#The Precision of Infinity

[rogueish]

Still not sure if Anna Butterss or Mary Halvorson wins the award for most brain melting jazz guitar of 2024.

Jlin also a competitor in at least one of these categories (as it turns out I like her work better when it veers away from strict footwork and more towards jazz), as is Arooj Aftab.

[collodibottiglia]

Jlin - The Precision Of Infinity (ft. Philip Glass)

[groovesnjams]

"The Precision of Infinity" by Jlin ft. Philip Glass

MG:

When I read that the upcoming Jlin release would feature Philip Glass my mind immediately skipped several more logical conclusions and jumped straight to "new Philip Glass composition on the Jlin album!" apparently mistaking "feature" for "collaboration." Alas, that is not the case, but she does sample my (and everyone's, I'm sure) favorite Philip Glass, the Metamorphosis suite from Solo Piano. The resulting track is something of a modern mash-up, Jlin's laser cut footwork production set against Glass's sumptuous, roiling piano. What the two unlikely track-mates share is their excess of energy. I believe I bought Solo Piano my senior year of high school because it was the only Philip Glass CD Borders had in stock and sometimes I would put it on to "relax" because it was one of the only pieces of instrumental music I owned. Unsurprisingly, I never felt even slightly soothed by this album -- it's a life cycle that completes in a little over 30 minutes. (The other piece of instrumental music I owned was Godspeed You! Black Emperor's Yanqui U.X.O. I don't think music really, like, can be relaxing for me, but that's another post.) Pairing this sort of warm, accelerated, organic process with cold, futuristic, hyperactive club rhythms feels like another permutation of the man machine. Jlin remains on the cutting edge of these experiments, unafraid to embrace the often alienating space of contemporary classical music and unyielding in her own vision.

DV:

I do think it's interesting how increasingly Jlin seems aligned with contemporary classical. This isn't new exactly - she was collaborating with William Basinski way back in 2017. But something like "The Precision of Infinity" and its near-bassless beauty seems designed more for seated appreciation than mass movement: I can imagine watching a performance of it while seated in an auditorium balcony much more easily than I can picture it being dropped in a sweaty basement rave. The beauty of Jlin's work is that it wouldn't be out of place in either setting, that even if she's leaning a bit further toward an audience that wouldn't know what to do with Smartbar if they stumbled in after a Cubs game, she's still making music that could be played there by a DJ who knew what they were doing. And maybe I'm not being entirely fair here. The concept for "The Precision of Infinity" is "dance music for people who like piano suites", but the execution is visceral enough to remind me that sometimes those are the same people who can hold it down on the dancefloor until after dawn.

[okaystoptellingmetomakeanaccount]

I still cant believe this is a real thing

One week. One week. Its approaching so fast.

Okay maybe its time to defeat my social anxiety and talk to the nice people at the comic shop about preordering this.

[zarathelonewolf]

After uninstalling Honkai Star Rail to make space for Wuthering Heights and Infinity Nikki...

... but receiving only disappointment for the bullshit tactics of the devs of BOTH these two other games...

... I am coming back to Honkai Star Rail. And probably uninstalling Infinity Nikki as well.

To anyone who is interested, below are my reasons.

Wuthering Waves's anniversary was super disappointing, and the story is becoming too much of a "all waifus love the protag" for me to be interesting anymore. Honkai Star Rail deals with the "chosen one" narrative better ngl.

Infinity Nikki completely fumbled their apology for the recent 1.5 fiasco. Completely. They only used excuses. And I am not upset about the bugs (hundreds, thousands of them) being difficult to solve... It's that we players became the game testers, instead of the version being tested beforehand. I am not sure I can continue playing the game. All my enjoyment was sucked dry. They are ignoring the players. For those who are interested, on the UNofficial subreddit for Infinity Nikki you can find lots of info on what went wrong and examples of Infold execs' greed, I am so pissed at the company that I am also completely deprived of enjoyment for their games and I have no strength to speak of what happened.

Yes. No strength. Videogames are fundamental to me. They are one of the few things that keeps me going through life as of late. I don't know if what they help me face is depression or burn out, I just know they help me face something. And that it's important I keep playing them so they can do so.

I am still very disappointed in how Hoyoverse handled the Genshin Impact cultural representation. But the team making Honkai Star Rail is different, and Honkai Star Rail is also different from Genshin.

In the end, I do not want to support Genshin anymore. But there can be nuance in various situations and I have decided to see it in this one.

I also decided not to care about what other people who are on a path against Hoyoverse as a whole will say, whether they are on Twitter or here on Tumblr. I have decided to make a choice for myself rather than listen to others always because I feel guilt for something I am doing. I am tired of only choosing what to do because of guilt. I have done it for my whole life and now I am tired. Sick and tired.

Guilt forced me to bow my head to Mother. Guilt forced me to not speak up when something bad was being done to me, because it created shame, and the shame spoke to the side of me that would perk up whenever Mother said I was not being loyal or dedicated enough.

So I will see both the good and the bad of Honkai Star Rail, instead, and get in there again. Guilt is a feeling which is incredibly useful to my brain when it wants to torture itself and I want to teach it to approach things healthily instead of always being on the lookout for "what others think".

Are there huge issues with Hoyoverse as a company? Believe it or not, every game company (aside from rare examples which I cannot list because I do not remember their names, but they make games I do not like so maybe that's why I forget them) has skeletons in their closet. I will criticize Hoyoverse when they do something, but keep playing this one game Honkai Star Rail, until I tire of it, even if it was made by the same company that made Genshin Impact. I am f2p anyway, I am not giving them a cent.

And before anyone asks me "are you trying to start a conversation/conflict?". No. No, I am venting. I am talking about my experiences because I have no one in real life, outside of Tumblr, that will listen to my rambling and venting and UNDERSTAND.

And if anyone also asks me "why are you implying an assumption on your part that people will react badly to you writing this?", it's because I overthink about every possible scenario and focus on the possible bad ones. I want to know how to respond in each situation I am put in. I do not handle not knowing what my opinion is on ALL subjects, and I cannot handle the possibility that my opinion on some of them is Immoral and Evil™. I am obsessed with this and I cannot stop. I do not know if it is anxiety or OCD, but I mistrust therapists completely rn so I am not sure I will ever find out.

And if anyone asks "why don't you just stop overthinking then?" I can't. I have never been able to. Like I said, my brain tells me that I must always have a moral stance on things and not do stuff that is immoral. If I ignore this inner voice, it keeps humming in the background until I shake its hand and agree to its demands.

Well, I want to beat up this stupid brain of mine. Because that is not how life works. It mustn't work like that. Mine cannot work like that. Obsessing over doing what is moral and what is not is sending me in a downward spiral. So I must detract morality to some of the choices I make, especially if it is purely based on shame and guilt. I must force my brain to know that no, this once, for this one thing, we are not doing What Is Moral And Does Not Make You Disgusting And Evil™, we are Following Healthier Thoughts That Do Not See Me As The Devil If I Am Not Perfect In My Choices and Morals™.

So I am leaving this here.

[mantisgodsdomain]

We have also just finished a replay of Pokemon Super Mystery Dungeon. We highly recommend playing this game! We are being attacked by a game that we last beat several years ago when it first came out, where we went in knowing nothing of the story and went out having been dealt a physical blow to our heart. Very fun game. For legal reasons how to obtain it is A Mystery For Sure but you should play it.

[midrosel]

okay so today i discovered that the recommend-button works now <3

also managed to discover that apparently it automatically selects the most recent evolution you've gotten for a suit

tbh the red and black elegant permanent banner suit looks good with the banshee

[asynjja]

lil boring tag drop <3

― 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 ， it was as if the empty nights were made for thinking of her. reflection *

#― 𝘢𝘦𝘴 ， the world changes. we do not ; therein lies the irony that kills us. inspiration *

― 𝘳𝘦𝘭 ， will you stay with me my love for another day? moa + elenore *

― 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 ，some of us are born for war ; others are made of it. mythology *

― 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 ，any road followed precisely to its end leads precisely nowhere. dune *

― 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 ，in wars fools kill other fools for foolish causes. wheel of time *

― 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 ，infinity diversity in infinite combinations. star trek *

#― 𝘰𝘰𝘤 ， life imitates art far more than art imitates life. prompts *

#― 𝘰𝘰𝘤 ， writer of very angry people. shitposts *

[pickthegadgets]

Top Amazon Finds: Affordable Tech Accessories You Didn’t Know You Needed (2025 Edition)

In the ever-evolving world of technology, it’s easy to overlook the small yet impactful gadgets that can enhance our daily lives. Whether you’re working from home, traveling, or simply seeking convenience, Amazon India offers a plethora of affordable tech accessories that combine functionality with innovation. We’ve curated a list of such gadgets, each under ₹1,000, that have garnered positive…

[asneakyfox]

something fun about all those "could granny weatherwax defeat kira" "could the infinity train fix izzy hands" sort of tumblr polls is like. there's a smug answer that's just "it depends whose story they're in," like, bugs bunny always wins if the genre is a looney tunes short but if he's in some sort of grimdark action drama then he's just a rabbit and gets shot by a hunter. but the other way to look at those polls is that's the whole question: whose genre rules have priority? there are some characters whose genre rules take priority over whatever story they're in.

here's what i say, granny weatherwax would always defeat kira precisely because granny can't exist in the death note universe without her own genre rules taking over; there's no "if it's a light yagami story then light wins" here because if granny's there it isn't a light yagami story. bugs bunny always wins because whatever story he enters becomes a looney tunes short, he cannot by his nature exist in any other context. the answer to "which our flag means death character could survive black sails?" is stede bonnet and only stede bonnet, because if any other ofmd character enters black sails they become a black sails character and most black sails characters die. but stede is the one who carries the romcom aura and that's part of who he is, if stede enters the world of black sails then black sails is now a romcom, and he's absolutely fine

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jjk men with a clingy s/o

ᨳ♡₊➳ feat. gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, higuruma, shiu

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: request from this ask!

