#th: codependence

[tyrannuspitch]

but it's so fucked up. genuinely. so fucked up. what if you had a brother almost exactly the same age as you. maybe not precisely a twin, but close. and there were only two of you, and you were princes, so he was (theoretically) your one and only peer. he was how you learnt to interact with other people, and he was your childhood best friend, and he was the only one who understood your growing responsibilities as you got older, and your political futures were tied together. but the entire time it was subtly but undeniably clear that you were NOT peers or equals. he outranked you. he had authority over you. he could threaten you and you couldn't respond in kind. he could give you orders and expect you to obey. you were beneath him and if you got too far above your station he could remind you of exactly how far. and this was NORMAL. it was so fundamental that you would struggle to even recognise or name what was hurting you, and if you did, you would feel guilty for challenging it, because your rank was not just a fact, it was an obligation, and defiance wasn't just doomed, it was treacherous. and you couldn't imagine any relationship where a dynamic like this didn't exist. you didn't BELIEVE there was any alternative. AND. your brother wasn't trying to be cruel. it was normal to him too. he couldn't imagine an alternative either. he loved you. he was trying to protect you. he was trying not to lose you. so how could you ever really try to escape. if this was all you could imagine love being then it was this or nothing. and was this really worse than him leaving you behind

[skunkes]

x

[waitineedaname]

absolutely fucked up thinking about how both jiang cheng and jiang yanli have codependent abandonment issues and their worst fears are their family falling apart and being left behind, and what does wei wuxian do? he fucking leaves

[skelkankaos]

me, forgetting the fact that most romantic couples dream of living together for some reason: i hope the economy gets better so people don't have to live with their partners anymore

[moodstabilizers]

day twenty in rehab and i may be on to something here. we’re getting somewhere, guys

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 3)

Part one

Part two

There's SO MUCH excellent meta out there right now, and I'm going to try not to reinvent the wheel too much, but I want to keep going with tying the episodes/ elements up together because on first watch it wasn't entirely clear how everything fit. I also strongly recommend a rewatch, no matter what you felt about the ending... if you need to stop it 10 minutes early, do that, but you pick up so much more the second time around.

So: Maggie and Nina. I spent most of my first watch wondering why we were bothering with them, honestly. Later in the season Nina, and then Maggie and Nina, gave Crowley some insightful advice, but their actual relationship didn't progress despite all the meddling, and the amount of emotional investment BOTH Aziraphale and Crowley had in making them get together was frankly strange.

I started thinking in terms of mirror couples, since that was such a big deal in S1 and that's clearly what they were set up to be, but I made the mistake that all of us made on first watch: that Nina was Crowley and Maggie was Aziraphale. It still wasn't really coming together.

Then I put the psych hat back on and started to think about displacement. Displacement is a defense mechanism, and it consists of satisfying an impulse (usually an unconscious one) with a substitute object. At the beginning of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't really in a good place, and I think on some level they know that. Aziraphale is trying to SHOW Crowley that he wants to take the next step through all the casual touches and phone calls and inviting him in, and feeling frustrated because Crowley doesn't seem to be taking the bait. (I absolutely think that Aziraphale tried to get Crowley to stay with him at the bookshop instead of living in his CAR, and Crowley said no. That's a whole other meta.) Meanwhile, Crowley, I think, is waiting for a Grand Gesture. Where did he go, as soon as Aziraphale brought up trying to get two humans to fall in love? Romantic tropes. Getting caught in the rain under an awning. A dramatic kiss that opens someone's eyes. That's the sort of thing he's always done, right? Big rescues, impassioned pleas on the street, fancy dinners, "give you a lift anywhere you want to go". He's defensive and guarded and unlikely to let someone in unless he's CERTAIN he won't be rejected, and Aziraphale's approaches are just too... quiet. No one's fault, they just don't speak the same language.

Then, they're handed the opportunity to make two humans fall in love, and they're both All In immediately. Look at Crowley's face when he summons the rainstorm. This is HUGE for him. Why? Because of displacement. Look at Aziraphale arranging the ball and being borderline deranged about it. They're both desperate to demonstrate what they think it takes for two people to move past their misunderstandings and fall in love. They can't do it for each other because the stakes are too high, and if either of them shows their cards unequivocally the vulnerability feels life-shattering. They're codependent and terrified of rejection and also, importantly, have no idea what they're doing when it comes to love. "Saw it in a film", Crowley says. Aziraphale's read about it in books. But they have zero practical experience.

Instead of learning to communicate, they try to say what they want to say through the medium of Maggie and Nina, up to and including the questionable moral decision to exert control over people's actions and thoughts during the ball. If I can just make this come out right, they both think, then things between us will be alright too. It HAS to come out right. They're attempting to gain some control over their own lives, over something that feels so overwhelming and shattering they can't look directly at it.

It doesn't come out right. Nina's relationship falls apart, but that doesn't mean she's in love with Maggie. While Crowley's stress-cleaning the bookshop to the music that played when Aziraphale got his books back in 1941 (just fuck me up David Arnold), they come in and tell him so. "I don't understand", says Crowley. Because it should have worked. Why didn't it work?

They tell him, of course. "You need to talk to each other. Say what you're really thinking." But here's the thing about communication: you have to learn it. You need to get the hang of expressing your feelings without blaming your partner, and separating intent from impact, and staying away from getting defensive and lashing out. No one has ever taught Aziraphale and Crowley how to do this. It's like Maggie and Nina put Crowley in front of a loom and asked him to recreate the Bayeux Tapestry. He doesn't have the skills; he's always going to get it wrong, even if he tries his hardest.

And he does try. But that's where Maggie and Nina the mirror couple, rather than Maggie and Nina the displacement relationship or Maggie and Nina the Greek chorus, come in. Aziraphale, as Nina, has just ended an incredibly toxic, invasive relationship with Heaven. A relationship that invaded every facet of his life, isolated him, and prevented him from being close to anyone else. "Rebound mess," Nina says. Aziraphale is a rebound mess. He's transferred the responsibility for his emotional wellness to Crowley. Crowley is the person he calls when he's in trouble, or (and this is key) when he wants to report a clever/ good thing he's done, or when he's bored. (At no point did Crowley reference Aziraphale calling him for a solicitous reason-- another problem.) Crowley is meant to take care of him. He forgets, I think, that Crowley is a person with his own wants and needs, just like Maggie and Nina are people with their own wants and needs who don't appreciate being messed with. (I think things would have been much different had Aziraphale BEEN THERE for Maggie and Nina's talk with Crowley, but he wasn't.)

And Maggie-as-Crowley? Lonely. Behind on rent, at risk of being evicted (it's important to note that Aziraphale saves Maggie from losing her record shop, as he couldn't save Crowley from losing his flat). Pining. Awkward. Revolving around Nina like a planet, to the extent that we don't get much of an impression of her otherwise. They realize, there at the end, that they both need to round themselves out before jumping into a relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley need that too. They need to take time apart and learn to be healthy on their own. Unfortunately they don't have the skills to get to that conclusion in a healthy way, so it all explodes in their faces and everything falls apart.

Aziraphale tries to teach Nina and Maggie to dance as a substitute for communication. Nina and Maggie try to teach Crowley communication as a substitute for the dance they've been doing around each other. That's the reason they're a part of the plot: they exist to demonstrate the way Aziraphale and Crowley might have succeeded in forging a better dynamic. Sadly, the boys' dance is too practiced and they got sucked right back into it.

It's okay, I think, that Nina and Maggie's storyline never really went anywhere. It wasn't supposed to. It's an allegory, not something that needs to stand alone.

[halalmovienight]

maybe this will be dickish to say but if you fucking rely all your happiness on one person and try to kill yourself in the chance tht they left you... pls seek fucking help lol

[deeply-embarrassing]

Over-analyzing Shauna's teenage room

Set design has a ton of purpose on yj so let's go! A messy bedroom for a very messy girl!

So first and foremost, of course, the jackieshauna of it all.

• The wallpaper: it's full of poppies, Jackie's favorite flowers. Jackie was the wallpaper of Shauna's entire life, surrounding her. Despite being a very obnoxious wallpaper, which might be to the taste of a child but not of most teenagers, Shauna hadn't redecorated. Shauna seemed to be allowed to do whatever she wanted with her space, so it's interesting that she kept this wallpaper. But also, poppies might have become Jackie's favorite flowers just because they were in Shauna's room. So who started the poppies thing? Where do Jackie and Shauna end and begin...

• Diverse posters taking up a lot of space: Shauna's trying to cover this wallpaper, aka to build her own identity, to express herself. And if Jackie didn't start the whole poppies thing, then it's just Shauna baring her soul to the world. It contrasts with the mostly neutral decorations in Shauna's future house: though many items have hidden meaning, it's all very symbolic and rather discrete.

• The pictures of Jackie / herself with Jackie: it's neat that the large majority of these pictures are on her mirror. These are what Shauna saw each morning: she saw not only herself, but also Jackie, and herself next to Jackie. (And I mean, the shots of Shauna's mirror only showed Jackie's reflection... The identity issues...)

Overall, Shauna seemed to enjoy/need visual reminders of who and what she loves. She put up several pictures of herself, too. A lot changed later on.

