#follower's event

[lakecountylibrary]

🔥 The beacons are lit; the library calls for aid

UPDATES FROM APRIL 1 AND MAY 5: https://www.tumblr.com/lakecountylibrary/782730356592967680/federal-court-halts-dismantling-of-imls-in-ala

UPDATE FROM JUNE 16: Government Accountability Office finds withholding IMLS funds is illegal (Library Journal) It is still important to call Congress and ask them to fund libraries in the 2026 budget.

The Trump administration has issued an executive order aimed at dismantling the Institute of Museum and Library Services - the ONLY federal agency for America's libraries.

Using just 0.003% of the federal budget, the IMLS funds services at libraries across the country; services like Braille and talking books for the visually impaired, high-speed internet access, and early literacy programs.

Libraries are known for doing more with less, but even we can't work with nothing.

How You Can Help:

🔥 Call your congressperson!

Use the app of your choice or look 'em up here: https://www.congress.gov/members/find-your-member

Pro tip: If your phone anxiety is high, call at night and leave a voicemail. You can even write yourself a script in advance and read it off. Heck, read them this post if you want to.

Phones a total no-go? The American Library Association has a form for you: https://oneclickpolitics.global.ssl.fastly.net/messages/edit?promo_id=23577

🔥Tell your friends!

Tell strangers, for that matter. People in line at the check out, your elderly neighbor, the mail carrier - no one is safe from your library advocacy. Libraries are for everyone and we need all the help we can get.

...Wait, why do we need this IMLS thing again?

The ALA says it best in their official statement and lists some ways libraries across the country use IMLS funding:

But if you want a really specific answer, here at LCPL we use IMLS funding to provide our amazing interlibrary loan service. If we can't purchase an item you request (out of print books, for example) this service lets us borrow it from another library and check it out to you.

IMLS also funds the statewide Indiana Digital Library and Evergreen Indiana, which gives patrons of smaller Indiana libraries access to collections just as large and varied as the big libraries' collections.

As usual, cutting this funding will hurt rural communities the most - but every library user will feel it one way or another. Let's let Congress know that's unacceptable.

[aphel1on]

AuDHD is so funny sometimes like what do you mean my hyperfixations/special interests will last for years on end or possibly forever but they will cycle out every month or two with absolutely no transitional period or warning. like i will think about the same topic every day obsessively for 46 days in a row and on the 47th day with no visible cause adhd brain goes "ok! bored of that now" and autism brain goes "dw i got something queued up for ya" and i blast into full blown obsession on some other topic whose mental file folders haven't opened in 9 months. brain's out here treating hyperfixations like a crop rotation. once the dopamine runs out it cycles in another one but once something's in the rotation it never ever leaves. last summer we brought in one from when i was 11. it's so funny to me but frustrating too bc like. i cannot stress enough my inability to predict or control this. or how completely abrupt and random it can be

EDIT: seems this is more common among ND people than i thought, and probably not limited to AuDHD specifically :] i was just describing my own experiences and i'm not an authority, but i'm glad i'm not alone in this<3

[crowkip]

yeehaw, baby!

[deardaichi]

for @h0neymustardwh0re | event masterpost

tsukishima always tightens the jars just a little too much.

not in a mean way — not enough to frustrate you. just enough that, when your hands slip and you turn with a quiet, helpless look, he’s already reaching for it. already peeling it from your grasp like it was part of the plan.

which, of course, it always is.

he doesn’t say anything. just opens it easily, hands it back, and shrugs like it was nothing. but you know the look he gets — that small, satisfied curl at the corner of his mouth. like he's been waiting for you to need him.

you let him have it. every time.

he does it with everything — the pasta sauce, the jam, even the tin of butter cookies that clicks shut a little too snugly after he’s had his share. it’s not just about the jars to him. it’s about the way he likes being the one you turn to, the one who’s always there. quiet, reliable. smug in the way only someone completely yours can be.

and maybe you roll your eyes, maybe you sigh — but you still pass him the next one. every single time.

© deardaichi | everything here is written with care — please don’t repost, copy, or alter my work without permission.

[calcifiedunderland]

I love your selkie Jade fic!! It’s so good and so creative! I need a Floyd courting fic like I need air, maybe where Yuu has no idea what Floyd strange behavior is, but the octavinelle crew is acting very odd and extra smug when they see Floyd and the prefect together

🐬💥💌Request received! Thank you for your message, your delivery is ready~

THANK YOU!!! I’m glad you liked the Jade Selkie fic AH!!! I really wanted to write a Floyd version too hehe, hope you enjoy~

Floyd Leech, ft. Selkie

Jade! Azul!

Floyd was confident no one would dare take his pelt. It was easy to steal a selkie’s pelt when it was left unattended (like Jade’s) or hidden (like Azul’s). Floyd always knew where his was - always, always, on his person.

When he had to go to the surface to attend NRC, their father gave him two pieces of advice. One, always pay attention to your footwear. And two, always keep your pelt with you. Whether it’s in your bag, over your shoulders, or under your clothes.

People expected Floyd to be more lax with his skin, but he took the advice to heart more than Jade, who liked showing it off tantalizingly to those grubby landers. So, Floyd’s pelt was always under his clothes. He hated the feeling of extra layers, but he hated being parted with the pelt even more. The very thought of being taken away from the ocean made his human skin crawl.

Imagine his panic when he couldn’t find it once he returned to his dorm after club practice.

He’d tied the pelt securely underneath his basketball jersey, and practice went off without a hitch. He was fired up that day too. He’d won points left and right, and left the gym feeling great. Up until he realized his pelt was no longer snugly tied to his torso, and his heart dropped. He’d passed through the gym, the entire school, the mirror chamber, and through the Lounge up to his dorm. He could’ve lost it anywhere. To anyone.

Jade opened their dorm door to see Floyd flinging things around their room, and launching himself to Jade’s side to dig through his things. “What in the Seven’s are you doing, Floyd?” He didn’t even need to a response when Floyd turned to him with sheer panic on his face. Jade felt his throat tighten. Floyd lost his pelt.

Meanwhile, you stared at the… cloth? in front of you. Earlier today, you’d stopped by the gym while running errands for Crowley. As you made your way across, you noticed a teal heap amidst the basketballs. You knelt, curious, and picked it up. Wait, isn’t this what Jade and Floyd wear?

You didn’t really know what it was, only that it seemed special to them. You never wanted to be rude and ask him about it though, since you figured Floyd had his reasons for hiding it, while Jade has his own for flaunting it.

That thing was massive. You didn’t even see a zipper on it, so it couldn’t be a jacket. Not to mention, it felt kind of… leathery, almost. Like fish skin or something.

When you got to Ramshackle, you folded it neatly before tucking it in a spare shoebox you had. It had a few jewelry pieces in it with shells and pearls. You also chucked a shoe polish in, as well as some funky patterned socks you didn’t want. You decided to leave them in, tucked under the cloth. Maybe Floyd would like them.

The next day, you walked into Mostro Lounge with the box. You overheard some students freaking out, whispering about Floyd being in one of his moods, but this time it was even worse.

You frowned, suddenly nervous. Floyd’s freaking out? Why? You clutched the box a bit tighter. Was it because of the cloth?

In Azul’s office, Floyd was damn near about to blow the whole dorm up. It took Jade wrestling him down and Azul placating him, to get him to calm down just a fraction.

Even now, Jade had to keep watchful eye on him while Azul had a million contracts on his desk, hair wild from running his hands through it. Currently, Floyd was staring listlessly at the wall, bouncing his leg wildly. Who could have possibly been brazen enough to take Floyd’s pelt…? Jade and Azul had an understanding. They’d make them pay for this.

You overheard someone say Floyd was in Azul’s office, so you knocked on the door. “Hey, is Floyd in there?” You called, walking in. Jade glanced at Floyd, who seemed to at least compose himself in front of you. How interesting.

You stopped in front of Floyd, who looked up at you from the couch. He looked up at you, irritated. You cleared your throat, presenting the box to him. “I found your… belongings so I thought I’d give it back to you. It was in the gym, I figured you didn’t want to lose it.”

Floyd’s eyes zeroed in on the box, sensing the pelt, and he grabbed it from you. He nearly tore the top off, but at last he had his pelt back. He almost tore his uniform off then and there to feel it against his skin when he suddenly stopped.

You gave it back to him. You, gave it back to him. You gave it back.

Jade and Azul stared wide eyed at you and Floyd. You cleared your throat uncomfortably, “I also put some extra stuff in the box too, if you want it.”

Floyd lifted the skin a bit, and his eyes went wide. Glittering jewelry, shells, and pearls nestled in the folds of the pelt. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and Jade and Azul gasped.

“Oho?” Jade said, grinning slowly. “Oho?” Azul looked shocked. Floyd lifted the pelt out, and more jewelry fell out between the folds. Jade lifted his hand to his mouth, looking sly, “how forward of you, (Name). And in front of us, too.” Azul rose an eyebrow, pleased, “I must say, I didn’t expect you to be the pelt thief. What an interesting development.”

Floyd was quiet, staring at everything in shock. He didn’t expect this from you, Shrimpy. You always were able to surprise him, but this took the bait. It was like everything started to make sense.

You had to know what you’d done. You gave Floyd jewelry, something merfolk did when they wanted to show affection. Not only that, you gave him things directly related to his interests. He eyed the shoe polish with interest, grinning widely. This was textbook courting rituals.

“Ne, shrimpy really is the best~” He stood, mood completely changed. You shrank back a bit as he leered over you. As he gazed into your eyes, you felt the acute sense that you just did something big.

“Don’t you worry Shrimpy, I’m gonna repay you back real good~” Floyd winked at you. You smiled nervously, conscious of the others’ smirks, “I-I should go.” You scurried out of Azul’s office, hearing Floyd’s raucous laughter echo behind you.

Floyd’s kinda weird today, you thought. You didn’t particularly mind it, though. Although dealing with Azul and Jade was a doozy.

