughing when he cums, implied overstim, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u, i'm sure it's fem reader implied but i wasn't too sure so idk lol it's 1 am im going to bed

WORDCOUNT ≈ 750

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

"God, I'm so fucking horny, baby. Spread those legs 'n let me use that pretty pussy, 'there we go. Here, put your legs on my shoulders. I've got you. Fuck look at that perfect pussy, all wet 'n ready for me — yeah? All for me? Just for daddy? Gonna let me stretch you out? Good, good girl. Breathe deep while I just s-slide the tip in. Oh fuck. Y-you're so fucking tight today, t-tighter than usual — fuck me — oh you're gonna make me cum so fast, haha. Loosen up a bit for me. Thank you baby, fuuuck let me slide it in, just like that. You're so perfect. Look at that... look how we fit together. Our bodies were made for each other, don't you think? Yeah? Oh fuck, don't clench up yet, loosen for me again. Fuck. That feels so fucking good — ahah — I'm not laughing at you, baby, j-just can't believe how good it feels to — fuck — ahhhuh — yeah that's a perfect little slut, just take daddy's cock like you're meant to."

"Gonna spell your name on this dick, baby? Yeah? Cream and cum all over it? Oh, fuck, can't wait to make you cum again and again and a-again — yesyesyes — fuck that's so good, when you tighten 'round my length like that. Feels like your cunt is sucking on my cock, 's so fucking good. Baby! Fuck, hold onto my arms if you need to. Oh, nasty slut moaning already? That's okay, you can let it out. Moan all you need to — moan into my ear while I fuck this little hole loose. Haha, are you gonna cum already? That's okay, you can cum. Play with that little clit — so cute. Faster, play with it faster. I wanna see you go numb on my fucking cock. Yeah? What is it? Oh this spot? You want me to fuck this spot? Right here? F-fuck, right here, baby? Yeah that feels so fucking good, doesn't it? Ooh, baby cum for me. Cum. Don't worry about a thing, daddy's got you safe in his arms. Let go and get your sweet relief. There we go — oh fuck, haha, there we fucking go. Someone came big time, huh? Look at those legs shaking. Yeah, now daddy wants to cum, too. Got me all fucking worked up. Just gonna take it out for a moment... ah, fuck don't worry baby I'm gonna put it back in. Don't wanna overstimulate you on accident. Huh? Oh? Really? Fuck alright, I'll fuck you up just like you want it, then. Turn around slut, let's give that pussy a good filling then. Oh my god 's fucking tigh-tighter. Shit, makes me wanna fucking bust. Baby? Look into my eyes and tell me how much you love this cock. Fuck. Yeah, again. Say it again. 'Need to hear you say it again, baby. Louder. Fucking louder. Don't care if the neighbours hear you, just need to hear that sweet voice breakingg while I fuck — fuck — baby yes, yes of course I'll cum inside y-you. Are you really sure? You're not on birth control, right? Gonna get that pusssy knocked up if I cum inside. Oh fuck — can you repeat that?! You want my baby? Yeah? Fuck, you want my seed? God, baby, yes, yes fuck I'll give you my fucking babies. I'll make you a mommy. Stay right there, fuck — oh my god I'm close. I'm so fucking close. Gonna fill up that pussy, stuff it so good not a drop spills out. Oh my fuckin' god you're creaming so much, 's this what you've been into all along? Sh-shoulda told me sooner, 'woulda fucked my cum i-into this tight hole — every — fucking — day. Fuck, baby, ahah I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna — oh god, yeah, you gonna cum again? Cum with me. Let me play with that clit. Fuck I'm cumming — I'm cumming — gonna cum so hard 'n knock up that pussy — fuuuck — oh god, fuckfuckfuck ahah — ahaha that's — so — fucking — good — fuck. Holy shit. I came so much... look at all that... aw baby, don't let it drip out; tighten up 'n keep it deep inside. Get pregnant for me. Hm? I love you, too, dumb baby angel. Let's get that pretty pussy cleaned up. Aw, you can't stand up by yourself? Legs too numb, huh? Here, I've got you. I'll massage your legs in the bath. Ah, you're the sweetest. Y'know how cute you sounded begging for my cum? Sorryyy! I like teasing you, you know that!"

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[skk-fan-page]

What does this:

Mean in the context of skk, 15, stormbringer, and dazai acting like a lovesick puppy.

Well, the first thing I notice is that it's heavily implied that dazai didn't say shit and hasn't in his entire employment at the ada. Everyone talks about the mafia with a certain level of "hey I heard about you because my mom's dad's aunt's best friend's knitting club was talking about you and one of the members' dog's coparent said they saw you at Walmart."

Between akutagawa, higuchi, and now chuuya, it's like they know nothing that might help them with the mafia.

Why wouldnt yosano know though, she used to be mafia? Well that's what I thought at first too. I figured maybe rumors had just spread throughout the mafia in her time there.

But, at the same time, add up these numbers and then tell me if the math is mathing for yosano to know anything about chuuya

Chuuya is 22 and joined when he was 15, meaning he joined 7 years ago. 14 years ago (11 when she finally escaped) means not only would she not have met him, he would've been 11 by the time she left.

Not only that, but she was an 11 year old child-doctor, which means she would've had no contacts in the Mafia and no friends to tell her anything.

And, most damning of all, in 15 phase.02 mori says this when asked about suribachi city.

By the time chuuya was awakened, yosano was already out.

So maybe it's kyouka. But here's the thing: she doesn't seem to know shit outside of her (old) job description. She was in such an information silo that she didn't know what a crepe was. That makes her out of the picture for me, especially considering she was the subordinate of the subordinate of the boss's subordinate.

So that leaves 2 options: word on the street, and dazai.

If I can get information on the second highest ring of your underground murder organization by asking around, your organization is getting shit on by the feds in 4 seconds flat.

So that leaves one option: dazai.

But he doesn't seem to be much of a sharer, so why would he share about mafia things? Well we have precedent for it.

There's this incident, proving he's totally chill with sharing about the mafia. And then, there's something so gay it will make you want to claw your eyes out and join the witness protection program to get away from how single you feel

I wish someone would look at me the way dazai looks at chuuya's corruption form. And he's even bragging about him and how cool and powerful he is.

Regardless, this proves that he does totally talk about chuuya when he's not listening, and that he's not the inscrutable clamshell of a man he pretends to be.

Now: the other implication. Chuuya just assumes dazai was talking about him, meaning this was a pattern in the past. We can see this pattern manifest in the party that dazai tries to throw in 15, as well as the fact that ango knows chuuya in dead apple.

How many times do you think dazai genuinely set up challenges for chuuya back in his mafia days, to the point where upon being recognized, his first thought is "dazai did this."

Just put a ring on it already guys.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Two

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, blood and injury, nurse!reader, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings of fear, anxiety. Panic attack. Implied past abuse. Implied stalking. Deep breath.

There is blood in Johnny's eyes.

He comes to with a start, Price’s voice barking out an order, pressure and flame and blood all washing over him, pain erupting across every receptor in his brain like he’s being shredded alive. 

“Bloody hell, hold him steady.” 

It’s still Price, roaring over the chop-chop-chop of the helicopter blades, bloodied hands trying to keep pressure on the hole in his stomach, his side. 

It burns. Everything burns, his body feels like it’s on fire, bones turning to ash inside his skin, chest being torn apart by some invisible force. He can’t get enough air. There is something shoved inside his ribs, something heavy that’s weighing his lungs down, keeping him underwater, cinderblocks tied to his feet.

He tries to move, but he can’t. 

Gaz is strapping him down to a stretcher, he thinks, and when he ratchets a strap across his legs, Johnny screams in agony. 

“’m sorry mate, I’m sorry.” 

Where is Simon? There are faces here, but none of them are the one he needs. His LT. “W-where is Si?” He slurs, and Price frowns, leaning back over his face, calling his name. 

“Johnny, Johnny. Hold still. You’re on a medevac. We’re lifting you to base.” 

“Si-“ 

“Simon isn’t here, remember? Johnny, oi. Keep your eyes open, Sergeant.” Remember? Does he remember? He tries. Tries to place his partner’s face amongst the rubble, the blast, the screaming. 

Where is Simon?

Your coffee maker sputters to life in the silence of your apartment, churning out the dark, thick, life-giving liquid, and you can’t beat back the glare that fixes your face upwards towards your neighbors, the ones who are running a marathon in their apartment at three in the afternoon.

