#cant let go: be careful what you wish for

[lexirosewrites]

Due to trauma Steve presented very late. And when he did present,it was in april of '85, as a duel dynamic. Alpha and Omega. It's extremely rare,and messes with his hormone levels in such a way he is constantly going into pre heat/rut, and feels sick nearly all the time. Not only is it debilitating, he's so nervous about anyone finding out, its very taboo rare thing to happen., and he's terrified his parents will find out he's not just an alpha and will kick him out. Only people who (know until he tells Robin on the mall bathroom floor) are his doctors and himself, He no longer sleeps with anyone until he can sort things out. During the summer of 85 his doctor has come up with a plan of action, they believe a bitching will solve his issues,cornering him into being an omega should help fix things a bit. They think the process may need to be stretched out so it'll stick. He'd still have his alpha cock and his hormones should balance out and he'd feel exponentially better, though he'd still have to take medication for the rest of his life to prevent himself from becoming duel again, and possibly help him from being infertile, because that's also up in the air much to Steve's dismay. Trouble is he doesn't know any alpha he could trust to help him, it's such a HUGE daunting favor and he wishes he already had a mate to help him. He would ask Nancy but the history and the fact that she's with Jonathan is definitely not a good idea…and Robin can't help with the sexual aspect of it of course, though being around her makes him feel a bit better,and calms him a bit, but she's not the alpha he needs.

After the events of season three Steve gets worse and Keith, who didn't want to hire Steve to begin with, keeps threatening to fire him, because he keeps needing to take off work just to to rest. So he starts bringing in doctors notes to get him off his back and then rumors finally start flying. His parents even hear about Steve hiding some big illness and are horrified when he tells him the true reason, and want him to become a full alpha instead, which isn't possible for him. An attempt could kill him while becoming a full omega, while still dangerous, is the more sensible decision. They make it clear to him that they will not support him in that. All the drama makes him feel even worse and it goes on for months, he's even confronted with the whole FRIENDS DON'T LIE spiel and tells them "I'll eventually be okay, don't worry." He cant really tell them what needs to be done but that's all he can say.

85 ends and Steve still does not have an alpha that can help him, until he meets and befriends Eddie,during the nightmare that is the events of season four. They become friends and are there for one another during the healing process after the bat attacks and even as they get better from those injuries, Steve just keeps getting sicker,and his body feels alight when Eddie is around. He wants to ask Eddie, but he also doesn't want this new special friendship to implode because it's such a HUGE ask, that's one hell of a favor to ask from a friend (and crush!!!). During a particularly bad round of illness Eddie swings by to check on Steve and Steve finally tells him whats gotten him so sick, And Eddie immediately, without hesitation, volunteers himself. Tells him "I'll do it Steve. You take care of everyone so well, let me take care of you. Let help you."

eddie wants to take care of him 🥺😭💕

[badaseyebags]

hi hru?? ur amazingg

can i request a bada smut, when she comes back from dance class clingy and horny, but reader is cooking (idk, just doing something) and has to finish?

if u dont want/cant write this, its totally ok, dont feel bad and dont pressure yourself too much. love youuuu<333

but first.. dessert ⋆｡°✩ birthday cake

warnings: whiny/needy bada, she’s basically desperate, lots of making out, low-key cringe my apolocheese, it’s cute but it’s also not, bada herself.

word count: 1,5k

authors note: hi dear anon, first of all i would like to apologise for taking so so long to finish writing your request, and also hope you don’t mind me turning this into a birthday piece and not writing full on smut just yet! thank you for requesting, feel free to leave feedback (very appreciated) requests open <3

it’s currently 3 pm and bada’s class doesn’t end until 3:45, meaning she won’t be able to get home anywhere before 5pm. which means.. almost another hour or so of torture. the torture being her not being able to get her hands all over you as she would really wishes she could right now. all she has to do is distract herself for the time being before she can fulfil her wishes. simple enough, right? well it would be, if it wasn’t for the dizzying heat spreading trough out her whole body ..and for the naughty visions she created of you causing her to feel this way. if she could take you right now, right here in her studio, she would. no questions asked. no hesitation. she wouldn’t even care to shut the door, too impatient to get a feel, a taste, a touch, or anything she can. the way she would bend you over and watch you take her from behind and- okay, no. this was getting harder by minute. sometimes she’s thankful she wasn’t born a man, because she would have a “harder” time physically masking what you do to her almost 24/7.

