#well that got slightly out of hand

[morganali-writes]

Domestic Impropriety

Evening was settling quickly over Ishgard by the time Artoirel arrived at the Fortemps manor, and glad he was to be, at last, out of the blizzard that was beginning to pick up in earnest. Once divested of his knight’s attire, he made a point to head directly to the parlour – given the weather, he had hopes he would find a certain person there.

And there indeed she was. With one of the chaise lounges pulled up close to the fire and a blanket wrapped around her, Cessalie lounged with her feet tucked beneath her, a needle and garment in hand.

“There you are,” she said, a smile brightening her face as she waved with the hand that still held the needle. “Welcome home.” Something warmed in his chest at her words. He felt his own face draw into a lopsided grin of its own accord, and he strode over to where she sat, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“All is well at Falcon’s Nest, I take it?” flinching, he turned and realised they were hardly as alone has he had assumed. On the opposite side of the room, not quite so close to the fire, his father glanced up at him over the book he was reading.

“It is, the restoration works are progressing well – and Ser Redwald sends his regards,” he replied, lowering himself to the end of the chaise lounge. “Very good.” Lord Edmont nodded and turned back to his book. Artoirel waited a long moment, then turned back to where Cessalie sat in her cocoon of blankets, quietly smiling to herself as she made very quick, practiced stitches.

“What are you about this evening?” he said softly, and though her eyes did not leave her work, she turned herself towards him. “Alas, nothing terribly glamorous – even the Warrior of Light needs to mend her unmentionables,” she said, shooting him a sly look, then sighed. “These garments are quite worn, I truly ought to replace them – but one does not quickly forget poverty, I’m afraid.” “Ah, I see,” he said, floundering for a moment. She pulled tight a knot on the garment she was currently mending (a stocking, it appeared), and clipped the trailing thread.

“Hm, I seem to have all but trapped myself,” she said with a chuckle, as she stretched to reach her next garment. “Would you pass me that chemise, on the top of the pile there?” “It would be my pleasure,” he replied with a laugh, and reached for the garment in question. As he took the chemise in hand, trying not to ponder it overmuch, he found himself instead puzzled by the texture of it. The fabric was worn of course, that much she had said, but there was something about it that didn’t feel quite right. He continued to stare at the garment after handing it over, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.

“Is aught amiss?” Artoirel shook himself. “No, nothing of import, only…” he frowned again, perplexed. “Of what fabric are these garments made?” “Pardon?” said Cessalie, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “I—ah, linen? Hm.” Understanding dawned on him, and he nodded. “Linen. It is of little wonder then that you feel the cold so acutely here – have you any woollen garments?” She hesitated, then averted her gaze. “I am embarrassed to admit it, but no – outer clothes notwithstanding of course. Now I feel quite the fool, but then Ul’dah was never so cold as this.” “No, I imagine not,” Artoirel said with a soft smile, before taking her hand in his. “I fear the tailors and dressmakers of the Crozier will have all ceased trading for the evening, but we shall have to get you some more appropriate garments on the morrow – you will catch your death, otherwise.” She narrowed her eyes at him then, a coy smile crossed her face.

“Artoirel de Fortemps, are you offering to take me shopping for undergarments?” she said, lifting her hand to her lips in mock surprise. Feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment, he grimaced.

“Cessalie.” “Artie.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, defeated. This is my life now, he supposed. “Must you delight in teasing me so?” he said, exasperated, and she gave a soft, little laugh that went some way to softening his mood. “I think I must, you do blush so prettily when you’re flustered.” She said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Eughhh.” Startled, the both of them turned and noted Emmanellain, who also had evidently been there playing cards with Honoroit for some time. “I pray you, find yourselves a private room, I’m like to be ill.”

With a weary sigh, Edmont closed his book with a decisive thump and stood. “While I do not necessarily disagree with your brother’s sentiment,” he said, levelling a resigned look at Artoirel, “I would prefer it if you were married first. Good night, you two.” He made a slight bow in Cessalie’s direction, then made his way out of the room, summoning an indignant Emmanellain as he went, and leaving them quite alone.

“Fury, take me,” Artoirel said weakly, hiding his burning face in his hands. “O-oh.” He looked to Cessalie through his fingers, who looked sheepishly back. A small smile crept onto her lips, then a grin – before giving way to mirthful laughter. His own mortification yielding to her joyful mien, he helplessly laughed along with her.

Still laughing, she took his hands and pulled him closer, drawing him in for a kiss. He could feel her smile even as she pressed her lips to his. Leaning in further, he pulled her into his arms, blanket and all, delighting in the way she tucked her face into the crook of his neck.

“You must think me terribly improper, I fear I shall never learn,” she said, leaning into his embrace. “Perhaps, but I should not change a thing about you,” he said, placing another kiss on the top of her head. “And I defy anyone to suggest that the Warrior of Light and saviour of Ishgard should be admonished because of her manners.” Her breath tickled his neck as she laughed.

After a time, she sighed in contentment. “Woollen undergarments may be a pressing concern for the morrow, but I think I’d much rather have you keep me warm instead.” Artoirel inhaled a sharp breath. “I fear we would make quite a scene should I wrap myself about you thus in a more public sphere.” “Hah, true enough,” she admitted. “Might I then ask a favour?” Her voice was less confident this time, almost shy. He glanced down at her. “You may ask me anything.”

“Would you lend me a nightshirt?” she stared up at him with eyes half-lidded, and he felt something catch in his throat. “I… certainly, though I fear you will drown in fabric.” “That’s quite alright, I shall be quite warm then.” “I dare say you will be,” he murmured, unable to quit his gaze from hers. “I think I should like to see that.”

“What if I showed you?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Cessalie…” “Too forward?” “No, but I fear should I see you thus, I might take you in my arms and do something incredibly reckless.” A slow, lazy grin crossed her face, and his heart beat faster in his chest. “Now that I would quite like to see.” Abruptly she stood, one hand catching her blanket around her like a cape, and the other cupping his cheek.

“Come on then,” she said, leaning down to briefly touch her lips to his, and he felt as if he were a fly, caught in her web. “Fetch me a nightshirt whilst I gather my mending and bring it to my chambers.”

“As you command,” he replied, voice atremble. He stood then, bowed slightly to her, then quietly willed himself to leave the room at a sensible and measured pace.

Minutes or perhaps hours later, he stood at her bedroom door, woollen nightshirt in hand. He knocked once, twice, and after an interminably long moment, the door cracked open. With a twinkle in her eye and a mischievous smile on her lips, she took the proffered garment. “Wait here, I’ll be just a moment,” she said, and shut the door again.

The hallway was quiet while he waited. The clock that sat in the main hall was ticking away the seconds – he could feel his own nerves winding tighter and tighter as the minutes passed.

“You can come in, now,” Cessalie called through the closed door, and he all but jumped out of his skin. Looking this way and that, he took a deep breath, then reached for the door handle and slipped into her room.

Not seeing her immediately, he cast his gaze around the room. Books piled on the bedside table, unlabelled potions and tinctures and sheeves of handwritten notes were scattered about the small bureau that sat next to the narrow window. The blanket she had worn before, now tossed upon an unmade bed. There were flowers and pretty trinkets decorating the shelves, as well. Artoirel smiled to see them, and to see how she’d made the space an extension of herself.

“Ahem.” His eyes focused on the sound of her voice, and he saw her standing at the threshold of the adjoining room.

Wearing naught but his nightshirt.

She stretched her arms out, and the sleeves hung over her hands – laughing, she waved about the excess fabric, before doing a little twirl – causing the fabric that hung to her knees to flare slightly as she moved.

“What do you think?” she said, working to roll up the far too long sleeves to a more manageable length. Artoirel took a breath, not realising he had been holding it since she appeared.

“I think…” he trailed off, letting his eyes drift down the vision before him. The neckline was too wide, of course, and was threatening to slip off her shoulder. I adore you, he thought. You are precious. She stared up at him expectantly, her cheeks rosy and flushed.

“I think that…” that I love you, he thought. “You–  you what?” her eyes were wide, and he blinked. Had his own lips betrayed his thoughts? Heat crept up his neck. “Oh, Halone… I think that I love you,” he repeated. Slowly she raised her hand to cover her mouth.

“You were right,” she said, her voice a tremulous murmur, “that was incredibly reckless of you.” Her eyes searched his for any sort of deceit or trickery, and he hoped that his sincerity was written plain for her to see. It pained him to see how uncertain she was when it came to genuine affection, and he hoped he might redress the balance going forward.

After a moment, she took a step towards him. “Truthfully?” she said, her brow creased in worry at how he might answer her. He took the hand that hovered near her lips and pressed his lips lightly to her fingers. “On my honour as a knight,” he replied. “I shall never lie to you about such things.” Cessalie’s faced flushed red, and she gave a nervous, little laugh.

“Good. I’m glad.” Drawing closer, she leaned her head on his chest. “Forgive me, you’ve caught me quite by surprise. I need time to sort out how I feel.” Artoirel chuckled and enveloped her in a hug. “There is naught to forgive, I quite surprised myself as well. You do not owe me a response, heartfelt or otherwise.” She relaxed in his arms, and he felt her arms snake around his waist. “Thank you,” she sighed into the fur collar of his coat.

“And here I had thought to seduce you,” she said, rallying her confidence once more, peering up at him with a wistful smile. “You most certainly did, have no fear of that,” he laughed. “Perhaps then, I should take my leave before you can seduce me further. I’ll not invite a scandal this night.” “No, indeed.” She said with a chuckle. “Go and rest, my dear, we can always cause a scandal on the morrow.”

“After all,” she said with a sly grin, “You did offer to take me shopping for undergarments.”

[lucydoodlessometimes]

so... child soldiers, huh?

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

Midoriya Izuku: Narrative Structures and Character's Emotion(al Repression)

Repression as A Story In Four Acts.

Or: Reaching Tenku to Save Tenko.

Izuku hasn't accomplished his goal of saving Tenko because according to literally every law of storytelling, he has yet more internal conflicts to solve, which he hasn’t addressed due to his nature of repression, which itself comes from other fatal flaws. Therefore, Tenko’s salvation, which should’ve been the “reward” for Izuku’s difficulties, is now another obstacle at the “end” of act 3 before Act 4 eventually begins. To elaborate:

BNHA, as of now, is split in three sagas — U.A. Beginnings (001-099); Rise of Villains (100-306) and; Final War (307-onwards); similar to the three-act structure in the west. However, by splitting Act 3 into Act 4; we meet East Asia's method of splitting a narrative: Kishōtenketsu. Using the Hero's Journey wheel as a counterpart, roughly we have:

Act 1/Kiku (起句) — Call to adventure, the inticing incidents and stage's set-up for;

Act 2/Shōku (承句) — The rising action; true conflict that will soon culminate, leading to the climax, so we head into:

Act 3/Tenku (転句) — The transformation that leads to the resolution of conflicts, so the story meets the denouement;

Act 4/Kekku (結句): the epilogue. If the consequences must come to fruition, the results must bloom at the end as it wraps up.

