#but still adrenal

[intersex-support]

hi! im sure you get sick of getting this but i need some help as im questioning intersex after many years and lots of research. specifically im question if i have swcah. ive had pots symptoms for as long as i can accurately recall and am close to constantly in some level of adrenal fatigue, im always craving salt and having electrolyte imbalances as well as feeling dehydrayed easily and having awful circulation.

physically, i had a lot of early growth spurts and was one of my tallest classmates, but now as an adult im barely average, about as tall as my dad who is kind of short for his circumstances. ive been growing facial hair since middle school, and now that i identify as some? flavor of trans masc? almost everyone ive met in recent years asks me how long ive been on T, based on my voice and amount of face and body hair. ive never in my life had access to T, i havent started it, and people are genuinely shocked by it.

[possibly tmi trying to be medical]

i also absolutely have clitoromegaly, thats another reason partners as well have asked before if i have been on T, as well even growing up and before i had any concept of what intersex conditions were, i knew there was something off there and i would awkwardly (like a very small child) tell people i *actually* had, um, "both" when i was gendered as a kid, until i got told by my parents to stop because i was wrong.

final thing probably: i had to get a full physical at 11, including genital physical, and there was a point that my mother was pulled aside and whispered something that she never told me no matter how much i asked. ive been growing increasingly worried lately that it was related to an intersex condition in someway, even if not using those terms, but since im no contact i cant ask now. sorry, i know that one is anecdotal, so feel free to ignore it.

i just want to know why i am the way i am

hi! again! i forgot to mention that i started puberty around 10-11 and ive never had a very normal cycle, sometimes it would be almost normal for a few months then i would go months without anything again, and eventually a really short but really intense, painful, heavy cycle after so long of nothing, its always been like this for me. 2/2

Hey anon!

So, I've done some research to answer this question but I am not an expert on salt wasting CAH and def would reccomend checking things with a doctor if possible. It defintely sounds like you have a lot of symptoms of CAH. Having clitoromegaly, growth spurts but now mostly average, having body hair, the irregular periods--all of those things really stand out to me as symptoms of CAH, and also especially the doctor keeping something secret from you, cause that happens to so many intersex kids.

What I'm less certain about is if you could have gone this far into life without being diagnosed with salt wasting CAH. I know that newborn screening for salt wasting CAH started in the 1980s, but I entirely believe it's possible that it could have been missed, or wherever you were born didn't screen you, or something like that. My understanding, however, is that salt wasting CAH is life threatening if not treated and I'm wondering if it is possible that you could have gotten into adulthood without ever going into adrenal crisis. From everything I've read, it seems like salt wasting CAH is usually diagnosed in childhood because people with salt wasting CAH will go into adrenal crisis without treatment. Honestly, the only way I really think that you could have salt wasting CAH is if you had gone into a salt wasting crisis while you were a newborn but it was treated, and it was hidden from you. It sounds like there's a complicated relationship with your mother and already a pattern of hiding some medical info from you, so I suppose it could be possible that it happened but the info is not in your medical records. Have you ever been on hydrocortisone, prednisone, or dexamethasone long term, as well fludrocortisone? I'd say only if you have been on those medicines long term and had salt wasting crises, that you could possible have salt wasting CAH.

However, what I think is more likely is that you have a variation of CAH that is not salt wasing and also not NCAH. My first guess would be that you have simple virilizing CAH, which is still considered "classical CAH" but is without salt wasting crises. With SV CAH, people usually have a less severe aldosterone deficiency. This means that you might still have symptoms like hyponatremia (low sodium), hyperkalemia (high potassium), hypoglycemia, dehydration, and could also maybe even cause your poor circulation. Usually, this doesn't progress to the point of salt wasting crisis and is more mild than swCAH, but is generally more severe than NCAH. Besides sv classical CAH, there are also rare forms of CAH caused by defienciencies in other enzymes, which have a wide variety in presentations of symptoms.

Another thing that I just learned about is CAH X, which is a variation of CAH that's comorbid with EDS. If you also have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, it might be worth looking into. With CAH X, there's a specific genetic cause that causes EDS, CAH, and most people are also comorbid with POTS.

Also, there is a chance that you could just have more severe symptoms of NCAH. I just read a study that says 1/3 of people with NCAH have a cortisol insufficency. Cortisol insufficency can also cause weakness, fatigue, dizziness, electrolyte imbalance, low sodium--so there may be a chance that you have NCAH and a more severe cortisol insufficency. Anecdotally, a lot of people with NCAH have POTS comorbid (I do as well!) and there really hasn't been a lot of research on NCAH and POTS. It looks like there might be more of a connection between NCAH and adrenal insufficency then previously thought, but there isn't a lot of research done on NCAH. I read another study talking about how a lot of research papers do not specify whether they include NCAH in their numbers of people with CAH.

Basically, I think that it is unlikely that you've made it to adulthood without getting diagnosed with salt wasting CAH, because salt wasting CAH is basically life threatening if untreated. It is more likely that you have classical simple virilization CAH, a rarer subtype of CAH, or NCAH with severe symptoms.

Please feel free to ask if you have any other questions, and good luck!

-Mod E

[thechronicpaingame]

Today I learned about achenbach syndrome! Ive always had this weird thing with my hands where I get this like spiky pain and it hurts to touch the skin and later on it's bruised (on the inside of my fingers). So when it happened today I decided to have a Google and voila! It's nothing exciting, I just find it so interesting when I find something that's like, oh yeah it's definitely that haha. Medical stuff is my specialist interest and I think always will be haha.

[sanddusted-wisteria]

A Builder, a Researcher, and a Rooftop, Ch. 29: Norepinephrine

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"I'm scared."

Also on AO3

------------

Whoops and cheers.

The beeping of the telegram.

“HQ, copy: switching to Plan Zeta. Jam all signals. Occupy Sandrock. Cut the rail links! Signal blackout NOW. Whale express in route!”

Silence.

Grace cursing under her breath.

Justice cursing rapid-fire.

Qi’s grip on the tracking device tightening.

An uncertain glance at Qi.

Qi’s uncertain glance in return.

The mayor’s plea.

A grin spreading across Qi’s face.

A plan.

A hint of unease lingering in Qi’s eyes.

Nervous murmurs in the town square.

Refueling the generator.

Watching the mailbox.

The clang of the forging machine.

Watching the mailbox.

Restless sleep.

A letter.

------------

Attached is the diagram for the air cannon and its ancillary power unit. Please set it up in front of City Hall when it’s finished. In a more peaceful time, I would be ecstatic to see my creation built (especially by your hand), but that is unfortunately not the case. I just can’t shake the dreaded feeling that this will be the last diagram I will ever be able to give you. No matter how many times I calculate our odds of survival, no matter how much I account for you as an anomalous factor, my blasted emotions keep telling me otherwise.

If one or both of us do not survive the events to come, I sincerely hope you know that it has been an honor to work with you. To know you. As your researcher, as your friend, and as your partner. You have my eternal gratitude for all of your time, care, and affection. I can only hope that I have managed to provide you with even a fraction of all that you’ve given me in return.

I love you.

Yours, now and always,

Qi

------------

It had appeared in their mailbox in the morning, significantly later than Qi had promised it. It took a mere minute to read, but it stayed burned into their mind for the whole day. Even as they kicked their machines into overdrive to produce the cannon parts, it burned a hole in their pocket. Even as they screwed and bolted and welded all the parts together, their mind would drift to the letter sitting innocently on their workbench nearby, secured in place with no fewer than three paperweights. Even when they finished setting the cannon up, and Justice told them that Qi had entrusted them as the sole operator, all they could think about was how he was nowhere in sight that day, and the quiet, resigned sorrow behind his words.