Azul ran into you earlier, although you weren’t sure it was on accident. He’d hummed cryptically, with that sneaky businessman smirk he had when he knew something you didn’t. “I must say, it was incredibly forward of you to present Floyd’s pelt, especially with extra gifts. He was energetic all night, he hardly did any Lounge work,” Azul’s words somehow held little annoyance. Confusion filled you. His ‘pelt’? And the jewelry and shoe polish? Was it a big deal?

Azul continued, “You should find Jade later. He will want to speak to you, especially to go over your plans.” Your brow furrowed, echoing “plans?” Azul nodded, amused. “It’s more informal, since we’ve known you before. Just to discuss matters - the timing, ideal circumstance, your intentions, so forth.” He’d walked off before you could ask more. Your head swam.

You hadn’t been able to properly speak to Jade. He was all cordial smiles and, surprisingly, bowed to you multiple times. An amused smile graced his face, and he seemed to revel in your alarm. He’d brush past you just before you could ask him anything, and was always replaced by Floyd bounding up to you and taking you into his arms in giggles.

Ever since you gave him the box, Floyd was strangely clingy. His constant hugging and nuzzling you was borderline affectionate, and it made your heart stutter and stomach feel fluttery. You noted that he was wearing the jewelry you stuck in the box, next to the pelt peeking out of his shirt.

“Hey, (Name),” he said while leaning against you. You were both in the library. Floyd insisted on accompanying you everywhere, and seemed to be exhausted with how much he was yawning at you. “We should go swimmin,’ I’m bored here.”

You sighed, shutting your notebook. “I have work to do, Floyd.” You spied a couch nearby, “you could take a nap maybe, if you’re tired?” Floyd looked you up and down, before grinning. “Nah.”

He tossed you over his shoulder, and you shouted, making the ghost librarians shush you loudly. “Floyd!” He laughed and ran out before the ghosts could catch him.

He ran you all the way to the back of Mostro Lounge by the private fish tanks, where the tanks for the merfolk were. Finally he put you down, still cuddling you as the blue light from the waters washed over you.

Seeing the tanks, you suddenly remembered Azul talking about a pelt. Your mind flashed to the cloth you picked up from the gym. The skin-like texture. Floyd’s moodiness. The secrecy. You’d heard the word ‘Selkie’ being thrown around before, and you knew Floyd was a mer. The thought hid you like a truck - if the pelt belonged to Floyd, then was he a Selkie? Your heart pounded. And you gave the pelt back to him.

Jade walked in, holding a drink and potion in hand. “Ah, Floyd, you’re back.” Floyd grinned at him, shaking you side to side in his arms, “hey Jade~ me n’ Shrimpy are going to take a swim!” Jade smiled pleasantly, gaze locking onto you. “Could I have a moment with (name), please? It should only take a minute.”

Floyd pouted, but Jade gave him a look. Finally, let you go with a little sulk, but not before giving you a final squeeze. “I’ma be back, Shrimpy!~ Don’t go anywhere!” He flounced off, leaving you with Jade.

Jade handed you the drink and potion. “This is on the house, and this is an underwater breathing potion. I thought you may need one,” he said cryptically. You smiled warily at him, and you dumped the potion into the drink to mix it.

Jade sighed happily. “Mother and Father will be so thrilled.” You sipped your drink, throat feeling dry. “What do you mean?”

Jade continued as if he didn’t hear you, “please be gentle to Floyd. He’s never done this before, but I’ve never seen him so besotted with anything before.” Jade suddenly became serious, looking you in the eye. “You will not hurt him. And you won’t need to worry about him. I assure you, our parents took our lessons quite seriously where courting was concerned. He was always the one to wear his heart on his fins, so to speak. He’s quite romantic at heart, really.”

You nearly choked. “C-courting?!” Jade nodded, slowly grinning mischievously. “Of course. You made your intentions quite clear when you gave Floyd back his pelt. With some lovely courting gifts, no less.” Jade looked fondly at you, patting your shoulder. “You will be a welcome part of the family. Usually gifts such as jewelry come much later in the courting process, but I expect you’ll be betrothed quite soon with how taken Floyd is with you.”

Now you actually choked. “He- what?!” You couldn’t lie, you weren’t exactly upset about Floyd liking you, but courting? This was fast. Jade nodded. If he sensed your growing panic and confusion, he certainly ignored it (or found it entertaining) as he smiled at you. “Yes, he was quite pleased that you were the one who found his pelt. Ah, young love~”

You downed your drink as Floyd bounded back to you, sweeping you up. “Shrimpy~ I’m back!” He’d stripped off his outer garments. His pelt was draped over his shoulders like a towel, and he grinned down at you. “Let’s go~ I’ll keep ya safe, promise!”

As he waded into the waters, you decided to just accept your fate. You reached up and kissed Floyd on the cheek, pressing your face to his gently. He squished you against him as the water rose and his lower half meshed with the pelt, turning back into his eel form.

He rubbed his cheek against yours, “I’m happy you gave me back my pelt, Shrimpy.” You felt Floyd smile against your face, and you hugged him back. “Y’know what? I’m happy too, Floyd.”

THE MAN THE MYTH THE EEL!!! Floyd!!!!!

[honeyluvsw]

nelly.core pngs ! images not mine, i'd just prefer you don't repost as your own pngs please.

✶ for my 3k followers event !

[itseghost]

the captured! quest was so funny that i actually drew multiple things at once

[gooserings]

@linked-disability prompt 5: sensory impairment (specifically time’s decreased depth perception)

although people with monocular vision (only one eye) can still perceive depth and distance, it’s less accurate than people with binocular vision (and especially with close objects)

time probably doesn’t struggle with this as much as he would’ve when he first lost his vision, but this isn’t the first egg he’s lost and it won’t be the last. he’ll have occasional issues like this for the rest of his life, and it’s extra difficult since he lost his eye relatively recently (every time jojo draws him as a young adult he has both eyes, so it happened in the past 5-10 years)

all of the posts that i’ve made for the linked disability event so far have been about things that i or a family member experience. legend’s joint pain is from me, four’s migraines are based largely on my brother, and time’s depth perception is my dad!

this comic actually is based on a somewhat common occurrence in my house: my dad was born blind in one eye, and although he says it doesn’t affect his day-to-day life in huge ways, it does mean that he has to pay more attention when cracking eggs.

time would probably experience more problems than my dad, but ultimately monocular vision is something that the brain can adapt to! time will just need to be more mindful, and probably relearn some things about fighting.

i have a couple more little comics that i want to make inspired by situations with my dad (my siblings and i loved to mess with him and i know the chain would 100% do the same) but no promises on those lol

[14dayswithyou]

HAPPY VARENTINES DAY, ANGEL ! I've been facing some tech issues recently, but!! To celebrate Ren's birthday and Valentine's Day, I'll be releasing Day 5 (the Early Access version) for all the Beta Testers in a few days!

And for those who aren't part of the 14DWY Discord server, don't worry! The public version will be available for everyone to play once the beta testing period is over ^^

[ryllen]

jade from this fanfic | [ risky proximity ]

[skzdust]

Can I Touch?

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

Merry Christmas, everyone. This is my smutty present to all of you and to Bee especially lol.

This fic was a request from @kpop---scenarios (here) and a part of my 500 followers celebration!! Big thanks for requesting bestie and I hope you love it <3 The prompt was #23, caught in the act, with Lee Know, NSFW!

Summary: Minho is horny at a party, and now it's your problem... and, when you sneak into Hyunjin's room, it becomes his problem, too.

Pairing: Lee Know x Hyunjin x fem!reader

Includes: fucking at a party, an unexpected visitor, nipple play, unprotected sex, kissing

Word count: 1.3k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz, @jeonginsleftcheek

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

Minho leaned in by your ear. “C’mon, baby, just come with me for a second?”

You laughed softly. “Everyone’s here, Minho, they’ll notice if we’re gone.”

“No, they won’t.” His breath tickled your ear. “No one will know. It’ll just be you and me.”

You swallowed. You couldn’t deny that it sounded appealing. Minho had spent the whole evening working you up— his hands grazing your thigh, or lingering a bit too long on your waist. His eyes roaming your chest, your whole body. You wanted him, and it was clear he wanted you. “Minho… I don’t know.”

“But I need you, baby.” He murmured. “Need you bad.”

You sucked a breath in through your teeth. “You need me so bad you can’t wait till we get home?”

“Exactly.” He nipped at your earlobe, and you were glad the girl you’d been talking to had wandered off a minute ago, leaving no one to pay attention to Minho’s blatant attempts to turn you on.

“Okay.” You whispered. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but… yes.”

“Sounds good.” He pressed a kiss to your neck. “Let’s go find a bedroom.”

Your stomach leapt as Minho led you by the hand up the stairs. “Min, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yeah… I know which one is Hyunjin’s. He won’t care.”

You laughed. “You mean he won’t care if we fuck on his bed?”

“Exactly.” Minho smiled, pushing open a door. “Come on in.”

You followed him into the room, and he shut the door before pressing you against it and all but growling in your ear. “Baby… you look so good in that little fucking dress. Trying to tease me all night.”

“I wasn’t trying to tease you.” You said, but you were breathless already as Minho’s hand found its way up your skirt to play with your underwear.

“Sure.” He ran his fingers over your pussy, prompting a whine. You were so sensitive to his touch, especially when you were already horny.

“Okay, so, maybe a little bit.” You admitted.

“Just what I thought, baby.” He kissed you, long, searing on your lips. You could barely breathe as he invaded your mouth, his tongue pressing against yours. His hand was still playing with you, and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

“Oh, you like that?” He rubbed at your pussy harder through your underwear, the fabric rough against you.

“Yes, Minho.” You exhaled.

“Get on the bed.”

You wiggled your underwear off, throwing them somewhere on the floor, and landed on your back on the bed.

Minho crawled on top of you, and as you looked down you could see the bulge in his pants. “You want it, baby? You want it inside you?”

“Yes.” You whimpered. “Want it deep inside me, Minho. We gotta be fast.”

He laughed as he leaned down to kiss you again, hard, demanding. He broke away and sat back to pull off his pants and boxers.

He was already hard, but he stroked himself a few times as he lined himself up with your hole. “Just know you’re gonna be so good around me.”

You just whined, angling your hips up.