Seriously. Is there a herd of elephants up there? 

You can’t be too disappointed in them, you know. It is normal working hours. Normal daytime hours. You don’t expect your neighbors to accommodate or understand your schedule. Still, it would be nice if they were just a bit more considerate. 

It’s not the end of the world, regardless. You're up now, already started your day, crawled out of bed and opened the blackout curtains to stand in the afternoon sunlight that streams through your studio apartment. You flick open your laptop as sip your morning coffee, logging into your banking app with quick efficiency, eyes roving over lists of numbers, figures adding and subtracting in your head. You’re so close to being able to move forward with the plan, the light at the end of the tunnel growing stronger and stronger, glowing bright with hope, something that once felt so impossible, so far away. You're going to make it. 

It’s a hike to the train.

You’re fortunate that you only have to take one, no longer having to change once, or twice, in the middle of your commute like you used to, but now you’re walking at least twelve blocks to get there, each way.

It makes you feel very exposed.

You keep your headphones in, hood of your jacket over your head, and move within throngs of people during the trek, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead, posture tilted just enough that you can watch the ground but still see in your peripheral. You don’t relax until you make it onto the platform, and even then, your head is on a swivel as you wait for the train to arrive, and you can melt into the mix of others. Seen, but not noticed. 

Old habits die hard. 

You swipe your card to proceed through the turnstile, cool metal sliding against your hands when you push forward onto the platform, settling against a pylon as you wait, flicking through the news with half interest.

The hair on the back of your neck rises.

Someone is watching you. 

Your skin goes cold, ice beneath your jacket, and your lungs stutter with short breaths. Logically, you know you’re wrong. The faces that wait alongside you are not focused on anything but themselves, too busy staring at their own devices, tablets, readers, phones. A woman fidgets with a stroller, a man wearing headphones spits some corporate nonsense out loud, obnoxiously. You’ve already looked them over, too many times. He’s not here.

You lean against the tile, rocking your back into the grimy wall, fingers clutching against the edge of your phone. He’s not here. You’re safe. The dark of the tunnel mocks you, laughs with his voice, its circular opening growing teeth like his, ready to devour you, drag you back to hell, swallow you whole and keep you there.

He's not here. You’re safe. He doesn’t know where you are. Deep breath. 

You breathe the words deep, counting the time of your inhales and exhales until the brakes of the train are squeaking and squealing to a stop, doors opening with a hiss. Everyone moves in tandem, an amoeba inching towards the same goal, get off, get on, and you go with it, pressing inside and shuffling towards the back, angling your body outwards, molded into a corner so tight your shoulders touch the walls of the train.

Deep breath. 

“Hey, you’re early!” The nurse you’re relieving smiles brightly at you, blonde hair pulled high in a scrunchie, stickers all over her badge and ID.

“Yeah, wanted to get caught up on some admin stuff but I’ve got it, if you want to…” you motion with your head, the universal signal of ‘if you want to leave’ without saying it out loud, lest you jinx it, and the place goes to chaos in the next five minutes. She nods eagerly, launching into a run-down of your beds, who’s stable, who’s sedated, who’s still on a vent. “-and two sixty-eight is about to come down from the PACU.” Your stomach clenches with anxiety, and you check your watch.

“They took him when I left this morning…”

“Yeah, I guess there was a complication. Had to re-open his chest, put in a new tube. Poor guy, he’s battered all to shit. Did you see the scans of his femur? It’s literally in pieces.” She sighs. “His partner is in the surgical waiting room, told him the next shift nurse would come find him when he could come back to the room.” Your anxiety heightens, and an alarm bell goes off in the back of your mind as you think about Simon, pacing back and forth upstairs, and Johnny, alone in the PACU, probably coming out sedation, terrified. What is wrong with you? 

“I hear those guys are like black ops or something.” Nia, the nurse who’s worked the last three rotations with you, comments over your shoulder as she drops her bag in the pit. You raise an eyebrow skeptically. Black ops? You shiver. “They air-lifted him from a military base that’s doesn’t even exist on a map. Cass and I checked.”

“Really?” The dayshifter perks up, interested, and you hold your hands out in caution.

“Okay, okay. Let’s not speculate.” You tap your number into the tablet, reading through charts and noting updates. A little green circle with an arrow through it blinks next to Johnny’s, signifying that he’s about to be moved. “Besides, he’s been through hell. Clearly. Let’s have a little, ya know. Respect?” They all cluck, rolling their eyes and groaning, but they shut up, and Nia gives you a little grin. You might not be the charge nurse, but you were the perma-night shifter on this floor, and the one with the most seniority in this moment. 

“Alright, well. You got this?” Dayshift asks, and you wave her off.

“Goodnight.”

“You’re the best. Bye ladies!”

Simon is easy to find. He’s wearing the exact same clothes from yesterday, black cloth mask still covering half his face, hoodie pulled up over his head. He looks less exhausted, but no less anxious, dark circles still present under his eyes, body language tense. He looks… scared.

He spots you just as easily, shooting to his feet when he sees you coming, hands clenched together in anticipation, and you motion to the chair, placing yourself next to him, turning slightly to ensure you’re giving him your undivided attention.

He shifts in the seat, legs spreading out against the stiff frame, and his knee bumps yours, warmth radiating beneath denim bleeding into your scrubs. If he notices or cares about the contact, he doesn't say anything, only blinks at you in anticipation. His head tilts before you start speaking, and your skin heats when you realize he’s looking you over, eyes tracing you from head to toe before pinning you in place with a focused scrutiny.

“Has anyone come to speak with you?” You ask, silently hoping that the surgeon actually did the last part of his job, and didn’t neglect the family member in waiting room, the one who’s holding their breath as every second ticks by.

Simon nods. “They said there was a complication with his lungs?”

“They had to plate his ribs. It will give the bleed in his chest a better chance at healing, help keep him stable. They also replaced his chest tube.” His brow furrows, and you pause. Maybe visualization will help. “Do you want to see?” You tap on the tablet, bringing up Johnny’s last imaging, scrolling through the pictures to show Simon what it looks like, pointing out the before and after CT of his chest, explaining the white vs grey spaces on the image. Simon studies it, taking the tablet in his hand, fingers tracing over the screen reverently, carefully, like he's touching Johnny himself. An ocean’s worth of emotions reflects in his gaze, despair, sadness, grief- all sitting just on the edge, nearly ready to spill over. Your heart skips a beat.

“Can I see him?”

“He’s coming down from the post-surgery unit now. I’ll have to get him resettled in his room, but I promise as soon as I can, I’ll come get you.” He twitches in the chair, rubbing the back of his neck before he huffs out something that sounds like ‘okay’, and you give him one more small smile with your ‘see you soon’.

Johnny is conscious when he comes up from the PACU, barely. His vitals look good, temperature, blood pressure, heart rate all in target ranges, and he’s due for another round of pain medication.

"Hey, Johnny." You smile down at him, sliding the lock on his bed in place and reattaching his leads carefully, gentle enough so you don't jostle him too much. 

"Hi, pretty girl." He slurs, and you chuckle, instinctively rolling your eyes before patting his good hand. 

“Came out of sedation fine, but he’s been a bit emotional.” The PACU nurse warns you, eyes soft with sympathy when she glances at him in the bed. “He’s asking for his partner, I think. Simon?”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.” You scan the post op notes, hitting all the important things, logging his last vitals check so you can administer his meds. The incision in his chest has been reopened, and then closed, and his lower body is completely immobilized in the bed, his hip pinned, femur delicately pieced back together with a plethora of plates and screws, so many you think it’s probably more metal than bone now. “How are you feeling?" You ask, heart tugging a bit at the hopelessness in his eyes. “Ready to get some more sleep?” He groans a response, words jumbled together and cracking into a sob that has tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Si..”

“He’s not back yet.” You try to explain gently, grabbing an extra blanket to put over the scaffolding around his leg. “Once I get you settled, we’ll bring him up, okay?”

“H-hurts.” He cries, vibrant blue eyes finding yours, scared, and desperate. “It h-hurts.” He’s openly crying now, shoulders starting to shake, and the monitor chimes at you, registering an increase in heart rate and blood pressure.

“I know. I know it does.” You clean his port, tracking the uptick in numbers on the screen. “Hey, hey. Shhh, it’s okay.” You try to calm him as you flush the line, pushing the saline from the side of the bed. “You’re alright. We’re almost,” You administer the medication easily, counting in your head, replacing it with another saline before reattaching his fluids line, all of the motions so second nature that it allows you keep your focus on him. “there.”

