#🤏 I'm this close to snapping.

[otinytwigso]

I hope I'm not just a lighthearted mutual but also a little fella who's on the verge of losing their mind to you

[eunique]

Nothing fills me with more joy than getting home from work in time for dinner and both siblings are being fucking cunts

[pistol-kitten]

btw at work today that girl who said she killed her parents told me she communicated with aliens last night and then gave me a full, accurate description of what Dan looks like without seeing them so. there's whatever the fuck that was

[minniethefoxie]

Okay, just a little rant but-

Fr, if one more person likes this post without liking a single one of my other art posts I'm gonna delete this one I swear-

Little baby in the egg shell 💖

[v-tired-queer]

Idk who else needs to hear this, but after a certain age, you're allowed to expect the same respect that your parents expect from you, from them. Yes, even if you aren't financially doing anything "helpful" yet, but you still work your ass off in other ways to help around the house or with errands or with kids, etc. At some point, you get to the be the adult that you are, weather they like it or not.

[curtins]

GREEDY — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → pretty, prodigal, and teasing. how far can you push your former teacher before he snaps? gojo's about this 🤏 close from releasing a hollow purple on the world.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. màstúrbation (m.) and rough sèx, creaḿpie. some angst/doubt. angsty love confession before gojo póunds reader into the mattress. incorrect use of reversed curse technique. arguments and stuff. description of injuries. def mean!gojo a bit and he's got vampire tendencies.

reader is of legal age (implied to be 19-20) and gojo is 28 so age gap!romance. obsessed!gojo and popular girl!reader trope. gojo is absolutely a mess in this, and reader is described as wearing short skirts, and wearing makeup.

rather questionable ethics and dynamics (teacher/former student) but rest assured its clear that his feelings are pretty recent. reader has him twirled and whipped around her fingers. reader is also def a baddie and ambiguously bi.

word count. 8.7k words im mad actually. this was meant to be headcanons song inspiration. greedy — tate mcrae

a/n. this is was gonna be from reader's pov but i thought it would be more fun from gojo's 🙂‍↔️

mp3. i see you eyeing me down, but you'll never know much past my name. or how i'm running this room, but i'm still half your age. yeah, you're looking at me like i'm some sweet escape 😛

gojo satoru was not a weak man, no. he knew that he was an anomaly of nature, an unstoppable power that could reduce enemies to dust and make entire clans crumble with nothing more than a flick of his wrists.

so how was it, that when it came to you, his resolve was paper-thin?

every time your open gaze met his, every time you brushed past him, every time your presence filled the space around his infinity, gojo felt something inside him unravel. his breath would be caught in his chest, leaving his pulse to quicken and suddenly, all that strength and control would slip through his fingers.

gojo cursed himself for this, you see. he had never been one to lose control, but he was not quite sure when his entire body has started to betray him.

but no, fuck that, and he did his utter best to run his focus back onto the lesson at hand. unfortunately, the lesson at hand was with you. standing in front of him, arms slightly raised, palms out, and raising your brow as boredom passed over your face.

gojo cleared his throat, "your stance is good, but your cursed energy is all over the place. focus, breathe. centre yourself is what i'm saying," he instructed, but the words felt hollow as they passed through his lips.

unfairly, you're weren't the problem. he was. and now this was getting ridiculous. you had graduated not two, three years past? it would have been a disservice to still call you his student, but even as a mentee, you were still under his tutelage. and as recent as this immature infatuation was, this felt wrong.

but now you were frowning, starting to waver and the sharp, staccato tap of your heeled boot punctuated the wooden floor, click, click!

gojo looked to the sky, briefly, if to pray for patience and a calm of some sorts. he stepped forwards towards you, placing a hand on your waist to guide you into a better stance, and trying to ignore the way your skin felt warm underneath his fingers.

focus.

"don't let your body twist like that when you utilise your own cursed energy. keep it straight, balanced," he muttered, adjusting your posture slightly, hand on your spine — the heel of his palm pressing into a dent. a deity from the sky must have struck him with a cursed arrow, for his whole body was on fire.

because there you were, standing right in front of him, so close that gojo could feel the soft heat of your breath, the faint scent of a sweet perfume wafting off your skin, vanilla?

"you're not focused," gojo grimaced, though he wasn't sure if the rebuke was at himself, or at you — whose eyes widened briefly, and gojo tried not to recognise the curiosity and challenge that flashed across your face.

look at how she's staring at me. and gojo felt utterly ridiculous, and exposed, she knows. but instead of pulling away, you shifted ever so slightly towards him, your body arching as the barest brush of your breasts against his forearm had heat pulling through his body.

would you taste as sweet as you smelt? would you lean more into him if he asked?

he cleared his throat, "okay. relax, not every stance or position works for an individual. perhaps, you'll be able to focus better like this," and with his hand still on your waist, he pulled you into a swift spin. one that left your back pressed against the hard planes of the chest, and you facing the other wall.

you hummed, this time not in the way he wanted. your lips were lightly parted, and there was that soft sheen of gloss catching the light, making your lips look impossibly soft. gojo caught himself staring, wandering what it would be like to press his own mouth to yours, and whether you would squeal or moan.

still, if there was anything that gojo was good at, it was deflecting like a champ, "i think you're distracted," he laughed, low and amused, "is something making you lose focus?"

you tilted your head, and gojo didn't miss (nor did his heart or groin) that your gaze flickered to his mouth for the briefest second before meeting his eyes again, feigning innocence, "don't tell me you're underestimating me, sensei. because i'd hate to think you can't keep up?"

gojo bit back a grin at the obvious bait, "careful," brushing strands of white hair that had fallen into his face away, "if you get too cocky, you tend to miss danger. you start to ignore things that should be noticed."

your voice dropped to a droll whisper, eyes glinting, "you think i don't notice things? i'm aware of plenty."

gojo forced himself to focus, to ignore the way that your lashes flutter with unshakable composure. trying to regain control, or some semblance of mind, he started counting each individual lash painted dark with mascara, lingering on the outermost curls that framed your sharp eyes.

after a beat, he forced himself to break eye contact, "alright," he said, stepping back with a casual shrug that he hoped conveyed just how nonchalant he was, "we’ll call it a day here and continue training tomorrow."

"backing out already?" you teased, leaning in just a little, making him tense at the closeness.

gojo chuckled, feigning nonchalance. "for your sake. you may be powerful, but you have to pace yourself."

you shrugged, nodding, "i'm going out anyway this evening," you said, hopping back a step before bending down to gather your things. gojo politely averted his gaze, his heart hammering from your previous proximity, and desperately hoping to avoid a...reaction, that would be quite inconvenient, as wide and loose as his martial pants were. like a fuckin' school boy with a crush. gross.

but as you slung your pastel bag over your shoulder and straightened up, he couldn't help a quick glance, catching the small, coy glimmer in your eyes as you turned to leave.

gojo sighed, pulling up his blindfold once more, "have fun," he half-heartedly offered, but you were already out the door.

the corridors were now empty, the clang of metal and chatter now silent, replaced with a quiet hum of the air conditioning. gojo wiped his face with the towel wrapped around his neck, the damp fabric clinging to his skin and the muscles in his arms and chest still warm from the intensity of training. his arms and chest glistened, the muscles warm and taut as he stretched, rolling his shoulders back with a low groan. exhaustion settled into him like a weight, each movement of his tired, bare torso slow and deliberate.

"oh, you're still here, sensei?"

gojo's eyes snapped open, drawn to the sound of your inquisitive voice. you stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the hallway, and he immediately felt a rush of heat flood his chest.

well, fuck, now his mouth was dry. clearly, your previous iteration of 'going out' was a bit more glamorous than you had led on, and he was certain his wandering eyes betrayed him as it flickered over your figure. it took a titan's strength to keep his eyes from trailing down your long legs, the way your dress hugged the swell of your chest, or over your glistening neck. there was a faint shimmer, a glitter of some sort? it coated your skin, and gojo wanted to lick it off with his tongue.

what? no. who said that?

he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his composure.

you scowled at his reaction, clearly mistaking his silence for distaste. "what? i did say i was going somewhere," you retorted, your tone sharp but amused. "i’m more than allowed to leave the campus grounds.”

"of course,” he replied, voice outstandingly steady but his mind still trailing after every curve, every detail that made you look...well...dangerous in the best way, "don't let me stop you. who's the lucky guy?"

you arched a brow, folding your arms over your chest, and now, gojo really did have to look away and pretend that he was busy with retying a dark piece of cloth over his eyes, "who said it was a guy?"

gojo thickly swallowed, wondering if he'd just made a colossal blunder with no return, "that's not what i meant." the words 'my bad' stuck in his throat as you laughed and sighed.

"joking, sorry. it's a guy, this time." now you were fiddling with your long nails, with a satisfying clack as they ran across each other.

"i hope he shows you a great time then," he offered, half-hearted, blasé.

you took a step into the room, and gojo didn't even need six eyes to know that your eyes were raking over his chest, "i'm sure he will," all sweetness and sugar, "i've been training so hard, i deserve it, don't i?"

the words hit him harder than he expected, and he had to remind himself — she's not yours, satoru. but that didn't stop the gruff irritation bubbling up.

"a real man should be taking you out on a date like this,” he said, his voice a bit too rough for his liking. "not some guy who’s probably just looking for a good time."

you scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes. "are you saying that there's someone else out there who can do a better job?" your tone was playful, but there was a challenge in it — an edge that made his heart skip once more, "sadly, there just aren't many who've handled me well."

he ignored your immature, faux pout, and ran a hand through damp, icy hair — ignoring how his temper flared, rearing its ugly head.

was this all on purpose? to toy with him?

