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ajaxctrl
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ajaxctrl · 10 days ago
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"knowledge is not the highest form of wisdom. rather yet, it is being present."
that fucking broke me. the power of knowing and not knowing.
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ajaxctrl · 9 months ago
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On the therapy-psychiatry business in Hannibal
It puts me in a fit of contemplation whether or not Hannibal Lecter actually helped anyone with their emotional and mental proclivities.
Hannibal demonstrates extraordinary clinical acumen, which apparently coexists with psychopathy of satanic proportions. It's safe to say that during his imprisonment, he continued to write, publish, and receive positive reviews for his works. For good measure, during that time, psychiatry students and practicing physicians wrote to him with papers and theories for him to comment on.
He was regarded as one of the leading experts on the subject of addiction to plastic surgery and had a great deal of influence. Regarding his patients, I believe he was a threat to those who somehow piqued his interest and only marginally effective for those for whom he cared for.
But it's him who convinces the suicidal person to channel their thoughts toward killing others. It's him who counsels the individual struggling with inner demons to talk to them, be open with them, and hear what they have to say. Afterwards, they end up using lobotomy to create a human beehive or skinning someone and dressing them in a people suit.
By its very nature, therapy involves great vulnerability—sharing your deepest secrets with a professional who has studied mental health and psychology. Truly that Doctor Hannibal Lecter is on the bottom list of people you'd want to be vulnerable to.
The man is an exceptional psychiatrist in terms of skill after all, but definitely not the safest psychiatrist out there.
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ajaxctrl · 9 months ago
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MSBY X MANAGER!READER - sakusa kiyoomi
others: atsumu's version, bokuto's version, hinata's version.
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# contains: some cursing but that's it # ellie.txt: expected this one to be more dramatic, but as I was writting it, it just felt so right like this. so yeah. obligatory: i love omi and respectful relationships.
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ajaxctrl · 9 months ago
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MSBY X MANAGER!READER - miya atsumu psrt 2 [part 1]
others: sakusa's version, bokuto's version, hinata's version.
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# contains: cursing, hint of angst, skirts (?) # ellie.txt: if any of you here is also reading my sweet competition series !! that reference from prev chapter is for you!! btw long ass second part sorry! you guys know me
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ajaxctrl · 9 months ago
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MSBY X MANAGER!READER - miya atsumu, part 1 [part 2]
others: sakusa's version, bokuto's version, hinata's version.
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# contains: cursing, hint of angst but blink and you'll miss it # ellie.txt: this one got too long because I'm embarassingly in love with the dude or whatever. anyway I had to split it, so posting part two tomorrow.
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ajaxctrl · 9 months ago
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It’s annoying but the way you improve yourself is one tiny thing at a time
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ajaxctrl · 9 months ago
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the unbearable lightness of being, philip kaufman 1988 / henri de toulouse-lautrec/ peter wever / egon schiele
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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when I kissed the teacher — ooooo i wanna see what moodboard you’d make for the word “casanova” it’s so intriguing to me
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| join my 5k celebration! |
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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Old money aesthetic -
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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rwrb part one ; henry fox
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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Hannibal (Tv Series 2013-2015)
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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Poor Things (2023)
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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Poor Things (2023) dir. Yorgos Lanthimos
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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a modern day woman with a weak constitution
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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Ms. Tee you have to follow up rich boy Gojo with him getting to experience the first morning together. With reader in his arms 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 and reader finally caves pls Tee I'm dying over here - dabitee anon
𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.
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it’s late in the afternoon when gojo opens his eyes, and for a moment, he wonders where he even is. there’s the warmth of a body snuggled into his side, there’s the feeling of legs tangled with his under the sheets, and there’s numbness in his arm from a head resting on his bicep the whole night—all things he never wakes up to.
and then he’s horrified—sickened even. he couldn’t have possibly stayed the whole night after a one night stand, could he?
he jumps, pulling away, hearing a soft groan before quiet grumbles are muttered under a breath, but he’s not too concerned about that right now. who is this? and where are his clothes? and why does the room suddenly feel oddly familiar—
“satoru, what the fuck?” you grumble, glaring at him through bleary, sleep hazed eyes. he blinks once, then twice, and then he tilts his head to the side in confusion. and soon, he grins as he realizes, and it’s bright and ecstatic and just a little bit smug before he tugs your body against his quickly—a little too quickly since it causes you to huff and deliver a light smack to his chest in irritation.
