elsecrytt

[elsecrytt]

you said you dont post on this account allot anymore but do you post anywhere else , i love your writing and character break downs like todo loves takada

i do post somewhere else, anon, if you do ever see this ask! it's another account but i'd rather not say bc i write some pretty wild kinks on there.

like on this account, i was kinda scared when i originally posted some dubcon - i don't know if i ever posted any straight up noncon - but on my alt account i started out as a freak from the beginning, so i didn't worry about freaking out people who followed me for more normal stuff.

i do love you too, though, anon, you're really sweet. i am basically completely inactive on this account these days because the stuff i posted on here just didn't get much interaction, so it means a lot to me that you like my stuff. i really liked a lot of the jjk fics i posted on here!

if you really want to know, you can dm me off anon and i'll tell you, but it's not something i advertise. depending on what tags you like to go through in the jjk fandom, you may have run into me anyways (:

[elsecrytt]

Hey elsey!!! How have you been?

i certainly have been, that is for sure!

honestly i'm pretty much fine. i've been doing well but i just don't post on this account so much anymore. not a lot of engagement. a lot of my followers on here are from obey me and i'm super into jjk these days so it's to be expected.

don't worry though, i've found writer buddies who are also into jjk so i'm having a good time. i'm still writing, too!

hope you're doing well!

[elsecrytt]

hello elsey,

How do you pronounce the name of your blog? Because I'd been going with

el-see-critt (like el-secret) kind of pronunciation.

Is it elsey-CRY-tt as in cry with tears?

How do you say it?

it doesn't really matter either way, but!

elsey is said else-ee,,, it's from the regular word "else", as in "for else", or the character "elsa".

for the full name, i've always imagined it would be "else-crytt". so "else", like the word, and then "crytt" (which basically sounds like "crypt" but without the p).

i really do like the name though! it was fun when i came up with it, so i used it in a few different places (ao3, tumblr, etc.).

[elsecrytt]

hiii elsey, i know it's been a long time, but may i use your old dead dove bingo as inspiration for my new wip? this one! if yes, can i know how to credit you?

it truly has been forever since i've interacted with obey me stuff skfjhlshdg and the bingo card is super old too. i'm not sure if anyone ever ended up doing it,,, i always get way too ambitious with this stuff

anyways! if you want to use it, just go for it! you don't need to credit me, the bingo card was never really much of a thing. i actually got a lot of the prompts on there from here: https://yandere-sins.tumblr.com/post/694096805536890880/sintember-2022-prompts

i hope you have fun!!! obey me is getting a little bit of a second wind with recent events and i'm happy for you guys <3

[elsecrytt]

toru in your fic

It's one banana, y/n, how much could it cost? 10 dollars?

NO RIGHT??? RIGHT?? RIGHT???

That's exactly what I was going for. You're like. "Satoru what do you think groceries cost? How much is a banana, Satoru? You think they grow on trees? You think I can just slap down $10 at the grocery store and get a banana? Insanity. $500 per hit and you expect me to pay rent with that?"

Satoru is so fucking out of touch and you are MILKING IT as you should sdkfhgldhgf

[elsecrytt]

so things have been better at work lately.

after satoru gojo spends several hours on his knees, tears in his eyes, begging you to slap him in the face a second time, you're feeling confident that you're not going to lose your job.

you're also feeling better after your rent situation. satoru had finally convinced you to slap him again with a big, fat, thousand dollar bonus added on for each instance of physical contact.

you're kind of proud of how you pulled that one off.

"a hundred dollars? am i a joke to you?"

"what do you mean, five hundred per slap? i told you, my rent went up!"

"i still have other bills, satoru. what do you think groceries cost these days? how much is a banana, satoru? how much?"

considering all he ate was takeout and he never kept receipts or even listened to totals, it wasn't that difficult.

on the other hand, it was kind of messed up how drastically your life has changed now that you slapped your boss.

right now, you're cooking another lovingly homemade breakfast meal. french toast, glazed bacon, some picture-perfect omurice (it was pretty fun, trying to get it perfect)!

you enjoy cooking again. it looks so much more tasty knowing you're going to get a bite of it for yourself.

satoru sits, bright and eager, at the beautiful marble table you've laid so many (untouched) meals down on.

you relish how the excitement melts off his face when you set a bowl of cereal in front of him. sitting across to help yourself to your own meal which you cooked.

"hey!" he's quick to protest, of course, but shrivels under the weight of your glare.

"oh, don't be shy, satoru," you say evenly, "i know you don't like my cooking."

there's an awkward silence that follows. oh, sweet vindication.

almost as sweet as finally getting to eat your own cooking. god. you're mad at him all over again. this was awesome.

all those meals you worked so hard on... all that perfectly good food that went straight into the trash out of pure spite... oh, the joy that floods your chest as he looks at you like a kicked puppy.

"please?" he whines, "c'mon, i know i was a jerk! i promise i'll eat it this time!"

"will you?" your eyes narrow as you stand up, watching him tense as his eyes lock onto you.

good.

"on the floor," you say, pointing down. "lay down."

it's telling how quickly he moves to obey. god, you spent so much time catering to this little shit when you should have been telling him what to do.

you kick him in the side, and satoru yelps as your foot lifts up his side. still, he rolls over obediently, grumbling.

"you're so mean," he whines as you press down on his back.

that sends a little trickle of delight through you.

you're mean now, are you?

with him laying on his belly, you grab your half-finished omurice from the table, sitting yourself down on his ass.

and his ass looks a lot better in the jeans than it feels - satoru's a lean guy. but you make it work, straddling him, just enough that you could grind your crotch down against him... if you wanted to.

he groans at it, too, confirming just how hard he is.

you set the plate in front of his face.

