#pretty privilege with a catch

[liyaklynn]

you seem surprised—

as my eyes flash from black to gold with the suggestion of a single ray how the sun draws honey from my skin as i radiate warmth— you question my sweetness have i made a mess of your expectations? or were you hoping for more— something darker, more soul? you watch my shoulder as the sleeve slips down comforting, perhaps— how my frame reflects someone you recognize my fairness the color in my cheeks safety in the shape of my lips as they smile through our polite conversation

Liya K. Lynn

-

[toadletthethird]

Contrarian and Opportunist both use all pronouns, but for different reasons.

Contrarian does so because they saw the whole reality multiplying and breaking, how can they believe in any strong identity? + it's in his nature to break expected rules + she would want to try everything + they're stranger' ally + all other valid reasons y'know

Opportunist on the other hand does so just because he goes with anything people call him as long as they call him

"Gender is a social construct!" They both exclaim in unison, but one of their voices turns more and more into the triumphant villain laughter

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hello!! i just want to tell you that your art is so goddamn scrumptious, you are literally feeding my xmen brainrot and I find myself smiling when i see your art come across my feed. I love how you draw charles, pretty privilege and post (lets be fr he's serving every time)

i hope you always have fantastic brainrot and id kiss your blessed hands for giving us the gift of cherik and charles xavier, you are literally an icon

hope you have a great day ahead of you and more!! you deserve it !!

well i'ma absolutely have a wonderful mornin after readin this AWWWW thank you so so much !!!! i haven't been postin xmen long, so it's been really heartwarmin seein the warm reception to my work in the wonderful tags people have been leavin on my posts- and especially gettin to answer the lovely asks y'all've been sendin in (❁´ ▽ `❁) !! im glad people also like my goofy text posts and esp quotes from my brother he really has no right being so funny at the most random times

i hope to be xmen posting a while: ive got at least 60 years worth of stuff to look through and ongoing, so i dont imagine my interest'll wane anytime soon :]] !!

[ta1is]

jayce really do be that classic "pros/cons of dating* me are ironically both my mouth" post but with the amendment of "*knowing me" and in reference to the fact that he just speaks before thinking

it's truly tragic bc honestly if he spent one more second considering something before saying it, he'd save himself and others

but, majority of the time, he'll just talk then lag for a moment as if his brain is just now picking up on what his mouth has done and realize owait that came out wrong i'm sorry holdon—

like bOY just ??? i'm begging you for a crumb of discretion

[valinoar]

i have a problem and it’s called lack of moral compass when it comes to hot characters i like

[sailor-cerise]

I trusted that some of my extended family was accurately representing their COVID precautions etc. and ate an indoor meal with them unmasked.

After I tested positive, I was told the truth: that when they say "Aunt and Uncle had COVID but haven't had any symptoms for several weeks and have been testing negative" actually meant "Aunt had symptomatic CoVid but uncle did not, and so he never took any tests despite staying with her. Also, he hasn't been vaccinated in over a year, unlike the rest of us."

You know why they didn't tell me? They were afraid I wouldn't come.

And you know what they said when I caught it?

"see, it's not so bad, is it?"

Actually it is. Fuck you.

I was fortunate to get my hands on Paxlovid the day I tested positive (where the doctor said it's "people like you [with asthma] that I'm worried about right now"), and was at the peak of my vaccine effectiveness, and I was able to take a full 5 days off of work, so my acute symptoms were pretty limited, thankfully. My partner and I isolated/masked and he didn't catch it.

But it took what was left of my stamina and threw it in the fucking trash. Over a month later and I'm definitely not recovered. I don't think it qualifies as long covid yet but this sucks.

If I had caught it in other circumstances, it wouldn't change the fact that it sucks, and just because someone catches CoVid doesn't mean someone did something wrong: it's pretty damn good at infecting people.

But I'm so. SO. Angry. They took my choice away from me by lying. I'm also angry at a lot of other things, like the government neglect and bad communication etc. that lead to this, but I've been angry at those other sources for years now. It's shitty and fucked up but it's not this personal betrayal I feel.

They are right: I wouldn't have gone. And then I probably would not have caught CoVid.

And they lied to me.

[tonycries]

Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally. 

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could. 

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead. 

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above. 

Dammit. 

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless? 

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow. 

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head. 

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?” 

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now. 

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was. 

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all. 

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms. 

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow. 

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on. 

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly. 

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue. 

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow. 

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors. 

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?” 

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door. 

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless- 

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap. 

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-” 

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them. 

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter. 

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age. 

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one. 

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real. 