“so, you stayed the whole night with me, huh?” he wriggles his brows, smirking at you as he presses a gleeful kiss to your forehead. you purse your lips as you stare up at him, and you wonder if it’s too late now to back out of whatever this is you have with gojo.
“after you begged me to, yeah,” you spit, and he clutches his chest dramatically, as though your words land a harsh blow to his ego. in all realness, he’s too giddy to care, but gojo satoru is not gojo satoru if not without at least some theatrics.
“i wasn’t the one drooling on your chest, was i?” he asks, chuckling as your eyes narrow at him. your gaze is almost enough to pierce through him, and if he’s being honest, he loves it. gently, he reaches, pinching your nose affectionately as his arm curls tighter around you. “see? ‘m not so bad,” gojo mumbles, and your expression softens as he lets out a happy sigh, pulling the sheets up to cover you better.
“you’re a clingy sleeper, did you know that?”
“i distinctly remember my arm being the one to fall asleep because you were laying on it—”
“and then you rudely woke me up when you pulled away,” you huff, grumbling the word asshole under your breath as you shuffle out of his arms and shift to turn with your back facing him.
gojo pouts, inching closer until his chin rests on your shoulder, molding his body around yours as his finger prods at your side repeatedly. you smack his hand away, but it does little to deter him, and his finger is back to poking at your hip not long after.
“did you have dreams of me, at least?”
“satoru,” you warn.
“did i look hot?”
“no.”
you can practically feel his pout deepen as his arms wrap around you again, face burying into the crook of your neck. but as he plants a soft kiss into your skin, you smile to yourself, bringing your hand to lay on his and rubbing over his knuckles with your thumb in slow circles. he pulls you so your back is flush against his chest—and for once, you lean into him.
and gojo feels the same giddy feeling bubbling up again, the one he feels when he envisions mornings together as you make pancakes, and steal each other’s last bites, and argue over washing dishes, and splashing water in each other’s faces. because now, there are no more empty hookups and lonely mornings—because now you stay, and you snuggle into his chest, and you latch onto his arm, and you give him a chance to live out those daydreams.
“c’mon, i was a little hot, right?” he whines, digging his nose further into your neck. and you want to yell at him for ruining your sleep, but there’s nothing but fondness blooming at the way he holds you near, bodies pressed so closely together, you almost don’t know where one ends and where the other begins.
“nope. not even a little,” you tease, a grin spreading on your face as he sulks against your skin. your fingers lace with his, slowly entwining as your eyes open, and maybe you can get used to mornings like this—even if it’s technically noon by now.
“we’re dating now, you know,” he grumbles, “so that means you have to be nice to me. it’s the rules.”
“i have to humble you,” you correct, giggling lightly, “and since when do you ever follow rules?”
“since i’m the one who makes them,” he chuckles, and then you’re being turned around, being shifted to lay on your back as gojo hovers over you, biting your cheek playfully. you can’t help but squeal, laughing as you try to shove him off—and there’s warmth in his chest, eyes bright and heart full as he stares down at you while the rays of sunlight kiss your skin.
gojo thinks that after this, if he has to spend even a single morning without you by his side, it’s a morning wasted—and even if the clock ticks one pm, and the birds are no longer chirping, and it’s a tad bit late to be making pancakes, this is probably still the best morning he’s ever spent.
“i was promised an excellent breakfast last night,” you remind him. your hand reaches to cup his cheek, thumb tracing over the soft flesh gently, and he follows the touch like a moth does a flame. leaning down, gojo presses a delicate peck to your lips, then another, and then another—and soon, it’s deepened to a kiss, both of your eyes fluttering shut as your arms wrap around his neck.
hesitantly, he pulls away, and you wonder to yourself if his eyes have always been such a vibrant shade of blue.
“only the best for you,” he winks, and then he dips back down, lips pressing themselves against yours once more.