"okay, satoru. you want some?" you grab him by the hair, pulling his head up, just on top of the plate, "eat."

another little bitch-moan comes out of his mouth, no doubt a complaint.

you shove his face forward, "i don't want to hear it. eat what's in front of you and be grateful for it."

his hips shift underneath you - the whore is grinding against the floor!

but you see his mouth moving, eating like you told him to.

after a few bites you pull him up, giving him time to swallow before you ask.

"well? how is it?" you can't keep the bitterness out of your voice, "does it belong in the trash?"

there's a warning tone, a frustration that sounds almost like motherly scolding.

it makes satoru about ten times harder.

"no," he simpers, leaning back forwards to take another bite.

like a dog on the leash, you stop him, hand in his hair.

"what do we say?"

satoru bites his lip. his cheeks are hot, flushed. "thank you for the meal~"

you let him back with a huff.

and try as you might to suppress it, there's something that heats your blood, too. something burning inside you at the sight of him eating like a dog, licking the plate clean.

devouring the meal you made for him like he can't get enough.

you tell yourself it's just satisfaction. seeing food not go to waste.

you distinctly ignore the pulse between your legs -

but it gets harder to, when satoru finally finishes his meal, spinning around underneath you.

he makes no attempt to push you off - instead, he pulls you against him closer, so you're straddling his hips.

grinding against his crotch. friction hot and delicious and pulling at something deep inside you.

crystal blue eyes looking up at you, all pretty and pleading.

pawing hands clasping over your thighs.

"please, madam housekeeper," he licks his lips, "may i have some more?"

...

...you're not about to fuck your boss... are you?

[elsecrytt]

you know what i think (no one has asked)? i think whores are underutilized in writing.

i think people aren't being wild and toxic and fucked up enough.

your man is a whore? he's trying to show how he doesn't care by being a playboy?

out-slut him. find the girl he's bought a drink and steal her with a smile, a compliment and some friendly conversation.

you love what she's done with her hair. her hand brushes your shoulder playfully and oh, your nails are soooo pretty~ she talks about her styles with excitement and you fawn over her.

and then, once she's laughing and giggling and hanging off your shoulder?

once she won't spare him a glance and he's glaring at you - ready to find some other woman to prey on?

get up and leave.

of course the poor woman will be disappointed, but hey, he'll cheer her right up, won't he?

that's what your eyes are telling him from across the room. burning into his furious gaze.

now, even if he fucks her, he'll have to face the fact that she wanted you more.

if you can't be his first choice then he's going to be everyone's second choice. you'll make sure of it.

[elsecrytt]

you fucking hate your job.

unfortunately, you also need it.

some old money family hires you to play housekeeper for their weird ass son. satoru gojo, you think.

he's handsome. just looking at him is a treat; stark white hair, bright blue eyes, a face like an actual idol.

and then he opens his mouth. illusion ruined.

whatever. you don't care that much about his "wow! you really didn't dress up for work, huh?" and "so, let me guess... no boyfriend?" you’ve dealt with worse.

you'd been excited when you got this job. you're broke. the pay is great. you're ready to do anything to not get fired.

you keep the apartment completely spotless, despite how many candy wrappers and packages he leaves around, the disaster that is his stupid fancy bathroom. 

seriously, who leaves soap and shampoo everywhere like that? who jerks off in the shower that often? throws towels around and knocks bottles and toothbrushes over? it's like he's trying to leave a mess.

you do his laundry, which he just leaves on the floor like a goddamn animal. there's some clothes with gross, crusty white on them.

one time, you'd caught him staring at you while you picked it up, smirking all the while.

this is the guy you’re being paid to look after. and you’re fucking trying! god, do you ever try!

you cook meals from scratch, hours-long, intensive processes. you check his fridge, shamelessly dig through his garbage to see what he likes and try to make things he'll enjoy.

he leaves empty boxes of takeout on the counter, your homemade dinner in the trash, untouched.

it's in your contract. you can't not cook for him. and you can't eat anything, either, not when you're terrified of getting fired and he obviously likes to make you miserable.

and your landlord just informed you last month - rent will be going up. and not by a small amount.

you'd just finished digging yourself out of one hole and life kicks you right back down.

you don't know how you're going to make rent this month. fuck, you don't even know what you're going to have for dinner. if you can afford dinner. if you can even afford to put the heat on tonight.

it's not even a question. obviously the answer is no.

sitting on the plush, luxury couch in gojo’s apartment, you bury your head in your hands, and cry.

maybe you can get another job? but there's only so many hours in the day. you're so fucking sick of working all the time. you already do.

is it too much to ask for life to cut you a fucking break?

"what's wrong?" your least favorite voice interrupts - and a hand on your shoulder, shaking you, none-too-gently.

"don't tell me..." there's that smugness, "are you cryin'?"

"sorry, i just need a minute." you say, swallowing your anger to look him in the eyes. "i just got some bad news. my landlord is raising the rent next month."

"oh?" his tone is only getting worse, "so what? just move out. or get some roommates, or whatever you poor people do."

god, the fucking mouth on this man.

"soooo? sounds like poor planning on your part," satoru says, casually leaning onto the edge of the couch, "i just don't get why you're crying about it. like, that's kinda pathetic, you know?" he snickers -

SLAP

dead silence. a sting on your hand. satoru's face bent to the side. you don't even regret it. not right now, as angry as you are.

"you-" a rant is just about to spring from your lips, and then -

satoru grabs your hands, pulling them into his, right in front of his face.

his cheeks are dusted red. pretty eyes wide and dilated, fixed on you. mouth twisted in a grin.

you glance down to the front of his pants, where a noticeable bulge has formed.

"do it again."