Minho rubbed his tip around a little bit, getting it wet with your slick, and began to push inside. He was about halfway in when the door hinges squeaked.

You both froze, whipping towards the door.

Hyunjin stood there, his eyebrows raised. “Well, I didn’t expect you guys to be in here.”

Minho began to pull out.

“No, no, don’t stop.” Hyunjin closed the door, leaning against it, watching the two of you. “Go on. If you’re borrowing my room, you at least should give me a show.”

You nodded, looking at Minho. “We should, shouldn’t we?”

He smirked. “We should.” He pushed back inside with one big thrust that made your eyes roll back and pulled a long moan from your throat.

“Fuck.” Hyunjin said softly.

“She’s so pretty when she’s getting fucked, isn’t she?” Minho’s voice was fond, tender. “I’ve always thought so.”

“She’s gorgeous.” Hyunjin groaned. “She’s fucking hot is what she is.”

“My girl, Hyunjin.” Minho reminded him with a smirk.

“You’re giving me a show. Aren’t I supposed to be watching?”

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t watch.” Minho fucked into you again, and your moan was broken. “Just don’t try to touch.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“Good.” Minho’s hands wrapped around your waist, and he began to fuck you in earnest, his speed picking up. All you could do was grab at his hands and moan, your hips bucking up to meet his.

“Can’t I just touch a little?” Hyunjin’s voice was playful. “Those tits look so nice in that dress.”

Minho stopped moving, looking at you. “Y/n, how do you feel about Hyunjin touching you?”

“Yes.” You said, wriggling in an effort to get Minho to start up again. “Yes, Hyunjin, please touch me.”

Minho smirked again. “Play with her nipples.”

Hyunjin sat behind you, moving your head into his lap, as he leaned over to push the strapless top of your dress down.

“Fuck.” You moaned, your whole body arching off the bed as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers and Minho began to thrust into you again.

“Pretty girl.” He said, his voice a warm contrast to the rough treatment he was giving your tits.

“Sharing might not be so bad, look at how sensitive and twitchy she is.” Minho’s voice was arrogant. You couldn’t see him at this point, your eyes were squeezed shut at all of the sensations washing over you.

“So much.” You breathed.

“Is it too much, baby?” Minho’s voice softened.

“No!” You said quickly. “No, keep going, please, both of you.”

Hyunjin pinched your nipples at the same time, and you let out a little cry. Minho drilled into your hole harder, pushing the air out of you with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm fast approaching.

As you hit the peak of your pleasure, Hyunjin’s ministrations slowed. “No, no, keep going!” You managed to get out through your moans.

“Okay.” He whispered, pinching you even harder. You practically screamed, arching off the bed as they continued to work your body.

You collapsed back down, but neither of them stopped. You felt overstimulated, every sensation so strong and intense, but you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted to be a good girl and get Minho off. You laid there and let it all wash over you.

And soon enough he did cum, deep inside you, with a long groan. Hyunjin’s hands only slowed as Minho pulled out, cum spilling onto Hyunjin’s sheets.

“Ah, sorry.” Minho laughed, looking down.

“It’s okay, I can wash them.” Hyunjin smiled. “Thank you for letting me join, both of you.”

“You’re welcome to share me again, if you like.” You offered, pushing yourself up. You knew you looked thoroughly debauched, your hair messy, your makeup surely running, your top pushed down and your skirt pushed up.

“Fuck, you’re a vision, y/n.” Hyunjin breathed, and you looked down to see how hard he was.

“If… if Minho’s okay with it, you can use me, if you want.” You said.

Minho nodded. “As long as you make her feel good, too.”

Hyunjin swallowed, his eyes raking over you. “I want to make her feel so good.”

You whined.

“Then be my guest.” Minho moved from between your legs, and Hyunjin took his spot. Minho began to stroke your hair, kissing down your neck, as Hyunjin lined himself up.

 You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

[besidesjustmyamour]

i heard that you like the bad girls, honey, is that true?

pairing: childhoodbestfriend!satoru x reader

after what feels like a lifetime of knowing and loving him, satoru gojo finally gives you his heart. little do you know, it’s always been yours, even when you think otherwise.

18+ content ahead! alexa play submissive and breedable---

wc: 8.2k

a/n: so... if he had been with me, anyone? this oneshot is inspired by video games by your queen and mine, lana del rey, for a 2k event by another queen i know, @nanamisbbygirl. go read some of her and other awesome writers' pieces!! im so excited to be a part of this and to read my fellow authors' work!

pictures are from pinterest and dividers are by easytiger-xo on tumblr!

hc list that inspired this work!

find the rest of my works here!!

Satoru Gojo was your childhood.

Your best friend. The one you’ve known for so long, your bond stretching back to when the days blurred together in the hazy skies, where you chased one another around the ponds in the summertime, scattering bread to the ducks while your mothers scolded you for wasting food. 

Sharing stolen glances and sneaky grins as you disappeared under the moonlight, just the two of you under the warmth of the firelit glow.

If you had to put a date to it, you’d say you fell in love with him the day you met.

The boy across the street. Shy, wide eyes. Glasses that were too low for his nose, always being pressed up against his face by his trembling fingers. He was quiet and strange in a way that was comfortable to you—someone exhausted by daily life.

And as the years tugged and stretched at your skin, limbs and body, there was still that sereneness in Satoru that you could never quite let go. As if all the days spent hanging from trees upside down, blood rushing to your cheeks while Satoru read a book under the shade, grinning back up at you were simply memories and not a simpler time.

Of course, as all things do, it would never be the same.

Over time, shared birthday parties became separate parties—one azure and soccer themed with a racecar cake, and another pink and frilly and Barbie themed with a puppy cake. Once upon a time, those would’ve been switched.

You grew older. Skirts grew shorter. Tops cropped themselves to the point where more skin was exposed than it wasn’t. The shade of lipstick you wore darkened. Satoru joined the swim team, losing spindly bones and growing lithe and agile, lean and strong.

And then everything switched. Suddenly parties with both boys and girls weren’t frowned upon, but encouraged. That your relationship with Satoru wasn’t normal because how could it be? Of course society knows better than anyone else about the two of you.

How can you know someone all your life and still have no idea who they are?

You thought you knew Satoru. The quiet geek who always had a snappy retort stored in the back of his head, sometimes the only thing the class would get out of him for the entire year. The one who tangled his fingers in yours in the dewy grass, promising never to let go.

Now he was loud and showy and always grinning at every girl that walked past the campus, eyes flitting lower and lower until shame wasn’t a problem anymore. Until his glasses slipped off his face one day and they never showed up again.

You missed him. Being loud and quiet. Being two things at once.

Because now you were playing pretend with an imposter over your skin—who was this girl? Did you really want to be that girl?

Would Satoru like her?

You didn’t know what Satoru liked anymore.

The first of your many, many interactions came with your mothers not knowing how to take a hint. As if they didn’t notice the dwindling visits, the brick wall that slowly grew taller and taller with your time apart.

And the university sent all its students home for a ‘rest and reflection gap year after weed was found on the campus—no doubt having something to do with the juniors trailing Satoru, with the way he sheepishly flashed a smile at the administrators and got away with a slap on the wrist.

But your mothers were neighbors. Right across the street. And they were still best friends throughout all these years, through your mom’s divorce and his dad’s death. It was like time had brought them closer together while it drove a stake between you and Satoru.

“Be a dear and take these over to Satoru’s house, mkay?” Your mother grinned, thinking it was just like old times when you were always begging for an excuse to be over at his house.

“Ma, do I have to?” you complained even as she was dragging you out the front door.

“Don’t come back until seven, okay?” Her smile grew wider as she slammed the door in your face. You blinked then turned to the house across the street.

Even though you were praying for it, a stray car pointedly did not crash into you as you slowly walked across the road, steps careful and cautious and infuriatingly meticulous.

You lifted your fist to knock, fingers clenched, dragging a breath full of flowers from the front garden, the ones you used to pluck out of the ground and tie into crowns, resting atop Satoru’s head—

Satoru.

“Do you… need something?” His voice echoed from behind you.

“Oh. Hi.” You whirled around, jabbing him in the chest with the force of your hand jutting out and holding the bag of food your mother had packed. “My mom sent this over.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, rubbing his chest. His arms were exposed to the breeze in his loose-fitting gray tank. His fingers slid around yours for a brief moment before he took the bag and blinked at you. “Can you…”

Your heart sped up, pattering in your chest. “What?”

“Can you move?” he finished, gesturing behind you. Earbuds dangled from his neck. “I’m sweaty and I need to take a shower and my bathroom happens to be in the house behind you.”

“Oh.” You stepped to the side as he fished his keys from his pocket.

“It’s… been a while.” The door creaked open as he stepped inside. “Hasn’t it?”

You swallowed painfully. “Yeah. It has.”

“Do you… maybe… wanna come inside?”

“Yes,” you screamed, only it came out as, “oh, no thanks, my mom’s waiting for me at home.”

“Okay.”

“Yup.”

“Right.”

“I’ll be going now.”

“You… do that.”

“Bye.”

You listed the conversation in your mind as two things.

One, the most awkward interaction you’ve ever had.

Two, the reason never to go to his house ever again.

Another year passed. Just because you rarely saw Satoru didn’t mean you weren’t nearly always thinking about him. Even with your new boyfriend.

He was tall and strong and handsome and smart and part of a sorority but this guy you were hanging out with didn’t mean anything to you at all. He should’ve, but all you could think about was how he was never, ever going to measure up to Satoru.

But Satoru didn’t care. And this guy did.

Somewhere along the line you must’ve realized that. Senior year.

The year that would end it all. Friend groups broken, splintered, promises to stay together that would end up shattered like broken glass. Careers calling and a world to see.

You joined the same college as Satoru, just like you had always planned. You remembered that. It didn’t seem like he had.

Bad girls went good. Good girls went bad.

The boys were the same as always.

Satoru got a girlfriend. Time skipped past like a rock on a still lake.

You didn’t care much after that.

Thanksgiving. A time to be grateful.

And all you could think of was who you didn’t have.

