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#SO I WAS FORCED TO SEE WHILE RAMBLING IN THE TAGS
fistfuloflightning · 2 days
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I was thinking if we have liushang then we can have moshen and since SQQ is taken we have Binghe open so I propose bingfan gets thrown into the mix
(I just saw your liuhhang/moshen post while looking through the liushang tag)
🤣🤣 either you’ve seen my Bingfan tag or you know me too well! I’ve been a sucker for their dynamics for a while (and I’m incredibly allergic to Bingqiu of any variety so…yeah) And I am completely down for this au—tho I usually lean towards rogue cultivator!SY and/or SY adopting LBH, so I would be interested to see how this plots out esp when Cang Qiong finds out he’s half heavenly demon and his stepdad is also a demon. I can see Ming Fan being incredibly conflicted but ultimately choosing to follow LBH when he’s forced to flee the sect (and maybe stumbling into SY, who helps them?). I can see Liushang being the team chosen to hunt him down—unsure if this is transmigrated SQH or og!SQH, but either would be incredibly confused at the turn of events (for veeery different reasons lol). Cue a mass manhunt (esp once Huan Hua Palace gets involved when the OPM finds out LBH’s existence 😰) and the entire jianghu is turned upside down and certain skeletons get dragged out of the closet (ie Tianlang-jun’s wrongful imprisonment, SXY’s betrayal and death, etc) which SQH digs up for his own use against his enemies (…actually I’m starting to lean towards og!SQH, more of a toxic snake and I’d love to see his interactions with the righteous LQG hehe). I can only speculate a possible plot from here, since this au is getting out of hand lmao 😅
Apologies for the rambling but you made my brain start to gnaw on au possibilities which are my favorite 💕 Thank you!!
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lanshappycorner · 1 month
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Hi there! I had a thought come to mind and of course it’s mashle and especially about my favorite pair of brothers, wirth and orter. Like say orter is on a mission or whatever and he gets hit with like a reverse age spell or something and he gets turned into a little kid again and everyone is trying to get to come out of hiding and they need wirth to come get him. I kind of seem him kind of as a shy or quiet kid and is kind of stranger danger, but what do you think? It can even be vice versa and wirth becomes little wirth again. I dunno it’s something floating around my head and I need a fellow mutual. (Sorry if it’s so long)
Its okay !! I love long asks just go wild with it honestly (lots of text tho so I'm making my reply small font <3)
BUT YES!! Ive been thinking abt this for a while too, I also think orter would be a pretty quiet and cautious kid !! he is smart✨ I also think that he'd be shy and sweet around ppl he's unfamiliar w (if theyre not a threat to him), but with people hes closer to he might be a bit more snarky lol
Also i imagine that wirth is actually unfamiliar with this side of him because orter wasnt rly close to him growing up, and in his teenage-adult yrs hes never been on the other side of his brother's genuine wrath so (orter's sarcasm is reserved for his best friends and enemies)💀 he interacts with baby orter and hes like what the fuck who is this (<guy who has never been sassed by his older brother once)
Also I read this ask and desperately needed to draw it so take this too (ft. kaldo)
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natsmagi · 8 months
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sorry for making yet another textpost but i came across that post saying they dislike transfem natsume because he "canonically hates being perceived as a girl and tries to erase all sorts of memories related to that" and also went on to shame genderbends of him aswell. So, as someone who not only draws genderbends of natsume but is myself someone who is nonbinary and hates being perceived as a woman, i thought id offer my two cents
first of all; i think its important to note that natsume does NOT hate his childhood. in fact, hes quite happy that he had such an unusual upbringing!
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what natsume hates is being perceived as weak. thats why he was raised as a girl after all, it was his mother trying to protect him from evil spirits. he doesnt hate the whole "-chan" or "wearing dresses" thing because he has a hatred for womanhood, its because due to his upbringing hes now come to associate those things as being weak. he begs tsumugi to forget about it because that means tsumugi remembers natsume being weak, and natsume thinks tsumugi still referring to him as "natsume-chan" means he still sees natsume as weak. (iirc natsume did however once say that he is a little sad that he doesnt really know how to relate to young boys due to this in poltergeist, but i couldnt find the exact quote. either way that just adds to the complexity of natsumes relationship with his childhood, because while he is happy to be "abnormal" in that sense, it has left him lacking in some areas)
i have to ask though, should this conflict of his not be something we hope he overcomes? should we not want him to develop a healthy relationship with various gender expressions? should we not want natsume to overcome his belief that feminine things = weakness? i want natsume to reach a point where he can wear feminine clothing and not feel like some damsel in distress because of it. i want natsumes character to grow. i want him to develop a positive relationship with his gender because natsume DOES enjoy some more typically feminine things, like baking! he used to bake with his mom when he was little! and i want him to feel like he can indulge in that side of him without feeling insecure.....
i LOVE transmasc natsume, my primary hc for him is transmasc nonbinary after all, but with all these things considered, shouldnt people be allowed to headcanon him however they want? if they hear his story and negative relationship with femininity and how that resonates with them and they themselves are transfem, should they not be allowed to hc him as such too?
which brings me to my next point; my own personal relationship with gender and femininity. i was raised as a girl and i fucking DESPISED womanhood. i hated everything about it. i hated how i felt forced into a box i didnt want to be stuck in, and i hated how it felt like my whole life had already been planned out for me due to societal expectations, aswell as me needing to present a certain way. i was peak "tomboy" growing up, constantly wearing super baggy clothes and wouldnt even brush my hair alot of the time. but despite that i remained miserable. i frankly hated how i looked and would constantly dye my hair vibrant colors in an attempt to make me like myself a little more. it wasnt until i realized "wow, im actually not a girl at all" that i finally let go of believing i needed to look a certain way (and thus, defying it) and started to dress for myself. i started to dress in clothes that made me happy and feel pretty! alot of which leans feminine, but clothes doesnt have a gender, and how you dress doesnt define your gender either, but it can still be a bit scary yknow? especially since i dont want people to think of me as a girl, and drawing a bunch of femstars has really made me learn to love myself more in a funny way. i can put these characters in clothes i think are beautiful, i can explore the more feminine parts of me that i adore but dont want to express in public due to how i want others to perceive me, but it has also warmed me up to femininity even more. because femstars to me feels detached from the expectations of society because its not a real thing!! there are no canon femstars designs!!! i can do literally whatever the hell i want with it and its been so liberating to me!!
all this to say; i think it really sucks seeing the way this fandom treats transfem hcs and explicit genderbends, because like ive said before; they can truly be something so personal. you dont know why that person is drawing what theyre drawing, so its a little unwise to make assumptions based on ........ Well, whatever it may be. i know very well that women dressing the way society expects them to SUCKS, esp if you have personal ties to it, but you have to realize the issue isnt femininity, but misogyny.
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ctl-yuejie · 10 months
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these moments™️ in the Only Friends Trailer
#ofts#only friends#only friends the series#neo trai#force jiratchapong#book kasidet#khaotung thanawat#first kanaphan#mark pakin#okay - putting this in the tags because it is going to be rambly#(1) force's fuckboy smirk? yes. nailed it.#(2) neo absolutely giving me self-righteous hurt and livid at the same time? so happy we get to see him ACT#(3) khaotung and first just have incredible chemistry and since the kiss at the bar in the teaser i have been waiting for this - they are s#in tune and comfortable with each other that it translates to such tender intimacy and i cannot wait to get that paired with all the cruel#hings they will hurl at each other#(4) just neo giving it his all. he always has a good presence in shows but he really dominates here and while i don't know what is happenin#i like the energy he is bringing to this trailer. this is the guy who suggested kissing to force to see whether they would fit in the show#(5) neo and mark getting to play off each other: just the disbelief in mark's face - the shot feels so tender and raw. paired with neo#as boston looking like he also cannot believe what he is doing but with a determination of someone who thinks he can only be right and that#there is no turning back for him#(6) sadly gmmtv logo got in the way of the shot in the beginning of them in the car but i adore first's dimply smile and khaotung softly#looking at him with the kind of mischief in his eyes that says 'yeah#- i'm keeping him'#(7) iconic already but yeeting neo into the pool is fantastic and even better that book gets to do it#(8) love that this snippet of the pool side captures the seriousness alongside the pathetic-ness that seems to run through everyones relati#nships#and they are giving me mark pakin crying in a bear hug?? and khaotung also crying in a hug?
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daisyachain · 6 months
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Restorative or Transformative?: Homoerotic Subtext, The Closet, and Ciphers in Pop Culture. The nature of commercial art is that it’s sometimes bad and inconsistent. Notably it’s also misogynistic. One way in which audiences try to reconcile massive plot holes or gaps in character motivation is by reading secrets or hidden information into a plot.
Commonly, male characters are interpreted as closeted gay or bisexual to reconcile the absence of women from commercial narratives with the generally stunted and poorly-written male characters that form the focus on said texts. This reading has become especially common among a non-heterosexual milieu. Rather than transforming the original text into some radically different new form, this closeted interpretation seeks to make the original text stand on its own as a story rather than a Swiss cheese of dumb writing decisions.