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?” 

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too. 

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day. 

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter. 

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then. 

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know. 

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-” 

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.” 

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him. 

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.” 

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you. 

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed. 

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but. 

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?” 

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did. 

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-” 

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!” 

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you. 

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold. 

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.” 

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away. 

Gojo Satoru was deathly still. 

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary. 

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you. 

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid. 

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-” 

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too. 

Unmistakable. 

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away. 

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him. 

It was him. Alive. 

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion. 

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-” 

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue. 

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss. 

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy. 

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions. 

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure. 

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.” 

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane. 

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric. 

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist. 

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip! 

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all. 

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds. 

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs. 

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”  

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing. 

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit. 

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.” 

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths. 

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones- 

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance. 

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there. 

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–” 

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now. 

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better. 

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach. 

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away. 

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable. 

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation. 

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager. 

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this. 

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs. 

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared. 

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you. 

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.” 

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.  

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length. 

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows. 

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”  

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy. 

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock. 

“Spit on me.” 

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes. 

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot. 

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside. 

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode. 

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure. 

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet. 

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful. 

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins,  “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[glimpsesofeuterpe]

i got a crazy(?) idea about .... commissioned exchanges(?)- trade(?)— you know; giving digital stuff and getting digital stuff but it's not нфт scheme

i give you my steam login —> you send money to my steam account —> i draw your blorbo you are getting new digital artworks —> i am getting new videogames ??? did anyone else ever try this? anyway feel free to steal this idea lol

(sending money to steam ru wallet via russia was partly banned even before you know what, and nowadays it's fully banned unless you send money from any other country)

[squipa]

let me shatter into you

— aka jason knows better than to let anyone get away with hurting you

———

your eyes trace the brown-yellow bruise forming on your wrist, the consequence of some asshole on the street too drunk to remember it isn’t polite to grab pretty girls. you would’ve let it go, really, it’s gotham, this kind of thing happens. unfortunately for the poor bastard, he had the misfortune of forgetting his sense in front of jason todd.

you try to hide the bruise before your boyfriend can see it, sliding the tarnished patch of skin under the sleeve of your jacket with haste— but he catches it anyways. of course he does. you can faintly see shocks of green lightning crackling in his ocean blue eyes, a precursor to the white hot rage stemming from his chest to the rest of his body.

you gently squeeze his arm, noting how tense the muscles in his bicep are. you know jason. you know he loves you differently— like you’re something fragile. he worships you, taking care of you like you’re a marble statue and he’s terrified of finding cracks. so something as small as a bruise, no matter how tiny or how minor, it makes him lose control.

he gently removes your hand from his arm, pressing a chaste kiss against your bruise. “why don’t you go back to that café, yeah? i’ll join you in a minute.” he says, looking down at you with a soft smile. if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he’d completely gotten over the situation, happy as a clam.

but you do know him, and you know that the way his shoulders are tensed and his free hand is fisted in the pocket of his jacket means that he’s enraged.

“jay—“

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, giving you a gentle smile. “please, baby. i don’t want you to see this.”

you should stop it. you should try. but he’s looking at you like that and your morals suddenly become incredibly loose. you hesitate, remembering the waves of repulsion you felt moments ago when that idiot bastard yanked you towards him. “just… don’t hurt him bad.”

jason nods, turning you around and guiding you forward, watching until you turn towards the cafe before he focuses his attention on the man, who is still too piss drunk to comprehend how badly he had fucked up. you hear jason before the door fully closes behind you, an echo of “so you think that’s how you should treat a woman?”

he’s terrifying. that drunk idiot must be terrified.

and he’s yours. scary dog privileges and all that. it makes you feel warm, safe, loved, protected— you’re irrevocably in love with that. with him.

he comes back in a few minutes, maybe fifteen? the wait stretched on for hours in your mind. his knuckles are bloody, but none of it is his. he cleans up in the bathroom before sliding next to you on the cushioned side of your half-booth, wrapping an arm and your shoulder, breathing you in like a man starved.

“he’s fine.” he says quietly, so only you can hear it. “just made sure he learned to keep his hands to himself.”

you close your eyes, leaning into him, into his warmth. you don’t say anything— you don’t have to, the way you bury yourself against him is admission enough. his arms wrap around you and the bruise fades back into your skin. your heart beats with more love than you thought it capable of producing, your chest swelling like it’s about to burst.

you press a gentle kiss against his chest and everything makes sense again.