The builder circled their thumb absentmindedly around those last three words as they ate their dinner, careful not to brush over them and smudge the pencil. They were written so much neater and clearer than Qi’s usual scrawl that the builder couldn’t possibly miss them. It was as if he had to slowly force his hand to make each line. They imprinted themselves beyond the page and straight into their skull.

That was the first time he’d ever said it to them on his own. Not saying it back when they said it first. Not with a hug or a gentle touch instead of words. Not leaving the all-important L-word out and only implied.

It wasn’t that they were ever bothered by it. Qi had his own ways of expressing himself in everything, including his “I love you”s. His sentiments could always come through in the things he did. But those three words, plain as day, even only in writing, shook them to the core. As they read his letter over and over again, they could almost hear his voice murmuring it into their ear. They heard the idiosyncrasies of his accent, how the usual formality in his tone gave way to something softer, the resolve of the declaration in spite of the uncertainty.

They set their fork down on the now empty plate, feeling an ache building in their chest. They shoved themselves out of the chair and tossed the dishes into the sink. Then they ran to their bedroom, ripped the blanket off their bed, then turned tail and ran out the door.

Even though the night was still young, the town was completely blacked-out. Everyone was trying to salvage as much sleep as they could before tomorrow. Who knew when they’d next get any kind of restful slumber?

Nevertheless, the builder ran towards town, treading a path so familiar they could walk it in their sleep. All the way, Qi’s illusory voice echoed in their head.

If one or both of us do not survive the events to come…

They leapt over the tracks in a single bound.

It has been an honor…

They burst out of the pipe tunnel.

You have my eternal gratitude…

They slowed down and tip-toed across Mi-an’s deck, not wanting to rob her of sleep.

I love you.

They got to the base of the rooftop stairs and sprinted up, two steps at a time.

Yours, now and always…

“Qi.”

There he was, as they expected. He was sitting with his knees tucked to his chest and staring anxiously up into the sky, as if the Duvos airship would appear any moment and strike him down. At the sound of their voice, his gaze snapped back down to them, still just as anxious.

“Why…?”

“You know why.” The builder hiked the last several steps up to his side and sat down right up against him, wrapping the blanket around both of them and snuggling close. “You send me a letter like that and expect me to not try and find you?”

Qi had no answer. He just rested his chin on his knees and looked away.

The builder sighed. “Qi…please. Talk to me.”

He remained silent. The builder didn’t falter, their gaze gently prodding him. Finally, he spoke with a meekness they never thought he could have.

“…By all means, we should survive,” he whispered. “I’ve accumulated every possible variable that I could think of… I’ve run the numbers so many times in the past 12 hours alone… And that’s not even factoring in you and–and everything you are, but…”

He took a shaky breath. “I find myself completely unable to look at the odds of success for what they are. All I see are the inverse odds of failure…and all I can envision are scenarios where something goes horribly, irreversibly wrong and I—“ His breath hitched.

“I’m scared.”

Their heart wrenched. Just like it did when they saw him lying right here after they came back from the supposed dead, cold and alone. Just like it did when he collapsed into their arms. Just like it did when they heard him cry.

They gently laid a hand on top of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I am too,” they breathed. “But I’ll protect you. I promise.”

Qi hugged his knees tighter to his chest. “That’s what I’m scared about.”

Another blow to the builder’s heart. For the briefest moment, they were tempted to leave it all behind. Gather some supplies, take Qi by the hand, and follow the railroad tracks out. Abandon Sandrock, the home they’d made there, and everyone they’d come to know. Head somewhere safe. Where? They didn’t know.

But they couldn’t do that. They knew that. Qi knew that.

He went on. “Even as we were formulating our plans in City Hall, it was already clear to me that you were the only one who could operate the cannon. None of the Civil Corps are competent enough. No other civilian could do it. And I…I do not trust myself. You are the only one with the intelligence and strength required to use it.”

He sighed. “I sent the diagram late because I needed to rerun my calculations and check for errors again. If an oversight on my part caused it to malfunction…I’d never forgive myself.”

“Even if it did, it wouldn’t be your fault, Qi.”

“It would,” he muttered, hands clenching the fabric of his pants. “I am a researcher. It is my job to produce accurate diagrams. My calculations are flawless. They…they have to be. Otherwise…y-you…”

He took a few haggard breaths. Then he swallowed and met the builder’s gaze. “The letter that accompanied the diagram…” he whispered. “N…nothing about that was hyperbolic. Even if the threat of war wasn’t upon us.”

The builder’s heart swelled and twisted and ached all at once. All they could do was give his hand another squeeze, and say the only words that they could conjure.

“I love you too.”

“I’ve never doubted that.” Qi turned back to the stars. “Not even for an instant.”

A quiet breeze rustled through their hair, its chill warded off by the enveloping warmth of Qi and the blanket.

“Can you…” Qi spoke up suddenly. “Can you stay here tonight? I…” He trailed off, looking down.

They didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Qi nuzzled closer to them without a word. They let out a long, quiet sigh, letting themselves melt into each other.

The builder stared up at the beautiful, yet indifferent cosmos, as if they could will the sky to stop turning. As if they could beg the stars to let them stay in this one last moment of solace forever. To just hold Qi tight against them until all the fear in both of them dissolved away into the morning light.

But they couldn’t. The stars still turned far above their head. Time still ticked forward.

And when the sun would rise tomorrow morning, so would Duvos.

------------

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[house-of-slayterr]

I think I just had a PTSD flashback and a seizure at the same time, and I don’t know how long it actually lasted but it felt like forever. I never want that again. I woke and and instantly puked my guts out and my skin feels like it’s crawling.

[0dotexe]

Are you fucking kidding me?

Getting my two broken teeth removed is what eased my arthritis symptoms?

I haven't had a flareup since I got the last one removed. I'm even wondering if I need to get my biyearly steroid shot.

[solemntitty]

me explaining my situation to every psychiatrist as an adult: yeah i used to have really severe mental illness growing up so like. my perception for when i'm not doing okay is skewed, if i don't feel like i'm going to die every day then i don't consider that anxiety.

[tj-crochets]

Hey y’all! Weird question time! This one is passing out/syncope/fainting related (I did not pass out, this is a hypothetical question, don’t worry)

What’s the difference between passing out from low blood pressure and being so tired from low blood pressure that you can’t stay awake? I used to call them “non-optional naps” when my blood pressure would get so low I just could not keep my eyes open, and if I did not choose to go lie down and nap I would fall asleep sitting up.  I’ve asked my dad this many times and all he says is “if you’d passed out you’d know” or, when pressed, he’ll sometimes say “if you pass out you’d be missing time when you woke up” but like you are always missing time when you wake up??? Because you’ve been asleep???????  I don’t know how to tell if symptoms I have experienced in the past and almost experienced today are passing out or if they are just extreme fatigue, and that feels like a potentially important distinction to have

[rimouskis]

Catching up on all the pens drama at the moment. Can't help but think about Geno knowing Sid was gonna be spending time with newly minted Stanley Cup winner Nathan MacKinnon and was like "hhmmm, no, Sid needs to be thinking about ME" so he started his campaign of fear and terror with Anna being his enabler.

I was discussing this with someone a week or so back... in retrospect, we lived through what definitely amounts to a ~fandom history moment~, you know? much like sid's concussion or any of the cup runs, Sid's Trip To Miami To Bring Back Geno is undoubtedly going to be one of those topics that will start cropping up in fics or meta about sidgeno.

and like. yeah okay that's cool or whatever, but my god was it stressful at the time!

[neontaxidermy]

ferrets are BACK from the vet and thankfully very healthy (and shockingly very polite!)

[sprymagician]

Next on the docket for Writing

Errrr. Could be a few things.

There's the possibility of more Writer shenanigans, Mixed with me advertising friends OC's because they have beautiful art and characters and I just. Y'know. Turn feral whenever I see them.

There's possibly doing an intro for Silvan. He cameo'd in Lormec's blurble whatever.

Except Silvan requires a mood to write for.