This interpretation only works for a specific type of pop, usually genre fiction. Any story in which tortured male leads eschew women in favour of male-male bonds (because female characters are constantly killed off, written sparsely, or written out, because the production team keeps casting their male buddies, because actors demand to keep having scenes with their bros, whatever) can become a sounder structure if you put one of them in a closet.
The gay interpretation is the natural consequence of shoddy misogynistic writing from ventures like Supernatural, Naruto, all the biggest hits. It’s also the natural consequence of more benignly misogynistic writing like The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes or The Lord of the Rings, where women aren’t necessarily rejected but are simply absent from the worlds of the protagonists. When the emotional crux of the story falls on male-male interactions, this reads as romantic because society at large priorities (definitively heterosexual) romance as the pinnacle of human connection. Two forces are in conflict, the primacy of heterosexuality (read as: romance) and the primacy of men.
Anyway. All that is to say that the typical gay or bisexual reading of male characters in pop fiction comes from a very real place. But, in some places, that’s the default interpretation. Angst, insecurity, secrets, double lives, fatigue, disappointment, restrained passion, stunted personal growth, anyone living in the closet can tell you that it impacts and defines your whole life to know that you live in a way fundamentally incompatible with The Proper Way that life is structured around down to tax law and superstore prices (which assume a heterosexual nuclear family unit). Characters in fiction also tend to have personal problems because that makes them interesting and tasty.
If you’ve grown up on stories with the specific type of misogyny that can be papered over with a closeted interpretation of the male leads, carrying this interpretation over to any male character will make sense more often than not. Even a bit of angst or insecurity? Well of course that makes sense if a character is closeted.
Except that’s hurt a normal part of fiction, and sometimes the closeted interpretation takes away from the point of a character. If a male character is on another axis of marginalization, the closeted interpretation imposed by the slash reading community downplays or trivializes the effects of that marginalization in the plot by overwriting it with another type of marginalization. Alternately, sometimes a character’s heterosexuality is a part of the story. There are some sorts of critiques or investigations of misogyny or masculinity that don’t work if the character has an ‘opt out’ of the cisheteropatriarchal perspective. Not that gay/bisexual men aren’t except from misogyny, but misogyny masculinity and heterosexuality are so tightly linked that it sort of defeats the point if you interpret that character outside of heterosexuality.
All that is to say—the closet interpretation is a quick and easy spice to apply to the weaker parts of action-adventure genre fiction to make it taste better. It draws from a large enough sample of art that it’s pretty widely applicable. Because of that, it’s part of some people’s [my] default interpretation package just because the semi-dull macho show at least gets less dull if you imagine there’s a reason for there to be no girls besides simple hatred. That then forms its own problem where the interpretation that works with your average genre work gets then blanket-applied to all genre works and obscures the places where the closet interpretation doesn’t fix the work, and actually makes it less interesting.
#kelsey rambles#I’m as guilty of it as anyone.#just thinking about Johnny Storm and like. bisexual ass character. deeply bi guy. but.#what IF he’s just heterosexual. what then. wouldn’t that almost be…more interesting#if he’s Like That and not closeted? what twisty gnarled psychological torments would a good comic have to explain him#and on the other hand. that one post I saw about how miles/hobie totally misses the point that their relationship is about solidarity#spider-punk and spider-byte’s alliance with miles are the same thing and to read it as romantic erases the important part#and on a third hand. when speaking of miles’ story. the stupid fucked Bendis running joke/subtext with Ganke#to have Miles be gay would possibly take away from the messy and interesting part of his character that is being a person with nothing#to hide. a totally honest genuine straightforward kid who is forced to start a double life by an outside actor#but at the same time it’s dumb and a cop-out to throw in that much bait and that much of a genuinely charged tense friendship#and then go ‘lol jk. nothing to see here’#the other thing is the semi joke in atsv about ‘coming out’ as spider-man#the most important thing about Miles having to hide is his relatively precarious position as a black kid. he’s not afforded the leniency#that Peter Parker would expect if he got unmasked. Miles is more cautious because he is in more danger because he’s Black#so to paint that struggle with the gay brush is to disregard the character’s raison d’être. while also#using that sort of language and structure deliberately puts a gay lens over that character and ignoring that or kicking it to the side#feels a bit cheap. to borrow the look and not the substance#way too many tags and it’s past my bedtime. thesis statement is:#miles morales is a character whose history is fraught with plenty of real gay subtext and whose character struggles are entirely divorced#from any sense of gender performance. he’s subtextually bi but that’s got so little to do with his story that it feels almost wrong to read#that into him because there is so much other interesting stuff going on with him
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sameteeth · 2 months
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anyways, i do think its really interesting that chuuya figures out that dazai was putting pieces into place to get him ousted from the sheep like a month ahead of time... its also really interesting to consider WHY dazai did it and the implications it carries. dazai watches shirase and yuan pressure and guilt chuuya about "doing his part" for the sheep as a person with an ability, then immediately takes action to relieve pressure from chuuya
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which is kinda funny bc dazai at least in the short term is following what shirase is saying - dazai has the ability to help save the hostages, and he does lol. demon prodigy indeed. MORE IMPORTANTLY though. dazai recognizes that chuuya is being controlled by the sheep even though he is the leader. chuuya and mori make good comparisons here - this arc starts with mori bemoaning his responsibility as the boss of the port mafia, and we see chuuya consistently failing to do his responsibility as the leader of the sheep. he even denies the title of king, stating that it's only his ability that puts him above the rest. to digress a bit, i think this is partly why when chuuya joins the port mafia he so quickly submits to them - he is no longer the sole ability user, and thus the responsibility doesnt rely entirely on him to protect the group. something to be said here about the way bsd almost never touches on the ability user vs non-ability user dichotomy but ill save that. back to the main point. dazai takes it upon himself to free chuuya from the sheep. he acknowledges the limitations chuuya has to function under as the leader of the sheep and the weight of the responsibility he bears for no reason other than his ability
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but then! dazai forces chuuya into the port mafia to save him from the sheep ! doesnt that seem contradictory??? isnt that hypocritical? chuuya seems pissed about it!
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granted, I'd be pissed too if my friends stabbed me with a switch covered in rat poison then tried to gun me down. regardless, chuuya can see how dazai set him up to be outcast from the sheep without having to break the tie himself. chuuya is loyal to the sheep, even when they distrust him. But! this gives chuuya a chance to escape, even if it's to the port mafia. i think the important thing to focus on here is that the port mafia is an Actual organization made up of adults. the sheep are a bunch of kids, ones that are easily led. the limited pieces we see of them are shirase and yuan, who throw temper tantrums and try to clumsily manipulate chuuya when he doesn't listen to them. they admit to stealing alcohol from mafia-adjacent territory and just generally seem immature... because theyre kids. but what we see of the mafia is much different. mori is a strong leader because he is smart and rational. he thinks ahead. he, unlike chuuya, is the leader because he wants to protect yokohama, and understands the sacrifice necessary to do so. chuuya is the leader because no one could beat him in a fight. the port mafia offers a chance for growth (ignoring that these are children in the mafia ok play with me here) as a fighter and as a leader - chuuya becomes an exec when he's still a teenager i think (theres not a specific age anywhere i can find) and is a much more calm and smart fighter once he joins.
so it's good (play with me) that chuuya is able to join the port mafia. BUT he would never have been able to leave if dazai had not forced his hand. this paradox - the idea that chuuya obtains freedom from being forced to leave something he doesn't want to - is SUPER interesting to consider !! here i will dissolve into rambles. i learned about this paradox in the context of mary wollstonecraft and the vindication of the rights of women - wollstonecraft believed only educated people could truly be free, as they were not only free of oppression but also no longer slaves to their emotions, and were able to have opportunities and use their education for their own betterment. the situation with chuuya reminded me of this, because with the sheep chuuya had no one to rely on or to teach him, limiting his capacity for growth and ultimately his freedom. the sheep were reliant on him for protection, and feared him, but chuuya had everything to lose if he were to try and leave the sheep. he had nothing without them, and they needed him for his power. but they were beholden to their emotions, immature and uncertain how to actually get power. their primary motivators for action are retaliation - dazai mentions this when chuuya attacks him, and shirase and yuan mention this when they are urging chuuya to help them. but when chuuya talks to mori and koyo (<3) about their actions, both of them are much more forward thinking than that. mori is very cunning and sly, and koyo tells chuuya that even if things go south in the meeting she's taking him to to, they know how to move forward. chuuya's world has expanded beyond the sheep's limited gaze.
of course, he's still trapped in the port mafia, but if you REALLY want to discuss free will..... we'll be here all fucking night. free will is really hard to pin down and i always have to talk about determinism and its a lot to wrap ur head around and i just like drawing connections between stuff i like
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Oh I should do something with that toh/spider-verse art I made a while back
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artekai · 2 years
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This but Takuto and Kai about Fross
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arolesbianism · 2 months
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Remembered Wendy exists. Explodes.