Similarly, BNHA presents the classic Four Conflicts: Against Man and Society; All For One and the hero world; Nature, the nature of Quirks; and Self, arguably the most important of them all.

As such, Izuku’s story is easier to see when split into these acts, and so are his conflicts. Planting this seed: Izuku wants to be a hero, but being quirkless is his status quo until the Sludge Villain incident. Presenting the question: How can Midoriya Izuku be a hero? Katsuki being attacked and All Might’s offer are the inciting incidents, and everything from USJ onwards are his brushes to growing conflicts that grow into the Kamino Incident, ending his personal arc in Act 1/Start of Act 2 during Deku vs. Kacchan 2 and The Three.

The rising actions and the new development from Kamino, lead to the rush to control One For All, becoming a new Symbol and what that entails, and more subtly, fixing his and Katsuki’s relationship (i’ll get to this one. oh boy i’ll get to this one soon.) These are Izuku’s conflicts.

His role as one as Toshinori's successor officially puts in center stage of the conflict alongside Katsuki (subtly, also a successor, permanent deuteragonist) and Tenko (foil, recurring antagonist, and the Big Bad’s successor). If controlling the current form of OFA was already accomplished (45% at least), it needes to evolve into another phase; one that ties with his fatal flaws and challenges his virtues. As such: Overhaul Arc shows Eri’s ordeal, Sir Nighteye’s doubts of AM’s choice, and subsequent death (the former conflicts), and Joint Training Arc introduces unlocking of Black Whip (his latter one) are his turning points.

All feed into his insecurities and repression of emotions such as (oftentimes righteous) anger, uncertainty, vulnerability and heartbreak. He doesn’t solve these conflicts just yet, instead choosing to brush it away or let them play out as they happen, a passive instance. For the former arc, it’s understandable because he was under Sir Nighteye’s internship orders, but the latter is a special case, as it ties with an emotional conflict in which we only saw his thoughts at the very beginning of the turning point.

Which, before entering Arc 3, also brings me to another topic: Narrative rewards and punishments.

The root of Izuku's character is stubbornness: When Izuku sticks to the convictions he believes in, and he does it stubbornly, often the hopeful narrative of Boku no Hero Academia rewards him, but when he goes against it (contradicting his morality and/or the story’s messages), the punishment ends up being severe. He’s far from the only example, but he’s the most prominent one. As such, BNHA prides itself in introspection of motivations and embracing every emotion and experiences as stepping stones to be the greatest you can be.

Izuku… Stubbornly also hasn’t gotten that kind of introspection yet. Keyword being yet. He's the character we know little about despite spending so much time in his point of view, and it's deliberate. The few moments he does, is when the roots of his insecurities are reinforced, or when he's dealing with someone else’s obstacle. Talk about others and avoid thinking about yourself.

If I were to describe Izuku; the best descriptors would be: kind, but melancholic. Altruistic, grateful, mostly selfless, but will destroy himself for others without realizing. Reckless, sticks to his values. Competitive and a little envious, but it's born out of admiration, pride and love. But overall, keeps so close to his chest while spouting praises for others out of what he wished he had before.

But in one sentence? This little shit is such a stubborn mule it'd get him killed.

The best example is from Act 1 itself, Summer Training Camp arc. In this, we see the first glimpse of someone he should strive to be: Someone who wins to save people. His reward is saving Kota and Tokoyami, but his recklessness in reaching for Katsuki alone and without a plan ends up costing him a win. The tally goes to the League of Villains; not a total disaster, but they got what they wanted in the end.

Happens again in Act 2, by failing to rescue Eri the first time he and Mirio meet her. Both find out she was tied to Overhaul’s operation, and the feeling of guilt is one of the reasons that makes them want to try again. Somewhat related to Izuku, it’s Sir Nighteye’s conviction that Izuku is unworthy that proves years of fatalistic views wrong too late, as his unwillingness to see what makes Izuku a good choice ends up being corrected as he’s already mortally wounded.

Gentle, La Brava and Lady Nagant are also good examples of the narrative punishing these characters for their nihilistic views, and when they’re shown they have another choice, the story takes them out and as they’ve changed their minds to a more hopeful view, gives them another chance in Act 3. After all, second chances and atonements are Boku no Hero’s cup of tea (Sir Nighteye's wasted his in fatality, stubbornness, unwillingness to change). Which is why characters like Muscular, Ending and the Sludge Villain are not given the grace of a proper sendoff, and All For One got such a rather undignified finale.

Returning to Izuku: Because his internal conflicts weren't challenged yet, and therefore the only visible developments he’s gotten were merely power upgrades, this bites him back by the end of Act 2 and continues in Act 3, the first hit being the most critical one. The things he repressed for the sake of others aren’t willing to stay like that anymore. Furthermore, going against his one consistent conviction and fighting Tenko with tunnel vision on winning, regardless of who needs saving, brings another conflict for him.

Izuku is trapped in Shōku. And that leads to Act 3, where his flaws branch out into four main symptoms amplified by trauma in the Dark Hero Arc, which remain, at the time of this writing, unsolved:

Detachment, fueled by selflessness. Choosing to take every risk on his own, Izuku has thoroughly detached his wants and needs from each other and himself. By not letting others get hurt, that means he doesn’t care if he himself gets hurt anymore, accidentally making himself a martyr. Detaching himself could arguably be the reason he doesn't acknowledge Katsuki at all in the battlefield, or doesn't really ponder on what happens to the vestiges/quirks when destroying AFO (and lets Tenko... well, we'll get there.) All For One vs. One For All.

Recklessness: Izuku’s naturally that by design, and it’s treated as the mark of a hero: "intervening even when they don’t want your help". At its most extreme, however, he goes alone, so Izuku can’t rely on others for help, and the way he wants to fix everything turns into his modus operandi on overdrive. Despite being careful and calculated, he ignores who and what he needs to continue, until he physically can’t. He’s on the other side of that sentence without realizing it. Suicidal recklessness.

Arrogance: A fatal flaw hidden in him but mirrored in his biggest foil. By believing he’s the only person that can handle AFO, hiding all his emotions and trying to be pragmatic, he becomes increasingly arrogant. “All of you, you can’t keep up”, a sentence fitting for someone like Katsuki, not Izuku. He still shows shades of this, even as others try to convince him he's not alone, and the narrative proves him wrong by letting other characters interfere.

Finally, the ropes of repression. Izuku isn’t a very introspective character for himself; he’s a very unreliable narrator because he never stops to fully talk about what he feels; the last time we got something like that was in Deku vs. Kacchan 2. As Deku, he wants to be strong, dependant, not let others worry about himself. As Midoriya, he’s the friend who lends you a shoulder to cry on (and cries along), gives you good advice, is there for you. But who is he as Izuku?

What are his other interests, his feelings on society, or on what is and isn’t fair? More recently, Katsuki’s apology, death, what does that mean for them now? Tenko’s identity as that kid who was crying and as Tomura, who hurt the people he loves, what does he think? Toshinori, as someone who was an idol and now it’s a label closer than mentor-mentee, almost dying? He hasn’t had time to reflect on them, but only recently Izuku's lack of introspection has become noticeable for the audience- placing us in Katsuki's shoes; intuitively, we know what Izuku's gonna do, but can we really tell what Izuku's currently thinking? If at all?

Not-so-recently (for the audience), he’s "moved on" very quickly from Lady Nagant blowing up in his face, seeing All For One single him out as a target, two mobs being so hostile Danger Sense got triggered, and Aoyama's role as a traitor. Except, not really. Everything Izuku’s gone through has been locked in a vault, and despite every character being reactive to it, Izuku doesn’t allow himself to dwell on anything that’ll make him remotely angry or sad anymore. There is one exception and even then Mirio had to prevent him from letting it out.

By failing to start introspecting in Act 2 in any of these, they bring back his internal conflicts, while adding a new two new ones to a pre-existing one, leading us to the Classic Man vs. Conflict part of this meta:

Control One For All (Man vs. Nature): Izuku had the theoretic part of it down; using it as his tools to help, but being Quirkless for so long means he lacked the intuitive part of it; the one that treats Quirks as muscle memories instead. So instead of second nature, they’re more like advisor crutches that can easily lose control; and momentarily as it was, they have, in Deku vs. All For One.

He controls only the mechanics, but never secured himself in believing they’re his power. And since Izuku is easily someone willing to give more than he should, it’s very representative that in giving up One For All, Izuku essentially embodied the definition of “you give an inch, they take a mile”. Or better, you give Tenko a hand, All For One takes an arm. It wasn’t the wrong choice, but an easy trap he fell in.

Izuku, while able to work out the theory, never really gained full control of a Quirk supposedly his own. Which is why it’s so odd his Quirk gets taken away now. Whether he shall remain Quirkless or receive a version of OFA, remains to be seen. I believe it isn't the last of OFA yet, but it's always a 50/50 chance.

Being a future Symbol of Peace (Man vs. Society/Men):

“Men are not born equal. That is the lesson [Izuku] learned at the age of four.”

At this point, “being a symbol” means something else now. For this to even have a shot of happening, Izuku has to find out what being a hero means, by including him as a person in the narrative. And for that, All For One, as the man representative of society’s worst symptoms, needed to go.

It’s no coincidence he and Izuku have many similarities, as both have a fascination with Quirks, are the only ones capable of wielding multiple at once, and grew as lonely; AFO by having a Quirk, Izuku by lacking one. Izuku can be possessive, he recognizes this as an ugly trait, but AFO acts out and relishes in it. It makes too much sense that he's one of the few characters able to lay a hand on AFO; If Yoichi is the version of Izuku whose love wasn't strong enough to reach out, AFO is the version of Izuku lacking understanding, love or empathy.

We Are Here and Midoriya Izuku: Rising show he is by all accounts considered one by every character, but his Rising isn’t finished until he finds out what being a hero means to him, without disregarding his personhood, and realizing he was always one, Quirk or not. He has succeeded in proving society wrong, and proved AFO wrong in every way that mattered. A quirkless nobody defeating the Demon Lord wannabe.

As stated in a previous post of mine, Izuku’s own Rising chapter is the opposite of his Origin because now everyone supports him, roots for him. Despite being weak, he has the strength to get back up and try to do his best… But this isn’t his best right now, which is why Izuku’s Rising isn’t finished.