You expect him to calm down. Most patients do, but his heart rate continues to tick upwards, and his respirations don’t decrease, lungs heaving against the fresh sutures in his chest. His hand, the good one, skates across your elbow and down your forearm to grab a hold of you, fingers gripped onto yours tightly, like he’s afraid you might let go.

“It’s alright, Johnny. You’re okay.” His eyes don’t leave your face, his own jaw slack, pain meds coursing through his system. He's frightened, big blue eyes wide and anxious, and you squeeze his hand, stroking your thumb across his knuckles. “Deep breath.” You see patients upset, in pain, all the time. It’s an everyday part of your job. Even the hand holding is a necessary, frequent part of your profession.

But with Johnny, something feels different.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, just try to relax. Take some long breaths- good. That’s good.” You soothe him, rubbing soft touches into his skin. His head is turned to where you’re standing next to the bed, chest still heaving, and he winces with each exhale. “It’s just the last of the sedation, it can make you a little out of sorts. The pain meds are going to kick in real soon.” You reach over, and press the call button, twice. You can feel the pressure, the burn of his attention, his unwillingness to look away from you, and you hum out the softest words you can find, encouraging him to take calm, deep breaths. 

When Nia appears, she frowns. “Everything alright?”

“Hey, yes. Could you do us a favor and go up to the surgical waiting room? Johnny’s partner Simon, is waiting to be told he can come down.” She looks from you to him, reading the situation just as you would if the roles were reversed.

“Got it.” She makes her exit, fast, and Johnny gulps, still staring up at you with bright, wet, blue eyes.

“See? She’s going to get him. Everything’s alright.” He nods, barely, starting to succumb to the medication, and you exhale, letting out some of the tension from the last few minutes.

Simon comes through the door in a whirlwind, and you immediately raise your free hand, palm out, to slow his hurried panic.

“He’s okay.” You point to where Johnny is still clutching onto you. “He was still in a fair amount of pain when he came down, and coming out of sedation can be disorientating. I think he panicked a little when he realized you weren’t here.” He nods silently, taking his place bedside, towering over both you and Johnny, leaning past you to brush his lips against Johnny's forehead in a sweet, smooth kiss. 

"I'm here, sweet boy." He murmurs, voice so low you barely catch it. You step back, pulling your grasp from Johnny's, but he tightens his fingers, grip stronger than you anticipated, and you stop mid step, glancing to his partner. “I got him.” Simon reaches for where the two of you are connected, sliding his own hand overtop yours, replacing the contact before holding Johnny's hand whole. He’s so careful, lowering himself into the chair, carefully holding onto Johnny until he’s seated, bringing his palm to his mask covered lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Si.”

“I’m here Johnny. Rest.”

“Ye weren’t there.” He croaks, and Simon’s eyes shutter with a long inhale.

“I know.”

“Ah needed-“ He loses the words, dazed in a swirl of semi-consciousness. “was scared.” Simon strokes some of the hair that’s in disarray away from his forehead, smoothing his thumb back and forth above his eyebrow.

“Shhh, everything’s alright now. I’m here.”

The chair in supply closet 2b knows you well. It’s an old thing, something pulled from a patient room once it was deemed too squeaky, and too uncomfortable, shoved in here to be discarded at some point in the future.

That was months ago.

Now, it sits in a dark little corner, plastic packages of disposable PPE and gowns littered on top of it in a heap, excess supply with no place to live. Everyone takes turns in it, shifting whatever it happens to be holding that day onto the ground and settling in for what some could call a break, brief moments that could last seconds or minutes, quick opportunities to get off your feet and most importantly, not have to speak or be spoken to, for an indeterminate amount of time.

This is usually where you hide when you need a second. When there’s a lull, and the pit is full of nurses, techs, students or whoever else may have downtime, talking and laughing together, building relationships, getting to know one another. Making friends. It's a small luxury at work, to have that time, those friendships. 

Luxuries someone who wants to be seen, but not noticed, not known, does not have.

You close your eyes, head tipped back against the chair.

It’s okay to be alone. You can do this. Deep breath. 

Your mind floats to two sixty-eight, to Simon and Johnny. What is it like, to be loved like that? To be so fiercely cared for? Johnny’s teary, blue eyes and Simon’s soft, loving regard for him makes your stomach flip. You didn’t even know love like that was real. The only taste of love you’ve ever had left ash in your mouth, poison in your veins, and deep, deep scars across your body and soul that you’ll never be free of.

Deep breath. 

Your work phone and the tablet both start to beep, a shrill noise that makes you wince, muscle memory of what it indicates making you leap from the chair.

The screen shows a red flashing symbol next to room two sixty-eight.

Johnny.

“He’s tachycardic.” You tell the tech who’s fumbling with the phone, firing off a rapid text message to the on-call for this floor. You hold Johnny’s forehead still with the heel of your hand, using a finger to flick open his eyelids one by one, flashing the pen light across his pupils. “Pupils are dilated, BP is elevated- no call him- call him right now. Do what I said, I don’t care what he told you.” You bark, glancing up at where Simon is frozen across the bed from you, grip so tight against the rail that you think it might break.

“Simon-“ He cuts you off, but you’re half paying attention to him, too busy checking the site of Johnny’s chest tube, and then moving onto the dressing on his lower abdomen, ensuring it doesn’t feel scalding to the touch.

“He was fine. He was just… sleepin' and then-“ You move around the bed, pulling the oxygen tube longer, replacing the cannula with a mask.  

“Simon, I need you to step out.” You press two buttons on the machine, ensuring it’s on high flow, door sliding open with Nia’s arrival.

“No.” His refusal is steadfast.

“Simon, hey.” He lurches closer to Johnny, and on instinct, you reach out and grab his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes are wild, bleak with anguish, and his chest heaves heavily, panic radiating from his massive form. “Listen to me, listen. I’m here. I’ve got him, alright? But there are about to be five other people in this room, and we can’t work if you’re in the way.” You speak firmly, clearly, trying to get your point across as the door opens again, and the on-call attending is standing on the other side. Simon glances from him, back to you, and you nod reassuringly, swallowing the lump in your throat that forms when he latches onto your own arm, squeezing it tight. “He’s in good hands.” You tell him, nodding to the tech that’s waiting to usher him towards the hallway. 

He keeps his eyes trained on Johnny, before they flick over to where you’re lowering the bed completely flat, free hand on his bicep, thumb rubbing a small semi-circle into his skin, just like you watched Simon do last night, and earlier today. He swallows, endless depths of desperation welling in his eyes, and you take a deep breath, imbuing your voice with all the strength you have.

“I’ve got him. I promise.”

[pumpkinpie59]

things that are canon in the tmnt 1987 series

donatello hates fish, especially raw fish.

michelangelo once got a job to deliver pizza so he could earn money

leonardo is an avid reader and loves the three musketeers

donatello gave up coffee at one point during season 3

raphael and michelangelo seem to be closest to the punk frogs and visit them often

all of them seem to have separation anxiety, leonardo the most.

all of them enjoy gaming, but leonardo has beaten every game at the arcade and is ridiculously competitive.

also since leonardo has beaten every game at the arcade and we know there’s math games there bc donatello said he likes them, either leonardo is good at math or he’s just a really good guesser

leonardo is a talented artist.

donatello has a college degree under the name “miss donna tello”

raphael enjoys creating disguises and is the most stylish of the turtles when it comes to their clothing.

raphael seems to have an interest in pirates

donatello has model planes in his room

leonardo is allergic to ragweed

raphael dislikes the supernatural, meanwhile donatello refuses to believe it exists despite seeing multiple ghosts in person.

michelangelo has perfect pitch

donatello cries at happy endings

donatello loves the noir genre/aesthetic, and likes to narrate what he’s doing like he’s in a noir film

the turtles were mutated straight into teenagers, and it’s implied several times they remember their lives before they were mutated, including their turtle family members. leonardo has drawings of his turtle relatives on his bedroom wall.

donatello has a kill count of 2 (from what i remember)

raphael briefly took a chemistry course

[room-surprise]

How Old Is Thistle?

(EDIT: I've made a follow-up post to this one that goes deeper into the math and additional evidence that the 5:1 ratio is correct. You can read it here!)

I've seen people debating this and a lot of folks insisting that Thistle is a child, and since Thistle just debuted in the anime, I wanted to do a full write-up to help myself and others figure this out.