"you want to be handled, sweetheart?" gojo's voice dropped a little lower, indulging your teasing, "i've seen you lose focus easily, you could easily break."

your lips creased up, painted a tempting shade of dried-blood red (what the fuck was wrong with him? was he now just a horny vampire?) as you purred, "i'd need some help testing out that theory." your expression was open just enough for him to see the tiniest flicker of something in your eyes — something that told him you were enjoying this far more than you should.

an invitation of sorts, he wondered. did you want him to move? to make a move? it wasn’t a secret that you had always been a popular student practically a legend, rumours swirling around you like wildfire — whispers of broken hearts and sweetened smiles that could captivate anyone in your path. he had never paid attention of course, gossip always ran wild among students and he discouraged such whispers of who-did-what, for a grade 1 curse would never indulge such behaviour before they would get torn to shreds.

and even now, long after graduation as you worked around your old alma mater, men and women — everyone swooned at the chance to speak with you, and yet, here you were, playing this dangerous game with him.

gojo scowled, trying to push past the desire building inside him, the urge to have you underneath him, right on this mat in the training room. "well, don’t hang around too long," he said, his tone sharp as a blade. "i’m sure your date is waiting. go have a good time."

invitation declined. the morally right thing to do. right?

he didn’t need to look to see the small sneer that curled at the corner of your lips, or the way it turned into a fleeting expression of annoyance. he could hear the click of your heels echo down the hallway as you sashayed out.

what the everlasting fuck was wrong with him?

lo and behold, the great gojo satoru often found himself alone in his own private rooms. for 'the strongest' rarely had time to accommodate some other forms of company.

and frankly, he had no desire to do so now regardless. not when the echoes of your clicking heels still reverberated in his mind. the silence that echoed around him was heavy, suffocating and he was sure he looked erratic.

gojo ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the thought of you. but it was useless. his body was still on fire, the heat of jealousy smouldering in his chest, coiling in his gut like something alive, something dangerous. he had walked to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, his legs splayed wide apart as his shoulders slumped under the soft, amber glow of the setting sun that streamed through the windows. the sorcerer let his head fall back against the chair, eyes closed.

how absolutely ridiculous, he thought, running his fingers through his tousled hair. no, he just couldn't stop it. couldn't stop thinking about how badly he wanted you. wanted you to want him too. and now, with the way you’d left, with that knowing smile on your lips, all he could imagine was the man you were with now, the man who’d be holding the door open for you, who’d be pulling out your chair, whoever the hell he was.

maybe even a casual, non-sorcerer. some random guy that you had indulged because he was no threat. but he wouldn't be able to touch you, not in the way that you demanded. the man would laugh at your jokes, brush his hand against yours, but wouldn't be able to let a real smile bubble from your lips like satoru could.

and what would that man do next?

would he try to take you back to his place? some small poorly-lit apartment where he'd try to kiss you, to claim your lips without even pulling away for air. would you kiss him back, curling into his frame?

before gojo's even registered what he's doing, his own hand has found his hard cock. despite the tattle of assistance, and dreamy-eyed mongers, pleasure is rare for him. relief, even less so. his schedule just doesn't allow it, and so he oft find himself chasing some distant contentment like this, alone in his rooms.

but he squeezes at the wide hilt, at his base, pulling his hands up, upwards as his brows furrow under blindfold, and he tugs the offending fabric off, away from him, as laden balls smack against his wrist.

maybe the man would then trail his lips down your neck, maybe he'd try to slowly sink his teeth into delicate flesh, leaving blooming purple marks that wouldn't fade, not when gojo saw you tomorrow.

he's running his curled hand up towards the fat mushroom tip, almost glowing pink with heat and pre-cum that's leaving his hand slicked with faint moisture, "shit, that's it."

then what? he can imagine your teasing smile as you decide to take your pleasure as you see fit. how you'd suddenly push this faceless man off, and move so you're straddling him, letting his hands wander around the curve of your hips, digging into plush flesh.

now he's starting to pant, open-mouthed, "ah - fuck! wish i had you here, right here." gojo must be a madman, breathing out to the empty, open air.

but in his mind's eye, you're reaching behind your back to undo the zipper on your outstandingly tight dress, giving the faceless man a coy smile as you push the fabric of your dress down, letting your plentiful tits spill out and against the man's chest.

his wrist is moving faster now, and there's a cramp starting to build up as he pistons his hand over his stretched shaft, and one arm is thrown over his face — the soft hairs on his thick forearm tickling his face as he tries not to gasp or whine too loudly, but he's bucking his ups now, pretending that it's not his hand that he's spilling into, but your tight cunt. and later, he shudders and tenses up, with apologies whispered into the air, "look, look - shit, i'm sorry - i'm sorry. couldn't help it, fuck." and gojo's bitten his lips so hard that he's certain he's drawn blood, vibrant red blooming on pale, creamy skin.

and a lamp had exploded as he came. damn, he'd have to replace that.

you don't deserve someone like him, no. not when he's sitting here, absolutely filthy with thick, white seed entirely over his tense abdominal muscles and stiff hand. not when he's trying to catch his breath after imagining how snug your pussy would feel around him, and how you'd beg for him to give it to you harder.

you didn't deserve someone so messed up with guilt, with mistakes, with the kind of weight that made him too much for anyone, let alone someone like you. didn't you deserve better than a tortured man who couldn't control himself, better than an overzealous mentor who was supposed to keep his distance, to do what was right.

but that didn’t stop his thoughts from swirling, as he separated damp, thick thighs from the smooth surface of the chair, reaching for a tissue. he couldn’t help it. and it made him feel like a damn fool.

the meeting room buzzed with tension, voices rising in sharp, clipped exchanges — some angry, some demanding and others clueless and questioning. gojo had woken up in a foul mood that morning, with some ill-gotten storm brewing beneath his chest. perhaps it was the thoughts of you that lingered from the night before, a gnawing jealously that left him feeling too tight in the stiffness of the uniform dress pants.

but he had forced himself to be dragged through this meeting, plastering a snarky light-hearted grin over his face as he leaned against the wall, letting the higher-ups argue themselves into oblivion.

amidst the storm of words, gojo's focus was nowhere near the mission being discussed. no, his attention was fixated entirely on you. you stood at the far end of the table, eyes flashing with ire as you tore into some pompous old fool who’d dared question your power. the others in the room shifted uncomfortably, deferring to you, as they often did, despite your youth. you had that rare combination of presence and bite that made people recoil back when you sunk your teeth into them, and this was not a knot gojo was interested in unraveling.

kojiro, one of the bumbling administrators, had turned his babbling attention to gojo, "you're still planning to face that curse head-on, gojo-san?" the poor man is wringing his hands at gojo's flat look (made all the more unreadable through a blindfold, satoru would wager), "don't you think it would be well - unwise? instead of expending your time and energy on one cursed spirit, you could handle five lesser ones. efficiency, you see."

gojo's gaze briefly flickers back to you, standing with your arms crossed as one hand fiddles with the end of your braid as your petal-pink lips scowl at some other official with words that don't fit his stature. your other hands keeps reaching around your neck, adjusting a plaid scarf over and over, like you're desparate to hide something under the fabric . well, fuck that.

"i'm aware of the risks," gojo turns his attention back to the matter, "but no one here has time for hesitation. if the curse is special grade, don't you at least think that delaying with lead to more destruction?"

"is it really the cursed spirit you’re worried about, takumi-san?" you asked, your voice low, the kind of voice that could make someone forget their own name.

gojo's gaze snapped to you from under the blindfold, but you weren’t looking at him, not even speaking at him. instead, you were locking eyes with one of the other sorcerers — takumi, a grade two with a shaggy mop of golden hair, one who had been a student alongside you and hardly subtle in his admiration for you.

gojo tries to hide a scoff at how takumi's eyes are wandering over you, ignoring the newpapers that have been flattened on the meeting table, with bold inked letters reading doom-portents such as 'unexplained explosion, 4 dead and 12 injured."

time and place, man.

"you don't think i can handle this mission. if you're worried about me, just say so," takumi's now leaning into you, even as gojo tries to train his ear on kojiro's economic-obsessed babble instead.

gojo can see your eyes flicker to the dastardly newspapers as well, clearly curling your lips at the dour news and takami's disastrous attempt at getting his hands under your skirt. but he also knows that sharp glint in your eyes, the one when you toy with those around you, to pull them in without ever committing to anything. clearly, you've decided to indulge this game.

"takumi," and you draw out the younger man's name, "shouldn't you bring more strength to the table? of course, i'm worried about a friend getting hurt. but even if you were stronger, or the strongest, a special grade curse could do some real damage."

and your eyes have flicked right towards gojo, raking over his frame leaning against the pale cream walls. he's glad for the blindfold, so you can't see how he scowls and furrows his thin brows at you, at your blatant hopes for a reaction from him. were you so unobservant that you did not know how much you bothered him?

the pointed sharpness in your words made takumi pause, and for just a moment, gojo could see the man’s grin falter. it was clear that you weren’t impressed by his attention, you had no need for his slimy attempts.

there was no mistake about it — this wasn’t just a flirtation. this was a game you played, and gojo was not only aware of it; he was caught in it. he tries not to feel irrationally angry, fuck, so much of his life revolves around his work, his job and now he can't even do that properly without feeling like you're using your long nails to dangle something in front of him, wanting to snap his teeth out and snatch it.

so you wanted him to see this. you wanted to claim that you could unravel the strongest sorcerer from the heavens to the earth below, to make him lose his composure. gojo feels as if there is crackling ozone in the air, and wonders dimly if the weather forecast predicted a rain storm for later today.

takumi, sensing the shift, finally backed off with a huff, but not before giving all around him a lingering look, as if it was their fault that you weren't interested.

"enough distractions," kojiro's interjected, raking a finger through a beard streaked with gray, and he's shooting a pointed look at you, snapping rose-pink gum, and takumi, shuffling with his hands in his pockets. "we're here to discuss the mission, not flirt." and then, he's off mumbling something about how this was why he hated having younger sorcerers join the meeting rooms.

his ire only grew. gojo stood with his back against the wall, outside the meeting room, once everyone had left with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. you stood in front of him, your eyes flashing with anger, your chest rising and falling with each sharp breath.

"absolutely not," gojo stood his ground firmly, "no-one will let you go on this mission."

you stomped on the floor, once as your heels snapped an echo, "they will if you say so."

gojo stuffs his hands in his pockets, "who said that i would also allow you?"

you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest, mimicking his previous stance but with a clear defiance in your posture. "and why the hell not? i'm more than capable of handling it. it's my fucking choice, and how can extra help hurt?"