• The conjoined marmots (?) facing away from each other: codependency, toxicity, jackieshauna

• Dancers at the Barre by Degas: there's a similar poster in Jackie's bedroom, which I didn't manage to identify!

At first, it's a bit disturbing that Shauna's poster featured two dancers (despite how lonely she felt), while Jackie's only portrayed one (despite perceiving "herself and Shauna" as an inseperable item). It feels as though it should be the other way around. But these aren't something you'd put up as teenagers! They were bought as children, with/by their parents. So, to me, these don't inform us about Jackie and Shauna's relationship, but about the environment they grew up in, and the people they were encouraged to be.

Child Shauna could clearly express herself, her interests, her friendships. Her family couldn't buy an expensive frame, or/and considered that nothing about her had to be set in stone. Meanwhile, child Jackie was meant to be a lonely, pretty performer enclosed in glass. Everything in her room was in order, expensive and perfect. So false and lonely.

• Which leads to Shauna's blurry, blink-and-you'll-miss-it "performance between two dancers" poster: no words, especially if you consider the posters above?? Both dancers are clearly wearing the same blue tutus, they're most probably female dancers, but it's unclear whether they're embracing, kissing, or just dancing together. Very blatant homoeroticism, but so easy to miss, only seen behind Jackie. I haven't managed to find the original art, please please please hit me up if you did!!

• Which now brings me to the large amount of rainbow stuff: homosexuality.

However, displaying such obviously gay items (including the poster just above) isn't something a closeted teen would do. It reinforces my belief that Shauna truly thought she was straight. Still, these were meant to make us wonder about Shauna's sexuality: the scarf is hard to miss, even for a casual viewer. Maybe it was a misdirect, maybe it wasn't.

• Le Frou-Frou by Lucien-Henri Weil: only quickly seen behind jackie (!!), it's the cover of french naughty humor magazine, considered to be one of the most seductive posters ever. Why put up a poster of a mysterious seductress? Because it's edgy? Because you want to be her? Because it attracted the eye For Some Mysterious Reason? A mix of it all?

• The last jackieshauna straw: this bedroom looks almost exactly like the cabin's attic, which will become Shauna's new wilderness bedroom. By itself, it's interesting, the attic felt like home.

But also... Do you know who'll lose her virginity in the cabin's attic, on Shauna's bedroll? And do you see this shot? Insane.

Then, Shauna sure was an angsty teen with a rather rich inner life she liked to display:

• Shauna draws (part 1), The Eyes: this drawing (which is most probably hers, our creative queen) really adds a lot to her pre-crash self!

It focuses on perception. Eyes turning into teeth is crazy, Shauna already linked looking/being looked with consumption, which can have many interpretations (her codependency with Jackie, her destructive relationship with Jeff, how she perceived relationships in general...). Of coure it foreshadows cannibalism, and perhaps how she'll be observed and analyzed by the world after the rescue, "a celebrity" who never asked for it. And the whole painting might also be foreshadowing future psychosis, misshapen people watching Shauna, even in her own bedroom.

• Shauna draws (part 2), The Anatomical (?) drawing: It very much reminds me a vague drawing you'd find in anatomy books, representing a digestive system? There's the lower vena cava, the stomach on its right, maybe the gastro-omental artery underneath the stomach, and the spleen on its right (which shape ressembles more of a heart, though). It's very inaccurate, especially if she drew a heart, but that's not the point. Hunger and consumption and maybe love! The butcher and human anatomy!

(Or maybe it's not meant to represent much, but I'm having such a hard time believing that, considering how consistent/purposeful Shauna's entire bedroom seems.)

• Religious items/imagery: a prayer for the Virgin Mary (if I speak...), a priest, an angel helping out the desperate, a temple, and the representation of some form of meditation. Finding comfort, peace or/and meaning through religion/spirituality already appealed to our future cult member. These make Shauna's back-and-forth relationship with spirituality even more interesting.

• The pic of the Santa Monica pier + the "Azia, Live in London" poster : the poster isn't from anything, it's a prop poster. It's all about her ambition to leave, to travel abroad (and about Shauna being so fucking cool with her cool posters of cool, obscure bands).

Also, the poster includes religious imagery, a cross!

• Reality Bites (1993) movie poster: a documentary following, among other storylines, the life of a disenchanted woman stuck in a shitty job despite graduating at the top of her class. She's also trapped... in a love triangle... do I need to elaborate....

• "Between Us... The Bleds" poster: prop poster. Between them, there's blood. Skull, woman laughing. Okay Shauna :D Aside from the angsty vibe this prop gives Shauna, it's clearly the show kinda fucking with us. Between Shauna and the world, there's the taste and feeling of blood, which lingers for the rest of her life.

• Many books, CDs, and band posters: overall, it's a mix of popular (like the huge Nirvana poster) and obscure references (prop posters serve as "obscure references"). It gives her this deep, angsty and mysterious vibe while still being "like any teenage girl".

• FUCK YOU : FUCK YOU.

Finally, a few other interesting details:

• The bunny: Either Shauna liked rabbits, either it's just there, some decoration you get as a child and then simply stays there until you move out. Of course it foreshadows all the symbolism regarding rabbits. The possibility that Shauna might have liked rabbits before the crash wrecks my brain though.

• Dazed and Confused (1993) movie poster: it's about the unforgottable last days at school, which the characters struggle to remember... Yeah, you could say that!

• She's a soccer champion: for someone who claimed not to enjoy soccer, she sure displayed a lot of items related to it! Or maybe she wasn't lying, and I'm not sure which option is worse.

=> TL;DR: just through set design, we can see that Shauna was a rather artistic soccer champion, allowed to express herself and having much to say. That she might have been in love with her codependent bestie, might have been struggling with interpersonal relationships, and was already prone to identity crises, sometimes turning to faith. Among other things. Everyone say thank you to the Yellowjackets set designers!

[crazykuroneko]

Live footage of me smoking that jam reiderson codependency + loustat blunt:

[millysastroblog]

🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄🦄

SHAKING MY HEAD ASTRO NOTES PT.4

# unpopular opinion !!!!!

🤦🏾‍♀️Venus in Libra, Venus conjunct Mars, are u guys talking to me or flirting with me. Because HONEY it is hard to differentiate, with yall charming asses. You all make my heart and mind hurt , chile. #Stop it 😏😍!

🤦🏾‍♀️Moon/- Lilith hard aspects = sexsist in WORST CASE (extreme ,out of ordinary views on females, womanhood, and female roles)

or the complete opposite being a hard core (feminist) but bashing men for literally existing.🤥 ! # In Worst case ,have seen it in many ppl charts!!

🤦🏾‍♀️Jupiter in the 3rd talk aloooot to the point of making my ears hurt, like 1000 words in 1 min is to much for me girl! # chiiiiiiiillllew

🤦🏾‍♀️Uranus in the 11th switing friend groups every new season of the year. These are the friends that you wont see that much because of how unpredictable they are ! like can yall settle down for once and not flake on people!

🤦🏾‍♀️Same with Uranus in the 7th in parterships they come and go like the wind blowing !

🤦🏾‍♀️Cancers placements and their victimization complex,

🤦🏾‍♀️same goes for pisces placements !

🤦🏾‍♀️cancer mixed with libra not showing ppl that they dont like them at all, holding a lot of resentment, and anger towards people # babes this is not helathy!

🤦🏾‍♀️the award of the attention whore of the zodiac goes tooooooo leo and LIBRAAAAAAS

🤦🏾‍♀️libras can sometimes rely to much on other people to the point of codependence! Wanting their friends partners pick and choose everything for them # i aint your mama babes!

🤦🏾‍♀️Opposite goes for Aries and Taurus placemenrs SUPER independent avoiding and rejecting help from others. #Hating to ask People for shit!

🤦🏾‍♀️Aquarius placements and their sometimes ultimate, god complex, wider than the univers EGOS , everytihing i say is and must be right (mixed with gemini, virgo, or mercury dominance) , get on my motherfucking nerves# somebody needs to check yall asses 🙄 !

🤦🏾‍♀️mars - uranus/mars- jupiter harsh aspects men are so fucking reckless , two steps away of putting yourself in a sticky situations #be carful, dont be breaking no windows, doors and unless u want to go to jail,

🤦🏾‍♀️12th house stelliums/Pisces Stelliums not living in the Moment at all. These are people u gotta call their names 5 times until they´ll catch up and wake up from lala land!# Practincing midfullness might solve the maladaptive day dreaming, # i suffer from ths shit to !! 🫤

🤦🏾‍♀️Virgos having this inner need to be perfect, babes u are fine just the way u are !!

🤦🏾‍♀️Down side of their internal perfectionism is that they mirror that back on to others. Being very critical and nitpicky about the smallest things !

🤦🏾‍♀️Lilith in the 5th/ Leo are over board scary party animals 🤠☠️ literally wanting to party and be drunk every fucking day #yall need to slow down and chiiiiiiiiillle

🤦🏾‍♀️Saturn in the 5th you guys despise children. Children for them are these scary little monsters !