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dangoulains-devotion · 2 months
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every time I have to wade through inane ship wars where people are willfully ignorant to the depth and facets of cloud strife's character, circumstance, and story just so I can find some cool screenshots or fanart my 'cloud is ace' agenda simply grows more potent out of spite
#rebirth literally said in bold letters he has multiple feelings. like humans do#and yet in the year 2024 i am still forced to see 'this ship was canon since 1997 unlike the other one'#do you have a brain that you use#are you capable of actually delving into the details of a character#without reducing them to barbie dolls that get smacked off one another#i just want to look at cool fanart man#dont even get me STARTED on how zack slots into all this#my boy has not haunted the narrative for you to go and ignore character developments like this#this is all coming out more blunt than i would normally try to write things#but brother i am so tired#i could write a whole post on how it is very real and normal for humans to feel affection for more than 1 person#and how it manifests in cloud and the whys#if the game itself is somehow not clear enough to you then you are simply choosing to close your eyes at that point#trying to act superior and objective about your ship while ignoring the material you claim to have gotten your Objective Facts™ from...#good gravy.#shipping is supposed to be a fun thing secondary to enjoying the content#not a primary objective to use it to argue with people#i would say peace and love on planet gaia but im sure some people would read it as peace and you can only love one person at a time forever#on planet gaia. haha.#anyway...... now that that's out my system i can be at peace again#shout out 2 my fellow multishippers who take this bountiful wealth of content and have fun with it#i think im gonna replay rebirth's story soon#want to see how much more i can pick out about new/updated approaches to characterization#rocket town will be very interesting in part 3 i think#yuffie too with wutai supposedly becoming a much more fleshed out thing#if this post somehow breaches containment:#if your first thought is to um actually me and whip out 'evidence'. i am not going to give you rhe time of day#because my rambling clearly went over your head and im not interested in 1sided discussion where i am being talked at rather than to#anyway have fun stop wasting time arguing and pls look forward to remake part 3 where i lose my mind over vincents waist. again#look what you did you raised my blood pressure enough to hit the tag limit. anyway peace and love on planet g-
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chuluoyi · 3 months
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✎ wedding anniversary
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- gojo satoru x reader
seven years of dating, two years of wedded bliss, and gojo is having his greatest existential crisis yet... all because this year, you apparently have forgotten the most important day of your lives
genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—heavy smut, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, slight breeding kink, crack, drunk, lovesick and possessive gojo (nanami is so very done with him), also fluff !!
note: back to chu's thirsting hour :') based on a fellow gojo fucker's very helpful brainrot (chiyo if you see this, hii!😗) pls give it some love bc this has gone through not showing up in the tags 5x already *sobs*
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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To this day, it was still beyond Nanami why you, his very sensible former classmate, would have Gojo Satoru as your husband.
“She... doesn't—hic!—care about m-me... anymore!”
But well, to each their own.
“Gojo—”
“Today is our—hic!—anniversary!”
This is exhausting. It had been 30 minutes ever since the blindfolded shithead started rambling his sorrows. “She is probably just busy, you don't have to—”
“I r-really thought—hic!—she would at least n-not forget it l-like that!”
“Please, stop this nonse—”
Satoru snapped his head so swiftly that Nanami was startled, pointing out an accusatory finger at his face. “You stop!—you don't understand, Nanami!”
The said man flinched, taken aback, before feeling the surge of irritation coursing through his veins.
Sure, Nanami would gladly admit that he didn't understand. He neither had the time nor energy to. It was beyond him that he was even entertaining this blubbering idiot at this time of the day, in a bar no less. How did he get roped into this in the first place?
Actually, he had minus interest in your marital affairs, but Gojo was latching onto him all day, rambling about how excited he was for this day for weeks now, until you gave him a call, saying you would be home late and disregarded his very open anticipation. You broke his heart to pieces, apparently.
Amidst his heartbroken musings, Gojo followed him to his frequented bar, where he proceeded to down multiple glasses without any supervision.
“Am I really t-that lousy? Can’t be it… I’m s-strong, d-dashing… rich—”
Nanami released a guttural sigh, messaging his temples. How could this idiot have no shame while spouting all of this?
“Will s-she… divorce me next…?” he abruptly blurted, eyes widening as saucers and full of clarity all of a sudden. Satoru firmly tugged at his suit and forced him to face him. “Nanamin…! S-she won’t divorce me, r-right?!”
Oh, to hell with it. Nanami couldn’t take this anymore. He was done and he had no patience to tolerate it any longer.
He shrugged him off, and pulled out his phone to dial your number. “Hello? Please, come pick your husband. He’s a public nuisance!”
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In fact, you didn’t forget your anniversary.
How could you? Satoru made it his point to drop hints about it almost every day, and you actually struggled to be indifferent about it because you also had things planned out.
A present—already taken care of thanks to your mail order of Rolex’s newest collection watch, and a treat—a two-tier mochi cake he had been staring at with literal stars in his eyes on your last date.
Which has become the problem. The bakery had mishandled your delivery and you had to wait for them to remake it. It was 8pm already and you couldn't help but worry. Satoru must be feeling utterly despondent by now, thinking you had forgotten a day that meant so much for both of you.
And so when you got a call from Nanami, you dropped everything to get him and told the bakery to arrange for the delivery tomorrow, because you knew... nothing good ever came out of Satoru getting drunk.
"I missed youuuu~! Dearest, darling— my universe!"
To Satoru, the everything around him was a blur of lights and hiccups when you came to retrieve him. Nanami was so eager to wash his hands off him, leaving you with a pointed grimace as if pitying you.
. . .
"A-are you going to—hic!—leave m-me?" Satoru slurred for the nth time now, stumbling inside your house with you propping him.
"For the last time, no, but I'm tempted to," you hissed, throwing him a glare. Your husband was a very unpleasant drunk because he wasn't even a drinker in the first place. "Satoru—walk properly!"
You managed to get him into your bedroom, where Satoru flopped onto the bed, dissolving into groans. You exhaled deeply and plucked the buttons of his shirt open, trying to get him change into his sleepwear.
"Ah... haaah," suddenly he caught your hand and placed it on his bare chest, his eyes blazing into yours, rambling, "Sweetheart—please. I c-can't live without you now... I'm sorry—I'm sorry for anything, or everything, I don't even know but—please don't hate me—"
"Satoru..." Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. Why was he this spooked? "I'm not leaving you, okay?"
"I promise you, I'll do better—" his voice was watery, as if his throat was clogged up. "I'll be better..." His voice then reduced into a whisper. The alcohol had stripped away his facade, leaving his raw emotions exposed.
Something inside you lurched. Throughout the nine years you have been with him, Gojo Satoru was always irritatingly self-assured, and so seeing him like this— so openly fragile, it did more than just churn your insides; it made you realize the depth of his feelings.
In that moment, you knew your reassurance meant everything.
"I'm not going anywhere, yeah?" you placed your other hand over his, offering him a genuine, soft smile. “Satoru, I’ve put up with your ass for more than nine years. So…” you shifted your eyes away, suddenly feeling embarrassed, before looking at him again. “I'm here... for you, always.”
His grip on your hand loosened slightly, but the intensity in his gaze didn't wane, and you would've laughed when he hiccupped next if you weren't feeling the overwhelming warmth in your chest.
But oh you wouldn't have expected it, because one heartbeat later, he yanked you down to the bed— crashing his lips against yours.
“Mmmph!”
He tangled his nimble fingers on your hair, and his other hand slipped inside your blouse, unclasping your bra in one flick. You let out a gasp, "Satoru—! "
Before you could even gasp, in the next second, he flipped you over— seizing your puffy lips once more. His hands now moved with more urgency, squeezing your breasts rather roughly, flicking your nipples with the pads on his thumbs.
And soon, far sooner than you thought...
"Who else gets to see you like this?" Satoru inquired darkly after you were naked under him, his voice low and deep. He was no longer that stupid husband of yours, rather the wanton man of your nightly wonders.
Without warning, he slid one of his fingers into your folds, probing your walls, and a gasp escaped you as you arched your back, throwing your head back on the sheets.
"No— one," your voice came in a breathless moan, still reeling. "H-how can y-you ask me—" Stretching you out even further, he entered another finger and you wailed, "Mmgh!"
He had always loved the sounds you made and how you were so pretty squirming under him like this. And before you knew it, his face was inches from your cunt, blowing hot air into your sensitive flesh.
"Tell me, who is the only person who gets to see you like this?"
Your eyes rolled back, words died on your tongue as his skilled tongue ran down on your drenched pussy. You instinctively tried to close your legs around his head, but he firmly held them apart.
"You." Panting, your mind racing to form coherent thoughts. You managed to mutter, "Only you... No one else—hah—just y-you...!"
He suckled on your clit hungrily then, rewarding you for your honesty. Squelching noises echoed around your marital bed as your arousal pooled around his fingers— you being so incredibly, irrevocably close to your release.
"Haaah, ngh—mmph!—Satoru, I'm a-about to—!" but then, in one cruel twist, he withdrew his digits, and your pussy throbbed at the loss.
You muffled your whines, feeling betrayed and irritable. "What—why—!?"
"Don't think that I'll let you cum anywhere else but my cock," he stated gallantly with an unusually stern expression, blue eyes narrowing as he assessed your wetness. Right in front of your eyes, his cock sprung after he let it out of his pants.
"Soon, you'll feel me..." Your eyes shamelessly followed his long length as he placed it on your lower belly. "...there."
Everything about him using that taunting tone turned you on, and true to his words, he soon slid himself inside you. He let out a low grunt at the feeling of how your walls clenching around him and you whined, the pain of being stretched making you almost sob.