"enough!" gojo snapped, feeling a tense pain in between his eyes, "it's too dangerous. and you're too young -"

"too young!" you've interrupted him, "i'm not some helpless child, sensei. i'm a grade 1 sorcerer! one of the best, i don't need to be treated like i can't handle a mission."

"grade 1. not special-grade."

his eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. gojo could see the fury in your eyes, but there was something else there, something deeper, a vulnerability that he had seen before in students, some desire to prove themselves and be heaped with praise. he knew you were good, better than most — hell, better than many of the adults he’d seen. but this cursed spirit was unlike anything you’d faced before. and yet, here you were, challenging him, pushing him, daring him to stop you.

"you don’t get it," he muttered, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. "you think you’re invincible, but you’re not. you're too reckless."

"reckless!" now you had taken a step towards him, narrowing the space between you both. your eyes were fierce now, but there was something else in them — a spark of hurt that made his chest tighten, and gojo began to wander where this would start spiral. "i’m not reckless. i know exactly what i’m doing. the only reckless thing here is you thinking you have the right to control my every move."

"i'm the one in charge here," he said, his voice hoarse, the words coming out sharper than he intended. "and i'm telling you now, you’re not going. you’re not ready for this. don't involve the higher-ups in this."

you were so close now, just inches apart. his eyes flicked to your lips, with the arch of a blooming flower kissed by the sun, for a brief moment, and then back up to your face, where anger and frustration mixed with something else — a challenge.

"maybe that’s the problem," you said, your voice quieter now, but still holding an edge. "you think i'm still some child who needs you to tell me what to do. maybe you just don’t want me to outshine you."

the words are ridiculous, and he can see by the mild quiver as your throat bobs that you don't mean what you say. it takes a rare type of courage to tell the first person in four hundred years to be born with limitless and six eyes, that he could be outshined. but satoru doesn't say a word to rebuke your obvious and false bait.

your body is so close now that gojo could feel the heat of your skin, your breath brushing against his. he could smell the faint sweetness of vanilla again in the air mingled with fresh, crisp apples, could see the subtle shine of your lip gloss catching the light. it was a testament to his spirit, he thinks, that he did not lean in straight away and touch his mouth to yours in this scenario that certainly did not warrant it.

"you want me to stop you that badly?" he hissed, his voice a mix of frustration and something darker, that had not yet snapped. "is that what this is? a game? a way for you to get my attention? to see how far you can push me before i do snap?"

now he's got your tongue, and your expression has flickered for a brief moment before schooling into an impassive mask, and gojo briefly wanders if he's crossed an awful line and misinterpreted everything. if they're gonna stick a white dunce hat on his head and parade him through the streets of outer tokyo for being an assuming fool.

but then you've stepped even closer, your breath coming faster, the weight of your chest almost pressed against his, and gojo doesn't move and he's briefly aware that he's let his infinity down.

"partly, you know it's not just about you though. i do want to go on this mission, but -" you tilt your head and look right up at him, and the older man's head starts to reel from the fact that he was right all along, "i do want to see how far you can go before you snap."

his heart pounded, and for a moment, everything went still. all the tension, all the heat, the anger, and the desire — everything seemed to converge in the space between you. gojo's hand twitched, aching to touch you, but he held himself back, his muscles straining with the effort.

"stop,” he rasped, barely able to get the word out. "you don’t know what you’re doing, or what you're asking for."

he's never felt quite like this before, breathless as if the air has been punched out of his lungs. all gojo could think was how much he wanted to pull you closer, to kiss you until there was nothing left between you.

but he couldn’t.

he puts his hands on your shoulders, fingers digging into the expensive fabric of your top, and gently pushes you away.

"my decision is final. don't make this harder than this, you're forbidden from the mission."

how sick and twisted, that you've fled with embarrassed tears pricking at your eyes, and he's stuck with a raging erection.

well, he had seen worse. but it didn't make this curse any less vicious. it was ancient, he could presume, and maddening. its cursed energy was warping the night air like a violent storm. but again, not the worst thing that he had encountered in his twenty-eight years, and with the right timing, he'd been able to calculate every strike and counter.

but then he saw you.

at first, he thought it was a blur — a trick of the light. but then, there you were, standing at the edge of the pavement, your figure framed by the chaotic crackle of cursed energy. fuck your stubborn nature.

this is not what is meant to happen. gojo's heart has skipped a beat, and he's not sure what he's more furious with. you, for defying his concern for your safety. or himself, for getting so distracted in. a battle.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?"

yes, he knows you're good. good enough to move with precision against a special-grade curse, your stance instantly and suspiciously better than the other day in the training rooms. it's only through his six eyes that gojo has been able to keep a track of your movements as your jujutsu is able to dodge the creature's brutal force.

impressive. but reckless.

and that never lasts.

you had moved to cast your own cursed technique, but the curse was intelligent enough to anticipate it. with a sudden lash of its tail, the creature swung its power straight at you, knocking you off balance. you stumbled, your footing lost, and before you could react, a flash of dark energy slicing across your shoulder.

a scream had torn from your lips as you fell to the ground, blood spurting from the deep cut.

and briefly, just for a flicker of time, gojo sees a dark-haired man in violet robes leaning against a brick wall, with his shoulder torn off, 'at least curse me one last time.'

blood rushing in his ears, before he even realised it, he was on top of you, his body hovering over yours, his jujutsu flaring as he shoved the cursed spirit back with a brutal force that made the earth tremble, an exorcism that will not take long. he kneeled beside you, his breath ragged, eyes locked on the wound on your shoulder. the blood was already soaking your clothes, darkening the fabric as you winced, your breath shallow and unsteady.

"you —” gojo isn't sure if his hand isn't shaking from how irate he is, "what the hell were you thinking? fuck, don't move."

your eyes were unfocused for a moment, but when they snapped to him, there was defiance there — even in this moment (get a grip!), as you gritted your teeth against the pain.

"save it, it's fine," you spat, your voice weak but vexed, "that bitch is still there."

"what did i tell you! what did i say would happen?" he cursed under his breath, focusing his reversed cursed technique as he tried to heal you, but the moment felt like an eternity as bright red blood moved too fast for him to seize it.

an assassin's blade in his throat, his arteries giving way and bubbling out and up.

now you don't answer, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. gojo's gaze darted to the cursed spirit, which was now advancing again, enraged by the interruption.

it won’t touch you again.

he stood, pulling you away from him, your body slumping slightly out of his arms. he could feel the heat of your blood soaking through his sleeve, but he had no time to dwell on it. the curse roared in fury, and gojo's infinity flared up around him again, a shield of pure energy blocking its path.

"stay down,” he growled, and all he received was a weak, "fuck, you think that's funny?"

it's only later when he's pulling you back up, that he realises that his reversed cursed energy has done enough to stem the bleeding, but not enough to leave you unharmed as your breath is shallow, your face taking on a more sickly pallor.

"don’t you ever — ever —do that again," he snarled, his voice raw and he wonders when something (or someone) has ever undone him so much. but the anger in his voice doesn't carry to his touch as he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, tracing the lines of your jaw.

the sterile walls of your room did nothing to soften the tension in gojo's chest as he stood by your bed, his eyes tracing the curve of your sullen form beneath the sheets. your shoulder was bandaged, with red seeping slowly through the white strips.

"you really are unbelievable," he snapped, his voice sharp as he paced around the room, every step heavy with frustration. "i told you it was too dangerous. i told you not to fucking go."

you lay there, your eyes half-closed, as though you weren’t even listening, but the twitching frown on your lips is sign enough that you're not as sorry. his fingers flexed at his sides, itching to do something — anything — to release the tension building in him.

"are you even listening to me?" he know he sounds bitter, over-reactionary, angry as he moved towards the edge of your bed.

you blinked slowly, your gaze still infuriatingly calm, "i'm fine, now. save the lecture."

he doesn't want to start sputtering so he settles for crossing his arms over his chest, but your voice breaks the silence again.

"you know i want to be a special grade sorcerer, right?"

gojo only looks down, not wanting to indulge an excuse and he studies the tight grip of his knuckles on his slender fingers, "well, i don't know why. the pay isn't that good." it's a weak attempt at a joke, but you're smiling.

"i was told i could only become one if i was the one to exorcise that special grade."

"by who? the higher-ups?" and you nod, wincing as you do.

what a fucking surprise. the way that the jujutsu world works is no surprise to gojo by now, having been surrounded by it his entire life. but the harshness of their reality still shocks him, old and doddering officials who cling to their silk robes are prone to sending out younger sorcerers (those who are still green, barely out of school) to do their dirty work for them, and the cemetery outside of jujutsu tech is ever growing.

he ground his teeth together, his chest tightening as he stared down at you. the bandages, the damp skin, the stillness of your body — it made him want to tear something apart. "fine! if they were giving you a hard time, why didn't you just come to me then?" he repeated harshly.

"would you go ask someone to help you, for something like this? if you were asked to prove yourself?"

gojo runs his tongue behind his teeth, "i'm the strongest, princess. i don't need to ask for help."

you groan, turning your head away from him, but a faint smile dances upon your lips.

he inhales sharply, his fingers digging into the edge of the bed. "you think this is a joke?"

"all four limbs are attached and i'm living and breathing. okay, so fine. my bad. i won't do it again. will you stop snapping at me now, at everything -" and gojo wonders if there's really some hurt colouring your voice, "what's going on?"

the words slip out, rough and unrestrained. "what’s going on is that you’re driving me insane. you act like this doesn’t matter, like i can just stand by and let you throw yourself into danger like it’s nothing — like you don’t matter — but you do. you do matter."

his chest was heaving now, his hands shaking as he reached out and grabbed your wrist. his thumb brushed over your pulse, the tiny fluttering beneath your skin driving him wild. "i can’t — i can’t just stand there and watch you get hurt," he continued, his voice hoarse. "you don’t get to do whatever you want without consequences, damn it. you don’t get to make me feel this way, and then pretend like it doesn’t matter."

for a moment, there was silence. gojo's pulse was hammering in his ears, his body coiled with the intensity of everything he was trying to say. everything he was trying not to say. everything he wanted to act upon.

and then, with a slow, almost lazy smile, you turned towards him, "i didn't know the great gojo satoru was like this. who would have thought?"

his breath hitched in his throat. gojo wanted to say something, to snap at you again, to maintain that distance — but the truth was that the distance between the two of you had disappeared these past few weeks. his chest tightened, his hands trembling as they slid to your face, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, and he relished how your facade almost cracked and you lightly shivered.

at least, he hoped you were shivering because of his touch. and not, like, a fever building up from your injuries.

fuck it.

and then, before he could stop himself, gojo was leaning down, his lips crashing into yours with all the force he could muster, desparate and hungry and that frustration and fear that he had been holding onto. his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you towards him with a force that made your breath catch, as you responded with a soft gasp.

had he misstepped? no, for you kissed him back, tentatively at first, as if you were testing the waters, but then building up to a sudden urgency that mirrored his own. your hands slid to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pushed yourself closer to him, before crying out.