₊⊹. Satoru Gojo

₊⊹. Gojo loves teasing you about your clinginess publicly, but behind closed doors, he's completely wrapped around your finger. "So needy today," he'll grin, playfully poking your cheek as you latch onto him yet again. "But, lucky for you, I have exactly zero plans to move."

₊⊹. One time, you leaned in for a kiss, eyes fluttering shut, the moment practically glowing with romantic tension – only for your lips to hit an invisible wall like a bird smacking into a glass door. You froze mid-pucker, dramatically recoiling as you shouted, "YOU'VE BLOCKED MY LOVE!" Gojo blinked, then gasped like he was just accused of war crimes. "Oh my god, babe, wait, I didn't mean to infinity block you!"

₊⊹. Gojo once tried to sneak away while you were sleeping and you latched onto him mid-dream like a tactical cuddle missile. He froze like he'd just been caught committing a crime. "They've evolved. They have proximity detection now." he whispered, eyes wide, surrendering to fate as you curled into him like a sleepy octopus.

₊⊹. You send him voice messages in the middle of his missions that just say things like, "Are you still alive? Because if you die, I'll actually beat your ghost's ass." and he listens to them mid-fight like they're love letters. Gojo's the only man who can obliterate a curse and then coo, "Aw, they miss me!" like he wasn't one millisecond from vaporizing.

₊⊹. Gojo genuinely loves how much you care. He finds comfort in your unwavering affection, especially when everything else feels heavy. To him, your clinginess isn't suffocating, it's grounding. Because underneath the jokes and the bravado, Gojo is lonely. Terrifyingly so. And now, there's you. Wrapped around him like you'll never let go. He teases mercilessly, but inwardly he's counting his blessings that someone like you loves him so openly.

₊⊹. Suguru Geto

₊⊹. Geto never explicitly says he likes your clinginess. But you catch him positioning himself on the couch just right so you can fit beside him like a perfect puzzle piece. If you don't immediately snuggle in, he clears his throat. "You're... sitting far away." "I'm in the next seat." "Still too far." You drag yourself into his side, and he exhales like his soul has returned to his body. "Better," he mutters, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Infinitely better."

₊⊹. He has a secret pride about being the one you gravitate towards. The tiniest sigh from you instantly summons him like some Batman signal. You're having a bad day? He'll appear mysteriously with your favorite sweets with exaggerated nonchalance and smirk.

₊⊹. Every morning, without fail, Geto wakes up to your face inches from his, whispering a soft "good morning" that sounds less like affection and more like a haunted house jump scare. He doesn't flinch anymore, just hums sleepily, reaching up to gently boop your nose and murmuring, "Is haunting my mornings necessary?"

₊⊹. You've adopted the habit of poking Geto gently whenever he's too quiet, pretending to check for signs of life. He catches your finger, bringing it to his lips softly, and says, "Still alive, but continue your inspection if you must."

₊⊹. Ultimately, what Geto loves most about your clinginess is the unspoken trust it reveals. Every time your fingers intertwine, every casual touch or silent request to be held closer, it reassures him that you've chosen him as your safe haven. He tells you, "Maybe I find your little clinginess... oddly charming." You're not sure if that's a compliment or an insult, but his smug smile tells you he enjoys keeping you guessing.

₊⊹. Kento Nanami

₊⊹. Your clinginess revives Nanami's inner office worker who thrives on appreciation and recognition. Every little act of emotional clinginess, like texting him at precisely 3:27 PM saying, "i miss you even though you're probably fighting a curse rn" makes him sigh, but he also screenshots these messages. They're nice reminders during particularly irritating overtime shifts.

₊⊹. You once asked, very seriously, "Do you like it when I'm all over you?" mid-cuddle while half-asleep. Nanami, deadpan, replied, "I am used to carrying dead weight on missions. You are significantly more pleasant."

₊⊹. Nanami's amused by your habit of video calling him for emotional support whenever you're mildly inconvenienced. Each call opens with, "This is an emergency." and it ends up being about how your favorite ramen place changed recipes. "This is indeed a tragedy," he humors you, leaning his chin into his hand with a hidden smile. "Should we file a formal complaint?"

₊⊹. You cling to him in grocery stores like he's the last cart in a Costco apocalypse. He carries the basket. You hang off his arm. You sneak snacks in. He notices every time, gives you The Look™, but says nothing. Then quietly grabs a second bag of your favorite mochi like he's not the softest man in Japan.

₊⊹. Deep down, he treasures your emotional clinginess as genuine proof that someone genuinely values his existence beyond his work ethic. Every time you say, "I need affection." he transforms into the world's most thorough cuddle therapist. He'll lay down next to you and drape an arm around your waist. His grip never loosens.

₊⊹. Choso Kamo

₊⊹. Choso thought clinginess was a bad thing at first. He saw it in his vessel's memory archive somewhere between "ghosting" and "manspreading" and assumed it meant something parasitic. But then you grabbed his hand during a walk and said, "If you let go, I'll simply die." He tilted his head and went, "... Is that so?" Now he just lets you do your thing, looking a little confused but very pleased about it.

₊⊹. He once genuinely asked Yuji, "Is it normal for someone to fall asleep clinging to your torso while whispering that your blood technique is sexy?" Yuji did not have an answer for that, but Choso looked very serious about the inquiry.

₊⊹. He doesn't know how to ask for affection, so he kind of... stalks you. Lovingly. He'll just hover behind you until you notice. No words. Just his tall, ominous presence lurking with the vibe of a haunted doll. When you finally grab his hand, he acts surprised like he didn't just shadow you through the entire apartment.

₊⊹. Your clinginess activated something in Choso. He's used to giving affection downward to his siblings — protecting, shielding, sheltering. But when you affection bombed him with hugs and forehead kisses and emotional vulnerability at mach speed, he experienced a minor internal system crash. You said, "You need to be loved back." and he almost cried. He still short-circuits when you say nice things. Please say more.

₊⊹. He's incredibly deadpan when he tells you he likes it. But it hits like a truck. "I find your persistent attention to me… comforting," he once said while braiding your fingers into his and staring at you like you hung the moon with your bare hands. "You are clingy in a way that increases my quality of life. Like central heating. Or filtered water."

₊⊹. Toji Fushiguro

₊⊹. At first, Toji treats your clinginess like it’s mildly annoying but ultimately ignorable. You drape yourself across him like a weighted blanket and he just keeps flipping through TV channels like, "... You done?" But the second you shift away? "Where the hell are you going? You were warm."

₊⊹. Toji has learned, through unfortunate trial and error, that if he goes more than two hours without texting you, you will assume he died in a tragic pachinko machine explosion. He now sends you blurry selfies at weird angles with no caption to assure you he's alive, looking like a dad who just discovered front cameras.

₊⊹. You wrapped yourself around his arm while he was eating grilled offal, and Toji just kept chewing like you weren’t latched onto him. He didn't even blink. You whined about being too far from him (despite being in his literal lap) and he just muttered, "You're ridiculous," while shoving a bite of meat into your mouth like that would shut you up. Spoiler: it didn’t. He doesn't mind it, though. It's just that his love language is grumbling while letting you do whatever the hell you want.

₊⊹. You give him forehead kisses every time he walks by and after the third one he goes, "The hell is this, a toll?" But then he dips his head slightly on the next pass like he’s clocking in for affection hours.

₊⊹. Honestly, he finds the constant attention oddly reassuring. He'll roll his eyes when you spam him with cute selfies during his missions, but deep down, he's thinking, "At least someone’s keeping tabs if I vanish." It's slightly comforting to a guy who casually risks life and limbs for money that his clingy mess of a partner will notice if he's gone for too long.

₊⊹. Hiromi Higuruma

₊⊹. Higuruma, used to the stoic detachment of courtrooms, was absolutely not prepared for you flinging yourself onto him every chance you got. At first, he just stood there, arms awkwardly raised, until eventually, he surrendered with a resigned sigh and patted your head softly. "You know, most people just say hello," he murmured, a faint blush betraying his pretended indifference.

₊⊹. He enjoys your oversharing, even if his default reaction is a solemn blink and a confused, "Wait, this happened today?" as you narrate the smallest inconvenience with Oscar worthy zeal. Still, his soft smile at your theatrics says, "Please, continue. I'm fascinated."