———

it’s always when i say i’m not gonna write that inspiration strikes

[styrofauxm]

Honestly, I am pretty frustrated by the "haha why would anyone hate ace people" responses to Rowling's tweet.

Don't get me wrong, the support is nice. But if you want to be an ally, you have to do so on our terms, not yours. And that means actually engaging with the aspec community, not just posting positivity every now and again. And what those responses highlight to me is what I've known for a while; you guys only support aspec people when it's easy and convenient.

It's easy to support aspec people when it's J.K. Rowling being awful again. It's easy to support us when it's just reblogging an "aspec people are queer" post.

But what about when we are talking about amatonormativity and the relationship hierarchy? When we are discussing the enforcement of compulsory sexuality? When we are pushing for greater awareness and support for aspec identities that are not asexuality or aromanticism? When we are criticizing terminology that you use but harms us? Because I can tell you right now, I rarely see allo people engage with those posts.

Why do people hate asexuality (or any other aspec identity)? Because it challenges the societal norms that benefit them. And that is uncomfortable and scary. So they turn to hate and oppression in order to assure that the changes we push by just openly existing never happen.

That means that to be a good aspec ally, you can't just make a positivity post every now and again, and you can't just laugh about how stupid aphobes are. You have to openly challenge the societal norms that harm us, even if they benefit you. Including but not limited to:

The idea that romantic and sexual attraction is the default state of being (amatonormativity)

The idea that a romantic, sexual relationship completes a person

People in marriages receiving special privileges and benefits

The idea that platonic, familial, etc. attraction are default states of being

The idea that not feeling some form of attraction must be compensated for through another form of attraction

The idea that love (not just romantic) is inherently morally good, while not feeling love is inherently a moral failing

The idea that any one form of relationship is inherently more important or deeper than any other (relationship hierarchy)

The idea that any one thing makes someone human

The idea that not having sex is shameful or infantile

The idea that having sex without romantic love is callous

Gendered divides of sexual and romantic attraction

Other aspec people please feel free to add on/challenge any of this. Allo (not aspec) people please feel free to ask questions.

Additions:

Addition from @blkaroculture

Addition (in tags) from @fluffytimearts

Addition (in tags) from @cjreblogsthings

I've placed some resources for learning more about these topics under the cut.

Amatonormativity:

[PT: Amatonormativity:]

1. Amatonormativity Coining

2. Introduction to Amatonormativity

3. Challenging Amatonormativity

4. Effects of Amatonormativity and Compulsive Sexuality on Asexual and Aromantic College Students

5. Effects of Amatonormativity On Black, Polyamorous Men

6. Essay on Amatonormativity From a Aroallo, Loveless Perspective

Marriage Benefits:

[PT: Marriage Benefits:]

1. Article about Singlism and Marital Privilege

Other Aspec Identities:

[PT: Other Aspec Identities:]

1. Aplatonicism

2. Afamilialism

Loveless:

[PT: Loveless:]

1. Loveless articles on the AUREA website

2. Essay on Amatonormativity From a Aroallo, Loveless Perspective (repeat from Amatonormativity section)

3. Follow-up Essay on Lovelessness and Aroallo Antagonism

4. Results of a Survey of Loveless People (part 2 is linked instead of part 1 as part 1 is mostly demographic information)

5. Guide to Writing Loveless Characters (it focuses on fictional characters so should not be taken as a catch-all for real people, but it still has a ton of good information about lovelessness and loveless antagonism)

Compulsory Sexuality:

[PT: Compulsory Sexuality:]

1. Effects of Amatonormativity and Compulsive Sexuality on Asexual and Aromantic College Students (repeat from Amatonormativity section)

2. Breakdown of Compulsory Sexuality

Relationship Hierarchy vs Relationship Anarchy:

[PT: Relationship Hierarchy vs Relationship Anarchy:]

1. Relationship Anarchy Coining

2. Breakdown of Relationship Anarchy

3. Issues Presented by the Relationship Hierarchy

Oppression:

[PT: Oppression:]

1. Aphobia Masterpost

2. Asexual History and Oppression

3. Asexual Theory 101

Miscellaneous:

[PT: Miscellaneous:]

1. Research on Aromantics

2. Ace in the UK Research and Activism ft. Yasmin Benoit

3. Asexual History and Oppression (repeat from Oppression section)

4. Asexual Theory 101 (repeat from Oppression section)

Books and Video Essays:

[PT: Books and Video Essays:]

An Ace Discourse Retrospective by Jenny Geist

Ace: What Asexuality Reveals about Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen

Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown

[thalwri]

STUFF ME!

synopsis: your mission to collect intel on an auction seems to be going well until sylus catches an unexpected jealous streak.