"ah! fuck, my shoulder."

small beads of blood surfaced where your collarbone met your shoulder, each one glistening like tiny rubies against your warm skin. they gathered slowly, delicate droplets that clung to you before tracing faint, uneven lines downward. the red stood out, vivid and fresh, dotting your skin in a stark, almost mesmorising gojo as they welled up and began to trick in thin, crimson trails.

"stay still," gojo rasped, his voice low and rough as he leaned in, pressing closer. his mouth met the fresh blood pooling on your skin, tongue tracing over the small rivulets that had seeped from beneath the bandage.

he lingered, almost savouring the taste, his eyes darkening as the sharp tang of iron lingered on his tongue, smacking his lips slightly as he drew back, gaze fixed intently on you, on your heavy breathing as he stole away another kiss from you.

gojo's lips left yours briefly, his breath ragged as he stared down at you, his eyes wild underneath the blindfold, gasping as your nails reached up to hook the fabric down so his hair loosened, falling around his face.

you were staring back at him, breathless and wide-eyed, and in that moment, gojo knew — he couldn’t stay away from you. no matter how much he tried.

your lips were soft, so soft, but there was fire behind the way you kissed him back, your hands landing on his chest, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. he groaned, deep in his throat, and his fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you closer.

his mouth moved urgently over yours as he shifted to stand beside the bed, his body hovering over you, every muscle tense, straining with the desire that he had tried so hard to ignore. gojo just couldn't think about anything else.

and your lips broke apart only briefly, and you let out a soft laugh, that damn, dangerous laugh of yours. "you're greedy, you know that."

his chest heaved, and his heart pounded in his ears, and blood was now pounding to his nether regions. he wasn’t sure if it was the previous anger or the ache between his ribs, but he couldn’t stop himself as he threaded his fingers through your soft hair, "i am greedy. greedy for you. only you - mmph! shit!"

you had run your long, painted nails (with the little painted charms on the end) down his neck before pressing them, hard enough to cause a sharp sting.

"you wanted to put me through hell," he whispered harshly, and his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, "until i realised i liked it. until i realised i wanted you, all of you."

his hands moved down to your waist, squeezing gently as his lips found the tender spot beneath your ear, trailing kisses there, letting his teeth sink in, to see small bruises appear. gojo's breath was ragged as he fought to keep control, and something deeper inside of him roared with the need to claim you completely.

"you’re mine," he growled against your skin, the words hot and possessive. "i don't care what happens. you’re mine now."

you tilted your head, still smiling, but this time there was something different in your eyes — something that burned with the same intensity. "if i'm yours, what are you going to do about it? hmm, satoru?"

and that final thread, that last remnant of honour that he had been nurturing and holding onto, snapped.

"is this what you want, princess?" he draws out the nickname, letting it roll off his tongue, as you suddenly inhale sharply. his hands are all over you now, large hands exploring and kneading at your torso, and before he can even let you blink, they're under your top.

he's pressing his hot mouth to your sternum, wet and open-mouthed, and he wonders what sort of effect you have on him. what force in the world leave him panting like this, desparate as his hands find their way behind your back, to unclip whatever's holding your tits in place — just so he can reach back and run his palms over your hard nipples, flicking them and rolling them in between his fingers.

and faintly, in the back of his mind, he's aware that his reversed cursed technique must be working overtime, because suddenly you're rolling forward into him with no care in the world for your previously injured shoulder, as your own hands trail down the front of body, right over his bulge.

but he slaps your hand away, pressing you flat against the mattress, "fuck, not yet. you think i'm just going to let you get away with all this," and as you mewl a soft yes, followed by a please, he rolls his eyes, "wait. behave and i'll give you what you want."

and then, softer, "need to make sure you're ready first."

his arms are caging both sides of your head, and he's got one hand on the headboard (although, you will marvel at the burnt imprint that he's left, later) and the other is tearing your top off, just so he can lean down and let his canines press into the soft fat of your chest, so he can slip a pointed nipple into his mouth and tug it, ever so gently.

but gojo needs to continue lower, and his hand squeezes at the waistband of your short skirt, snapping the elastic twice as you heave your bare chest, "please, please, satoru!"

it's heaven down here for him, and gojo's dizzy at how outstandingly wet you are, with just a single swipe of his fingers in the soft, damp fabric of your underwear.

your clear, sticky arousal clung to his fingers, stretching in thin, glistening threads as he spread your thighs apart, knocking your knees to either side so he could slot himself in between them. your slick shimmered slightly under the light, translucent and tacky and he just couldn't help himself, bringing them up to his mouth to slowly taste.

"shit, princess. you taste so good, can't believe this is what i've been missing out on."

he's playing an instrument, he thinks. gliding his fingers along sodden folds, twirling his index finger past a thick wad of skin and pressing right over your clit in hot, tight circles that have you bucking your hips, "hnngh, right - ah, right there 'toru!"

'toru.

as a reward, he plunges his middle finger straight into your gaping heat, your tight wall of ringed muscles that had been fluttering in light pulses for his attention. fuck, he almost reaches his own climax by feeling how you squirm and writhe, moan and mewl as he starts pushing his finger in, and then out.

in, and then out. in, once more. and out, again. and then, another finger.

his fingers sank into your soft, damp pussy — which yielded easily enough with a soft pssh! as the digits pressed in. gojo pulled his hand back out from your thighs, enjoying the tight resistance and suction as your cunt has resisted being empty once more, leaving a cool moistness on his skin.

but now your hands gently cup his face, and he isn't sure how to not crumble with how you look at him, eyes wide and glossy, "wan' more, want your cock, 'toru."

now, gojo feels as though he's truly ascended, gone onto some higher plane of existence. because how can he resist when your hands are weakly pawing at his belt, at his waistband and he's letting you pull his thick shaft out.

it's hot, and already weeping angry tears of pre-cum, and he just loves how your eyes widen at the sheer size and girth.

"yeah, princess was sooo brave earlier, wasn't she? wanted my cock, ah! shit - did she?" and he's letting the wide tip lay heavy against your clit, knocking it once, and then twice, through your heavenly folds.

you've reached a leg up, and around his waist, pulling him closer and gojo has to pierce his lip with his teeth to not let out a gutteral groan from his cock sliding through the your folds, "i don't - don't care, i really don't fucking care if it's too big. just put it in now, m' so wet, i'm wet enough."

your babble is endearing, and he marvels at how easily he has you cock-drunk without even being in you right now. he jostles further, until the tip is right at your flittering entrance, pressing forward and slipping through the heated, slick gummy texture in a way that has the strongest's head spinning.

"easy, princess. oh fuck, you're too tight. way too tight, i'm gonna -" and gojo inhales, steadying himself, as the wet heat enveloped him as he moved, each slide through the soft walls of your pussy leaving him acutely aware of every inch, the warmth coating him further until your slick was dampening the white, stray hairs of his groin.

he pulls your lips close again, one hand coming up to gently cradle your head, and his fingers weaving slowly through your hair.

"you're so deep in me, 'toru! so - hnngh," and your words are cut off by a staccato thrust of his hips, and your teeth clack around a moan that gojo gladly swallows.

"hey, i'm right here. i've got you, yeah? got you so good, just hold onto me."

and he keeps a steady pace, plunging into molten silk, with a sensation so intense and so enveloping that it left him breathless, with a rush of heat that made his head spin.

he's toying with your tits, pressing his face into the shadow that lies between your mounds, and gojo's certain that he could die a happy man like this, exactly like this.

he realises that the faint laugh is coming from him, so distant is he in his pussy-drunk reverie, that he realises he must look and sound like a madman, "pretty pussy is so tight, so fucking tight. haah, i think i'm gonna have to fill you up, gorgeous?" and he must be blathering, "want me to fill you up? shit- want me to stuff... ah! stuff you so full of cum that we just hafta stay in this bed all day then?"

he had his fingers now moving in circles over your throbbing clit, exerting a gentle pressure that had you so beautifully keening and bucking your hips up, jolting right into his pelvis. and gojo bit back as a groan as his heavy balls started to smack, and smack! over and over again, right onto your dampened skin.

"she must be close right, pretty little pussy must be almost tired now," and gojo's now slapping your clit, lifting three fingers up and bringing them down with enough force to not harm you, but make you jolt, "she. must. be. so. close." and each word is punctuated by the slippery spank of his fingers bouncing right off your mound.

"makes me want to have you - you and her," and gojo's revelling in the slick of your pussy, now throwing his head back without shame.

and when your walls start to flutter, when you start writhing in his grasp, pressed right against his chest with your legs knocked back as far as they reach on other side of his broad frame, he feels himself unravel. feels the rhythmic quake of your tight cunt literally milk him dry, letting pools of thick, white seed plug within you, and he almost shakes and tears up himself, at the idea of claiming you like this.

later, he has you resting against his chest and the knot in his chest, that nasty plague that sent him afoul has disappeared, and gojo feels as though he's about to start purring, from the feeling of your nails trailing little shapes over his skin (little hearts, perhaps?) and how soft your hair feels under his own hands. he can't resist himself from pressing his lips softly to your forehead, "happy?"

you laugh, a genuine, soft sound that erupts from your chest as you press your bare body into him, "you have no idea."

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 3

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +4.7K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, no smut (alluding to sexual situations), heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, Mama, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), fluff, angst, SA (touching, grabbing), mentions of dv & abuse, anxiety, trauma, physical fighting

A/N: I literally haven't written in years. I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

���Girl, what the fuck do you mean you haven't called this man back?” my best friend Monica snapped at me. “I just needed to let one off. I was horny and tired of going on pointless ass dates,” I said groaning back at her.