🤦🏾‍♀️Venus sqaure Uranus/ Jupiter, Jupiter / Uranus in the 7th have or had a lot of suitors, relationships but sometimes they take them for granted, not taking them seriously because they have lots of options, Thinking it is all games ! # LUST before actual LOVE ! #beginning stages, # underdeveloped

🤦🏾‍♀️Venus- Mercury are dangerous charming motherfuckers hyponotizing you with their words, can use this power to take advantage of other people if not evolved, like manipulating, scamming, lying especially with Pluto and neptune prominence in Chart # siren voices 🔊

🤦🏾‍♀️Chiron in the 1st house, Chiron - ASC hard aspects are prone to pay a lot of attention to the physical appearance of others . Like having a pimple, thin hair, etc, theyll analyze your whole body and you wonder WHY??? # mmmmmhh, y’all guess? 🤔😐

🤦🏾‍♀️DARK: Mars in the 10th, Lilith in the 10, Pluto in the 10th, Neptune in the 10th, Chiron in the 10th, 10th house stellium if afflicted might be addicted to fame, success and high social status, selling their souls/ authenticity, exploiting other ppl, doing the most random insane shit , only for them to be at the top. #power greed, politicians, social media, celebrities!!

———————————————————————----------------------

*******{NEW ! ⬇️} Solar Return Chart Series: PT. 1/PT.2 *******

SHAKING MY HEAD PT.5/SHAKING MY HEAD PT.3/ SHAKING MY HEAD PT.2 / SHAKING MY HEAD PT.1

[tyrannuspitch]

you KNOW me i cant be redeemed...... WHAT ELSE WAS I GOOD FOR....... he became a villain BECAUSE he thought he was already a monster BECAUSE he wanted to purge himself of everything he was BECAUSE he wanted to destroy himself and start anew but he only made things worse so he destroyed himself again. and again. and again. until it stuck. he can't be allowed to live he can only ever be a sacrifice now. and it's fundamental it's what he was raised for it's what he was raised ALONGSIDE THOR for. loki's sacrifice was always meant for thor. as a puppet king or as the villain in his story. they know each other better than anyone and they've hurt each other worse than anyone and their relationship is inextricable from violence the very fact that they ARE brothers is rooted in violence. but it's even deeper than that loki was already a sacrifice when odin found him. he was seen as a monster beyond saving as an infant the first act of his entire life was a family member trying to kill him. but still. thor knows him. thor KNOWS him. and thor tries so so hard to forgive him and to save him. but thor is always closest to the violence and the tragedy and he sees his efforts fail over and over. thor knows the secret that drove loki over the edge; he knows now that he called for loki's death without knowing it countless times starting as a child. and however thor might protest that loki is mad and he can't understand, he must recognise parts of this loki. the downwards spiral lasted centuries before he snapped. so little of this is new. so much of it was already written, already rehearsed a thousand times. oh my god its so fucked up in here. anon do u understand what you've done to me. yes im aware that most of these thoughts are absurdly tangential but u must consider that i have a fucking disease

[odesofmeddea]

trying on an argument why sam and dean were in factual canonical enmeshment: their bond presumes the absence of nuclear family or any long-term partner in the lives of either; the very formulation of this rigid condition - me or her, - is telling, overtly so, how their relationships are rooted bog-deep in the belief in its crucial self-sufficiency. the bond between related people devoid of such an incestuous tilt generally endorses that a relative builds and commits to a family of his own and puts not a stipulation of choice. that is, ‘it is fine if my brother marries - how and why would that affect our connection?’ - is not fine with sam and dean. if it was so, sam would've kept dating ruby, amelia, etc., etc., without dean putting him under the exigency of picking, without the uncontrollable invasion of his sexual and general privacy by dean (‘did you have sex with her? first madison then ruby now cara then lilith’, dean eavesdropping on sam's calls and going through his phone, or interrogating him concerning his whereabouts, if there's a woman he doesn't know about), and, moreover, without sam feeling an unspelt obligation of either concealing (why, right?) or rescinding these side hook-ups. oh, also it's him or benny. same with lisa, who knew the fact of her secondariness when competing with sam and that the existence of one naturally excluded that of the other. why can't they all be a big family performing roles socially allotted to them?.. because sam fills in all the roles. because dean and sam want to live in one room and they brush their teeth together and share one car and invariably solve cases together and own a dog and coparent jack and even their afterlife is a shared homoheaven bereft of other love interests. where a woman is to put herself between, in what inextant interstice? ultimately she is reduced to a blur in the background while sammy raises his kid, dean ii, and she is not addressed, not once, in the script, her only definition is of a nemo-womb sam cohabits with to conceive a replica of dean he can nurture as a solace during his lifelong premeditation of reunion with his brother, his nóstos - this is an awful lot of all women and possible partners of have been and to be. one would say that's rather too much. were sam and dean a girl and a boy conforming to gender binarism & heteronormativity the ambiguity of their relation would've been acknowledged more widely, the incestuous codependency interpreted more obscene. but since they're not and also are very uneasy with the innuendo (‘the most troubling question is why they keep assuming we're gay? - we're just brothers!’), it's very convenient to diminish it to just a strong fraternal love. which it is. but not only that.

the potentiality of erotic subtext inside of their greedy proximity seems scary and stupid and is eschewed by both - how are they to subvert and subsume their relationship into non-brother categorization when it's just their life, just the only thing they've known, being this close? still, the only affairs permitted are the ones that are treated as and are simple, emotionally untethered one-night-stands because sam and dean are not sexually available to each other. nor they're resolute into directly consummating their relationship - the need to is either lacking or suppressed and is to be interpreted variously because covert incest is not primarily about coition but miscellanea of things, more often than not of un/subconscious genesis and procession. sam and dean know their relationship is bonkers. they don't necessarily have to know or admit they're a couple. what else they know, though, is they can't have sex. they cannot consciously translate their enmeshment into overt eroticism. that's why the siren episode is titled ‘sex and violence’ - there the mutual violence unleashed onto each other (along with the symbolic penetration through knife and breaking of the door) serves as a surrogate for sex. that, along with impulsive hugs, is the only form of lingering physical contact they usually have. but the yearning, although not experienced in one concreteness, compensates and provides for itself in a safer realm of sam and dean's emotional spaces. they can't have sex but they can fall into possession of each other's feelings. that's why once the personal attachment to anyone else is developed it is construed as betrayal by either. if you need another person, if you feel something for them that you're supposed to feel only with me (intimacy, trust, love, loyalty, belonging) - that's when you abandon me because we can't coexist with others.

[crybaby-bkg]

our love is god

Gojo Satoru x f!reader Warnings: gaslighting, emotional manipulation (both light but current themes), codependency, get togethers and then break ups, reader cries a lot in the later half lol, cowgirl position, heavy petting, unsafe sex, creampies, baby trapping, hinted stalker gojo, drinking at a party. I think that's all but pls tell me if I missed anything. other than that, enjoy!! Word Count: 8.2k Notes: I can’t write him normally I fear </3 nor can I write a fic for him without including a title from the heathers lol anyway, he’s not as obsessed in this fic as I originally intended, but I still enjoyed writing this so :) I hope you all enjoy reading it!!! 🖤 Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on ao3!

When Gojo first introduces himself to you, you’re the definition of unimpressed. He’s all pretty white smiles and even whiter hair, shining blue eyes with a knack of typically getting anyone he wanted. It’s why he took such a liking to you and your indifference to him, his status, his charms. 

So, you’re still not sure how you ended up dating him after almost a year of pursuing you. You’re stubborn, you can admit, but also weak for the idiot that is Gojo Satoru. He’s still as annoying as he was when you first met him, but there’s something about him now, that has captivated you. Maybe it was his persistence, or his wits, or the never ending love that spilled from between his ribcage whenever he was near you. 

Either way, you find yourself tied to his hip most days. Even though your majors in college are different, you’re still together more than people expected. Despite living together, being around the other is a necessity, a need, akin to each breath you exhale that he inhales into his own greedy mouth. You have your first class and he meets you for a quick break before his second; you have the whole afternoon off on Wednesday’s and you wait for him at the campus cafe you first met at; you want to stay home to study and he drags you off to a night with his friends. 

You don’t think that he can live without you. Not necessarily in the sense of being a man child and being unable to provide for himself, no. Gojo Satoru could do whatever he wanted, and did, long before you two had met. But, you think its a certain codependency that starts cracking at the perfect mirror that is your relationship. 

“Don’t you wanna be a stay at home wife after you graduate?” Satoru whispers in your ear, his mouth pecking your flesh as he hugs you tight to his chest. You’re on your couch, thighs split open to accommodate the thickness of him, his legs and his cock carving its way inside of you. The way your breath hitches doesn’t go unnoticed by the blue eyed man, but he can’t pinpoint if its from his words or the way he slowly pushes his hips upward until his tip nudges that sweet spot inside you 

“What are you talking about, ‘Toru?” You ask shakily, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck, burying your face in his skin. But Gojo doesn’t let you escape, instead pries you away from his body until you’re forced to lean back on his knees. He likes this view the most, when you’re vulnerable, when he gauges you with things he knows will require complete honesty, that its harder to hide from him like this. 

“You heard me,” Satoru grins, nodding his head toward you. He holds your waist in too big hands, drinking you with all too knowing eyes, grin too wide to be anything else but devious. “Didn’t you tell me you wanted to be a stay at home wife before?”