Control your heart/His relationship with Katsuki/Saving Tenko (Man vs. Self):

This is Izuku’s true conflict; the question of his own personhood tied to the worthiness of his dreams and feelings.

“Can someone be a hero, even without a Quirk?”

Starting with the first conflict, from That Which Is Inherited to The New Power and All For One, “control your heart” are introduced as new arc words for Izuku himself; and a foreshadowing of the problems he’ll face when not addressed. In fact, Izuku’s aware the trigger for Black Whip must’ve had an external factor. Whether he’s oblivious or willfully ignoring what exactly happened is unclear, but he’s at least aware of who triggered it. And not thinking about it only makes Katsuki suffer the brunt of it, his Achilles’ Heel.

The second is the constant conflict since MI: Origin— Izuku isn’t someone blind to Katsuki’s flaws; in fact he’s the most aware of them, despite fandom perception. The thing that a lot of readers seem to miss is that he admires all of Katsuki, even if he was envious of him, and as those flaws ended up causing him a lot of pain. Which is noticeable the lack of interactions on Izuku’s part upon rewatching the first two acts as he was often the one seeking a relationship with Katsuki, while currently it’s the other way around.

It’s not a coincidence but a red sign; a herring or a flag, depending on the ending of One For All vs. All For One: Despite the bullying, Izuku still chose to perceive Katsuki’s good and heroic traits, when by all accounts he’s within his rights to refuse Katsuki in his life. I bring this up because Izuku and Katsuki are the main foils of the story… Which also makes Katsuki a foil of Tenko’s. This is an interesting factor. Izuku could’ve chosen to react to Katsuki’s apology then and there, but there might be three reasons not to:

The emotional conflict parallels Deku vs. Kacchan 2; Act 1’s turning point for the story was Kamino, but the incident pushes them together. Izuku and Katsuki’s relationship is the true turning point of the story as a whole because they’re the ones who fully feel the effects of the incident. The side effect intrinsically ties them, as a unit, to the main plot. Their choices are the true climax of the story.

Izuku forgiving Katsuki before fighting Tenko reveals Tenko’s fate or worse, seals it in a worse one. He hasn’t processed it, and intuitively, we know Izuku will do it, but to have it happen right before confronting Tenko means his actions are downplayed. Everything Izuku did would be a given, and meaningless. What does it mean to give a hand to someone in pain, when this person hurts you? He wanted to save Tenko, but wouldn’t that mean accepting that crying kid is also the man who hurt the ones he loves?

Izuku controlling his emotions isn’t just about Katsuki. He’s a huge trigger for his feelings… Including what he doesn’t like feeling. Repressing everything, detaching himself from that kid who once tried defending a kid in a playground despite having no Quirks, only means Izuku isn’t doing his best. That’s the mask of the “Deku, who’s strong, who’s fine, who can do everything, who always does his best”. Izuku reaching out to Tenko meant to share that sadness, the burdens from when they were young. Tenko did, so in theory, he shed the Shigaraki Tomura mask, but Izuku didn’t, so he’s still bottling his emotions to its breaking point.

So. Izuku's still in his Shōku. But we’re stuck in Act 3. Tenku (heh). Not enough resolutions, no conflicts fully solved. The Status Quo was challenged, changed? But where’s Izuku’s own turning point? The lack of introspections turns what should be Izuku’s rewards for going through the hero’s journey into an obstacle yet to be surpassed. His emotions are the turning point of the entire story, after all, right?

Narratively, Izuku has internally failed to pass the third part of the Kishōtenketsu: Transformation. His emotional conflicts weren’t dwelled on, and as such, he could only do so much to save Tenko. He can’t relate to Shigaraki Tomura, only Shimura Tenko, the crying kid. Every person is a hero in their own story, but anyone can be a villain. It’s what makes us connect to them. Izuku refused until he couldn’t anymore.

For comparison: Ochako doesn't know Toga Himiko, but her tears humanized her in Ochako's view; she wants to know what does Himiko value, what drove her to be who she is. Shoto doesn't truly know Touya, but knows the path it took for him to become Dabi, and wants to reconnect with his brother, at least a little. Shoji and Koda don't agree with Spinner but it's because they know what drives the mob to follow him. Hizashi doesn't see Shirakumo in Kurogiri but Aizawa does, which is why he becomes crucial in the endgame. All of them have a chance at surviving.

As it is, Shigaraki Tomura decayed, marked by All For One. Does that Izuku doing his best lead to a sacrifice? Neither heroes nor villains win. Which brings us back to reward and punishment: Izuku’s punishment for not solving his conflicts, means reaching out to Tenko was a doomed plan from the very beginning. His heart was not controlled while he had One For All, he’s unconvinced he could be a hero from the beginning despite earning his title, and he failed to save that crying kid. Using a power meant to save.

What message would that bring then? Both for a groomed child to believe he was born a monster, to die knowing that was true, that he never had a choice? Does that mean he could've only found peace in his death? And what does that mean for Izuku, who wanted to avoid an outcome where that kid died? Especially when Izuku previously would be fighting tooth and nails, blood, sweat and (many) tears to stop Tenko from destroying himself?

The story isn’t black and white, but it has always depicted abuse victims and their survivors respectfully, and the idea of the child that needed saving the most, dying before a chance of redemption goes against one message: That anyone can, and deserves to be a hero, in any way, shape or form. To have that glimmer of hope, of faith. It brings me the quote:

"Tenko, do you still want to be a hero?"

If Tenko doesn't get a choice, or a chance to respond, that means Izuku wasn’t doing his best just yet.

This enters prediction territory, which I don't usually make, but. In my honest opinion?

I think this is the moment Izuku finally reaches Tenku —Insecurities and repression of righteous anger, over not being able to keep his promise of saving that kid, uncertainty, for not being able to be a hero that saves people with a smile, vulnerability over realizing this is it, this “was the last act” of Hero Deku, and heartbreak. How can he call himself a hero if he can’t save a single child? Whether he likes it or not, now this is his Tenku, because Midoriya Izuku doesn’t walk away from this without being able to save Tenko.

He can’t; otherwise he can’t be considered the World’s Greatest Hero, if he doesn’t fulfill his half of “Win to Save, Save to Win”. That means a perfect victory, minimal to no casualties, is unachievable. All For One wins even if he loses, name tied to Shigaraki Tomura, the Symbol of Fear. He doesn’t get One For All, but gets to take down Tenko with him, so Tenko doesn't get to die free, even as a sacrifice of his choice. Unlike Eri, who was freed from the shackles of Overhaul, Tenko didn't get that chance. The Shimura bloodline dies, and Izuku doesn't prove their generation is different, better than the previous heroes. That doesn't sound fair, does it?

A failure he seemingly couldn’t avoid, or one he could’ve but was unable to? The lowest point Izuku can face, where he’s faced with the worst things that can happen to him has happened twice already in the same arc already; if we consider the time in-universe, the time between Katsuki’s death and Tenko’s death was at worst in the same hour. With everything that happened since the start of this saga; it’s been at best a month’s overdue of a breakdown. Thus, the missing introspection from him.

I believe it’s now beneficial that Izuku can't access One For All: there are no signs of the mask from “the strongest Hero who always does his best”— This is the Quirkless kid who wanted to save people with a smile. And if he can’t do that, does that mean he’s the useless Deku who can’t do anything?

Despite being more receptive to words, Izuku is a character who can't be trusted with what he says, instead what he does. He mumbles all he sees, cries rivers for others, but those green eyes will show you waters waiting to turn into a flooding storm. His actions will always overcompensate for his true thoughts he'd never share, because his thoughts only matter when you ask: What do you really know about Midoriya Izuku?

Nobody would have an answer, except for the one person who managed to misread him for ten years.

Izuku is by far the most reckless character, and stubborn to a fault. He'll pretend he's fine so others won't worry, so he can keep lying to himself a little more, but it's a mask to hide how much he's gonna hate himself, think he's a failure for this. Seeing him give up like that isn’t like him, now, is it? And that truth needs to come from the person, who, while not the only one to make Izuku question his worth, is the only one that can take him out of this mentality. Someone who matches that stubbornness, makes him listen to the truth. And makes him truly let the flood out, even if others think it unpleasant.

To counteract hopelessness, Izuku needs Katsuki. To finally ask out how any of what he experienced was fair. What good was all this pain. Why all of this, for a fight he lost this badly? For a person he couldn't save? For a dream that will never happen? For a Quirk that was never his, that he didn't get to keep? For a life where no one believed in him, were they proven right not to? Didn't he deserve better? He would know, having tried to leave him behind for a decade and realizing he can't go through it, when they just started being equals again.

If their feelings did become one, Katsuki then must be able to read Izuku like a notebook kept close to his chest and give him the right, truthful answers. Their walls aren't around anymore and Katsuki's now become the more emotionally open of the two, so he can make Izuku open up his damned heart and put it in his nerdy All Might’s shirt sleeve.

Izuku was Katsuki's hero before a Quirk. It's Izuku followed him when Katsuki didn't want him, who tried to save him even when he was told to take a swan dive off a roof. It's Izuku who still risked his life for a month to help others at the cost of his own health. If Izuku fought to save, to catch up to everyone so far ahead, why's he shutting down at the finishing line? Why stop fighting now?

In any case. Izuku needs to break down and someone to build himself up. Katsuki’s role as Izuku's closest one ends up being indispensable here— bringing in mind BK: Origin. If not seeking victory is unlike Katsuki, then so is Izuku thinking salvation’s too late. Contradicting their core beliefs is the lowest point, and pulling each other out of the spiral is the goal. The world and Class 1-A are connected to Izuku, but Izuku has yet to connect to himself. Both Tenko and Katsuki are now tied to One For All, through All For One and leftover embers, so why not make this count? From Katsuki, to Izuku, to Tenko.

These are guesses that rely on an outcome that might not happen in the story, but right now, I’d like to believe Izuku’s vault isn’t locked in nine keys anymore. There’s only him and a closed door, in a room that has always been locked, he never thought to open it before. Sometimes, it knocks, and he ignores it. And now it's time to open it and see what's on the other side, connecting him to what he’s been holding onto for the entirety of this story. Rewarding him one last time as he finally catches up.

By reaching Tenku, the story is allowed to continue, and wrap up in Kekku, the fourth act.

Izuku constantly breaks the expectations of everyone in-story. So maybe, he has some of One For All left. Maybe he’s somehow connected to it. Maybe he’ll keep it, receive a new version, or that’s One For All’s last hurrah. Maybe, there’s a chance he can take everything back, and start anew. But connecting to his emotions would help him understand Tenko. And in return, Tenko would finally take a comforting hand.