We don't know how old any of the Merini family members are exactly, so the best we can do is guess based on the information we have, but after carefully studying the manga, I think Thistle is at least a teenager, but much more likely a young adult, and definitely not a prepubescent child.

Here's what we know:

EDIT: Depending on what translation you read of some of the extra materials, Freinag implies that Thistle is the same age as some of his advisors.

Here's a detailed translation of this panel from my friend Fumi:

Elves age 5 times slower than tall-men.

16 year old tall-men in Dungeon Meshi's medieval time period are adults, they commonly join the military, get married, have children, etc.

An 80 year old elf is an adult. Pattadol is 82 and she's a lieutenant in a military unit. It's her first job and she's obviously a rookie, but Captain Flamela tells Pattadol to accomplish her mission or die trying.

Many fully adult elves look like what we might consider children or young teens, because they're short, petite, and have androgynous features.

An average elven adult is around 150-155cm tall (5 ft), meaning some are shorter than that, and some are taller. Thistle is 130 cm, which is short, but not unheard of.

Fleki is 130 (26) years old and she's 140 cm tall (4'7")

Otta is 137 (27) years old and she's 130 cm (4'5") tall, the same height as Thistle!

They are both women, but there's probably plenty of elven men in their height range.

Just so we can compare Thistle to some adult elven men, Mithrun and his brother are probably adults (or close to it) in the panel on the left.

Mithrun (in this image) is somewhere between 75 and 144 (probably in his 80's), and his brother is older than him (so he could be in his late 80s or 90s). As you can see, they don't look that different from Thistle, Otta or Fleki.

So, how old is Thistle?

(Spoilers below the cut)

Thistle was brought to the royal court as a child (found on the street, stolen or purchased, we don't know how they got him). At the absolute youngest I'd guess Thistle is 25 years old here (so about 5 years old for a tall-man.) He can already play the flute, and possibly the lute, and most children that aren't prodigies can't handle playing an instrument (physically or mentally) until they're around 5.

EDIT: We now know that Thistle is the same age as Freinag, the king that takes him in! So Thistle must be at least 25 years old in this comic, though realistically he could be anywhere from 25 to 40 based on how Kui drew Freinag.

He lived in the court for an unknown amount of time, Freinag hasn't changed much but Thistle appears to have aged a little, so let's say it's been 5 years and Thistle is 30 (6) when Delgal is born. More than 5 years could have passed, but I'm trying to keep the numbers low.

Delgal gets married and has a child. Delgal should be at least 15 at this point, but since he has a full mustache before his wedding, I think he's in his 20's, since teenagers tend to not be the best at growing robust facial hair.

(He has a full beard by the time Eodio's a young child.)

Thistle puts the kingdom inside the dungeon around this point, however, people are still aging: Delgal's grandson Yaad is born, and Eodio is clearly a young adult here, probably in his 20's. Therefore, there is NO REASON to assume Thistle stopped aging. "The dungeon lords don't age" is a common fan headcanon I've seen people spreading, but it has no clear canon basis.

Yaad ages until he looks about 13-15 years old, and at this point all of the people of the kingdom and Thistle appear to stop aging, and 1,000 years pass.

So, the youngest Thistle could possibly be, if he was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, if Delgal was 15 when he had Eodio, and Eodio was 15 when he had Yaad, and Yaad is 13 years old...

Is 73 years old, which would make Thistle about 14.6 years old by tall-man standards.

HOWEVER, I think it's VERY unlikely that all the characters are that young.

I think it's clear from Kui's drawings that Delgal and Eodio are not 15 years old when they become fathers, and that Freinag is at least 25 when he takes in Thistle.

If we assume Thistle was 30 when Delgal was born, and Delgal and Eodio were both at least 20 when they had children, even if Yaad is only 13 years old, that makes Thistle at least 83 years old (16.6), and makes him older than Pattadol, who is an adult at 82.

However, I think it's entirely possible that Thistle was anywhere from 40-50 when Delgal was born, and Delgal could have been anywhere from 20 to 30 when he had Eodio, and Eodio could have been anywhere from 20-25 when he had Yaad. If you use the maximum ages, and assume Yaad is 15, then Thistle could be as old as 120 (24).

I think a reasonable middle ground is assuming Thistle was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, Delgal had Eodio at 25, Eodio had Yaad at 20, and Yaad is 15... Which would make Thistle 90 (18) years old.

This of course says nothing about Thistle's emotional maturity or sanity, he's obviously stunted in some ways, but the point I want to make here is:

Thistle's age could be anywhere from 14.6 to 24 at the most extreme, but more realistically he's somewhere between 16.6 and 18.

And that's not even counting the thousand years that he's lived since then!

And that's all I've got to say about that 🙏🙏🙏🙏

(EDIT: Follow-up post with additional evidence here.) EDIT 2: I've seen a lot of people talking about the page Kui drew talking about elven earmuffs. It's considered just barely okay for Pattadol to wear them, but it's ok for Thistle to wear them... In which case I'd say Thistle could be any age younger than 83. That's handy as it knocks out some of the older ages!

So in that case Thistle's age is between 73 years old and 82, which makes him developmentally between 14.6 and 16.4!

[phantomyre]

Vincent may be aware of the multiverse

Firstly-- credit to @XTurkValentine (Twitter) who graciously shared this information with us. They connected with mathematicians and asked them to deduce what was written in Vincent's basement, and what they discovered seems to imply something fascinating about Vincent... According to the math professors who studied this image, Vincent used a mixture of several mathematical equations, including the following: Calculus with integrations, differential equations, summation notations, probability, statistics, complex analysis, physics, etc. What's more interesting is that there's evidence of quantum mechanics. For example: ∫f(ϕ(x))dx: represents integrating a function over a space

P(A)=P(B)P(A∣B): describes conditional probabilities of events

In other words-- this all suggests that Vincent is aware of the multiverse as well as how different events are affected by them. His awareness of how the planet functions may even be similarly in tune with what Sephiroth knows. This further implies that there is a small chance Vincent is also aware of Chaos and his ultimate fate when it comes to the planet's function. Granted, he may not have the whole picture as much of that should still be hidden in Lucrecia's missing files. Nevertheless, if all of this tracks, this implies that Vincent may not be quite as oblivious as he was in Dirge of Cerberus.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Daylight |1|

Amber Freeman to Eventual Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter one: It's Nice to Have a Friend

Summary: You are enjoying a pleasant evening with Tara when things escalate for the worse when you answer a phone call from your girlfriend, Amber. There's only one person who can get your day back on track

Warning(s): Swearing, toxic!amber x reader, arguing, & implied anxiety

Notes: first chapter out. finally.

Masterlist|Next Part

You were currently napping at your desk, drool dripping down the side of your mouth as your trigonometry teacher drowned on about—something, you couldn’t really think right now. You were up until three in the morning preparing for your physics exam. You would be risking your spot on the football team if you got anything that wasn’t passing.

So here you were, knocked out in the middle of math, when all of a sudden something smacks the side of your face. It’s enough to get your attention, waking you up before you look around with a puzzled expression. You rubbed your eyes before grabbing the folded piece of paper that had hit you.

you drool when you sleep, the note read. You peaked to your left, glancing at the girl who sat one over from you. A smile began to graze your face when you realized who had thrown you the note. You wrote a reply on the corner of the paper before swiftly passing it back to the girl.

When she looked over to you, you were already looking up ahead as if nothing. She read the note; at least i dont watch people while they’re sleeping creep. She couldn’t help but smirk down at the note, playfully rolling her eyes before ripping off another piece of paper from her notebook to roll into a ball and throw it at you. You narrow your eyes at her but she’s imitating a confused look.

Then the sound of your teacher clearing his throat could be heard. “Ahem. Tara and Y/N, is there something you would like to share?”

You and Tara make eye contact before looking back at the teacher. 

“No, Mr. Quinn,” Tara said before you followed with, “No, sir.”

After a second he nodded, “Alright then—as I was saying.” He turned back around, continuing the lesson. 

When the class was over, Tara walked over as you were packing your things. You could hear her impatience as you did so which caused you to roll your eyes. “You don’t have to wait for me,” you told her while zipping up your bag. 

“And you don’t have to be the slowest person alive, but here we are,��� she countered as you both began to walk out of the classroom.

“Whatever—damn it these halls,” you grunt after somebody slams into you. “We’re doomed if the school’s ever set on fire.”