We were walking into a party her on-again-off-again boyfriend, Jordan, was hosting. There were cars everywhere, and people littered the front lawn of the small house. The music was blasting from the backyard, and the noise consumed the quaint neighborhood.

A cloud of smoke spilled from the rear of the house and engulfed the porch and lawn like a dense fog. The combined thickness of the smoke from the barbecue grill and the heat from the ocean of bodies added to the intensity of the sweltering Southern heat. I was beginning to regret my decision to wear all black.

“You need yo’ ass beat. How the fuck do you let a man dick you down like that and let him get away?” Monica asked cutting across the lawn to enter through the side gate. “I just didn't want anything else,” I said shrugging my shoulders and following her closely. She opened the gate so that we could both walk in. “Look, Monnie. I’m not ready to even entertain a man and his bullshit,” I continued as I closed the gate behind us. “You could have at least kept him as a fuck buddy, ‘Vana, like seriously. Come on. Here we are living in a world where women die never even coming close to experiencing what you did, and you just let him disappear. Are you fuckin' crazy, girl?” she turned to grab my hand.

Monica was trying her hardest to pull us through the swarm of people. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind me. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Over by the gate. Jordan's waitin’ with his friends,” she said. I used one of my hands to hold her body flush with mine while the other gently pushed people out of the way.

Once we made it to the other side of the backyard, Monnie spotted Jordan. She pulled herself from my grasp and went to talk to him. He looked down at her and smirked. He was crossfaded. I knew what this meant for me. I would have to hear them go at it like animals all night or get a hotel room. Now, I will NEVER be jealous of my girl getting hers. Don't get me wrong. It's just that Monnie sounds like a “palm-colored🖐🏻” pornstar when she moans, and I only watch Ebony for a reason.

“Ah, shit,” I said palming my face. “What?” Monnie asked with her eyes still locked on Jordan. “I know what that face means. Jordan finna turn you every which way but loose!” I laughed out loud. Monnie looked at me and burst into laughter. Jordan pulled his cup to his lips and peeked over the rim at me. “As long as Monnie baby knows,” he said peering back at her. “Oouu, shit. Don't start with me, J!” Monnie said pulling him by his collar. They were chest to chest now.

“Just go in the damn house already!” I said laughing at the two of them. They were like two feral dogs in heat. They couldn't look at each other without lust taking over. This is an everyday thing for them. “Fuck it. Bye. See ya’!” Monnie said grabbing Jordan and pulling him towards the house.

“Nasty dogs,” I said laughing to myself. I stood with my back to the fence and began scanning the party. I couldn't find anyone I knew. I saw a guy who looked slightly familiar, and I assumed he was one of Jordan's friends. I looked him over trying to see if that was the connection. He was standing in a smaller crowd of men.

His head turned slowly, and his eyes caught mine. They were deep-set and a warm dark brown. He turned his body to face me. He was tall and dark-skinned. This man's skin was ebony in every facet of the word — smooth and shiny. He bit his lip and winked at me while running his hands across his low-cut Caesar.

I smiled back at him and waved shyly. He nodded back towards me. He leaned in closer to the group of men saying something that caused them to turn around. I instantly became a little uncomfortable and self-conscious. I hated male attention when they were in groups. It made me feel objectified.

He began to walk towards me with a slow and deliberate gait. His stride was graceful yet steady. His large frame cast a large imposing shadow across the ground. His lean upper body was struggling to hide beneath the thin fabric of his white T-shirt. He appears to be at least 6 feet tall. I've never had a type, but this man was doing something to me.

I pushed my back from the tall wooden fence. “How you doin’?” he said leaning over me. His hands were in his pockets. He pulled his hands out slowly and grabbed mine. “Fine, and you?” I asked looking up at him. “Better,” he said licking his lips. They were plump and pink. My eyes followed the movement of his tongue across his lips. “That's cute, love. I kinda feel like I know you from somewhere,” I said looking away from him. “Nah, I'd remember you fa’ sure,” he said smiling.

He leaned in closer to my ear. His breath was warm against my skin. “You right about that,” I said cocking my head to the side. He leaned up to look me directly in the eyes. “You a cocky sumthin’, ain't you?” he said laughing. “I like that shit,” he continued while smiling at me. “Cocky? Me?! Never, baby. I'm just a professional shit-talker. That's all,” I said laughing into his chest. “A professional shit talker? So, you enjoy talking shit, huh? What comes with that?” he asked shifting his weight to gently push me back against the fence.

I paused for a second. I pulled my bottom lip in, biting it lightly. “Fuck around and find out,” I said barely above a whisper. I made sure I was looking him directly in his eyes before I spoke. “Oouu, you… Lord, woman!” he laughed out loud. “See. I already got you calling for the Lord, and I ain't even touched you yet,” I giggled into my hand. He used his hand to play with the frizzy hair at the nape of my neck. I chose to wear my hair in a wash-and-go, but it was being destroyed by the humidity.

“So, what would happen if you touched me?” he asked tracing small circles on my scalp. “It depends. You wanna hear God, or do you wanna see him? I can do both if I like you,” I said placing my hand on his bicep. “Damn! That's how you comin’?” he asked grunting. “And I thought I was doing sumthin' with the stars and the moon,” he said placing his hand on my hip. “Maybe you just need a little encouragement,” I said rubbing up and down his arm. “Hmm, encouragement?” he questioned while raising a single eyebrow. “You know… just a little talking to get you through it,” I said resting my hand on his shoulder.

“Talk me through it then,” he replied as he gestured for me to continue. His hands were now on both sides of my hips. “We're in public. You sure you can handle that,” he said tilting his head again. I leaned in as close as I could. “Before I continue, do you like Big Daddy or Good Boy? I need to know for my pleasure,” I asked snaking my hand to the side of his neck. I used my thumb to stroke his jawline. “What's the difference?” he asked. “Well, if I'm taking care of business, you're a good boy. However, if you're taking care of business, it's Big Daddy. Understand?” I asked gripping the side of his neck firmly. “Mmmm… shit. I think I do,” he grumbled dropping his head. “No, baby. It's either you do, or you don't. I don't like indecisiveness,” I said angling his head back up so that his eyes met mine.

“What's your name, mama?” he asked. “Havana, but you can call me “Big Mama”,” I said snickering into my hand. “I’m Xavier, so you're Big Mama, huh?” he asked sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. His eyes were narrowing in on my lips. “That's only if you're nasty,” I laughed again. “Hmm… How nasty we talking?” he asked snaking his hands around my hips. “How nasty can you get, love?” I asked locking in.

He looked up at me like he was stunned by that question. “Ok. I don't usually repeat myself, but…” I said while moving gently from his grasp. “I'll be as nasty as you need me to be. How nasty can you get?” he asked. “Well, love. It depends on your performance. Energy is matched around here,” I said watching his eyes linger on me again.

*15 minutes later

Xavier and I had been talking the entire time. He seemed like a decent guy, but I didn't want to make the same mistake twice. I honestly feel like with Terry it was a “right place, right time” situation. That's never been my forte. I was usually much more careful and selective when it came to choosing sexual partners. We both share our STD status and the current number of active sexual partners. Moreover, the condom situation was even more of a fuck up for me. I normally supply them myself, so that men can't say shit about not having one. So, when I dropped the ball as badly as I did with Terry, it shook me a little. How could I have been that fucking careless?

“Uh oh, don't let her get you in trouble,” Jordan said while approaching. “Nigga, I'm not worried about that. My shit straight. What that got to do with anything?” Xavier said turning to dap up Jordan. “Where's Monnie?” I asked Jordan. “Inside. She’ll be out in a minute,” he said giggling and shrugging his shoulders. “Ok,” I said looking back at Xavier because his response to J sounded like a red flag. What was he not worried about? What shit was “straight”? Then, why did Jordan shrug like he was saying “whatever”? Was this man hiding something?

I pulled out my phone and texted Monnie. I asked her if she knew anything about Xavier. She asked why immediately. I texted her and told her we had been outside talking this whole time. The text she sent said it all.

Monnie: RUN BITCH! GET IN THE HOUSE NOW!

I immediately thought of a lie I could quickly tell Xavier. I needed to get to Monnie now! “Shit, Monnie needs me!” I said placing my phone back into my purse. “You good?” he asked leaning in and grabbing my chin so that I could face him. “Yeah, baby. Mama's fine. Be safe alright?!” I said loudly as I walked away. “What about your number?” he called out after me. “If we see each other again, I say it was meant to be,” I said winking at him.

I quickly pushed my way towards the rear entrance of the house. The sliding glass door was slightly ajar so that people could go in and out. I entered the door and was met with a cloud of weed smoke. Fuck, I hated that smell. I walked through the house and searched for Monnie. I sent her a text asking where she was.

Monnie: upstairs bedroom

I walked through the crowded living room and crossed the space to get the stairs. I was at the bottom when I felt hands grab my waist from behind. “Where you going, fine ass?” said a man's voice from behind me. “Please, don't do that,” I said removing his hands. I continued up the stairs without looking back. “Fat bitch!” he yelled at me from below. I turned around to see who was speaking. All I could say was, “Ugh!”

I turned back around to continue up the stairs. I located the door to the room where Monnie should be. I lightly knocked on the door before entering. “Fuck are you knocking for? Bring yo’ ass in here!” Monnie yelled through the door. “First of all, fuck you. Now, spill it. Tea time, hoe!” I said laughing as I entered the room.

Monnie was sitting on the bed waiting. I closed the door and locked it. I sat on the bed beside her. I turned my body so that I was facing her. “Girl, he ain't shit. Please, tell me you didn't give him your number?” she asked shaking her head. “Fuck no! Why?” I asked removing my crossbody and placing it on the bed beside me. “Well, for starters, this nigga has a basketball team of kids. He has 4 baby mamas, and there may be a fifth!” Monnie said chuckling. “Damn, 4 baby mamas, and how many kids?” I asked leaning over to rest my head on my palms under my chin. “I think 8. We don't know a for sure number,” she said casually. “The fuck do you mean by that. Do y'all not know a for sure number, or does he not know a for sure number?” I asked eagerly. “He doesn't know himself. He be fuckin' anything that let him. That's why his ass was burnin’ last month,” Monnie said laughing and slapping my shoulder.