Either way, realizing what he’s been missing will be the key for the narrative to reconnect to him: Izuku doesn’t give up on anyone. There are no more people telling him what he’s supposed to be or what to do, no legacies tying him down— there’s only him, confronting the last of the Status Quo of the narrative. His actions are the ones that’ll restore this narrative to one of hope. Rain has finally faded to light. Starting with a death, ending with a rebirth.

The consequences will still exist, and must be faced by as many characters as possible, and if, hopefully when that happens, we can start to see the fruits of the turning points: Izuku’s own blooming realizations have to be the hand that’ll lead to Tenko’s Rising. Only then, the world they knew can rise from their mistakes. And maybe Izuku will be there, at peace, graduating with Class 1-A under cherry blossoms, knowing everyone gets to smile once again.

And only then, we'll know if Midoriya Izuku has gone further beyond his dreams of being a hero.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, even a little bit.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Processing some things

Also the fact that he's crouching with his hands on his knees is so cute to me for some reason?? He does this in another episode too - the one where Chakotay finds a symbol on an unknown planet...it's just so adorable to me. He could just lean down but no. Also of course his fingers are spread again - GOTTA utilize the whole hand whenever you do ANYTHING (if you're Tuvok)

[widevibratobitch]

aaaaaaand it's starting. mom's bestie just texted me asking to come over this weekend cause it's Bad and it's probably the last chance to talk and maybe say goodbye to my mom's husband and i need to take care of her. god. i wont get through this weekend unless im high or drunk istg.

[coolspacequips]

Rewatching bridgerton s1 since i first shotgunned it at the drop lol

Still so charming, the right side of campy in the context of regency, there’s some things that they were pretty heavy handed with but I can’t fault them, re things like having to make characters state their feminist agenda in awkward and broad terms, For The Casual Audience At Home Who Doesn’t Get The Genre

Still, my majorly unpopular opinion is that I don’t like Penelope at ALL lmao....... The reveal of who was writing the gossip rag rly shot my interest in the foot, and it took me a long time to pick up s2 bc of it, though I can at least appreciate that s2 did have a theme of ‘consequences’ for her, to some degree. It’s also the reason it’s taken me sooo long to rewatch s1, lmao, having to watch her ultimate act of cruelty, picking up her pen to play mean girl on anon and nearly ruining that girls life. Having to watch her pretend to befriend her all over again knowing what she’s going to do, in the end. Yuck! 

dgmr, I actually think there’s a lot of humor in Penelope and Eloise, and can def appreciate them as two privileged white children going into their woke teen era for the first time, while still being a little selfish about it. It’s realistic. I think watching them grow apart bc Eloise was ready to start maturing in her beliefs, while Penelope wasn’t, was also an interesting direction to take that in, though I’ve got Thoughts about how it unfolded... Hopefully, in her season, she’ll grow up and I’ll enjoy the romance, even if I can’t forgive her for outing that girl’s business, whether she was trying to baby trap a Bridgerton or not!!

Anyway, my real takeaway from Bridgerton is that every single old woman in this show ATE. Watching the primary trio of older women in this show bring so much dynamic life to their characters is so enjoyable, they played them perfectly from the start, and the depth and weight given to them beneath being genre standard Matchmaking Matriarchs is so cathartic even tho I am literally a young person  

[marinehero-a]

hrmmrmg,,,, young garp

[ragingtwilight]

brain is playdough. barely slept bc scooter is big enough to escape his bed box but small enough to steamroll if u roll on him in bed

he is persistent on sleeping up here w us auagdjdjbd

he likes beside my legs and my boyfriends hair for beds

also he lays horizontally on the bed to take up as much space as possible

he is evil

[theood]

falling down an aba therapy rabbit hole god so many people just treat autistic people with fluctuating abilities as subhuman there is always a better workaround for kid AND parent but really its not about the parent here its abt the kid

[foldingfittedsheets]

Every sales job I’ve worked has that one item. The white whale. The biggest ticket you can sell. The sale you brag about when you’re chatting with other industry people.

When I sold mattresses it was a split king adjustable base. That’s two twin extra long mattresses next to each other to make a king, but each side can move independently. They’re insanely expensive and honestly kind’ve impractical but it was the biggest ticket thing to sell.

When I sold sex toys though our white whale was the 20lb ass. It was a female pelvis, a cut out from the waist to the tops of the thighs. It was hyper realistic material and cost about $500. I definitely had bigger tickets but not in one item typically.

In my time at the sex shop, I sold three. Each time was completely different in terms of how the guy acted about buying it. The first man was a little embarrassed and shy about it. I was professional and supportive as I rang it up. Once I handed him the receipt he looked at the box. Then he looked at me.

If you’ve ever wondered how big a box has to be to fit a 20lb ass let me just tell you: it’s pretty damn big. It’s an uncomfortably large armful of box and every side has a picture of the sex toy inside on it. It’s not subtle.

“Could I get a bag….?”

There was no bag that existed that could possibly contain all that ass. “Hang on,” I told him.

I got scissors and tape and covered the box in cut up black bags. Looking relieved he picked up his purchase and left.

The next man to buy one carried it proudly to the counter; self assured and not embarrassed in the least. When I said I didn’t have a bag, but I could wrap it for him he gave a hearty shrug and hefted it into his arms, marching out the door with the butt on full display.

The last man to get one was just kind’ve an odd guy. Not creepy, but eccentric. We got along great, and as I rang him up I said, “Well one guy wanted his taped over, and one guy carried it out. What would you prefer?”

“There’s no bags?”

“No store bags. I think our jumbo trash bags in the back might fit it….?” It seemed rude to suggest putting a $500 item into a trash bag, but he wasn’t bothered.

He considered this then said, “Bring me the trash bag.”

When I delivered it to him he still managed to surprise me. Instead of shoving the huge box into it he opened the box. He took out his new $500 sex toy, and all the little things it came with, tipping them unceremoniously into the trash bag.

“There! Now I don’t have to deal with the box later!”

I was slightly stunned but agreed that I could easily deal with the trash. Then in a move I still think about with delight he flung the trash bag over his shoulder like a Santa with a sack full of ass and sauntered out the door.

If this or my other escapades made you laugh you could pop a tip into my Ko-fi! For more like this check my tag "ffs foibles".

[painted-bees]

A quick, sloppy little comic about Magritte

(image description under the cut)

[Image Description: It's a vertical comic strip of 14 panels arranged one under the other. The style is realistic, done with sketchy lines in a dark burgundy. It is not colored or shaded and there is no background. The comic features the interactions of a couple, Magritte (also called Margie) and Rafael (also called Raf). Magritte is a young woman, she is wearing a baggy armhole tank top with a tight fitting black top underneath, shorts and boots. She has a messy bun and a small messenger bag slung over her left shoulder. Rafael is her partner, wearing baggy pants, sneakers, fingerless gloves, V-neck t-shirt and an open button-up jacket with a hoodie and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair has short side with long top bangs and a short goatee.

 (First panel): There's only Magritte visible from the waist up. Off screen, Raf says to someone else: “Magritte has our tickets.” Magritte is excited, looking straight forward. Her left hand in on her bag's strap, her right hand rummaging inside her bag. Magritte says: "Yeah! Even made sure to put them in my wallet so that I wouldn't- uh..."

 (Second panel): She is beginning to look concerned, now with her face turned to her back, both left hand holding the lip to open the bag wider and her right hand still rummaging inside. Magritte says: "wouldn't forget.... Hang on, it's not on it's usual pocket. Haha." The last is a nervous laughter.

 (Third panel): Magritte is kneeling on the ground. Rafael is standing to the side and behind her, only his feet visible. Magritte looks frantic, searching inside her bag. Her right arm is forearm deep digging in her bag. Magritte says: "It's definitely here-! It's the one thing I never forget 'cus I never take it out of my bag!" Rafael says, firmly: "Margie, when you took it out to put the tickets in, did you put the wallet back in the bag?" The letters are bolded, with the word "back" underlined for emphasis. Magritte says: "Give me some credit, there's no way I'm that stupid." The last three words are underlined for emphasis.

 (Fourth panel):  The scene has changed and now Magritte and Rafael are in a car. We see them from the passenger's side. Rafael is driving, looking straight ahead at the road. Magritte is hunched forward, hugging herself with the left hand. Her right hand is holding her head. She is looking out the passenger window, avoiding Raf.

 (Fifth panel):  Rafael turns slightly to look at Magritte.

 (Sixth panel):  The point of view is now a side profile view from the drivers side. Rafael has his left arm leaning on the open window, his right hand on the wheel. Magritte is hunched over facing the passenger window. Rafael says: "I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're worried about." Magritte says: "I can literally feel your disappointment."

 (Seventh panel): Back to the passengers side, Rafael is looking at the road. Magritte is frustrated, no longer leaning her head against her right hand and instead her hand is palm upwards. Rafael says: "Well, yes. It is a disappointing situation, but-" Magritte interrupts: "You'd think I'd be able to do the one thing I was asked to do-! That I'd at least learn from the last billion times I forgot shit. Rafael says, quieter: “that's not where I was going with this...”

(Eighth panel):  Magritte has her right hand holding her face with the palm on her cheek, left hand placing the tips of her fingers on her left temple and eye brows. She is frustrated and angry. Magritte says: "It's not like I've got anything more important rattling around in my brain.  But, for some reason, if it's not my music, or like.... food or something, then it's just not a priority. I can't make myself care enough to make it a priority!"

(Ninth panel): She now has both hands in front of her, elbows bent, finger extended in a vague hand gesture as if there was something in front of her. Magritte says: "I'm an adult in my 20s and I still manage my responsibilities like a child. I'd be more dependable if I could just stop and think for a second, but I'd probably forget to even breathe if it weren't for the..."

 (Tenth panel): Her frustrated expression turned to confusion. Her hands are still in the air in the same position as before. Magritte says:"... why are we parked?" Her noticing this stopped her rant.

(Eleventh panel): Magritte straightens up and faces the window entirely, left hand crossed over her body to lean on the car door. Rafael, off screen: "Margie." Magritte says: "Oh." Magritte's inner thoughts are written around her. "He stopped the car to scold me. No, not ‘scold’. Don't be a child about this. He's disappointed and just needs to make sure you understand so you can do better next ti-"

 (Twelfth panel): Magritte is still looking out the window, but now with a shocked expression. Rafael reached with his right hand, and its now resting gently on her upper back. Rafael interrupts her inner monologue with "I need you to stop repeating the shit your parents and teachers and such yelled at you growing up. They were wrong, and nothing you just said makes sense."