[elsecrytt]

corruption kink is desperately underutilized with yanderes btw.

the love of a yandere is inherently twisted. it's selfish somehow, or harmful, or restrictive - it may be love but there's a fundamental flaw in how that love can be expressed or where it's coming from.

so if a yandere wants to be loved back, they wouldn't necessarily recognize love as it is normally. it wouldn't feel real to them.

no, they want to be loved the way they know it. they want you to love them how they love you, true love, love without boundaries or restrictions, a love they feel whenever they see you - they want you to feel that when you see them.

yanderes who manipulate you until you learn to manipulate them back. who bend you until they break. who lie until you know what questions to ask to get a lie that tells you what you want to know.

lock you in until you learn to pick it, foil your escape attempts until you start faking attempts just to get them on edge.

control what you say, what you do, until you start acting strangely compliant one day, smiling and amenable and so eager that you have to know how obvious you're being.

or maybe you go dead silent, empty eyes. not a single word for them no matter how they threaten or plead.

they starve you, so when they offer you food you refuse to eat. when they force feed you, things go missing, empty toothpaste or cleaner bottles, anything to make them panic and cause poison control.

they hurt people you care about? you know one (1) person they care about. and you'll hurt that person. you'll make them watch.

if you have no weapons then you will make them. you fill find some way to hurt them back, to take what they want.

it doesn't matter anymore. escape, protection, your future - you'd turn it all down for the chance to make them suffer like you have.

they ruined your fucking life. you couldn't stop them, but you can make them regret it, and you will stop at absolutely nothing to make that happen.

yandere who have no boundaries, no limits. they won't stop until you're just as crazy as they are.

that's what love is, isn't it? it never gives up, never goes unrequited.

yanderes who are not unaffected, indifferent. they care, desperately so, even if their superiority is assured. who want a reaction out of you, any reaction at all.

they relish the dance, and want nothing more than for you to join them in it.

their love isn't constrained by morality or kindness and they don't want you to love them like that, either.

it wouldn't feel real.

after all, if they were normal, they wouldn't crave the sting.

they wouldn't pursue someone who would spit and slap and pull away. the pain of rejection, how you lash out at them, every last agonizing moment of your ill-fated relationship -

if they weren't a little fucked up to begin with, why would they have done any of it at all?

you think you're hating them back, but all they feel is love.

[elsecrytt]

Played Homicipher last night and I'm super normal about it how are you guys doing today

Don't get me wrong Scarletella is a babe and all (his ends are JUICY) but,,, Crawling,,, his endings,, literally everything he does and how he acts,,, AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Especially bc the game is like just. 4-5ish hours or point and click and guessing games and the main draw is trying to understand and interact with the characters. There's so much empty space to fill.

Why were you brought here? Where is here? Why are Crawling and Scarletella so obsessed with you? What do these beings DO during their normal lives? What do they want? What the fuck is up with YOU actually???

There's so much space for fanfics. The fandom doesn't even have its own tag on Ao3 yet but I've found a few... oh my god the urge to write for it...hnnnghh....

[elsecrytt]

Your Heart is Spilling out, Babe

Pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader

Summary: You and Satoru are friends with benefits. No feelings, that was the agreement from the start. Neither of you want anything more. Even if you did, it wouldn’t work out, anyways. Not that you care if it would.

Tags: fwb, smut, angst, YEARNING, requited unrequited feelings (or ARE they) but jk it’s totally no feelings, commitment/abandonment issues, not that it matters because you totally don’t have feelings anyways

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” He asks, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

A hum. “Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

“What a coincidence,” he lays down next to you, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

You don’t say anything more, eyes already closed.

Satoru’s arm presses your form against his, just barely.

When he wakes up, you’re still laying there beside him, unmoving.

He leaves.

At first, Satoru tries to tell himself it’s a happy coincidence.

After all, isn’t it? His problem has always been the women (and men) who give him a certain kind of look before he gets up to leave.

The ones who text him back first, who read everything instantly, who always want to meet up again. The ones who always, inevitably, start to want something more.

Like him giving them the fuck of a lifetime with someone who could be a real-life supermodel and happens to be the greatest sorcerer on earth wasn’t enough. Granted, they don’t know about the sorcerer thing, but still!

It always turns out like this:

Things are good for a while. Sex is good, he gets attention when he texts them, they both understand this is totally casual, no commitment.

Sometimes he even brings up another hookup he’s going to, just to drive the point home, and he cheers them on when they’re getting some somewhere else, too.

(He’s got no reason to be insecure, after all. He would be anyone’s first choice.)

From there, he can admit some of it is his fault. It’s hard, being as irresistible as he is. Being so devastatingly good-looking and even better in bed.

Having so much humor and personality in his amazing texts (never mind that most of them just react with an emoji or a short haha or an unrelated compliment – he drinks it all up just the same).

They start to text him first, which is impressive, considering what a spammer he is. He likes to text them to fill his time, to talk to someone, have his notifications filled with messages of people who want him.

So what if it’s an ego boost? Isn’t that what they’re using him for, too?

But when they start texting him themselves, when they return his style of badgering, it’s not random and rambling. It’s affectionate, personal. They’ve gotten attached, and they want him to be, too.

It’s all nonsense like Saw this and thought of you, and You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and I want to meet up again soon.

He has to stop spamming with memes or selfies or random observations throughout his day, stop talking about shops or cafes he’d like to visit. Sometimes he has to mute their notifications, because when he spams other people, they feel comfortable spamming him.

And then it’s just a matter of how long he spends lying to himself. Because as much of an ass as he is, it’s cruel to let them get attached to him when he can’t really open up entirely. When he doesn’t want anything serious.

In fairness, he had told them from the start. He usually breaks it off only after a few days. He always sends them a message and just blocks them – it’s cleaner that way.

Answering any desperate Please, we can still be friends or No, let’s just hook up again, would give them hope for things he can’t give them.

But you?

You text him You’re the most annoying man I’ve ever met, and leave him on read for two days.