“I don’t care what the code or whatever is, if the school’s set on fire it’s every student for themselves,” Tara replies.

“You do know that means right?”

“What?” She knitted her eyebrows, looking up at you as the two of you continued to walk in the school’s halls.

“Tiniest people go first,” you answer—immediately making Tara shove your arm.

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed, her dimples showing as she lightly shook her head. Tara’s hand was still gripping your sleeve, an action that neither of you took notice of. She’s been your friend, your best friend, since you were six years old; a bit of physical touch was not uncommon in your friendship, never questioned. 

Both of you were now leaning against a vacant wall, and just as she was about to open her mouth to say something else, another arm slipped around your waist, causing Tara to let go of your arm. It didn’t take long for this person to practically be clinging off of you—her arm around your waist, the index finger of her other hand hooked in one of your belt loops. 

Of course, who else could this person be than none other than your girlfriend; Amber Freeman. 

“Oh, hey Tara. Didn’t see you,” Amber backhandedly greeted without even looking at Tara. Amber had always been passive aggressive towards Tara. The Carpenter couldn’t explain it well if you asked her, but ever since they met—seventh grade—it’s like she has this vendetta against her. You were having lunch with Tara when Amber met you, and it didn’t take long for her to take a liking to you. She had developed a crush on you throughout middle school, it wasn’t until the summer before sophomore year that you and her got together.

And that is how the three of you were now in this hallway, Amber with her arm around your waist, your own arm around her shoulder, while Tara resisted the urge to gag at the PDA.

“I actually have to get going, but I’ll see you later?” Tara says as she starts to make a subtle exit. She no longer saw a reason to stay.

“Of course, see you around,” you send her a smile that she doesn’t hesitate to send back. That was something you could always count on her for. 

Your eyes don’t leave Tara until they lose track of her in the crowded hallway. Just seconds later you felt a tug on your belt loop and you looked down to see Amber.

“Are you coming to the party tonight? Marcy’s throwing it since her parents are out of town for the next few days,” your girlfriend explained. 

“Sorry, can’t tonight. I have to watch my little brother. Some other time?” Your tone was apologetic as you gently rubbed her lower back, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset you couldn’t make it to Marcy’s party. 

“Whatever. It’s fine,” was all she said—her voice monotone and dismissive—while she began to pull away. Your eyebrows furrowed at her actions and a pressure starts to envelop your chest. She started to turn to walk away from you and that’s when you reached for her hands.

“Hey,” you murmured loud enough for her to hear while you turned her back around to face you. “I’ll try and get the next one, okay?” You try to hold eye contact with her but she seems to find the ground more interesting. “I’m sorry, Ambs.” 

She finally looks up, sighing. “It’s okay. Next time.”

“Next time,” you nod as you bite the inside of your cheek.

Amber looked at you, letting out another sigh before saying, “I’m fine, Y/N—really. You’ll get the next one.” That tightening feeling in your chest begins to loosen at her reassurance. “I have to go,” she gives you a kiss, deepening it just before pulling away. “I’ll text you this weekend?”

You hummed in response, and the two of you shared another kiss before you both set off for the day.

After making sure you had everything, you began to walk towards the main entrance—leaving the building before making your way to the spot where you and Tara meet up everyday after school. You always walk home together, pretty much since you first started becoming friends. 

You leaned against the pillar as you waited for Tara; it’s not like you didn’t see her just a few minutes earlier, so she shouldn’t be too long. You look out ahead, blankly staring at the patches of ice that covered the ground; it was windy out, so much in fact you felt as though you couldn’t go without five seconds of blinking or else you would start tearing up. Thank goodness for eyelids—

—“Boo!” You heard someone shout; you immediately jumped back, startled, your hands were raised and ready to swing at whoever or whatever. But any thoughts of fighting vanish when you look over to see the culprit. “Jesus fuck, Tara,” you suspired.

She’s laughing her ass off, both hands over her mouth. You let out a dramatic exhale before saying, “I’m gonna get you for this. Just wait.”

“Oh yeah?” She replied between giggles, “What are you gonna do? Throw a football at me?”

“You’ll see,” you warned while narrowing your eyes at her.

Tara was finally able to get herself to stop laughing. “Of course you will, tough guy.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled as the two of you began to walk. “So, got any plans on this incredibly dull Friday evening?” You inquired while digging through your pocket for your gloves.

“Mmm not really,” Tara answered. Her arms always had a slight sway to them as she walked; it’s something you’ve always noticed, it’s one of the things that’s never changed about her.

“Then are you free to come over? My parents are out of town and I’m still gonna be watching my brother, but he’s probably just gonna be playing video games with his friends the whole time anyway,” you said; your hands were still digging around in your pockets.

“Yeah, I’m down.” Tara looked at you with raised eyebrows before saying, “Um, you looking for something?”

You suddenly groaned when you realized, “Shit. I left my gloves at home.” You roll your eyes at your own forgetfulness before stuffing your hands back in your pockets in an attempt to keep them warm.

“You can take mine,” Tara tells you. Without hesitation, she stops and begins to take off her own gloves but you put your hand over her own to stop her.

“Tara, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine,” you try to reassure her. 

At this point, you both have stopped walking. Tara shook her head at you, “Don’t be so stubborn. Just take them.”

“What about your hands?”

“I’ll survive.”

“Now who’s being stubborn?” Ugh, you were so annoying. How dare you use her own words against her.

“Fine. How about this, you take one glove and I keep the other one.” She looked at the hesitant look on your face before sighing, “If you don’t take it then I’ll just refuse to wear my gloves at all and then we’ll both freeze our hands off.”

“Fine,” you finally gave in, taking the other glove from Tara and putting it on. You slipped on only half of the glove before you realized something. “Wait. You don’t have pockets.” 

“Okay?” Tara looked at you confused.

“Where are you gonna put your ungloved hand?”

“Oh my God, I’ll be okay. I have—”

“—Warm blood? Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” you chuckled. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tara asked in a defensive tone.

“You said the same thing when we went to see No Way Home but all I could hear was your teeth clattering.”

“That is not true!”

“People complained!”

After a few moments of silence of seeing who would break first, you finally spoke up. “Okay. How about this, you use one of my pockets. Deal?”

“It’s not that deep,” Tara protested.

“...Deal?”

Tara rolled her eyes, shutting them as she sighed before looking at you again. “Deal.”

She got closer to you before you wrapped your arm around her, giving her right hand access to your right pocket. A smile grazed your face, “See now was that so hard, shortstack?” You teased as you lightly noogied her with your free hand. 

“You are such an ass and a half for that,” you heard her bitterly say.

“Yet you stay,” you said as you were both turning the corner to where your house was.

“I should’ve left you on that street corner where you were standing.”

“But you didn’t,” you remark while getting your key out of your pocket.

“Just shut up and open the door. It’s freezing and my feet still hurt from gym,” Tara complained, never dropping her hand from your pocket.

“Oh? I thought you were—what was it? ‘Warm blooded’ you said?” You smirked, beginning to turn the front door’s lock with your key. Tara started shoving you as soon as you unlocked the door.

“Hush,” she scolded you while taking off her shoes.

“No need to shove.” You kick off your shoes before placing them to the side. You and Tara make your way to the kitchen, placing your stuff down on the way in.

“Your parents already left?” Tara asked as you rummaged through your refrigerator.

“Yeah, they had to go to some funeral. Nobody I was close with though—I think it was a distant uncle,” you filled her in as you gave her one of the gatorades you pulled out of the fridge. “They should be back by tomorrow night,” you continued.

“And I’m assuming that’s your brother upstairs?”

Your little brother and his friends were currently yelling at each other over voice chat, you weren’t really sure what about but you knew it was video game related.

“Of course,” you said after taking a sip of your own gatorade, “Wanna head to my room or the basement?”

“Either’s fine, I’m honestly just beat. Anywhere I can lay down I’m totally open to,” Tara said while stretching out her arms.

“My room it is.”

—

“So,” Tara started; you were both on your bed, her legs on your lap as you both watched a show on your laptop, “what did the ice queen want when I left earlier?” The use of the nickname Tara had for Amber caused you to glance at her.

“Tara,” you said, giving her a look that matched your scolding tone. She mumbled something under her breath before you continued. “She just wanted to know if I could make it to a party tonight. I just said I couldn’t, and that was that.”

“Ah,” she replied in a monotone voice.

“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, that was just a normal ‘ah.’”