 (Thirteenth panel):  The perspective switches back to the driver's side profile. Rafael says: "A poor memory isn't synonymous with poor priorities. Nor does it speak to a lack of maturity. The priority was there, we just have to build a better habit of checking things before we leave the apartment. Both of us. It's gonna take time. You afford everyone else a ton of patience, all the time. Can you please afford some for yourself? The situation sucks, we were both looking forward to this. But it's not the end of the world. We didn't forget things on purpose. So let's take it easy and try to end the day on a good note. Alright?" Magritte says: "Okay... c-can we um...."

 (Fourteenth panel): Magritte has turned to face Rafael and her eyes are filled with tears and they're running down her cheeks.  Rafael looks startled, lifting his arm off Magritte's back. Magritte says: "Can we get some ice cream on the way back?" Rafael says: "O-of course!" End of description.]

This description was written and provided by Hiwi.

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[misclogarts]

consider: darcy with a metal claw

alternate versions under cut

[dredshirtroberts]

y'know that post that's like everyone's got their special super power or whatever, it might just look a little different from the super hero movies? right?

yeah my bio family's version of that is Impeccably Bad Timing

[kamitv]

▷ Impatience

Sypnosis . What happens when you come home late to them when they’re needy. / Pairings . (Separate) Gojo x f!reader, Geto x f!reader, Toji x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Nanami x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, non-curse au, dirty talk, unprotected sex, established relationships, oral sex f!receiving, dry humping, spitting, etc. / wc . 7.8k

[ MDNI ]

★ Gojo Satoru

“Fuuuuck, I missed you so much today,” He’d groan directly into your mouth, aching cock slipping in between your dripping folds so perfectly, “Missed’ this pussy, fuck.” Gojo whispers against your lips.

You’d let off a whine and your brows would pinch together at your boyfriend’s words, “W-Was only gone f-for an-, ahh, a-an hour longer, ‘Toru,” Your cunt narrowed around his long cock as he continued pushing into you.

To come home to a needy Gojo always ended the same— you laid out on the nearest surface beneath him as he worked his dick inside you and forced you to tell him about your extended day.

“Mhmm, I know,” He’d frown, sharp cerulean eyes boring down into your own so carefully, “Felt like forever though,” Gojo explains, nudging himself in inch by inch and watching how your eyes flicker and your lips part to release a sigh.

“You’re s-so,” Gojo rolls his hips down into you and you moan at the way his cock presses into the depths of your pussy— filling you up so perfectly, “Dramatic,” You finish, words coming out as a breathy moan.

Gojo bit his lower lip to conceal a smile. Oh how he loved watching your face contort into pleasure, he could watch the stress fading out of your eyes and being replaced with lust forever.

“M’not dramatic,” He huffs. The two of you were on your shared living room couch as he couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, needing to be inside you as quickly as possible.

Gojo’s got one hand intertwined with yours, pressing your fingers down into the soft couch cushion as he starts working up that pace of his.

“I missed my girlfriend,” Gojo groans, hips drawing back ever so slowly before he listens closely to the loud squelch of your cunt as his cock pushes back in. Biting his lip yet again, he smirks a bit, “Seems’ like she missed me too.”

Your neck arches a bit and you moan, the sound like music to his ears. “Toru, hahh-, you’re so big,” You mumble out due to the sheer stretch of his cock.

He can’t help but crack a full smile, his mind spinning a bit as your plush walls pulse around his veiny shaft. “Yeahh, but you take me so well every time, pretty girl,” Gojo praises, “Needy lil’ pussy’s always huggin’ my cock juuust right.”

Those lewd words of his make your face twist up but you can’t help but moan yet again as he slams down into you all at once.

“Hah, now tell me what held you up at work again?” Gojo requested amid his thrusts, despite watching you lose your breath.

You whine, “M-My coworker, mmgh-, h-he-“

Gojo’s cock twitched inside you, shifting slightly and purposefully angling into your cervix, “He?”

“M-Mmh-, y-yes Satoru, he!” You cry out, your hand squirming beneath his as Gojo’s larger fingers squeeze yours, “H-He… aagnh, fuck-, he messed up on some-, nngh, paperwork,” You just barely manage out.

The man above you tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and thrusts growing heavier. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just peers down at you with this look in his eyes.

You’d swear those blue irises of his were glowing with how intently he looked at you. Not that you were allowed much time to dissect that though as Gojo began fucking his cock down into you a bit harsher.

The sloppy sounds of his thrusts echoed throughout the room, all of which were followed by your moans and pleas for him to slow down.

Gojo swiftly moves his free hand in between your body and his, finding your clit without batting an eye and quickly pinching it, “So another man kept you from me?” He eventually breathes out.

He sounded upset, which kinda explains why he’s growing so rough with you— angry cockhead pounding into your cunt so viciously, as if to remind you of who you belong to.

“Toruu,” You whimper, “P-Please-, h-he’s, aah! H-He’s just a c-coworker,” You try your best to explain it to your lover but all your whines go through one ear and out the other.

Gojo rolls his eyes at you, “Yeah, a coworker who took up my girl’s time,” He argues, “Y’know what, call in sick tomorrow.”

“W-What?” You exhale heavily. With eyes as wide as ever, you couldn’t believe your boyfriend right now.

“W-What?” Gojo mocks you before you feel his thick cock shove impossibly deeper inside you, “You fuckin’ heard me. I said call in sick,” He voices out lowly. It was more of a command rather than a request at this point.

An airy little noise of disapproval leaves your throat, “Hhgn… I c-can’t just-“ His thumb swirls over your clit as his dick continues to split you open, your cunt wetting up his cock more and more with each thrust. Then his pelvis clashes down into yours a bit harder and your eyes roll back, “Ohmygod-“

“You can,” Gojo protests, pulling his hips back until he nearly slips out of you. Then he’s drilling right back in such an animalistic way.

“Toru,” You moan sweetly, his pupils dilating even more at the sound.

Even so, he has no plans on changing his mind, “Nah, it seems you forgot how I feel about other guys gettin’ in the way of us,” Gojo grunts. The sound of his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he beat his lengthy cock deep into your pussy was so overwhelming.

Your legs began to quicker a little and your back was lifting off the couch, “But h-he’s not-“

“Shut up,” Gojo cuts off. And you do, shutting your mouth obediently and whining instead, “Good girlll,” Gojo praises in that low voice of his. Then he pants and you swear you feel him in your stomach at this point, “Now hurry up ‘nd cum f’me, we gotta make up for lost time.”

★ Geto Suguru

Who allows you to get into your shared home perfectly fine at first, helping you take off your shoes, speaking in such a soft tone to you as he requests the events of your longer day.

You’d answer him honestly and explain how there was an error you had to stay and fix— to which Geto would soothe you with his understanding nature and gentle words.

Yet, the very second you sigh a little too heavily for his liking, he’s dragging you off to the bedroom and offering himself as a stress reliever.

“Suguruuu,” You mewl out, thighs spread over his handsome face with his big hands latched to your legs, fingers pressing into your skin as he aided you.

Those pretty purple-hued eyes of his would gaze right up into yours as you faced him, his tongue delving into your cunt and lapping up your sweetness into his mouth. His deep groans were like heaven against your cunt.

"Use me, princess," Geto groaned just before flattening his tongue against your dripping pussy and lapping it upward so very tenderly that it had you twitching and squirming above him.

You pant heavily, hips grinding over the wet pink muscle below for more friction in such a needy manner. Geto's thick fingers slid up along your body, caressing your tensed skin beneath his touch before he grabbed ahold of your hips and forced you to ride his face faster.

Although you couldn't see it, constantly was your boyfriend lifting his hips into the air as he feasted on your cunt like a man staved, his cock pressing up into the fabric of his sweats and giving himself the slightest bit of friction needed.

A sticky bit of precum was wetting up his boxers where his tip was, his fat cock so very desperate for you. But, he'd force himself to wait, your pleasure was more important at the moment.

Which is why his jaw is dropping a bit and his lips are cupping your pussy as he slurps your juices into his mouth, some slipping out from the corner of his lips and dribbling down his face. Not that he cared of course, especially not when you were above him whining and moaning so beautifully.

"Fuck Sugu-, that f-feels so good-, hhggn... ah!" You whine desperately above him. He's been at it for a minute now but his tongue is so damn skillful and long that you've got no idea how much time has truly passed.

Geto retracts his head only a little bit before spitting a fat glob of saliva up onto your cunt, "What a messy girl you are," He comments, his breath tickling the insides of your thighs, "Drippin' all into my mouth even when I'm not even moving."

Then he's leaning up again, his lips pressing into your sensitive clit and making you jump at the contact. A jolt of pleasure shoots throughout your body as he plants a bunch of messy kisses to your clit before suckling it into his mouth.

The tip of his tongue dashes around the sensitive bud and you reach a hand down, fingers curling into his hair as you roll your hips forward against his face for more.

"Mmmgh," Geto hums against you, "Yeahh, ride my fuckin' face, baby," He encourages, his words making you impossibly wetter as you do just that.

His tongue sinks back down and slithers into your cunt, searing against your plush walls as he moans into you. Your legs begin to close around his head and his fingers dig into your skin, "F-Fuck, m'gonna cum Sugu."

He just nods below you, lidded eyes revealing his zero intent on slowing down or stopping anytime soon. Your taste was so addicting to him, he could eat you out for hours and hours and never get tired.

Geto would have his mouth latched to your pussy until his jaw locked, and even then he'd still keep going. You could squirt on his face, beg him to give you a break, or even try pulling away from him but he'd always drag you back to him, tell you to take it, and request that you wet up his face again and again until he's satisfied.

Even as you cum in his mouth, his dick is throbbing in his sweats, twitching all over the place as it aches to be inside you. When you finally come undone and begin to pant softly above him, that's when he slows down.

"You can give me one more, yeah?" Geto hums with a sly smirk on his face, having yet to move an inch away from your pussy.

You shake your head, "M'tired Sugu..."

He frowns, "C'mon, you can't be tired after one orgasm. I thought we worked on that stamina of yours?" Geto whispers so softly as he turns slightly to kiss the inside of your thighs.

Pouting, "I had a long day..." You explain.

"Uhuh, and I'm trying to relieve you s'more baby," He tells you with an innocent look on his face, "C'mon, gimme a few more 'nd then I'll leave you alone."

"Suguru... you never leave me alone afterward," You huff out as you recall all the past times this exact scenario has played out.

Geto snickers, "That's because I've got a needy ass girl who likes beggin' for my cock afterward."