warnings: porn no plot, couch sex, creampie, super loud possessive sex

wc: 1,2k

sylus was not a jealous man. he wasn’t.

he knew himself as a well assured person without much that could deter him. he knew you were capable of handling yourself well in any situation and that you were loyal to him just as he was to you.

but for some reason he couldn’t figure out why he felt a small agitating tick in his neck when he watched your flirt with an auctioneer to gather information for him. the way you smiled at him, the fact that his grimy hands touched you on your arm, his mere presence within your vicinity– it was maddening.

and that was why– just a floor above the auction hall in your hotel suite– he was balls deep inside you.

you hadn’t even managed to reach the bedroom before your clothes slipped off, your lips were attached to each other, and your hands wandered all over to places only you two had the privilege of touching.

your nails were deep enough to make sylus’ back bleed for how hard he was ploughing into you. his face was buried in your pretty breasts, swollen with arousal and slick from his tongue sucking harsh love bites onto you, bounced with each slap of your hips snapping together.

“sy– wait–“ you hiccuped but your pleas fell to deaf ears. you were overstimulated, overwhelmed and yet so hungry for more.

that relentless goal to drill his cock into you and stuff you until you were only capable of saying his name drove you insane. you didn’t think he’d get this jealous. you didn’t even know it was possible.

“i didn’t like– ah– how he was looking at you.” halfway through the route to painting you with his cum for the second time, sylus’s jealousy had long faded. now he was just relishing in enjoying you– enjoying the process of bringing you to exhaustion just from pleasuring you.

he gave your lips a long sloppy kiss, imagining torturing your clit with his tongue and feeling your walls tighten around his fingers. he knew how much you loved it, and he loved seeing you squirm. your tongues swirled and bumped, leaving you both so wet and hot.

“wanted– fuck, sy– wanted you to–“ you were babbling at that point reaching orgasm number three, all while feeling empty because he decided to punish you by cumming on you instead of deep inside knowing how much you loved it. he was being so, so cruel. leaving you so soaked with your only way of leaking on him is with your own slick and the ring of cream decorating his thick cock.

your back arched just as he bullied his tip consistently at that deliciously vicious pace right on your sweet, sensitive spot. and yet, it felt so tender at the same time. his lips peppered your skin like butterflies tickling your skin, his thumbs massaged your hips while his grip tightened in the gradual slip to lose control. 

“so warm,” his hips pounded into yours at your favourite angle to the point where his heavy sacks were slapping your skin, making that familiar wet plap! plap! plap! noise with the squelches of your soaked pussy being rammed into. “you looked so good tonight, sweetie.”

you couldn’t do anything other than moan out, clawing your nails on his back, fruitlessly sucking on the muscle of his shoulder to not be so loud. the walls weren’t that thick and if room service came by to deliver the meals you had preordered earlier that night, they’d hear the most obscene sounds imaginable. 

the most lewd cries and babbling rambles escaping your pretty lips.

“gonna– gonna cu– god, please sy!” you whined as your walls clenched around his cock for the nth time that night. if your teeth weren’t clamped onto his shoulder you wouldn’t have seen him almost vibrate from the feeling of your pussy almost sucking the cum right out of him. 

“don’t worry– f-fuck–“ he moaned, slowly drawing back to plough his cock back into your weeping cunny. now he was just being mean. his eyes were slowly rolling back as he neared his edge. “ ‘m close too.”

it was just too good to pull out, too good to torture you more and more when he could sink deep in you nice and snug and decorate your walls like a fucking picasso. he just knew that image would beat any form of art. and that was just a loud reminder of how he was completely at your mercy. everything you wanted, he would give.

if his eyes could form heart shapes, he’d be the most love drunk, pussy drunk sucker that would do anything and everything for you. he wanted to spend hours tending to your needs and desires and satiating your insatiable greed for him.

his hand reached down to your aching clit to mercilessly rub circles and pinch at it like his favourite toy. a whimper slipped through your lips from the friction of your wetness between your clit and his fingers. if his relentless pounding wasn’t enough to tip you over the edge you were sure the stimulation to your raw bud would make you pass out.

your babbles turned into complete incomprehensible nonsense mixed with your lewd, slutty moans sounding like a symphony to sylus, just enough to give you one final thrust to bring you to an intense, explosive climax.

a hoarse cry ripped from your throat as your head threw back from the sheer pleasuring force, driving you into a pleasure-fuelled craze. not seconds after, thick hot cum spurted into you like a current washing into a shore.

your fluttering cunny took his seed squeezing around his cock to milk all of it out of him until he shot countless blanks. sylus continued to pound his cum deep into you, fucking you both through your orgasms.

felt so fucking good– so disrespectfully raw and nasty that you felt your stomach tighten and your hips buck against his, squelching the excess cum all over the couch. 

as the thrill began to ebb away, your breathless pants evened out. you moved your hands to stroke sylus’ back in bliss, kissing all the areas you brutally marked and bit him. sylus gently returned the gesture with his massages around your hips, cock still hard, twitching and throbbing, leaking his cum into you.