“If you say so…” You both turn back to screen, Tara reaches over you to grab one of the snacks before you feel a buzz in your pocket; you looked down to see you got a message from Mindy.

“Who is it?” asked Tara, followed by her shoving a few gummy bears in her mouth.

“Your sister,” you replied without hesitation as you typed. 

She shoved you with her foot, glaring at you for your comment.

“Nah, just Mindy asking if I’ll be at the party—oh, and apparently Wes too.” Tara immediately grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved her face against it, her loud groaning muffled. You laughed at her actions before continuing, “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Maybe he really is just curi—nevermind, I can’t even lie.” 

She let out an even louder groan. After a few more seconds, she finally picked up her head as she sighed. 

“We dated for like five minutes. That’s it.”

“You can’t blame the boy for being so obsessed with you. I mean, look at that face,” you teased as you pinched her cheeks. She rolled her eyes, harshly letting her head fall against your bed’s headboard. 

“Ow,” she winced. 

“14 year-old you just had to be polite,” you said while also moving your head to rest against your bed’s headboard. You tilted your head to face her, now looking at each other as you slipped your phone back into your pocket.

“That isn’t …exactly what happened,” her eyes trailed down to her lap.

“It’s exactly what happened. You would’ve felt too guilty to say no because his pet hamster had just died.”

“Ugh.”

“How come you’re never that nice to me?” You feigned a pout while reaching for your phone that was now vibrating in your back pocket. “Uh. I gotta take this. Gimme a sec.”

Tara didn’t have to ask who it was. She already knew from the shift in your demeanor and attitude.

“Hey…” Tara heard you trail off as you left the room. You closed the door, going off to the side and leaning against the wall.

“Hey.” Amber’s greeting was curt and monotone. Nothing good could come from whatever she was about to say next. 

“What’s up babe?” You hoped that your voice didn’t show how nervous you were.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me. What is this I’m hearing about you and Anika?” Shit. You know you should’ve told her sooner, you still would’ve gotten heat for it but at least it would’ve came from you and not a gossiping cheerleader just trying to stir up trouble.

“It’s nothing bad—I just need some help in physics and she agreed to tutor me,” you tried to explain as straight-forward as you could. 

“How do you conveniently fail to mention this? We saw each other not long ago, yeah? So how come I have to hear about this from Daphne?” 

“There’s nothing else going on other than studying. She just—”

“She just what?!”

“She just offered! She overheard me talking to Chad about needing to get my grade up!” 

“Yeah right, Y/N! Everyone knows she has a thing for you, don’t be so naive,” she scolded as if you were a troublesome child. “I bet this is why you didn’t want to come to the party tonight.”

“Are you kidding? I told you, I have to watch my brother tonight. And Anika does not have a thing for me. Why can’t people just be nice to me without you freaking out?” Now you were pacing back and forth.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to freak out if you would just tell me these things beforehand!” She shouted.

A familiar tightness in your chest grew with each word she threw at you, and your tongue felt as though it was glued to the roof of your mouth. What could you possibly say when you knew it wouldn’t suffice? You knew nothing you said would matter. You knew she wouldn’t have any of it.

“And you fail to notice half the school wants you—but once again, you’re just being naive! But I’m just your lame girlfriend, right? I don’t matter?”

You manage a scoff at her words. “Who—when did I say that?”

“Yeah go ahead, act like I’m insane. That I’m just making it all up in my head,” Amber went on as you rubbed the bridge of your nose. 

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m sorry, I just—”

“So you’re saying I’m not making this all up in my head? That I should worry about this?” This remark only made you even more exasperated from how insane it all sounded. This is insane, right? You’re not losing it? There really is no winning with this woman. 

“What? No! Of course not. Please just tell me what the right thing to say is.”

Then there was a pause that lasted a little over five seconds, but it felt longer. After the pause, you could hear Amber sigh over the phone. “I just need space right now.”

“I feel like… I feel like you always need space,” you confessed, aggravation at the tip of your voice. 

“Have you ever considered this is why? Maybe I wouldn’t need so much space if you would actually learn to listen to me for once,” she sourly shot back. Although she was no longer shouting, you could feel her burning frustration through the phone. You were all too familiar with her pattern of emotions when it came to disagreements with her. 

“I am listening but—”

“Clearly you’re not if there’s a ‘but’ to that.” Amber let out a dry laugh. “This is exactly why I need space; why we need space. When you wanna start acting like my girlfriend—you know where to reach me.”

She didn’t give you a chance to plead your case any further, hanging up the phone just as she spoke her last words.

You let your head hit the nearby wall as you slumped down to sit on the floor, groaning out. You tucked in your knees close to your chest before dropping your head to rest on them.

God, how could you be so stupid? You should know better by now—right? It’s not like you haven't had the same argument with Amber over and over again. It was routine at this point. Literally all your fights go about the same. 

You picked at your jeans, silently murmuring to yourself as you replayed the argument in your head. 

“Fine. Take your space. I don’t care.” Your chin rested on your free arm that laid on your knees as your other free hand continued to pick at your pants. “Are people not allowed to be nice to me? I don’t say anything when she studies with other people. What’s so different about me? I’ve never given her a reason to think otherwise…” 

Just then, the door opened. You looked over to your right, completely forgetting you were just outside your bedroom door. You looked up to see Tara staring down at you as she leaned against the door frame.

“Hey,” she greeted, walking over to sit in the vacant spot next to you on the floor. 

“Hi.” 

"Talking to yourself?" She quipped, jokingly, as a way to lighten the mood.

"You know me," you said. But Tara saw through to your thrown attitude.

“You okay?” She asked once she sat down.

“I’m… alright.” You responded, now looking at her. “Just the usual, you know.” There was a pause and a look that Tara was giving; you broke, sighing as you stared back down to your own fingers before speaking again. “She, uh, found out about Anika tutoring me. I guess she’s not Anika’s biggest fan or something.”

Tara knew she should comfort you. No matter how much she wanted to tell you that Amber was terrible, no good, and a bitch, she knew that would do no good. Reassurance was the way to go in these situations with Amber, no matter how much she hated the taste of her own words. “She’ll come around. She always does.” 

“Thanks…” 

A moment of silence passes before Tara gets up from her spot, your eyes tracking her movement. She reaches her hand out for you to grab before saying, “Come on, let’s play Mortal Combat or something. I’m bored and feel like showing off.”

You laughed as you took her hand and stood up. When you stood up, your fingers interlocked with hers, almost like puzzle pieces. She rubbed her thumb over your hand for extra measure. A sense of warmth flew through you and the tension in your shoulders start to release.

"Thank you, Tara."

-----------

A/N: drama, commence

Taglist: @alyciaddict @tropicals-things @orignalpat @lilbitdepressed27 @nahnahnahwhat @fanboy7794

[sutorus]

BUY ONE GET ONE FREE

DESCRIPTION: gojo satoru and geto suguru are the jewels of your university. glued at the hip, you have your eyes set on one of the best friends, but you should already know to expect double the trouble with this packaged deal.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader

WC: 3.8k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, some derogatory terms like s!ut :c), university!au, frat!au, characters are in their 20s, oral (fem receiving), gojo is a douche (sorry!) with a soft spot for you, gojo and geto are both taller than reader, gojo wants you sooo bad you don’t even know, dubcon if you squint, annoyances to… something else!, implied 3sum but that’s for part 2 ig bc i got tired. enjoy!