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here’s another rich boy gojo drabble fjsjfjsjf why is this basically a series now help
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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# BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER ‣ GOJO SATORU
✰ — author’s note i’m losing my mind over gojo please help me ….
✰ — cw / tags sfw, gojo being annoying, f!reader, enemies to lovers, suggestive i guess.. + you’re best friends with gojo’s brother (that i invented)
gojo doesn’t have a brother canonically (i think?) so i had to make do. didn’t think of a name so i just kept referring to your best friend as him so sorry if that’s confusing!!!!
also i barely proofread this Sorry
✰ — playing see you soon by beabadoobee.
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“little y/n.”
it’s been a hot minute since you’ve been over at the gojo house. a hot minute being 2 years — your first semester break of college had finally begun and the first thing on your to-do list was… well, visit your best friend.
you knew he always preferred staying close to family. it was a bit of a hassle trying to call him from across the world — always preoccupied with something.
well, it didn’t matter now. you were here and you had a good long break to spend with him — you’d been best friends since middle school and inseparable since. your mother was so accustomed to him that whenever you were alone, she’d question where he was. that’s how close you two were.
of course, you knew visiting the gojo household had it’s own set of problems — his parents were rarely home, so he would often have to cook for you two (which wasn’t very edible), and his annoying older brother exists.
satoru. you couldn’t stand him. ever since you were children, he’d constantly poke fun — call you his girlfriend, tease you about having a crush on his little brother: you swear it was only a week long thing, and you didn’t even tell anyone!
that alone wasn’t enough to hate his guts. he’d constantly pick at your features, say the meanest things about the most random parts of you — he once said he hated how your eyebrows were angled. apparently, he had a problem with how one of your eyes has less bottom eyelashes than the other.
it was hell. every single afternoon you spent at your best friend’s house after school was an invitation for satoru to bully you: forcing you to realise the tiny, initially unnoticeable mistakes in your appearance. what torture.
you suppose you’ve stopped caring so much now that you don’t spend much time with him — and as a result, satoru — anymore. the last time you saw him was 4 years ago.
you’ve grown into your features now. satoru can’t ridicule you now that you’re an adult, even though you’re still younger than him; but you had small hopes on the plane here. you thought he would be a little more mature than his high school self and treat you with a little more respect.
well, reality has it’s ways of hitting you hardest — and this time it punches you right in the gut.
“little y/n.”
his voice rumbles through the living room. it’s low, much lower than when you last heard it. the mocking tone is still the same, though — that’s how you knew it was none other than him.
you walked into your friend’s house with the spare keys he gave you a few years back. he’s not even home, and that only spelled trouble for you: satoru is alone, with you — under the same roof.
you grit your teeth. you’re facing the open door, you were trying to close it quietly in order to surprise your friend (who was nowhere to be found) — but your thoughtful gesture has gone to waste now.
you turn your body around, slamming the door behind you. you put the keys down on the table in the entryway — meeting eyes with the tall and rather huge figure in front of you.
maybe huge isn’t very specific — more like buff. or jacked. ripped. gojo satoru is very muscular. you register that almost immediately because he doesn’t have a shirt on: he’s got plaid pajama pants that pool over the floor. his bed hair is extreme, and it’s clear he’s just woken up because of the bowl of cereal in his hand.
“hello.”
“i knew it was you!” he takes a spoonful of his cereal as he continues staring at you, clearly oblivious to the fact that he’s half naked — or maybe he just doesn’t care. that seemed very like him. never caring about his image. “know that eyebrow angle from anywhere.”
you notice he’s taller, way taller than he was at high school age — his shoulders have gotten broader, his jaw is chiseled, and the muscles in his arm flex as he scoops milk and cereal into his mouth.
“that’s not funny, gojo.”
you’re quick to notice all these changes. he wasn’t this big back then. he wasn’t any of this. you wonder where he gets the time to hit the gym with college classes taking up most of his schedule — he must be really dedicated.
“what’s with the formality?”
his eyes are piercing. they always have been. that god forsaken combination of white hair with that shade of blue. strands of his thick, snow-shade hair stick to his forehead — it’s getting a little long, so they frame his face too. it’s annoying how much it makes you stare.
you remember when it used to be grown out — he’s got an undercut now, but it’s barely noticeable with how unkempt his hair is.
