deathofacupid

[deathofacupid]

god you need to be protected at all costs, that fuckass anon has too much time on their hands to sit and spew hate anonymously. if you dont like it, keep it shut, nobody asked.

youre one of my favorite writers here, angel. never ever let them get to you.

jazzzz my fairyyyy ilysm you’re so sweet ❤️

[deathofacupid]

ANGELLLL

FARIDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[deathofacupid]

★ — shoko's a monster with her strap-on. she never goes easy on you, not that you expect her to. really, it'd be out of character. her favorite position?

hitting it from the back. she loves pulling on your hair, how nicely your ass comes back to meet the base of her silicone cock - echoing, along with your moans, a sticky, wet plap! plap! plap!

she loves it when you're overstimulated, most. begging her to stop, telling her you can't take it.

"sure, you can," she'd coo, though there's not an ounce of pity. "you fuckin' slut."

clenching around her, frustrated tears paint your face. "mmm, sho... please," you whine.

"please, what? please... more?" she'd ask, taunting you. pulling out, only to slam back in, full speed. the tip of her fake dick kissing your cervix, having you cry out in a way that will leave your throat sore for weeks.

you moan, though it dangerously borders on a scream, "oh, fuck, i can't- s'too much!"

she clicks her tongue, shaking her head. the way you squirt - for the nth time - gushing liquid onto her, has her knowing you're a liar. a nasty, slutty, liar.

that's why she doesn't stop when you beg, not for the next couple of hours, opting to drive her dildo into you over and over, losing track of how many times she makes you come undone.

because, like i said, shoko is a monster with her strap-on.

[deathofacupid]

my beautiful angel, that anon was indeed a hater ass bitch, just note to anon, don't give criticism when it's not asked for, if that was even considered criticism and not straight up hate.

as for my stunning, talented angel. that fic was dedicated to ME and i won't allow any hate on it, that fic literally made my day and reawakened by dead soul with how fluffy nd beautiful it was. absolute work of art and breathtaking writing that just....wow, made me so shsjejjsje yk?? i can't even fathom it into words.

ignore the anon, they were spewing nothing but bullshit, and don't let it get to you, my beautiful angel, okay? all of your fics are awesome and amazing and beautiful and stunning and breathtaking and all of the good stuff ❤️❤️❤️

ilysm now i’m crying ❤️❤️❤️

[deathofacupid]

sukuna doesn't yearn, but for you, that's all he can do. a/n: for @jeonwiixard! here's your yearning!sukuna!

sukuna found you a captivating being. he couldn't decipher the intricate workings of your mind, the wellspring of kindness that seemed to flow endlessly from you.

and perhaps, he mused, that very incomprehensibility was the key to your allure. you were a puzzle he desperately wanted to solve, a melody he couldn't quite place, a vibrant painting in a world he perceived in stark blacks and reds.

you were the type of person who took in stray cats, nursing them back to health with a gentle touch. sukuna, on the other hand, couldn't fathom the appeal of these creatures, their unpredictable nature and constant demands.

he found them irritating, a nuisance. yet, he'd watch you cooing over a sickly kitten, a soft smile gracing your lips, and a strange flicker of something akin to… longing? would stir within him.

during sad movies, tears streamed down your face, a testament to your empathy. sukuna would observe this display with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment.

he couldn't comprehend such vulnerability, such an outpouring of emotion for fictional characters. he, who had witnessed countless real-life tragedies, remained untouched, unmoved. yet, the sight of your tears, so genuine and unashamed, held a strange fascination for him.

even sad songs on the radio could elicit an emotional response from you, a wistful expression painting your features. sukuna would simply roll his eyes at such sentimentality, dismissing it as weakness. but even as he scoffed, a part of him, a dark and hidden part, wondered at the depth of feeling you possessed, a depth he knew he could never reach.

you nurtured life, tending your small garden with meticulous care. each delicate bloom, each vibrant green leaf, was a testament to your nurturing spirit.

sukuna, in stark contrast, reveled in destruction. he was a force of chaos, leaving a trail of brokenness and fear in his wake. your garden, a sanctuary of growth and beauty, seemed like a world apart from his own, yet he found himself drawn to it, a moth to a flickering flame.

your voice was soft, gentle, a soothing balm in a world of harsh noises. it carried a warmth that resonated with those around you, a quiet strength that commanded respect without the need for force. sukuna's voice, on the other hand, was booming, laced with power and menace. it demanded obedience, brooked no argument.