A/N: first fic here yayyyy pls support (kiss kiss

they were those boys in your campus. every university had them, or so you’re told. the ones to be proud of, but also weary of. the ones who could show you a good time you’d probably regret the next morning. the ones you’d tell stories about and never really forget.

at your school, that was geto suguru and gojo satoru. you heard they knew each other since high school, best friends back then and best friends now. they were part of the most infamous party house, the most awarded college teams, the most scandalous groupchats, the most torrid bathroom stalls conversations. everybody knew them, every guy wanted to be them, every girl wanted to be with them. you know the drill.

and although this was only your second year, you’d had enough run-ins with them to know exactly what they wanted — and what you wanted, too.

the two were truly inseparable despite not being all that similar, just like brothers. considering the stories you’ve heard, that proximity would be almost weird if they weren’t so hot. but that’s a can of worms you don’t want to open and, most importantly, don’t need to open in order to sit on geto suguru’s dick.

because of course it’s geto. 

sure, gojo is hot — in a really fucking annoying way. in a way that makes you want to slap that stupid grin off his face every time he ogles you and your friends at a party. you’d go for it, really, if you didn’t have to live to see the next day. you knew gojo would never let you act like it never happened, and not in a romantic way, but in a disgusting braggy way. 

gojo satoru is hot as fuck but you’re not built to handle him, if you’re being honest. not innocent enough, not devoted enough, not googly-eyed and pink-glossy-lips-drooly enough. gojo satoru was complicated like that. he came with a warning label as big as a cvs receipt in which big bold red letters warned DO NOT TRUST. and you knew better, anyway. 

but geto? geto was pretty much perfect. his looks were sweet, dark and kind of edgy, like a black kitty with really sharp teeth. he had really cute fuck me eyes and really big veiny hands and a really cool manbun and you wanted to sit your ass on his fat sick. it was simple math. 

the only thing that preoccupied you, though, was his reputation. and not his manwhore reputation or his party animal reputation or his fucks-hard-and-doesn’t-cuddle-after reputation — no, who cares about that. what worried you was his reputation with his best friend gojo satoru. 

ever since you enrolled at your university you’ve been hearing rumors. apparently, the two of them were so close that they shared everything. everything. 

would never let a brother go hungry and all. 

so yes, there was the slight possibility (only corroborated by, i don’t know, the hundreds of girls you’ve heard the same story from) that geto would want a threeway. 

you, having sex with gojo satoru? you can’t say you’ve never thought about it. you did have that one class together, your freshman year. in retrospect, the fact that he was your senior and taking the same elective as you should’ve been enough of a red flag. 

by the end of the first lesson he came up to you and told you to text him if you ever needed any materials for the class, almost sounding sincere before shrugging and saying, “i’m just on top of things. by the way, would you like to be one of them?”

and scene. 

that was your first impression of gojo satoru. 

if you two fucked a year after that initial offer of his, would it be comical or tragic? he’d never look at you the same way — that is, he’d stop looking at you like he can see your tits through your shirt with x-ray vision and start looking at you like he has seen your tits because he will have. and that sounds annoying. 

but whatever. you’ve heard the stories of how gojo fucks, after all. it’s not like it would be a bad time. 

and tonight seems like the perfect night to make a stupid decision like that because geto looks so fucking delicious in a hawaiian shirt (how is that even possible?) leaning against his yucky frat’s wall and sipping a beer. 

god, you want to bite him. is that weird?

“is that weird?” you turn to shoko, who so kindly accompanied you to another house party with the promise of free, gojo-sponsored liquor. “i want to bite geto.”

shoko looks disgusted, all too acquainted with your ramblings about the guy. her eyes scan around the room before settling towards the kitchen. “i’ll leave you to it, then, and go get a drink. do not abandon me until i’m drunk enough to be by myself in this shithole.”

you nod to her before she’s off to get her fix. and you’re gearing up to get yours, adjusting your skirt and correcting your posture until a too familiar, grating voice yells out from behind you:

“yo!” 

you sigh, rolling your eyes before turning around. 

“gojo.”

he throws one of his long arms over your shoulders, pressing your sides together. your fingers absentmindedly go back to your skirt, pulling it down. 

gojo has to lean down to talk to you, his face hovering over yours. you can feel how hot his torso is against you, his white shirt already completely unbuttoned. it sends a shiver down your spine. 

“long time no see, cutie,” gojo’s breath is warm against your ear, his voice high to be heard over the music. he gestures with his solo cup, “how are you finding the facility?”

you look up and give him a tight smile. “gross as always! is there something you want, or…”

he laughs heartily, and you feel his whole body rattle against yours. you huff in annoyance, antsy to get a word in with geto before he’s occupied. 

“so mean to me!” he looks down at you and if it weren’t for his sunglasses, that he wears indoors at nighttime like a dick, you’d be able to see his eyes looking right down your cleavage. “just when i was coming here to do you a favor.”

you can’t help but laugh at that. 

“what in the world could you possibly do for me?” he lifts an eyebrow and your finger flies up in between your faces. “don’t answer that, actually.”

“i came here to tell you a very interesting secret,” he sing songs right into the shell of your ear, earning another shiver from you. you take the cup from his hand and sip, too distracted to know what it tastes like. nibbling on the plastic rim, you gesture for him to go on. 

gojo’s smile grows that much darker, that much more sinister, a dimple appearing on the side of his cheek. 

“a little birdie told me suguru’s dying to screw you tonight.”

your demeanor must visibly brighten at that information because gojo lets out another lurching laugh. your eyes instinctively zero in on geto, across from you, who’s either doing a really good job of pretending he doesn’t hear the two you talking in the doorway or is genuinely clueless as to what his best friend is saying about him. 

you force yourself to regain your composure, shoving gojo’s solo cup into his bare chest and wiggling out of his hold. “and you care because?”

but you suspect you already know the answer to that. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, and god, your height difference is kind of reeling. 

“like i said, ‘s just a favor,” you eye him suspiciously. he continues, “he wants to fuck you, you want to fuck him. i’m just being a nice guy.”

right. nice guy. 

“and who says i want to fuck him?” you try to play it cool, even though you probably know as much as satoru knows as much as suguru knows that you’d crawl on your knees towards geto right now if that meant you could put his cock in your mouth. 

and who could blame you? 

“playing dumb?” gojo pokes your cheek. his voice grows thicker, “cute. look at you,” and he does, hungrily, eyes scanning your entire form and making you feel oddly self conscious. 

he snakes a hand around your waist and leans in close again, whispering into your ear, “all dolled up just for him. in class with me you show up in other dudes’ hoodies but for darling suguru you dress slutty. everyone knows.”

you inhale sharply. what is he playing at? is he trying to get into your head or what? people dress up at parties, people want to fuck people, it’s a thing. god, gojo is so unbearable. 

you scowl up at him. 

“first of all,” you rip his hand from your waist and he lets it fall limply by his side. “second of all, again, how is that any of your business? salty you can’t get laid without the hotter best friend’s help?”

gojo just smirks, huffing out a chuckle through his nostrils. “you don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart. although i have to say, i do worry about you…”

“what? why?” you can’t help sounding sincere at his words. he twirls a piece of your hair with his index finger. 

“‘m just saying, what kind of best friend would i be if i handed you off to suguru without taking you for a test drive first?” gojo’s disgusting, he’s audacious and cocky and it’s doing something to you. you find yourself uncharacteristically quiet as he continues, “i mean, for all i know, you just might break once he gets inside.” 

“you’re ridiculous,” you manage to utter, feeling too small and too warm. geto is no longer in your line of sight and neither is shoko and you rapidly start to feel like you’ve fallen into the lion’s den without realizing. 

“you know i’m right,” and you don’t, really, you don’t think he’s right at all but why do you want to prove him wrong so badly? “c’mon, baby, lemme break ya in a little.”

that seems to snap you out of it. “ew. you’re disgusting, where is—“

“ugh, i love it when you degrade me,” he groans sardonically, hand leaving your waist and grabbing your hand instead. “come on. i’ll take you to him.”

whatever that feeling was just then, you shake it off and relunctantly let gojo guide you through the sea of bodies in his living room, the two of you earning some whistles from his friends. eyes too busy scanning for geto, you’re surprised when you suddenly end up in front of the bathroom. 

“quick pit stop!” gojo tries. you roll your eyes. 

“you won’t even try to take me to your bed? like, you live here,” you say. 

gojo is grinning. “nah, nah. room’s for the main attraction,” he winks and turns the doorknob, letting you go inside first. what a gentleman. “this shouldn’t take long.”

the bathroom door muffles the loud music outside, leaving your ears ringing in the silence. gojo looks like a douchebag, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, shirt unbuttoned and wet with some sort of liquor, and your eyes do not dare scan any lower than that. 

you suppose he is a douchebag.

but he sounds so painfully sincere when he whines low in his throat, “wanna kiss you so bad.” 

you laugh at his face, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter. 

“i’m serious,” he says, taking a step forward. you instinctively open your legs a little to make more room. 

“you want to what, ‘break me in’, you said?”

gojo laughs and that doesn’t sound sincere at all. he takes another step towards you, slotting his hips in between your thighs. 