"I-," Your frown deepens, "I do not..."

"Yeahh ya' do..." He argues, "But it's alright, I like it when you're all needy 'nd start beggin' f'me."

With a slight groan, you shift above him a little, "...Shut up."

He tips his head back against the bed below and smiles, "Shut me up, c'mon. Put that pretty pussy on my mouth again."

Heat rushes to your face as he says that and almost instinctively, you just listen to him and sit right back down on his welcoming mouth.

★ Toji Fushiguro

Oh he hates when you come home late, as if he doesn’t do so himself all the damn time.

But the problem is that he’d be texting you begging-, no, never begging but, telling-, or ordering you to come home. Plethoras of I need you’s & look at what you’re doin’ to me’s followed by roughly five pictures of his thick and aggravatingly hard cock would ping to your phone while you’re in the middle of a meeting you didn’t have to attend.

And yes, you’ve explained this to your impatient partner Toji but does he care? Of course not.

So that’s why when you finally come home, you could barely into the damn house before he’s got that large veiny hand of his wrapped around your throat, tugging you into your household and slamming your body back against the front door to close it.

“Toji-“ You barely even get a chance to speak before he’s shoving his hot tongue into your mouth and shutting you up.

Your fiancé doesn’t care to hear your excuses, you’ve already texted them to him so, he’s grunting into your mouth and his free hand is moving to lock the door you’re up against.

His lips are hot and heavy against you, cologne dizzying your senses, bigger and much bulkier body pressing against you, and his hand limiting your oxygen.

“Told’ you I fuckin’ needed you,” Toji groans into your mouth as he trails a hand down and around your frame, quickly moving to grab a possessive hold of your ass, “Y’know how long I’ve been waitin’?”

You whine as his fingers curl into your ass cheek, squeezing so harshly before moving his lips to your jawline. “T-Toji, please, that meeting was-“

“Don’t care,” He hums so casually as he dips further down and to the side of your neck, sucking eagerly on your skin, “Forty-five fuckin’ minutes I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re such a big-, baby,” You stammer out as his hand shifts to your hip and he tugs you so that his one larger leg can press in between yours.

Toji scoffs against you and his hand leaves your throat, “I’m a big baby? Says the one who starts cryin’ from jus’ the tip.”

You grit your teeth and your hands go to his broad shoulders, “I do not…” You gasp as his thigh presses up against your clit, “You’re exaggeratin’.”

“Oh am I?” Toji chuckles, pulling his head up so he can look at your face, “Look at’cha now, can’t even handle a couple of kisses without lookin’ all fucked out.”

You frown at the man, “You couldn’t even let me get past the damn door before your hands were all over m-“

He shuts you up by lifting a hand to shove two thick fingers into your mouth, “God, you talk too much.”

A pout pulls at your lower lip as his fingers sink into your throat and press down on the back of your tongue. Your eyes gloss over a little and you gag.

His scared lip pulls up into a smirk, “Look at that fuckin’ pout… Aww, you mad?” Toji taunts.

God, you cannot stand him. Well, you can, that’s why you’ve got an engagement ring on your finger now— but still, he never fails to piss you off. And you’re pretty sure he likes pissing you off. He definitely gets a kick out of seeing you upset.

You move to graze his fingers with your teeth and he raises a brow.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Toji warns.

You groan against him before letting out a tired sigh and slithering your tongue in between the two fingers lodged in your mouth. He flashes a smile at you.

Then he nods approvingly, “Yeahhh, tha’s it.”

Oh his cock was in pain due to how hard he was. And it doesn’t get any better when you pull your head back a little before pushing forward, sucking on his fingers like the obedient little fiancée he knows you to be.

Toji licks his lips in almost slow motion, “So fuckin’ sexy, doll. Y’know that right?”

You smile against his fingers briefly before you nod, “Mhmm…”

He sighs heavily as he watches you suck on him, cock twitching in his sweatpants every time you throat his fingers and bat those pretty eyes of yours at him.

Then, he practically loses his mind when you pull off with a loud pop before taking his wrist into your hands, spitting on the tip of his fingers, and then taking them right back into your mouth.

Toji groans at the sight, “Nasty lil’ slut,” He huffs out, “Suckin’ on my fingers like it’s my cock… you’re enjoyin’ yourself, huh?”

You smile yet again and nod, “Mmh…”

“Fuck, keep lookin’ at me like that ‘nd I’m gonna cum without even seein’ your pussy.” He warns.

That makes you far more eager than he expects it to and you tilt your head to the side and really start sucking on his fingers like they’re his dick.

Then, you pull off for a moment just to speak, “Put three in my mouth,” You request, sticking your tongue out and watching how his lips part and he nearly moans at the request alone.

Toji tips his head back ever so slightly, eyes getting lower as he shifts to hold three fingers to your lips, “You’re so fuckin’ nasty,” He whispers before pushing his digits in and feeling you hum against him, “Gonna make me cum from this, pretty girl…”

You twist your head a bit as you suck on him, running your tongue all in between his fingers, drool escaping out the corner of your lips, and one of your hands suddenly dropping from his wrists. Toji’s eyes flicker when your free hand grabs ahold of his cock through his clothes.

“S-Shit,” He hisses, “God, I love you,” Toji hums as your hand strokes his aching cock through his clothing.

You were all too perfect for him, sucking on his fingers, rubbing your palm against the outline of his clothes— he swears he’s never found himself about to cum from something so simple before.

Your mouth furthers on his fingers and your hand moves to slip into his sweats, making his body jerk forward when you grab his thick cockhead and run your fingers over it so teasingly.

“Fuuuck,” He groans with his jaw going slack, “The hell would I do without you-, mgh,” He grunts deeply as you stroke his tip carefully.

Toji’s hips buck into your touch and he’s trying so hard not to moan— he was really aching for you more than he’d let on.

A messy slick of precum gets all over your hand but it makes it easier for you to start jerking him off, your mouth still latched to his fingers for a moment before you pull off.

Then you kiss him and smile, “C’mon big guy, go ahead ‘nd cum f’me so you can fuck me properly.”

Oh he practically loses his sanity at that, body folding over and toward you as he rests his forehead on your shoulder and finally lets out that sexy moan he’s been keeping in.

You snicker as you jerk him off and you can feel his cock throbbing in your hand, the messy sounds of your fingers sliding along his thick shaft filling the air.

Toji tilts his head and his lips press against your skin but he doesn’t kiss you, just opens his mouth and pants, “M’so close, doll. Don’t stop, d-don’t you fuckin’ stop,” He groans against your neck, breath hot and body tense because of you.

You smile, “You’re so needy Toji…”

His teeth graze your neck for a moment as he nearly sinks them into your skin, “Don’t call me fucking needy.”

“But you are,” You voice out so sensually that it makes his head spin

Toji grunts and you swear you hear a different noise almost escape the back of his throat as your hand squeezes his cock. “M’gonna fuck the shit outta’ you after this,” He huffs, “Gonna make sure you can’t even-, aagh…. walk tomorrow.” He stammers out.

You move to whisper in his ear, “Mhm, I’m sure you will.”

“I’ll show you fuckin’ needy,” Toji utters through gritted teeth, your hand just jerking and jerking— his legs were starting to stiffen because of how good it felt.

“Stop talkin’ ‘nd cum f’me so you can fill me up,” You whisper teasingly.

Toji’s eyes roll back, “I’ll put a baby in you if you keep talkin’ like that.”

“Maybe I want you to,” You giggle.

Then your hand focuses on his leaking tip and he just couldn’t take it anymore, groaning at both your skillful hand and your teasing words before hot and thick ropes of cum are spurting out.

His hands ball into tight fists as he does so and he pants heavily beside you. And his groans were so loud, he was really worked up.

In one quick motion, he lifts his head from your shoulder and presses his lips into yours, “Fuckin’ love you,” Toji grunts into you.

And you’re smiling against him, “Mhm, love’ you too, ya’ big baby.”

Toji scoffs before pulling away from your lips, “Alright, call me a big baby one more time ‘nd see what happens.”

You stare at the man, noticing the slight smirk he has, “…But Toji… you are a big baby— never satisfied ‘til you get what you want.”

“Seems like you’ve got the roles here reversed, doll,” He huffs before pecking your lips one more time, “S’fine tho’, I’ll fix that soon enough.”

★ Choso Kamo

Coming home late to your needy boyfriend Choso is never a bad thing. If anything, you think you stay longer at work on purpose to tease the man.

When you get home wee hours into the night, all the lights in the apartment would be off, there'd be practically no sound throughout the place and you'd wonder if Choso was sleeping.

Of no surprise to you, he isn't when you make your way to the living room and see his legs spread as wide as ever as he watches some show playing on the large TV on the wall across the room from him. You'd carefully make your way around the couch and notice he's got his eyes shut and his head is rested slightly back on the couch.

How cute, he'd fallen asleep waiting for you. So what do you do as his loving girlfriend? Well, you move to straddle him and take a very comfortable seat in his lap, his entire body jolting awake at your presence.

The smell of your perfume would seep into his nose, the feeling of your thighs spread over his would make his body tense, and the way you'd wrap your arms around his neck as he woke up would have him letting out a sigh of relief.

"Hi Cho," You'd greet so lovingly, voice caressing his ear just before you plant a cute lil' kiss near it.

Choso's hands move on instinct, two large pairs of fingers grabbing onto each side of your waist. Then, before he even gets a second to say anything, you're tipping your head down to kiss him on the side of his neck like you always do.

He groans immediately and you feel his cock jump at the sudden kiss. Then he's gripping onto your waist tighter, "Missed' you baby..." Choso tells you in that deep voice of his, the sound making you shift against him.

Your kisses trail up and you find yourself right below his jaw, "Missed you too, Cho."

He inhales sharply as you then lick him before sucking on his skin a little, "Yeah?" Choso teases, sleepily dragging his hands down a bit and grabbing ahold of your hips before squeezing, "You stayed at work longer than normal..."

"I know, I know, m'sorry," You coo as you try to make up for it with the constant kisses to his neck.

And he's so sensitive too, squirming all over the damn place as you do so. You could feel his dick growing beneath you and the feeling encouraged you to get more comfortable in his lap.

Then you lift your face from his neck and meet those low brown eyes of his, "Heard me? I said I'm sorry Cho."

He stares at you for a long moment before cocking his head to the side, "Are you?" Choso asks.

You blink, "Of course I am!"

"Prove it t'me, baby," Choso requests, voice as deep as ever.

You could feel yourself twitching every time he spoke, the look in his eyes and faint touch on your body driving you crazy. "How do you want me to prove it to you Cho, hm?" You ask softly.