"Shit, hold still," Satoru groaned, pushing down on your belly. "You're so tight— relax for me a bit, sweetheart? You're doing so, so fucking well."
His words went through you, and you could feel yourself opening more to ease his intrusion. Next thing you knew, he was buried deep inside you, and his gaze met you once again.
"Are you okay?" he asked between breaths, voice softening. When you nodded in response, he planted a kiss on your chest.
"I love you," he said in a rasp, eyes piercing your soul. "I’ll give you anything. My body, heart, soul—you can have it all. In return, you just have to promise one thing." His eyes, now clearer, deprived of the earlier haze, boring straight into you like an arrow.
"Don't ever leave me."
"I won't," you replied resolutely, catching your breath. Your own eyes shone with your love for him, making it even. "For as long as I live, it's going to always be you."
Satoru gazed at you as if you were his skies and stars, and before he started pounding into you, he vowed—
"Then I'm yours."
And soon, you were a nothing more than a frenzy, hot mess. You couldn’t help the nasty moans flying out of your lips as he kept barreling into you. His grunts reverberated throughout the room, rutting you through your hazed mind.
And the way he was whispering provocations into your ear, pushing you further into ecstasy at the mere thought of—
"What if... I get you pregnant this time?" A thrust. "Just imagine—" Another. "My wife, all round—" Another. "—just because I—am doing this to her—!"
You were barely registering his rambles at this point. Your walls clenching around his girth impossibly tight and you let him claim you as his thoroughly, your legs locking around his waist.
"Ah—ngh, mmrgh! Satoru—more!"
This wasn't you, the usual you wouldn't be this daring— but even you'll be more than forgiven tonight.
Satoru's jaw tightened at the sheer pleasure you brought him, his ego stroked, and his heavenly eyes darkened as you begged and dug your nails into him. He was so close, he could feel it. Your moans was enough to lead him to cum right here and there.
But before that, he was determined to show you, to whom you truly belong.
“My wife.” He growled. A thrust.
“Mine.” You gasped. Harder.
“All mine.” Deeper.
"Yes," you cried. "Yours— all yours, so please—!"
And three deep thrusts later, Satoru finally busted his load inside you, spurts after spurts painting your wall white— filling you up so hard it was spilling out. And your orgasm followed in immediate effect along with your hitched screams of pleasure, before the two of you collapsed on each other, a mix of groans and sweat, entwined in cum, bliss and exhaustion.
"Love you, sweetheart," you heard him murmuring in your ears, enveloping you in a warm embrace as you drifted into sleep.
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Next morning, you were awoken to soft hums in your ears.
"Oh, the sleeping beauty awakens." The first sight you saw was Satoru's cheeky grin, and him pecking you on the lips. "How are you?"
"Mmm..." you winced, feeling the slight twinge between your legs. He noticed it and gently untangled himself from you, fingers tracing your waist. "Don't move around too much, you're going to bother my little swimmers, you know."
It took you a few seconds to realize what he meant and you glared at him. "You horny weirdo. I just woke up."
“Heh heh heh~ Don't take it too seriously! I was just trying to get you to smile.” He pinched your cheeks and then mused, “Well, I'd actually be surprised if we made it last night...”
"You're not funny," you retorted. You had been feeling weird and that was when you saw it.
The dazzling, massive diamond ring. On your finger. Wait, is that Graff's Tribal Collection?
"Satoru..." you mumbled, lifting your hand in shock, your eyes fixed on the piece that likely cost more than your monthly wage. "You..."
"Do you like it?" his smile was so easy and light, adoring the sight of you. You were so adorable, marveling at the little gift he got you.
"What do you mean—" you stuttered, turning to him. "Are you crazy?! I can't wear something this expensive—!"
"But that's exactly my point. It's a gift, meant to spoil my wife."
"You are mad," warmth flooded your cheeks, your heart fluttering with joy. You were unbelievably giddy because your husband really knew the way to your heart, yet you'd be damned if you let the excitement show in front of him.
He raised an eyebrow, his expression souring, and with a mocking tone, he accused you, "Actually, you're the one who's gone mad. I can't believe you forgot our anniversary!"
"I didn't, you dummy. I was out picking up your favorite mochi cake before you got yourself wasted." You turned away from him, shyly. "And I got a gift for you too."
"Oh? Oooh! Really!? What is it?!"
He was back to his silly self again, and you could only shake your head, wondering how the sex god from last night and this fool was the same person.
Yet, you felt nothing but love. Your heart couldn't help but melt for him when you saw that carefree grin.
And you couldn't be more grateful to the stars for bringing him into your life.
. . .
Oh, and little did you know that his little swimmers also made the goal last night— as three weeks later, you found yourself clutching the first of your pregnancy tests, which was showing a positive.
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sttoru · 6 months
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‘you finally got the results to your recent exams back — all which were passing grades. when breaking the happy news to your boyfriend, he comes up with a way to reward you for your hard work.’
☀︎|tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). fluff & smut. kinda porn with plot, kinda not. soft dom satoru; vanilla, praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, p in v -> unprotected, body worship kinda, spooning position, little bit of breast play, mention of premature ejaculation kinda, creampie, size difference, reader gets called ‘princess, baby, pretty, adorable’. reader wears a short skirt. not beta read because i’m tired.
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“oh my god!” you almost drop your phone from the pure shock you just experienced. your hands shake as you look at the unexpected results reflected on the small screen.
satoru, who was minding his business in the kitchen, hurries into the bedroom the moment he hears your shriek. he was prepared to help you out with whatever had caused you to yell so loudly, though was surprisingly met with your beaming smile;
“oh, what got my princess so happy?” he asks with a grin of his own, stepping into the room. his gaze darts from the phone in your hand to your face and back again. satoru chuckles as you suddenly run up to hug him. he joyfully reincorporates the embrace; your happy mood being contagious.
you giggle and babble on about how you passed your two exams and how you ‘didn’t think you’d be able to attain such high grades’. your boyfriend hums and strokes your hair whilst you ramble, kissing the top of your head with a proud expression, “as expected of my smart little girl. i’m super proud of you.”
there goes the praise again — making your heart flutter in ways that no one else had done before. you sigh in content and bury your face into his chest. satoru pulls back after a moment, tenderly cupping your face so he could look into those pretty eyes of yours.
you’re his weakness. he knows you are — he’s always known you are, yet that adorable look on your face whenever you gaze up at him through your eyelashes never gets old.
that same look also makes him want to do unspeakable things to you; things that would have you crying from pure pleasure. you deserve to be shown what a true man would do for you out of love — what a true man like your lover would do to you for your own satisfaction and pleasure.
“i think my pretty girl deserves a reward for doing so well on her exams,” satoru whispers, slender fingers trailing from your jaw to your neck, brushing over your collar bone, “would you like that? a reward just f’you.”
you weren’t born yesterday. you knew exactly what he was indicating. you could tell by his loving yet lustful gaze, his fingers that sensually dragged along your skin and his tongue that darted out to subtly lick his lips. as if he was preparing to devour a five star meal.
which he was.
“f—ngh, satoru!”your legs were wrapped around his head, his mouth and tongue working their magic on your sopping cunt whilst his hands were holding you down by your hips. satoru hadn't wasted a single second after you agreed to his proposal. he instantly lifted your skirt up, pulled your panties down to your ankles and dived right between your legs.
your thighs were clamping down on his head—almost forcing him to continue pleasuring you. not that your lover minded; he'd gladly do this again and again if he could. satoru leaves sloppy kisses all over your pussy, drenching it in not only your own bodily fluids, but his own saliva as well.
“mm, a little needy, aren't ya?” he mutters whilst softly kissing up and down your slit. he was admiring both the sight and the noises — your back arching, hips stuttering and voice shaking with need. the older man certainly did enjoy the view of your cute little face contorting with pleasure each time the top of his tongue teased your clit, “yeah, c'mon - let me see your face while i eat you out.”
you hesitated, however eventually removed your hands that tried (and failed) to hide your flustered expression. satoru lets out an almost inaudible whine at the revelation; his cock begging to be freed from its confines. he wanted to fuck you into oblivion, but today was your day. he longed to satisfy your own desires first.
satoru was nasty with it too. the unmistakeable, erotic and wet noises of him slurping up your juices mingle with your moans and whines. the white locks of his hair brush against the insides of your thighs and right above your clit—tickling you in all the right ways and adding to the pleasure you were receiving.
“fuck,” the older man curses under his breath and the warmth against your pussy makes your lower body twitch. his big hands squeeze around your hips, silently warning you to stay still so he could properly enjoy you, “you're gonna make me cum before i can make you finish.”
his words were true. satoru could get off from simply watching and hearing his girl enjoy herself. he has no shame in admitting that fact; he can't help it when you’re this incredibly gorgeous. he grinds his crotch against the soft mattress whilst his mouth continues to eat you out in a painfully slow yet tender manner.