“i got intel,” you murmured. he groaned into your neck, and indication for you to say more. “the auction’s a dud. the weapons are all rip offs.”

a deep chuckle rumbled into your skin. “knew it.” his grip on your hips tightened as he readjusted his position on the couch to throw your legs onto you before trapping you beneath him with his cock twitching with fervent desire.

“good job, sweetie,” he pecked your lips with satisfaction then kissed you again, swiping your swollen lips with his tongue. “i think i’ll take care of getting intel from now on.”

it was safe to say you weren’t going to go back to that auction. or leave the suite until you were stuffed to the brim.

a/n: lemme feed you guys some good straight up smut

[catdia]

Sevika with a Chubby S/o

Sevika loves bigger women, something about round tummies and thick thighs makes her go wild

calls you her peach because your nice and juicy

runs her fingers along your stretch marks, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh

chronic ass slapper and biter

uses your belly as leverage to fuck into you with her strap

constantly tells you that she wants to get you pregnant if she could

that you’ll make a great mama for her children

Sevika is much leaner and muscular, so whenever you get the chance you trace her abs with your finger tips

amazed by her raw powerful body you get an excuse to make her move furniture or heavy boxes

Silco adores you, so does Jinx. he asks Sevika how are you doing and genuinely cares about you (especially when you brought cookies for his daughter). because he has seen first hand what your relationship does to Sevika

got into a pretty nasty fight? Sevika punches his goons half to death. and looks even scarier than ever before

you patched up Sevika’s poncho after it got snagged on a broken window? he could almost see a sliver of a blush on her cheeks

his right hand woman has no idea the effect you have on her does she?

Sevika even toned down drinking and smoking

“my lady chews my ear off if I smell too much like a drive bar.”

you call her beautiful as you kiss her countless scars and rub the shoulder of her mechanical arm

“i’m everything but beautiful, doll.”

something primal takes over her as she sees how different your bodies are. you so soft and plush, her’s hard and brutal.

treats you like an absolute princess. buys you what ever you want. gives you what ever you want.

you are the one that cuts and styles her hair. she even asked you to shave her bald once and you had a heart attack.

Sevika plays dirty in card games. for every round she wins you take off a piece of clothing. one time she left you completely bare and you were pissed because you saw her cheat more than once.

ate your fat pussy out as a form of sorry

when she tells you to sit on her face, you SIT on her face

no “I’m too heavy” bullshit. if she couldn’t handle a little weight on her then she wouldn’t have the privilege of calling you her woman

and have you seen her?! Sevika is a tank. she can certainly handle herself (and you) more than anything

sleeps nude, with her chest pressed against your back and always a hand on your lower tummy

walks around the apartment shirtless all the time. flexes her arm when she catches you staring

uses your arm fat as a stress ball. It “makes her think better”. her words not mine

you patch her up after rough deals, crying and yelling at her for being too reckless. so selfish

Sevika kisses you. nose running down your neck, smelling your sweetness. she hates seeing you in pain. especially if it was caused by her

“i don’t like it when you cry.”

[awearywritersworld]

megumi's teacher — gojo satoru x reader

tags/warnings: fluff. fem!reader. gojo beefing with an eight year old. 700 words.

ever since megumi started the second grade, it's been (l/n)-sensei this. (l/n)-sensei that.

gojo picks up megumi's favorite ice cream, only to be scolded by the young boy. "(l/n)-sensei's favorite flavor is strawberry, so that's my favorite now!"

gojo tries to help him with his math homework, and it's "(l/n)-sensei did it this way. that means you should too!"

gojo reaches down to tie megumi's shoes for him, before his hand is promptly smacked away. "(l/n)-sensei said big boys tie their own shoes!"

honestly, gojo is starting to feel a little jealous. megumi's known you for what? two months?

he's been raising megumi for the past few years, but does that earn him an ounce of the adoration the young boy seems to have for you?

apparently not, though he perseveres nonetheless.

he and megumi are spending the afternoon out in the city and they stop at a small bakery for lunch.

while megumi is distracted looking at all the sweets behind the glass counter, the bell on the door draws gojo's attention.

his eyes fall upon a pretty young woman. actually, you might just be the prettiest woman he's ever seen.

and of course, a smirk forms on his lips when he catches you looking his way. he's puffing out his chest, running a hand through his hair.

he's always had a certain effect on the ladies, and he's never been more happy about that until this very moment—

"megumi?" you call from a few feet away. the wide smile adorning your face makes you look even more radiant.

while gojo visibly deflates, megumi's head whips around at the speed of light. "(l/n)-sensei!"

oh.

gojo very quickly comes to understand why the boy is so enamored by you.

megumi launches himself at you, while you crouch to meet him with open arms.