Just as his voice made you ache, your voice made the tip of his cock leak. He's lifting his hips up into yours without a second thought and he doesn't miss the way you gasp softly at his clothed cock pressing up into your cunt.

"Ride me," Choso says calmly, "If you're sorry, make it up t'me by makin' me cum."

You smile at the man, "That's it? Choso you're acting like I haven't made you cum without even touching you before..."

He scoffs slightly and leans back into the couch so lazily— a sleepy, but sexy smile spreading across his face as he does so. “You tied me up, that was different, baby.”

Tilting your head, you smile back at him, “Was it?”

“Mhm, ‘nd when I say ride me,” Choso’s hands slither down along your legs before finding a place on your thighs, “I mean jus’ like this.”

You just stare with wide confused eyes, “…What do you mean just like this?”

“Dry hump me,” He explains with a slick smirk on his face.

A pout pulls at your lower lips, “Like a damn teenager Cho? Why can’t we just-“

“Knew you weren’t sorry for stayin’ out later,” Choso huffs out as he turns his head to the side.

Again, you stare at him— trying to figure out if he’s being for real right now or if he’s just teasing. But, based on the aching cock you’re sitting on top of and the way Choso’s fingers are holding your thighs, you get the idea that he’s dead serious.

So, with a sigh, “Fine,” You tell him, earning a quick turn of his head to you.

Choso comforts himself a bit more, slouching back into the couch further and rolling his hips upward to get comfortable. Though, his little movement only causes his dick to press up into your cunt.

The layers in between you and him weren’t really helping how stupidly aroused you both were. With a soft sigh escaping from your lips, you start off slow— gently rocking your hips forward as if to test the waters a bit.

Your boyfriend, Choso, quickly lets out a huff. Nothing could beat that teasing sensation of your clothed cunt rubbing against his aching boner. His eyes lowered and despite a cute lil’ shade of red taking over his features, his fingers grip onto your thighs tightly.

“Yeahh, like that, baby,” He whispers.

You hum sweetly and lean forward, pressing your chest against his as you meet his low gaze, “This’ all you want?”

Choso nods carefully, licking his lips in almost slow motion as you just rock your hips back and forth in such a mesmerizing manner. You had such a good rhythm with your hips, perfectly rolling your cunt in small little circles over his cock and gasping every once in a while.

He soon let out a groan and tips his head back, “Just… keep-, mmgh, keep doin’ that.”

You smile at your all-too-sensitive boyfriend before leaning forward and connecting your lips to his neck, “Choso… Baby,” You whine,” Are you really gonna cum from this?”

He barely even nods at your words, hands slithering further up your body to grab ahold of your waist once more, “F-Feels like you’re actually— fuckin’ me,” His voice was husk already, deep but laced with the faintest whine just as you liked it.

“Yeah?” You utter tauntingly. Then you began bouncing slightly, rutting against his cock with more vigor as he humped up into you reflectively.

“Hahh…. Princess,” He whines, “S-Shit, I… I wanna fuck you.”

You lick a long and almost languid stripe up along his neck, stopping at his jaw and giggling, “So fuck me, Cho.”

All that’s let out from him is a groan before he’s flipping the two of you over, his much larger frame in between your legs as he stares down at you so very hungrily.

Then Choso’s drawing his hips back only a little before he presses down into your clothed pussy, the outline of his dripping cock nudging right in between your folds and making your eyes flutter for a moment.

Choso shakes his head at you, “Why’d you come home s’late?” He mumbles.

You let out the faintest moan as he works up a needy pace of humping his dick against you. “C-Choso-“

“Answer my question,” He breathes out as he leans his face down to your aroused expression, “Hm? Why’d you come home late? Y’know I missed you, right?”

You nod and he rolls his hips down into yours, cock mashing into your cunt and even grazing your clit, “H-Hahhh, I-I know Cho… I just-, mmh! Remember t-that promotion I told you about?”

He stares for a second before shrugging, “Yeah…”

“I needed to show… h-how serious I am about it,” You moan as you explain and your jaw goes a bit slack as he weighs his body down into yours a little and Choso grows a little rougher.

“Is a promotion more important than me?” He huffs out, whispering gently to you.

Your head shakes, “No, of course n-not-“

“I texted you, baby,” Choso cuts off, his face growing closer, “Told you I needed you.”

“Cho-“

“Needed your cunt on me,” He huffs out mindlessly, “Needed this, aagh…” His words are emphasized with a rougher thrust against you.

Your body jerks a bit and you have such a lewd expression on your face— almost as if you were getting fucked for real, “Choso,” You moan as he swipes a hand down and rubs over your clit through your clothes.

“I missed her,” He hums, “Missed’ how she talks to me…” All as he rolls that thumb of his over your clit and continues rutting his cock down against you, “You gonna cum f’me, baby?”

“M-Mhmm,” You whine as your hips lift into his movements.

Choso smiles a little, “C’mon then, give it t’me so I can fuck you for real.”

“Choso…” You murmur as his words go straight to your core, your body hot and aching for sweet release.

He nods and his eyes never once leave yours, “Uhuh, keep sayin’ my name.”

Your back begins to arch off of the couch and he grows faster with the way he humps his cock down into you, “Cho,” You whimper.

“Mhm, I’m right here baby,” He coos lovingly, “Act like I’m n’side you, cum just like you would on my cock, princess.”

And just like that, you were cumming, legs closing around your boyfriend as he watches your face and body twist up.

Then he starts kissing your neck and sucking on your skin possessively, “That’s my fuckin’ girl,” He whispers into you.

Then, once your body stills, he leans up and quickly pulls his shirt off, staring down at your wide glossy eyes. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he drags his hands down and tugs on his drawstring.

“Ready t’see how much my cock missed you?” Choso teases as he tauntingly pulls on the waistband of his sweats.

You just nod, almost dumbly as you peer up at him, “Mhm.”

Then he’s smiling again, “Alright but, don’t start cryin’ when you can’t take it anymore, ‘kay?”

★ Nanami Kento

Okay, he’s literally the reason you come home late.

Because of course, working at the same company as your husband isn’t always the best idea. And yes, everyone knows Nanami hates working overtime.

But, when his pretty wife comes into his office after sending teasing messages for the past hour or so about getting home and taking a soothing bath together— Nanami finds himself straining through his clothes.

You’d walk in with that tight pencil skirt and lowly unbuttoned blouse, a way of dressing you know drives him insane.

Then there’s your voice caressing his ear as you walk around his desk and wrap your arms around his neck, whispering an oh-so-sweet, “Need any help in here, sir?” And you know what that honorific does to him when coming out of your mouth.

It all makes him shift in his seat, moving to lean over and rest his chin on his knuckles as he places his elbow on the armrest of his chair, “Yes but not with anything on this damn screen,” Nanami huffs.

You smile, knowing exactly what he means by that but deciding to play dumb anyway. Then you turn and press your lips into his cheek, “Awh,” You coo, glancing over to the neatly assorted paperwork on his desk, “Then, could it be that pile of work you need help with? It is almost time to go.”

Nanami sighs and lifts his head from his hand, turning to look at you whose eyes are busy elsewhere, “No, not that either,” He hums in that honeyed voice of his.

You turn to face him, your eyelids lowering as you find yourself a bit closer than anticipated, “Then what is it, Ken?” Your question comes off as innocent and you tilt your head.

His eyes narrow at you and he scans your expression momentarily. After which, his gaze meets yours, “You are so beautiful,” Your husband suddenly compliments.

And it never once fails to make your heart swell and a smile brightens up your face, “Thank you, hun,” You say before moving to peck his lips, “But where is this sudden sentiment coming from, hm?”

Nanami leans toward your face a little just as you pull your lips off of his and you find it so very endearing how clear it is what he wants from you. “I can’t compliment my wife?” He asks.

“You can.” Giggling, your hands retract from him as you stand up straight— watching how his expression sinks a little due to the loss of your touch, “But I’m just curious is all…”

Your head turns to that stack of paperwork again and you reach for the paper at the top of the pile, skimming over it as you do so.

Nanami watches, falling deeper in love with your every move and trying his best not to think with his cock and act on impulse— though he’d done it before, lord knows he wanted to bend you over his desk and-

“Ken, I thought we discussed this contract here,” You utter, breaking him from his lewd thoughts.

Nanami shakes his head and clears his throat. Then, he reaches a hand over and grabs a light hold of your free hand, trying to gain your attention, “We probably did but,” You turn and look at him as he lifts your hand to his face and lands a kiss across your knuckles, “Can we please discuss that later?”

You gaze at your husband for a long moment, finally noticing the bulge in his pants. “Oh. Is that what you need my help with?” You emphasize as you place the paper in your hand down and point to his crotch.

Nanami moves to intertwine his fingers with yours, “I know it’s unprofessional but, yes.”

You turn your body to face him and he tries to pull you closer but you don’t move. “Ken… if I handle that now we’ll be here longer than we’d like.”

He nods, “I’m aware.”

Frowning in disappointment at your impatient husband, you let off a sigh and push forward, stepping in between his legs. “I wasn’t aware I married such a needy man.” You tease as you draw your hand away from his.

Nanami quickly sits back in his seat, the chair creaking a bit as he does so. He’s got this almost pained look on his face, as if another second without you would kill him.

“Me? Needy?” Nanami huffs, clearly not aware of the look on his chiseled face.

You smile and begin to get down on your knees, the sight making his cock jump within his pants. “Yes, you.” You scoff, “Who else?”

Your husband parts his thighs further for you and smirks, “Between you and I, I am not the needy one in this relationship.”

You nod slowly as your fingers trail along his muscular thighs, the teasing movements causing his tip to drip so messily against his clothing. “So what do you call this then?” You utter, nodding your chin toward his erection.

Those delicate hands of your trail up to his belt and you begin to undo it so slowly that it pains him not to rush you. “You caused it,” Nanami argues.

You smirk, “That doesn’t answer my question, husband of mine.”

“Well, wife of mine, I don’t have time to answer questions right now,” He mocks, tipping his head to the side and watching you like a hawk as your hands finally near his cock, “M’Too hard to think straight.” He grunts.

And then finally, your hand is tugging his throbbing cock out, your eyes widening at the sight as if you hadn’t seen it a million times before. Nanami loves the way you admire him though, he just watches in awe at how your gaze travels along his thick and lengthy member, your mouth salivating in such a hungry way.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day…” Nanami rushes, to which you glance past his length and up at his face with a pout. “Oh don’t look at me like that, we’ve already been here five minutes past our working hours.”

You snicker and lean your face close to his cock just to push your lips to his weeping and flushed tip, “And whose fault is that?” You whisper before you kiss him.