the contrast between your gentle tones and his commanding presence was stark, yet it was your soft voice that lingered in his mind, a whisper that echoed in the silence of his heart.

and yet, despite all these differences, despite the chasm that seemed to stretch between your worlds, sukuna found himself yearning for you. it wasn't just curiosity, though that had been the initial spark.

he had wanted to understand you, to unravel the mystery of your being. he had wanted to possess you, to claim you as his own, to bring your light into his darkness. but as he watched you, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun as you meticulously watered your plants, he realized it was something more profound.

it wasn't just curiosity. it wasn't just a desire to conquer. it was… love. affection. a certain yearning, a deep and visceral ache that resonated within the very core of his being. he wanted to make you his, to take you with him into his world, a world of shadows and power. but he couldn't ever fathom you feeling the same.

you were too good, too kind, too pure. the thought of you reciprocating his feelings seemed like a distant dream, a fantasy he dared not indulge in. and yet, the yearning persisted, a constant, nagging reminder of the light he could never truly possess, the love he could never truly deserve. it was all he could think about, making you his, even as he knew, deep down, that you were a star too bright for his darkness.

yearning, he thinks.

[deathofacupid]

★ — creep!nerd!jo can't help that he gets a raging boner every time you so much as glance his way. the way your glossy lips pull into a pout, just when you don't quite understand something, has him throbbing. you're always so pretty, too, all dolled up.

so, yeah, it really isn't his fault. if anything, it's yours. always parading around in that lacy skirt, teasing not just him, but everyone, he's sure. oh, and innocent little you doesn't even notice, do you?

no, you didn't notice. not how his cock strained against his pants, when he was tutoring you. how he leaned in a little closer, under the premise of helping you see what your mistake was. how his hand brushed against the soft flesh of your thigh, and your sickly sweet perfume never helped his case, either.

naively, you'd twirl your hair, and all he could think about was tugging it as he took you from behind. he's sure you would make such lovely noises, he has no doubt. god, the way your pink, charmed acrylics would leave marks on his back, too. or, how your bright lipstick would coat his pale skin.

and, really, it's funny how perverted his thoughts get — especially since he's a raging virgin.

that doesn't stop him, though. when he's stroking his leaky dick at night, submitting into his fantasies of shoving your head into a pillow and dragging his sensitive tip across your slit, getting to release his load into your soaked walls.

he comes over to tutor you, often, in your room. the two of you work through things you struggle with, and he stammers out answers to aid. sometimes, you'd leave to get snacks, trusting he wouldn't do anything. he seems like such a good guy, yeah?

for him, that's when the real fun began. he'd go through your drawers, collecting memorabilia for himself. from panties, to dusty old polaroids, he was never disappointed.

if he was feeling risky, he'd bury his face into your pillow, inhaling your scent, and pathetically humping the mattress. grinding his hips down, desperate for any friction. he'd never get to cum, though, you'd always walk in before.

he'd sit up, quickly, and throw a smile at you, pillow in lap. you'd return it, tossing him a bag of chips, and get back to work. and thus, you remained blissfully ignorant.

when you finally started to notice your things go missing, you'd told him, and he'd nodded in sympathy. as if he didn't use them to get off every night.

creep.

[deathofacupid]

my brosaurus rexx ilyy

jokes on u ilym

[deathofacupid]

excuse me, I think your writing and account just stole my heart.

omg stop i love getting asks like this !! tysm stay forever 💍🫵

[deathofacupid]

opposites attract, they say. they attract, but they don't last. at least, not satoru and you.

"'toru," you tug on his sleeve, the silk cool against your clammy skin. he glances away from the gaggle of people surrounding him, a practiced smile flashing across his face. it doesn't reach his eyes.

"yeah, baby?"

you inhale, the bass of the music vibrating through your chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. "can we — could you…" the words catch in your throat. what were you asking for? sanity? a moment of quiet? "um," you stammer, "when's this going to be over?"

"over?" he echoes, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, as if the very concept is absurd. "babe, the party just started."

your party. the party you hadn't asked for, the party you dreaded.

"i know," you say, treading carefully. you knew he'd put effort into this. it's just… the room felt like it was closing in. it wasn't his fault, not really. he thrived in this environment, the center of attention, radiating that effortless charisma. people were drawn to him like moths to a flame. and tonight, the flame was burning too bright.

