One Of The Hard Parts About Being A Writer With A Vivid Imagination Is That There Are So Many Ideas,

Satoru has never gotten into your bed gently; has never sunk into the mattress without a bounce, without jostling the plush surface with an audible oof and pulling you from the depths of sleep. Never. Not once.

And tonight is no different.

It’s an impossible task for him, it seems. Like trying to breathe underwater or pick something to watch on TV. And the worst part of it all is that you know he’s doing it on purpose. No matter how hard you may try to will yourself to sleep through it or how much you may complain when he finally settles beside you, the man is unrelenting. A pain in the ass, even at one in the morning. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t so damn annoying.

“Satoru,” you warn, though it’s not as threatening as you hope it would be. You blink over at him with heavy lids, tone dripping with exhaustion. “Must you do that every time you get into bed late?”

He has the audacity to think about it. “Mm, well I suppose I don’t have to,” he coos, voice low like he’s trying to lull you back to sleep. “But what kind of man would I be if I didn’t wake up my little sweetheart to give them a goodnight kiss when I got home?”

“A better one?”

Your eyes slip closed as if shutting them will make him disappear (or shut up). It doesn’t. Instead, it only serves to spur the sorcerer on. Now, Satoru crowds your space, wrapping you into a tight bundle and pulling you so close your nose squishes against his cheek.

He’s entirely scandalized by your rebuttal, gasping in your ear as if you’ve just told him the most offensive insult imaginable. “I can’t believe you’d say that about your dashing boyfriend.” As if to prove his point, Satoru pulls you away only to drag you back in to plant multiple exaggerated pecks against your cheek, a sappy muah sound accompanying each one.

They leave wet lip prints in their wake that you’re too tired to rub away. Eyes still closed, you furrow your brows, accepting your fate as you cuddle into the curve of his throat – right beneath his chin.

“My dashing boyfriend who can’t do anything quietly to save his life.”

“Hey,” he whines into your hair. “I can be quiet!”

“Oh yeah? Then let’s play the quiet game.”

You can feel him hum somewhere deep in his chest as he thinks it over. “What do I get if I win?”

Your limbs feel heavy as you rest your arm across his stomach, curling your hand around the hem of his shirt. You can only muster enough energy to mumble, “Winner gets breakfast in bed tomorrow.”

“Ooo, okay,” Satoru presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Be prepared to make me a huge stack of pancakes tomorrow, baby.”

“Mhm, fine. 

“With extra chocolate chips.”

“’kay.”

“And,” A hand ruffles your hair. “A lil extra love, maybe?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Without opening your eyes, you can tell there’s a retort brewing in Satoru’s, and you stop it before it has the chance to fill the air. “Quiet game starts now.”

The room immediately falls into silence, only broken by the soft sound of your combined breathing. Satoru’s warmth and the steady movement of his chest as he breathes — up, down, up, down — bring you right back to sleep’s door, as if Satoru hadn’t woken you up at all. Maybe the quiet game had been the answer this whole time. You kick yourself for not thinking of it sooner.

You nuzzle closer, nose brushing against his collar bone as you feel yourself drift off, but right before you completely fall into the clutches of exhaustion, you hear a tiny voice mumble, “Love you.”

It’s punctuated with another kiss to the crown of your head and a warm palm gliding up and down your back, and you can only bring yourself to tighten your hold on his shirt before you fall asleep.

The next morning, you awake to an empty bed and the sweet smell of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

So HOURS AGO I sent a risky snap to the guy I’ve been crushing on (just a flirty little pic in response to him sending me a pic of his pants n being like ‘look at my butt’) and completely forgot about it cause it was HOURS ago and he not only just opened it but then REPLAYED it and responded.

Not to act like a silly little teenager but I’m screaming and too chicken to look at what he said

The Onion’s journalism is the only journalism that matters. Holy fuck.