That's when it hit me. If I had met Xavier last month instead of Terry, I would be burnin', too. “Burnin' from what?” I asked Monnie. I was serious now. “I think Chlamydia and Gonorrhea. He apparently got it from one of his baby mamas. The only reason we found out is because he gave it to his “situation”, and she came to his house while we were there and cussed his ass out. Girl! She let him have it,” Monnie said hollering at this point. “That's so foul, bro. We were literally outside talking hot shit and getting spicy—,” I said. “Oh, he hot shit alright?” she laughed.

*2 hours later

I had left the party around midnight. As I was driving home, I remembered I needed eggs and almond milk for tomorrow. I knew there was only one store still open this late at night. I honestly didn't feel like getting out again, so I decided against it.

As I was driving, I started to see construction signs. They all read different things— “detour ahead”, “road work ahead”, and “road closed to thru traffic”. The detour sign pointed to the right. That would throw off my entire drive because that meant I couldn't use the nearest entrance to get on the highway with the next one being miles out.

I grew annoyed but turned anyway. What choice did I have? The road was dark and empty. It was way too late at night to be forced to take detours. I was growing uncomfortable with the fact that there were no streetlights, and the road narrowed towards the end before a sharp blind curve. People weren't as careful coming around. Most hugged the middle taking up both lanes in the process.

As I approached, I slowed down almost to a stop. I slowly rolled through the corner hugging my side of the bend. Once I could see straight ahead, I noticed a truck on the side of the road. The hazards were on, but I didn't see anyone inside. As I got closer, my headlights beamed against the outline of a figure at the side of the truck near the rear tire. I could tell it was a man by the way his physique looked leaning against the truck's bed.

Getting closer, I began to watch him out of curiosity. His body leaned up, and he seemed to be turning around to look in my direction. He used his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of my headlights. That's when I saw it. The tattoo on the forearm looked like—— Terry's.

No, it couldn't be. There's no way a random detour put us in the same place at the same time again. The first time we met I wasn’t supposed to be at the store that day. I accidentally dropped all of the eggs I had and cracked them. I had a cake order to make, so I didn't have a choice but to go get more. Now, this.

I rolled down the passenger side window a little as I got closer. I cleared my throat while laughing to myself. I slowed to a stop as I got to the rear of the truck. He walked towards the car, but he didn't approach fully. “Need a ride, handsome. Don't want you out here stranded,” I said in the most country accent I could. The voice I used gave off backwoods barbie. “Nah, I'm good. Go on home,” he said trying to look through the crack of the window.

I could tell that the absence of streetlights and dark tints were working against him. He squinted a little more. “Oh, come on. I can't leave you out here with all these critters and weirdos. Might take advantage of ya’, hun,” I said trying not to laugh. “Your ol’ man let you pick up strangers this late at night?” he asked. I could sense he was becoming inquisitive. He was searching for any possible signs of this being a setup.

I rolled down the window all the way while hollering with laughter. “Who said we're strangers?” I asked him. His face displayed annoyance and relief. I saw his shoulders drop and his stance loosen. He approached the car fully leaning into the window. “Real funny,” he said smirking. “You looked scared for a second. I'm sorry. I realized it was you as I was coming up,” I replied with a smile.

“What you doin’ out so late, Mama?” he asked tilting his head. I scoffed and waited. He looked at me with a cold stare. He was waiting for an answer. I shrugged my shoulders casually. “Party with some friends,” I said hoping that he would stop staring at me so intensely. “Party, huh? I thought you didn't like parties,” he muttered under his breath. “I heard you, asshole. Yeah, a party. That's what I said, ain't it?” I said gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Watch that mouth,” he grunted lowly. His voice vibrated across the small space of the car. “Or what?” I asked looking over at him.

He stood up and pushed away from the car. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his body weight to one side. “I would say I'd put somethin’ in it, but me and you both know you'd like that, ‘Vana. Wouldn't you?” he shot back.

Touché, Terry. Touché.

“Coming or not?” I asked and gestured towards the passenger seat. He shook his head yes and walked towards the driver's side of his truck. He opened the door and grabbed his keys and a backpack. He walked back to my car to get into the passenger side. He opened the backseat first to place his backpack in. I could see the confidence in his step.

My eyes started to wander a bit. He was dressed in a gray T-shirt and dark-wash blue jeans. Slightly wet from sweat, his shirt clung to the muscles underneath. Every detail is etched into my memory. The deep cut of his abs. The veins in his biceps that popped out when he made even the slightest movements. The slight jiggle in his pecs.

Not this again. Get it together, Havana.

I turned to look away as he entered the car. Closing the door, he sank into the seat and sighed. “I’ve been out there for a while. Was about to walk back towards Miller to get closer to my place,” he said. I could feel his eyes on me. “Where were you going?” I asked eyes locked forward. “Randall's,” he said leaning over so that his arm was overtaking the center console. “Really?!” I asked loudly. “You'll live. Where you want me to put my hands? In my lap?” he asked his voice surging through the small space. “Or would you rather I put them in yours?” he chuckled. “Whatever!” I said pushing his chest and rolling my eyes. I put the car into gear and began to drive.

“Do you mind if I stop at Dixie? I needed to pick up some stuff for tomorrow,” I asked looking at him. “Nah. I mean it is where we first met,” he said smiling back at me. I rolled my eyes and continued to drive.

*15 minutes later

We walked through the store side-by-side. He was right on my ass. This man had no regard for personal space. “Do you have to be so close?” I asked pushing him away. “Oh, now you got a problem with it?!” he laughed throwing his head back. “Fuck you, Terry,” I said in a whisper low enough for only him to hear. “You sure you want that? You sure you can take it this time?” he questioned while getting closer to me. “You got jokes, huh? Remember this, sir. You may beat me when I'm on my back, but I can make you cry when I'm on my knees,” I said turning away from him. I heard him grunt and scoff. I peeked over my shoulder to see him smiling at me.

He walked away in the opposite direction. That was fine with me. I needed a small breather. Everything about Terry had me on edge, and the flashbacks from that night weren't helping.

I walked to the rear of the store where the dairy and produce were. I walked towards the coolers that contained the eggs. I picked up an 18-count for now and checked the crate for broken eggs. Finding none, I placed the eggs securely under my arm. I moved to the fridges right beside them to look for almond milk— unsweetened and vanilla. They were out. I moved to the next fridge and spotted regular unsweetened almond milk. Fine, that would have to do.

I opened the door to the fridge. A cold, crisp air whipped across my face. The milk rested on the bottom shelf. I leaned over to get it. As soon as I reached for the milk, I felt hands on my hips. “Hands off, Terry,” I said through gritted teeth. “Who's Terry?” asked a familiar voice. “Xavier!” I yelled almost dropping the eggs.

I whipped around and removed his hands from my hips. “Here we are again. You remember what you said? I think you owe me somethin’,” he said moving closer to me. “That was before I knew you lied to me,” I said pushing him back gently. I wanted to be assertive but not piss him off. As he got closer again, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. It was much stronger than it was before.

“The fuck did Monnie stupid ass tell you?” he yelled smacking his lips. “Look. She didn't say anything, love. Just…,” I said trying to push him away from me. His hands came up to my hips again. He gripped the tighter than the first time. “Hey, let me go!” I yelled. “Oh, come on. You one teasin’ ass bitch,” he yelled again slapping the eggs from under my arms. They hit the ground with a thud. The crate cracked open and egg yolks shot up all over the bottom of my skirt and all over my feet.

I tried to move again and sidestep away from his grasp but to no avail. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me back towards him. My body collided with his. He grabbed my arms and slammed me up against the cold glass of the fridge. My body bounced off from the impact.

His hand reached up as if he were going to hit me. I flinched in fear and closed my eyes. It's as if I stopped breathing while waiting for the hit to land. It never did. I opened my eyes to see Terry grabbing Xavier by his collar. They were close in height but Xavier appeared slightly bigger.

Terry pushed Xavier away from me. Terry threw the first punch immediately after. His hand collided precisely with Xavier's jaw. X’s head snapped sideways and his body flew backward. Terry watched him as he stumbled. “Don't you ever touch her again!” Terry growled closing in on Xavier as if he was going to hit him again. Xavier cowered and retreated without a word.

Terry turns back to look at me. His scowl sent shivers down my spine. “I didn't…,” I said struggling to breathe. “Hey, you okay? Mama, look at me!” Terry said grabbing the sides of my face. He angled my head so that I was looking up at him. I was trying not to cry, but I couldn't hold back the tears. “I'm sorry I froze,” I said gasping for air. “Ay, c’mere. Don't do that? Havana, breathe!” he said pulling me into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me hugging me tightly. I wasn't aware of anything around me at the moment.

My thoughts were all over the place. My mind was racing, and I couldn't form a complete thought. “Let’s go,” Terry said holding my hand. He placed the other on my lower back and guided me out of the store. “Keys,” he said into my ear while leaning over me from behind. “Huh?” I said being pulled from my daze. “I need your keys, baby girl,” he said placing his hands on my shoulder.

I reached into my purse and handed Terry my keys. “I know it's late, but I don't want you driving home like this. Do you feel comfortable going with me until you feel better?” Terry said walking around me so that he was now looking down at me. He placed his hands gently on the side of my face again. “’Vana, baby. Listen. You gotta answer me, mama. I need somethin' here,” he asked stroking my cheeks. I nodded as I began to cry again.

He placed his hand on my lower back and guided me to the passenger side door. He opened the door for me to get in. I slid past Terry and sat down in the seat.

The memories I had tried to forget came flooding back — my ex. I spaced out for a second. Terry opened the door and climbed in. He adjusted the seat to fit more comfortably to his height. He leaned over one final time and kissed my forehead. “Just promise me that you're okay?” he asked softly. “Yeah, I'm… I'm okay,” I said sniffling.