“I never s-said that,” you whisper back, eyes fluttering shut when he starts using your body to fuck his cock. He fills you up in a familiar way, a way that you know you’ll always come home to, even when you get that sinking feeling that you should run. Gojo pouts at you, leaning his head back on the couch until all you see is his stare down the bridge of his nose, his Adams apple bobbing when he swallows down a moan. 

“Didn’t you?” Satoru questions, grin widening when he thrusts a little harder than you expect, feeling you clamp down tighter around him. You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut before they flutter open to glare at him, rolling your hips to get some friction on your neglected clit. 

“Stop it, ‘Toru, you always do this.” You groan under your breath, leaning your own head back to rest between your shoulders. 

The few hiccups you had in your relationship with Satoru always centered around his…cockiness, knowing he could get anything he wanted. While it was both a factor that helped you into this relationship with him, it also chips away at your love for him everyday. It’s nothing wrong with being ambitious, of knowing what you want. But its something completely different when that want goes against what your partner is saying isn’t okay with them. 

He’s done this before, with little trivial things. Don’t you love this kind of ramen? Even though he knew you had an aversion to spicier foods. Don’t you want to change your major to this instead? Even though you were sure and loved the major you had before. Don’t you want to change for me? Erase your identity for me? Become one symbiotic being fused into me? Don’t you want to live in my skin, as I want to with yours? Don’t you love me? 

“I do not,” Gojo huffs, leaning forward to grip your head on both sides, leveling your glare with his own relaxed one. “You just have so much going on in that pretty little head of yours, that you forget things sometimes.”

“I think I would remember saying I wanted to waste away all the years I worked my ass off for college, just to stay at home and be up under you everyday.” You snip back, losing your concentration for your impending orgasm, growing more and more frustrated as he keeps yapping his stupid mouth. Gojo must sense this though, as his hands slither down to your hips, holding you still as he fucks up into you hard enough that you cry out and topple over into his chest. 

“That doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea to me,” Satoru grunts out, holding you close as he keeps snapping his hips into you. It’s like something within him has changed in just a split second; like you speaking the words aloud have rung true in his mind. It should scare you, that he’s not paying attention to the sarcasm in your voice, nor your disdain for the idea itself. But, he doesn’t stop snapping his hips until you cry out and shake in his lap, cunt clenching down around him sporadically as you mewl into his skin. 

“I like the idea of coming home to you,” he grunts in between breaths, still using your hole even though you whine to him about sensitivity. “With a big rock on your finger, all domestic, waiting and dependent on me.” 

He whispers the last part, squeezing you to him even tighter before you feel him shoot ropes of cum inside of you. Its warm—and always familiar—making you sigh as you slump into him even more. You let him finish before hearing him let out a final low grunt, pulling you into him until your head is tucked under his chin. You sit there in silence, feeling him still throbbing inside of you, and you think he must still be having those stay at home wife fantasies. You want to put an end to them immediately, so you speak up in the quietness of the room,

“Don’t get stuck in your head thinking your fantasy will become reality, Satoru.” You remind him, pinching his side where your arms rest. You can hear his smile in his voice when he speaks, wrapping long arms tight around you, so tight you fear you may never escape. 

“It always does.” He singsongs, pecking the crown of your head before resting his cheek on top of it. You frown, going to pull away, but he holds you so tight, that your breath momentarily escapes you. 

“Well, not this time.” You mumble, feeling the tiredness of a long week start to overtake you. Gojo doesn’t say anything for a long time until he’s sure you’re sleep, whispering into the air, 

“We’ll see about that.” 

…

You’re surprised that Gojo is surprised when you break up with him. You thought he would’ve been able to see it coming, especially since you had started pulling away in your last few weeks together. Instead of spending damn near every moment together, suddenly you were always busy with something else; you couldn’t go to the cafe, couldn’t sneak into empty hallways between classes, couldn’t come to the parties his friends would throw. 

He thought he could pull you into him more during these moments, discuss things he knew you loved, dropped subjects he knew would push you away. But it was too late for any of that—you were checked out of this relationship before your mouth could even form the words. 

“You don’t mean that.” Gojo mutters under his breath, the fringe of his hair blocking his vision as his head hangs low between his shoulders. He sits on that same couch where he tried to convince you that his dream of you dropping everything to become a stay at home wife was your idea. The thought makes your stomach churn—he’s always done this to you. Always planted ideas in your head that you knew weren’t true, but if Satoru said it, then there must be some sort of truthfulness in it, right? 

“I do.” You say firmly, back straight where you stand in front of his hunched over form on the couch. Your body is poised to run in case he does something unhinged, and you’re sure he won’t, but you refuse to take any chances. He gets quiet for a long while, before croaking out a quiet,

“Why? What did I do?” You could scoff. What did he do? What didn’t he fucking do to you to drive you to this point? 

What was the driving force to disconnecting from him? You wonder if it was the codependency that he forced upon you, like he couldn’t live without you? If it was the constant messages of your whereabouts that shredded you thin, when you weren’t around him, when you tried to be independent? Was it the clinginess? The feeling of his skin glued to yours all the time, the feeling of being trapped in his shadow? Was it the overbearing love, the struggle to breathe on your own? Was it all of it? But instead of expressing any of this, all you can spit out is a meekly excuse,

“I just don’t think we’re meant to be together.” You whisper, suddenly ashamed at your cowardice. You had a whole speech prepared on how you would break up with him, how you’d point out his flaws, his incapacity to love you as a person and not as a possession. But you swallow it all down, afraid too much will come back up, that you’ll ruin the front of your clothes with your verbal bile that he won’t be able to clean like he used to anymore. 

“That’s it, huh?” Satoru asks you quietly, craning his neck slightly so that a glowing blue eye can peek through his fringe. It unnerves you more than it should, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand with every passing second. He knows there’s more to it, more that you refuse to say, but honestly, you’re not sure if its worth it anymore. You just want to leave. 

“That’s it.” You nod, finality barely lacing your tone, as you still stand on shaky grounds. You clear your throat and look around the apartment, wringing your hands together as Gojo continues to watch you. 

“I’ll, uh, get my clothes and stuff tomorrow. You can keep everything else.” You tell him, avoiding his gaze as your eyes dart over to the front door. You wonder, if he chases you, will you be able to make it out alive? 

“Where are you going to live?” He asks you, finally lifting his upper body so that he sits up on the couch, his hands folded neatly in his lap. You don’t think he’s taken his eyes off of you yet. 

“Me and a friend found an apartment not too far from campus.” You don’t want to disclose too much information, afraid he would find you and pretend that you guys never broke up. Pretend that everything is okay, and be glued right back to your flank as if nothing had ever happened. Or maybe you just think the worst of him, you conclude, when Gojo smiles at you. It’s not as unsettling as you would think, more on the side of acceptance, but it baffles you all the same. 

He unfurls himself from the couch, standing too tall, too broad, too intimidating, despite the fact that he curls in a little to keep you from being scared. He opens his arms to you, and you try not to stare at the bulging muscles beneath his black tee, muscles that are all too familiar and call your name to come running back home. 

“Well, okay then.” Gojo finally speaks after what feels like hours. “I wish you the best.” His voice sounds all too genuine, all too sweet and convincing. 

He’s taking this…well? Gojo, who wouldn’t let you breathe in your own breaths without his mouth being pressed right against yours? Whose heart slowed to the rhythm of your own to always be in sync? Who would hold you close every night, almost as if in fear that you would escape in the night and leave him stranded? He’s…alright with you breaking up with him?

Like you’re under a spell, your feet move heavily until they fit perfectly between his own spread ones, arms coming up to his sides until he embraces you tightly. He’s warm, always is, and smells so familiar that you feel your own heart ache knowing that his scent will become a haunting memory instead of the comfort of home. He wraps you up in him until his arms squeeze your shoulders and your face is buried into his chest. 

You don’t realize that you’re crying until he kisses the top of your head, shushing you to stop your hiccuping sobs as you cling to his shirt. Why are you crying? This was your decision after all. But why does him accepting your breakup hurt more? Why didn’t he fight for you? He would always fight for you. 

“Okay, I have a lecture in about twenty minutes.” Gojo tells you, a signal to pull away, and you do, but it hurts more than it really should. You wipe your face with your sleeve, avoiding his eyes as he holds you back by the shoulders, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. 

“I’ll always love you, you know that?” He tells you, eyes searching your face. You swallow down a hiccup, scrubbing at your eyes petulantly as you nod a few times. 

“I hope you have a successful life.” You can almost hear him tacking on a quiet without me, but he only smiles at you again before pecking your forehead one last time. After that, he squeezes your shoulders before he lets you go, turning on his heel as he starts gathering a few things. He’s at the door in what feels like seconds, his broad back facing you, feeling you staring at him. He turns his neck until his eye catches your own, winking at you once before opening the door and walking out. 

It’s the last time you see Gojo for a while, and it makes you feel emptier than you care to admit. 

…

As time goes on, you start to get better. Things get a little easier to deal with, you start gaining more independence while living with your friend, start going out more, getting better grades. You never thought that you were necessarily a terrible match with Satoru, but you think in certain aspects that he held you back more than you ever recognized in those moments. 

But, overall, everything is going fine. Well, mainly everything, save for your love life. 