“t-toru, g'nna cum.” you whimper and try to grind your cunt against his tongue in search for that last push that would send you over the edge. your high-pitched voice sounding so extremely whiny sealed the deal for your boyfriend. he pulls his head away from your tingling cunt - which is a second away from reaching its orgasm - and sits up on his knees.
satoru smirks once he hears your mumbled complaints. one large hand settles on top of your head and gives your scalp a few relaxing rubs whilst the other hastily undoes the zipper of his pants. he tilts his head to the right, glancing down at your squirming form with a lopsided grin, “d’ya want another treat, princess?”
of course, you nod. you were aching for that release that'd been building up in your lower stomach— needing to reach that long awaited climax. your eyes follow satoru's movements as he pulls his pants down. again, as painfully slow as possible.
“just a nod? tha’s all i get?” your partner pouts, nonchalantly revealing his lengthy cock for you to feast your eyes upon. he sighs dramatically before trailing two slender fingers down to your cunt, gathering your slick and using it to coat his tip. the pre-cum mixes with your own fluids and the erotic sight makes your mouth water, “i know for sure that my smart little girl can use her big words to get what she wants — let me hear ‘em.”
whilst you gather your thoughts and words, satoru lays down behind you, helping your body onto its right side. you’re facing the wall and thus couldn’t see that cocky expression he had on. his arms pull your back flush against his chest, positioning your hips the right way and lifting one of your legs up properly.
“p-please, i need to have you inside me. can’t wait any longer, ‘toru.” you manage to beg in the end. the warmth radiating from your lover’s body from behind you only increases your sinful craving. he teases you by kissing your nape whilst his hands get rid of your top—fingers then immediately fondling your tits.
his husky voice whispers a 'good girl' in your ear and that’s all you got as an answer before you felt his cockhead prod at your entrance. satoru hisses at just the slightest of contact—not sure if he could last long this time. he feels like he will explode the moment his tip glides inside your gaping hole.
“so beautiful, can’t believe how lucky i got.” the white-haired man grunts as his lips refuse to leave your skin. from your neck to your shoulders and upper arms — he didn't leave a single inch uncovered. it was almost tortureous: the way he grinded his tip against your pussy as he touches the rest of your body with his hands and mouth.
you whine and rub your hips back in the same rhythm. you were indirectly begging him to put it in already and satoru took notice of it. since you had begged once before, he won't coax you into doing it again.
with a light moan, he slides his throbbing cock all the way up the tight space. the squeal you let out at the sensation of being stretched out to your maximum capacity, made satoru murmur a few more words of praise in your ear.
“you're doing so good - taking me so well,” his voice was smooth like honey, the same goes for his soft thrusts. the way your pussy grips onto his cock makes him see stars. your boyfriend never gets tired of making love to you because the hypnotising feeling of being inside you doesn't ever get old. it feels like the first time he had stuffed you full of his cock over and over again.
you were feeling light-headed by now; your eyes rolling back as your mouth formed an 'o'-shape—the cockdrunk look satoru loves to see on you. the squelshy 'flop flop flop' noises echo throughout the entire room with every deep thrust of his hips against the plump flesh of your ass.
satoru's long fingers go from playing with your nipples to groping your hips and ass. his eyes gaze downwards, watching as the fat of your bottom ripples after his pace quickens. you were trying your best to keep up, but the overstimulation of all your senses made it hard to match your movements to his.
“aht aht. you've worked hard enough on your exams already, princess. just lay back and allow me to do everything.” satoru (jokingly) scolds you. this was your reward and he didn't want you putting in any effort if your body couldn’t handle it. he wants you to relax like you deserve after a stressful period of exams and assignments. he’ll happily do all the work instead.
“oh, mmh! too good — fuck!” you mewl. your fingers curl around the bedsheets that moved back and forth with your bodies. a bigger hand settles on top of yours — intertwining your fingers and holding onto them tightly. you could feel satoru smiling against the skin of your shoulder as he kisses it, absolutely enjoying your little reactions to his thrusts.
“yeah? am i doing well?” he asks in a teasing tone. he didn’t have to ask that question; he knows he’s doing well judging purely by your bodily reactions. your back arches and your limbs shake uncontrollably, “am i pleasing my baby well enough?”
you can only moan out a couple ‘yes’’s, but that is enough of a confirmation. the older man is on cloud nine as he drags his thick cock in and out of your desperate cunt. every time he pulls out he can feel your pussy try to swallow him back in — it drove him nuts.
“i love how you look whilst i stuff you full of my cock. so innocent, yet so.. lewd at the same time.” satoru comments through another groan, the hand on your hip holding your body still so he could fuck his dick deeper into you. the tip of his cock nearly reaches your cervix due to the angles he uses to move inside you.
your long-awaited and much deserved orgasm was right around the corner. your moans increase in frequency and volume which was enough of a sign for satoru to increase the pleasure. his fingers trail down your hips and to the center between your open legs—thumb putting pressure on your clit.
the extra stimulation has got you biting into the pillow beneath your head, your lower body writhing around as your lover rubs the small bundle of nerves in circles and from side to side. his hand moves fast—its mission being to help you reach that intense orgasm you were chasing after.
satoru is feeling it himself as well. his cock aches and twitches as it gets ready to drain its balls inside your pussy, “cum with me baby—fuck—cum on my cock whilst i dump my load all the way into your tight little cunt.”
that was all the encouragement you needed. your eyes roll back and your body convulses as the waves of pleasure come crashing down all at once. you could feel satoru’s hips desperately push against your ass, filling you completely with both his dick and hot spurts of cum. you could feel the warm essence leavings its evidence in your womb.
the bedsheets underneath your two bodies was drenched in your slick after you calmed down a bit. your boyfriend continues to place comforting kisses all over your naked body, trying to show his appreciation for you in all the ways he could.
“you did so well. you deserved this, princess.” satoru utters softly, the hair clinging onto his forehead. he gently pulls his soft cock out after a minute of making sure that every drop of his cum stayed inside of your cunt. he loves the feeling of fulfilment that it gives him — loves the fact that he filled his girl to the brim.
you smile weakly. you were fucked out: completely and utterly. it felt good and you were satisfied with your reward. it even gave you enough motivation to do well on future exams, “thanks, ‘toru. ‘m feeling sleepy though.”
satoru snickers. you were always so adorable and vulnerable around him after the two of you partake in such activities. he loves it and it makes him want to take care of you.
“you deserve plenty of rest, so go ahead.” your lover smiles gently, kissing the top of your head after you close your eyes. one of his hands hold yours whilst the other rubs your side soothingly, “i won't leave. i'll stay right here with you whilst you sleep. i promise."
satoru knew you needed to hear those words in your vulnerable state. and surely enough, you smile once more and nod. your body falls asleep the moment his strong arms pull you into a loving hug.
his lips attach to your ear in the form a chaste peck. his smooth voice was the last thing you heard as you faded into an unconscious state;
“i love you so much.”
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🏷️: @marimogf @osaemu @screampied @sukuette @sachiyoh @giannitaa @morinuu
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bachibabe · 7 months
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— 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 ♡
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synopsis: oh no! what is a cursed spirit supposed to do when he gains interest in a mortal girl? probably not make sex dolls of her, kidnap her, then fuck her until she breaks. but no one told him that!
𖦹₊┆ mahito x fem! reader
𖦹₊┆ wc: 4.5k
𖦹₊┆ warnings: noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, sex doll, cruel and unusual punishment, mindbreak, fear play, blood, biting, marking, minimal prep, cervix bruising, dehumanization (?), creampie, mahito is gross, referring to the sex doll as if it was a real person
𖦹₊┆ notes: the fic ive been writing on and off for a month… she is my baby… i have birthed her. please please please read the warnings and enjoy <33 kms if this doesn’t show up in tags
18+ → minors / blank blogs dni
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Creak.
Footsteps. Footsteps right in front of you. Right in front of your safe haven.
Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please keep walking. Please. If there’s any god out there please make him keep walking.
Bang.
His fist hits the desk right above your head. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Why the fuck did you even hide? It was dumb. So dumb. You can’t get away. Maybe if you ran, kept running forever you could get away. But you can't. Not anymore. It’s too late for any of that.
“There you are, pretty doll.” His sick smile is all you see as he leans down, coming into view. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. You know that. You do.
You knew from the moment he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. Practically buzzing as he rocked on his heels. His speech was slurred, manic. He’s never spoken like that before. So. . . so crazy.
You tried to be polite, you really did. You tried to make small talk, to politely excuse yourself even though your hands were shaking.
You tried to close the door on him but it just wouldn’t shut as he kept rambling. His foot shoved in the way, preventing your escape. His dirty fucking sneakers– god even now you remember them so clearly. You remember so many things you wish you didn’t.
How he fucking smiled when you looked back up at him.
It makes your stomach churn to think about it now.
You remember clearly how he grabbed you. He forced his way inside, slowly backing you against the wall. You remember how he grabbed your wrists, talked about how tiny they were in his hands. Showed you only a moment of warmth before harshly biting into the skin, red rising to the surface, coating his tongue. A sound of pain was retched from your throat, trying to pull away while his grip only got tighter. His hips forced you into the wall, trapping you. Keeping you as prey.
He said you taste delicious.
It fucking echos in your head. Makes you go insane with how it repeats over and over again. Exactly how he said the words. The lilt in his tone, the smile that made him look like he just saw the face of god. How excited he sounded at the first taste of blood.
The way you could tell that he craved more.
Craved everything you had to give.