₊⊹. Late at night, when you whisper dramatic soliloquies of love while cuddled beside him, Higuruma listens silently, heart swelling quietly. "Do you rehearse these?" he asks eventually, only half-teasing. You huff, replying, "Spontaneous genius requires no practice, Hiromi."

₊⊹. You text him like you're running a 24/7 emotional support hotline. "drink some water or i'll cry." "reminder: if you were a fruit, you'd be a fineapple." He never replies to any of these with more than a "Noted." but when you forget one day, he sends you a single "?" and follows it up with "Just checking. You usually send something absurd by now."

₊⊹. You cornered him one night, "Tell me your feelings. Right now. I'm clingy and nosy." Higuruma stared at you like you were threatening him with emotion. Which, to be fair, you were. But then he looked away and murmured, "I feel calmer when you're near me. Less like I'm drifting." You made a high-pitched dolphin noise and tackled him into a hug. He caught you with the resigned grace of a man who knew this would happen the second he opened his mouth.

₊⊹. Shiu Kong

₊⊹. At first, Shiu thought your clinginess was a long con. Like, genuinely. He assumed no one could possibly want to be this emotionally available without a criminal motive. You hugged him three times in one day and his immediate response was to check if he still had his wallet. But then you leaned in, looked him dead in the eye and whispered, "I would die for you and also you looked really hot when you lit that cigarette earlier." and he just stared at you like you'd just dropkicked his worldview. He was not emotionally prepared for this level of wholesome chaos.

₊⊹. You've started carrying an umbrella to shield his cigarette during rain. "True love is letting your man slowly destroy his lungs with fire in peace," you declared, standing there like a rom-com martyr. Shiu stared at you, cigarette safely lit under your umbrella, and muttered, "You're ridiculous." But he didn't move. He let you hold that umbrella like the love-struck menace you are.

₊⊹. You hide sticky notes in his coat pockets with things like "You're doing amazing, sweetie!" Shiu finds them at the worst times, like when a deal's going south and he's trying to look intimidating. Suddenly there's a neon pink post-it fluttering to the floor that says, "Who's my sharp little criminal? YOU ARE."

₊⊹. You once followed him to a business meeting just to dramatically "die" outside the door because you missed him for an hour. Like full on collapse, arms spread, and wheezing. When he finally steps out, he takes one look at your performance and goes, "If you're gonna fake death, at least don't block the exit." But then he quietly slides his cigarette behind his ear and lifts you up by the waist with a muttered, "Let's go, nuisance."

₊⊹. He doesn't smile much. But when you tell him you love him with your whole chest, he always says it back softly, like a secret he can't stop sharing. "Yeah. I love you too, dumbass."

[hiraethwrote]

Satoru is such a baby when it comes to splinters.

Just imagine you’re standing in the kitchen when you suddenly feel the energy in the room shift — turning around to face Satoru, hunched and small with his bottom lip sticking out in a pout, hand stretched out in front of him to show you his wound.

“What am I looking at?” He shakes his hand furiously, having you approach him, grabbing his wrist to keep it still, and he instantly winces in pain. You squint, noticing the tiny, red dot in the dead centre of his palm — and he won’t tell you how he got the splinter burrowed in his hand, but you suspect he ran down the stairs three steps at a time, hand gliding over the railings and brushing over the chipped patch at the bottom of it (again). “I’ll get the tweezers,” you sigh.

Coming back from the bathroom, Satoru is sat by the dining table, mentally preparing himself for the dramatic procedure you’re about to perform.

“Show me,” you speak softly, knowing he’s going to need the sympathy. He rests the back of his hand on the table, his eyes pinched together as he awaits the stinging feeling of you digging into his hand.

“That hurts!” He squeals, retracting his hand to his chest at the speed of light.

“I didn’t even touch you, baby,” you say with a low chuckle. “Give me your hand again,” and he begrudgingly puts it back in the table.

“Satoru?”

“Hmm?”

“You have to turn off your infinity.”

He peaks open one eye, taking in the scene of the tweezers hovering an inch above his hand. He flicks his attention to your face — one eyebrow quirked, a slightly taunting smirk on your lips, fighting back the laugh you were harbouring.

Clearing his throat, he shifts in his chair to settle in a more confident posture — straightening his back, wiping away his pout and flexing his muscles, all in order to seem like a tough guy.

The invisible pressure under the tweezers disappeared. You lean in closer to execute with precision, only for Satoru to cry out the second the cold metal grazes his sensitive skin, causing you to flinch away on pure instinct.

“Fiiiine,” you singsong, “we can just let the splinter disappear into your hand and travel your bloodstream.” The lie often told to children seems to work, having him chew the inside of his cheek while he thinks for a second, before he once again rests his hand in front of you. “Ready?” He nods weakly, squeezing his eyes shut again.

And with ease, you snatch a hold of the small splinter that was wedged in his flesh and pull it out.

He blinks a few times, looking at his hand, looking at you. “Thank you,” he mumbles shyly, a little embarrassed by how he acted as if it was the end of the world.

With a lighthearted laugh, you get up from your seat and place a kiss on his forehead. “Any time, darling,” you whisper against his hot skin, knowing it’ll probably only be three weeks before you’re sat at the table again, facing the same issue.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[koiukiy-o]

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 008. the email.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 3.3k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: yum. good night, see you next week <3 -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

On the board: a rough, sketched spiral that narrowed into itself. Then—without explanation—he stepped back and faced the room.

“The Julia Set,” he began, “is defined through recursive mapping of complex numbers. For each point, the function is applied repeatedly to determine whether the point stays bounded—or diverges to infinity.”

He turned, writing the equation with a slow, deliberate hand, the symbols clean and sharp. He underlined the c.

“This constant,” he said, tapping the chalk beneath it, “determines the entire topology of the set. Change the value—just slightly—and the behavior of every point shifts. Entire regions collapse. Others become beautifully intricate. Sensitive dependence. Chaotic boundaries.”

He stepped away from the board.

“Chaos isn’t disorder. It's order that resists prediction. Determinism disguised as unpredictability. And in this case—beauty emerging from divergence.”

Your pen slowed. You knew this was about math, about structure, but there was something in the way he said it—beauty emerging from divergence—that caught in your ribs like a hook. You glanced at the sketch again, now seeing not just spirals and equations, but thresholds. Points of no return.

He circled a section of the diagram. “Here, the boundary. A pixel’s fate determined not by distance, but by recurrence. If it loops back inward, it’s part of the set. If it escapes, even by a fraction, it’s not.”

He let the silence stretch.

“Think about what that implies. A system where proximity isn’t enough.”

A few students around you were taking notes rapidly now, perhaps chasing the metaphor, or maybe just keeping up. You, however, found yourself still. His words hung in the air—not heavy, but precise, like the line between boundedness and flight.

Stay bounded… or spiral away.

Your eyes lifted to the chalk, now smeared faintly beneath his hand.

Then—casually, as if announcing the time—he said, “The application deadline for the symposium has closed. Confirmation emails went out last night. If you don’t receive one by tonight, your submission was not accepted.”

It landed in your chest like dropped glass.

It’s already the end of the week?

You sat perfectly straight. Not a single muscle out of place. But you could feel your pulse kicking against your collarbone. A kind of dissonance buzzing at the edges of your spine. The type that doesn’t show on your face, but makes every sound feel like it’s coming through water.

“Any questions?” he asked.

The room was silent.

You waited until most of the students had filed out, notebooks stuffed away, conversations trailing toward the courtyard. Anaxagoras was still at the front, brushing residual chalk from his fingers and packing his notes into a thin leather folio. The faint light from the projector still hummed over the fractal diagram, now ghostlike against the faded screen.

You stepped down the lecture hall steps, steady despite the pressure building in your chest.

“Professor Anaxagoras,” you said evenly.

He glanced up. “Yes?”

“I sent you an email last night,” you said, stepping forward with a measured pace. “Regarding the papers you sent to me on Cerces’ studies on consciousness. I wanted to ask if you might have some time to discuss it.”

There was a brief pause—calculated, but not cold. His eyes flicked to his watch.

“I saw it,” he said finally. “Though I suspect the timing was… not ideal.”

You didn’t flinch. “No, it wasn’t,” you said truthfully. “I was… unexpectedly impressed, and wanted to follow up in person.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he speaks again—calm, almost offhanded.

“A more timely reply might have saved me the effort of finding a third paper.”

You swallow hard, the words catching before they form. “I didn’t have anything useful to say at the time,” you admit, keeping your voice neutral. “And figured it was better to wait to form coherent thoughts and opinions… rather than send something half-baked.”

He adjusts his cuff without looking at you. “A brief acknowledgment would have sufficed.”

You swallow hard, the words catching before they form. “Right,” you murmur, choosing not to rise to it.

Another beat. His expression was unreadable, though you thought you caught the flicker of something in his gaze. 

He glanced at the clock mounted near the back of the hall. “It’s nearly midday. I was going to step out for lunch.”