Your mother faintly suggested having your father over for dinner. You glared at her and wondered how she can still love a man that clearly doesn’t want her.

And then you realized you were doing the exact same thing.

So you agreed. Your father came over, a changed man. He pressed a prickly kiss to your forehead and you thought, Maybe if I had gone with you, I would’ve forgotten about everything.

About him.

Satoru’s mom came over. Your parents and his mom get drunk on too many glasses of wine. You can hear them stumbling around in the lower floor, crowding the refrigerator, trying to relive their glory days.

You really, really didn’t want to face them.

So you snuck around the back of the house and crossed the street to the one place that you know will always be empty. At least you thought it would be.

The fridge light bathed your face in a cold glow as you scanned the contents, looking for the orange juice that your mom always insisted was unhealthy but never said anything about when Satoru’s mom would stock up on it just for you.

Muffled thuds echoed from upstairs. Satoru?

Concern wasn’t the word to describe what was ringing through your head. More like curiosity, the same one that killed the cat, the same one that made you creep up the stairs and press your ear against his bedroom door.

Moaning. You recognized her voice. You couldn’t remember her name.

You didn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

But you did. And the drumming of your heart was louder than your footsteps.

A pause. “Who’s there?”

You wound your fingers over your mouth, muscles tense, coiled. There was some shuffling, then soft murmuring before footsteps thudded to the beat of your heart. The door creaked open. You sunk back into the shadows, hoping he wouldn’t see you.

And yet somehow, you were the first thing his eyes landed on, as if he knew you were there the entire time, just waiting.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru’s voice was faintly amused.

“I… uhm… orange juice.” You held up the bottle, chill against your fingers.

“You… interrupted me for orange juice?” The corner of his mouth curved.

“I didn’t know you were in there!” you retorted.

“Right. So then what were you planning to do in my bedroom?”

“I wasn’t… you…” You scowled at him. “You’re insufferable.”

Satoru looked unbothered. He reached up, hooking an arm around the doorframe, leaning out of it. From here, you could see the stretch of his collarbone, the muscles that rippled over his lithe frame with every slight movement.

You recalled the little boy. Where was he now?

“So… you just gonna stand there?” Satoru quirked his brow. “Or are you thinking of joining in?”

“I’m going now,” you said loudly, pushing past him to the stairs, fingers brushing against the inches of exposed skin you could reach.

God, you were thirsting over someone that would never be yours.

You tried to forget him. Really, you did.

When your boyfriend was kissing up and down your neck, you focused on the long, inky strings of his hair curled in your fingers, the feeling of his tongue on your skin.

But when you brought your eyes to his, it was like your mind had an idea of its own.

Slender, curved fingers curled at your waist. Electric eyes buzzed with that quirky excitement he got towards anything he liked. Milky locks that looked so much better plastered against his dewy skin.

You pushed him away. Out of your mind.

But he kept coming back. An unwelcome intruder.

It got worse. You broke up with your boyfriend a few days later. You caught him in a room of a party where the lights were too harsh and the music was blaring and all you could do was stare at Satoru leaning against the back wall with a drink tipped against his face.

You couldn’t blame him for leaving you. At that point you were a cheater too. Cheating on him. Cheating yourself for thinking you could get over this silly little crush you’ve had since childhood.

But when the holidays came around, you didn’t have anyone to love you. Almost a year of trying and trying and failing and failing and you still couldn’t love properly. You didn’t know what it felt like to be loved properly.

And of course your mother decided it was the perfect time to host a Christmas party.

Shoko glared at you over the rim of her cup, slamming it down onto the table.

“Okay, what is wrong with you? You’ve never let a boy get you like this before!” A pointed nail flicked you across the forehead. “So spit it out. What’s really going on?”

“Can’t I be sad I lost a relationship worth almost a year?” you argued.

“No, because that guy was a dunce and you deserve so much better anyways,” she retorted. “And you’ve never been like this. Not since—”

“Since what, Shoko?” You knew what she was faltering to say. What words were tied in her throat, stuck underneath her tongue.

“You know what I mean,” she mumbled, gaze flickering from you to the door.

“Guess who’s here?” your mother sang, opening the door to reveal—

Satoru. Why did he have to be so goddamn beautiful all the time?

He reached up to cup the back of his neck, exposing a sliver of skin that ran just below the rim of his shirt. You jerked your gaze back up to his eyes, locked onto you.

“Hi, auntie. Thanks for inviting me over.”

“Nonsense, you’re practically family!” she crooned, ushering him towards you two.

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Been a while, Gojo.”

“You don’t get to call me that, pipsqueak,” he teased, looming over her.

“Shut up.” Irritation quirked her face as she thrusted a cup to his chest. “Join the club.”

It’s been a while since you were all under the same roof together. With Shoko studying abroad, the three of you kept your boundaries to weekly check-ins in the group chat. Not that Satoru ever replied. Too busy for you. For her. For the three of you.

Once upon a time, your lives were three intertwined strings.

Shoko was purple. Moody and sullen and always asshole-ish.

Satoru was blue. Soothing and calm and always smiling softly.

You were pink. Bright and cheery and always grinning.

Whatever happened to the young, young lovers? Lovers of love.

Of one another.

Back then, when you would look at the future, it would be like looking at a snowglobe where you would be standing with Shoko’s fingers in yours and Satoru’s arm looped around your neck. Your faces would wane with age. But you would be happy.

Nothing of the sort now.

“How are the states?” Satoru mumbled.

“Fine,” she replied in that kind of way that made it clear it was not fine. “How’s life here?”

“Boring,” he answered, “as always.”

Boring? That wasn’t a word anyone would use to describe Satoru Gojo’s life. He breathed excitement, jumped off of cliffs, and radiated thrilling danger. When you think YOLO, there would only ever be one person that would come to mind.

Shoko flitted her eyes from you, to him, then back to you.

“What’s going on with you two?”

You jerked away from her, blinking. “Nothing.”

Satoru stilled, hand lingering in the air where it had reached for the juice bottle. “What makes you say that?”

“Uhm, hello? The vibe is giving you guys got into a relationship and then broke up without telling me,” she snapped.

“She did break up,” he muttered softly, before rushing to add, “but not with me. Some other guy. He cheated on her.”

You blinked at him. “How do you know that?”

Satoru stared back. “I… was there. It was my party.”

As if you weren’t already humiliated enough, your mother disregarded the flush of your skin and insisted that Shoko and Satoru spend the night. You argued against it. She laughed. The argument ended there. They were going to stay the night.

And it wasn’t as horrible as you thought it was going to be.

Shoko ran into your room and stole your blankets and kicked your feet out from underneath you. Satoru grinned and tickled your sides and spilled juice on the floors only to slip and fall with a single misstep.

It’s been a while since you were happy. Since anything was real.

Shoko’s soft snores filled the room. Light chatter had shifted to Satoru’s house, where your parents decided to camp for the night, leaving the house to just the three of you.

You watched her chest ride and fall from the other side of the bed, knowing that Satoru was just past it, curled up on the ground with one of your pillows under his cheek.

Did he do that to all girls? Make them fall in love with him and then break their hearts slowly with the realization that he’ll never love them back? Or, as always, were you the lone exception?

You tried to keep your footsteps quiet and unnoticeable when slipping out of the house. Eyes fixated on the booming coming from the opposing home, you leaned onto the railing and realized that your mother grew bolder with every day that passed while you shrunk more and more into yourself.

A shell of your past. Your mother made a passing comment about it. You never replied. It became the steady cadence of your life—now Satoru was the one at the head of the rollercoaster, risking his life and thirsting for danger while you stayed in the back, comfortable with your books and wanting nothing more than to settle down and be happy.

Why was it so hard for you to find happiness without him?

The door creaked open. You jolted, mind racing for an excuse.

Satoru stepped onto the porch. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?”

“No,” you muttered, shifting away from him as his elbows brushed against yours on the railing. “The wind’s too strong.” The grass was stiller than a painting.

“Why…” Satoru shook his head. Threaded snow fell into his eyes. “Never mind.”

It was a comfortable, quiet silence. More than you were used to getting from him. The occasional nod. The jerk of his head was always unfamiliar to you, because when the fuck did Satoru Gojo get this confident?

Maybe it appeared with more of your insecurities in the mirror. When you disappeared into a box into his mind, he broke out of it and showed himself to the world. And where it had rejected you, it had accepted him.

Into social groups. Into friend circles. He was a part of society that you could never reach. That you yearned for when you were a kid. You weren’t caring much about that lately. Not when most of those kids were hookers and strippers and dealers and the bad things in the world.

Not Satoru. You never knew how he retained that morality when the world was a tidal wave that crashed him into the beach of evil, whispering to go with the crowd. You didn’t know how he was able to stand on his two feet and scream back to it.

It was something unsettling about the way he was standing here, now.

“I…” Satoru sucked in a sharp breath. “I missed you.”

“We see each other all the time.”

“It’s not… really us.” His eyes found yours, alight and knowing. “We’re not the same people we were before.”

“People are always changing,” you replied with a shrug, nudging closer to him. “You got a girlfriend. I got a boyfriend. It was weird for us to still be… you know, close?”

“But that’s everyone else,” he murmured. “Why couldn’t we be different?”

“You didn’t want to be different,” you pointed out. “You just wanted to be accepted.”

Satoru’s eyes flashed with something vaguely comprehensible.

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

You would get Satoru. You knew you would.

It started with finding out the things he liked. Furiously scrolling on Instagram to see which reels he liked, which Tiktoks he reposted at midnight. It was insane and obsessive and so uncharacteristic that you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and laughed.

Your mother had dropped the laundry basket in the doorway.

Satoru liked sundresses. After all, he reposted all the videos of his female friends wearing them. Particularly, the pink, tight ones. You had one in the back of your closet that you never wore. They always fluttered around you and never hugged your body quite right. You liked the yellow ones better. But you could pull pink off.

Shoko was unimpressed and unconvinced. “Why are you dressed like… Pinterest?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you retorted.

“I mean you’re dressed like my Pinterest feed and it’s weird,” she grumbled. “You’re never normal. But I get what this is about. You're such a loser. I hate you.”