the more she tried “distracting” herself, the more need she ended up feeling towards you. shaking her thoughts off, she continued showing off her dance skills, her movements becoming even more sensual than they usually tend to be. not that anyone minded, they were used to this by now. heck, they even appreciated it if they had to be honest. seeing her grind on the floor and smack the air was nothing out the norm, anyone would of thought she was just in her element. what they didn’t know was that she was imagining you under her the whole time, her cap covering her dark eyes that held nothing but lust at the moment. after what felt like long years it was finally time for her to leave. she didn’t even stay behind for a little talk session with her students as she usually does, politely excusing herself and dashing out the door. she was practically sprinting towards her car, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, making her knuckles turn white. she had one priority right now and that’s all that mattered.

meanwhile you were in the kitchen trying to be a sweet good girlfriend for bada, preparing a little birthday surprise for her. not that the breakfast you prepared for her this morning and brought to bed wasn’t enough, or you feeding it to her as her grin grew wider. but you really wanted to surprise her when she comes back. she shouldn’t be home for at least 30 minutes or more like a hour that she usually spends chatting in her studio after her classes. it’s her birthday after all and you’re sure her students won’t let her go so quickly without wishing her all the best and more. you planned to dress up real pretty for her once you finish baking, and according to the clock you still had plenty of time. you were currently wearing nothing but one of bada’s oversized shirts that didn’t do much to cover your body, stopping just in the middle of your thigh, and a cute little apron on top to prevent it from getting dirty as you decorated the first batch of your strawberry vanilla cupcakes, the other still baking in the oven. you had this cute little idea of assembling the cupcakes in the shape of a full cake. it would save a lot of hassle cutting uneven cake slices, you thought. you sigh, sleepily wiping your forehead with the back of your whipped cream covered hand, given that you’ve started baking right after bada’s tall figure left the door just so you could get everything ready in time.

your soft humming to the beat of the song playing in the background was interrupted by an abrupt sound of keys jingling, followed by the handle being turned. you turned your head in surprise blinking in confusion, heart dripping to your feet. feeling a little embarrassed and caught off guard since you wanted all of this to be a surprise, well.. it would of been, if you’ve gotten the chance to finish it. you didn’t even get the chance to fully turn around to face her, to give her a proper greeting before she eloped you in a tight back hug, her large arms securely wrapping themselves around your waist. a place they almost belonged. you could feel her, smell her, and even hear her before you could see her.

“bada! is it 5 already?” you turn your head slightly to get a peek at her unusually out of breath self. she’s in very good shape it’s not likely seeing her so out of breath, unless she just finished dancing, or in this case ran to her to you faster. she just shakes her head, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple making your heart flutter. “no no baby, i just couldn’t wait to get home..” she buries her face in your neck, inhaling your scent giving you goosebumps, her voice dropping a little lower. your ears perk up as you suddenly notice her breathing much heavier then usual, her sweaty hands gripping onto your waist a little more possessively than you’re used to. you tried to keep your composure and continue decorating cupcakes, acting as if nothing was going on, but bada’s strange behaviour had your head spinning.

was she… in the mood or something? your suspicions further confirmed themselves as the innocent sniffing turned into rushed pecks to your neck, gradually transforming to soft nibbles and messy kisses. your movements came to a halt, eyes widening as you heard her whine against your skin. “please.. i need you so bad… i had to come home early because i couldn’t help myself.” your hands grip the piping bag out of instinct, causing some of it to spill on the counter and all over your hand. “you’re gonna let me have you right… you’re gonna let me take you… please baby say you will.” she growled into your ear, her hands slowly sliding down your hips and under the thin fabric covering your skin.

“bada i.. i have to finish this, it was supposed to be a surprise-“ you weakly mumble as you feel her large hands rub over the bare skin of your hips. “let me finish you first… you didn’t even wear panties? is that another surprise for me? please, let me have a taste..” she was practically begging at this point, her chest pressed tightly against your back. you couldn’t hold back anymore, turning around to face her was a huge mistake. seeing her in this state only made you weak in the knees. her wavy hair all messed up, sticky bangs pressed against her forehead. cheeks flushed, sweaty clothes sticking to her skin, chest rising up and down with her glossy eyes staring at you with pure desperation. you look up at her admiring her beauty as you cup her cheek, some of the whipped cream leaving a stain behind. she was quick to catch it, her tongue sticking out to lick the remains of the sugary cream as she held your hand against it, moaning softly as she closed her eyes. you’ve decided you had enough, you couldn’t even handle it anymore. with little effort you pulled her face to your level, catching her off guard. her hands fell on the counter behind you, successfully trapping you in the middle as you gave her the softest most gentle loving kiss and pulled away. she whines leaning into another kiss but you pull away again with a gentle giggle to tease her, just to rile her up more.