You didn’t think demons were real before that night. Ghosts, angels– anything that goes bump in the night was just a figment of one's imagination. Maybe hallucinations. But this, this was real. How you wish this was all just some stupid hallucination.
Nothing is paranormal before you face the devil himself.
Nothing is more terrifying than when the devil wants you.
You learned that that night.
He dragged you next door, throwing you to the ground. He looked like a shadow, only a silhouette as he stood in the doorway. The moon casting a glow from behind him. You couldn't see his face, none of it was legible as you scrambled backwards. Trying, trying so desperately to put some space between yourself and the beast.
His shoulders heaved as he panted. Like a fucking monser that just got his kill.
He had.
He closed the doors. Locked them with what felt like a million keys. He started fucking giggling. Giggling like a goddamn lunatic as his demeanor changed completely. He was smiling like an innocent little kid. He was happy. The happiest you had ever seen a person before.
“Ahhh~” He sighed, glee laced in his all too cheery tone. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Speaking, churning in your ears so it's all you can hear. It mocks you. Mocks your very being. Mocks you for trying to live a normal life away from him.
You remember how he clung to you that night as you sobbed. Whining about how you shouldnt be sad, that you were home now. He’d coo, playing with your hair as he tried to ‘soothe’ your trembling body. His arms wrapped around you in a vice. It felt like he was choking the air out of your lungs.
Maybe he was trying, maybe he wanted you dead. You really had no clue. You just wanted to get away– be as far away from him as you could. You’d do anything, you told him as much. Change your name, leave the country. You promised you wouldn’t tell anybody! You would tell him anything if it meant you could leave.
But he kept you in place. Tucked in his arms. His entire body wrapped around yours, keeping you close. Keeping his face nuzzled into your neck. Smelling you. Smelling your fear.
He loves that smell.
If you let him he would breathe it in all the time, treating it as the very thing that keeps him alive. Well, until you die anyway. But he knows that won't be anytime soon! You’re strong. You're tenacious. He knows you are. You’ve dealt with so much in your life, you can deal with him too. He just knows it.
He wonders what all of your other emotions smell like.
Hmm.. What about love? That would be an interesting smell. Maybe it would be sweet like honey? Maybe bitter like chocolate… Humans are so interesting. They're so fun.
You are especially. And he knows you’ll like him too. He’s sure of it as you finally tire yourself out, falling asleep on his beat up mattress. Mmhmm crying for hours must really hurt your soul. Poor thing. He would fix it. Fix you up all nice and pretty. Yeah, he knows just how to. His pretty experiment.
Well, he thinks that’s all you are. A nice human experiment for him to play with. To learn everything about. Learn what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry. Kenjaku told him as much. He could keep a little human as a pet, dispose of them when necessary. But… he doesn’t want to let you go! Just the thought makes him want to cry!
You are already better than he ever imagined!
Bang.
The chair blocking your body is thrown back, assaulting the wall with a deafening crash. Your hands come up, covering your ears. Shit Shit Shit! Fuck, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?! Your body forces itself as far as it can into the corner of the desk. All you can hear, all you can think about is the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears.
Why are you so dumb?! You knew you couldn’t win! You never win any of his games!
He squats in front of you, blocking your only means of escape. You hear him, watch him inhale deep before letting out a sick laugh. One that makes you want to cry. One that makes you feel like trying to run– trying to hide is useless. Maybe it is. You don’t see how you could possibly get away.
The pictures covering his walls tell you everything you need to know.
“Found you.” He smiles, crawling towards your body, crawling towards your last bit of safety. He looks like a monster– he is a monster. He can’t be human. He can’t. You refuse to believe it. Your legs kick, they try to get away. They try to be your last line of defense but his face only shows that of an owner looking at a puppy having a fit. He looks so fond of you.
You want to scream.
He grabs your ankle. It hurts. Everything hurts. You should’ve become numb at this point, you wish you had. You feel your body slip out from under the desk, dragged against the hard floor. Pick you up with ease, lay you down in his bed. His gross disgusting bed.
He pouts. He fucking pouts at you. Sits in front of you.
“Don't tell me you’re jealous.” His frowns, tilting his head at you. “I didn't mean to make you! I swear! I just wanted to show you. How much I love you…how good I could make my pretty doll feel.” You could never be jealous. Not of anything involving him.
Especially not involving the putrid fucking sex doll that lays next to you in bed.
How he fucked it last night, making you watch. Made you hold his hand while he thrust into the thing. Made you cup his face as he came inside.
“How I’ve been practicing just for you.” He coos, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to his knees, crawling towards you in the bed. “Humans are hard to understand…And I really just can’t wait for you any longer.”
You don’t hear his words. Your eyes fixated on the doll that looks just like you. Every freckle the same, every mole. Every fucking tiny detail mirrored yours in a lifeless, hollow core made of silicon. Filled up with his cum. You don’t want to think about how many times he’s fucked it. How many times he’s pretended having sex with you while holding it close. How much he had to have spent to get such a thing.
How deep whatever he feels for you runs.
You swear it probably coats his veins. Running under every inch of this skin. Giving it color. Giving it life. It's all you’re able to think about when he leaves you alone in the apartments. It’s hard for you to swallow. To believe for yourself. You wish it is a lie.
You let him get close. You let him into your bubble for only a second. You allow his face into your neck. Biting your skin, drawing blood once again. He loves the taste. You think he's probably obsessed with it. You wanted to recoil away, disgusted with how he hums, lapping at the skin. But you don’t. You need to let him have this. Even if it's just for a second.
You close your eyes tight. You feel him relax. He thinks you’re giving in. You know he does. You can do this. You can do this. You may have only made this decision a moment ago as you stared at the doll, but you had to do this. You had to do it for yourself. It may be the last chance you get. You can’t stop fighting.
You can do this. You can do this.
The mantra chants over and over again in your head like a prayer. You feel his hand reach up, covering your clothed breast with his palm. Massaging it carelessly, without any thought or respect for you. In his head you’re probably the same as that fucking sex doll.
Your knee shoots up. Right into his crotch. Right where it hurts the most. Your hands shove him with all the strength in your body, getting him off of you. Getting him away for only a moment while he recovers. Maybe. Maybe you can make it out of the door. Or maybe you can make it to the bathroom and lock yourself inside. Maybe you have a chance. Just maybe.
Your body scrambles off of the bed, moving faster than you ever thought was possible. You race towards the door, arm reaching out for the handle. You’re so close. You’re almost there. You’re almost able to get away.
Freedom is within your grasp, it's so close you can taste it. He forgot to lock the door, you know he did. You didn't hear any of them click back in place when he came inside. He was too caught up in the moment with trying to find you. If you make it there then maybe, just maybe you can get outside. Run as fast and as far away as you can. Call the police and escape from him. Spread the wings he’s tried to clip.
You land flat on your face.
Not even your arms are able to cushion your fall.
A stitched hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you, dragging you again. Backwards. Back into the cage. Back to him. His chest heaves. His shoulders hunch. He looks disheveled. Crazed.
He has that fucking smile plastered on his face.
“I love it when you run. It's so pretty.” He giggles, “You know me so well.”
You kick at him, thrash your body as he pulls you closer and closer. “Get the fuck away from me!” You yell, though it falls on deaf ears. All the strength in your body is being used to get away. To try and escape from him. He can’t be human. He’s too strong. Even with your struggle he still lifts you easily, like you’re just some fucking little kid having a temper tantrem.
“I’ve been so patient…” He sighs, placing– rather, forcing you onto the edge of the bed. Your knees on the floor as your torso is pressed against the mattress. Your arms pinned behind your back with one of his hands. Your hips pinned in place with his own. You can feel his cock against you. He’s hard. “I really am patient, you know?”
He hums, gently rocking his hips against you. His entire length pressed against your cunt. Taunting you. Words are not needed for you to know what’s to come. “It’s really too bad you know? I’ve run out.”
The simple statement makes your blood run cold.
“I’ve been so gentle…so caring…” He purrs, forcing his sweatpants down his legs. Just enough for his cock to spring free. Just enough for him to be able to stroke himself. For him to press the fat head where he wants– no, no. Needs to be. “I’ve really been trying my best to be good for you.”
You wish you could see. You wish you could see everything– exactly what he is doing. What he is planning to do to your wrecked frame. If, if everything wasn’t such a surprise then maybe… maybe you could make it a little better. But like this… you’re helpless. You’re trapped. You hate it. You can’t stand it. You wish you still had more tears left to cry. But you know it’s over. You can’t do anything now.
Exactly how he wants it– wants you.
You feel him stop moving, an excited gasp resonating from his throat. His entire presence changes in a flash, giddiness taking him over as the cogs in his brain turn. Making his own story, his own reality changing all over again. “Unless, you don't want me to be good for you? You want me to take what I want? That’s why you’ve been trying to run and hide?”
His frame towers over yours, his full weight pressing against your back forcing you deeper into the bed as he mumbles into your ear. “All you had to do was say so~ ♡”
All you can do is whimper in response. Whimper like a wounded animal that's been forced to accept their fate. Your head is blank, devoid of all thoughts and feelings. There is nothing. Nothing you can do.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe a small part of you does like it. Who knows. You certainly don’t.