Satoru thinks he’s in love.

Not literally, of course, but in love with the relationship he has with you, which is perfect.

Everything about it is perfect, except for that it’s not going on all the time.

You respond to his memes with your own. Chat with him about cafes and desserts and even keep a handful at your home to treat him with. You text him cat pictures, sometimes return selfies if he’s lucky.

Usually he gets those when he sends the thirst pics, sitting there with a grin that scares Ichiji, absolutely giddy as he watches you type, stop typing – he knows you’re looking for something special to send him back.

It’s surprising, how well he just knows things about you. Maybe that was to be expected, though, with your chemistry.

Sex with you is like nothing he’s ever felt before.

You have this way of tensing up, expression shifting as you’re right about to cum – he thinks by now he’s conditioned by it, that just seeing you make that face could get him over the edge.

He’s fucked hot people before but no one like you. Seeing the same clothes from your cute little selfies slip off, it’s like unwrapping a present he can’t wait to eat up. Makes him salivate like a box of chocolates, like the one truffle package you got one time and made him eat on his knees with his head in your lap, out of your hands.

Fucking you is one of his favorite things ever, right up there with kikufuku and making fun of his coworkers (and students!). You’re a beautiful bend of reactive and pliant, so fun to tease and edge and so rewarding to please.

God, fuck, he wants you. He wants you all the time. All his other hookups are silenced in favor of you, boring conversations abandoned in favor of debating tiramisu and tres leches, and all other sorts of inane things.

What your favorite school subjects are, oddly enough (he supposes he was asking for it, telling you he taught high schoolers).

You like literature, he likes math, and when he hears you talk about it, he almost wants to read some of those novels you like so much. Non-sorcerer politics has never meant anything to him but it matters when he hears you talk about it.

It’s like hearing about a whole separate world with its own struggles. Your opinions are so well-thought out, he can tell just how much you care, and something hums along aside him as he asks questions, nods his head, really listens to what you have to say. It feels so surreal to hear someone whose goals are not so unlike his, when he thinks about it.

Maybe that’s where some of this fondness comes from. Maybe it’s humbling, thinking you want to change your world just as much as he wants to change his, and the only difference is how much people listen.

He can’t imagine not wanting to listen to you. People should listen more. You should run everything, he jokes.

(He’s joking. He’s joking. You don’t know enough to get why he says that twice.)

And then it’s not serious again – when was it ever, really? You talk about your favorite manga and anime and tease each other for your tastes. Maybe talk about episodes or movies you’ve seen together.

He’s admittedly a bit of a movie buff – it’s a real victory when he convinces you to watch one of his old favorites. When he finds out you watched it, he’s excited the whole day to hear what you thought.

You debate what animals you would be; you are definitely a cat – aloof and independent – and you’re quite insistent that he’d be a husky, energetic and annoying and – probably other words you say before he sends you a picture of his dick and you facetime him with some more interesting conversation.

Your days – weeks, months, really – they go on like that, they’re great. Everything is perfect, really.

So when he hears you casually mention you’ve got other dinner plans – when his mind instantly supplies we’re just casual, tease her and hope she gets lucky – the wretched, dark twist in his gut is wholly unexpected.

And he knows instantly. Immediately, really, because he’s just too smart not to.

He knows he doesn’t want you going out with other people. Touching them. Showing them the same faces you show him.

But if he wants you to be his, then he has to ask. And you – you make him wait to hear back.

You never reach out to him first. You open the door with a cool expression, like your heart doesn’t race at the sight of him like his does (he can see it is, he can see it, but his soul is withering at your look like you couldn’t care less).

Satoru doesn’t usually have to ask, not for anything.

People beg to be able to fuck him. They spam when he ghosts them, begging for scraps. He doesn’t have to ask for attention, people shower him in it.

Everyone wants him. They love him. They don’t abandon him along with all their morals and tell him to kill them if he doesn’t like it.

They beg him to stay, and he is the one who leaves.

He’s too much for them. Too much for anyone. You wouldn’t be able to hand him, anyways.

And he can leave any time he wants, he just… doesn’t want to.

(He never wants to leave. He wants it to stay like this, forever. But when does it ever turn out like that?)

Besides, you’re – you also want it to stay casual. Like he told you from the beginning. Probably trying to save your feelings from getting hurt – and can he blame you? Really, with his looks, anyone would be scared to lose him.

So this was just… a happy coincidence. You didn’t want it serious, he didn’t want it, either.

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight. You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

Satoru’s lip twitches, but it doesn’t manage a smile. It almost feels like you’re kicking him out.

But he knows you’re not, because even if you were the one person on earth who could resist his irresistible charm, he just gave you some absolutely mind-blowing sex.

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” Satoru teases, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

He says it playfully, casually, because it is casual. It wouldn’t bother him if you told him to fuck off right then and there. It wouldn’t.

You hum noncommittally. “Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

If he’s relieved that he can stay, it’s because he’s as exhausted as you are. Because you make him feel good, so fucking good, like he’s on top of the world. Having to leave would just be a mood killer.

“What a coincidence,” He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

He is not and never has been. He sleeps three hours a night wakes up by 5am.

It’s never bothered him before. His dreams are not a place he wants to be. But they’ve never hurt him when you were there.

He wraps an arm around you, holding you against him, just barely. Not too tight.

You don’t say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.

When he wakes, you’re still laying there beside him, unmoving.

The thing is, you’re awake. He knows that. You’re a light sleeper. Always have been.

He knows you hate morning showers yourself, and always do it at night. Knows what you like for breakfast, how to make it. That you like to sleep in because you have trouble sleeping.

He knows what you think about late at night because you text him about it, because he’s always there texting you, because neither of you can sleep and someone ends up calling and whispering secret scattered thoughts in hushed tones and –

And he honestly doesn’t know, if it’s you or him that slips in the I want to touch you right now, or Want me to kiss it better. Who turns it into sex so things can’t get to be too much.