"but… it's just really, um," suffocating is the word that claws at your throat, but it feels too dramatic, too needy. "it's just kind of a lot."

he laughs, a booming sound that seems to amplify the noise around you, and says something you can't hear over the music. "'toru," you sigh, the sound barely audible, "i can't hear you."

he clicks his tongue, a flash of annoyance crossing his features, before he leans in and excuses himself from the group. he takes your hand, his grip a little too tight, and pulls you out onto the balcony of the penthouse. the city lights sprawl beneath you, a dizzying panorama that mirrors the chaos in your head.

"okay," he says, his tone impatient, as if this whole conversation is an unwelcome interruption. "go ahead."

the resentment simmers. you swallow it down. "toru, this is… nice and all, but, uh — i'm just not sure… not sure this is my scene."

he squints at you, his brow furrowed. "what do you mean? it's your party."

"i didn't want one, though. don't get me wrong, this was… thoughtful, i guess. it's just too much for me."

satoru blinks, genuinely surprised, as if you've sprouted a second head. "but…i mean, i thought you'd like it. look at how many people showed up for you."

"'toru, those people aren't here for me. i don't even know most of them."

"it's a party! like, a party party. of course, you won't know all of them."

"i probably don't even know three of them!" you snap, the frustration finally breaking through. "you know i don't like these things," you add, the words softer now, pleading.

"yeah," he scoffs, the sound laced with something you can't quite decipher. "i do."

"well, what's that supposed to mean?"

"nothing. it's just," he groans, running a hand through his hair, "frustrating."

"frustrating? it's frustrating? me wanting to spend my birthday with you, that's frustrating?"

"you are with me!"

"and, like, one hundred other people! what's frustrating is that you're not listening! i told you i wanted to spend today, just the two of us!"

"but that's what we always do," he mutters, the words barely audible.

"what? oh, i'm sorry, is quality time annoying?"

he pinches the bridge of his nose, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "that's not what i meant."

"that's what it sounded like."

"look, it's just… boring doing the same thing all the time. we like different things."

"yeah," you whisper, the words heavy with a sudden, sinking realization. "we do, don't we?" you shake your head, the movement small and defeated, and turn to walk past him.

"wait, where are you going?"

you shrug, unable to meet his eyes, "to go to a different thing."

[deathofacupid]

thanks for the tag, fairy!

no pressure tags: @salsakiyoomi, @cuntyji, @loveyislost, @unabletonotlovesatoru, and anyone else who wants to do it!

In honor of valentines month, search up your name on the unsent project and share the posts which you relate to or think are written to you. Here's mine

[deathofacupid]

★ — creep!nerd!jo can't help that he gets a raging boner every time you so much as glance his way. the way your glossy lips pull into a pout, just when you don't quite understand something, has him throbbing. you're always so pretty, too, all dolled up.

so, yeah, it really isn't his fault. if anything, it's yours. always parading around in that lacy skirt, teasing not just him, but everyone, he's sure. oh, and innocent little you doesn't even notice, do you?

no, you didn't notice. not how his cock strained against his pants, when he was tutoring you. how he leaned in a little closer, under the premise of helping you see what your mistake was. how his hand brushed against the soft flesh of your thigh, and your sickly sweet perfume never helped his case, either.

naively, you'd twirl your hair, and all he could think about was tugging it as he took you from behind. he's sure you would make such lovely noises, he has no doubt. god, the way your pink, charmed acrylics would leave marks on his back, too. or, how your bright lipstick would coat his pale skin.

and, really, it's funny how perverted his thoughts get — especially since he's a raging virgin.

that doesn't stop him, though. when he's stroking his leaky dick at night, submitting into his fantasies of shoving your head into a pillow and dragging his sensitive tip across your slit, getting to release his load into your soaked walls.

he comes over to tutor you, often, in your room. the two of you work through things you struggle with, and he stammers out answers to aid. sometimes, you'd leave to get snacks, trusting he wouldn't do anything. he seems like such a good guy, yeah?

for him, that's when the real fun began. he'd go through your drawers, collecting memorabilia for himself. from panties, to dusty old polaroids, he was never disappointed.

if he was feeling risky, he'd bury his face into your pillow, inhaling your scent, and pathetically humping the mattress. grinding his hips down, desperate for any friction. he'd never get to cum, though, you'd always walk in before.

he'd sit up, quickly, and throw a smile at you, pillow in lap. you'd return it, tossing him a bag of chips, and get back to work. and thus, you remained blissfully ignorant.

when you finally started to notice your things go missing, you'd told him, and he'd nodded in sympathy. as if he didn't use them to get off every night.

creep.