He blows gently on your ear, teasing you before he leans back. Your bottoms are forced down, exposing your cunt to the entire room. You can feel him practically buzzing with excitement. With some sick pleasure found deep within his gut.
“So pretty!” He whines, spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your pretty little cunt. You hate that you’re already wet. You hate that the feeling of his cock did it to you just moments before. You hate that he can see it. You hate the way pride bubbles up in his gut. The way you can hear him lick his lips like a starved man.
Hate what the other little voice is saying inside of your head. Hate that even maybe a little bit of your soul wants to feel him. The quiet fucked up voice that you always try to scilence.
“Mm… I wanna taste you so bad but… I really can’t wait anymore… what am I supposed to do!!” You can practically hear the pout plastered on his lips. “Ah~”
The fat head of his cock finds its way back to your cunt, dragging itself up and down your lips. Milking every last bit of wetness out of your hole. Your nails dig into your own hands— maybe his. It’s hard to tell where you stop and he begins. When he’s this close it’s hard to tell much of anything.
“We have forever together don’t we?” He chuckles, his head stopping at your unprepped little hole. Attempting to push into it with just enough pressure to have you squirm. Have you bite down on the sheet to silence any sounds that might try to come through. “We can try out all sorts of fun things together~”
His thumb aids as he tries to push the head of his cock inside. Prodding, trying to force his way inside without a care in the world for how it might hurt. How it might feel for you. He’s too big— you’re, you’re too tight. You can’t take it! It won’t fit you just, just!
“Mmmm!!” A muffled cry breaks free from your throat as the head of his cock buries itself in your cunt. Your ears ring, pain taking over your senses as he lets out a mouth watering, near pornographic moan from above you.
His grip on your wrists tighten, eyes staring at where he’s fucked himself into you. Wow~ it’s so pretty. He never expected a human to feel this good! It’s incredible! Magnificent! And this is just the first inch of him? Oh my… he can only imagine what bottoming out with feel like— how it will feel when his cock is pressed against your cervi—
Wait wait!! He’s getting ahead of himself again. A gasp leaves his throat as he pulls out, a muffled whine leaving your own. Your hole clenches around nothing. What a cute little thing! It’s calling him back in!! He knew you wanted this, he knows all about you huh?
He drags his cock back and forth through your lips again, red mixing in with the pretty white. He dips his cock head over and over again into your entrance, thrusting himself deeper and deeper every time. Stretching you just perfectly around his length.
Hmm, humans like prep right? He figures that this is close enough. His doll doesn’t need it. She just takes him right away— someday you’ll be the same! He just needs to break you in! But until then, he needs to savor this… who knows when you might come around again?
Mmm… you’re too mean to him. Yeah, that’s all it is.
Ah, it’s too bad he’s too lost to notice you’re already falling apart. Your back is arching on its own. Working without permission to give him a better angle. Your hips bucking, leaning back ever so slightly as he presses into your cunt. Urging him just a little deeper. Your pussy is too wet to think about anything, your head in a daze as he teases you, taunts you relentlessly.
You don’t want this— at least you think you don’t. But, it’s so hard to know what you really want when you’re head gets like this. When it’s actually feeling good. When the pleasure mixes with pain to concoct something dangerous. Something that makes you unsure of anything really. Maybe you’re dumb, maybe you’re stupid. Yeah. You probably are. But that’s okay. He likes that.
He likes you.
He slides his cock inside of your hole, his hand moving to your ass as thrusts his hips. Forcing his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your walls clenching around every inch that pushes its way inside. God, you’ve never felt so full. You’ve never felt anything like this. Anything like his cock, anything like him.
Whimpers, whines, all sorts of sounds escape your throat as you let him do what he pleases. Give into whatever twisted pleasure is being given to you. It’s hard to stop them when he’s even louder— panting like a fucking dog as he feels you. Feels every inch of you. Makes you two become one.
He fucks into you so hard it hurts. So hard that your entire body is being pushed into the bed, spine curving up to meet him with every demonic thrust of his hips. Every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass, every time the head of his cock meets with your cervix, pain racks through your body. You can’t take it. You feel like you’re going crazy. You feel like you’re the insane one.
The sound of skin against skin penetrating the sound of your ears like some sort of sick, twisted song. A song he plays so well. One you don’t want him to stop. No matter how much it hurts, how it stings you, you just can’t find it in yourself to push him away. His moans feel like a siren’s voice, luring you closer and closer, pushing you so close to the edge.
“Why’s she so mean!” He whines, his thrusts frantic and hurried. Only caring for his own pleasure, only caring about him. “Won’t let me in any deeper doll! Can you believe that?” He groans, pressing his cock so hard against your cervix you nearly scream in pain. Your body thrashes, trying to get away from the sensation.
He shushes you quietly, leaning his torso against your back as he coos. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… we won’t try that today okay? Must be too much for you… poor thing.” His hips relent, slowly rocking into your battered cunt to give you a little bit of a break. To rest before the main event.
You want to cringe at how wet you sound, how messy you’ve become due to his cock and his cock alone. How greedily your pussy takes him, urging him back with every thrust. Wanting it. Wanting him.
You see his arm reach past your head, grabbing onto your mimics hair. Pulling the doll closer. Holding its head so it’s staring right into your eyes. It’s so lifeless. So hollow.
“It’s okay.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Someday you’ll take me just like she can, yeah? You’ll be sooo~ good for me.” His hips start to pick up their pace again, thighs slapping against your ass so hard you might see stars. So hard you actually want to listen to him.
“I had to break her in too, real good.” He pants out, loosing himself in the feeling of your tight, warm walls.
You flinch away. You can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at a face that is exactly your own yet so cold and distant. So lost. Used for months on end. Maybe a little sense comes back to you, a small part of reality seeping back into your skull.
He tsks. Fucking tsks and shakes his head in disappointment. “That won’t do… I need my girls to like each other…” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at the thing. The creature with your hair and eyes.
“Kiss it.” His voice changes in a second, morphing into something commanding. Something scary. Fuck reality. Living in whatever dream you’ve created for yourself is better. Better than facing this. You don’t want to disobey. You want to listen, want him to let you cum. Maybe want his praise, even if it’s just a little.
Your lips meet with the cold, lifeless silicon. Tasting whatever disgusting leftover cum can be found on its lips. He pushes the head against your lips, forcing you to lick your tongue inside. “Adorable!!”
He likes it. He likes it too much. You can tell.
Tell by the way his hips pick up speed, forcing your used hole to take him over and over again. Forcing you to accept him into your body. Forcing you to fall for his cock. Make sure no one else will ever be able to use it. Use you like the way he wants to.
Can tell by the way his cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His pace completely out the window as he searches for nothing but his own release.
Maybe you like it too. Like the way his cum tastes. Like the way he took this, took all of you for himself. All of you flesh as his. The coil tightens in your stomach, white specks start to form behind your eyelids. You’re close, too fucking close you just can’t take it anymore.
A loud moan leaves your lips, muffled by the silicon held against your mouth. Waves of pleasure crashing through your frame like a tidal wave of ecstasy as white paints the inside of your walls. Ears ringing, vision gone white as endorphins fill your brain making you forget— forget everything about this moment. How fucked up it is. How you want more.
Your walls clamp around his cock as it jerks in your cunt, milking every last drop of cum from him. Filling you up until you’re full. Until you can’t think anymore. Until you’re so tired you just want to collapse.
He drops the doll letting you pull your head back to finally be able to breathe again fully. Your frame slumps against the bed. Tired. Drained of everything it has to give.
He slowly pulls out of your abused little hole, watching the way it flutters around nothing. Watching the white mixed with red slowly drip out of it onto the rug. “Humans are such incredible little things…”
He smiles, shallowly dipping a finger inside your hole before popping it in his mouth. Just a little taste. “You did so good doll…” He pets your hair, gives you some sort of comfort after everything he’s done. It’s the least you deserve.
He moves your body into the bed with ease, pulling a blanket over your shaking form. A nap would be good right now. It’s always good to give humans at least one nap a day! Mhmm… and you seem like you could use one.
He moves behind you, wrapping an arm around your body from behind. Pulling you close to his chest. Making no mind to fix your clothes. This is good. This is right. It’s how it’s always supposed to have been!! Ah, and now he has all the time to make you understand that too. He’s so lucky. So lucky to have found such a good human.
“Night night dolly…” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair gently. Coaxing you to sleep. “Let’s have a great day tomorrow too, yeah?”
Right. Cause this is forever. ♡
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We got each other (and that's a lot)
Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18
Prompt: Hurt/Comfort
Rated: M
CW: Violent imagery; aftermath of injury
Tags: Steve got vecna'd (he's okay, though); Angst; Trauma; Fluff
Notes: Continued from day 3. They'll be fine, they just need to kiss some and get a lot of therapy, probably.
Wanna see these soft, broken boys sleeping? Check out the heartwrenching art by @house-of-the-moving-image
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Eddie drifts.
Inky blackness surrounds him like cotton, every sound, every thought muffled. His neck and fingers and arms still hurt, but it's the dull kind that comes with exhaustion, the tingle of adrenaline finally rushing from his body. Some distant part of him is still stirring, demanding that they stay alert … but the darkness is warm and soft and alluring as it pulls him under. 