Asshole

Or. I could start in on the humans.

Jumping around a lot but hey, Who's gonna stop me.

[thechronicpaingame]

Hi friends, quick question. Anyone had facial weakness with migraines / headache? I CAN still smile normally if I try but basically my face feels weaker / droopier on one side. Second time it's happened recently. Can it just be teeth clenching causing migraines, causing this? Or maybe the clenching causing inflammation in turn pressing on facial nerves? No aura (none of my migraines as an adult have had aura), no confusion or slurred speech. Just an awful ache and my face is weakened and slightly drooping on one side.

[freepassbound]

1: Have you ever walked out of a mall into a huge parking area, and realized... you'd forgotten where you'd parked your car?

6: How superstitious are you?

7: How much money would it take to make you to spend a night in a cemetery?

9: Do you have a pet? (If not, would you like one? Which one?)

1: I can't remember doing so... there is some vague memory of momentarily blanking on it (something to do with a parking garage?) before recalling - but that could be the brain making stuff up.

Generally speaking, I have a pretty solid grasp on where I am and where significant things are at all times.

6: Only performatively. 😂

I will sometimes try wearing the same stuff to watch a game if my team has been winning. But not even that regularly.

7: Hmm... not an awful lot, I suppose - but I think I'd at least try to bid up someone who was proposing it. 😂 Probably wouldn't do it voluntarily? Not my idea of a good time.

9: I do not. I don't know if I would or not. Dogs are the family history, and... for most of my time living alone, my schedule was too busy for it to be fair to a dog (I regularly would be out for 10, and sometimes wouldn't be home for 12, even 14 or more hours); more recently... well, there was too much uncertainty, both about the future and financially, for it to be feasible.

I probably could now. But... it's a big decision. And I'm not great with big decisions.

...also I'm barely taking care of myself for awhile now - it would absolutely destroy me if I were failing to take good care of a pet.

[viridescent-din]

benevolence

you always imagined it your first kiss would be... softer, than it ends up being. but it’s joel. you probably should have known.

smut, 18+. age gap. joel is a grumpy old man who hates himself and reader is down bad.

~

The first time Joel kisses you, it isn’t romantic.

It’s angry - he’s angry. The clicker that just had its hands on you lies motionless a few feet away, mouth frozen in the open position it was in when Joel shot it. Joel is checking you over relentlessly for bites. He’s running his hands over your waist, flashing his light on your neck... fuck, he’s even tugging up the cuffs of your jeans to check your ankles.

“You don’t do that,” he pants, fuming once he knows you’re okay. You’re adrenalized, shaken up and not working off your best judgment. You meet Joel’s eyes.

“Don’t do what? Be on the wrong side of the room? Have the batteries run out of my flashlight? This wasn’t my fault, Joel.” Joel shakes his head, pissed, and he grips the nape of your neck. You didn’t even realize his hand is still there, sturdy and calloused. You bite your cheek. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Shut up,” Joel growls, and it makes you even more upset.

“I didn’t - stop blaming me. Stop making me feel like a dumbass, because I’m trying and I’m tired but I’m still better than half the people in the Q -”

Joel cuts you off before you can keep egging either of you on, his lips connecting with yours in a harsh and almost painful way. Your teeth clash, and Joel kisses you with so much force you almost fall, the only thing saving you being his strong arm wrapping around your back. You open your mouth, probably from shock, and Joel’s tongue does a quick sweep around the cavern when you do. Your hands fly up to Joel’s chest instinctively for balance, and you can feel his racing heartbeat under your palm. It makes you falter. You didn’t realize he was so worried.

You’re just starting to ease into it Joel stops.

His teeth catch your bottom lip as he pulls away, and you both taste blood. Joel steps away, the both of you just staring at each other, panting.

“Do you get it?” He asks, voice gruff. “Don’t fucking do that.”

You blink, years of pining and want pouring over you. You swallow, tasting just a bit of what you think is Joel.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I get it.”

~

The second time isn’t any more passionate. It’s done to prove a point, just like the first.

You’re leaning against the counter as you drink at the bar, still trying to wrap your head around this actual town Tommy is living in. It feels so real - like the flashes of memory you have of the world before the outbreak. You’re shivering a bit, your hair still wet from the shower you took. The shower with warm water. Joel is back at the house Tommy and Maria gave you to stay in. He insisted you shower first - he wanted to make sure that if there was hot water to use up, it was you who got it. He sent you off to the bar with the promise of meeting you there soon.

You’re drinking a whiskey neat, not because you like the drink, but because it feels warm in your chest and you know Joel will finish it. You’re sipping on it as you talk to a few men that are locals. They’re a bit older than you, but definitely younger than Joel. They seem nice, better than the lecherous creeps you keep managing to find on your journey (infected or not). One of them works in the stables, taking care of the horses. You smile as you listen to him talk about them. You think you can remember a few girls in elementary school who had farms and horses before everything broke down.

A hand slides around your waist as you’re talking, and you have to crane your neck to see Joel appearing next to you. He’s much taller without a backpack: less weighed down. His shoulders are relaxed and broad. You forget how to breathe for a moment, utterly taken by him.

“Hi,” you say softly. Joel doesn’t acknowledge it. You can feel the anger permeating off him, it’s more present than the hand he has that’s now gripping your side. You blink. “Joel.”

Joel looks down at you, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the men. He brings his free hand up to your face, cupping your jaw. This time you know, you aren’t surprised when his lips meet yours.

You’re pissed at Joel - you’re furious that he’s doing this again, touching you without any indication for months that it’s something he wants. You know Joel feels for you, but when he only confirms it so damn scarcely, it’s easy for you to doubt. You try to steel yourself, only let him in so deep, but Joel is already with you, whether he’s touching you or not. The two of you are permanently connected, just like anyone else who’s ever survived together. Despite your best efforts, you melt into him, holding onto the lapels of the jacket Joel told you he got from trading with Bill.

By the time you pull away, your potential friends are already muttering among themselves, making up excuses to leave. They exit, giving you and Joel the entirety of the counter. You shake your head, turning so you aren’t facing Joel. You give it a few minutes, then walk out in the direction of the house. You’ve barely made it out the door of the bar when Joel pulls you into the little alley next to it.

“Joel, stop. It’s snowing. I didn’t bring a coat.” Joel pulls his off, wrapping it around you. You scoff, but don’t turn it down. “Joel -”

“Didn’t want them getting the wrong idea.” He interrupts you. You stare at Joel, incredulous.

“And what wrong idea is that, Joel?” You ask, then don’t let him answer. “They were nice. Just welcoming one of the new strangers to town.”

“They weren’t just being nice.”

“Yes, Joel, they were. Have you already forgotten about that ambush that happened when we got here? This place isn’t about to let in any assholes. Not the type you’re accusing those guys of being, at least.” Joel sets his jaw, taking a step towards you. You back up as he approaches until you hit the wall of the bar. You let out a breathe, one you can see. It’s fucking cold. You don’t know how Joel isn’t shivering, his freshly showered wet hair glistening in the light of the few street lamps.

“They needed to know,” Joel says. He’s so close to you. You smell the shampoo and soap that Maria has given him, but underneath that, he’s still Joel. Musky and experienced. Territorial. You can’t help being mad at him, but you’re terrible at committing to it.

“They need to know what?” Joel doesn’t answer. He places his hands on either side of you, caging you in. He won’t look at you. You raise your arms, placing your hands on Joel’s. You slip your thumbs under the long sleeves on his shirt, rubbing at Joel’s lifeline. His lips part as he exhales. “Joel, nobody can know about this when you won’t even say anything about it to me.”

You expect Joel to fight, maybe chastise you, but he doesn’t. He slumps against you, head buried in your chest and arms wrapping around your torso in a crushing bear hug. You blink, caught off guard, but you recover quickly, throwing one hand around Joel’s shoulders and bringing the other to massage the nape of his neck. You can feel the fight leaving Joel, just for a moment. You wonder what’s softening him: the shower, the almost normal town, finding Tommy.