You nodded, heart rising hopefully, though your face stayed calm. “Of course. If now isn’t convenient—”

He cut in. “Join me. We can speak then.”

You blinked.

“I assume you’re capable of walking and discussing simultaneously.” A faint, dry smile.

So it was the email. And your slow response.

“Yes, of course. I’ll get my things.” 

You turned away, pacing steadily back up the steps of the hall toward your seat. Your bag was right where you left it, tucked neatly beneath the desk—still unzipped from the frenzy of earlier note-taking. You knelt to gather your things, pulling out your iPad and flipping open the annotated PDFs of Cerces’ consciousness studies. The margins were cluttered with highlights and your own nested comments, some so layered they formed little conceptual tangles—recursive critiques of recursive thought. You didn’t bother smoothing your expression. You were already focused again.

“Hey,” Kira greeted, nudging Ilias’s arm as you approached. They’d claimed the last two seats in the row behind yours, and were currently sharing a half-suppressed fit of laughter over something in his notebook. “So… what’s the diagnosis? Did fractals break your brain or was it just Anaxagoras’ voice again?”

You ignored that.

Ilias leaned forward, noticing your bag already packed. “Kira found a dumpling stall, we were thinking of-”

You were halfway through slipping your tablet into its case when you said, lightly, “I’m heading out. With Professor Anaxagoras.”

A pause.

“You’re—what?” Ilias straightened, eyebrows flying up. “Wait, wait. You’re going where with who?”

“We’re discussing Cerces’ papers,” you said briskly, adjusting the strap across your shoulder. “At lunch. I emailed him last night, remember?” 

“Oh my god, this is about the symposium. Are you trying to—wait, does he know that’s what you’re doing? Is this your long game? I swear, if you’re using complex consciousness theory as a romantic smokescreen, I’m going to—”

“Ilias.” You cut him off with a look, then a subtle shake of your head. “It’s nothing. Just a conversation.”

He looked at you skeptically, but you’d already pulled up your annotated copy and were scrolling through notes with one hand as you stepped out of the row. “I’ll see you both later,” you added.

Kira gave you a little two-finger salute. “Report back.”

You didn't respond, already refocused.

At the front of the lecture hall, Anaxagoras was waiting near the side doors, coat over one arm. You fell into step beside him without pause, glancing at him just long enough to nod once.

He didn’t say anything right away, but you noticed the slight tilt of his head—acknowledging your presence.

You fell into step beside him, footsteps echoing softly down the marble corridor. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet wasn’t awkward—it was anticipatory, like the silence before a difficult proof is solved.

“I assume you’ve read these papers more than once,” he said eventually, eyes ahead.

You nodded. “Twice this past week. Once again this morning. Her model’s elegant. But perhaps incorrect.”

That earned you a glance—quick, sharp, interested. “Incorrect how?”

“She defines the recursive threshold as a closed system. But if perception collapses a state, then recursion isn’t closed—it’s interrupted. Her architecture can’t accommodate observer-initiated transformation.”

“Hm,” Anaxagoras said, and the sound meant something closer to go on than I disagree.

“She builds her theory like it’s immune to contradiction,” you added. “But self-similarity under stress doesn’t hold. That makes her framework aesthetically brilliant, but structurally fragile.”

His mouth twitched, not quite into a smile. “She’d despise that sentence. And quote it in a rebuttal.”

You hesitated. “Have you two debated this before?”

“Formally? Twice. Informally?” A beat. “Often. Cerces doesn’t seek consensus. She seeks pressure.”

“She’s the most cited mind in the field,” you noted.

“And she deserves to be,” he said, simply. “That’s what makes her infuriating.”

The breeze shifted as you exited the hall and entered the sunlit walkway between buildings. You adjusted your bag, eyes still on the open document.

“I marked something in this section,” you said, tapping the screen. “Where she refers to consciousness having an echo of structure. I don’t think she’s wrong—but I think it’s incomplete.”

Anaxagoras raised a brow. “Incomplete how?”

“If consciousness is just an echo, it implies no agency. But what if recursion here is just… a footprint, and not the walker?”

Now he did smile—barely. “You sound like her, ten years ago.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“She used to flirt with metaphysics,” he said. “Before tenure, before the awards. She wrote a paper once proposing that recursive symmetry might be a byproduct of a soul-like property—a field outside time. She never published it.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “She said, and I quote, ‘Cowardice isn’t always irrational.’”

You let out a soft breath—part laugh, part disbelief.

“She sounds more like you than I thought.”

“Don’t insult either of us,” he murmured, dry.

You glanced over. “Do you think she was right? Back then?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Then: “I think she was closer to something true that neither of us were ready to prove.”

Anaxagoras led the way toward the far side of the cafeteria, bypassing open tables and settling near the windows. The view wasn’t much—just a patch of campus green dotted with a few students pretending it was warm enough to sit outside—but it was quiet.

You sat across from him, setting your tray down with a muted clink. He’d ordered black coffee and a slice of what looked like barely tolerable faculty lounge pie. You hadn’t really bothered—just tea and a half-hearted sandwich you were already ignoring.

The silence was polite, not awkward. Still, you didn’t want it to stretch too long.

“I’d like to pick her mind.”

He glanced up from stirring his coffee, slow and steady.

You nodded once. “Her work in subjective structure on pre-intentional cognition it overlaps more than I expected with what I’ve been sketching in my own models. And Entanglement—her take on intersubjective recursion as a non-local dynamic? That’s… not something I want to ignore.”

“I didn’t think you would,” he said. 

“I don’t want to question her,” you said, adjusting the angle of your tablet. “Not yet. I want to understand what she thinks happens to subjectivity at the boundary of recursion, where perception becomes self-generative rather than purely receptive. And many other things, but—”

He watched you closely. Not skeptical—never that—but with the faint air of someone re-evaluating an equation that just gave a new result.

You tapped the edge of the screen. “There’s a gap here, just before she moves into her case study. She references intersubjective collapse, but doesn’t elaborate on the experiential artifacts. If she’s right, that space might not be emptiness—it might be a nested field. A kind of affective attractor.”

“Or an illusion of one,” he offered.

“Even so,” you said, “I want to know where she stands. Not just in print. In dialogue. I want to observe her.”

There was a beat.

Then, quietly, Anaxagoras said, “She’s never been fond of students trying to shortcut their way into her circles.”

“I’m not trying to–.” You met his gaze, unflinching. “I just want to be in the room.” 

There was a pause—measured, as always—but he understood your request.

Then, Anaxagoras let out a quiet breath. The edge of his mouth curved, just slightly—not the smirk he wore in lectures, or the fleeting amusement he reserved for Ilias’ more absurd interjections. A… strange acknowledgment made just for you.

“I suspected you’d want to attend eventually… even if you didn’t think so at the time.” He said, voice low.

He stirred his coffee once more, slow and precise, before continuing.

“I submitted an application on your behalf.” His eyes flicked up, sharp and clear. “The results were set to be mailed to me—” After a brief pause, he says, “I thought it would be better to have the door cracked open than bolted shut.”

Your breath caught, but you didn’t speak yet. You stared at him, something between disbelief and stunned silence starting to rise.

“… And?”

He held your gaze. “They approved it.” He said it matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t a gesture of profound academic trust. “Your mind is of the kind that Cerces doesn’t see in students. Not even doctoral candidates. If you ever wanted to ask them aloud, you’d need space to make that decision without pressure.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the rush of warmth flooding your chest before you could even fully process it. It wasn’t just the opportunity, not just the weight of the academic favor he’d extended—it was the fact that he had done this for you.

You looked down at your tablet for a beat, then back up. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t sure it would matter to you yet.” His tone was even, but not distant.

Your chest tightened, heart hammering in your ribcage as a strange weight settled over you.

You leaned back slightly, absorbing it—not the opportunity, but the implication that he had practically read your mind.

You swallowed hard, fighting the surge of something fragile, something that wanted to burst out but couldn’t quite take form.

“And if I’d never brought it up?” you asked.

“I would have let the approval lapse.” He took a sip of coffee, still watching you. “The choice would have always been yours.”

Something in your chest pulled taut, then loosened.

“Thank you,” you said—quiet, sincere.

He dipped his head slightly, as if to say: of course.

Outside, through the high cafeteria windows, the light shifted—warmer now, slanting gold against the tiles. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. 

You’re halfway back to your dorm when you see them.

The bench is impossible to miss—leaning like it’s given up on its academic potential and fully embraced retirement. Dog is curled beneath it, mangy but somehow dignified, and Mydei’s crouched beside him, offering the crust from a purloined sandwich while Phainon gently brushes leaves out of its fur.

They clock you immediately.

“Look who’s survived their tryst with the divine,” Mydei calls out, peeling a bit of bread crust off for the dog, who blinks at you like it also knows too much.

“Ah,” he calls, sitting up. “And lo, they return from their sacred rites.”

You squint. “What?”

“I mean, I personally assumed you left to get laid,” Ilias says breezily, tossing a leaf in your direction. “Academic, spiritual, physical—whatever form it took, I’m not here to judge.”

“Lunch,” you deadpan. “It was lunch.”