Something cold touches his hand. 
Eddie flinches awake, heart kickstarting in his chest, fear zapping into his limbs like an electric current.
He fell asleep, he realizes, and the terror of it claws its way up his throat like a slimy, rotten tangle of vines. He fell asleep and when he opens his eyes it'll be to find Steve floating under the ceiling again, to find Steve's mangled corpse on the bed, eyes sucked from their sockets, face twisted in an eternal, grotesque scream, it's too late and he fell asleep, he fucking fell asleep while- 
Steve is awake. 
Steve is awake and he's looking at him and he's alive and his hand is lying on top of Eddie’s. It's cold and there's a needle in it from the IV cord and he's ghastly pale against the sheets, but he's smiling softly and he's alive, he's alive and Eddie wants to scream, to cry, to kiss him and never stop, to hold him and never let go-
"Hey," Steve whispers. 
"Hey," Eddie croaks. "You look like shit, man."
"Aw," says Steve, and the corners of his mouth twitch and Eddie thought he'd never see his smile again and shitshitshit don't cry, Munson, don't cry. "Thought I was pulling it off real well." 
He jerks his head in the general direction of the cast on his right leg, the one on his left arm. Eddie thinks he'll hear the sound of the bones breaking in his nightmares for the rest of his life.
"Typical," is what he says. "Half dead and still worried about your looks." 
Steve hums a not-quite-laugh. His fingers caress the back of Eddie’s hand. 
"Is he …?" 
"Dead," Eddie blurts. "For real this time. It's over." 
"The kids?" Steve's fingers twitch.
"Fine," Eddie says, watches how Steve's entire form sags with relief. "Buckley and Wheeler, too. And everyone else. It's over." 
"I- good." Steve screws his eyes shut, gulps. Draws a shuddering breath. "That's good." 
Eddie watches how his shoulders start shaking. Following a sudden impulse, he flips his hand and tangles his hand with Steve's, careful not to upset the needle. Steve blinks down at their entwined fingers. 
Eddie forces himself to smile and rambles on before either of them can question the gesture. 
"El was so fucking metal, you should've seen her. Like, the way she obliterated that douchebag? Remind me to never get on that girl's bad side! Seriously, man, I don't think any of us would be here if she hadn't-" 
"Well, I don't think I would be here …" says Steve. "... if it hadn't been for you." 
Eddie’s words barrel to a stop. Steve’s fingers tighten against his, trace the callouses on his hands. Steve’s smile is small and soft, but his eyes are serious, trained stubbornly on the ugly pattern of his hospital gown. 
"I thought you hated Bon Jovi." 
Eddie huffs. "Fuck, yeah, I do. Forcing me to besmirch my Sweetheart's strings with that mainstream shit? You owe me big time, man. Better start thinking of ways to pay me back."
"Yeah?" Steve raises their tangled hands lightly. "How's this for a start?" 
And then, before Eddie can even wonder what he's about to do, he ducks his head and presses a kiss to his knuckles. His lips are soft and warm. 
Eddie blinks. Waits for the world to stop spinning. 
"For … a start?" he repeats dumbly. 
Steve's eyebrow quirks. 
"Dude, I'd like to do so much more, but I'm glad I managed to lift your hand, to be honest. We should also first talk about stuff, I guess." 
"Oh," Eddie says intelligently. "You mean … like that thing you wanted to tell me?" 
"Yeah, like tha- … that thing." Steve needs to interrupt himself for a huge yawn halfway through. Since one of his arms is in a cast and the other hand is refusing to let go of Eddie’s, it ends up open-mouthed and adorable. "Probably'll have to sleep some more b'fore that, though …"
"Sure thing," Eddie is out of his chair and fussing with the pillow before he realizes what he's doing. Steve's eyes are already drooping as he helps him settle down. "I'll … I'll be outside, tell the others you're-" 
"Eddie?" Steve's grip around his wrist is light as a feather, but he still stops like he's been tethered in place. When he turns, there's fear swimming in those pretty eyes. "Stay? I don't … I'd rather not be alone." 
Eddie is back in his chair before Steve can finish the sentence. 
"Can you…" Steve's eyes are slipping shut again and his words are slurred, so that Eddie must lean closer to catch them. "D’you think you can sing? So I can find my way back, if- … Your voice is like light."
Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know if there's anything he could possibly say to that. So he says nothing. Just swallows around the lump in his throat and takes Steve's hand and starts singing softly. 
By the time Steve's breath evens out and his fingers go limp, Eddie’s other hand has found its way into his hair. 
Eddie keeps singing for a long while.
For as long as he's here, Steve will always have someone to guide him back.
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Part 3
All my holiday drabbles
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animentality · 1 year
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Dude I'm so confused
Why are the redditors refugees here-
Whats up with the tag 196
AND WHY IS EVERYONE BEING SO NICE WITH THE TWITTER REFUGEES CAME WE GAVE THEM HELL (almost)
The Reddit refugees are here because several subreddits have gone private in protest of reddit's new policy of charging third party developers for access to its API.
Hence the term reddit blackout.
196 specifically was a very queer friendly subreddit that had one rule: that you post before you leave. 196 is trending because those Redditors have come here and they're basically sharing their memery here instead as they protest reddit's greed.
As for why we're welcoming them when Twitter refugees were seen with a little more irritation, well.
Think of the culture similarities.
Tumblr and reddit have far more in common than Tumblr and Twitter.
Twitter is about clout and manipulating algorithms and discourse in 280 characters or less. It's about bad takes that reach the right people and it forces you to see things you don't want to see and it's crawling with the worst people imaginable and you're forced to see them, all the time. They also brought bad tagging and 2016 Tumblr discourse with them, because Twitter culture really involves starting fights for clout and braindead opinions that no one really wants to come back to Tumblr culture.
There was a time when Tumblr did the same thing, but worse, with more words...but nowadays, it's really calmed down.
The worst people...went to Twitter after the porn ban. Ironically, it made the site less toxic and hostile.
But then they came back.
And it was like...hm. no thanks. Stay back where you came from.
But Tumblr and Reddit have much more in common.
Both have a more streamlined way of customizing your online feed. You can choose what subreddits you see on your home screen, just like Tumblr only shows you the content of your followers, on your dashboard, and in chronological order rather than what's trending. You can join a very specific weird niche group of freaks with a shared obsession, and not care about the rest of the site at all. You also don't have a character limit on either site, which lets you ramble more and share weird detailed stories.
Reddit might have karma, but like Tumblr, the majority of people are lurkers and not posters. It also allows you to downvote bad opinions, and moderators who have to adhere to certain guidelines of behavior, which means a lot of banning disruptive people.
Granted, sometimes their mods are power hungry, but. You know.
It does more to control its users than Tumblr do, and that's a good thing in terms of keeping toxicity and illegal shit off its subs.
Reddit also has a way more leftwing attitude than you would think.
It has a reputation for being full of incels but I honestly think that's outdated.
It's cleaned up its act quite a bit since the old days.
I see way more vile shit from Twitter and TikTok. Like seriously.
Twitter is crawling with conservative bots and propaganda machines and just outright inflammatory lies. TikTok literally has the worst comment sections I've ever seen, like edgy teenagers cracking racist and misogynistic humor and acting like it makes them different and special. Its algorithm also spoon feeds you garbage and is designed to be as addicting as possible.
At least reddit's culture, while chauvinistic and regressive in certain subcultures, is mostly on the tech positive, atheist libertarian side.
It can be a little pretentious and caustic about certain subjects, and a little full of itself. Some reddits are also very male leaning and disregard female concerns in favor of moaning about how men have it worse than anyone else on earth.
But for the most part?
...well.
I welcome them here, because if they left reddit in protest, then we always support protests. But 196 specifically is also a queer subreddit, and we support that even more.
Plus they're funny as fuck.
What's not to like, really?
You should welcome them with open arms too.
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tojivu · 8 months
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# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU
✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.
✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy
✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.
✰ — word count ~3k LOL
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nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.
even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.
you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.
you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.
you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.
'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'
one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.
'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.
she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.
the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.
you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.
it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.
it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.
just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.
you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.
──────
"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.
gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.
you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.
"what is it, mr. gojo?"
he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?
"i woke up late today."
"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"
"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."
gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.
"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."
you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.
"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."
you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.
"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."
you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.
you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.
no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.
"nothing about this is funny."
you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."
"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.
you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.
you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.
"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.
you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.
you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.
at least you were self-aware.
your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.
you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.
just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."
you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."
satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."
that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.
nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.
you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.
so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."
you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.
"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."
gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.
──────
the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.
you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.
you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"
you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."
it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.
"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."
he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.
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gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.
you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.
"miss y/n, you should try some."
you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.
"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."
"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."
you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."
you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.
you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.
he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.
you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.
"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.
gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.
he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.
"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."
you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.
"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.
he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."
his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.
before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.
satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.
you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.
you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.
a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.
it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.
you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.
gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.
it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?
you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.
gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.
there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.
he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"
of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.
"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."
gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."
"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.
"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.
you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."
"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."
"it's still office hours. it's only polite."
gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.
"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."
you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.
"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.
"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."
you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.
"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."
what was the harm in discovering more?
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230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum
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