You.

Joel doesn’t do this. You don’t know anything about his life before the outbreak, but you know he hasn’t loved many people. He’s approaching this in all the wrong ways, but he doesn’t know any better. He has to re learn, and you have to learn for the first time.

All Joel needs right now is a little reassurance.

“Joel. Joel. Baby,” you whisper in his ear, pressing your lips to his temple. “They didn’t want anything from me. And it wouldn’t matter if they did. They’re nothing.” Joel’s fingers dig into your ribs, and you can tell you’re going to bruise. You don’t care. “They’re nothing. I don’t care about them. I don’t care about anyone here.”

You close your eyes, burying your nose in the side of Joel’s neck and inhaling. You let Joel surround you, take up all your senses. You posture up, taking Joel with you. You take his face in your hands, your lips brushing over his forehead, cheeks, nose. You kiss the patches in his beard where the hair doesn’t grow, and his eyelids when his eyes drift shut. You’re overcome with affection, the feelings you push down every time you see Joel forcing themselves up. You almost want to cry. “Joel, you’re so handsome.” Joel tenses, praise unfamiliar to him, but you watch as he forces himself not to reject it. His fingers find the loops of your jeans, pulling you flush against him so there isn’t any part of you that isn’t touching. You let him. You ask for it.

“They’re not you,” you promise him. “Nobody here will ever be you.”

~

The night at the bar doesn’t magically fix everything. But it does make it harder for you and Joel to let go of each other - metaphorically and literally - so you start to sleep with him. Every night, Joel tucks you under his arm, letting you use his steady heartbeat to fall asleep to. Every morning, you wake up with the positions reversed, cradling Joel’s head to your chest.

The first time Joel has a nightmare, you think someone (something) has broken in.

You wake up to Joel thrashing, drenching the covers in a cold sweat. You grab his shoulders and shake, putting any worries about hurting Joel aside.

“Joel,” you say, your voice shaking but firm. “Wake up. Wake up,” Joel sits up, his eyes flying open. He blinks, gathering his bearings and realizing he’s safe. You pant, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. Joel flinches, so you draw it away. “Sorry,” you apologize. Joel turns, looking at you like he didn’t realize you were there. He says your name, sounding broken.

“You’re -” he says, then pauses, trying to figure what he’s trying to say. “You’re here.” You stare at him.

“Yeah, Joel.” You say. “I’m here. I’m with you.” Joel reaches for you, tugging you close and then pressing you against the sheets. He grunts, like he’s trying to make sense of everything.

“Can I - Will you let me -” Joel searches for the words, but can’t come up with them. You just nod.

“Yes,” you tell him. “You can do whatever you need. I trust you.” Joel freezes above you, almost glaring. His hands begin to toy with the hem of your shirt, and your heart begins to pound against your rib cage.

Joel slowly pulls your shirt up, dragging his mouth over every inch of skin he reveals. His chapped lips explore every curve and softness of your belly, and when you raise your arms so he can rid you of the article of clothing completely, he does the same to your breasts. It doesn’t even feel sexual, Joel isn’t licking or biting. He’s just feeling, touching. You feel dizzy, arousal pooling between your legs. You grip the sheets between your fingers.

“I’m only good for you in here,” Joel says against your skin. It sends vibrations throughout your body, you feel his voice everywhere. You shake, but you’re not cold. He sits back on his knees to look at you, so you prop yourself up on your elbows. You blink.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you admit. Joel shakes his head.

“I’m good for you here,” he gestures to the room. “And here,” he jabs a finger to his chest, over his heart, then mirrors the action on you. It kind of hurts, but you don’t show it. “But out there? I’m not a good man,” you open your mouth to protest, but Joel shuts you down with just one look. You stay silent. “I’ve done... I’ve done some bad things. Bad enough I don’t think Tommy really wanted to see me again.” Joel shakes his head. “And I - I would do those things for you. I even want to sometimes.” Your eyes widen, and Joel sees it. He sours. “Bein’ good for you means that I’m bad for everyone else. Do you get what I’m tellin’ you?” Joel’s drawl comes out as he gets more emotional. “You need to know that. And if we’re gonna keep doing this, you need to accept it too. It might not be fair. I don’t know if it is. But this is the way things are. You understand me?”

You stare at Joel, watching him bare himself to you in a way you don’t think he’s done for anyone else in a long, long, time. You suck in a shaky breath, and swallow.

“I understand you.” You pull Joel over you, looking up at him. “I still trust you.” You tell him.

Joel lets his head drop, not letting you see him. He works his way down your chest, from your collarbone to navel until he reaches the button of your jeans. Glancing at you to tell him to stop, he strips you of the pants when you don’t. You watch as he looks at you, staring at your most intimate area, and then presses his face to the inside of your thigh. He strokes your calf.

“You don’t what you’re gettin’ yourself into.” He murmurs, almost absentmindedly.

“Yes I do,” you protest. “I’ve been with you for years, Joel. I know you as much as you’ve let me. Let me know more. Let me decide for myself.”Joel holds your gaze. You pant, throbbing. “Let me give something to you. If you don’t think I know you, or us, that’s fine. It makes me sad, but it’s fine.” Joel presses an open mouthed kiss to the meat of your thigh, and you whimper. “I know myself, though, Joel. I know what I want. It’s you. I promise. I’m trusting you, Joel. Can’t you just trust me too?”

Joel looks at you in awe, and then gives you an affectionate frown. He doesn’t say ‘okay’ or anything like that. Instead, he just ducks his head, thrusting his tongue into your sex like a starved man, and holds you down as you keen and shake.

~

Joel used to refuse to give you any sort of heightened affection, any type of intimacy. He’s getting better at that. Joel strokes your cheek when you wake up in the morning, offers you bland but hearty oatmeal when he notices you haven’t eaten. He drops to his knees the second he sees that your shoe’s come untied.

He doesn’t like it when you try to do the same. Joel’s self-hatred is so deep seated he thinks the very act of you loving him is equivalent to any act of service. When you finally convince him to let do something for him - helping him undress, washing his hair, taking his cock down your throat - you have to promise him you want it too. Only once it’s happening will Joel let himself take. He’ll stay in the shower for hours, fuck your mouth until you can’t speak.

Joel is greedy when he lets himself be. That’s why it hurts so much that he won’t have sex with you.

“It’ll change things, baby.” He tells you, trying to ease the blow. You just don’t get it.

“We’ve already changed them.” You respond, looking away. “I don’t... I don’t want to pressure you, Joel. Just tell me if that’s not what you want.”

“Hey,” Joel grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. “That’s not it. Don’t you think that.” You swallow, but nod, accepting Joel’s words. He releases you, then begins petting your side. It’s spring now. Joel looks good under the morning light from the window. “You’re sweet. You couldn’t pressure me into anything.”

He’s right. Joel is his own man. His days of being easily influenced are long gone.

~

You learn to live with it, this tiny piece of rejection. You accept that there’s something about sex that’s too much for Joel. It’s strange, because it almost hurts more than it did before you and Joel got closer. Like you’re close enough to grab what you want, but can’t quite. It’s okay, though. You want him enough to accept whatever he’ll give you, and parts of Joel is better than none of him.

You wonder if the two of you have settled. You’ve been in Jackson for six months - but it feels like years. For the first time since you can remember, you’re living instead of surviving. It’s exhilarating. You and Joel are both showing signs of domesticity: the callouses on your hands have almost entirely disappeared, and Joel’s face has gotten a bit rounder. A couple extra pounds looks good on Joel. You like knowing he isn’t running himself to the bone.

With all this extra time, Joel has started taking you out of the town so you can perfect your shooting. He sets up targets, adjusts your grip, and watches you for what seems like hours. You’re getting better, but the process is painstaking. Everyone back in the QZ knew you were much more adept with a knife.