"i'm so happy to see you!" he practically sings, clinging to your neck.

you chuckle at his enthusiasm. "i'm happy to see you too, 'gumi."

gojo clears his throat, hoping that megumi will take the chance to introduce you two, but he is completely ignored.

"what are you going to get? i'll buy it for you," he states proudly, despite having zero money of his own.

your gaze shifts to gojo for the first time, and having your attention even just for a brief moment takes his breath away.

"that's very sweet megumi, but that's alright." you ruffle his hair when he pouts at your words, standing back up. "who's this?"

"oh that's just gojo. don't worry about him," he states with a wave of his hand.

the white haired man gawks at him in response. the nerve on that kid! he silently decides megumi will be losing dessert privileges for a week. no, two.

you stifle a giggle before offering your hand to him and introducing yourself as megumi's teacher.

he repeats your name, taking satisfaction in the way it sounds rolling off his tongue.

"that's a pretty name," he compliments, trying to recover from megumi's dismissal. "heard a lot about you. in fact, the kid never shuts up about you."

this earns him a glare from megumi, but gojo is too preoccupied with the shy look that crosses your features to notice.

gojo insists on paying for your order, a show of appreciation for taking such good care of megumi in class. you chat with the pair of them for a little while longer before eventually excusing yourself.

"thank you again, gojo-san. i'll see you on monday, megumi!"

just as you're turning on your heel, gojo calls your name and you look back at him expectantly.

"when, uh," he struggles, scratching the back of his neck. "when do i get to see you?"

nice.

"oh! well, parent-teacher conferences are only a few weeks away! i'll look forward to seeing you then," you answer sweetly, misunderstanding the meaning behind his words.

you bid them goodbye once more and they both watch your figure disappear down the street.

megumi turns to look at gojo smugly. "weeks? that sounds like a really long time—"

"shut it, kid."

[kalims]

cupping their face

parts. one , two , three , four , five , six , seven

characters. savanaclaw

note. how about we ignore the last part being almost 2 years ago... on another note this is a small apology for azul's part in that future kid series! I'm almost finished with his!!

leona

expectedly does not have much cheek to squish. holding his face means you're more or less just feeling firmness under your skin, and despite his diet all the fat goes to his arms.

contrary to belief it's very easy to catch him in a moment where you could squeeze in a sneaky hold, usually when he's off napping somewhere.

what you do not know though, is that he's aware it's you. hence, why he doesn't bother to wake up.

others though... aren't treated quite the same. imagine, you almost got your teeth knocked out from accidentally stepping on his tail before, there's no way others would be spared!

his face has this certain pull that just compells you to touch and run your fingers across the skin. it's kind of like finding a very fluffy cat then getting enticed to pet it.

if he happens to be awake when you get bewitched by him to cup his cheeks, he only stares at you with one eye open and eventually returns to sleep.

if the telltale of his swaying tail wasn't enough, you're startled when you're pulled in easily to his side if you pulled away.

"why don't you put all that attention to somewhere else?" he comments gruffly, next thing you know you're running your fingers through his hair—albeit begrudgingly.

ruggie

out of all savanaclaw students, ruggie probably has the most chubby cheeks but honestly I don't really think chubby would be the right word!

yes, definitely more chubbier than other more scrawny residents of his dorm if you pinch his cheeks but he's sorta skinny and his face doesn't escape that.

ruggie is the most likely to simply sit still and let you hold his face with a wagging tail because he honestly can't pass up a free... massage?

he's not sure. all he knows that it feels pretty good to be under your affections.

probably backseating you on where to touch cause he's really feeling it, more so when you actually oblige him.

still. his cute face lacks up for all the lack of fat in it so it's still a great pleasure to be able to see his drooping ears and relaxed face.