“we’re not friends,” you mutter under your breath, almost between gritted teeth. “i’m just here to see your brother.”
he smiles, as if he knows you’re lying — when you really aren’t. satoru gojo is an eyesore. maybe not to other girls, but to you… he makes your head spin and blood pressure rise. that will never change.
“come on, don’t be like that.”
it’s an annoying thing. how satoru can act as if you two had been the best of buddies since you were born — when he’s really done nothing but make you and your best friend’s life a tad more miserable — just because time has passed.
you don’t bother saying a word to him, instead making your way up the stairs and purposely shoving his arm in the process. he almost stumbles — except not really, considering how big he was compared to you. he only looks at you with curious eyes as your footsteps fade away.
you looked different. much different. your hair suited you now, instead of those pigtails you used to wear all the time — he never let you live that down. gojo thought you were the weirdest girl he knew, wondered why his brother even bothered talking to you; but he supposes his brother was a little weird, too.
you weren’t wearing that stupid make up style you used to do back in middle school — with the bright pink lipstick and thick eyeliner. he thought you looked like a clown and he did as much as tell you that. you went home crying and his brother never forgave him for it. instead, satoru notices you’re not wearing any makeup at all.
you look strange. at least it wasn’t what you used to wear, it’s nothing at all now — but he thinks you look decent. not worse. a bit less of an eyesore than what you used to be.
hm.
gojo satoru is conflicted.
he doesn’t know why he even bothered looking at you. he doesn’t care about the makeup you wear or if you wear it at all. he doesn’t care about the way your voice has changed from an annoyingly high pitched one to a smooth velvet. he doesn’t care that your hair looks so good in the lighting of his house, because you know how to style it now.
he doesn’t care about you and how much you’ve changed to someone he could tolerate standing in the same room with.
at least that’s what he’s repeating in his mind.
perhaps it’s the smell of your perfume — or perhaps it’s just you, because it’s too mild that even he almost missed it — that makes his heart race. or maybe it’s the static he feels when your skin brushes against his.
or maybe he just needs to get more sleep. yes. that’s what it was: so he goes to his room and naps it off, except he wakes up feeling the exact same and still thinking about you.
it’s a bit later into the week and you’ve been hanging around the living room, thankful that gojo hadn’t disturbed you that much that day.
he’s still in college. he’s only a year older than you — that only meant he was on break as well. a wonderful holiday it was turning into; shouldn’t he be busy with a girlfriend of some sort? a fiancée? anyone at all?
friends? you always saw him playing video games with a long haired man in his room.
you switch channels, legs crossed on the couch. you don your favourite sweater, the one that drapes over your knees. everything on television seemed to bore you.
5 channels later, you start to hear footsteps getting louder — you turn to your left and see no one. the front door was left locked and unopened.
you remember the stairs still exist, so you turn your head towards it — there he is. your favourite person.
“hey, didn’t know you were still here.”
“we can do this without talking to each other.”
“that would be awkward, wouldn’t it?”
he jumps over the back of the couch, settling down next to you. the skin of your thigh brushes his and he feels that dumb static all over again.
he notices you’re wearing his shorts. it must’ve slipped into his brothers closet. he wonders why you’re even wearing his sibling’s clothes — are you two that close?
satoru rolls his eyes at the thought. it’s always been that way with you two. always so close. he’d never been able to have a single moment with you without his brother interrupting.
“are you dating my brother?”
“are you serious?” you groan, stopping your browse on the netflix catalog. “i thought we stopped this years ago.”
he clicks his tongue out of annoyance, insanely irritated at the fact that you can’t just answer one simple question without being so defensive.
“just answer the damn question, will you?”
“i’m not.” you reply, “i’m not seeing anyone.”
he laughs and it’s a bit too fake to convince you.
“i can see why.”
you know exactly what he’s trying to do. your hopes of gojo satoru being a better man to the people around him had been thrown into the ocean, and it’s sinking to the bottom of the sea floor.
“…can we stop with the ugly jokes?”