“Knife ain’t good for infected. You have to get too close.” Joel tells you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His hand snakes around your hip, pulling your knife from your front pocket. He tosses it to the side. “Now you don’t have a knife. Just the gun.” Joel points over your shoulder and at the target. “Shoot.”

You hit the target five times in the row.

You squeal in excitement, jumping up and down and dropping the gun. You turn around and practically jump into Joel’s arms. You’re grinning, and Joel is almost smiling, which for him is a huge victory. He cups your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone before he kisses you.

You’re still smiling into Joel’s mouth, and he’s swallowing your moans as one of his hands drops from your face to your chest. He finds the hardened bud of your nipple even over the material of your shirt - you never wear bras anymore, you haven’t felt the need since coming to Jackson - and he pinches. You whimper, pleasure shooting through your veins. Joel is hard, you can see the tent in your pants, feel it against your belly. When he breaks the kisses, Joel keeps himself pressed to you.

“I need this too, baby. I need it too.” You can hear the fight in Joel’s voice, the inner turmoil. You try to say okay, but can’t find the words.

~

Joel picks you up, throws you onto your shared bed. He’s being reckless - he literally tossed the gun on the couch in the living room. It’s not loaded, but still.

Joel stands back, breathing slightly erratic, and stares at you. He eyes you hungrily, like a starving man.

He’s about to indulge.

Joel pulls his shirt over his head, and you do the same, shimmying out of your jeans. You freeze when when Joel takes off the last item of his clothes, staring. You swallow.

Joel is beautiful.

You push yourself up, crawling to the edge of the bed. You place your hands on Joel’s sides, looking up to meet his eyes. He gives you an affectionate frown, stroking your cheek. He’s so broad. You press your lips to Joel’s collarbone, then cover him in your kisses. You kiss his neck, shoulders, chest, belly. Joel groans, his hand tangling in your hair. His cock is hard against his stomach, and you give the head a quick lick, cupping his balls. Joel’s eyes fly open, and before you even know what’s happening, he’s pressed you flat against the sheets, pinning your arms above your head.

“Don’t,” Joel warns you. “It’s been too long. And you’re -” Joel cuts himself, dragging his tongue over your throat to catch a bead of sweat. He presses his length against your hip, and you gasp. “You touch me like that again and I’ll cum.”

“Joel,” you whisper, but he just shakes his head. He holds his palm out in front of your face.

“Spit,” he commands. “You’re gonna want to make it easier on yourself, darlin.’” You take a breath, your chest brushing Joel’s. You squeeze your legs together, searching for any type of friction. Your face burns. “C’mon,” Joel says, softer this time. “I’ve seen you sweatin’ with blood caked in your hair. I’ve seen at your worst. Right now I’m seein’ you at your best.” A small smile manages to crinkle the edges of Joel’s eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about here.”

You blink up at Joel, and realize you feel exactly the way you always do around him: safe. Free, supported. You don’t have to worry about anything, not looking pretty or being good enough. It’s Joel.

You’re with Joel.

You spit in his hand, then watch as he strokes his cock with it. He spreads the beads of pre cum on his head down the shaft too, and then runs himself through your folds. You keen instantly, the feeling unlike anything (anything) you’ve ever felt. When Joel’s head brushes your clit, you feel like you’re dying.  He lines himself up, teasing your entrance, and when Joel slides in, he keeps a careful watch of your face for any signs of pain. He takes care of you.

Joel stays still to let you adjust, and you feel him everywhere. Your body, your brain, your heart. Joel is all encompassing. He’s inescapable.

When you give Joel a small nod, he starts to move. He thrusts in an out, setting a steady pace. You grip the muscle of his arms, arching your back to get him deeper.

“That’s it,” Joel tells you. “Good job,” you clench around him at the praise, and you think you hear Joel let out a chuckle. He keeps working you open, each thrust a bit deeper until he’s buried to the hilt. You and Joel stop, both feeling. He lets out a breath, drops his face in your shoulder. Joel pulls out, then enters you again, burying himself once more. “I missed you,” he says into your skin.

For a moment, you don’t know what Joel’s talking about. You’ve been traveling with him for years, and since living in Jackson, you’ve hardly left his side.

Then you realize this is Joel’s way of telling you you’re familiar, and part of him.

You wrap one of your arms around Joel’s shoulders, link your ankles behind his hips. You pull Joel impossibly close, so close he has to abandon his idea of rubbing his thumb over your clit. He does the same to your nipple instead, pinching and pulling and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You feel sensation building in your stomach, the edges of your vision blurring.

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I think.. I think I’m close.” Joel shushes you, brushing baby hairs off your forehead.

“It’s alright baby, let it go. Let me make you feel good.” He tells you. All it takes is a few more sweet nothings before your shuddering against him, riding out your high. Joel’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you clench him impossibly tight. He curses. Without a word, Joel pulls out before he can climax inside you, spurting on both of your stomachs. He collapses next you, his hand finding yours and squeezing it.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Joel murmurs, dragging  his lips across your knuckles. You can feel his cum begin to dry on your stomach. You hum.

“Worth it,” you manage to whisper back. “You’re worth it, Joel.”

Joel turns his head, meeting your eyes, taking in all of your sincerity. For know, he doesn’t know what to do with it. But he’ll learn.

He’ll re learn. All of this - these ideas of love and mutual partnership - he’ll make it familiar again. All so he can stay close.

[lxclerc]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary… charles tries to help his girlfriend study but that proves to be difficult when he doesn’t understand a single thing requested… yes! warning… none. pure fluff.

note… another old drabble request from the graves of my inbox. also as a med student, i adore this idea so much

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

charles has never been the brightest tool in the shed when it came to academics. he supposes it comes with the occupation. growing up, he cared far too much about racing that he had no space left in his mind to care about school too. he was always meant to be a formula one driver so he never cared about the cell or the mitochondria.

ironically, you were the exact opposite. like him, you’ve known what you were meant to be the moment you got ahold of your first book. you’re going to be a doctor, a healer and you’ve dedicated yourself to that dream.

the human body is a beautiful machine, much like the universe. every little cell and atom circulating its vessel holds a purpose, creating a balance between life and death. it’s majestic, truly and a little bit scary. if one thing failed then the entire system could collapse and so you studied and studied and studied for ways to keep that system going, to cure ailments and diseases.

you thrive off academic validation and a minor superiority complex and yet somehow you’re the most anxious person charles has ever met.

he’s madly in love with you. this is a fact. him and his dream that required him to constantly put his life at risk and you with your dream of helping and saving people. really it was a match made in heaven. and charles is madly madly in love with you.

that’s the only reasonable explanation as he pulled himself out of his sim practice, seamlessly moving around the kitchen of your shared apartment as he prepared an ice coffee for you.

you’re drained and you’re on the verge of breaking down and so when he wrapped his arms around you and offered to help you study for your finals, you’d all but cried in gratitude.

no, charles leclerc didn’t care about the cell and mitochondria and but he cares greatly for you and so he’d study it if it meant you’d finally allow yourself to rest.

unfortunately for him, you’re way past learning about the mitochondria. instead you’re studying your worst enemy aka pharmacology.

“angiotensin receptor blockers prevent vasoconstriction and aldosterone release, causing a decrease in blood pressure and peripheral resistance,” you recite from the top of your head, still looking like you’re on the verge of tears but slightly better.

charles shook his head as he held the book you’d given him to help you study, his glasses on. “non, non, amour. it says here it’s ‘angiotensin receptor blockers selectively bind to the angiotensin I receptors in the blood vessels to prevent vasoconstriction and in the adrenal cortex to prevent release of aldosterone then lead to decrease in BP caused by decrease in peripheral resistance and blood volume.’”

you sigh again but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you. the first time he did it, you’d gotten frustrated but at this point, your brain is far too fried to even get annoyed at him. especially when even he looks like he’s about to start crying.

you pushed away the book from his hand, clumsily crawling over to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him down so he’d be laying on the sofa and you on top of him.