But you didn’t quite care. All that you cared about was the fact that Satoru was drinking up every second of it. Even when you weren’t looking, you felt his eyes prying at your back, invisible hands clawing at your skin.

It was exhilarating.

Satoru liked the smell of vanilla. You’ve known this. It was one of the only things that remained the same throughout your years apart. Unfortunately for you, the very first perfume your mom bought was a sweet, jaded vanilla scent that had lost its charm.

You forgot that she bought it for you right around when Satoru had moved in.

So you bought a new one and promised this picnic would be the reason he loved you. That the checkered pattern of red and white dappling his grin would be where he kissed you.

The sun warmed your faces as you wandered down the grassy path, a woven blanket and wicker basket in hand. Both of your timed footsteps were light, minds drifting on the breeze that carried faint haunts of fresh blooms through the air.

"The water looks beautiful," you said with a gesture toward the distant lake.

"Come on." Satoru met your eyes with a sly grin. "We’re almost there."

You strolled a little further before coming to a strip of shore beneath an old willow's swaying branches. Laying out your blanket upon the grass, you stretched out and relaxed, admiring the tranquility of the area.

“Much better than the neighborhood,” you commented, drawing a genuine laugh from him. “Well, what do you think?”

“It seems like the perfect spot,” he replied.

“I meant my dress. I bought it just recently. Thoughts?”

Satoru pursed his lips. “You look… nice.”

“Why the pause?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“I don’t know… something just… seems off,” he trailed.

“Are you saying it looks bad?”

“No, no. You…” Satoru cut himself off, irritation building in his throat. “I just… never mind. Anyways, aren’t you glad you finally came?” His voice, uncharacteristically nervous, caused you to draw your wandering thoughts back in one place and look up at him.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just…” Satoru sighed, dropping his hands into his lap, fidgeting with them. “Last time I asked, you said no. And the time before that. And then before that. I started thinking… you didn't want to hang out with me or something.”

“I told you I was out,” you said slowly. Satoru’s fingers stilled and he slowly drags his gaze across your body, meeting your eyes as if for the first time. They looked almost ablaze, slanted in the dying rays of the sun. “I had to tell Shoko all about the breakup. Y'know, without you there prowling over our shoulders. And I had to spend some one-on-one time with my girl. She's gone back to the states, so now I'm all yours.”

Even though you shouldn’t have, you remembered when your first boyfriend broke up with you in middle school, and Satoru was there, rubbing your back in soothing circles and whispering consolations in your ear.

You supposed you’ve known him almost as long as you’ve known yourself. Finding yourself was something you couldn’t have done if it weren’t for his influence, pushing you away from what would’ve corrupted you and towards the angelic halo he wanted sitting on your head.

And now look who was corrupted. In protecting you, he forgot to protect himself. But that was before he stopped needing protection and you stopped knowing how to give it.

Satoru flushed. "He was an asshole, anyways,” he mumbled, slightly to himself.

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect," you teased, nudging his ankle with your bare toes.

"I'm far from perfect," he said softly.

You quipped, "Could've fooled me. While I'm wallowing in self pity you sit there as calm as ever. Isn’t that stupid?" You nudged him again, hoping to evoke a smile, but his expression remained tender.

Satoru tilted his head. “No. Why would you say that?”

“I guess some part of me knew that if I didn’t have him, no one else would ever love me.”

Satoru picked at the blanket, coaxing strands to peel away from the tightly woven fabric. “That part’s stupid. You’ll find the one.”

“Don’t get philosophical on me,” you jested. “I need someone to jar back to reality.”

“I’m not!” he protested, flushing even darker. Satoru turned back to the lake, to the ripples steadily running towards you. “He didn’t… like… you know…?”

“Satoru!” You nudged him with your foot, exasperated. “I told him I was waiting until marriage. He wasn’t that bad.”

“Maybe,” he replied, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Watch the food for me?”

“Why?” The corners of your lips twitched. “Are you swimming?”

“Maybe.” Satoru leaned back on his palms, as if only considering the idea now, even when you knew he only came here with the idea of a quick dip. 

Nothing got him relaxed like drifting along in dense water, consuming his thoughts as if absorbing his troubled mind, disappearing into the abyss below. You knew that from the absurd number of times you’d seen him at the pool.

Not that you… watched him.

“I know you want to.” 

Satoru craned his neck. “That obvious?” 

You poked him forward. “Just go already. It’s already getting dark and cold.”

He glanced toward the setting sun, peering at the short winter dusk. Then, with a playful grin, he rose and pulled his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion. 

You watched as lithe muscles shifted beneath golden skin. His shirt landed in a warm heap next to you as he stretched his arms upward, arching his back.

Settling back on your palms, you watched Satoru glide into the waiting water. His form cut smoothly through the glassy surface, barely a disturbance in his wake. 

Ripples kissed the shore as he submerged fully, rolling beneath the water only to emerge seconds later, shaking droplets from his disheveled hair. 

You trace each bead's downward path with your hungry eyes. But you stayed put, watching from afar as Satoru floated languidly, gazing up at the colors fading fast across the sky.

You envied the placid waters bearing him, easing all tensions. That role once belonged to you—someone sinking into such a soothing embrace—but your place was here, drinking in the poetry of his fluid motions beneath the dying glow of dusk.

Satoru slipped out of the water, rubbing his hair with a towel and groaning into it. You pursed your lips and tried to rein in your thoughts. Satoru sniffed the air, nose crinkling, brow furrowing. 

“Wait a minute, is that… is that you?”

“I got a new perfume,” you said. “Like it?”

“It smells… okay,” he offered.

“Wow, okay. I thought you liked vanilla,” you muttered.

“I do! Just… not this kind.”

“There’s different kinds of vanilla now?”

Satoru winced. “No… there's something... you just… never mind.”

You had turned yourself into everything he wanted, and yet he still pushed you away.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you didn’t have a place in his life at all anymore.

“Are we friends, Satoru?” The clatter of dishes echoed in the background as Satoru jerked his head towards you, lips quirking.

“I just paid for your ice cream, as I have for the last three weeks. Is this your way of thanking me?”  Satoru pressed a strawberry between his lips, mumbling around it, “And yeah. I think we’ve been friends for life.

“It just seems like we don’t really know each other anymore,” you admitted, words lodging in your throat. “I don’t… recognize you.”

“Like you said, people change.” Satoru grinned at you. “But I’m willing to start over. Hi. I’m Satoru Gojo. And you are?”

It started with the little things. Him remembering your favorite flower from childhood and finding out that you developed an allergy to it the hard way. Him bringing over your favorite childhood dessert before you wrinkled your nose and shook your head, informing him that you now preferred spicy to sweet.

It worked the same way back. You offered him a potted plant to add to his collection and realized that he hadn’t tended a garden in years. You displayed a painting of blue skies only for him to tell you that his favorite color was actually purple.

But it clicked when he brought over a video game. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a worn copy of Digimon World, ripe with memories of when it first came out and the save files trailed down to your toes as you locked yourselves in your room.

“We grinded the shit out of this game,” he chuckled, tossing you a grin as you plugged in the old game system to try and turn it back on. To relive the past. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember,” you replied.

Your eyes locked across the room, swimming. Too intimate.

You averted your gaze. Satoru coughed into his fist.

But you were soon hip-to-hip with him on the couch, pointing out Digimons that vividly flashed in your mind, battles that were suddenly harder than before, screeching into his ear when another life cracked before your eyes.

Satoru was laughing. Head thrown back, legs strewn across yours on the table. Your mother stepped into the room and closed the door, and you caught the relief written on her face, because it was etched across yours.

“You really think you can beat me?” he asked, voice low, almost lazy—except it wasn’t. Not really. "Finish this fight before I can?"

The controller clicked in his grip, a quiet warning.

From his other side, you bit the inside of your cheek, then flashed the kind of smile that had gotten you into trouble more than once.

“I don’t need to beat you,” you murmured, “I just need to distract you.”

The game’s countdown timer ticked mercilessly.

Satoru’s eyes didn’t move from the screen, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Is that your strategy? Seduction as sabotage?”

“Worked last time.”

Satoru scoffed. “You tripped over your own foot and blamed it on me blinking.”

You leaned closer, breath warm against his neck. “You do have a powerful blink.”

“Uhm…” Satoru flushed and you relented, pulling away.

“I still don’t know why we bought this instead of Pokemon,” you sighed, slumping back into the cushions. “People don’t even know Digimon exists.”

“How dare you slander my favorite video game?” he gasped, splaying a hand onto his forehead dramatically, spreading his fingers to hide the tint of his cheeks.

“You say that like you have any other interests worth slandering about.”

Satoru frowned, turning to face you. “Why wouldn’t I? You think all I care about is getting laid? Tsk, tsk, you misjudge me.”

“I don’t know, once you’re a ‘cool kid’ you aren’t allowed to like anything original anymore.” You forced your eyes back down to your palms, folded in your lap. “Anything real.”

“I like plenty of things that are real,” he said softly before clearing his throat and continuing, “like daifuku. And tourism. Kyoto has really good street food stalls.”

The corners of your lips twitched. “You’re still such a geek.”

“Why…” Satoru paused, switching the game off. “Why did you start… I don’t know. Acting differently? You dressed strange and then wore new perfumes and tried different makeup and call me entitled but I can’t help but think it has something to do with—”

“Woah, slow down, Mr. Self-Important.” You held up a hand. “The world does not revolve around you. I can do those things just because I want to.”

“You can,” he persisted, “but you didn’t. You changed yourself… for me?”

You faltered. Was it really right to keep lying to him? Lying to yourself?

But you had just fixed things. Satoru was finally your friend again.

He couldn’t find out. He would leave you again. And then there would be no one to spark that warmth inside you, blooming across your body and leaving you tingling. There would be no one to be real with anymore. There would only be the facade you put up with your friends.

The words twisted in your mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get your head out of your ass, Satoru.”

Once upon a time, girls used to talk shit about Satoru Gojo. You were never one of them, of course, but they would huddle around you and hiss over his unkempt hair or the doodles in the margins of his notebooks—everything that made him adorable and sweet and you never quite understood why they hated that about him.