You wanted to take a break from dating after being in your relationship with Gojo for over a year, but its been eight months since you split, and you don’t see yourself getting with anyone else in the meantime. You’re in your last year of college, so you’re hoping for some kind of hookup before you graduate, but it feels like something else is off. Like the people around you avoid you when you’re near if they aren’t already yours friends, like they’re hesitant to be near you without setting clear boundaries that they’re not interested in you at all. 

You chalk it up to your past with Gojo, as most people knew you were together. Maybe they’re scared of pissing him off and getting with his ex. You’ve heard rumors from people that he thinks you’ll get back together soon, but you’re not sure if these words actually came from him, or if people just like to gossip. Either way, you try to let it roll off of your back, and put yourself out there to people who don’t go to your school. 

Which still ends up being a dud. You think you just might be cursed, or something. You can’t even get laid with a random hookup! You’re sure its Gojo doing something to make everyone lay off of you, but you also haven’t spoken to him since the breakup, so you’re not sure if confronting him about it is a great idea. 

Except, the choice is taken from you when you find yourself in the cafe that you first met him in, and he’s there too. You hadn’t noticed him, if he was already there when you came, or if he slithered in after you, but he’s there. Sitting diagonal from your booth, facing you, hands under his chin as he yaps away to his friend, Suguru. You remember the guy well, although you were never too close with him, and he seems intrigued with whatever Gojo is blabbering on about, which is typically unusual. 

Your eyes quickly flit back over to your laptop screen where you text who you’re sure will be another unsaved contact from a dating app, pretending to not see the white haired man. But luck hasn’t been on your side in a while, as you can see him perk up from the corner of your eye as his whole body turns to you, his conversation abruptly cutting off. He calls your name once and you pretend not to hear him, but then he’s standing and making his way over to you, and you fear you can’t avoid him any longer. 

“Long time no see.” Gojo greets you, standing over your table with too big a grin. You act surprised at the sight of him, gasping a little before raising your eyebrows, fingers slowing in their typing until they stop. 

“Hey, its been a while, hasn’t it?” You ask, even though you know, and you’re sure he knows too, that you’ve been avoiding him as much as humanly possible. But Gojo only smiles wider at you, cocking his head to the side as he takes you in shamelessly, and you do the same. 

He looks…bigger, than he did before, his shoulders broader, his physique just a little wider than you remember. He looks more relaxed than you think he would be, after you unceremoniously breaking up with him, and then actively avoiding him for almost an entire year after that. He looks…good. 

“May I?” Gojo asks, referring to the seat in the booth across from you. You stutter for a second, wondering if you should allow him back in, even if its in the tiniest amount. You did last time, in this same cafe, and ended up with him glued to your very being. You don’t know if you’re strong enough to unstick him another time. But you swallow and force a smile, nodding once to the empty space in front of you. 

“Sure,” you mumble, trying to quickly shut out the dating app on your laptop, exiting out of the messages without looking too obvious. But its like Gojo always knows when something is up, and he rests his chin in his hand as the other taps at the table, too loud in the quiet cafe. 

“Meet anyone new yet?” He asks, making your eyes shoot up to his own guiltily. But he smiles that easygoing smile at you, making you suck in a deep breath as you finally calm enough to close out the app. 

“No luck in that department yet. Not sure if its an unfortunate thing, though.” You hum, eyes flittering up to his own that are covered by his infamous circled glasses. He never really wore them when he was around you, and you feel weird by the sudden melancholy that overtakes you at the thought. You’ve grown without me, Satoru, you don’t treat me the same anymore. I thought you always would. 

“Me neither, but I don’t think its unfortunate.” He tells you, tilting his head a little to the side as he huffs out a humorless laugh. You want to ask him what he means by that, but you’re afraid of the answer. Thankfully, he speaks before you find out what his statement really meant. 

“How were you grades last semester? Did you end up passing that dick professor’s class?” Gojo asks softly, all of his attention on you, makes you feel a little overwhelmed, and all too familiar. But if its a negative thing, you can’t really figure it out. You didn’t like the constant attention, the clinginess and dependency, but there was something about someone so devoted to you. Someone who looked at you like you molded lighting bolts in hand and struck down soft soil to create the earth. Someone who looked at you like you held the secrets of their life behind your teeth, like some prophet one could only wish to get close to. 

“I passed. Barely.” You mumble, smiling a little when Gojo celebrates with a clap and a small cheer, making Suguru turn around slightly to catch the commotion. He calms when he sees you sink in on yourself in embarrassment, smiling at you all the while with a look too familiar. That goes on for what feels like hours, like the entire world has sunken away, drowned out into a blurry nothingness as your background. 

Here, its just you and Satoru. Here, there are no issues or problems in your relationship. Here, you love him and he loves you and that is enough. Here, your love for him conquers all doubt and fear. Here, your love is perfect. 

The spell is broken suddenly when Gojo leans back in the booth, stretching a little. You feel the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding come flooding back to you, making you slump over a little in your seat. A ding from your computer signals suddenly, making your eyes dart over to the notification. Its from the dating app, the guy you were just texting suddenly telling you that he can’t make it to your date tonight, but that he’d love to see you after midnight at his place. 

You deflate, and Gojo is far too perceptive. He clears his throat once, making your eyes snap back over to him in surprise, and then quickly guilt. But why do you feel so guilty? You’re single, you broke up with him. But its something about the way his mouth twitches at the corner, that makes shame sink deep into the pit of your belly. 

“I’ll see you around,” Gojo says lowly, tipping his head at you and standing before you can get a word out. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, before managing to spit something out, 

“And I’ll—I’ll see you!” You cringe the moment the words leave your mouth. But Gojo only gives you a half smile, reaching out to rub gently at the crown of your head, an act he would always do whenever you did something he was quite fond of. You guess things never really change. 

…

Your roommate had convinced you to go to a party with her, one to celebrate the end of your fall semester. You were reluctant at first, but after the umpteenth rejection, you decide your ego needs some kind of boost. Since it was a little colder, you dressed warm, but still adorned something that you hope would draw more eyes to your form. 

When you get there, the party is in full swing. There’s a loud bass playing somewhere in the house, people littering the dance floor, cups of mysterious juice being passed around to everyone who enters. As you make your way inside, you quickly lose sight of your friend, and it doesn’t bother you as it usually would. 

Tonight, you’re on the hunt for someone new—someone not Gojo. But, you think you might’ve personally pissed off a deity or something, because of fucking course, he’s there at the party. Sitting on a couch between his friends with his too long limbs and dark glasses despite it damn near being pitch black in the house, save for some colorful lighting strobing across the walls. 

You catch his face, a stream of a soft baby blue gracing his features, at the same time his head turns in your direction. Even though you can’t see his eyes, you know he’s looking at you. You can always tell when he is. And he smiles a little smile, tipping his head and his cup to you, and awkwardly, you do the same back before stiffly turning on your heels to head for the kitchen. 

It’s just as stuffy in there as the rest of the house, but there is a little more breathing room. You take a second to catch your breath, mumbling a quick apology to whatever deity you pissed off, before grabbing a cup. 

“Hey, can you pour me some too?” A voice rings out from beside you, making you perk up in surprise. You look over and find a pretty handsome guy beside you, smiling and offering a red solo cup in your direction. He smiles when you look at him, and you smile back with a nod. 

“Of course. Tell me when,” you say over the loud music, filling up his cup and laughing when a little spills over because the guy is too busy looking at you. He chuckles under his breath, grabbing a few napkins to wipe up the mess as he stands there watching you pour your own drink. 

“I don’t usually fumble this bad, you know.” The guy tells you, pretty smile beaming as you look at him from over your cup, mirth shining in your eyes. You cock an eyebrow at him, resting your hip against the counter. 

“Oh, really?” You tease, to which he nods quickly. “So I just make you nervous then, huh?” You grin, to which he grins back cheekily, shrugging a little as he forgoes an answer to take a swig of his drink. Conversation with the guy goes smoothly for a few minutes, before he suddenly turns stone still, looking over your shoulders. You cock an eyebrow, repeating your previous question, before turning to see what’s captured his attention. You don’t see anybody, and when you go to ask him what’s wrong, you discover that he’s already disappeared into the crowd. 

The rest of the night goes eerily like this, like there’s some bad omen just lingering above your head, like there’s some warning sign strapped to your chest telling people to stay far away. Every conversation that you start with someone ends up the same; a look over your shoulder, before turning pale, and scurrying away with some excuse about having to be somewhere else. 

By the end of the night, you have to bite back tears in the bathroom as you stare yourself down in the mirror. Is it your clothes? Your breath? Your makeup? What the fuck is driving everyone away from you like some walking disease?

The answer to your question pops up in front of you the moment you swing the bathroom door open. Gojo stands in the doorway, entirely too tall, entirely too broad, entirely too handsome. Maybe its the few drinks you’ve downed in the past couple minutes, but the alcohol in your belly is pulling you home. 

“I saw you come up here, and you looked upset, so I just wanted to check on you.” Gojo tells you under the muted bass of the music downstairs. He looks so sincere, his glasses pushed down to the perkiness of his nose, looking at you with a gaze so intense, you feel your legs tremble. 