“my love, i don’t need to memorize everything word for word from the book,” you explain as gently as you can for the third time. you know he’s just trying his best to help you.

“why?” he frowned. “wouldn’t it be better if you knew it exactly from the book?”

you giggled. “perhaps but no med student would ever survive memorizing twelve inch books word for word. we’d simply all break down and die.”

you hold yourself up, pushing his hair off his forehead before removing his glasses. he still looks confused but a lot of things honestly confused charles. thank god he has a smart girlfriend to explain everything to him.

“stop worrying about it,” you say. “i’ve studied enough and we both need a break.”

he sighed in relief, tightening his arms around you. “thank god i felt like my brain was put on a pressure dryer for a minute there.”

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr @xjval @gridbunny

[0tivez]

adrenalize

synopsis: a perfect student can get in toruble every now and then too, right? except this time, you get into trouble with your famous bachelor professor satoru gojo for an unorthodox reason, and he'll make sure you make up for it

characters: gojo

warnings: female reader, student reader x professor gojo, semi-public sex, age gap (early 20s to late 20s), oral (female + male receiving), very light power play, dub-con (maybe?), unprotected sex, degrading/praising, breeding. mdni

wc: 4.3k

note: yes, this is my dark fantasy of being accepted as a mean looking emo bitch. no, i'm not in love with my professor. emo sluts rise (emo=reader wears all black and has dark makeup lol sorry couldn't pull a wattpad) it's our time to have steamy office sex with 2d men. see the end for more notes!

you know, i don't really put in songs, but what the hell. this one's for the emos

<- navigation

"oh, i have an appointment with professor gojo today" you tell your friend as you lay your lunch tray onto the table.

"for what?" she asks, her motion following yours. you two sit comfortably on the wooden chairs.

"i don't know. my grades, i guess? but my grades are fine, so i don't really know" you answer in confusion, and stab a big piece of chicken.

"well, i wish he would call me in his office"

"what?" you almost choke on your food. you look at your friend with big, dumb eyes. you wouldn't have been this surprised if she confessed to murdering someone, and you shouldn't be surprised at her confession either. yet somehow, you are.

"satoru's kinda hot, isn't he?" she responds, scrunching her nose. "he's also, like, extremely smart and funny"

"he's fucking old"

"um, no he's not? half of the school has bag of bones for professors, satoru's like... what, 30? i've fucked older"

"still, so inappropriate" you shut the conversation down. sure, you two had joked about how hot gojo is, and sure, the idea did entertain your mind, but it's between you two, a very private inside joke. you feel exposed this way, and the last thing you need is having that image of your professor in your mind as he lectures you about god knows what later today.

"i bet he fucks like his age too" she smirks across the table. you turn your head around anxiously to see if anyone's heard you two, but the loud cafeteria outweighs your little dirty convo.

"shut up!"

"girl you know damn well-"

"let's talk about this after i get scolded today. i don't want to worry about this man anymore"

it's 5.40 pm. where is he? he was supposed to meet you after class, yet he's nowhere to be found. and you're there standing in shame, as students pass you by, probably wondering what happened for you to be waiting like a stray kitten by his office.

of course, it's nothing to be ashamed of. god, you don't even know what you're supposed to be ashamed of yet! but here you are, cold sweat down your neck, hands nervously moving up and down your arms as you wait for time to pass.

that's how you are. quiet, nervous. yet most people have a different image of you; a colder, meaner image. it's difficult for you to socialize, so you stick to your two friends you made ages ago for your in-class interactions. for classes, you opt for quietly listening to your lectures rather than being interactive, even though you know it's not the right way, and you want to be social. that's why most professors rarely remember your name or your face- not that they're eager to know you anyways. that's why it's so confusing. what did you do to get called like this? how did he even know your name?

"ah- sorry for being late" gojo rushes next to you. his tall figure guides you to the narrow hallway where his office is hidden in. he quickly unlocks the door, and waits for you to enter first. "sit, i'll be back in a couple minutes" you nod.

once he turns around, you quickly observe his clothes. he always knew how to be stylish, even though his clothes are always basic. you figured it must be his fit figure that makes anything he wears compliment him. he's always clean and rich looking; never would he wear a wrinkled shirt. the female students would anticipate warm weathers, where gojo would sometimes wear a tight, black t-shirt and jeans. not today tho. although the weather is warm, he's wearing a light blue linen shirt with black jeans, complimented with a thick, leather belt. his shirt exposed his contoured collarbones, and arms exposed with an expensive looking watch to complete the look. and his face... god, his face.

he shuts the door behind you. you're left for your own thoughts. sitting down is uncomfortable for you, the only thing you can hear is your heartbeat. the building is empty, you can faintly hear students speaking from outside. you get up, and look around his office. it's filled with thick, leather covered books. interesting, you wouldn't assume he's into reading by looking at him, or hearing him speak. it must be professional deformation. papers are scattered around on his desk. everywhere else except for his desk is tidied and clean, but his desk is a warzone.

the door opens.

"hi, hello, sorry for making you wait. hope you didn't miss me too much" gojo paces toward his desk.

you shake your head. "it's alright, you must be very busy"

gojo stands over his desk and gathers some papers in his hand and puts them aside. "well, it is difficult to be the fun one in this department, y'know?" his blue eyes focus on yours for a moment, as he waits for a reaction from you. you chuckle in response.

gojo pulls out a paper from the batch and sits down. he raises the paper and looks at you. he calls your name. "correct?"

just the way he said your name sends chills down your spine. god, in that moment, you truly wish you would be more active in class, only to hear him call your name.

"correct"

he reads the paper quickly without putting it down. he looks like a kid doing it, yet you feel as if you were in front of a judge.

"so, interesting. you know your grade, right?" you nod.

"i-is there a problem? i thought i did good"

"oh, you did, definitely. this paper is very impressive. i enjoyed reading it." he smiles at you. "the only problem was, i had no idea whose paper i was reading the whole time"

you sit there silently. where was he heading at? he didn't call you in just to tell you to be more active in class, right?

"i mean i did know, i know how to read, but there wasn't a face you know? our class is pretty small, so i know most people. but you, who are you?"

"excuse me?" you manage to let out.

"you don't speak much in class, don't talk to anyone else in class, yet you never skip a class. and then boom! you write out this paper"

"am- am i being accused of something, sir?"

gojo looks amused. he grins, and rests on his back, crossing his arms. his muscles show up, is he trying to look intimidating? is he trying to get a confession out of you? cheating? stealing?

"no, nothing at all. i'm just curious. it's important that i know my pupils. talking to strangers affect my performance too"

"i- guess i'm more of a listener" you feel so small in front of him. this is embarrassing.

gojo gets up and walks to the chair across you.

"but you see, you don't look friendly either."

"wha-"

"i remember seeing you in class and thinking 'wow, she really doesn't wanna be here' which is new to me, cause i'm fun!" now you're sure he must be offended or something.

"sir, if that's the issue, i'll be more active from now on" you just want to leave. whatever it takes, leave.

"but why?" he ignores your suggestion. "why hate being with me?" gojo leans in to be closer to you. his long legs and big body help him be closer to you, despite the small coffee table separating you two.

"there's not a reason, sir. i don't hate-"

"i'm used to being popular among female students, y'know?"

this time, it's your turn to giggle.

"i'm sorry, is this what it's been about? you're offended that i'm not attracted to you?" lie. you're crazy for him. maybe that's why you're extra shy around him. but somehow, a wave of confidence washes over you in this moment. maybe it's the sincerity of him, maybe it's the ridiculousness of the situation. but whatever it is, it made you get a fiendish chuckle from your professor.