*20 minutes later

I stood in Terry's bathroom waiting for the shower to warm up. I was leaned back against the sink while fighting to remain consciously present. I hated it when things triggered me and brought me back to that place. I had worked so hard to never deal with this again. All those years of therapy, and for what? How could what this man did still take such a toll on me? Tonight, I felt like I regressed tremendously.

I stood up and walked to the glass shower door. I slid it open and reached in to feel the water. It was more than ready. I just wanted to get in and wash away all of tonight—all of the egg yolks, all of the fear, all of the anxiety, all of it.

Taglist (asked and assumed):

@avoidthings @brattyfics @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @miyuhpapayuh

@megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites

@jimmybutlrr @lovey-3 @curvyambitions

@deja-r @hoouno06 @insidefeelingofanadult @slutsareteacherstoo

@ariiijestertheklown @armandosbabymama @gg-trini @skyesthebomb

@blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere

@iburias @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1

@geee3bayyybeee3 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho

@pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder

@ineedmyaccountback @rebelrel0987 @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @nayaesworld

@blyffe @helloncrocs @amyhennessyhouse @beenathembo @thiccc-c @babybratzmaraj

@qtmkenedy03 @pinkpantheris @skyesthebomb @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi

*If you want to be added or removed, let me know by commenting.

[luvleyaru]

"One way or another my next post will be a success story."

I've decided it. My next post WILL be a success story (entering the void) AND it will happen before August. Y'all better watch out. So basically I'm making a routine/challenge for myself which I'll follow religiously. I'm excited I've been procrastinating too much yk? So yeah. Enough is enough. I'm LOCKING IN FR.

As for the method I'll use... I'm going for Lucid dreaming or sleep paralysis. And yeah I'll also affirm and persist. I'll also listen to subs, and do meditation daily.

I'll be deleting Tumblr today and I'll come back with a success story, dw I'll tell y'all exactly what I did.

Edit: 18 July 2024, so I decided I was gonna enter the void today and OH MY GOD- I was literally THIS 🤏 close to entering it. I was listening to this. And I started counting from 1 to 200 and started affirming I am and I am pure consciousness etc, AND when I tell u I started seeing flashes of light and EVERYTHING STARTED SPINNING!?? But yeah idk why I snapped out of that (my whole body was also completely numb) (yeah I haven't deleted Tumblr yet and nor have I made the routine, but oh well- I'm gonna enter anyways) (I think imma update about my journey here)

[harrystylesfan2686]

Pieces Part 5

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Az finally gets his chance but not without warnings.

A/N: first of, I wanna say thank you to everyone who supported when things went down with that anon. I love you all so much and I'm so happy you guys are with me. I admit I was a 🤏tad demotivated to write this part but when I reread all your comments and reminded myself how much you guys love this story, I put on my thinking hat and got to work again. I hope you guys like this part!! And plzzzz don't put hate comments on someone's account, for you it just takes like a minute to type and send but for that person it will be stuck on their mind for a long time.

Pieces Masterlist

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Standing in front of your mate's room should be happy and exciting, not anxious and scary.

I finally built up enough courage to come to River House and meet Azriel. See how he's doing and figure out if he deserves another chance. When I told my friends about this, they told me I should do this only if I feel ready to do so, not because I'm felling sympathetic over Azriel.

They're right. And I'm doing this because I'm ready.

I remind myself that when I raise my hand and knock on the door. Cassian told me which room he was staying in, he didn't need to though, I could guess which room it was judging from the fact that it's in the end of the hallway and is covered in darkness when it's still day outside.

Maybe I should've given him a warning before coming and burging in so suddenly... Oh well.

I knock again when the door doesn't open and wait for another five minutes. I frown and step closer to that door. "Azriel? It's me." I hesitantly speak and go to knock again but the door abrutly opens and I flinch back.

There he stands.

The most beautiful male I've ever seen. With bright hazel and wide wings on his back. He's shirtless, standing just in his pants.

Breathing heavy he takes me in, observing me just as I do him. I see exactly what Mor was talking about. His face looks sucked in and body more lean, covered in shadows just as I thought.

But he's still the most amazing male I've ever seen.

I smile softly. "May I come in?"

His eyes widen as though he doesn't believe what I'm saying. I don't too.

I chuckle. "I just wish to talk."

"I-uh. Yes. Of course." He clears his throat and opens the door wider for me come in. He hurriedly tries to fix the room a little, picking up cloths or dishes that were on the floor and quicky takes out a shirt to wear it while I close the door behind us. I stand in the middle of the room and he comes in front of me when he deems himself more presentable.

The room seems a little brighter. He clears his throat again while we stand in front of each other. The awkwardness is clear to the both of us as we wait for the other to speak. He decides to go first.

"You look beautiful." He speaks softly and my heart instanty melts. I mumble a small thanks and stand a little straighter, ready to say what I came here to say. I look into his eyes with a firm expression.

"I've been thinking. This month has been, well, different to say the least. It's taught me that if I have to, I can perfectly live happily with myself. I don't need you to go on with my life." His face falls but he nods. "But I want you." His eyes snap to mine.

"I won't lie. I love you, Azriel. But I will not take you back unless you make it up to me. You broke my heart. You broke my trust. And now, as foolish as I am," I shake my head."I'm giving you another chance. One Last Chance. If you mess up again, that will be it. I will leave and I will never come back. Doesn't matter how much our hearts and sauls ach. Understand?" He nods.

"Words, Azriel."

"Yes! Yes. Of course. I promise you I will never do anything like this again." He looks at me with hopeful eyes.

"Alright. Now rules, first you don't get me back. You have to win me back. Court me, properly. And I will think about it evertime you do something meaningful." He spills out an of course.

"Second, no talking to Elain. I mean, you can talk but you have to make time for me too." I frown.

"You don't have to worry about that. I've already pushed Elain out of my life. The second I came here and she asked of me, I firmly told her that I will never speak to her again. She cried but I don't care. I kicked her out of this room and slamed the door at her face. You're more important." He breaths.

"Third, final rule, this is not a one week thing Azriel. You have to understand that you will have to make up for a long time. I had suffered for an entire year, you have a year to make up to."

"I promise you, my love. I will make up to you. I will win your back. And this time, I won't let you go."

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Tag list: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @going-through-shit @wallacewillow0773638 @kalulakunundrum @cat-or-kitten @pricklepearbloom @bxm-1012 @peachcontour-blog @fxckmiup @ohthemisssery @crazylokonugget @anuttellaa

[tanblaque]

Just a random stab in the dark but earlier you answered someone's question about if batters monster form will show up in off valley and I'd like to guess your gonna pull a fruits basket or pretty damn close to that situation?

Don't mean to guess your entire plot but I'm assuming because of batters rash emotions he's 🤏 about that close to snapping and if we (the player) decide to build a relationship with him then he eventually does transforming and probably destroying things in the process of getting away. The people who are most likely to chase after him are Zacharie, sugar, and the player. I can also imagine they will be getting hurt in the process I can see it right now very emotional scene somewhere in the middle but I've been considering drawing it myself. Id love your opinion lol

I like your take, and honestly that route sounds interesting. I'd give it a go and omg I'd love the fanart.

Can I have the most gut wrenching emotional situation in a wholesome game? Oh yes. Why not.

[gaminggirlgeek]

Want and Desire is One and the Same: Part 1

Being a secretary to Dr. Sabine Callas wasn't that bad given the pay and the (albeit, distracting) company, but pulling an all-nighter with the American Chemist had led her to stare and think about you differently in every way possible.

Slow Burn fic that I made at 3am because I think I've read every Viper x reader here on tumblr 😭

"Pulling an all-nighter today, Doc?" You smile as you look up from your desk to see Sabine going through a pile of documents with furrowed brows. She simple gave you an irritated "Mhm" before pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Want some coffee?"

"No." Sighing, you stand and walk towards the kitchen area and reach for the cupboard to get some coffee beans and two mugs for the both of you. Tonight was just one of those nights where Sabine was increasingly irritated and she'd end up killing herself without at least a sip of caffeine.

However, little did you know that the papers were not the only things plaguing her mind at the moment. From her desk, Sabine took in the shape of your body as your pencil skirt hugged your waist and how your white satin blouse shone in the dim light of the room. You looked like fruit just ripe for the taking.

Professionalism looks incredibly nice on Sabine, but she couldn't help but thirst for you. She loathed mornings but ended up loving them because you'd be the first thing she sees. She'd notice how you tie your hair up when you're stressed; the lip products you reapply in the afternoon that would make your lips look oh, so, kissable and even your perfume that made you smell so delectable. She'd even notice how the other agents looked at you. You were a pretty little thing, a breath of fresh air from the hustle and bustle of the Valorant Protocol and the peculiarities inside it. It was natural for the other agents to be drawn to you. She did not just thirst for you, she desired you with all her heart. The only thing stopping her was the thought of you saying 'no'.

"Want some milk with your coffee?" You said with a cheerful tone in your voice. Sabine snapped out of her daze and went back to reading the reports in her hands.

"Black coffee, please." You smiled and proceeded to brew her cup.

Sabine was this (🤏) close to grabbing you and holding you against the kitchen counter. Moments like these where the two of you are alone were ones she dreaded the most because of how vulnerable you were.

'This is not the time.' Viper reminded herself mentally. After preparing your beverage you placed your cup on your desk first before heading towards Sabine, cup and saucer in hand. Sabine watched as you placed her cup on her desk. You leaned towards her and she could almost smell your perfume and she eventually turned away with the papers in her hand with a sigh.

That worried you as she was particularly more irritable than normal. You decided to engage in some small talk.

"Hey, Doc? Placing all your attention on those reports isn't gonna make you any more annoyed than you already are, you know." Viper turned towards you and narrowed her eyes.

"You talking to me while I'm doing so isn't helping." You smiled and giggled silently. These conversations made your work more enjoyable.

"Please, just a sip of your coffee. It'll help." Viper simply clicked her tongue.

With a sigh, you return to typing into your laptop.

"You have got to take it easy because doing this at midnight with no sleep during the day is going to kill you. Like, get a distraction or something." Viper looked up from her papers and her eyes widened a bit. She then placed the papers on the table and leaned back on her chair, resting her head on her hand and staring at you. You noticed and looked up too, heart beating fast as you observed her gaze to be more, intense, than usual.