[deathofacupid]

youre an angel right? pls take my soul, heart, nlood everything.

noooo i don’t need that !! i have uuu

[deathofacupid]

SELFSHIP QUESTION!!! do you love jazz!?!?!?

yes; colored works of art on the fridge, pinned up by colorful magnets we got traveling the world. lipstick marks everywhere. messy sheets. freak level turned up all the way. exchanging playlists we made for each other. braiding beard hair. lazy sundays spent cuddling with chandler and nanami. messages filled with cute gifs. sloppy toppies. 275 “pipos” complained about. giving her my test schedule prior. bites of our moments hidden in my writing. tutor and tutee. romantically queefing. giggles and blushes. making each other kick their feet. fairy and beard-man forever.

[deathofacupid]

i guess like son like mother...(chandler and you)

yes now come here so i can show you in detail how im similar to him

[deathofacupid]

shes bad at kahoot??? SHES JUST A WITTLE GIRLLL.

a wittle girl that doesn’t know spanish 😓

[deathofacupid]

synopsis: heian!era sukuna x blind reader, where he is undoubtedly sure that you wouldn't love him if you could see him. a/n: @salsakiyoomi, thought of you while writing this! i know you love sukuna, here's a gift for you. hope you're having a better day! banner credits to @/dollywons.

the air in the ancient chamber hung thick with the scent of incense and the faintest trace of something wilder, something that clung to sukuna like a phantom limb.

he held you close, your small form nestled against his chest, your breathing soft and even. you were a delicate bloom in his brutal world, a splash of vibrant color against the monochrome backdrop of his existence. he was a creature of shadows, a being woven from malice and power, and you… you were a whisper of sunlight.

he watched you, his crimson eyes burning in the dim light, a stark contrast to the serenity etched on your face. he was a monster, a twisted reflection of humanity, a being whose very presence warped the air around him. and you, his sweet, unsuspecting petal, loved him. the thought was both intoxicating and agonizing.

"tch," he muttered, the sound rumbling in his chest. "if you saw what i looked like, you would not be lying beside me like this." he imagined your soft gasp, the way your eyes, currently closed in peaceful slumber, would widen with horror.

he pictured the revulsion that would twist your delicate features, the fear that would replace the gentle affection you so freely gave. the image was a knife twisting in his gut.

you hummed, a small, contented sound, and snuggled closer. "do not be silly," you murmured, your voice laced with sleepiness.

his brow furrowed. "excuse me?"

"yes," you repeated, your voice gaining a touch more clarity. "whether you would admit it or not, i love you for who you are, 'kuna. there is nothing else to it." you reached a hand up, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scars that marred his cheek.

he flinched at the contact, a visceral reaction to the innocent touch that threatened to shatter the carefully constructed walls around his heart.

he scoffed, a harsh sound that echoed in the quiet chamber. "you say that because you are robbed of sight. you have not had the displeasure of seeing the world – seeing me." the words dripped with self-loathing. he imagined the revulsion that would fill your sightless eyes if they were suddenly granted the ability to perceive his true form, the grotesque markings that covered his body, the inhuman gleam in his eyes.

you loved him in the dark, in the comforting absence of his true appearance. it was a love built on a foundation of blissful ignorance.

you stilled, your hand pausing its gentle exploration of his face. "i do not need to see it," you said, your voice soft but firm, "to know it for what it is."

you shifted slightly, your face turning towards him, as if you could see him with your heart. "the world… it whispers to me, 'kuna. i feel its beauty, its pain, its joy, its sorrow. and i feel you. i feel the warmth of your heart, the strength of your spirit, even the darkness that you try so hard to hide. and i love all of it, 'kuna. all of it."

your words were a balm to his tormented soul, yet they also pierced him with the sharpest of pains. he didn't deserve this, this pure, unconditional love. he was a monster, and you were a gift he didn't deserve.

he remained silent, his hold on you tightening almost imperceptibly. he wanted to argue, to push you away, to protect you from the inevitable heartbreak that would come when you finally understood the true depth of his monstrous nature. but he couldn't. he was addicted to your love, to the warmth you brought to his cold, desolate existence.

he knew he was being selfish, clinging to you like a drowning man to a life raft, but he couldn't let you go. not yet. perhaps… perhaps he could keep you in the dark a little longer. perhaps he could bask in the light of your love just a little longer before the inevitable darkness consumed him, and you along with it.

[deathofacupid]

good morning angel, wishing you the best of luck on your exams <333

hii my queennn tysm !!