she huffs as she grips your hips, effortlessly lifting you up on the counter. one of her hands cups your jaw and the other rests on your thigh as she forces herself between them, crashing her lips against yours. this kiss being anything but gentle, unlike the previous one. your arms instinctively wrap around her neck to pull her in closer. she suddenly bites down on your bottom lip, making you shriek but all she does is shiver and kisses you harder, her lips sliding down your jaw and all the way to your neck, painting it in multiple hues of red and purple. you grip onto her hair, partly to make her slow down and partly because you wanted more. “bada slow down, what are you doing-” you lean your head back nonetheless giving her more access to your neck, skilled hand undoing the messy bow of your apron. “decorating my cake before i get to taste it.” she mumbles against your skin, nipping harder as she tosses the apron aside. her kisses trail up higher once again, her voice soon interrupted by the sound of the oven timer going off, her lips swallowing all and any protests before they could ever leave yours.

[ganondoodle]

im not lying when i say that i was just finally getting "over" totk, like i hate it still, but the immediate anger and need to rant has died down-

and then the elden ring DLC fucks with me in a very similar way, just even moreso focused on my favorite character in that entire franchise, completely unexpectedly, and the more i learn about it the worse it gets and now i feel even worse bc i dont have the energy anymore to get as angry as i did with totk and its just kinda ... depression and sadness ..

it was like the interest i could fall back to when zelda annoyed me too much or i needed a break from that and i was honestly thinking about doing more with it but now

i know i know i can always draw 'my own stuff' but being a fan of a piece of media or character is just fun and .. furfilling to me in a different way and now i feel so empty again ... and finding new things to obsess about is easier said and done bc i dont 'decide' to stop liking something and neither can just decide to obsess over something so im just kinda left hanging here ... and in a way, i still like it and care about it, frustratingly so, and dont WANT to just stop and find soemthign new ...

[gayestcowboy]

hey this may be a weird question so feel free to never answer but how did you go about gaining weight? you're so happy with it and i think it may be for me too but i wouldn't know the first step towards that happiness so,,

i’m gonna be so honest it just happened naturally when i went on testosterone. i didn’t drastically change my diet or exercise, if anything i ended up getting more exercise from walking all over my campus (i started t before i started college), and i definitely need to eat more than i used to, but nothing drastic. it’s just how my body reacted to having more testosterone. i didn’t expect it at all going into it, although i’m very glad it happened, but some people lose weight on hrt and some people dont have a weight change ag all, it just depends on the person. since i did literally nothing to gain weight other than hrt, and obviously i have no idea whether hrt is something you even remotely want to do, and hrt isn’t even a guarantee your weight will change at all, i cant do much other than share my own experience 😭 but i wish you luck in whatever you end up doing, and i hope you enjoy your body!

and this might be a weird answer, but if you feel comfortable, you could always try poking around in a weight gain fetish community somewhere online. it’s not really something i’m into so i can’t say whether or not anything will come from it, but i know it exists and it’s a group of people who know how to gain weight, and i’m sure some of them post about how they do it. i won’t give out any more medical advice on tumblr, and i hesitate to ask if anyone else has any advice, but i’m sure the very best thing you could do is talk to a medical professional about it, and just make sure to take good care of your body no matter how much you weigh. weight and health will never measure your worth as a person, but you should always try and take care of your body as best you can. and eat your veggies 👍

[izzy-b-hands]

My doctor messaging me at 12:30 in the morning to tell me she wants to do a telehealth visit abt the side effects I'm having with my new Lamotrigine dose (including worse insomnia than my usual insomnia, as u may have guessed lmao) is. something.

[hesfromsomewhere]

tag ramble pt.1

[trees-to-meet-you]

I was not expecting to be grieving my childhood cat who died back in 2020 tonight, but here we are

[diegoshargrieves]

listening to my parents talk about me is so fucking funny. "she's dealt with us for so long that at this point she's done. she's mentally checked out from having to give a shit about anyone. can you believe how corruptible she is just because she's almost an adult and she thinks that we're not her problem anymore?"

like man you are literally so close. so fucking close.