Satoru would really, really like to think that it’s him, but the truth is that he’s reaching the limit of how believable his lies are, even to himself.

He knows, he knows he knows he knows that if he stayed, you would let him –

(If he repeats it enough it will surely become true.)

– but you both agreed no feelings.

Besides, it’s not like he wants to stay, anyways.

(Why won’t you ask him to come back?)

You know what Satoru is the moment you meet him. It’s not like he’s made any secret of it, either.

A whore. A man-whore, if you will. A player. Whatever it is. He slept with people, drank in all the sex and attention and then went on his merry way.

You get it. This wasn’t the first time you’d met a pretty boy who fucked around, not by a long shot.

He says all casual, no feelings, you smile and nod, and you go back to his place fully expecting to be disappointed because pretty boys usually suck in bed.

And then he fucks you within an inch of your life.

He eats you like a man staved. Hands roving over your skin, groping and squeezing in a way that would be violating, if his beautiful eyes weren’t wild and desperate.

His body is toned and smooth and perfect, unmarred skin that he presses to yours like he’s trying to staunch the bleeding of some invisible wound.

You’ve never felt like this before. Sex has never been this amazing. He props his stupid pretty face up on his elbow and he gives you that stupid charming boyish smirk and asks you if you want to go another round, red-faced and eager. It’s overwhelming and exciting and amazing –

And it’s terrifying, because it’s always like this for him, isn’t it? He just came in and gave you the fuck of a lifetime, but this is just another lay for him.

(But he’s having fun. It’s good for him, too. So why don’t you take what you can get?)

So when he saves his number in your phone, That was awesome, babe, we should do this again sometime, you don’t put a lot of weight into his words. You roll his eyes when he blows you a kiss goodbye, but you don’t delete his number.

Even when he wakes you up with some silly cat meme (god, you hate morning people), somehow you find yourself smiling. You let him know he can get his dick sucked any time if he meows cute enough and woah, maybe you’re coming on too strong –

He sends you an attachment of himself wearing cat ears, striking an obnoxious pose, with a fake tail that he holds by the end in his mouth.

Satoru Gojo, that’s the name. And you do suck his dick, like you promised, but he comes to you determined to get in character, meowing at you, pressing his face into your hands, rubbing into your side, nuzzling your panties while he looks up into your face with a smirk.

It’s a fight to get him on his back and his legs open wide enough for you to settle in. He meows again like a kitty, and purrs like one too when you take his cock into your mouth, hands threading through your hair. Giggling at his own antics.

Your eyes water when you take him, deep, moaning and feeling him shudder at the feeling, long legs squirming on either side of you. He pulls away suddenly, with a pop, laughing when his dick hits the side of your face and you glare at him. Sticking out his tongue.

He looks so young. So heartbreakingly sweet and charming. He pulls you in to settle you on his cock, face-to-face this time, his smile melting into something soft and tacky, sticking to your lips as he kisses his precum away. Infectious delight.

Satoru holds your hands in his, palm to palm, as you ride him in his lap. Face tilted up to look at you with a blush on his cheeks. Blue eyes wide like they have to be, to take you in, as if they aren’t themselves oceans you have to stop yourself from falling into.

You can’t look into his eyes when you cum, when he cums. You’re not sure if he’s looking either.

But you feel him, oh, do you feel him – hands squeezing yours as if in warning, face buried into your neck, a moan that vibrates throughout the both of you.

When you wake up, the next morning, you don’t even mind the fact that he’s still next to you, cuddled up, right beside you. You don’t mind, until you feel him stiffen suddenly, like he’s realized you’re awake, immediately pulling away.

That’s… you’re not sure what it is, since cuddling was obviously okay, so why does he not want to do it while you’re awake? It is too close? Too intimate?

He’d held your hands while he stared deep into your eyes and rocked gently into you last night, but cuddling would be too intimate?

But he smiles that smile before he leaves, stumbling a little bit while he gets dressed, in that goofy way that lanky tall men sometimes do. You even overlook the fact that he’s renamed himself in your contacts. ~ Satoru ~ My Kitten.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid (you’re smiling already), unbearable man. You want to hit him in the face, with your face. Very hard.

Casually, of course. It’s casual between you. No feelings at all.

But then he starts texting you all the time. He double, triple, quadruple texts, with the infuriating shamelessness of someone who’s never been ignored in his life.

Like he’s never worried that the other person is losing interest. He carries himself like it, too, like he knows everyone wants him, and unfortunately, he’s right.

So you tell him he’s annoying and you don’t look at your phone again. Not until he shows up on your doorstep with that pout on his impossibly pretty face.

And you don’t turn him away. Why would you? If he’s going to offer himself on a platter, why not eat up?

You’re just being realistic here. If you fucked him once and never heard from it again, it would still hurt almost as much as it will now. You’ll just be a little lonelier without your texting partner, but you’ll get over it.

There’s other fish in the sea. Even if none of them are as pretty as him, none of them make them laugh like you do. You’re not exclusive. He can see other people, so can you. You’ve made it a point not to ask.

You don’t like what he’s doing now. How he pauses long, makes you wait before telling you to have fun on your date.

How the next time you see him there’s something strange in his eyes, something that leaves him with clawing hands, hungry mouth, eager to leave his marks all over you.

Satoru doesn’t stop texting you, doesn’t stop selfies, thirst traps, prodding little questions and jokes, doesn’t stop obnoxiously demanding (begging?) for your attention.

At first it was an ego boost. Now, it’s terrifying.

Because now he likes you, doesn’t he? He’s interested now. Having fun. Making you feel like he’s jealous, acting like he’s on withdrawal if he goes too long without you, making you feel like someone as beautiful and rich and funny as him could possibly be in love with you.