"it just doesn't happen. do you hate me? did i do something to you?"

"no, sir, i'm just a shy person"

"why the face?" he points at his own face, and makes a sulky face that you think is supposed to be mimicking your face.

you shrug your shoulders and smile in disbelief. "it's just my face! sir, if it matters to you, i think you're great. i enjoy your lectures, and i promise i'll be more active from now on" you wave your hands and get up to leave. gojo follows after you.

he lays a hand on your shoulder to keep you still.

"that's not it, is it? you missed something"

"e-excuse me?" what the fuck is wrong with this guy?

"tell me i'm handsome" gojo looks into your eyes. his piercing gaze makes you freeze in place. his face is too close to yours, you feel even more embarrassed to know he can see you blushing.

"t-that's not very appro-"

"oh come on! i know you want to say it" he smiles.

hypocrite.

you are a hypocrite. if this was any other person, you would have been scared shitless. yet here you are; heart beating fast, empty minded, an uncomfortable wetness growing stronger.

the sexual tension is so strong. you feel nervous, whatever you say will break the tension or make it reach its breaking point. and you don't know which one you prefer.

you stay silent.

gojo looks into your big eyes, face so close that you wonder if he'll kiss you anytime soon.

"if you're not gonna admit, i'll help you with it" he steps back. "sit on the desk" he orders, voice dark and strong. you stand in disbelief. gojo walks over to his desk while slowly taking off his watch. "you comin' or not?"

you walk over to his desk and sit obediently. your legs are closed, your nervousness can be read from your posture.

"don't be shy, you're in good hands" gojo suddenly kneels and places his palms on your knees. he looks up at you with puppy eyes. "may i?"

you bite the inside of your cheeks and nod. you unbutton your pants and rest your palms next to you. satoru grabs the hem of your baggy jeans. you lift yourself as satoru easily takes your jeans off. your baby pink, cotton panties are exposed in a comical way. satoru laughs at the contrast; your heavy and dark makeup, resting bitch face, and all black clothes hide pretty pink underwear under it. and satoru feels like one hell of a lucky man to be able to witness this.

satoru slides his hand in between your legs and lightly separates them, exposing your sopping panties. satoru's delighted to see you as excited as him. after all, you seemed scared at first.

his soft, juicy lips lay soft kisses all across your plump skin as he makes his way up to your panties. his demeanor suddenly changes, and he rips your panties beastly. one hand lowers your body further to reveal your folds better. satoru doesn't wait another second.

gojo licks your folds, all the way from your hole to cilit. his tongue masterfully dances around the delicate skin, and runs around your clit. your shy moans fill the office room. you cherish the view below you. his broad shoulders are about to rip through his expensive shirt, white hair buried between your legs, long fingers gripping your legs firmly. he plants a firm kiss on top of your clit that makes you shiver. he sucks on the delicate skin and leaves it with a tiny plop sound. he continues untill you're a moaning mess. and god, you hate to admit this, but she was right. he knows how to fuck good.

"gosh, do you do this to all of your students?" the sudden adrenaline rush takes over you, but the embarrassment follows quickly after. for a second, you're scared he'll get mad and stop, but he doesn't.

"i don't. but don't think you'll be my favorite student after this or something" he looks at you with half lidded eyes.

his warm tongue fucks your wet hole until you feel weak in your knees. you wonder how good his cock feels if he can entertain you this much with his tongue. his tongue pushes inside your hole, letting your sweet juices roll down to his throat. he's so amused at how much you're enjoying yourself, it makes his excitement only grow harder. in a few seconds, he'll fuck you till you can't walk out his office.

"s-sir!" you squirm with his touch.

"yes?" he looks up in a mischievious manner and makes gesture at you, as if you were raising a hand to speak. you roll your head back and laugh before grabbing his hair and pushing him back in.

satoru lays a flat tongue on your clit. the pressure is enough to make your legs twitch. he holds himself there for a moment, waiting for your to beg for more. and you do, you really do.

satoru runs his tongue up and down on your clit, making the pointy tip of his tongue push the skin further as he runs his tongue back up with each lap. the pointy tip draws circles around your clit, around and around. god, he feels so good. he might even cum if he continues more. it's the first time he's ever felt so good giving head to someone. your helpless little squeaks, your shy face and confident hand buried in his hair...

knock knock

you quickly turn around to face the door

"professor gojo? i brought the books" a male voice calls. "can i come in?"

gojo gets up with a sinical smirk on his face, and gently pushes you by your back down.

"give me a second!" he shouts at the door as he takes off his belt and lays it under the desk. he sits down on his chair and calls you down with his two fingers. you instantly obey, kneeling down to his knee level. gojo pushes his chair further under the desk so that you can't be seen. you quickly unbutton his jeans before gojo calls the man inside.

you grab the hem of his underwear and push it down to expose his hard cock. it's dark, your view is limited, but you make the best of it. you hear footsteps get closer, so you hold your breath. you hesitate, you're terrified of getting caught.

"so, about tomorrow's meeting..." a faint voice fills your surroundings. your heart beats fast, and your hands shakily grab his tip.

gojo's surprised at this hesitation. maybe you really do need some help after all. he pretends to listen to what the man is yammering away about. he sneaks his hand down to table and cautiously pushes your head to mouth his length. the sudden push startles you, but it gives you the push you needed.

once gojo's palm leaves your head, you start slowly taking in his dick. you hear him exhale casually, before he responds to the man. he's big, so it takes you a while to fully take him inside. you pull your head back, and lick along his cock.

"...so i figured we would go with another plan..." gojo continues. once you swirl your tongue around his tip, licking the thick precum, finally getting a taste of him. you hear his voice shake for a second. satoru pretends to cough. he must be sensitive on his tip, you figure, and focus on teasing his tip.

you start rubbing his length where your mouth can't reach. every time you release his cock, you quickly swirly your tongue on his tip so that he shakes slightly, making him shift in his chair to not expose your affair to the clueless man. you repeat: suck, pump, release, twirl. suck, pump, release, twi-

satoru spasms on his chair once again as your tongue touches his tip. you think he's cumming for a moment, but those thoughts disappear once you feel a strong hand grab you by your hair, pulling you away from his cock.

"see you tomorrow, satoru" the man says before he leaves the room. with the door closing, satoru pulls back. in a moment, you find yourself picked up like a cat and sat on the table.

"you think you're funny?" gojo growls. "teasing me like that? in front of my colleague?" his eyebrows are furrowed and jaw is clenched. he looks terrifying.

"i-i thought you wanted me to-"

"getting spoiled, hm? do you need to be disciplined?" it's almost as if gojo was searching for a reason to be mad at you, to fuck you like you mean nothing to him.

before you could respond, gojo discards your crop top and leaves you bare chested and cold. satoru can't decide whether the twitching of his dick is caused by the shock of you not wearing a bra to meet your professor or how arousing your perky, plump tits look in front of him. whatever it is, it's enough to make his beasty look go darker.

gojo hisses with what feels like frustration. he wants you, he wants you now, and he cannot waste another second. in a moment, you're pressed down onto the desk, on your chest with two strong hands pulling your ass up high. the wooden desk is warm, yet the hotness of your body combined with the cooler desk makes your body shiver. it doesn't help that gojo's teasing your entrance with his tip either. you whine under his touch, signaling him to go further in. he's amused at your neediness. you want to use your words, but you end up only being able to whine and groan. it's cute, adorable. satoru wonders how you'd be once he's done with you.

"what should i do?" gojo teases. he places his tip in your entrance, only for your hole to stretch enough to take the head in. the feeling is overwhelming even now, and you know it will hurt once he fully inserts himself.

well, they don't say curiosity kills the cat for no reason.

"p-please, f-fuck..." you whisper, tears pooling in your eyes slowly as frustration and tension grow bigger.