❝ ANGEL

♡ gn!reader x gojo satoru

cw: hurt/ comfort, established relationship

synopsis: gojo is so unserious, but he loves you more than you’ll ever know

wc: 1400+

notes from mei!

hello guys it’s been so long! i’ve rewatched jjk AND WATCHED JJK 0 FINALLY and felt very inspired to write lol (i fully believe gojo is a ginormous piece of shit)

i’m very rusty but i hope u enjoy!

you’ve always known satoru was far different from what people portrayed. he’s so conceited that it’s painful, but you know it’s just because he has insecurities of his own that he feels the need to hide.

he’s not as much of a ladies man as people say—of course, he can have anyone he wants, but he's only ever wanted to be yours.

i’m your perfect match, satoru says, no one can compare!

he’s scared of never-ending cycles and repeated mistakes—of things he should be able to control but somehow can’t—frankly, satoru is the epitome of bullshit.

it’s only now you’ve realized that satoru is the most flawed human you’ll probably ever meet—he’s a wuss who never stops complaining, his mouth going on and on like a never-ending siren. his favourite hobby is to get on people’s nerves then treat himself to that expensive bakery downtown.

satoru is so excellent that his flaws are dimmed by the blinding lights of his perfections.

he can get away with just about anything work wise—but with you and your relationship, there’s a line he constantly loves to jump over, even when he knows you'll never let it slide.

“satoru come on,” you say, hand reaching for his, but as you draw closer you feel a slight resistance, unable to touch him. you draw your hand back, taken aback from his behaviour.

you sigh, quiet and drawn out. gojo feels a chill run through his body as immediate regret pumps through his veins.

"baby—"

"save it, satoru."

he bites his tongue, watching as your eyes glaze over. you turn away from him, crossing your arms as if you were giving yourself a much needed hug. it's silent in his... very large and luxurious penthouse living room and you're once again reminded of the social gap between you and satoru.

for a moment, you can hear the voices of everyone mocking your relationship—criticizing you, laughing at you for even thinking special grade sorcerer gojo satoru could have a soft spot for someone like you.

and you feel played. not by him, but by yourself for believing someone born from money and blessed with strength, could love someone like you—someone who came from nothing and had to work their way up and up, kissing ass and developing thick skin.

you don't think gojo will ever understand how privileged he is.

you also don't think he'll understand how bad he is for you.

"where do you think you're going?" he calls. you think carefully, sliding on your shoes as you undo the lock on his door.

"home."

it's been two days and as your tidying up your apartment, you hear a knock at your door.

you pause, already knowing exactly who it is.

a minute—maybe five passes as you don't hear another knock. you're unnerved because you still see the shadow of him through the very bottom of your door, stubborn as he always is.

you try not to breathe too loud or move too fast, but satoru's always a step ahead and as you're opening your window to escape through the emergency stairs, he's already there.

"that's cold, my love." he says, but it's missing his usual satoru-flare and you know he's not in usual mood.

you don't think you can stomach him being in front of you.

he's wearing his sunglasses, hair down with his hand making sure your window stays open. his other is stuffed in his pocket, casual and uncaring like he always is.

"that's rich coming from you."

satoru loves you.

and it's all he can think about as he looks at you.

he knows you're more hurt than angry, and it's taken him great restraint to not harass you—lovingly—over these past two days. and when he sees you, he realizes he definitely should’ve harassed you instead.

his eyes trace your frown, your posture that shuts him out. he wonders if he'll be able to fix his big mistake.

with you in front of him, gojo doesn't feel like he's the strongest anymore. all the words he prepared to serenade you back into his arms sounded like gibberish and no longer felt right.

"why are you here, satoru?" he doesn't miss the way your voice breaks, "why do you always do this to me?"

tears begin to clump in his your lashes, throat tightening as you stare at him in disbelief. the air is so tense. you feel like you've been stripped bare as a tear rolls down your cheek.

"you make me feel so loved," your voice shakes, "you lift me up so high and make me feel so proud to be me."

satoru wants to tell you that loving you feels so natural.

"but you're so mean," you cry. the tears are falling freely now and you're choking on your words. "you do all these—all these things, making me feel special and—and seen, only for you to neglect me and twist my words a week later, because you can't handle being treated the way you treat me!"

he wants to tell you that seeing you like this is eating him alive.