“Sure,” he says. “That’s what I’d call him too.”

You stop beside them, arms loosely crossed. “You’re disgusting.”

Mydei finally glances up, smirking faintly. “We were betting how long it’d take you to return. Phainon said 45 minutes. I gave you an hour.”

“And I said that you might not come back at all,” Ilias corrects proudly. “Because if someone offered me a quiet corner and a waist as sntached as his, I’d disappear too.”

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “You’re projecting.”

“I’m romanticizing,” he counters. “It’s a coping mechanism.”

“So,” you ask, settling onto the bench, “Mydei, did you get accepted?”

Mydei doesn’t look up. “I did.”

Phainon sighs and leans back on his elbows. “I didn’t. Apparently my application lacks ‘structural focus’ and ‘foundational viability.’” He makes air quotes with a dramatic flourish, voice flat with mockery. “But the margins were immaculate.”

Ilias scoffs immediately, latching onto the escape hatch. “See? That’s why I didn’t apply.”

“You didn’t apply,” you repeat slowly, side-eyeing him.

“I was protecting myself emotionally,” he says, raising a finger. 

“Even after Kira asked you to?” you remind him.

“I cherish her emotional intelligence deeply, but I also have a very specific allergy to what sounds like academic jargon and judgment,” he replies, hand to chest like he’s delivering tragic poetry. 

You snort. “So you panicked and missed the deadline?”

“Semantics.”

The dog lets out a sleepy huff. Mydei strokes behind its ear and finally glances up at you. “I still can’t believe you didn’t apply. The panel was impressive.” 

You hesitate, staring down at the scuffed corner of your boot, when your phone dings.

One new message:

From: Anaxagoras   Subject: Addendum   Dear Student, I thought this might be of interest as well. – A.  

There’s one attachment.  

Cerces_MnemosyneFramework.pdf

You click immediately.  

Just to see.

The abstract alone hooks you. It’s Cerces again—only this time, she’s writing about memory structures through a mythopoetic lens, threading the Mnemosyne archetype through subjective models of cognition and reality alignment.

She argues that memory isn’t just retentive—it’s generative. That remembrance isn’t about the past, but about creating continuity. That when you recall something, you’re actively constructing it anew.

It’s dense. Braided with references. Challenging. 

You hear Ilias say your name like he’s winding up to go off into another overdramatic monologue, but your focus is elsewhere.

Because it’s still there—his voice from earlier, lodged somewhere between your ribs.

"A brief acknowledgement would have sufficed."

You’d let it pass. Swallowed the dry implication of it. But it’s been sitting with you ever since— he hadn’t needed to say more for you to hear what he meant.

You didn’t know what to say. Maybe you still don’t.

But you open a reply window. anyway.

Your thumb hovers for a beat.

Re: Still interested Nice paper, Prof. Warm regards, Y/N.

The moment it sends, you want to eat your keyboard.

He replies seconds later.

Re: – “Warm” seems generous. Ice cold regards, – A.

The moment it sends, you want to eat your keyboard.

It’s a small, almost imperceptible warmth spreading across your chest, but you force it back down, not wanting to make too much of it. 

Then you laugh. Not loud, but the sort of surprised, almost nervous laugh that catches in your chest, because somehow, you hadn’t anticipated this. You thought he’d be... formal. Distant. You didn’t expect a bit of humor—or was it sarcasm?

Your fingers hover over your phone again. Should you reply? What do you even say to that? You glance up, and that’s when you see it—Ilias’ eyes wide, his face scrunched in disbelief, like he’s trying to piece together the pieces of a puzzle.”

He points at you like he’s discovered some deep, dark secret. “You’re laughing?”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face, trying to will the heat out of your cheeks.

He doesn’t even try to hold back the mock horror in his voice after peeping into your phone. “Anaxagoras is the one that;s got you in a fit of giggles?”

Ilias gasps theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Wait. Wait wait wait. Is he funny now? What, did he send you a meme? ‘Here’s a diagram of metaphysical collapse. Haha.’” He deepens his voice into something pompous and dry: “Student, please find attached a comedic rendering of epistemological decay.”

You’re already shaking your head. “He didn’t even say hello.”

“Even better,” Ilias says, dramatically scandalized. “Imagine being so academically repressed you forget how greetings work.”

He pauses, then squints at you suspiciously.

“You know what?” he says, snapping his fingers. “You two are made for each other.”

Your head whips toward him. 

He shrugs, all smug innocence. “No, no, I mean it. The dry wit. The existential despair. The zero social cues. It’s beautiful, really. You communicate exclusively through thesis statements and mutual avoidance. A match made in the archives.”

“I’m just saying,” he sing-songs, “when you two end up publishing joint papers and exchanging footnotes at midnight, don’t forget about us little people.”

You give him a flat look. “We won’t need footnotes.”

“Oh no,” Ilias says, pretending to be shocked. “It’s that serious already?”

You stomp on his foot.

-> next.

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(send an ask/comment to be added!)

[princesssae]

{Chocolate Chip Cookies}

[Megumi Fushiguro x Platonic!Fem!Reader] [Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader]

In Which -> You and eight-year-old Megumi bond after having a hard time sleeping!

Word Count -> 1.3k

Authors Note -> Yayayay I’m SO excited! I love Megumi SO much and I want to write for him more! (Perhaps more fics with him slowly growing up?)

Warnings -> afab!reader, fluff, established relationship with Gojo, not really any warnings but please let me know if there’s anything I should add!

When Gojo Satoru tells you that he has a child, you assumed that the said “child” would be a fur baby. A dog, cat, or even a mouse. But when you start dating him in your final years of high school, you notice that the “child” is actually a child. A human being. And it’s two children, to be precise.

Satoru is a heavy sleeper. His Infinity flickers in the middle of the night so it’s hard to cuddle with him. Tonight is one of those examples. He’s snoring and his limbs are spread all over the bed.

But that’s not what woke you up tonight. Waking up from your slumber, you look at your nightstand. It’s 3:32am. You’re still a bit drowsy, but you’re able to hear the refrigerator door open and shut. A few seconds later, you hear the slight drag of a chair across your wooden floors. You grimace. Hopefully it didn’t scratch the floor.

Is it someone breaking in? No, it can’t be. Their cursed energy feels similar, though. You slowly get out from your side of the bed, slide on your slippers and head to the kitchen.

The sound of your footsteps makes the burglar stop their movement. You turn the corner and you see a child. This child has a bed head and loose, black and yellow Batman pajamas on. You internally laugh. It’s Megumi.

“What are you doing up so late, ‘Gumi?” You ask.

He flinches. He’s eight years old now. It’s been 2 years since you’ve met him, and one year since you’ve moved in with the Gojo-Fushiguro family. You’d like to think that he tolerates you more than Gojo, considering the fact that Gojo likes to mess with poor Megumi often.

Does he think that he’s in trouble? You hope not. All this effort over the past few years can burn in a matter of seconds.

“I wanted milk,” he states. “Because I’m thirsty.” He looks like a kitten on the side of the road. Cute.

You look at the counter and see that there’s only one Pokémon themed plastic cup occupying the space. You look at the fridge and see one of your dining room chairs pressed against the door.

“Did you need help getting the milk?” You ask. He can’t reach, of course. That explains the noise from earlier.

You think of the last time you put the groceries in the refrigerator. It was earlier that day that you remember Satoru wanting to help put the groceries up despite not knowing where everything went. You make a mental note to tell Satoru that the milk should not be tucked away in the back of the refrigerator, where both Tsumiki and Megumi cannot reach. One time, he put the milk in the freezer and you were searching everywhere for it.

You set the chair back in the dining room and rummage through the stack of dumplings and sushi that Gojo begged to get, for himself obviously. Pulling the milk carton from the fridge, you set it down on the counter and let Megumi pour his own amount. He’s old enough and you trust him not to spill it.

Now, the both of y’all are more awake, but still silent. Suddenly, an idea pops in your mind.

“Would you like to make chocolate chip cookies? Tsumiki made the dough but we didn't finish making the batch last night,” you explain.

Megumi’s silent for a few seconds before he speaks up. “Sure,” he says. But before you do anything, you tell Megumi that it’s always proper etiquette to wash your hands before eating and making food in the kitchen.

While he washes his hands, you walk over to the oven and set it out to preheat. Going over to the fridge, you find the dough stashed away and covered from the vegetables sitting on top of it.

Did Gojo try to hide it? You giggle and get the dough out. It doesn’t take long for it to thaw out. You grab the baking pan and set in front of Megumi.

He watches you take a decent amount of cookie dough and roll it into a ball before placing it on the cookie tray. Then, he grabs some dough from the bowl and proceeds to make different shapes before placing them on the sheet. It’s okay though, because they’ll all end up flat anyways.

When y’all are done making the amount of desired cookies, you wash your hands again and take out the chocolate chips. Even though Tsumiki has added more than enough chips, you know Megumi has a sweet tooth. Maybe you’re also feeling a little sugar yourself.

“Would you like to add more chocolate chips to your cookies?” You ask. Megumi nods and takes the chocolate out of your hand. He makes smiley faces on his cookies before he tells you that he’s done.