“i never said anything about ugliness.” he defends.
you ignore him from that point on. you have learnt from a young age that arguing with him will lead you nowhere helpful — only to a wall spray painted with the words ‘gojo satoru is always right’.
a few minutes pass in silence, except for the loud previews playing from the netflix app on television. you scroll and scroll.
“i could call you ugly if i wanted to.” gojo says. “but i don’t want to.”
“i don’t want to call you insanely fucking annoying, either, but you’re acting like it.”
“i’m just saying,” he continues. “you’re not that ugly.”
you don’t know if you heard that right. you might be hallucinating. it’s the jet lag — perhaps you needed some sleep.
“that ugly?”
you don’t know why you even bother asking. he is still calling you ugly. gojo satoru is still a bit mean. that hasn’t changed — nothing has changed. clarification is only an invitation for him to further reiterate his point: you are ugly, just not that ugly.
“i’m saying you look okay.”
“whatever.”
your angry tone is much more evident in this moment. for the first time in his life, he’s worried.
no, of course he’s been worried before. just not about you.
he’s anxious while wondering if he took his words too far this time, considering if he should apologise to you for once in his life: but then he’d have to explain why he’s sorry — and that can’t do.
he cannot admit to you that he’s lying through his pearly, perfect straight rows of teeth. lying to you that you look okay, and apologising for the fact that he called you ugly the first time when that was far from the thoughts swirling in his mind.
gojo satoru will not admit to you that he thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s seen in a while.
sorry — gojo satoru does not want to admit to you that he thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s seen, but he does anyway.
“i take it back.”
you roll your eyes again. you were in the middle of reading a very lengthy description on IMDb about a movie you saw on netflix. now, you’re distracted and have no idea where you stopped reading. you think he’s going to say something stupid, and you’ll regret even looking away from your device to divert your attention to someone like him.
“…just stop talking, satoru.”
gojo’s eyes widen at the mention of his first name.
he curses at himself mentally. even the way it rolls off your tongue sounds pretty. he thinks the syllables of his name match perfectly to your voice — pretty name, pretty girl.
“gojo. sorry.” you mutter a bit too softly. he wants to hide his face in his hands. he knows the tips of his ears are reddened, because his face feels like it’s burning.
“‘sokay,” he replies in a voice much more inaudible than his usual loud and confident tone. he’s definitely fucked himself over with the way he’s acting right now. “i think you’re pretty, y/n — middle school you would be proud.”
you shift your gaze from the television screen to the man next to you. even in a loose t-shirt, his biceps stretch the fabric of his sleeves: the cotton crinkles trying to accommodate to the size of his muscles.
“funny joke. ha ha.” you try to put on a front, that you’re not flattered at all — but your lips quiver and your cheeks burn, and gojo sees it all.
“i’m not kidding,” he chuckles, and his smirk is sickeningly charming. “really.”
the pretty peach colour of his lips clash with the various shades of white on his face. his hair, eyelashes, teeth. it’s nothing you weren’t used to. after all, your best friend inherited very similar features.
“are you sure?”
yet, you look at gojo satoru and you feel nothing but nervousness and tension — sprinkled with a little urge to stare at his regrettably pretty face for just a bit longer.
your heart races when he draws closer to you. he notices the flush of your skin: but he thinks you probably notice how his hands tremble when he lays them on yours, and how his movements hesitate as he inches his body closer.
you’re frozen. you feel like you’re floating with the nonexistent space between you two. the expression on his face is one you want to burn into your memory, because he looks so good like this — his lips slightly parted, his eyebrows raised just a little, his eyes locked on your lips.
he looks like a man who hasn’t eaten, in front of his first meal in 5 days — gojo satoru looks at your lips as if he needs to taste them. taste you.
his body language is screaming confident — but he isn’t going to lean in. he can’t. he doesn’t know if he should, and even if he wanted to: he’s much too afraid.
you want to scold him for thinking he could just swoon you like this after all these years; after all the mean things he’s said. you were sure you despised him, hated his guts, disliked every fibre of his being —
but he looks too good.
gojo hovers as you lean against the arm rest of the sofa. his hands are at your side to support himself so he doesn’t drop all of his weight on you.