[bomb-proof]

Honey & I from the other day. She's been super good lately! Just both of us getting fit again. I'm sure we'll be ready to go out into the world by the time I have to be really gone for work bc thats how it works lol. Wanted to horse show twice before my crazy work season starts but thats looking less than likely at this rate.

[bleuberrygliscor]

If I see g*nshin imp*ct shit outside of my like, two mutuals I allow through my filters so I can keep up with Ateru, I am reporting it as spam.

[orcelito]

I know it's not actually in my job description to put myself in harm's way just to spare my employees from the risk, but like. Idk. There's just something about being in a position of authority over them, yet not being able to truly change anything for them... all I'm doing is trying to make things as tolerable for them as possible, and trying to mitigate the owner's treatment of them as just business assets.

So no, I can't raise their wages, but I can be forgiving when it comes to tip deductions and maybe fudge things a little bit when it comes to performance reviews. I can keep some things a secret, and I can quietly tell a diabetic employee that she doesn't have to pay for the fries actually, I won't tell anyone.

And I can take on some of the riskier tasks, because I don't want them to have to. So I'll put the box up well over my head while im balancing on a ladder, I'll cut the giant wheel of parmesan cheese with a dull knife, I'll do the objectively unpleasant tasks, all so they don't have to.

I know my actions won't change the fact that we live in a soul-sucking capitalism machine, but I just hope I can make things even just a little bit more tolerable for them.

[forvirresky]

Actually. Re the su post tags. I think pearl was holding it together rather well, really. Some seriously remarkable and commendable composure. We really only see a few instances of it slipping through, and it only turns into a true break in composure when someone presses her on it. If I were her I really dont think I could bear to see the guy that took my best and first and only (for a really long time) friend away from me. Yes it was roses decision, but greg was the catalyst that allowed it to happen at all. I think I would be really resentful, even if I didn't want to be. I certainly could never be the guys friend.

Dude and the implication of pearl possibly getting with a human????? (barring the possibility of the pink pearl that mightve had that subtext? Unsure. There was a fairly long stretch where pearl was shown getting a bunch of humans numbers. And the pink haired girl episode especially) she is never gonna be able to have that crazy lengthy history she had with rose with any human. They just don't live long enough. That's so little time in comparison. It would just be potential after potential after potential. A brief time of attachment and they're gone, and she'd still be there. Again!! It'd be rose over and over and over. I think I'd go bonkers!!!

Anyways su was ok and I'm not into it anymore but some of the character stuff has really stuck with me.

[fardf150]

fuck

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.

[t4tdanvis]

if i said i was normal about this idea would. would u believe me

[entirelytoooobsessed]

needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post

synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.

warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it

The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.

What a delightful feeling. 

What a human desire. 

“Touch me.” 

The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind. 

“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return. 

“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.

“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is. 

“Your name?” You mutter slowly. 

“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.

Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you. 

You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.

You don’t mind now.

“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back. 

He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”

His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.

The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands. 

With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?

“Hmm? Just what?” 

He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you. 

You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.

But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.

Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.

Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before. 

Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.

But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.

He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.

You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.

“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.

 “No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off.  “No, n-no, don’t wan’you  to leave…” 

You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”

He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.

You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”

You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth. 

You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.

The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.

A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.

Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.

“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~” 

His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.

Perhaps…

“Kiss me.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”

He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.

“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”

“You know we can’t. You-“

“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”

A losing fucking battle. 

Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight. 

All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.

 And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.

He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein. 

It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips. 

He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using. 

Just like he told you to do.

He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises. 

You’d show him what real ascension felt like.

You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.

To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.

You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting. 

He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”

You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin. 

And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.

In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.

Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat. 

He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.

“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.

But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.

So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.

Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.

Like he wants you to.

He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”

Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down. 

Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced. 

He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.

And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.

He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.

He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.

For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.

But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.

Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.

But he stops you.

His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.

His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"

You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.

Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.

"I promise, I will."

And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.

Just you.

"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."

He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.

But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.

To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.

His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.

"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."

He always has been one for dramatics.

His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.

"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.

He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.

And he's crying. And he's beautiful.

More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.

"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"

You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours. 

"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.

“Satoru,” And he shakes.

“Satoru,” And he sobs.

“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.

“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.

Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.

Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.

Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.

Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.

"You love me right?"

You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.

But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.

"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.

"Do you love me?"

You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.

"I do love you Satoru."

And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.

But that doesn't matter.

Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.

"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.

And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.

“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”

“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”

You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”