Now they draped themselves across his lap while he sported an uninterested, bored look, flicking them away as if they were moths drawn to a bright flame. In a way, that was really the best way to explain his soul. An undying flame.

But there was a light that flickered brighter in his eyes when he saw you.

“You made it.” Satoru’s voice was pitched cautiously, soft and casual.

“Yeah. Mom kicked me out of the house.”

“Well, drinks are on me, so… knock yourself out.” He waved a dismissive hand and offered a mixture of something in a red plastic cup—the staple for college student parties. You tossed it back and recoiled at the sweet, then sour, then bitter, then somehow spicy drink.

“Never do that again,” you seethed while he keened over in laughter, drawing looks from everyone around you. And for the first time in a while, you didn’t mind the attention. You didn’t mind the looks, because Satoru was there to deflect everything off of you.

The party blared in the same way it did the night you caught your boyfriend wrapped around another woman. But it was okay because Satoru was there, and he looked pretty wrapped in the pink lights and flushed with how close you were getting.

“I think you had a little too much to drink,” he reasoned, but you backed him further up, hand reaching out to graze his collarbone underneath his shirt.

“On the contrary,” you mused, chuckling to yourself. “I haven’t had enough.”

The lights were dim enough for nobody to notice you staring up at him, eyes wide and pleading and you didn’t know what to do because he was so close and smelled just like home and all the good places of your childhood.

“I miss your glasses,” you blurted out, words slurring. The world spun around you, everything except for his frame against the wall and your palm on his chest. “I liked them.”

“I… I wear contacts now,” he whispered, words shaking like his hands.

“Your glasses made you cute,” you giggled, “but you’re still pretty cute. You’ve always been cute, you know that Toru?”

Satoru was nearly under your fingers. You could feel the searing heat of his skin as you took a small step forward, face tilted, close enough that if he were to lean in—

His fingers caught your wrist and pinned them against your chest.

“No.” His voice was small, quiet. “Not like this.”

And you missed the point. All you understood was that he didn’t want you.

Rejection stung like a bitch, especially when it was misunderstood.

You sulked in your room for the next few days after recovering from the pounding in your head. At least it would be over soon, and the campus would let you back in and your dorm wouldn’t remind you of him and you could just forget about it when a guy reeled you in for a kiss.

But of course your mother couldn’t let you be. When you tried to mope in darkness, she opened the window and shoved the curtains and flicked the blinds. When you tried to brood away from people, she invited the entire world over.

Which included Satoru. For her annual New Year’s eve party.

He had always shown up there. It was more of a family thing than a friend thing. Shoko whispered rushed apologies for not being able to make it before hanging up the phone. You caught a sultry voice purring to her in the background.

Even your best friend was getting more action than you. 

Times were truly at their darkest. And so instead of embracing the new you, you decided to mourn the old ones. You put on the yellow sundress of your childhood and mixed your old perfume with water and spritzed whatever was left of the vanilla scent onto your neck, your wrists and anywhere new love threatened to creep in.

If Satoru wouldn’t willingly leave your mind, you would force him out of it.

After all, he didn’t want you, right? There had to be another explanation as to why he never took his eyes off of you. Jaw slack when you descended down the staircase, accepting a kiss from your father and a hug from your mother, compliments raining down on you like a fresh batch of flowers. Ones that you weren’t allergic to, of course.

Satoru gripped you tightly, arms wrapping around your waist before pulling back.

“You… you look…”

“Look...?” I know what I look like. A pathetic bitch longing for your attention.

“You look like yourself,” he finished, eyes gentle. “Like the real you.”

You didn’t know where along the line you lost yourself in the hues of fake you and real you. You weren’t even sure you could tell a difference, so how could he?

After not knowing you, after not caring and not loving you as much as you loved him?

Satoru Gojo had absolutely no right to say that.

“You don’t know the real me,” you mumbled in the shell of his ear. “Not anymore. So don’t pretend like you do, Satoru.”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed with hurt. There was a sickening feeling in your gut coiling, feeding off of the betrayed look on his face, like a kicked puppy. You shouldn’t have been enjoying it that much, but you were.

But as much as you were, you also felt guilty. It pooled in the back of your mind like a radioactive sludge pile that slowly corrupted and consumed your thoughts. Satoru fluttered around you like a lost butterfly, trying to catch your attention and failing.

Suited him right. After all those years of being in the spotlight, he would finally understand what it was like not to be seen. To love so hard and never be acknowledged for it. Not that he loved you. He just wanted your attention and company when it benefitted him.

It wasn’t about affection, not the kind you could measure in soft words or lingering glances. No, this was something twitchy and unsorted, like a mismatched puzzle of flesh and impulse. You could hear when his breath stuttered. Every accidental touch left him short-circuited for a second too long. It was all the little things you had grown used to catching almost instantly around him.

Just like how you knew it was him that followed out outside onto the front porch, to the edge of the street. Footsteps insistent to the drumming of your heart.

“Why do you do this to me?” you whispered. "Why can you never just... let me be?"

“You’re the one that does things,” he whispered, voice warm and low, brushing against your skin like velvet in the dark. “You drive me insane.”

Then—finally, maddeningly—he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful. It was the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt, no space for oxygen. The kind that came from nights of stolen glances, the hush behind arguments, and all the unresolved tension packed into one unbearable moment. 

Satoru’s hand slid behind your neck, anchoring you to the heat of him, while your fingers clutched at the back of his shirt, afraid to let go of the moment.

Afraid to let go of him.

He pulled back, eyes searching, voice ragged. “Tell me to stop,” he said. “You need to tell me to stop.”

“Keep going,” you said instead, finally listening to that inner voice that caved with not the polished version of you now, or the person he’d become after all those years, but the furious press of his lips against yours.

Because everything you ever did was for him. But you kissed him for you.

It was messy and raw and too tender to be anything new. It was scraped knees and secret treehouses, late-night talks and all the unsaid things that followed you into adulthood like ghosts.

Satoru tasted like cinnamon gum and stubbornness, like the boy who used to make you laugh until you cried and the man who now kissed you like he regretted every moment you’d been strangers.

When he pulled away for the second time, he was still close. Too close. The heat of your bodies lingered like static in the air. He rubbed the back of his neck, voice calm and cool but the flush of his cheeks betrayed him.

“I, uh… wasn’t planning to kiss you tonight,” he admitted. “Actually, I wasn't planning on doing anything near you except maybe pretending that you didn’t exist.”

You gave a breathless laugh. “That didn’t go very well.”

“No. Definitely not.” His eyes found yours again, softer this time. Familiar. “But I don’t think I want to keep pretending.”

"What are you trying to say, Satoru Gojo?" you mused.

Satoru paused, swallowed hard like the words were heavier than they looked.

“So… I guess... want to go out with me sometime?” His voice cracked slightly at the end. “I mean, not as strangers. As… whatever this is. Cause I’ve loved you since the day we became friends and you put a flower in my hair and called me your best friend in front of the world. And you weren't ashamed of me like everyone else.”

Your heart thudded. You weren’t seventeen anymore, and this wasn’t a silly crush on the boy who used to steal your fries. But it felt like that.

His girlfriend. The one you never knew. The one that stole him away

The words choked out of you before you could stop them. And you weren’t quite sure you wanted to stop them anyways.

“Wait—oh my god… you have a girlfriend. What the fuck, Satoru?” You stepped back, away from the future that shattered in his eyes. “We can’t do this.”

“I’m not with her,” he blurted out, pressing forward, the warmth of his body achingly close and yet so distant from you. “I only ever loved you Only ever wanted you.”

“Then why…” you whispered, glassy-eyed, “why get a girlfriend?”

Silence.

Satoru opened his mouth, but no words came. His brows knitted, jaw clenched—like if he stared at the grass hard enough, it would answer for him.

You took a shaky breath, arms wrapping around yourself like armor. “Was she just easier? Not an embarrassment to you? To your friends? God, I can’t believe I let you do that—”

“I didn’t even know you,” he said softly, cutting into your descending thoughts. “I didn’t know if you even liked me, even just as a friend...”

“How can you love someone you don’t know? But I shouldn’t be saying anything on that, since I was stupid enough to never stop loving you, Satoru,” you said. “I just didn’t think you’d leave me behind so easily.”

Satoru’s face crumpled, and he reached for you—but you stumbled back.

“Don’t,” you said, heart heavy. “Not if you’re still hers. Not if you can’t accept that this is who we are now. Not if you can’t stop being a person you’re not. You don’t get to kiss me and tell me I was always the one. Not when everyone else got you first.”

And for a long moment, your heart is lighter than before. Because now he knew the problem. You just hoped he was willing to fix it for you.

Because love wasn’t just memory. It was a choice.

And he chose to do the right thing. Satoru started showing up.

The girl called his phone at least three times a day and he ignored it every single time. Eventually he blocked her, muttering something about new numbers and annoying bitches.

“She was just a fling anyways,” he replied to your frown. “I told her it could end at any time. I have women just throwing themselves at me, you know.”

“Sure,” you replied. "They throw themselves at the honored one, Satoru Gojo."

“What did you think was happening that night?” he mused suddenly. “The one where you walked in on us and I—”

“Spare me the details,” you hissed, shoving the tip of your ice cream cone into his knee. Satoru yelped and rubbed the spot, glaring at you.

“She asked me to take her virginity. Said it was better if the 'cool hot guy' did it.” Satoru sucked in a sharp breath. “I really did change, didn’t I? Not even for the better. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror now. I just think, 'who is that guy?'”

“I didn't recognize myself either,” you agreed. “But nobody ever stays the same. Not really. I never thought you would be the fuckboy in the relationship.”

“What, you wanted to be the slut?” Satoru smirked.

“You pushed me away at that party, remember?” You dragged a hand down your face, grimacing at the memory. “God, I get so senseless when I’m drunk.”

“It was kinda… hot?” Satoru chuckled, eyes drifting back up. “But I didn’t want our first kiss to be there. It was sweaty and crowded and I didn’t want anyone to see you all over me.”

“You make it sound weird. I was not all over you.”