“I know we broke up a while ago, but I still care for your well being, you know that right?” He professes, reaching a hand out to wipe away a stray tear you hadn’t caught. You try not to lean into his palm when his hand lingers, and he’s gone too fast for your liking. 

You stare up at him all the while, silent, taking him in. It’s been so long since you’ve got to look at him, really look at him, and take every part of him in. When you look at him, you don’t see the dependency or the whining or the frustration when you became too independent. 

No, you see the Satoru that loved you, that put you to bed on nights when you put your physical health after your studies. The Satoru that celebrated your accomplishments every opportunity that he had, who encouraged you to do more, try harder, be your best self. You see the Satoru that always offered companionship, even on days when things were too hard for him to handle himself. You see the company that always stayed beside you, the familiarity of him, his smell, his pretty blue eyes, his chest that welcomed your tears and your snot and every cry you’ve ever had. 

Without a word, you fall into his chest, arms still limp at your sides. You catch him off guard a little, feeling him stumble back once before he braces himself, bringing his arms to wrap around your whole body. He squeezes you tight to him, rubbing the back of your head as you hiccup little cries into his shirt, clutching the fabric of his sweatpants tight in your trembling hands. 

He stands there and lets you get all of your emotions out until you finally slow, still rubbing a comforting hand over your head and down your flank. When your hiccups have longer and longer intervals, is when he finally pulls you back by your shoulders. The position is all too familiar, makes you have flashbacks to that day where you changed the course of both of your lives. Gojo squeezes your shoulders when he sees your bottom lip tremble, and he can’t help but pout back amusedly at your watery eyes. 

“You wanna get out of here, and go back home?” He asks you, leaning down a little so that his face is so close to yours. You can see the different specks of blue in his irises, watch how his nose crinkles a little when you hiccup again and nod slowly, how his mouth curves into a smirk when you wipe at your face with the backs of your hands. 

“Okay, let’s go then.” He says softly, unable to resist leaning forward to peck at your forehead. Your eyes close at the contact, feeling yourself melt back into the person you were a year ago, melded into Gojo, and always finding yourself going back home with him. 

…

Everything feels all too familiar, at the moment. You ride in Gojo’s sleek black car late in the night, the windows rolled down and music that you both hate playing too loudly on the speakers. The only thing different, is that you’re still teary, and he’s quiet. 

“I’m really sorry, you know?” You mutter, still wiping away the tears as they flow freely, now you think because of the alcohol. You wish you would’ve been able to have this conversation a little more sober, but its too late now. You just babble on and on while Gojo listens, one hand on the wheel and the other resting in his lap. 

“I just felt so overwhelmed in our relationship, like I wasn’t myself anymore. And I can’t blame you, like, I have to take some accountability for not doing more to maintain my identity in order to appease you. But I just—I just lost who I was and I just needed a break, but I don’t want space from you anymore.” You rattle on, too afraid to look over at him, scared his jaw would be ticking and his mouth would be set in a firm line. The car is silent for a few seconds before Gojo speaks up,

“So that’s it?” His voice crackles in the car above the music that quiets for a few beats. “We were just on a year long break, and didn’t actually break up?” Your stomach sinks at his words, hands wringing together as you try to piece an explanation together quickly. 

“Well, um—”

“So glad I didn’t cheat then.” Gojo cuts you off, making your head whip over to him in surprise. He’s grinning now, big and wide, reaching a hand over to squeeze at your thigh as he tilts his head in your direction to wink at you. You feel yourself slowly deflate, nerves crumbling with every passing second, every sentence Gojo prattles on with about how much he missed you. 

When you finally gain your composure, you realize that you’ve stopped at a red light, and Gojo is looking at you again. You blink bleary eyes at him—so sweet, so innocent—you watch him practically melt in the drivers seat. His skin is tinged with the red of the traffic lights, makes his eyes look even paler, his mouth even pinker. You sigh softly into the air when his big hand snakes up to cup your cheek, finally allowing yourself to relax into his touch. 

“You’ve always been such a pretty crier.” Gojo whispers to you, and you want to kiss him so, so bad, but you don’t. You let him take control since you hurt him so bad with the breakup, let him control the moment, but you secretly wish that he kisses you until your lungs stop. Instead, he runs his thumb across your bottom lip before pulling away, and you belatedly realize that its because the light has turned green. 

Gojo's hand drops into your lap again though, rubbing gently at your thigh as you keep staring at him. He’s talking about how little the apartment has changed since you’ve been gone, about you moving back in, about having some movers ready before the weekend is up. And you’re listening, you are, but its so hard to fully tune into what he’s saying when he looks so pretty and his big hand keeps stroking at your sensitive thighs. While looking at him, you try and inch his hand closer between your legs, so many memories flooding back of you being in this same position before. 

Except, this time, Gojo does not appease you. No, instead he turns to you with a frown, eyes bouncing back and forth from you and the road, as he stills his hand when you try and tug at it. 

“What were you saying earlier? About needing a break before, about wanting to wait?” He asks you softly, cooing at your little pout that instantly takes over your face. 

“Just wait until we get home, baby. I’ve been without you for so long now, I wanna cherish the moment.” He says fondly, tugging at your bottom lip when you pout. You nod, but don’t say anything, dejected at your rejection from him, telling yourself you should’ve known that things wouldn’t have gone back to the exact same. Only, Gojo sees your little pout, and he’s missed you so damn much, that he can’t help but spoil you. Just a little. 

“Unzip your jeans for me, love.” Gojo calls out to you, nodding his chin in the direction of your legs. You try not to perk up too much, but you listen without a moments hesitation, quickly unbuttoning your jeans, zipping the zipper down in the now quiet car. 

You don’t take them off or shimmy them down your hips too far, just a little, just enough for Gojo to squeeze his hand between them and your panties. From there, he pets gently at your cunt, lithe fingers stroking between your lips, pushing as far as he can into your hole that pulsates around the fabric. He pulls and gently tugs at your pubes, grinning when you hiss, and taps his finger against your hole once more. He feels your increasing wetness starting to spread, and it makes him chuckle, moving deft fingers up to start petting at your clit. 

You sigh softly, dropping your legs open as much as you can with the restrictive material, holding onto Gojo’s arm like a life jacket. And he lets you, coos down to you about how sensitive he forgot you were, how swollen your little clit is already, how you’re seeping through your panties, how dirty you’ve always been for him. When you feel close to coming, from being untouched in so long, from missing his fingers so much, he suddenly stops. 

You whine, digging your nails into his arm as you blink at him confusedly. But Gojo is already pulling into the apartment complex, grinning all the while. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, tapping your clit once, twice, with the pad of his finger to watch your hips stutter. “I’ll get you what you want in no time.”

…

Falling into bed with Satoru is as familiar as breathing, as walking, as loving him. Feels as familiar as waking up beside him and being welcomed by your favorite coffee drink and being kissed despite your morning breath. Feels as familiar as your skin melting into his own, as sharing a set of lungs and kidneys, as your hearts beating the same pattern that is all too familiar with you both. 

When he sinks his cock into your aching heat, you feel like all is right in the world again. What were you thinking before, when leaving him? How could you do that to him, to the both of you? Why would you ever leave when Satoru always felt this good?

You moan into his mouth when he lays on top of you, flat on your back with one leg over his shoulder, as he traps your other leg between his thighs. His pubes brush against your clit when he leans into you, his fringe brushing away the sweat starting to gather on your forehead, huffing a laugh against your lips. 

“Did you miss this? Miss me? I haven’t heard you say it enough tonight.” Gojo teases you, rolling his hips into your sweet cunt with every word. Your eyebrows screw up at the pleasure, and he can’t help but blink bleary eyes open to admire how pretty you look under him. You nod quickly, nose bumping against his as you wrap your arms tight around his shoulders. 

“Missed you so much. ‘M so sorry for leaving,” you babble on, grinding your hips into his, feeling him throb deep inside of you at your words. He groans, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of your lips, dipping it inside when you so graciously welcome him in. 

“You miss me, or was it just my cock?” Satoru asks against you, laughing a little when you quickly shake your head, holding him tight to you. 

“Missed you, missed you so fuckin’ much, ‘Toru.” The sound of his nickname falling from your lips makes him groan into your cheek, pulling his hips back to fuck into you a little harder. He holds the back of your head until your foreheads press together, eyes staring at your fluttering ones from the pleasure, drinking in every piece of you that he can get. 

“You still love me, don’t you? Didn’t forget about how much, right?” Satoru asks, hips starting to slam into yours, pace quickening. Your moans are stuttered with every breath, and you’re sure you’d be sliding up the bed if he didn’t keep such a tight grip on you. You throw your head back with a little yelp when he suddenly presses a wet thumb to your clit, rubbing it in quick little circles. 

“Huh? Did you forget all your love for me?” Gojo sounds disappointed in you, and that’s the last thing you wanted. Your hands find his nape and his scalp, pulling as soft as you can as you blink a few times through the tears of pleasure. 

“No, never, I could never forget, ‘Toru. Love you so much, so, so much,” you chant your love for him, holding on for dear life to his skin when he starts fucking you with renewed passion. Your words make his cock throb from deep inside of you, make him wanna bring you to the edge just like how he used to. 