“i’m sure.”
well, he’s already so close. it would be awkward if you didn’t do anything, wouldn’t it?
that’s all it takes for you to wrap your arms around his neck, and he almost falls off the couch with how fast you are. the tiny space between you two is closed as he lowers himself, your legs making space for his torso to squeeze between.
your lips are soft, just as he expected. they’re like pillows he wants to lay on forever, and the way you run your hands through his hair drives him insane.
you feel lightheaded.
maybe it was because you can barely breathe, but you’re appreciative at the fact that he pulls away to let a bit of air enter your lungs before taking it all away again — all while flashing the most cocky smile in between: he knows no guy will be able to have you like this.
gojo is irritated at the fact that he can’t have your expression in this moment printed and framed — you look breathless, eyes looking up at him and needing more — so tries his best to savour every detail of it. a mental image that he will never forget.
you swear you hear him say your name between kisses, ever so softly that you think you weren’t meant to hear it: but you do. he says it as if he’s starstruck, like he’s thanking you.
when gojo pulls away for the final time, you feel your heart pound in your chest and knock violently against your rib cage: his hair is a mess from your fingers intertwining with it. his lips are slightly swollen and redder than what they were minutes ago. his entire face is blushed.
what a sight, you want to say it’s even better than kissing him — actually, no. a close second.
“you taste like berries.” he chuckles, trying to catch up on his breathing. he thinks he would’ve continued if he didn’t have the need for oxygen — bad day not to be a plant.
“what kind of berries?” you smile. you never thought you would ever smile at gojo satoru.
“the really good ones.”
“i clearly meant what type of berries,” you roll your eyes. still as stupid as ever. “strawberries? blueberries?”
he sighs, thinking for a bit. “actually, i don’t even know.”
“then how do you know they’re berries?”
“cause i love berries. i eat all types of berries. they’re sweet.” gojo tries to explain.
10 minutes later and the banter still goes on.
satoru has his hands on your waist after shifting you to a position where you’re on his lap. his back leans comfortably against the sofa pillows while your chest is pressing against his.
his eyes sparkle in the living room light. gojo’s pupils are dilated as they stare into yours, and he’s smiling — it’s not the charming one he does to get his way. it’s one of affection.
your hands feel every dip in his muscles as they slither around his neck once again. “i just don’t know what type of berry you taste like.”
“i could check my lip balm flavour,” you suggest. “will you shut up then?”
gojo shakes his head, pressing you impossibly close to his chest. “no, i think we should do some trial and error. i’ll eat different berries and kiss you after each one.”
“that’s gonna take forever, satoru.”
“satoru?” he snickers. “are you my wife, y/n?”
“i would rather die.”
he gasps dramatically. “that’s a bit mean —“
“oh my god.”
you both turn your heads towards the front door.
“hey,” satoru greets, his grip around you tightening as you struggle to let yourself free. you’re mortified. “you’re back early, little brother.”
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261123 — writing abt make out sesh with satoru gojo got me giggling.. also i think i’m gonna stop doing small text for my works because i find it hard to read
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ajaxctrl · 1 year ago
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DON’T FORGET WHO’S TAKING YOU HOME (and in whose arms you’re gonna be).
pairing(s). kaeya, childe, ayato, kaveh, neuvillette x gn!reader
genre. fluff + kaveh calls you pretty btw
wc. 200-400 for each character
an. AND SING WITH ME 🎤🎤 SO DARLING SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR MEEE michael buble literally left no crumbs with this song i had to write about it omg + ALSO happy valentines day everyone !!! i may not have a valentine this year but im happy to post this for anybody feeling a little lonely today !! you are so so loved okay ?!!! come and collect a kiss from me before reading on 💋 MUAH have a lovely valentines day !!! <33
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kaeya alberich
you’re really good at hiding, kaeya thinks to himself with a huff and a smile on his lips. searching all over the plaza for you was making him break a sweat in his navy blue tuxedo. with another turn around the corner he decides to remove his tuxedo jacket for the time being, folding it over his arm to carry instead.