“No, you were. It sounds weird because... because it is weird to want to be… likeable. Especially when it forces you into someone that you aren’t. Into losing yourself. It’s still addicting. External validation. Being accepted into societal standards.”

“I think you might have a praise kink. Just maybe.”

“Want to find out?”

“Ew. Get away from me. But good on you for realizing that. Watching you at all those parties gave me the ick.” You shuddered, eliciting a smile from him.

“You were watching me?” Satoru looped his arm around your shoulder, nose pressing against your neck. “I knew you could never take your eyes off me.”

“You hype yourself up too much,” you retorted, batting him away. Satoru dodged the blow and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Nah. I just do it for you."

That quiet boy you knew would never come back. And somehow, instead of mourning him, you were praising the louder aspects of him, like his heart was beating outside of his chest and his blood ran in rivers atop his skin, crimson and dripping with the grip of his hands around your thighs, eyes low and feverish and exhilarating.

For all the complaining you did about him being loud, you didn’t quite mind it now.

Slowly, hesitantly, Satoru reached out to cup your face in his hands, thumbs brushing over their cheeks. His palms were sweaty but warm and familiar, musky and real. He was really beneath you, eyes lilting and lips parted as he shifted.

“Please, baby, you’re killing me,” he mumbled, peering up at you with all the adoration and attention and love in the world. You grinned back down at him.

“I might need a little more convincing than that,” you replied.

His hands slid down back to your waist, gripping their hips tightly as he pulled your lower bodies flush together. Satoru rolled his hips forward, letting you feel the hard, thick line of his cock straining against his jeans.

"Does this convince you?” he whispered, whimpers slipping past his words. “That I’ve wanted you for so long I can’t even think straight anymore?” Satoru absently pressed kisses to your neck, trailing your jawline, mouth hot and words hotter. He nipped at your bottom lip, teeth tugging sharply before soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Ha… you—you’ll have to try a little harder than that,” you replied in the shell of his ear, breath ghosting across his skin, washing over him. A dark, hungry grin spread across his face as he pulled back just enough to look you in the eye.

“You… you think this is a game?” The tip of his tongue darted along his lips.

“Well, maybe,” you ribbed, “and you’re definitely losing.”

You had never seen that look in his eyes before. Wild, feral, drinking in the sight of you splayed out beneath him.

“Fuck, you look good like this,” he mumured, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, sucking the sensitive flesh just above your collarbone. “Fucking perfect.”

Satoru’s palm skimmed over the dip of your waist, the flare of your hip, gripping you tight, almost bruisingly. After doing everything for him, it was addicting to watch him melt underneath you, to do something all for you. Just you.

You flicked his hand away, curling your fingers on his shoulder and leaning forward, intentionally rocking your hips a little harder, a little faster, a little lower.

A choked moan rang in your ears as his body arched into yours, hands clawing at your clothed back, head falling onto your shoulder, hair tickling your neck. It was everything and nothing all at once. Euphoria injected into your veins.

“God…” he breathed, unsteady, fingers trembling, “you're driving me crazy... I can't think straight…”

“You’re acting like a girl’s never touched you before, Toru,” you teased, leaning even closer. “Am I your first?”

Satoru’s pupils were dilated when you grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you, eyes wide, wet and leaking.

“I didn’t hear an answer, baby. I asked you a question.”

“You’ll be my first and my last, sweet,” he whispered back. “Please. I can’t… I’ve already waited for so, so long. I’ll give you everything, just, please, fuck—”

You pressed your finger to his lips, dragging down. Sultry wasn’t a word to describe you, but something about the way his voice cracked, pleading, needy, whining, all underneath your touch?

You would become anything he wanted.

“I heard you like the bad girls, honey, is that true?”

Satoru flashed a shaky smile.

“Only if they’re you.”

a/n: genuinely so proud of this one it's my favorite work to date! there's something about silently pining and yearning that's... yk... actually silent and it's not just hopeless oblivion that has me down on my knees (just like satoru) WHAT

likes and comments always appreciated! love you <3

[yearninflowers]

Congrats for the 100 followers 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

For the event can u draw domestic Aventurine plz, like, cuddling with his s/o, playing with his catcakes, doing skincare 'n stuff... 🤭

Hi~ thank you for the request and sorry for the slow order, life is getting a little busier (/o＼) in any case, hope you like this one <3

100 followers event !

[sukunahs]

west coast | ryomen sukuna

down on the west coast I get this feeling like it all could happen

pairing: actor!ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

summary: moving to hollywood was meant to bring you fame and fortune, but after dozens of failed auditions and six months working as a waitress, you can't help but wonder if sleeping with the movie star who frequents your diner might be the fastest way to the top.

word count: 3.1k

content: 18+ mdni, smut, slight dub-con because sukuna holds all the power here, coercion, imbalanced power dynamic, age-gap, piv, blow jobs, being filmed while having sex, degradation, manipulation, spitting, choking, he puts out a cigarette on you at one point, he is very unpleasant in this ngl

a/n: written for the @nanamisbbygirl 2k follower collab event based on the song west coast by lana del rey! go check out the other ldr inspired fics in the collab here!!

It was always late at night that he’d come by. Face filled with tattoos and piercings, leather jacket draped over his shoulders, sunglasses that did a poor job of concealing his identity because why would anyone wear sunglasses inside if they weren’t someone of note trying to hide who they were. 

Generally when he’d step through the door of the run-down diner he’d have a lit cigarette between his lips, and despite you telling him each time that he couldn’t smoke inside he’d always just laugh and blow smoke into your face, asking what you were going to do about it, before taking his usual seat at the end of the counter. 

He always ordered the same thing - a cup of black coffee and a plate of bacon and eggs, an odd order considering how late in the evening it was, but you never questioned it. Always bringing him what he wanted as quickly as you could, which wasn’t hard because the diner was almost always dead whenever he was around. 

You weren’t even sure why he would come here. This wasn’t a nice place and he could certainly afford better. Perhaps he just liked the anonymity of it, he wasn’t someone who particularly played nice with the media after all. 

As you’d hand him his order he’d flash you a smile that was all teeth, thanking you and always making sure to call you sweetheart, drawling out the word in that deep, husky tone of his as he shamelessly checked you out. 

You should feel uncomfortable, should feel scared to be alone with this man who was twice your size and, if rumors were to be believed, had a long history of violence and criminal charges surrounding him. 

Ryomen Sukuna. You’d known him long before you’d moved out to California in pursuit of fame. You supposed he’d be classed as an action star, but most of the time he played heinous villains in movies. Many people questioned how much he was acting though, considering that he seemed to behave as a villain in real life. 

His reputation was terrible, easily one of the most infamous men in Hollywood at this point. He’d been arrested for drug related crimes on numerous occasions, had a volatile temperament, was a womaniser who treated the women he slept with like shit, and one time he’d gotten so pissed off at another actor he was working with that he beat them hard enough to put them in hospital.

By all accounts, he was not a nice man. 

But he kept getting parts, because of that. There was no one better to play a cruel, heartless villain than him. 

You envied him. You had to fight tooth and nail to even attend auditions, the most success you’d had since moving out here to pursue your dream had been a supporting role in a toothpaste ad. It was pathetic. He could do whatever he wanted and still get hired, but even your best wasn’t enough for you to get a foot in the door. 

If you couldn’t land a part soon you weren’t sure that you could even continue to live out here. Rent was so expensive, and your job at the diner paid next to nothing. The thought of moving back to your home town after convincing everyone that you were going to strike it big was humiliating. You couldn’t fail, success meant everything. 

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?” Sukuna’s raspy voice sounded from across the counter. He was looking up at you with those intense red eyes, his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head at the realisation that no one else was in the diner. Just you. 

You eyed him cautiously. He’d been trying to make conversation with you a lot recently and for the most part you’d politely shut it down. If his rumored treatment of women was anything to go by, he was not a man that you should be having anything to do with. Not to mention he was around fifteen years older than you, already into his late thirties, and you didn’t want to be the type of girl who slept around with older men. 

Unfortunately that didn’t stop the flutter of your heart whenever he smirked at you, the pulsing ache between your thighs whenever he gazed at you like he was imagining how you’d look naked beneath him. But you weren’t going to listen to your traitorous body, he was bad news. You knew that. 

“Not much.” You said dismissively as you started to wipe at the counter, pretending to be busy to deter him from further conversation. Unsurprisingly it didn’t work. 

“Aw come on.” He purred, leaning forward a bit on the counter. “I can practically hear you worrying, how about you tell me what’s going on? I’m a good listener.” 

You bit your lip, swayed by the sincerity in his tone. “Just money troubles. This place doesn’t exactly pay well.” You said, hoping that would be enough to satiate him. 

“Yeah? Someone pretty like you shouldn’t be working in this shithole.” You tried to brush aside the butterflies in your stomach at his words.

“The casting directors of Hollywood don’t seem to agree with you.” You said bitterly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve had over one-hundred failed auditions at this point.” 

“Oh, you wanna be an actress?” He asked, and the way that he said it made you shiver, as if your statement had thoroughly piqued his interest. 

“Yeah. It's the only reason I’m out here.” 

If you were being honest with yourself, you sort of hated living in California. It was too hot, too busy, too expensive. Not to mention the traffic sucked, it took a ridiculous amount of time to get anywhere. If you were famous it would be different, because you’d be living a life of glamour - but this place sucked if you were poor. 

“Mmmm, getting parts is all about who you know, talent alone doesn’t really mean much.” He said simply. 

You knew that already. The problem was you didn’t know anyone. 

“I think I can help you out though.” He continued, and you looked up at him in surprise, scanning his face for any hint of deceit. He was looking at you evenly, not giving anything away as his eyes met yours.

“Why…why would you do that?” You asked cautiously, the many rumors surrounding his reputation swirling in your head. 

He gave you a reassuring smile. “Do you think I’ve been coming back here every night because I like the shitty coffee? I’ve been coming here because of the pretty waitress who hands it to me.” 

Your heart was pounding, the sound of blood rushing in your ears as you tried to take in that statement. You should say no. There was no way that all the allegations about him were false, you believed the women that he’d made cry, those who’d said that he’d broken them down until they felt like they were nothing. 