Then the oven beeps to let you know that it’s done preheating, you grab the cookie tray and set it in the oven. You notice that one of the cookies doesn’t have chocolate chips in it at all. Ah, so that’s what he’s doing, you think.

You pick Megumi up and he punches 10 minutes in the timer on the oven. While the both of y’all wait, you refill his milk and get a glass for yourself. The rest of the time is spent making small talk about school, homework, teachers, his demon dogs, etc.

When the timer ends, you click clear and when you take the tray out of the oven, those golden brown cookies smell so very good. You let them cool down before setting them on a plate, giving the first cookie to Megumi.

After taking the first bite, his eyes close for just a second longer than needed, and that’s how you know that he likes it. When he takes his second cookie, the one without any chocolate in it, he splits it in half and summons his demon dogs. He feeds each of them half of the cookie and pets them for a bit. In the next few minutes, the cookies are gone in a flash and the milk is no longer there. You put the dishes in the sink and tell Megumi not to worry about it, and that you’ll get to it tomorrow.

As you walk him back to his bedroom, you tell him that, “Next time, we’re going to have to give you a glass of water on your nightstand so you don’t make any more noise in the middle of the night.” He laughs at that.

But you both know that neither of you mind these late night shenanigans. As he enters his room, his dogs find their spot on the bed to sleep with him. You watch with a smile, and once he’s settled into bed, you tell him to sleep well and get plenty of rest for the big day tomorrow.

The next morning, you wake up with Gojo screeching his head off and running into your shared bedroom. He shoves the empty plate of cookies in your face, but it’s not entirely empty. Melted chocolate chip residue is the evidence of the cookies you and Megumi enjoyed and savored last night.

Satoru whines and tells you that the next time you make cookies, you should wake him up, no matter what. As you smile in response to Gojo’s complaining, you don’t fail to notice the sly grin on Megumi’s face looking in between the crack of you and Satoru’s bedroom door.

Please do not copy, translate, or alter my work without my permission!

[fayerie]

‹𝟹 .ᐟ gojo’s Infinity isn’t just a defense — it’s his ultimate tease.

‹𝟹 .ᐟ unhinged gojo x f!reader , mdni , not proofread

cw: smut , teasing , humiliation , use of supernatural ability (infinity) for: sensory play, orgasm control / denial.

you’re kneeling on the bed, chest pressed to the mattress, ass raised high like you’re on display in a fucking gallery.

your hands clutch the soft sheets beneath you, fingers digging in as you try to steady your racing heart.

gojo is hovering behind you, just barely out of reach. his cock is pressed flush against your slick entrance, teasing you with shallow, maddening thrusts — sliding in, then pulling back, never fully giving you the satisfaction you crave.

his fingers twitch near your clit, tantalizing you with phantom touches that feel like fire, but he never actually makes contact, oh why is that ? because he’s using his infinity, that damned invisible barrier.

“patience is a virtue, babe,” gojo purrs, voice dripping with smug delight as he leans close, his white hair brushing your shoulder; never pausing the torturous relentless toggle between activation and deactivation.

“the best things in life come to those who wait. like this.” he presses a teasing hip against your ass, pushing you down a little further onto his cock. “see? you’re dripping just by thinking about it.”

you whimper, hips trembling. “s-toru, please…” you gasp, voice shaky. “just… touch me... f'ckin..asshole.”

he chuckles, the sound low and amused, as if you’ve just told him the funniest joke in the world.

“oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, fingers hovering an impossible millimeter away from your clit, “i’m touching you right now. it’s just... very exclusive contact.”

you try to arch into him, reaching out to pull him closer, but your fingers hesitate — halted just shy of his wrist, as if an invisible shield shimmers between you, keeping your touch forever out of reach.

“infinity,” he smirks. “i’m untouchable, literally.”

your breath catches. the teasing rhythm is driving you insane.

“you like that? me almost touching you? that little spark? that burning frustration?” his voice is a lazy drawl, cocky as hell. “that’s the real game here.”

you bite your lip, moaning softly as his fingers twitch again. the wet heat pooling between your legs grows hotter, your hips rocking against him without control.

“nnngh, storu…” you whine, voice thick with need. “please—just one touch.”

he presses a finger closer, still not quite touching, and you shiver violently.

“mmm, you’re so needy.” he nips the shell of your ear, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “what’s this? ‘satoru, i’m gonna—mmmph!’” he smirks against your skin as you gasp, a strangled moan slipping past your lips. “already breaking, huh?”

your hips jerk, thrusting down, desperate to catch even the slightest contact.

“pathetic,” he teases with a grin you feel in his voice.

then — finally — he lets his finger brush your clit, slow and precise.

electricity jolts through you like lightning.

you cry out, hips bucking hard. “ahhh—toru!”

he chuckles, utterly satisfied at how easily he breaks you.

“attagirl,” he breathes, sliding fully inside you at last, filling you deep and slow. “now this is where the fun really begins.”

his hand curls around your hip, holding you steady as his other fingers circle your swollen clit, sending shivers down your spine.

“you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs cockily. “dripping like you want me to ruin you.”

your moans weave through the room like a whispered hymn, beneath them the wet symphony of skin meeting skin — the slick, lingering traces of desire stretching between you both, trembling in the heated air.

“satoru—mmph—fuck—right there—oh god—please—” he grins against your neck, teeth grazing the skin.

“only the best spot for my favorite brat.”

your body trembles, legs shaking with the force of your building orgasm.

“c’mon,” he breathes, voice roughening, “say it. tell me how badly you want me to make you come.”

you pant, eyes fluttering closed. “please, toru… make me come.”

he chuckles again, hips rolling in slow, powerful thrusts, “good girl.”

you’re drowning in the mixture of his cock deep inside you and his fingers circling your clit like a merciless predator.

“ahhhh—oh god, i’m—” you moan, voice breaking with need. “i’m gonna—”

“cum for me,” he commands, voice velvet dark and dangerously smooth.

your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, muscles clenching around him, breath hitching as you scream his name.

gojo holds you tight, chest rising and falling against your back.

“see?” he says smugly, voice softening. “sometimes the best touch… is the one you almost can’t have.”

you laugh breathlessly, sweaty and spent, your fingers curling into the sheets.

gojo’s grin presses against your skin like a promise: he’s just getting started.

divider by @/cafekitsune // art by momoya348 on twt .ᐟ

a/n ‹𝟹: should i make this a series + make a mlist containing all my unhinged gojo drabbles bc i have so many ideas u would notttt believe (freak) now WHO said that ??? also this was quick so it's not as good as the others but still ^_^

[candy69gurl]

I love your Noncon stories so much... like DAMNNNN..... CAN you please do a teacher gojo (Gojo sensei) x student female reader noncon???? Where she trusts Gojo so much but at the end of the day she ends up being raped by Gojo..... pleaseeeeeeeeeee 💗💗💗💗

Are you.. not weak?

Teacher Gojo x student f!reader

Warnings- 18+, dark, non/con, mentions of violence blood (fight with curse), age gap (both are adults), public sex, misuse of trust, loss of virginity, nipple play, fingering, blow job, sex against wall, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), mutliple orgasm, raw sex (cumming inside), clit slapping, breeding kink

wc - 4.5k

ART NOT MINE !

The curse swirls and coils, spewing putrid venom at you. You dive out of the way, just evading the devastating strike. The curse screeches and lunges at you again, this time successfully scratching your arm with its sharp claws. You flinch as the venom sears like molten fire against your flesh. The curse charges at you again, its teeth and talons hungry for your flesh. You manage to dodge the assault at the last second, but your stamina is swiftly dwindling.

The curse's venom has burned and left your arm raw. The flesh around the cut is already growing septic, and the pain is excruciating.

The venom rushes through your veins like boiling liquid pain, impairing your judgement and equilibrium. You can hardly stand owing to the shock and anguish. You grab your arm, attempting to stop the flow of blood.

You see the curse about to harm you again.

A-am i going to die?

Gojo's eyes widen as he realises the curse is hitting you. He moves at incredible speeds, appearing beside you in an instant. He pulls you out of the path, accepting the curse himself. His six eyes sparkle brightly as he confronts the curse with strong focus and determination. The curse roars in rage, lashing out at Gojo with its claws and teeth. Gojo does not let the strike hit him due to his infinity blocking any attack attempt to hurt him.

Gojo got the news that you not in your dorm so, so he hurries out to find you, his six eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out where you could possibly be. His cursed energy rises as he explores his surroundings, looking for your scent or any indication of where you could be. He dashes from place to place, looking for any trace of you.

When he sensed you, he dashed to where you were, taking in the sight of you fighting a special grade curse.

He notices that you are damaged, with a burn mark on your arm and venom pouring through your veins. Without hesitation, he utilises his Purple Hollow to break the Special Grade curse. His cursed energy coalesces in his palm as he aims a massive blast at the curse. The Purple hollow hits its target with lethal precision, incinerating the curse instantly. The force of the blast sends the curse flying back and leaves a massive crater behind. Gojo lets out a heavy breath in relief as the curse is no more.