“no, no, no klee! stop it! you can’t play with your things here, if you blow things up-”
“-master jean will put me in solitary confinement…”
oho, kaeya recognises these two voices very well. he finds it so hilarious that at the end, his feet lead him right to you! not even a single thought was processed as he turned the corner two seconds ago but here you are.
he hides behind the large potted plant, listening to the conversation you and the beloved spark knight share. he stays there until it becomes quiet between you two.
“kaeya, you peacock, i know it’s you.”
kaeya lets out a baffled noise, finally showing himself from behind the plant, offended by the ridiculous nickname you gave him. “snowflake, how dare you?”
“klee, don’t eavesdrop on people like this man when you grow older, yeah?” you point animatedly at your lover, who’s folding his arms and scoffing at you.
klee only giggles, nodding her head. “i gotta go find albedo now!” you watch as she skips off towards the plaza, waving goodbye.
you then turn towards your next problem that stands behind you. “i thought you were out dancing?”
“i was, but they’ll start playing the last dance soon and how can my last dance not be with you?” your lover walks towards you, pulling you closer by your waist with his free arm. you immediately wrap your arms around his neck, smiling softly at his intentions.
you hear an announcement echoing from the plaza before you can reply, and you figure it might have been mika because of how timid the voice sounded.
“good evening everyone, please bring all your friends and company over for the last dance of the night!”
“sounds like our queue.” you slide your arms off his shoulder to grab his hand, pulling him with you without warning.
“oh snowflake, hold on-” kaeya almost trips on air and the sounds of your laughter bounce off the concrete floor and walls as you drag him down the staircase leading to the plaza.
childe
you can never refuse ajax’s request for a dance, because he won’t take no for an answer. especially when it comes to dancing. your feet hurt so much. you’re so ready to just fall on top of your bed and go to sleep. but the only thing that keeps you wide awake, heart pumping and everything is the look on your lover's face.
his gaze usually has this inhumane and dull look to them, but you find that whenever he looks at you or when he participates in something he loves, his gaze finally twinkles. it works so miraculously too. like all of a sudden life was returned to him and he could see.
the smile on your lips grows when you think about this. you think it’s sweet how you’re one of the reasons that the life in his eyes returns.
ajax notices the tighter grip you hold on his forearm, making his lips curl in curiosity. “what’s going on in your head, baby?”
you zone in on the situation, you’re still dancing, and you shake your head in response. “nothing, ajax.” you want to keep your thoughts to yourself but when ajax smiles at you like that, with the most expectant look on his face, you can’t help yourself. “actually, i just thought about the dance.”
he twirls you around to the music before connecting arms with you again. “you just thought about the dance?” his brow quirks in amusement.
“no, no not like that,” you say with a sheepish chuckle before continuing, “i just thought that this number is the longest one so far.”
“well of course,” ajax responds with an eye smile. “it’s the last song.”
“it… is?” you look up at ajax while trying to fight the urge to look anywhere else.
if this is the last song… and you’re dancing with him… then that can only mean-
when the choreography allows ajax to pull you against his chest, he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “you will be my final dance partner tonight.”
kamisato ayato
these few days at fontaine have been strumming the strings of your heart like a guitar—ayato has been spending so much time with you that you’re beginning to think of such ridiculous conclusions. his eyes that linger on your face, his hand that hovers on the small of your back when leading you out of a hall and it’s just these little things that he does with you that makes you want to claw an entire curtain off its rod. one time he even poured you a glass of wine before taking a sip with the same glass—it’s like he’s forgotten he’s the yashiro commissioner!
thoma and ayaka barely bat an eye. but also, they’ve known ayato for much longer than you have since you were a recent (and lovely) addition to the little family. so… perhaps this is just how he acts?
“uh-huh, when he’s courting someone that is.”
the sentence that thoma said offhandedly is the only thing that rings through your mind. but your thoughts must’ve shone through your expression because ayato is quick on his feet to smoothly guide you off the dance floor, gloved hand still holding yours as he brings you to a less crowded area—the balcony.
“you appeared to be distracted, that’s why i pulled us away,” ayato breaks the silence and your train of thoughts.
he’s still holding my hand—is what you’re repeating in your head. your eyes can barely focus on a single object within your field of vision. your bottom lip quivers at the revelation you’re carefully starting to uncover.