But this offer was too good to refuse. You’d come out here to be a star, and you were going to make it happen. 

“Oh, thank you...” You said graciously and his smirk widened, sharp canines visible as he did so. 

“I’d have to audition you of course. You’re pretty but I need to make sure you can act before I start recommending you to people.” 

That made sense, it would be embarrassing for him if he put your name forward for something only for you to be a terrible actress. He needed to know that you were actually worth his time. 

“How about you come over to my place tomorrow night.” He continued. “You can have your opportunity and then we can discuss next steps.” 

There was something about the way he spoke that had alarm bells ringing for you. Like you were walking into a trap. The idea of being alone in his house was daunting, especially given his track record. 

“I don’t know…” You mumbled, voicing your inner conflict. 

“Come on sweetheart, I’m giving you a real chance here. You don’t want to be stuck working in this place forever, do you?” He sounded a little irritated with your reluctance. 

He was right. You’d be stupid to turn down this opportunity even if you were feeling uncertain about it all. If you wanted to be famous you needed to grab any chance available to you and run with it. Things weren’t just going to fall into your lap. 

You needed to be bold, to take what you wanted from the world when it was offered. You were in no position to be picky. 

“No…I don’t want to get stuck here.” You confessed softly, giving in. “Do I need to learn a script before, or..?” 

He shook his head, a satisfied grin on his face. “Nah, just bring yourself. Make sure you wear something pretty though, treat this like a real audition.” He grabbed a napkin, scribbling down his address and phone number before handing it to you. “Come over at 8, sweetheart. Make sure you’re on time.” 

—

It was around 8.30pm the next day that you realised that you might have fucked up by involving yourself with him. 

You shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have trusted this man for a second, should’ve kept slaving away as a waitress until you got through an audition the fair way. Because if you’d considered the warnings of other women for just a moment you wouldn’t be in the situation that you were in right now. 

Just like the naive little star-struck fool that you were, you’d shown up to his Malibu beach house the next day, ringing the buzzer at 8pm sharp wearing your shortest mini-skirt, making sure that you looked pretty just like he’d asked. 

The outfit request alone had been a red flag, one that you’d brushed aside with your mind too focussed on the potential pay-off from your meeting with him. If dressing up a little bit slutty for a famous movie star was all it took for you to get a shot at stardom that certainly wasn’t a bad trade off. 

But now you felt stupid. Because wearing your prettiest outfit wasn’t all that it would take - you should’ve known that really. Should’ve known that he didn’t really want to audition you, couldn’t actually care less about your acting skills or what happened to you at all. All he wanted was to get you alone in his house. 

And you came to him like a moth to a flame. Just like all the girls before you, and undoubtedly many girls after. 

He had you on your knees, your lips wrapped around his massive cock as you tried your best to give him a blow job that would satisfy him. But he was not an easy man to please, spitting insults at you as you struggled to take all of his length, calling you a pathetic fame-seeking whore as he pulled your hair, forcing himself further down your throat. 

This had been your choice. 

He’d told you honestly that the only way you were getting any sort of recommendation from him was if you fucked him, that sex was your only way to the top. And at this point you were desperate, what were you going to do? Say no to an opportunity like that? 

It was the closest you’d ever been to success since moving out here.

So you did your best to appease him, giving head like you never had before to try and impress him, pretending that it didn’t bother you as he spat on your face and called you pathetic, trying your best not to cry as he pulled his lit cigarette from his lips and put it out on the bare skin of your shoulder, no doubt marking you for the foreseeable future. 

But it didn’t matter, because he was going to make you famous, and that meant that all of this would be worth it in the end. 

You’d be a star. 

You swallowed his load when he came in your mouth without warning, employed your acting skills to pretend that the texture and salty taste didn’t make you want to throw up. Stuck out your tongue for him to prove that it was all gone, barely flinching as he spat into your open mouth and made you swallow that too. 

Because one day this would just be a footnote in your story, something that you went through to get absolutely everything that you’d ever wanted. Even if right now you felt disgusted with yourself. This wasn’t how you wanted to get your fame, you’d wanted to do things the honest way. But Hollywood wasn’t fair, so if sex was the only way up you’d take it.

When you’d first arrived at Sukuna’s home earlier that evening he’d kept up the pretense that you were here to audition, had made you do a little scene only to tell you that you were a shitty actress. He’d thoroughly broken you down, destroying your self esteem and making you feel like you were worth nothing. And about ten seconds after he’d crushed your hopes and dreams to dust he propositioned you for sex. 

According to him you’d never get anywhere on talent, the words ‘no one will ever hire you in this town unless you fuck your way to the top’ had cut through you like a knife, embedding itself in your brain. He’d told you that you were worthless, that girls like you were a dime a dozen. Keeping him entertained for a while was the most you could do if you wanted to get anywhere in life. 

And that’s why you were compliantly giving him everything he wanted, why you wouldn’t turn him down or tell him to stop. Being his whore was the best way forward if you wanted to secure your future. You were reaching out and taking everything you’ve ever wanted, even if it was degrading. 

Though a hint of doubt started to creep into your mind as he bent you over his dining table, pulling out a camcorder and holding in front of your face as he fucked you from behind. 

You’d begged him to put the camera away, knowing that what you were doing was shameful, not wanting your legacy to be the fact that you’d exchanged sex for success. But he’d simply laughed, holding the camcorder just out of your reach. 

“What? Didn’t you want to be a movie-star?” He’d mocked as you'd tried to rip the camera from his hands. You’d given up trying to fight it after that. You’d hoped that his words were just him threatening you to comply else he wouldn’t recommend you to his hollywood buddies, trying to push away the distant voice that worried he was going to make you a ‘star’ by publishing this video instead. 

That wasn’t the kind of fame you wanted. 

But any viewers of his little video probably wouldn’t realise that, not from the way that he had you moaning and whimpering as he split you apart on his cock, thrusting into you so deep that he was hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. You could see your fucked out expression on the camcorder’s tiny screen, and as humiliating as it was to see your face filled with pleasure, there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

You probably looked like even more of a whore when he placed the camera down on the table in front of you, giving him free use of both his hands, wrapping one firmly around your neck and choking you, whilst the other smacked your ass over and over again until it was bright red and burning. Drool dripping from your mouth at the sensation. 

Both of you knew that you weren’t hating it as much as you should’ve, because with each swift spank and the ever increasing pressure of his fingers cutting off blood flow to your brain, you could feel your pussy tightening around his cock, that sick feeling of pleasure and desire for release building up in your gut. 

No one had ever fucked you like this before. It was horrible - disgusting even, the callous way that he was treating you. You felt like you’d been broken down to nothing, truly degraded, just a sex object for him to use. And yet, you felt euphoric. It was a humiliating realisation. 

Coming undone on his cock in front of that camera felt like nothing you’d ever experienced before, your whole body shaking with the intensity, your eyes rolling back from the sheer pleasure of it all. Your mind didn’t even register his cruel laughter at what a pathetic little whore you were, barely able to resist as he pulled you forcefully back by your hair and spat in your mouth once more. Everything felt too good. 

Humiliating, but still good. 

You should’ve tried to stop him as he released inside you without a condom. You’d asked him to wear one but he’d told you in very unkind terms that wasn’t his thing, that he only ever fucked bareback and you’d have to deal with it. But who were you kidding, at this point you weren’t going to stop him from doing anything. 

Not if it would make you a star. 

Even when you’d thought he was done, that cumming inside you would signal the end of this sick little encounter, it turned out that he had an ungodly amount of stamina. He spent the rest of the evening fucking you, taking you in every position he could think off, all captured on that camcorder of his. 

Doing everything that he could to make sure you were thoroughly ruined. 

He called you names, spat on you, made you suck cum off his fingers - did just about every degrading thing in the book and you enjoyed it. It got to the point where the only thing you could think of was him. How you weren’t sure about how you could go on with your normal life without more of this - without more of him. 

And at the end of the night, when he was standing out on the balcony bouncing you on his cock in the dark, visible to anyone taking a midnight stroll on the beach, all you could do was let out pretty little moans and cling to his biceps, your mind dull with pleasure and need. 

You could barely even remember your own name, let alone what you’d come here for, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d lost yourself somewhere along the way. Broken apart just like all the other girls who had the misfortune of crossing his path. 

No, no, you weren’t like them, you were different. 

You were going to be a star!

a/n: hope you enjoyed!! up to you guys to decide whether sukuna will actually follow through with his promise or if reader is just deluded lol

© sukunahs

[deardaichi]

for @shookykookie30 | event masterpost

the rain starts sometime before you wake up — soft at first, then steady, tapping slow against the windows and pooling in quiet streaks down the glass. you don’t need to check the forecast. the sound is enough. and the arm slung over your waist, warm and loose, confirms it: suna's not getting up today.

you shift slightly, and he grumbles something unintelligible into the pillow, dragging you back into his chest.

“movie day,” he mumbles, voice still heavy with sleep.

you smile into the blanket. “figured.”

it’s his favorite thing to do when it rains — stay buried in bed with you, blankets tangled around your legs, the tv across from the foot of the bed already playing something he added to the watchlist weeks ago “for a rainy day.” he claims it’s about the comfort, the atmosphere, the soft lighting. but really, it’s about not having to move. and you. mostly you.

you eventually wriggle free just long enough to grab snacks and water. he lets you go, barely, and pulls you right back in as soon as you return.

sometime around the second movie, you glance toward the kitchen and remember the jar of honey you haven’t opened yet. “you want tea?” you ask, already stretching to get up again.

“only if it’s the kind you made last time,” he says without opening his eyes. “the honey lemon one.”

“the one you had when you got a cold?”

“yeah, it tasted nice. and you looked cute in my hoodie.”

you toss a pillow at him. he catches it. doesn’t let go of your hand.

you never do get around to making the tea — not that he minds. he just tucks his face into your shoulder and keeps watching, fingers curling into yours like the movie doesn’t matter half as much as being here, warm and close, with the rain still tapping gently outside.

© deardaichi | everything here is written with care — please don’t repost, copy, or alter my work without permission.