Gojo immediately rushes over to your side, his six eyes scanning you for any potential injuries. He sees that you are unconscious, your breaths slow and shallow. He can see that the venom is still coursing through your veins and the skin around the wound is beginning to scab over. He grimaces in concern as he sees the extent of your injuries.

He softly grabs your arms, lifts you, and carries you on his shoulder.

What was she even thinking.. he sighs, and in a second, Gojo transports you to Shoko using his teleportation power, your limp and unconscious body on his shoulders.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the scene around you became fuzzy and unclear as you tried to make sense of it all.

You're laying in bed with your arm bandaged and a dull aching from your wounds.

You sit up slowly, trying to recall what happened.

Your eyes survey the room, and then to Gojo sitting next to your bed.

"S-sensei?"

He gets up and moves closer to you.

"How do you feel?" he says quietly, his voice full of concerm.

"Mf'ne," you reply.

He gives you a slight smile, his eyes still full with anxiety

"The venom has been neutralised, so your condition is stable for now." He informs you. "You still need to rest. That was a high-level curse.I can't believe you were able to put them off that long."

"Why were you fighting a special grade curse alone.......Do you realise how dangerous that is?"

His tone implies dismay.

"I-", you try to make up something quickly.

He notices the guilt and embarrassment on your face. "You were trying to prove something, weren't you?" 

He asks quietly.

You were up against Miwa, who was apparently a fan girl of Gojo. You failed miserably, failing to land a single hit on her throughout the entire match while she effortlessly evaded your attacks and countered you flawlessly. After the match, you overhear Gojo talking to Miwa.

Gojo: "You did well. Your technique is impressive, especially the way you used the environment to your advantage."

Miwa: "Thank you, sensei."

Gojo smiled at her.

Gojo: Keep this up and one day you will be able to the strongest sorcerer like me.

Miwa squealed and blushed, her face brightens.

You rolled your eyes and felt jealous and embarrassed. You felt determined to prove to GOJO that you're just as good, if not better than her so you decided to go and find a special grade curse to fight, alone.

You continue to roll your eyes as you recall what happened a few days earlier, still feeling envious and ashamed by your bad performance and how much Gojo complimented Miwa.

You snap back to reality and realise you're still in the infirmary bed. Your arm injuries continue to pain, and you feel fatigued and weak. Gojo is still sitting next to your bed, staring at you intently.

"I asked you something, Y/N," Gojo squints his eyes, and you can feel it through the blindfold.

"I-i, yes. I only wanted to prove myself that I am strong, and I failed."

Gojo sighs with disappointment.

"Trying to prove yourself by fighting a special grade curse alone.. that was reckless. It's just too dangerous." He looks at you with a mixture of concern and frustration in his eyes. "You're just lucky that I was able to find you in time before anything even worse happened."

"S-sorry.."

He shakes his head, still looking at you with concern.

"It's alright. Just... don't try to do something like this again, okay? If something happens to you, I can never forgive myself", his voice laced with a slight hint of amusement.

"h-huh?" He smiles slightly "I mean it. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything bad happened to you." He pauses, his voice softening "You're my... favorite student after all"

He notices the blush on your cheeks and his smile widens. "Don't go blushing on me now", he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

He stops and gives you a serious look.

"You do understand that I'm saying this because I care about you, right?"

You nod without looking at his face.

"Just know that I'm constantly looking out for you and I will not allow anything bad to happen to you."

He pauses again, his face becoming more serious.

"I will keep my eyes on you."

You notice that Gojo has indeed been keeping a close watch over you. You can feel his eyes on you at all times, watching your every move and making sure you stay safe. He is also keeping an eye on who you talk to and what you do, making sure that you don't do anything foolish again.

He's been very vigilant and keeping a close eye on you, which makes you feel both secure and a bit uneasy at the same time.

Despite feeling somewhat uneasy, you trust Gojo and feel secure that he will protect you and keep you safe. You know that he is only doing this to make sure that you don't do anything foolish again, and ultimately you feel reassured by his watchful eyes.

It's true, you know that Gojo will come rushing to your rescue at the slightest indication of injury or discomfort. He's always keeping an eye on you and ready to act at any moment. His vigilance makes you feel both safe and loved, and you realize how lucky you are to have him. You know that he would do anything to protect and heal you.

The other sorcerers started noticing the strange behavior of Gojo. They found it odd that he began keeping a close eye on you and always watching out for you. They were wondering why he was doing this, as usually he doesn't bother about such small matters.

Whenever they pointed this out to him, he would give some reasons like "You're weak" and "You don't know what you are doing" which would make you angrily pout and say "I am not weak!", and "I know what I'm doing".

You are training with Yuji when something unexpected happens, and you find yourself in a lewd position with Yuji on top of you. Yuji fumbles over his own feet and falls on top of you, catching you both off guard. Both of you are flustered.

Just then, Gojo appears from nowhere. He sees you and Yuji in a very provocative position. He grabs Yuji's hoodie and pulls him off you.

"What you two are doing?" He notices Yuji blushing and stuttering, and you're still shaken and flustered by the situation.

"W-we were just t-training ..." Yuji stutters.

"Really. T-training is..." You also stutter, and you both appear flustered and embarrassed.

Suddenly, something explodes inside Gojo. At first, he thought it was just his annoyance with Yuji, but there was more to it. Fear or an unknown emotion he is not sure of it. He wanted to be your first choice, not anyone else.

Yuji says, "Uh.. I.. I have an important work.. I have to leave now." Yuji walks away with an awkward smile.

You both stand awkwardly, Gojo's expression unreadable. You avoid looking at him because you can feel his intense stare on you.

"Uh, I need to go somewhere," you suddenly say.

As you're about to leave, he says "You are not going anywhere."

"W-why not?"

"Because I said so. You are not going anywhere", his voice demmanding and angry He says with some intensity in that, his eyes are pinning you to your place.

" I-i don't understand why not ", you argue

"You don't need to understand."

You can see tension building up in his body, his muscles stiffening . He's acting weird than usual..... you cannot put your finger to it, but something's definitely wrong.

"Well , YOU CANT JUST ORDER ME AROUND LIKE THAT" you suddenly snap.

He stares at you with a fiery look, his eyes like daggers "Do not give me that attitude." His voice is laced with anger, he's clearly not in a good mood. He seems to be losing his patience with you.

"S-stop making fool of me infront of everyone."

He continues to stare at you for a minute, his rage rising

"Is that what you think?" He askss angrily, leaning closer to you while speaking.

You move back, now your back is against the wall of the Jujutsu High building

He appears to notice you leaning back and steps back slightly to give you some personal space. He's still looking at you with fierce eyes, and his voice remains keen as he speaks.

"I'm not making a fool of you in front of everyone. I'm just trying to protect you."

"I.. I don't need your protection"

He grimaces at that statement, his temper boiling up inside him once again. "Hah! You don't remember do you?", his voice harsh as he slams his hands on the wall trapping you against it. His voice is laced with anger as he speaks, he looks down at you. "You do not need my protection, then why the hell were you dying that day?", he growls.

"I.. am really grateful to you for that but that does not m-", you protest He interrupts you, his voice harsh.

"Shut up!" He's livid now, he takes off his blindfold with one hand and you can see his crystal blue, like diamond sword as he glares at you. "If you are really grateful why don't you show that to me?"

Your face shows confusion.

He's so close to you that you can feel his hot breath on your neck. He seems to be enjoying making you squirm, his eyes still filled with an intense look.  "Show me how grateful you are. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

You try to push him away, but he holds his ground, not letting you go. You can feel his chest now against your body, heat radiating from him. He gives you a smirk as his hands move to hold your wrist, restraining you.

Your voice shake as you understand the situation you are in, "H-how am I gonna do that?"

"Hmmm..by giving me your virginity" he says with a hint of amusement in his voice .

Your eyes widen in fear and excitement, "Y-your joking."

His eyes are still intense and serious as he looks down on you. "Am I though?..."

"Sensei pls let me go", you plead, struggling.

"You wouldn’t wanna be on my bad side, sweetheart.” He grinned slyly, his grip tightening around her wrist. His breath ghosting across her cheek. He presses her against the wall more as his ears fill with her pondering heartbeats. “I will be gentle I promise..” His lips graze your earlobe gently, sending chills down your spine. 

"N-no please", your voice begging to let go.

“Hmm Don't you trust me Y/N? ” Gojo purs into your ear, his free hand roaming along your body, “I never intend to hurt you."

He releases his grip on your arms letting them fall down, and they shift to grab his shoulders to push him away. His hands cups your cheeks, squeezing them gently, keeping you close to his body. He chuckles darkly, a sinister look dancing in his eyes. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to give you what you need.”

He does not wait for your response, his hands already travelling down to your legs going up to your thighs under your uniform skirt. You bite your lower lip closing eyes "Aww, you like that, baby? That’s good.” His voice dripped with seduction as he continues upward, lingering on your thighs. Gojo can't help but chuckle softly, his mouth hovering above yours.