"And what might you suggest be my distraction for moments like these?" You gulped, and cleared your throat. Joking wouldn't be so bad at this time, right?

"How about me? Talk to me or something!" Viper smiled and stood up from her chair. She was towards you and stopped behind you; placing her hands on your shoulders.

"I know something more interesting and fun than just talking," She then leans towards your ear, and you could feel her breath against your ear. "..but I bet you wouldn't be able to handle it, anyway." Your eyes widen.

"L-like what?"

"Take a guess." Vipers' grip on your shoulders tighten slightly before slowly sliding her hands down your arms. You tremble from the contact before inhaling sharply.

"...I'm talking about reading the reports with me, of course." She turns your wheelchair for you to face her, and she greets you with the hottest grin you've ever seen.

"Unless you thought about something else." Viper says with a low tone.

"You sound like you're insinuating something, Dr. Callas." You fold your arms and look at her with a determined look.

"Am I? You made the suggestion." Viper walked away and sat back down on her chair, eyeing the documents before scanning them once again.

Before you knew it, your cheeks turned red and you shifted in your seat.

'That was...something.' You smiled and returned to typing into your laptop.

[cerosin-bis]

Hi there! I stumbled upon your blog because of Valiants an now I'm hooked on this pairing! In your recent asks, you said that you weren't comfortable with MCD, so I don't know if my question would bother you at all but I'm gonna ask and feel free to ingore if it makes you uncomfy.

But anyways, I was wondering how Nikto might react if Krueger was grievously injured in the field? Would Nikto drop everything and carve a path to him? Or would he prioritize the mission and leave Krueger to potentially bleed out? With Krueger being Nikto's "person" how would Nikto react should he nearly lose Krueger.

Hi! I'm glad you've been enjoying the pairing! and if I'm not mistaken, thank you for the kudos on my fics ☺️ I appreciate it and I'm happy you liked them!

Nikto is cold-blooded for the most part, his mw19 bio quotes "methodical, calculated" and I really do think he is, even if he can display "acute" symptoms and/or violent outbursts. In the case of a teammate he cares about getting injured, especially Krueger (or rodion.), he will still be 'professional' about it and not go completely apeshit off the bat because he is a very controlled man. But picture it if as if he had two locks on him. A situation like this would make the first lock break and the second crack like. badly. that's the only mental image I can come up with. He'd be 🤏 this close to snapping

[solemncitrus]

you alright?

had an argument with my mom, the past few days we actually talked to each other then last night she snapped at me for asking a lot of questions abt psychiatry and differences abt medical experts (that's how i try to communicate since i can't normally and i wanted to talk to her more tbh), this night i was having thoughts of starving myself for days until she called me into her room and asked me if i ate yet when she was trying to grab more medicine for me (i have a wild cough rn) and things escalated and she forced me to sit down on her bed and smacked me near my eye and told me about all this shit about love and caring and stuff and shoved her hand in front of my face, doing the 🤏 gesture and kept repeating how close she is to not caring abt me and how i'm not her only child (which i already knew since she favors my older siblings more) and like in the past she once said "you make me want to kill myself" and like honestly it just rlly sucks. Ig, well, i had it coming because i tend to do shit to see if they actually care and not quit halfway (which she usually does) so ig this was just a classic case of "fuck around and find out"

[xuune]

dropping this here because I kinda wish I'll snap out anytime soon from listening to the playlist you made for your last art, but here I am, booming 8:00, get me some, wyd, wounds will h.eal, and enclosed in my earphones at midnight. i think your music taste is fire, i'll give you that. mygods (ง •_•)ง

anw, I wanted to ask on how you decide and plan expressions/interactions for the characters when you draw your works? I always find your works to be so expressive. thanks in advance if you ever see this :OOO

p.s. I LOVE YOUR OCs, i think i'm in love with rael i genuinely wish they'll give me a headlock or smthn and i'll be happy p.p.s. i would marry your art if I could (i'm this fkn close 🤏 pls dont sue me)

(sorry for taking so long to reply, you'll know why once you read the rest of this lol)

im so glad that you had those as your faves bc those are some of mine too :D i've been seeing a few ppl rly enjoy 8:00, and if it wasn't for my friend recommending me that song, we wouldnt be here, and those drawings wouldnt have existed either, let alone the animatic i did

thank you for thirsting over my ocs, you don't know how much of a compliment that is whenever i see ppl react that way to them LOL. thats how i know i peaked with their design 😎 stay tuned for some other oc art, cuz im currently working on a piece for my friend's ocs. his ocs exist in the same universe as mine :)

i'll answer your question about planning expressions and interactions below, bc i have a lot to say about that:

when planning for expressions and interactions, i'm usually trying to answer a couple of these things:

what moment do i want to highlight

why is this moment significant

how do these characters feel in the moment, how to they react to each other, what's their motivations

what body language best answers the question above ^

basically, i'm asking myself "what's the scene?" -> "what do the characters feel in that moment?" -> "how do they act this out to convey that?" (that's how i was taught to read scripts for plays. you must understand character motivations before you figure out how to act their feelings out)

it's very important to have a good balance of body language and dialogue to convey the mood if/when appropriate, since sometimes strictly relying on dialogue to sell the moment w/o body lang or vice versa can tank the execution

i assume that you're more interested in how i planned the interactions for them sharing music? lmk if there's like specific ones, bc i can explain more for whatever else it may be

anyways, i start off with scripts of some kind. my scripts can be very barebones that just note a specific scene (i.e. "working at desk, listen to music together before class starts"), or that i build a moment based on a piece of dialogue (i.e. "better not queue anything lame"). here's the notes i made when i made the 8:00 animatic, since thats big on body language

i wanted to get down my main ideas first, which was figuring out the the lyrics i wanted to use paired with dialogue to match. i dont show my thinking much on some of my notes, but what i was getting at this:

story moment: dk connecting the context of the song to his intimate moment with bkg

key moments: waking up, playing with hands, eye contact w/ bkg

i didn't expand on the ideas for how those moments would look until i actually started thumbnailing for the animatic, which i showed briefly here. here's what i kept in mind for their expressions/interactions:

dk shies away from directly confronting bkg outwardly expressing his feelings for him via the song. he avoids it and changes the topic verbally to make the conversation lighthearted -> "what expresses avoidance?"

bkg is direct about his feelings, his actions and expressions must convey a direct confrontation, an attempt to make dk acknowledge how he feels about him thru the song and potentially get a response from him -> "what expresses straightforwardness?"

here's what i decided would visually answer those questions

the implications of character's expressions also factors in the circumstances of their situation. without the context, the execution tends to fall flat. if you didn't know that they were listening to a song that's all about romantic pining, then you probably would've been questioning why the fuck are they just staring at each other, or assumed that one is shy of the physical interaction when that's not the point; its the dawned realization and the acknowledgement of the other's feelings.

my other drawings for that thread followed the same kind of planning tbh, lol. all those drawings had the lyrics set the stage for how the characters are feeling, and i'd have to figure out what about their facial expressions and body language best matches the context of the situation. here's this brief example:

but yeah, that's generally how i plan for expressions/interactions. sometimes i just get a rush of interaction ideas that is centered on one specific question i want to explore, like:

what do their mundane parts of life look like?

how do they physically react to realizing their feelings for the other?

how is someone anxious about the other person's perception of them in the comic i'm drawing?

and then build off from there. hope that helped :D

[ashcadence]

I'm done with this insomnia. I am running on a whole hour and a half of sleep today and I am this 🤏 close to snapping at customers

[lowlywriter]

I hope it’s not too annoying that I basically come here every time “Lost in Paradise” gets updated but like….. how can I nottttt? (*'▽'*)

I haven’t fully finished reading the latest chapter (honestly I wanna reread it once I have more time) but aghhhh… this is probably the second only time travel fanfic I’ve read that has handled the whole Geto killing a village thing—and ngl I like yours more simply because Satosugu stick together, I don’t think my heart could have handled Geto snapping or crumbling and defecting still (he was thissss 🤏 close and that’s so scary in its own way)

Geto’s emotions mwah. It’s always a treat to get his POV once in a while; he’s a sweet, patient dude but there’s… definitely potential in him to do some awful things if just pushed the wrong way for too long. ヽ(￣д￣;)ノ= = =

Also! I know people don’t typically like ocs in fanfics, but I already love Suguru’s mom. Like her smacking him over the head with a magazine made me almost laugh in class. I think ocs can be a fun addition to the story and honestly necessary sometimes—in this case with building that emotional case and contrast from past!Suguru and the future!Suguru.

Anywayyy sorry for the rambling but honestly your writing is like a weekly savior for me at this point XD hope you have a great day!!

Hello again!

The asks aren't annoying at all, don't worry about it! I love that you're so enthusiastic about the fic! It makes me happy to know you (and so many others) enjoy it as much as I do!

I absolutely love student Geto as a character (not much of a fan of cult leader Geto, or Kenny Geto though). He's such a joy to work with! You can just tell he's such a sweetheart in the beginning of the second season by how is acts with Gojo himself and the girls in those flashbacks. Poor guy is just so lost after everything bad that happened and that village is his last straw. I mean, I'd be pretty pissed seeing kids treated like that too! I honestly think if he had of called Satoru, he would've felt exactly like him. Depressed Geto, isolated makes me so sad :(

Geto's mom was so much fun to flesh out! I love her.

I just wanted him to come from a nice home where he's loved so the whole world doesn't feel like it's against him. I know the show (and maybe the manga?) say he deliberately went to and killed his parents, which doesn't exactly paint a happy, healthy relationship, but it's my world and he gets to be happy! He deserves it!

I'm of the same opinion with ocs! I don't mind them at all, unless they turn into a major character and start stealing the show from the main cast (unless specifically tagged) that I'm looking for!

To each their own, in the end.

Fanfiction is a truly self-indulgent hobby, so I understand people wanting to add their creations into the world! I really only make small ocs to fill the world (and families)! And if something's going to be a little oc heavy, I like to separate it from the main stuff just so everyone can read what they're looking for!

I'm so honored that people are waiting for LiP to update! It's so motivating! Hopefully I can keep up with it! :D Thanks for the ask, and for reading the fic!