But he told you in the beginning. Something casual.

Maybe these feelings are real in the moment. But one day they’ll fade, and everything will be yanked right out from under you.

You’ll wonder why he’s getting distant these days. You’ll remember that you never made it official, and sweat over the possibility that he’s seeing someone else. At the end of the day that’s all you’ll be able to do; worry and worry while you’re too afraid to ask.

You’ll wonder what you did wrong. What you did to lose him. How you could go from someone so fascinating, someone he so thoroughly adored and fucked like he was making love, to an afterthought and a stranger, unless you did something wrong? Unless you made a mistake, somewhere along the line?

The mistake of getting attached to him in the first place.

Fuck that. Satoru can develop feelings on his own fucking time. He’ll lose them just as quickly, you can tell.

This isn’t anything more than a hookup to him. He’s an attention whore who likes to hear himself talk, and you’re dumb enough to entertain him because you’re lonely and easily amused, at least when it comes to him.

There’s nothing real here.

You still don’t know where he actually works, outside of some nebulous high school teaching situation. Where he lives. What he does most of the day, what his parents are like. Where he’s from, even. You don’t know if he’s seeing anyone else. He could be married with kids, for all you know.

Not – not that you care. Not that you give a fuck what he’s doing, who he’s fucking, where he is when he’s not with you. You don’t care about him past his dick and what it does to you.

If you did care, you’d only suffer for it. So you draw the line.

You don’t need him, and you want to keep it that way. You don’t want to get attached, and neither does he. So you try to keep him at arm’s length.

Close enough to touch but not so close that your foolish, eager heart can leap out of your chest and into his hands.

Would he still give you that boyish grin when he rejected you? Laugh and let you down gently? Would he say yes and hold your hand while you walked together to the guillotine, the painful end to a relationship that wasn’t supposed to happen anyways? Would he skip away while your heart seized and trembled on the executioner’s block?

He’d look pretty even with blood on his face, you’re sure. But you wouldn’t come out so nicely.

So you don’t ask him to stay. You don’t ask him for anything. You take what you’re given and you savor it, but you try – oh, god, do you fucking try – to find someone else, something else to occupy your time.

But he’s just too good. You want him. And you don’t get to have him if you ignore his texts and don’t answer when he’s at the door. You don’t get to fuck him if you won’t even let him see you.

So even if you look away, even if your answers are short, even if you don’t let him stay (not that he even wants to) – you have to let him in.

And unlike you, he’s got self-respect. He’s got other options. If he can’t have you, he’ll just fuck other people, so you can’t push him away too much. You have to make him want to come back. You have to make him want to give you more.

But you can’t control what Satoru wants, and that is the problem.

It’s out of your hands, locked securely in his ribcage where you can never get to it.

He doesn’t talk about his life, his history, doesn’t even complain about work during off hours.

Really, it’s already over, isn’t it? Has been, ever since the beginning. You’re just waiting for the inevitable end.

“Mmmh… that’s it for me tonight.” You say, tired. So tired, and warm. Satoru always leaves you like this; loose-limbed and floaty, high enough to feel the drop. “You can shower before you leave, if you want.”

“Oh? I can’t stay the night?” Satoru asks, teasing, “Just gonna pump and dump me? So mean~”

You close your eyes, trying not to think of what his face must look like.

“Knock yourself out. But you can’t shower in the morning, you’ll wake me up.”

“What a coincidence,” He purrs, laying next to you on the bed, “I’m a late sleeper, too.”

Satoru’s arm around your form presses you against him, just barely. Not too close. Never too close.

You don’t say anything more. You lay there and let him hold you while you fall asleep.

You can feel it when he wakes up. How his breathing changes, how he stiffens and tenses against you, you tumble out of sleep instantly, lashes fluttering.

You shut them closed again. Relax yourself. You don’t have to get up. You don’t want to get up.

Why isn’t he leaving yet? What’s taking him so long?

There’s this tension that creeps into your chest. Like you can feel each individual breath he takes. Waiting for him to say something, shake you awake – but why would he? And why would you want him to?

You know what this is. You’ve always known.

So you lay there, still, breathing calm and even, until he leaves.

(…Come back. Please come back.)

[elsecrytt]

it may have been like going on 3 weeks not skdfjgshdgf BUT!!! i do have a post for tonight!!! i just gotta finish up this baby,,, i'm actually pretty proud of it hehe

it's not even kinktober skhfglshdfg. i should have shoehorned it into one of the prompts but i am weird like that... i must do them in order sfgslhfg i MUST

[elsecrytt]

listen i KNOW i am periodically inactive and barely post anything and i have really failed to keep up with kinktober shgldhgf BUT YOU JUST WAIT.

i'm gonna FINISH this ONE wip!!! and then when i do!!! it'll be finished!!! then you'll all see!!!! because it will be posted! shjfglsfhdg

god forreal though it's soooo frustrating. i have so many wips. so many ideas that i'm just giddy thinking about! but none of them are finished! i want to find more friends who like the same fucked up stuff i do.

[elsecrytt]

Saw your new pinned post on my feed so I just thought I’d stop by to say hiiii~~~ 👋🏻💕

Hi!! I wave from faraway, across the gap of separate fandoms,,, my beloved Satan is still there as my pfp,,, tbh I don't want to replace him. idk why but i've always found that card to be so aesthetic.

[elsecrytt]

Kinktober Day 7

Sensory Deprivation | Crops/Whips | Tentacles

Summary: When Satoru Gojo was freed from the Prison Realm, he was completely catatonic. You've been taking care of him.

Warnings: gojo is traumatized, but when isn’t he? no other warnings, this is actually pretty sweet

Curled up in a ball, knees tucked all the way to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them as he buries his head there – Satoru Gojo barely makes a sound.