And he does, but only this time, he doesn’t let you jump from the edge, no. Instead, Gojo pulls out, shushes your cries with a kiss to your greedy mouth as he moves your leg from his shoulder. He positions you until your lower body is twisted to the side, legs tight together, pretty plump lips peeking from between. He slots his dick back inside of you, comfortable and familiar, sinking in deep and growling at your squeak at how thick he feels in this position. 

“Fuck, feels like you’re splitting me open, ‘Toru!” You whine, reaching out for him when he sits up on his knees. He leans into you, lets you cup his cheek, sucks your thumb into his mouth when it falls open. Gojo looks rabid now, his glasses slipping off of his face as his hips slam into you. Usually, he wouldn’t be so desperate, but you’ve deprived him of this sweet pussy far too long for him to be rational about any of this. 

“You like that? Yeah?” Satoru asks you, one hand holding your hip, the other reaching out to squeeze one of your tits in his hand. You push your chest out to him, nodding and hiccuping as you moan with every thrust inside of your aching cunt. 

“Yeah,” you whine back, eyes glossy as your hands fall back, one holding onto your pillow beneath you that smells just like his shampoo. The other grips the back of his hand that holds your tit, eyes screwing shut when he sneaks down to start thumbing at your clit again. 

“You’re so desperate for me, isn’t that right?” Satoru coos down at you, glasses falling from his face, bouncing off of your hip. He pants from above you, his usual carefully styled hair going awry and all over his head, licking his lips as he stares down at you. You nod quickly, holding on for dear life as you start feeling your orgasm starting to creep on you again. 

“Must’ve been miserable everyday without me, without my cock.” Satoru groans down, leaning back on his knee as he keeps fucking you to admire the sight. He throws his head back when you squeeze your thighs even tighter, cunt clamping down around him, gritting his teeth all the while. 

“Knew you’d come crawling back to me, it was only a matter of time. You looked so pretty doing it,” He growls, watching your telltale signs that your orgasm is near. But, Gojo is a petty bastard, and still insists that he makes you wait. For all its worth, its the least you could do for breaking his heart over needing stupid space. 

He waits until he’s sure you’re on the brink of your orgasm before pulling out once more. You groan and whine this time, but he only manhandles your body until you’re on your stomach, thighs pressed together once more. He cages your legs between his own, pulling at your cheeks until they spread for him, and he takes a second to admire the pretty sight before him. Gojo can’t help but lean down and press a quick kiss to your dripping hole, feeling you clench down quickly and squeak. 

He laughs at you and smacks a hand down on your ass before sitting up again, holding his base so that he can tease his cock at your hole. You whine for him to stop teasing you, to put it in already, make you cum like he has so many times before. 

And he does just that; pressing his leaky tip in inch by slow inch until you’re full of him. You let out a filthy moan until his base and balls are snuggled into your ass, whole body going limp below him. You let him use you as you please, head feeling fuzzy the entire time as he leans his body weight on top of you, fully crushing you. 

“Our love is so strong, isn’t it?” Gojo hums into your ear, committing to slow strokes this time, because he likes how you quiver underneath him when he grinds his tip against your sweet spot. “Feels like nothing could ever break it, like nothing could ever come between us.” 

He kisses your shoulders as he speak, intertwining his fingers into yours, holding your hands where they rest on the pillows beneath you. Its an intimate gesture, makes you swallow the cry that wants to rip out of your throat, burying your face into fluffy fabric that smells of him to moan loudly. 

“You wanna make it even stronger, don’t you?” Gojo whispers under his breath, feeling his cock brush your sweet spot over and over until it drives you crazy. All you can do is nod, squeezing his hand as he nibbles at your ear. 

“Let’s have a baby, together.” His words should alarm you, and so should the lack of a condom that you’re just now realizing. So should how sinister his voice has become, and how his cock swells and kicks inside of you at just mentioning it. 

But, it doesn’t. You don’t think you’ve ever loved him more, supported an idea as much as you did in that vert moment. 

“How’s that sound? Really solidify our love for each other, right?” Satoru pushes and pushes and pushes until you’re teetering on the edge once more. You know, that if you answer correctly, he’ll let you finally jump over. So you do. 

“Put a baby in me, Satoru,” you demand of him, words muffled by your face in the pillows. Gojo groans loud at that, eyes squeezing shut as he thrusts into you so hard that it sends you up the bed, the friction on your clit finally making you reach your orgasm. You cry out loudly, head flying back as Gojo shushes you, mouthing at your throat all the while your legs kick up and your toes curl. 

“And after this, you can make your dreams of being a stay at home mom finally come true.” You drown his words out as you cum, shaking beneath him as you gush all over his cock, long awaited after being denied three times tonight. You think its worth it, even though the back of your mind convinces you that you’ve just made a deal with the devil himself. 

But its hard to be upset when Gojo cums inside of you, filling you up to the brim as he groans into your cheek. His hips keep bucking and stuttering inside of you, fucking his cum back in when you feel it start to slowly slip out. He doesn’t let even a drop slip from around his cock, keeps fucking you and fucking you until you cry about being sensitive. Only then, does he pull out, but he props your tired hips up. 

“Can’t let any of it go to waste, right?” You can hear the grin in his voice, but you’re too tired to tell him you started birth control a few months ago. He rubs your hips and your ass, fingering his cum back in every time your hips shake from exhaustion. Only when you collapse on the bed, knocked out cold, does he let up. 

Gojo sits back on his knees to admire you, the fingertip shaped bruises on your hips, your spent cunt, your drooling mouth, your shut eyes, and wonders. Wonders how you’ll feel years down the line when—and if—he finally tells you how he got you back. While he made you think it was because he allowed you space and time, you couldn’t be further from the truth.

After your breakup, Gojo was always there. Always lingered around the corner, always looked out for you because no one else in this world would. Even if that meant scaring off potential dates, and getting rid of the more persistent ones. Even if it meant having to watch from afar as you tried to move on from him. Even if it meant switching out your birth control for placebos that you were none the wiser of. 

He just loved you so fucking much, and his love for you was stronger than anything in the universe, and he would do—and did— anything to get it back. Even if you would never know of the sins he committed to have you again. 

reblogs and comments are so appreciated! thank you all for reading 🫶🏼

[i-politely-disagree]

Sprace- Call

MODERN AU TW: Swearing??

(I've never posted on here lol)

Spot cringed as his phone call was answered. Usually, it just went straight to the far too familiar  “Hi it’s Racetrack! Don’t leave a message!” voicemail to hurt him even more with the fact that he was either blocked, or Race was declining all his calls. A harsh ‘What do you want?’ may not have been ideal, but Spot still smiled softly at the sound of his ex’s voice.

"Hey…Race," He started. The same words he had said almost every day a month ago. Throwing his bag down as he got back from work, striking up conversations at 2 a.m even though they both needed to be up early, Starting a call much like this one if anything happened. "Do you still have my white shirt with the sleeves?" 

When Race’s phone displayed Spot’s caller ID, he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe yelling, maybe an explanation that it was a dare, or maybe some tearful confession about how his love never died. Anything with more emotion than requesting an old shirt.

“Um… I’ll look around.” The conversation was too stiff, too formal. Race fiddled with the cuffs of the white shirt that definitely wasn’t Spot’s (it was) that he was wearing and paced around the couch he slept on. 

“What do you need it for?”

He’d never admit it, but Race missed Spot more than he could tell. Hearing his voice again was painful, but something to feel. He had been a mess the last month, living with his best friend, missing sleep and working his ass off to help pay the rent when it was paying the rent that got him into this mess. Spot had walked out after the topic of money had come up, only after many anger-clouded words had been thrown between him and Race. Just thinking about it, Race could taste the regret and adrenaline and feel the knot of codependency tighten as it had done that night when he realized how alone and helpless he was. Even though he hadn’t anticipated a break-up, it wasn’t like Race was expecting-

“A wedding,” Spot answered coldly and quickly. Dwelling on love around him wasn’t going to help him swallow the lump in his throat.

He regretted walking out every day. He knew deep down, that he could’ve walked back in at any moment with nothing fixed, another argument ignored, but weeks passed and Race lost the apartment he could only afford with Spot’s help. Spot lost the one stable thing in his life, the one person he felt like he could talk to, the stupidity, wittiness, energy and affection that came with Race and he missed it more than he was willing to admit. He knew it was his chance to salvage any scraps of a relationship but didn’t know how to begin. 

“I’m sorry.” It was a struggle to force the words out of his mouth, but Spot managed to sound a lot more stable than he felt. 

Race’s reply was so emotionless it hurt. No sadness, not even a quiver in his voice, no hope. Just a bland question reminding Spot he’d made more than enough mistakes;

“About what?” 

“Um, This. Calling you, acting like nothing’s happened, acting like I don’t care.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Spot knew he would have to address the elephant in the room.

“...And leaving. I was- I am so stupid for walking out. It sounds pathetic but I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I really lo- I really loved you.” 

Race’s soft smile threatened to fall at the use of past tense.  His mind tried to object, but a smirk tugged at his lips and words crawled out.

“You miss me.”  He observed, a mix of teasing and astonishment now unmistakable in his voice

“No, I just really want my shirt,” Spot said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as if Race could see him over the phone.  “Yes, I fucking miss you.”