“i am not distracted,” you inhale sharply when you accidentally meet ayato’s gaze. “i…” your brows crease as you try to get words out of your mouth.
ayato brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand and you can physically feel the blood rush up to your fingertips. “would my lady like to return to the hotel?”
your voice leaves your throat in but a hoarse whisper, “what did you just call me?”
you hear a chuckle from ayato and it makes you snap your head around in embarrassment. this new term of endearment rolls off his tongue way too easily, the rascal must have been practicing!
“oh no, no, no, my lady, you must look at me,” a grin appears on ayato’s face at your attempts to hide your expression and when he finally gets you to look at him, you’re caged between his arms.
“why would you call me that?” you whine at his teasing.
“well i just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore,” ayato murmurs, a dust of pink decorating his cheeks. “will you allow me to call you that?”
kaveh
three hours. it’s been three hours since you and kaveh decided to learn a cute couples dance routine ‘for funsies’. whose idea was this again? weren’t you two supposed to be just friends? doesn’t kaveh have a client meeting tomorrow that he should be preparing for?
“so we do this—then this and then we’re supposed to oh—!”
the silence is deafening. the song playing in the background fades as you both stare at each other, even mirroring the same expression. eyes as wide as saucers. lips just inches from connection.
kaveh’s breath fans over your lips and you can hear the audible gulp he makes at the closeness. he’s also entirely aware that the red in his cheeks has reached his ears by now. while you, on the other hand, have started hearing the percussion of your heart in your own eardrums.
“o-oh…” your legs are frozen in place and hang on a second, why haven’t either of you let go?
his hand is respectfully sat on your waist, while the other is occupied holding your hand. you hear him inhale and it grabs your attention before you can get anymore lost in his gaze. his gaze observes your lovely face, eyes flickering from one feature to another as he whispers, “has anybody ever told you you’re pretty up close?”
you shake your head ever so slightly. “no.”
kaveh likes this answer, humming as he ponders for a moment.
your eyes sparkle when that handsome smile of his appears on his lips. he chuckles shortly at your expression, your palm feels so warm when connected with his.
“i’m glad i’m the first to tell you.”
neuvillette
“oh dear, neuvillette,” you chuckle softly, walking towards him as he takes another sip of his water. he stands in a more secluded corner of the hall, briefly greeting guests with a nod of the head. which is why he stands out like a sore thumb—arctic white hair, designer blue suit and a piercing gaze.
but that gaze doesn’t fool you. the dragon sovereign is probably pondering on retiring for the night and is only still present to keep up with appearances.
“yes, lady y/n?” it’s to nobody’s surprise that he heard you from metres away.
when he turns around, your eyes immediately land on the problem you’ve sensed since you returned from the dancefloor.
“your tie,” you reply, standing in front of his figure, nonchalantly raising your hands in preparation to adjust the garment. “will you allow me to fix it?”
the gears in neuvillette’s mind pause abruptly at your question. he certainly has no problem readjusting his own tie. his hands aren’t holding anything else other than his cup of water—which he can definitely put down on a nearby table!
but why can’t he bring himself to say no?
the ‘of course’ leaves his lips faster than he would have liked, but that’s no matter, your expression shows no sign of displeasure. instead, he watches your sweet smile brighten.
when your fingers reach the tie, neuvillette notices how you tiptoe to reach him. so he does what any normal person would do—he leans down.
it catches you off guard, the tips of your fingers just slightly grazing against his neck in the process. you profusely apologise in whispers to which neuvillette can only chuckle at.
“it is no trouble lady y/n, i appreciate the kind gesture.” the corner of neuvillette’s lips curve, his hands neatly tucked behind him as he allows you to redo his tie.
neuvillette’s lips only seem to further break into a smile as he watches you pat on the tie in completion.
“there, all finished.” you look up at the iudex, chuckling, “you ought to learn how to do this yourself.”
neuvillette hums, “perhaps you could teach me.” he takes your hand, gently brushing his lips against your knuckles before kissing it. “but for now a dance shall suffice, would you care to join me?”
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