It’s been weeks since he came out of the Prison Realm. You don’t know what it was like in there.

He won’t tell you. He won’t talk at all.

You’d managed to drag him home. After much shouting, worried tears and exclamations, even Megumi grasping him by the shoulders and shaking him; it had all left Satoru as this wilted mess. Cowering in the corner of your room.

What had he seen in there? How long had it been for him? You’d been warned the Prison Realm might have ruined him.

You’re just glad to have him alive. Everything else comes later.

He’s still in survival mode. Not eating or drinking, bodily functions suspended as he holds still in the corner, flinching away from the light.

You turn the lights off in the room, but not before you get up on a stepping stool, sticking glow-in-the-dark stars to the ceiling.

Just in case the darkness reminds him too much of his imprisonment. Not that you would know either way. He's dead silent there. Sometimes you worry if he's still breathing.

You can’t touch him. He’s got infinity on, still. It might be blocking sound, too, or perhaps he’s too catatonic to respond at all.

Whether he can see is anyone’s guess. He shudders like a wounded animal at bright lights so you make sure to keep them off always.

There’s a pumpkin spice scent plugin you find at the store. It smells like sugar and spice and everything nice, just the sort of thing he’s always loved.

You leave it plugged in on low, and soon the thought of seeing him is synonymous with the scent of fresh pumpkin bread.

You hope he likes it. You hope you make him feel a little better when you visit, but you don't know.

Every day you come into the dark room, shutting the door gently behind you so there’s no light. You can just barely see by the light of the glowing stars.

You talk to him softly, almost in a whisper, so it doesn’t overwhelm. You tell him that everyone is so glad he’s back – all his precious students, even his coworkers are relieved. And you, of course.

Satoru doesn’t look up to see your blush. If he hears your voice soften, he doesn’t react.

So you press on. Telling him about your day, how his students were doing. Asking him if he wants anything to eat or drink, and leaving a tray beside him, just in case. And you collect it with greater worry every day, as it goes untouched.

Satoru doesn’t shudder when you open the door anymore. You still don’t like to leave it open.

One day you trip, stumbling in and dropping the tray before you can close the door.

You can’t suppress a frustrated sigh, looking between the tray and Satoru, still hunched in the corner. You stand and turn to close the door, and shut out the light –

There’s a pressure on your foot, something shocking enough for you to jump away, but it’s like you’re clad in irons –

“Satoru?” You whisper instead of yell, purely out of habit.

He’s laying down on his belly, face down, eyes wincing as if he can’t bear to get light in them. But his arm reaches out, hand clutching at your ankle all the same.

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s shaking. Trembling in tight movements like a cat, muscles all tense and straining. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t respond at all, only holds himself in place.

You fall to your knees next to him. Arms around his oversized, gangly form.

Satoru stops shivering as he freezes solid in your embrace. You move to block the light from his eyes, his head tucked into your neck.

“It’s okay,” You murmur, squeezing him, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Satoru.”

A jerk. Muscles contracting all at once, something you can feel more than you can see. You can feel him, finally. You can touch him.

His mouth moves, you think, lips slipping over your neck. You don’t hear any sound. He holds you even tighter.

With one hand slipping out of the tight embrace, you stroke his hair. It’s soft, like heaven in your hands. Just familiar enough to make your heart ache.

Satoru turns his face towards yours.

You look and for the first time in a while, you see his eyes.

Terrible. A terrible, awful, beautiful thing to behold. They look like shattered sapphires, a glassy ocean surface, pupils contracted so tightly you’re almost worried for his health.

They take in every minutia, bloodshot and reddened, even though he instantly shuts them tight again.

What was he seeing? What had he seen?

You take the blindfold out, covering his eyes. There’s a sigh, then, one of relief, as you feel his shoulders drop just a little.

There’s something else you’ve brought with you, just in case he’d let you touch him today. A set of noise-cancelling headphones.

Like he’s some kind of frightened animal, you reach around and quickly slip them over his head, on his ears.

Sure enough, he does flinch again at the contact, but quickly he relaxes. Unfolding even more, spine uncurled as he sits up for the first time in a long while.

Satoru sits with his legs in front of him, leaning back with his hands on the floor, supporting him. His lips are open, face half-vacant, half-surprised. But you’re still touching him, he’s letting you.

“Satoru…?” You ask carefully, and then curse yourself, because obviously he can’t hear you.

And he can’t.

Satoru can’t hear anything, for the first time since he came back from hell only to enter a new one.

He can’t hear anything, and it’s perfect. It’s beautiful. It feels like heaven, now.

Like splinters being pulled out from his skin, like a weight lifting from his shoulders, like shade from the blinding sun.

Gone. The infernal, hellish static that made him feel like his insides were being stretched thin like that corpse-skin prison, it’s gone. Just the soft slip of cloth around his eyes, the gentle weight over his head and ears.

Everything is black and calm and perfect again, except he can feel around him. He can feel the ground, the breath in his lungs. It’s not bones and biting curses and timeless madness that feels like it’s turning his brain to mush.

His large hands grope around in the blackness, senses pivoting on every object he touches.

There’s a faint scent in the air, something sweet, and his mouth waters –

Oh. He’s hungry. He’s been hungry for so long, and it’s just hitting him now.

Flesh. Warm and living and not his own. It feels impossible, it feels like a miracle. He darts towards this body that’s not his, on hands and knees, feels a torso knocked over.

He knows this body. Knows each individual piece so intimately; the arms that used to hold him, the hands that feel so familiar cupping his cheek, the smaller legs that twine with his own.

His hands undo your shirt on muscle memory, sliding over the supple skin of your chest, your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage in his hands.

A thumb brushes his cheekbone, just under where his eyes is. Wet, it’s wet. Is he crying?