He inhales sharp enough for you to hear, “Yours,” Nanami groans out to you.

Your lips move to wrap around the tip of his cock, tongue quickly swiping in between his slit and making the man shudder above you. Then, you pull your tongue away and look up at him again, “Mine, he says…” You hum to yourself before tilting your head.

Then you’re trailing kisses down the side of his dick until you get to the base, gently sucking on the underside of his cock where he’s sensitive and earning a deep groan that makes your cunt throb.

“…As if you’re not the one begging me to suck you off,” You huff out.

Nanami lands a heavy hand down on your head as you shift to drag your tongue upward along his length until you get to his pretty pink tip, swiveling your tongue around it and pulling off slightly to spit onto it.

“Oh don’t act like you didn’t want to do this,” Nanami argues back to you. Your gaze meets his and he stares at the way you open your mouth slowly, but… not to say something back to him.

Instead, your mouth is closing around his cock before he has time to process— yet another groan leaving his lips and echoing throughout his office. Inch by inch by inch, your mouth furthers down his dick with no problem.

Even as his cock enters your throat and your lips reach his base, you don’t gag or even choke. Nanami’s eyelashes fluttered at the tightness of your throat around him, trying not to groan too much despite it being hard not to when your mouth was so warm and wet around him.

“Fuuck,” He curses deeply, fingers curling into your hair, “I trained this throat well it seems…”

You whine against him and his body twitches. Slowly, you start to lift your head before you work up a pleasureful pace of bobbing your head— sucking on his cock all too well.

Nanami’s free hand grips onto the edge of his armrest as you go to work on him and his eyes begin to lift to his ceiling. Looking down at you with your mouth stuffed full of his cock would only lead him to cum too soon.

The wet sounds slipping from out your mouth as you sucked and licked on his dick filled the air, your eyes lowering as pleasing your husband like this only turned you on more than you already were. The two of you had been teasing one another all day.

Even from earlier that morning when Nanami woke you up by kissing at your neck so lovingly, whispering sweet nothings against your skin in that deep and sexy morning voice of his. He’s had you worked up since then so now, you’re sucking him off like you want him to pass out from it.

And he might because goddamn your mouth is like heaven around him. Your head bobs and twists, your throat opening up to take him in deep every time you push down, and a moan vibrates against him as his hand tugs at your hair every now and then.

Then there’s your tongue, slithering up and down and left and right, slicking against each vein in such a way that tells him you remember every single one.

“Oh fuck,” Nanami curses yet again, hips unconsciously bucking up into your mouth for more, “So good… Your mouth feels s’good on me, love.”

You give his cock one long and hard suck until you pull off with a loud pop, sticking your tongue out for a moment as you move a hand to jerk him off. “Yeah? Couldn’t wait til’ we got home, huh?” You tease.

He just shakes his head at you and watches through lidded eyes as you tap the tip of his fat cock on your tongue, smiling a little as you do so.

He pants, “Hahh… not when I have a perfect cocksleeve of a wife t’help me out…” Nanami says lowly.

And your face twists up at that, eyebrows pinching together slightly and pout pulling at your lower lip, “Ken…” You whisper, your hand tightening around his shaft as you give him quick pulls.

“M’sorry,” Nanami apologizes quickly, making you smile. “I-, aagh… I didn’t mean t-that….” He huffs out, clearly out of it as you jerk him off so perfectly, better than he ever could on his own.

You lean forward and purposefully suck on only his top, tongue lulling around it, in between his slit, pushing saliva out of your mouth and making it all the more messy before you pull him back into your mouth.

Then Nanami moans into the air, “Fuuck, n-no, I meant that…” He corrects, “You suck me off like a goddamn-“

You pull off for a second and smile, “Say it…”

“Whore,” Nanami grunts and you moan as you sink your mouth down onto him again, making his abs tense up beneath his shirt.

Your eyes gloss over as you take him all the way in, closing your throat around his cock and practically sucking the soul out of him. Then your hands sneak down and you cup his balls in your hand, feeling how some of the mixed saliva and precum has slipped down.

Nanami nearly kicks something as you do so, his head flying back as he moans out your name. The sound makes your pussy so unbelievably wet, eyes glancing up to get a good look at your husband who was so close to finishing in your mouth.

Then you see him take a shaky hand and tug at that bright yellow tie of his, yanking it loose and messily unbuttoning some of the buttons on his shirt so that he could breathe properly.

Not that that really helps him escape that damn mouth of yours. As you lift your mouth to breathe, both of your hands move to make up for it, your lips and tongue focusing on his tip all over again.

“Goddamn-,” Nanami’s breath hitches and his eyes begin to roll back, “Y-You’re gonna make me-,” He groans again as you slurp his tip into your mouth sloppily, hands twisting and tugging at his cock so damn deliciously that he actually does accidentally kick his desk in front of him.

There’s a thud that follows but neither of you pay any attention to it. You’re too busy making his head spin with that mouth of yours and Nanami’s trying not to-

Whatever the hell he was trying not to do, he does— abrupt and warm ropes of cum shooting into your mouth. Nanami’s body hunches forward as he does so, almost as if he were trying to escape your mouth for a second.

Your hands only move out of the way though, mouth sinking all the way down on his cock so that you don’t miss a single drop of him.

Nanami’s chanting your name lowly over and over as he cums, small little I love you’s and you’re so perfect’s flowing out his mouth as he does so.

Once he’s done and you finally pull your lips off of his cock, you’ve got a mouth full of cum and you purposefully don’t swallow yet. Looking up at your husband with wet eyelashes and batting them at him, you roll your tongue around in your mouth and show him what a mess he’s made in there.

Nanami practically chokes at the sight before averting his eyes, “Don’t do that…” He hums, “J-Just…. Swallow it.”

Your hands go to his knees and you push up a little to lean toward his face, forcing him to look at you. Then, his eyes fall on your mouth and he watches as you close it and gulp loudly, sticking out your tongue afterward for him with a cute ah sound following.

Nanami shakes his head at you and scoffs, “Nasty slut.” He degrades.

You flash him a smile, and lean up for a kiss, “You know you love me that way,” You murmur as your lips near his.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he moves a, still shaky, hand to your jaw and tugs your face to his, “I do. I really do,” Nanami says before kissing you passionately despite his taste on your tongue.

After which, he pulls away and gazes deeply into your eyes. You reciprocate the stare and even smile at him again.

He grins, “Promise I’ll thank you for this properly when we get home.”

You nod, “You better.”

“Mh,” He hums before tilting his head, “Or I could lay you out on this desk and repay you now?”

Blinking, you shrug, “Up to you, Ken.”

He stares for a moment, licking his lips at the thought of being in between your legs. Then, he shakes his head, “Nope, I’ll make you wait ‘til we get home.”

Your eyes go wide, “But-“

Nanami chuckles, “That’s what you get for calling me needy.”

[satoruxx]

you're sweating when you wake up, skin sticking painfully to your bedsheets as your bleary eyes dart around, attempting to make focus of your surroundings. the room is still dark, barely touched by the slight bit of moonlight that attempts to peak through the closed windows—defiant. it takes a minute to realize that the sounds that are breaking the silence are actually coming from your own throat—breathy, wheezing gasps of terror.

your stomach drops when your fingers grip cold and empty fabric. he's gone he's gone he's go—

"what are you doing up, pretty?"

your head snaps to the doorway. satoru stands there, sweats hanging low on his hips even as his hand remains curled around a glass of water. his hair is tousled with sleep, but his cerulean eyes are sharp and lively.

as soon as he sees the panic lacing your expression, his eyes widen, long legs practically tripping over themselves as he stumbles towards you.

"what happened?" he asks sharply, frantically placing the cup on the bedside table to take your face into his palms. shades of blue dart back and forth across your features as he perches one knee on the mattress and peers down at you. "are you okay?"

his touch sends electricity through your veins—a splash of ice water pulling you away from that painful reverie.

your heart both clenches and soars, the idea of what you saw being terrifying, and yet finding out it wasn't true being that much more relieving.

"i just—" your voice comes out choked, and satoru's fingers twitch against your skin imperceptibly. "had a bad dream."

you think your brain must be cruel for conjuring up a dream in which satoru could suffer to such abhorrent extents.

"oh sweets." satoru's sigh is sympathetically soft, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek just barely. "it was just a nightmare."

"i know," you swallow, voice shaking. there's an uncharacteristic wetness pooling at your waterline. "i-it just felt so real."

"baby..." satoru immediately pulls you against the steady planes of his chest, thick arms snaking around your waist to eliminate any measly amount of distance between you two. you prop your chin on his shoulder, sighing as you feel his snowy hair tickling at your cheek.

"it wasn't real, sweetheart," he says, pulling back just slightly to push a piece of hair from your face. his thumb then drags under your eyes, wiping away the unshed tears. "see. you're here, i'm here. everything's all good."

"yeah." you're nodding, unable to take your eyes off of him because he's real and alive and so breathtakingly perfect. "yeah, you're right."

he gives you a lopsided smile, eyes bright and glowing. "i don't like to brag, but i usually am."

you snort out a laugh, missing the way his expression turns pleased at the sound. "hilarious. you love to brag."

"you got me there," he shrugs, grinning as you stick your tongue out at him. the lighthearted banter solidifies the fact that satoru is fine and unharmed and completely yours, but you can still feel the apprehension coursing through your veins. chills run up your spine—you try not to show it.

but of course, satoru has always been able to see right through you.

his teasing smile goes soft, and he inhales deeply.

"was it about me?" he asks, climbing into bed next you. you lay back down carefully.

"yeah," you mumble, watching him tug the blankets over your body and tuck you both under a cocoon of warmth.

"hm." something in his tone tells you he's not unfamiliar with the feelings you seem to be experiencing—his body shifts closer to yours. ocean eyes carefully asses you, deep and calculating and so concerned even as he smoothes a warm palm over your shoulder blades. "wanna tell me what happened?"

the truth is you do want to, because satoru has always understood you better than you've ever understood yourself—you have no doubt he'd be able to comfort you just as well as he normally does.

and yet...

"no," you answer, pressing your nose into his neck. a deep breath in, the lively scent that is so inherently your gojo satoru filling your very soul. "it's okay. i think i'll be fine."

when you shut your eyes, images flash behind them—of bloodied bodies and stitches and swapped souls. yet a chaste kiss to your forehead pulls you back to where you're supposed to be, warm and grounding.

"i know you'll be fine," satoru murmurs, lips tickling your brow as he speaks. you think you can hear the gentle smile as he says it, and your grip on him tightens—never letting go. "i'm right here after all."