"hm? what was that?" gojo leans in closer to your face, making his cock enter a little more. you whimper with the new feeling. it's more painful, yet somehow very intimate.

"p-please..." you quietly respond again.

"we talked this through. speak up, don't be shy!"

you squeeze the papers scattered on the table, trying to from words, but your mind is blank.

"embarrassed? if it helps, princess, no one can hear you" gojo whispers. the irony. gojo satoru, the nonchalant extrovert that warns you in a craven tone; and you, the shy, anxious little girl, soon screaming your lungs out, begging him to fuck you.

"god, just fuck me!" you scream. it's the start gojo needed, and finally, he can unleash himself into you.

gojo slides his length inside without waiting for you to adjust to him fully. your walls stretch and shrink within a second, as he pulls himself almost completely before entering himself fully once again. your wet hole takes him fully, squeezing every inch of his thick cock. your walm, velvety walls make gojo dizzy with pleasure. his voice switches from manly groans to helpless whimpers. and you, gosh, you're a complete mess. your hair falls over your face, but you're too busy getting railed into oblivion to pick it up. you helplessly grab the edges of the desk in an attempt to gather yourself, but it's no use. the only thing you can do is scream out his name, the only thing you can think of.

"fuck..." gojo hisses into your ear. he grabs a fistful of your hair, finally opening your face. he grabs you closer to his chest and holds you in position by your throat as he uses his other hand to help you catch the rhythm of his thrusts. your back instantly arches, and you need to hold on to his tighs to not fall off. you gasp for breath as he mercilessly pounds into you behind your back. the slapping sounds are too far away from you. your vision gets blurry. it feels good, it shouldn't feel good, but it does. he moves as if he wants to hurt you, to take revenge. he's ruthless, contrary to how softly he kissed your cunt and how sweet he called your name earlier.

"yeah? feels good, hm?" gojo turns your face to his. your wet eyelashes, red cheeks wet with tears, mouth shiny with saliva... what a view he had. and him; his white hair always perfectly in place is now all over his forehead, sweat glistening his long neck, and tight muscles showing under the thin fabric of his shirt. and his eyes... his eyes screaming wildly, violently; yet his gaze is soft and caring. gojo realizes too, as he loosens his grip on your neck, and slows down his tempo. you inhale, cheeks puffed up and head slightly tilted back. gojo takes advantage of the vulnerability of the moment. satoru's soft lips lock with yours in a passionate kiss. he holds your chin in place, and you help him by grabbing his wrist. his tongue dances over yours, and all over your lips. wetness covers your lips. it's messy, you both miss your lips as satoru continues thrusting, but it's more romantic this way. you're both craving each other, something neither of you had realized before this exact moment. your heart beats even faster for a second, as you want to be like this forever. even with his most violent desire, he's so caring and romantic. you know it's all meaningless, that none of these matter, and that your affair will meet its end once he decides he's had enough. so you want to be in this moment forever.

"don't stop" you breathe in his mouth and look into his eyes. satoru's cock twitches inside you, his pace slows down. he slips himself out. did you say something wrong? did he realize what he's doing?

you look at him, confused. satoru's face is impossible to read, he just stands there looking at you. the sudden silence makes you anxious once again. you back up and hit your leg into the desk.

satoru grabs you by your leg as you almost lose your balance. he gently pushes you down by your shoulders and sits you down. he lowers his body before grabbing your knees and making you wrap them around his hips. he unbuttons his shirt but doesn't take it off. his toned abs are finally exposed. you examine every curve on his body, his chest.

satoru locks his lips with yours again. he's softer now. it's like he's known you since forever, like his tongue knows how it's supposed to move inside your mouth. this time, you don't shiver, but a warmness follows down your spine. you cusp his cheek as you deepen the kiss.

there you are, warm light framing your bodies under the sunset, bodies locked. where you end is where satoru begins. your bodies move in harmony. he gently rolls his hips into you, and you lift your hips to meet his. not leaving each others' embrace for a second. what happened so suddenly? is this the beast you were so scared of?

"yes... yes..." you moan into his mouth.

"yeah? you like it, baby?" he asks with a soft voice. you move your head and bury it into his neck. you grab his broad shoulders under his shirt tightly, making sure you're gentle. but you can't help it, you're about to snap. you dig your nails into his skin. he pants and moans into your ear. his voice gets shaky, he sounds so pathetically needy. you realize he needs you as much as you need him.

satoru holds you closer to his chest and embraces you as he fucks through your climax. his steady pace strengthens the tightness down your abdomen. you feel the tingling travel all over your body, as you beg satoru to continue.

"you close, baby? want me to finish inside you, hm?" he asks with a raspy voice. he already knows the answer.

"sa-satoru..." you breathe into his skin.

"look into my eyes" he calls your name. "fuck, look at my eyes"

you tilt your head and meet his glassy, baby blue eyes. he looks so vulnerable in this moment. satoru kisses you once more before he rests his forehead onto yours. his steady pace doesn't change, as you both wait to reach the end.

the knot inside your body tightens and tightens, until it's impossible to stand it. your body spasms under him, and you can only call out his name.

"satoru!" you squirm, not leaving his touch for a second.

"come on baby, cum for me" he pants. "my pretty little girl, you're doing so good"

you let out one last shaky breath and lose control. you shake and spasm, but satoru holds you tightly in place. he rides your climax, as he chases his own. he plants soft kisses all over your face as you lose your mind. your whole body's tingly, mind fuzzy, and numb. you stay there, watching satoru's breath get faster.

you grab both of his cheeks and look into his eyes. you don't look away or move, you hold him in place. his shiny eyes look into yours, amazed at how beautiful you are, how pretty you are for him. and how you're his, in this moment, he's yours.

satoru moves hips further once more before his thrusts stop. his moves come to a full stop. he doesn't avert his gaze, as he slaps his hips into you once more. the warmness washes over you as he empties himself deep inside you. satoru whispers your name, followed by a shaky moan. he stands still for a second, lets his cock rest inside you for a moment as you both stand in silent. he's lost in your embrace, and so are you.

all your anxieties from earlier wash away. he's right, he definitely made sure you like him. and all the papers you ruined, the ones he's supposed to show his students, he will have to think about later.

"you really are very handsome"

gojo's comeback might have taken shorter than mine, but hey, better late than never right? lol anyways, sorry for the long wait and sorry, this isn't the unboxing smut. i suddenly felt the urge to write another jjk teacher/student fic but it's a little more legal now at least. i'm also obsessed with gojo again. hope you enjoyed your meal! (ok but why do my snopsises lowkey eat harder than the fic itself)

this was... easier than i thought it would be. i missed writing so much and haven't felt this much fun and ease writing anything in such a long time! i'm so excited for jjk season 2 and the manga's progress. i think this is another jjk summer yall. also, i'm doing an unofficial internship this summer! so, since i like being active when i'm busy with daily life stuff, who knows, i might become active again

hope you guys liked it! see you next time you horny emo slut ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

[tj-crochets]

Hey y’all! Weird question time! What’s the difference between a muscle cramp, a muscle spasm, and a knot in a muscle? Like, what do they feel like when you experience them, how do you tell them apart*?  I’ve heard all three terms used (in addition to ones that I think are related but am unsure about like pulled muscle, strained muscle, overextended muscle) but I have no idea how to tell which one I am experiencing or how to differentiate between them, even though I’ve looked up definitions a few times over the years? The definitions were not helpful. It’s like acid reflux all over again (any time I asked doctors “how do you tell if you have acid reflux?” they’d just say “if you had it you’d know” without giving me any information to connect symptoms with a name) *my whole sodium georg thing means I am very prone to having my muscles hate me and have bad cramps and/or spasms if I don’t take enough electrolytes, but I suspect I am not using the correct words when describing them to doctors. Which is it when a small part of a muscle (like a 2″ ish patch of your thigh) starts twitching and keeps twitching for hours even if the muscle around it is totally still?