It’s so hard to tell. Everything is warm and soft and he wants to feel more of it. He feels his heart pounding, alive, for the first time in so long. Mouth open, words rumbling from his lips.

Satoru doesn’t even know what he says. He can’t hear it. It’s perfection, pure bliss.

And it lands your lips against his so it couldn’t have been that bad.

He licks back into your mouth, the air tingling against his senses. Sweetness.

He knows this hunger, too. A scent he can barely detect with his eyes and ear closed. So many times, he’d held your underwear to his face to breathe this in. Now, it’s like it’s beckoning him.

The scent alone guides him down your body, the curve of your waist and hips.

Fingers slipping under pants and underclothes, pulling down until the smell of you hits his nose, hot and heady in his lungs.

He wants it. Oh, he wants it.

All he can feel is your hands on his back, holding him. There’s no sound, nothing to see, only the feel of you against him, soft and supple and oh so –

Sweet.

You’re wet, too, under his mouth closing on you. He knew by touch exactly where it was, where to flick his tongue to send your legs twitching at his sides, where to drive his fingers to tease at the edge of your hole.

And the taste. Oh, god! The taste!

It slips over his tongue, coating it headily. Something salty, something sweet, something heady and distinctly you.

It dances over his mouth, and he opens wide to devour more. And he can’t see, so he traces your folds by memory, tongue following the seam of your cunt until it reaches the hood of your clit.

It’s more tender than he remembered. Like this, blind and deaf, he can feel it twitching on his tongue, as eager to be lavished as he is to lavish you.

A hand threads in his hair, and it only urges him on. Closing his mouth over your clit, suckling and pursing his lips.

Stroking gently with his tongue, feeling how your body lean in and away from his presses. He urges and relents, strokes in steady movements, catches on a rhythm that you can’t help but buck into.

Satoru doesn’t hear you, but the tremor of your body is unmistakable against him.

There’s a wicked delight that spurts up in him, something playful and mischievous. He guides your grasping hand to his hair, traces up your chest to hold your throat.

Why hear your moans when he can feel them? Listening for your breaths with the arm on your chest, knowing how your pulse quickens by the fingers on your veins.

He wants to know when you’re close by the feel of you, by touch. Muscle memory awakening in his mind.

The squeeze of you around his tongue telling him to tighten and suckle against your clit, to wedge himself further so you can’t close your legs.

He thinks he likes it better this way. He could live like this forever, just your body on his, like he’s drifting endlessly in the ocean of you.

A hand on his. His name on your lips.

Maybe after a few more, he’ll take the headphones off so he can hear you scream his name.

[elsecrytt]

So, what's an Elsey?

Glad you asked! Elsey (they/them) is me - I'm over 20 years old and a creator and connoisseur of fanfiction. Right now I'm all over JJK~

You WILL FIND nsfw, dark, and occasionally extreme kink content on this blog. This includes yandere, noncon, toxic relationships, gore/graphic injury, the works.

If that's not something you're comfortable with, I never take being blocked or unfollowed personally! Curate your feed guilt-free <3

I do try to consistently tag all nsfw content with #lemon, and #female!reader or #afab!reader where appropriate.

Requests are open! I'm working on Kinktober stuff, so I might not get to any requests for a while, but I like to chat.

Satoru, Suguru, and Sukuna are my faves, so anything to do with them is sure to grab my attention. I'll take any requests that interest me, and if it doesn't, I'm not one to kinkshame, so don't sweat it!

Masterlists

Ao3 (contains mostly content not on this blog)

Jujutsu Kaisen

Obey Me

[elsecrytt]

Masterlist - JJK

WARNING: Some links contain explicit content. This is an 18+ blog. Interact appropriately.

Last updated - 12/15/2024

Kinktober

Virginity - Satoru/Reader

Aftercare - Satoru/Reader/Suguru

Conditioning - Suguru/Reader

Castration - Satoru/Reader

Cages - Satoru/Reader

Threesome - Satoru/Reader/Sukuna

Sensory Deprivation - Satoru/Reader

Fics

Professional (Nanami/Reader)

Kento Nanami is your OBGYN. The father... isn't present for this journey, but that's okay. Nanami always takes care of his patients.

Your Heart is Spilling Out, Babe (Satoru/Reader)

You and Satoru are friends with benefits. No feelings, that was the agreement from the start. Neither of you want anything more. Even if you did, it wouldn’t work out, anyways. Not that you care if it would.

Not wanted, only needed (Satoru/Reader)

Satoru Gojo is not wanted. Only needed. He's there to be used, not loved. But not to you. Never to you.

Touch-starved masochist Gojo (Character study)

Satoru Gojo is starved for touch, in love with pain. He is (not) okay.

Miniseries

Housekeeper

Price Spike (Satoru/Reader)

You are Satoru Gojo's housekeeper. He's such a fucking asshole, but you need this job. And your rent just went up...

Work is Getting Better (Satoru/Reader)

Satoru Gojo, your boss and probably the weirdest guy you know, is finally made to understand the value of your homemade meals <3

Thoughts/Ramblings/Ficlets

Barista!Reader vs Gojo

Duality (trimunitive?) of different JJK men doing somno (Gojo, Nanami, Geto)

Corruption Kink with Yanderes

Slut on Slut Violence (emotionally)

Asks

Professional BDSM Dominatrix reader VS Satoru and Suguru's toxic relationship

Daddy Suguru? More likely than you think

Suguru Geto's unmatched oral prowess

Is Sukuna a masochist? Come on, you know the answer to this one...

What if...

Curse Technique where you can transform into other people

Curse Technique where love conquers all <3

Curse Technique where they fall in love with you BUT...

Chapter 236 is elaborate propaganda to protect a now de-powered Satoru Gojo in this essay I will...