“suguru’ll like it sloppy,” and that’s all the explanation he gives you before he’s closing the distance between you two, crashing your lips together. 

you should be feeling ill at his words. you should be pushing him away. if you had any self respect, you would. 

but his hands on you feel so good, he’s kissing you like, yeah, he wanted to so bad. his grip on your hips is almost bruising, pulling your body closer to his so he can grind against you. 

you moan into his mouth and he’s quick to return it, tongue pushing up against yours hungrily. you feel like you’re being devoured, the kiss all encompassing, but it’s not bad, it feels so so good and gojo is so good and—

he breaks your kiss to command, “wrap your legs around me,” and you do so immediately. 

his hands push your skirt up, grabbing your ass and pulling you that much closer to him. you tug on his hair, grinding down hard against him, and he lets out the sweetest, most pitiful moan that sends your head reeling. 

“gojo…” you say his name but you don’t know what for, don’t know what you want or what to ask or what to say, all you know is yes and good and more. “satoru—“

gojo whines and presses his lips to yours desperately, grinding his hard on against your clothed pussy. he’s big, you can feel him all over your cunt, and you suddenly need all these layers between you gone. 

“fuck, let me see,” he swallows hard, pushing your shirt up fully. “lemme see those tits baby, that’s it—”

you puff your chest out when gojo pulls your bra down. you expect him to go for your boobs but instead he goes back in for a kiss, panting into your mouth. 

god, it’s too much. for how collected he acts one hundred percent of the time, seeing gojo satoru disheveled is a power trip. 

“touch me,” you mumble against his lips. 

he gives you a few pecks, nibbling your bottom lip before pulling away. 

“fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” gojo says, one hand grabbing your tit and another pulling your panties to the side. the cool air on your dripping core makes you shudder, and you feel yourself gush at the slightest brush of his fingers against you. 

he bends down to pop a nipple into his mouth and you arch your back, gripping his hair hard, ‘cause apparently he likes that. you both let out a unison moan as he sucks, saliva audibly swishing inside his mouth. 

you know it’s gonna leave a mark, he’s gonna leave a lot of bruises as he bites and sucks and keeps you distracted while he slips a finger into your wet core. 

you suddenly regain conscience and remember the man working your body with nothing more than his hands and mouth probably has a pretty painful big hard cock inside his pants, so you reach out to help him. 

“wait,” he says, mouth popping against your breast, “wait, you can suck it, i just wanna—i gotta do this first, lemme—“

that’s all he says before giving you another kiss and dropping to his knees. 

you’re obviously not going to complain, you can neglect his dick just fine, nevermind the fact that you want it inside you immediately. but in the meantime, gojo’s got two fingers pumping in and out of you and he’s about to put his face between your legs. 

it’s beautiful, it’s a lot, you want it so fucking bad and it shows. 

“so fucking wet, all f’me” he lays his tongue flat against your clit and licks a fat stripe up your pussy, making you groan in anticipation for what’s to come. “been thinking of this pretty pussy for so long.”

“yeah?,” you whine, brushing some hair away from his face before coaxing his head closer to where you want it. gojo moans in response and starts working his tongue in tight circles over your clit. 

fuck, is gojo satoru in a frat bathroom the best head you’ve ever had? he might be, with the way he expertly rubs his fingers against your walls, instantly finding that spongy patch that makes you jut your hips out. 

“fuck, right there,” you grind against his face, delighting yourself in the debauched moans he makes against your cunt. not only does it feel good, it looks so fucking hot and you can’t tear your eyes away. “stay right there, you’re so good.”

the way he eats it like he needs to, like it’ll save your life, like this alone is enough to make the both of you cum, you can’t help the too-honest praise tumbling from your lips. 

“yeah? tastes so fucking good” he mumbles, rubbing a thumb over your clit. you nod, bottom lip held tightly between your teeth. “play with your tits, baby, those juicy fucking tits, do it for me.”

you obey, head hanging back in pleasure. you keep one hand anchored firmly in his hair, your fingers gripping so hard they start to tingle. 

you shove his face closer, earning a deep groan from him. he noses at your pussy, replacing his fingers in your entrance with his tongue, fucking in and out of you. your breathing has lost all rhythm, your chest feels tight and on fire and a bead of sweat rolls down your back. 

you can faintly make out gojo asking do you like this? just like this baby? and all you can say in response is a string of “yeahs” and breathy little moans. they almost sound surprised, and they might be, because every twist of his tongue and every brush of his fingers knocks the breath right out your lungs. 

it’s so much pleasure that it doesn’t make sense. you think, suddenly, this is why people do drugs, this is why people develop addictions because you have no fucking clue how you’re supposed to live without gojo satoru between your legs from now on. 

“satoru. i wanna cum,” you whine, mind to mouth filter completely obliterated because all you want to do is fucking cum for gojo satoru. message relayed. 

“fuck yeah, baby, you wanna cum? i’m gonna make you cum?” he’d sound pathetic if you didn’t know how much of a whore he was. his fingers go back inside you and speed up ever so slightly, his lips wrapping around your clit. gojo’s tongue works you over and over and over and all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the sound of gojo swallowing every few seconds. 

he doesn’t stop, mumbles his dirty talk right into your pussy, like fucking cum for me baby cum all over my face yeah do it i’m gonna make you cum so hard god you look so fucking sexy wanna fuck you so bad, and you don’t want to know why but it makes you all the more intent in coming the hardest you ever have. 

you grip gojo’s hair and grind into his face mercilessly, revelling in the gurgling sounds coming from between your legs. 

“ohhh fuck, fuck, satoru i’m so close, just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“ gojo groans, using his free hand to play with your nipple. 

it’s too much, it’s too good, the coil in your belly that’s been building up since you started entertaining the idea of maybe getting laid tonight finally snapping. 

you’re sure you’ve never been this loud as you cum, hard, you can feel it gushing out of you and right into gojo’s awaiting mouth. with ringing ears and trembling legs, you find purchase in his hair as you keep cumming for him. 

the muscles on your thighs seize up as you ride out your orgasm against gojo’s face, your feet trying to find any sort of balance or solid ground. but you wiggle desperately in his hold, the man below you fulfilling his promise of drinking every last drop of you until the two of you are satisfied. 

you’re catching your breath when gojo finally pulls away from you, his face and neck flushed as you’re sure yours are. your back falls against the foggy bathroom mirror, chest rising and falling dramatically as you catch your breath. 

he finally stands up, sneaking a very obvious hand down his pants to readjust his erection. once he catches your gaze, he smirks at you. 

you try to roll your eyes, you really do, but what comes out is a slow, languid blink. you’re completely fucked out and he loves it, leans in to kiss you so fucking deep you taste yourself all over his mouth.  

before you can do anything else, anything more or less than kiss him back, you hear three knocks on the door. 

they’re gentle, nothing like the sound of a pissed off college student, murderous because you’re hogging the bathroom. 

gojo pushes himself away from you, grinning. “right on time.”

he grabs both your tits in his hands and plants a wet kiss on one, then the other, before pulling your shirt back down. 

you’re still dumbfounded, your overworked body slumped against the bathroom counter. 

before you have time to react, gojo’s opening the door to let geto suguru in. 

your body jolts, legs closing shut in what’s almost abject horror. you nearly forgot he’s what you came to this party for. 

it feels like you got caught red handed, and it must show on your face because geto shakes his head and laughs that pretty, sexy laugh, waving a hand around to tell you it’s okay. 

“please, don’t stop on my account,” are his first words to you tonight. 

you would say something if you weren’t sure your voice would fail you. but like usual, gojo satoru can’t stay quiet for too long.

“all done. she’s too easy” he announces cheerily, but the funny thing is, he doesn’t leave. instead, geto lets the bathroom door close behind him as he crowds in. 

you realize this space is far too small for two very tall men, most definitely far too small for whatever is about to go down between the three of you, and your calming heart starts to race again. 

“hey, pretty,” geto reaches out and wipes the side of your lip. “having fun?”

you can only nod, looking at gojo satoru of all people for answers.

he looks at you like he hasn’t just eaten your pussy with the intensity of a starving man, like he wants to do it again, right now. 

geto is sporting a similar look of hunger, looking between you and gojo and quickly assessing the situation that just happened here. 

this is weird. this is so fucking weird and so stupidly hot. 

“wanna take her for a ride next?” gojo asks geto like he’s not talking about a person, like you don’t have a say in it, like you belong to the both of them to play with, and it turns your brain to mush. 

geto smiles, handsome and dangerous. 

“what do you say, honey?” this time he addresses you. you swallow hard, looking between the two men in front of you. gojo grabs the outline of his hard cock through his pants, a reminder that whatever this is, it isn’t over just yet. “down to have double the fun?”