"you're so ignorant—are you kidding me? thinking i'm overreacting for getting mad th—that you cancelled on like, the third rescheduled date to take on a low-level mission? and when i confronted you about it, forgave you for it, you turn on your infinity when all i wanted to do was hug you?"

your arms fall to your side, sick of his face and the way he’s just standing there silent. "it wasn't even about the date. i feel like you're bored of me and everyone who said we wouldn't last—"

"don't finish that sentence." he interrupts, no longer able to bite his tongue. his lanky figure climbs through your window and you feel even more vulnerable now that he's in your space.

"i'll never get bored of you, you keep me on my toes too much." he lays his cards on the table, knowing this is the last chance he has to prove he loves you more than anything on this earth. "i know how harsh you are to yourself, so i celebrate your tiny achievements because i'm genuinely proud of everything you do. i'm aware that being the best at work doesn't mean i'll be the best boyfriend. i forget that sometimes...” you glare, “most times." he corrects.

satoru takes a careful step toward you. "i care about you—more than you know, i think. you don't deserve to be neglected at all, and you don't.." he inhales through his teeth, "you don't have to put up with me if you don't want to anymore. i know how hard i make it, and i know a sorry isn't going to make it better."

you don't think you've ever seen satoru look so small.

"i can't ask you to stay with me, but we both know how selfish i am, so i'll beg you to stay with me anyways."

he doesn't miss the quick upturn of your lips. but it disappears as fast as it came.

you break eye contact and he feels his world shatter.

"how are you going to fix this?"

"...by reminding you i'm your perfect match?" he squeaks.

you sigh, "you're so unserious."

lanky arms wrap around your figure, caging you against his chest. you close your eyes, naturally sinking into his embrace. "i won't blame you if you break up with me, but i'll just let you know i'll definitely drop dead and you'll be responsible for killing the strongest sorcerer in the universe."

"that doesn’t sound that bad. everyone would know me and fear me—you know how popular i’d be?”

he's silent for a good, long second. "that's cold, my love."

it's so childish, in the way that he speaks. but in a way, he just revealed more to you than his semi-serious little monologue could ever do.

satoru is such a wuss, but he's never had someone love him like you do and he malfunctions. he can't fathom the thought of losing you, but also can't stomach the fact he's not good for you.

but he's trying. you know he is just from the way his knuckles brush against your cheek during the early hours of the morning; you know he's trying when he sneaks off during work to join you on your lunch break.

you know he’s trying because his students say he seems so gentle when he looks at you.

you know he's trying because he's here right now, after showing you he’s not the strongest despite everyone (and himself) proclaiming he is.

your arms curl around him and satoru gets his answer.

he's home.

me: dude i don’t feel like writing

anon: *compliments my fic once*

me one millisecond later:

"i find myself running home to your sweet nothings"

summary | it’s always a rough day for katsuki. hero rankings and PR nightmares every time he opens his mouth. but he gets to come home to you

pairing | bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

word count | 840

warning | soft!domestic katsuki, fluff.

a/n | this is very literally based off sweet nothings by taylor swift, so you can listen if you want the full experience. also, i haven't posted in two months, so i'm sorry if this sucks. <3

—

katsuki drops his bracers at the door with a heavy sigh. he's only just got his boots off and tucked in the corner, when he hears your voice calling him from the kitchen.

"'suki?"

he feels the smile pulling at his lips entirely unbidden.

the soft notes of that song that's been stuck in your head (and by extension, his) plays from the speaker in the corner.

"hey honey," you smile, leaning up to give him a kiss when he's in range.

he'll never be able to explain how that title makes his heart clench. he couldn't verbalize how every title he's obtained has not mattered until you gave him that one. pro-hero, number 2, explosive, dynamight.

your title feels so intimate on your lips, reducing him to the man who would fall at his knees for you.

not a pro-hero or number 2. not a ticking time bomb or a hot-head.

just your honey. your husband. yours, yours, yours.

"how was your day?" you ask, still stirring the pot as you turn the stove down.