"I ain't paying you for that," ruggie snickers when you palm his cheeks, leaning into the warmth. "don't go 'round doing this for the others though. they aren't so nice like me."

jack

lean. I mean, have you seen the guy? he might just be a tad more lanky than leona due to the fact he follows a more active lifestyle.

between juggling consistent physical exertion, healthy meals and participating in magishift practices... leona's sleep, eat cycle pales in comparison.

while you don't have the privilege of feeling what little fat is left over in his face, you do get the liberty of skimming your fingers through the defined bones of his face. very fun!

what might be more fun than that is his response, watching how he reacts is far more satisfying than the act of skin to skin contact.

while his tail is swaying at a steady, undeniably pleased pace, his ears are upright. occasionally darting from your face to glance around, decimating if there's anyone straying who could interrupt.

long story short he's putty if you do that. stands compliantly still, or lays still depending on where.

do it once and now it's embedded in your routine. he gets grumpy if you don't do that atleast once a day, be consistent about doing it at the same time everyday and he's happy.

"you remembered this time." jack cleared his throat after minutes of contemplating if it was worth it to speak through the warm silence. he attempts a smile at you, heart accelerating at the redness of his ears. "if you're finished.. I'm more than happy to return the favor."

[purerae]

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!PLAYBOY X FEM!READER

Valentine’s day Special! <3

warnings ;; yandere!playboy being a delusional freak (as usual), yandere behavior, MAJOR second hand embarrassment, slightest bit of angst (if you squint), crack.

╰────༺♡༻────╯

Valentine’s Day for Kieran was basically his second birthday. The rich boy never bought candy, why would he, when he could stock up for free just from today alone? His locker was overflowing with chocolates, candies, and love notes—notes that he didn’t even bother reading before tossing them straight into the trash. But the sweets? Oh, he made sure to keep those. Stuffing his bag full, he scoffed at the cheap, store-bought heart chocolates while setting aside the good stuff; the expensive ones, the homemade treats that probably took hours to make. Greedy. That’s all it was. Kieran was just greedy. But even with all the gifts, all the attention, all the adoration, it never really mattered—not until today. Not until he spotted one letter on his desk that actually made his heart skip a beat. Because this one? This one had to be from you. For the first time on February 14th, Kieran felt a genuine rush of excitement, something different from the usual smug satisfaction of being adored that just boosted his already huge ego. The envelope sat on his desk, neat and delicate, like it had been placed there with care—like it actually meant something. His fingers brushed over your initials written in beautiful cursive handwriting, slow and deliberate, his mind already running wild. Finally. You were finally giving in. He could already picture you, shy and flustered as you wrote it, your heart laid bare just for him. A love letter? From you? His sweet little obsession finally coming to her senses? He was grinning, twirling the letter between his fingers, taking his time, savouring the moment. Oh, you were so cute for this.

 He carefully opened the letter, fingertips tingling with anticipation. His heart was racing, his mind already running a mile a minute. What kind of sweet words did you leave for him? Were you confessing your love? Finally admitting that you couldn’t resist him any longer? God, you knew him so well! Every detail, down to the paper, the handwriting, the delicate way the envelope was sealed—it all screamed you. This was the first time that the suave playboy turned into a giggling high school girl, biting his lip to keep from grinning too wide. If he was just some regular guy, people would be throwing weird glances at him for nearly stomping his feet in excitement, but he’s Kieran, so no one does.

To be honest, all the girls around him loved it. They giggled amongst themselves, watching him act like a lovesick fool, finding it more endearing than embarrassing. Some of them seething in jealousy at the mysterious girl who got the school's renowned playboy all lovestruck like this. Man, pretty privilege was real. Any other man would’ve been clowned for this, but Kieran? No, Kieran could get away with anything—especially when he looked good doing it.

The white haired male just had to find you, had to catch a glimpse of his princess all shy and flustered from pouring out her emotions in this cute little letter. He was already going to force you into his valentines day plans-- but you, making the move first? Gosh, you never fail to surprise him. Kieran rushed around the school, finally found you hanging around the library. He waltzes over to your table, practically floating with confidence, that stupidly charming smirk plastered across his face. With an easy flick of his wrist, he spun the chair around, plopping down and draping his arms over the back like he owned the fucking place; the letter was in his hand, obnoxiously tapping it against his palm as he leaned in, way too close, eyes glinting with something dangerous beneath all that excitement.

“Sooo...” he drawled, looking at you up and down, voice smooth as ever, “...couldn’t resist me anymore, huh princess~?” the blue eyed male winked as he laughed boyishly, Though his words were condescendingly annoying, a glint of affection is laced in his orbs. 