Spot hated himself for giving in that easily. But at the same time, he knew lying wasn’t going to get him anywhere or anyone for that matter.

Warm hope bloomed through Race at the less-than-heartfelt confession, sudden longing for the one person he thought he’d never be allowed to long for again. A million hazy emotions flew through his mind but he couldn’t articulate everything he was feeling and couldn’t force every heavy sentiment through the phone. He needed to know this was genuine before pouring his heart out. 

Spot’s finger was over the ‘End Call’ button when Race interrupted their silence, “But you said-”

“I said a lot of things,” Spot cut him off, “We both did. But I’d bet this month's rent you didn’t mean half of it.” 

Race wanted to object, but it was true. He hadn’t meant anything close. And while he prayed to every god that he wouldn’t regret it again, heavy words slid off his tongue;

“I miss you too. But look, we can’t just…go back to whatever we had a month ago.”

“Bad communication and not-yet-healed commitment issues?”

Race exhaled deeply, “Yeah, that. But I can’t- I mean- I’ve got your shirt. Please just come and get it so we can at least talk in person.” 

Spot running down apartment stairs full speed to reunite with his ex-boyfriend was probably something countless medical professionals would advise against but, quite frankly, he was more than willing to break a wrist or two for another shot. He managed a couple of breathless words that were essentially just ‘See you soon’ before falling into his car in a haze of nerves and emotions pretty damn close to excitement. Serious conversations weren’t his forté but were better than a familiar voicemail.

[yandere-daydreams]

artifical idol venti? hold on this is making me think a little. out of the other possible roles that mentioned so far, this is the first i think that really public. not saying that the other ones aren't but a idol makes me wonder how the whole 'companion android' part works out. like, imagine getting a venti as a misguided gift because you had liked some of his songs. or!! working as a tech for one if he is still doing idol stuff(since that maybe unpopular to stop depending on he was received)

tw - unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, and slight codependence.

just to be clear, i do think he's been retired as an idol and, since Teyvat's shift into all sex dolls all the time, he's only ever been sold for commercial use, even if he's still retained his angelic singing voice and idol charm. he even performs at special events alongside more recent androids like Xinyan and Yunjin, but he hasn't had any concerts since released as a companion droid. just to avoid diverting attention away from the main focus of Teyvat as a brand, or whatever their publicists decided to say.

all of which you already know, obviously. you've been a diehard fan since he was an idol, even served as a repair tech on his last few tours, so when he was officially retired, it only made sense that you were the one to take him home - even if he did have to have his memory card wiped, first, and his stage-outfit replaced with something a little more... uh, appropriate for daily use. the first few weeks were just as awkward as you'd expect living with your long-term celebrity crush would be, but by the end of that month, you'd gotten used to the way he'd splay himself out on your lap or littler feather-light kisses across your neck, and you started to see him as something more akin to a very eccentric, very affectionate roommate than a world-renowned performer you only ever got to interact with when he managed to tear his synthetic skin or knock one of his ball-joints out of its socket. he's not much for chores, but he likes running errands with you, and you honestly prefer it when he cuddles against your back while you're washing dishes or whines and tugs at your clothes as you're finishing up a few projects you didn't have time to wrap-up while you were at your workshop. he's cute, and eager, and just as attention-starved as he was when he still needed a stadium full of people to fawn over him. and, of course, you wouldn't have him any other way.

although, you are a little worried about just how much attention he seems to want. it's toned down from his idol days, made into more of an ever-present neediness than a constant lust for adoration, but there are still some undertones there, a certain spark in his glass eyes that reminds you of the way he used to look backstage, grinning to himself, more than ready to sing for a crowd that'd leave most people too scared to spit out a few shakey notes. you can see it when in bed, as he grinds against your thigh and holds your hands to his chest, and hear it in his voice as he introduces himself to anyone you bring over - always so proud to claim you as his user and himself as your favorite and only companion. he likes to sing for you, hum little lullabies as you're falling asleep or play a few of his songs while he's watching you work, but you can swear, he's changing the lyrics, twisting the words to make them less loving and more love-sick. it shouldn't bother you as much as it does, but it feels like he's been putting more and more effort into staying close to you, into sneaking into your bed at night long after you've told him to go to his charging port, into prodding at your feelings and playing with your sympathy until you're willing to take him anywhere you go, until you just can't bring yourself to tear him away from your side. you know he's just a little clingy, but you can't help but worry about him, sometimes. you know it's just the way he was programmed, but...

you can't help but wonder if he'll be the only thing you're allowed to pay attention to, soon enough.

[multifandomfix]

Petyr Baelish Yandere Alphabet

A = Attachment (How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?)

He puts his entire trust in you. You are the only one privy to his innermost thoughts and feelings. That’s how he shows his love.

B = Blood (How messy are they willing to get when it comes to you?)

He prefers to keep things clean. It would be easier for him not to go to the trouble of cleaning up your messes, so he’d likely be done with you if you caused him too many issues.

C = Clingy (Do they require your attention at all times? How do they act when you ignore them?)

He’s a busy man, so he certainly doesn’t require your attention at all times, but when he wants it, you better not ignore him.

D = Dependent (Are they codependent? Do they want you to rely solely on them for your care/protection?)

Petyr definitely sees himself as your protector, but as long as there is someone out there keeping you safe for him, he’s not going to bitch about it.

E = Excess (Would they spoil or pamper you? To what extent?)

He likes to spoil you a bit, giving you pretty things and tokens of his devotion to you.

F = Fatal (Would they kill you? Kill for you?)

He may kill you, though it would break his heart to. And it would be no skin off his back to have someone killed for you if you wished it.

G = Give Up (What are they willing to sacrifice for you?)

His privacy. Petyr is a very private man, and to share the part of himself that he is when he’s alone should be considered a great privilege.

H = Harsh (How do they take to you mouthing off to them or saying something they don’t want to hear?)

He won’t like it, may even raise a hand to you, but he ultimately won’t hit you. The threat of it he feels is enough.

I = Inseparable (What are they like when you’re not with them? Do they check in on you constantly, or feel lost without you?)

He checks in on your whereabouts when you’re not with him, and as long as you’re not in bad company, he largely leaves it at that.

J = Jilted (How do they act when met with rejection from you?)

It will likely only make him more determined that you are to be his. He’ll double his efforts to win your affections.

K = Kidnap (Would they ever abduct you just to have you to themselves for a while?)

Personally, no, but he would have someone do it for him and have you brought to him.

L = Lines (Do they cross lines with you? What ones? Is it something they know they’re doing?)

Probably, but he really doesn’t care, as long as he’s careful not to cross the wrong line. Though he does like to toe the line from time to time to see how much he can get away with.

M = Manipulation (Would they manipulate you? How? And would you realize that’s what was happening?)

Yes, but he’s so skilled at the art of manipulation that it’d be hard for you to tell he was until it was too late.

N = Naive (Do they like you pliant or do they prefer you to challenge them?)

He doesn’t mind some challenge. That only makes you more alluring to him, but be careful not to push him too far.

O = Ownership (Do they feel possessive of you? How do they act when you’re around others?)

He’s very possessive of you. You are his and only his. He’ll be polite about it in front of others, but angry when it’s just the two of you. He won’t blame you, but the anger will simmer in him for a while.

P = Petulant (Are they moody? Easy to anger? Or are they patient and forgiving around you?)

He can be moody, but he tries to only be sweet to you. He wants you to think he’s the perfect man.

Q = Quit (Would they quit any of their behaviors for you if you asked?)

He’d quit them, but only around you. You may be able to change how he acts with you, but outside of your interactions, he’s a tough man to change.

R = Rules (Would they have rules for you? Brainwash you? Teach you the right way to be theirs?)

He’d pretty much let you have your freedom, but slowly things would start to creep in and change, offering you less and less freedoms.

S = Stalker (Would they stalk you? How far would it go?)

His spies would. He wants to know your routines, what you like, etc. He has to get to know you to get you to love the version of him that he’s crafted to be perfect for you.

T = Target (What do they wish to do to you? How twisted are their ideals?)

He just wishes to possess you, to get you to love him fiercely and devotedly.

U = Utopia (How much effort do they put into making you happy?)

A considerable amount. You’re not going to love him if all he does is make you miserable. So your happiness is a priority for him.

V = Violence (Would they ever be violent with you?)

He’d very much try not to be. He doesn’t want to hurt his love, but sometimes his frustrations boil over and he has to remind himself of that.

W = Will (Would they ever do anything against your will?)

More than likely. If you have to be mad at him for a bit to end up at his ultimate goal of getting you to be his, so be it. He’ll find a way to get you to come around.

X = Xoanon (Would they revere or worship you? To what length would they go to win you over?)

He goes to great lengths to win you over. He doesn’t quite worship you, but it feels like something akin to that.

Y = Yowl (Do they ever make you cry? Do they enjoy your tears?)

He doesn’t, or tries exceptionally hard not to at least. He doesn’t like tears, as they tend to anger him. They show weakness and he doesn’t want you to be weak.

Z = Zenith (Would they ever break you just so you’d stay with them?)

Possibly, if he wasn’t keen to give up on making you his, but you simply wouldn’t learn any other way.

For @arianadevareux