"it was alright," he mumbles. in truth his day was rough, and he's not ready to talk about it, and he knows you can tell by the way you reach your free hand out to swipe your fingers along his cheek.

you smile up at him, pinching his cheek. "you wanna wash up? dinner's almost done." when he nods slowly, closing his eyes against the feelings of your fingers, you give him a little laugh.

in the bathroom, he works with the skin care products you left on his side of the counter, the dry winter air has been harsh on his quirk and his skin.

he thinks back to the agency, to the hero rankings, to the disapproving stares of civilians when he lets out loud curses and swears. the scolding he received from his manager today. the article comparing his pros and cons against the number 1 pro hero deku.

the water runs over his chest as he tilts his face into the stream, still trying to catch his breath from the incredibly long week he's had.

by the time he's toweled off and dressed in his sweats, the tension has worked it's way up into his back and across his shoulders.

"katsu?" your voice rings out and he's immediately following the sound back to the front door. he snorts when he sees you trying to push his bracers into the corner near his shoes. "how the hell do you put these things on for hours at a time? oh my god."

bakugo only laughs when he picks up both bracers with ease, your shocked gasp ringing out in the hallway.

"you're so strong, katsuki."

and that's it. your praise comes so easy. the fantastic feats that he performs still awe you. even something as simple as his above average strength elicits cheer from you.

it doesn't matter that he does it everyday, or that it's expected of him, you treat every act like it's the most incredible thing you've ever seen. and bakugo tries to fight the blush creeping up on his cheeks when you say these things.

even after all these years, he hasn't gotten used to your praise.

you're quickly setting a plate in front of him, taking the seat right next to him. recounting the events of your day, catching your boyfriend up on your workplace drama, and your recent purchases is enough to take you both through dinner.

by the time you've got him laid on the couch, your favorite candle is lit in the middle of the coffee table, and you two are talking softly.

his head rests on your chest, his ear pressed right over your heart. your fingers work softly against the ache in his shoulder, somehow finding the right spots to touch. these are nights when he needs you to take him down and you always do so with ease. he groans softly at the tender strength in your touch.

"i like the way you sound."

and there you go again. how do you split him open with a just a few words?

"its so pretty. especially when you talk, and when you laugh, i think that's my favorite sound."

you're calling him pretty. like his body isn't a fucking live wire ready to go off when he sweats. like the natural production of his glands don't cause explosions. like people aren't out there wondering if he should be a villain because of the force of his quirk.

of course the power thrumming through his veins is nothing compared to you. to the person he is when he's resting between your legs, letting you pet and coo at him until he's pliant and soft.

you bathe him in compliments, your adoration of him washes the shitty week off his skin and coats him in a thick layer of your love.

his prickly edges become rounded and soft against your gentle touch. refining him to be composed entirely of your sweet nothings.

—

little ouppy .

2023 language goals 💗:

I’m gonna be extremely realistic about my language goals because chemistry takes a huge amount of time in my life 🫣

🤍CHINESE ~

my main goal will be study HSK5 and do a huge review

Improve my speaking

improve my writing

do the HSK4 exam and if I can HSK5

🤍JAPANESE~

Finish N4 review (textbooks)

Start studying N3

improve my speaking & writing

pass N4 mock exams with a nearly perfect score

🤍KOREAN~

Reach and finish A2 level textbooks

improve my speaking & writing

maybe do the TOPIK 1 exam in October 2023

🤍SECRET LANGUAGE~

Improve my writing & speaking

learn as many words & phrases as possible

Finish A1 course & pass the course final exam

Start A2 course

Reddit wins this one

[Image ID: post from Reddit thread r/thelastofus titled "When is a gay relationship on screen not "political propoganda?""

Post reads: "It's the same criticism I see levied at the last episode over and over again. "I'm fine with gay people, but keep politics out of my entertainment."

I'm genuinely curious. How in the holy hell is a gay relationship pictured on screen inherently "political?"

It's maddening man. I'd prefer they just come out and say what they're actually thinking."

User catnap_kismet replies: "there are two sexualities, straight and political. there are two genders, male and political. there are two races, white and political. etc".

This reply has many awards and 1.2k upvotes

End ID]

Same my guy