You, the girl who just wanted some peace on this already lame ass day where you enviously stare at the lovey dovey highschoolers with, gaze up from your notebook as you stare blankly at him, forcing yourself not to immediately roll your eyes at the sight of the blue eyed playboy.  “Huh?” You blink once, and then twice at him.

Kieran scoffs out a laugh. Still so shy, bless your cute little soul. “The letter, sweetheart.” He waved it a little, like it was obvious. “Real cute of you, by the way. You always did have good taste.” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the pastel pink letter, squinting at it before looking back at him. “What letter? Dude what the fuck are you talking about?” tilting your head as you grimace at his stupid little smirk. Kieran let out a breathy laugh, tilting his head like you just said the funniest thing in the world. “Ahh, playing shy now? That’s adorable, really,” he mused, tapping the letter against his chin. “Didn’t think you’d get cold feet after pouring your heart out like this, but it’s okay, princess. I get itttt. Big emotions can be scary!” he says with a mocking pout, leaning in closer. He reached out, trailing a finger down your arm like he was so sure this was some flirty little game. Youre playing hard to get as always, its okay! He likes the chase. However, you cant back out this easily when he literally has the physical proof of your love-- no, infatuation towards him. “You don’t have to pretend, y’know. I already know it’s from you.” his other hand tracing the first letters of your first and last name that was engraved onto the envelope. 

But the way you just kept staring at him, utterly lost, was starting to poke holes in his fantasy. No. No, you were just messing with him. Testing him. Right? Rolling your eyes, you snatch the letter out of his hand, too tired to deal with whatever weird fantasy he had cooked up this time. With an exhausted sigh, you scanned the handwriting, flipping the letter over to really stare at the initials , and then—oh. Oh, this was actually hilarious. Your hand slaps your mouth as you stifle a giggle.

“Kieran,” you deadpanned, looking him dead in the eyes, “this isn’t from me. It’s from the other girl in our chemistry class. Y’know, the one with the same initials as me?” Silence.

Kieran just stood there, blinking, like his brain was trying to reboot. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, and for the first time all day, he didn’t have a slick response ready. You watched, unimpressed, as his expression went through about ten different emotions at once—confusion, disbelief, denial, a little more denial—before finally landing on something unreadable. “...what?” He freezes for a solid minute before letting out a light chuckle, rolling his shoulders back like this was no big deal. “Ohh, right. Of course. The other girl.” He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets, throwing on that easy, practiced smirk. “I knew that! I was just.. I was just joking, silly~!”

But inside? He was tweaking.

'What the actual hell. What do you mean it’s not from you? Then why the hell did it feel like you? Look like it was from you? Sound like you?' His heart was racing, but not in the good way anymore. His palms felt weirdly clammy. His eye twitched. 'No. No, no, no. This doesn’t make sense. This was supposed to be from you. This was supposed to be our moment. So why— who, who even is the other girl??? Has he ever even interacted with her??' Suddenly the heartfelt words that adorned the letter just seemed incredibly corny and cheesy to him. The bright pastel colours decorated along the paper blazed in his eyes, practically laughing at the delusional boy that stood before it. 

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “Uh-huh. Sure you did.” Kieran swallowed. Act natural. Act. Natural. The playboy opened his mouth, ready to spit out some smooth, damage-control comeback—but nothing came out. For the first time in his entire life, he had nothing. Just sitting there, frozen, swallowing the most brutal, humiliating reality check of his existence. And the worst part? You were just staring at him. Not even amused. Not even mad. Just tired and annoyed.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose like you were physically in pain just being near him. “I literally don’t have time for this. Happy Valentine's Day man.”  You say with a tight lipped smile, grabbing your stuff as you pat his shoulder. And with that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Kieran just stood there, gripping the letter so hard it crumpled in his palm. His ears were burning, his jaw tight, but his smirk? Still there. Bruised ego? Maybe. But shattered? Please. A mix-up like this wasn’t enough to shake him. You didn't straight up reject him, it was just a misunderstanding! It was all that stupid girl's fault for having the same initials as his dear soulmate! As if you could ever actually reject him.

No, no, this just meant you were still fighting it. Still playing your little games, still too stubborn to admit what you really wanted. Him. That was fine. He had all the time in the world to let you come to your senses. You’d see it eventually—how you were meant for him, how there was never any other option. And when you finally stop running? Oh, princess he’d be right there, waiting. Besides, there was always next year, and that time; he is certain that the only chocolates he’d be getting is from you.

a/n :: for some reason you guys looveee seeing kieran suffer so heres my early valentines gift for you all :p (maybe not you all but the three anons in my inbox LOL) purerae<3

[tsukimirecs]

eren yeagar // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

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