“Guess you ain’t as resistant as you pretend to be.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours, seizing the opportunity to capture your lips with his own. His tongue darts out to taste you, claiming ownership of your mouth.  Gojo wants you, he needs you, and now he's taking you right here. His hands roam freely, exploring every inch of your lovely body. As the kiss intensified, he feels your submission within it. His hand moves up to cup your breast, kneading it gently through your clothes.

“Let me have you,” he growls his teeth gently grazing your bottom lip. His other hand slide down your side, cupping your ass and pulling you closer, the heat building up in your core is unmistakable. 

"P-please not here, w-what if someone-"

"Then you better not make any noise." He whispers against your lips. His hands shift, beginning to tug at the buttons of your uniform shirt.

“We’ll do this right, ok?” He says reassuringly, yet demanding obedience. He can't resist the urge anymore, his body screams for you, his soul desires you. He needs to make this moment last, to imprint it onto both your minds forever. He starts unbuttoning your uniform, revealing delicate skin beneath.Your eyes follow his hand movements. 

A gentle bite on your neck made you gasp softly; a rush of adrenaline filled the air. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll protect you from everything else.”

His voice was rough, almost animalistic in its hunger. He was determined to satisfy his primal urges. He unbottons all the bottons of your shirt.

You try to hide your exposed chest. 

Gojo's smirk widened as he feels you hiding yourself from him. "Don't do it.” He orders hoarsely, playing with the strap of your bra. "Don't you trust me?" 

You nod, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

He takes your hand which was hiding your breasts and kisses them gently. Pulling your bra up, he reveals your breasts, nipples hardening at his gaze. His thumbs brushed against your nipples, teasing them softly.  His hands travel down your waist, lifting your thigh up. His thumb rubbing against your clad clit.

You flinch at his touch, his lips curl up to an evil smile as he finds your neck again, nipping and sucking, marking you as his own.

  "Let me take care of you, baby." He pushes your undies aside, thrusting a finger inside you.

Your eyes shut close at his sudden thrust, "Aah, s-so sudden.." your one arm wrap itself around his neck and the other grabs his shoudler for balance.

"Your so wet yet you say you don't want this.. So Tight, ah" Gojo speaks, his voice low and husky. He adds another finger, stretching you wide. "You have no idea how much we both want this, Y/N. It's been killing me – waiting, watching you from a ar."

"nngh n-no more ssensei, c-cant stand"

Gojo's smirk grew bigger, his fingers moving inside you faster. “Can’t handle this, huh?” He chuckles darkly, thrusting his fingers deeper. "If you can't handle my fingers, how are you gonna handle my cock hm?"

"Pls I can't take anymore."

“You said you are not weak, why don't you try and prove it?” His voice was rough, his hips grinding against you. He hooks his finger on your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Hnghh-" you arch your body as his fingers move faster, hitting a spot that makes you whimper softly, your nails digging into his shoulder as you feel yourself reaching climax, he feels your walls tightening more. his other hand leaves your waist and grabs your breasts, squeezing them roughly, pinching and rolling your nipples slightly. His fingers curl inside you, and you cry out creaming with his fingers in you.

"Shh", he harshly covers your mouth, "you don't want people to see you like this do you?"

You shake your head frantically, as knees shake and you gradually collapse to the ground. He lets you collapse on ground as you breath after such an intense orgasm for the first time in your life.

“Easy, my little bird,” he coos, unbuckeling his belt pulling his erect shaft. “Open your mouth” 

Your eyes shift to his member to his face "W-what?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Y/N." He says, his voice thick with lust. "Open your mouth if you don't want to get hurt when I fuck you with it." He repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

"I-its so big"

"Don't worry I will guide you through it" You slowly open your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. He smiles, his eyes filled with lust and desire. He slowly thrusts his cock into your mouth, feeling your tongue swirl around him. He moans softly, his fingers tangling in your hair protecting the back of your head, as he pushes your head against the wall. He thrusts deeper, feeling your gag reflex kick in.

He pulls back slightly, giving you a chance to breathe. He thrusts back in, feeling your throat constrict around him. He moans louder, his hands pulling your head closer to him. He thrusts faster, feeling your nose press against his stomach.

Gojo grins, "That's right, take it all." He groans, his hips pistoning harder, forcing you to take his full length. He slams into you, thrusting in and out of your mouth, his movements becoming erratic. He's so close, his eyes roll back in pleasure. His fingernails dig into your scalp, his balls slapping against your chin.

"Almost there..." he pulls out his dick before he can cum. "Mhm..Nah.. Not gonna cum in your mouth..", drools drip down your chin. You inhale as much air as possible "Good girl." He praises, his breath ragged. He picks you up with his hands beneath your thighs , he presses your legs tightly against the wall as he rubs himself against your wetness.

"D-dont go any further..", you protest.

“I promise I'll pull out if it hurts.” He says, his breath hot against your ear. He positions himself at your entrance, his tip sliding in easily. "I can never hurt you", he gives you a small peck on your lips, as he pushes himself for inside you.

"P-please it hurts .. Ahh.. p-pull it out"

"If you struggle more its gonna hurt you, so relax" He growls, his voice thick with lust. He pushes himself in, inch by inch.

Your body shakes with each inch he pushing inside you. Tears roll down your cheek, toes curling at the pain yet pleasure.

"You crying?" He asks with a teasing look in his face, his pace slowing down. "it won't hurt forever" He thrusts fully in you.

You body arches back against the wall.

"Just relax." He breathes, his hips rocking against you. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He asks, his dick sliding in and out of you rhythmically. He pumps you slowly at first, letting you adjust to the feeling.

Your mind is blank, your just taking everything he is giving to you. He starts thrusting faster, his grip on your hips tightens.

"You're so fucking good, baby. So tight and wet...” He pants, his eyes locked on yours. He slams himself inside you, your walls gripping his size. He bites his lower lip, trying not to release too soon. He slams against your womb, feeling you tighten around him. He kisses your forehead . "I'll cherish you forever, I'll protect you, promise". He holds your face with one hand, forcing you to look into his eyes. He leans down, his lips capturing yours. "I love you." He says between kisses.

"S-sensei hnghh .. a-ah .. l-love you too.. a-ah" Gojo groans, his thrusts becoming harder and rougher, You wrap your legs around his waist to feel him deeper.

"Hah! I knew you felt it too.." He thrusts harder, deep thrusts making you moan loudly. He grips your ass, making sure every inch goes in. "Tell me again! Tell me how much you love me!" He roars, one of his hand squeezed your breasts while the other was placed on the wall maintaining balance. His grip on your ass tightens as he feels his climax approaching.

“Love you!” You scream, your nails digging into his shoulders. "

"Yes! That's it!” He roars, his hips bucking wildly. He sucks on your breasts alternatively and fiercely, his teeth grazing your nipple.

“Fuck! Yes!” He releases, your breast with a lewd sound turning you around, pushing you against the wall, by your neck as he slams into you from the back

"Gon' cum", you whimper.

His dick slides in and out of you at a frenzied pace. He spanks your ass, causing you to yelp. He thrusts deeply, your walls milking him.

"Cum for me, baby!" He groans, his pace increasing. "Do it!" His voice tingling your ears as his thrusts getting more and more forceful. His nails dig into your skin as he nears his peak.

"mhm y-yes.. ah", you  cum, squeezing his dick so tightly that he can't help but moan His hips slowing down letting you relax before jerking and spilling inside you, filling your womb .

He collapses on top of you, catching his breath. "You're mine.. Now that I have take your virginity." He mutters, nuzzling your hair. "No one can take you away from me." He whispers, his heart racing.

He lifts away from you.. Your nails glide down the wall as your knees go weak and you collapse on the ground with your ass high up and his seed spilling out of you His cum dripping down your thighs "W-why did you cum inside?", your voice still shaken. He smirks, kneeling beside you, he cleans you up, his fingers running over your sensitive clit. "The way your walls were squeezing me. Seemed they didn't want to leave my dick alone mhm" He spreads your legs, admiring his work.

"Don't worry gon buy you emergency contraception" He laughs, shaking his head. "Though you would look good with my child" He slaps your cunt only to watch his seed drooling down and your walls clench around nothing.

"Let's go shall we? or you gon keep your ass high up in the air for me to invade you more"

You get up, glaring at him and try to walk but falls down but gojo holds before you fall. Gojo chuckles, holding your waist not letting you fall.

“You’re so cute when you try to be mad but fail, Y/N.” He says, smiling brightly. "Looks like you won't be able to walk for a few days huh" He says, helping you walk.

Yuji and Nobara notice you two approaching them, and Yuji's face lightens with amusement.

"Are you Okay Y/N?" Yuji smirks and raises his eyebrow.

Gojo shrugs. "Ahahahahahahaha.. She just fell down and I had to look out for her as I usually do"

Nobara rolls her eyes and whispers to Yuji, who giggles. "I wonder what happened here." She chuckles, crossing her arms.

Megumi looks at you with concern on his face.

Gojo snickers as he holds you tighter. "I told you she's fragile," he says, his arm draped around your shoulder.

You yell back at him "I AM NOT WEAKKK"