#*tiktok song* oh no. oh no. oh no no no no no

[kunareads]

how you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

you and satoru fulfill the prophecy (he picks you up, pulls them down, turns you around).

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satoru "filthy mouth" gojo!!! i had to stop writing this multiple times because of what he does to me. PART 3 VALENTINE'S DAY (comment for taglist)

content: fluff and SMUT! even more tension, you and satoru are once again the subjects of internet speculation, making out, 69, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, pronebone, cowgirl, he's very much in control here

18+ please i block children <3

+++

the internet does what it does best: fill in the blanks.

neither of you say anything. no statements, no denials, no acknowledgments. but speculation spreads like wildfire.

it started small. the blurry afterparty photos, the red carpet chemistry dissection, the think pieces about hollywood's most unexpected flirtation. the usual.

then you post an instagram story.

nothing special. just a close-up of a wine glass, city lights blurred in the background. no context, no caption. but the fans? they think they know.

twitter erupts.

@/satorumess: not to be crazy but i mapped out their locations based on timestamps and—

@/fulltimeshipper: this is worse than when the CIA redacted half that UFO document

@/ynupdates: y/n posting a cryptic story the same night satoru is spotted downtown… oh we are in the trenches forreal

then, satoru likes a tiktok.

a slow-motion edit of you in your red carpet and afterparty looks, set to some dramatic song, captioned this woman is dangerous, your honor.

he doesn't comment, doesn't follow the account. just leaves one single like. and the internet implodes.

@/fandomedits: nah this isn't pr this is a man down BAD

@/popcultupdates: GOJO SATORU LIKING THIRST EDITS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT WE HAVE LOST HIM COMPLETELY

@/ynstan: this man saw a slo-mo thirst edit and said "yeah let me cosign that"

but it gets worse.

an old clip resurfaces. a red carpet from last year. you and satoru, near each other but never interacting. a moment that meant nothing—until now.

fans slow it down, zoom in, analyze every tiny detail:

satoru steps onto the carpet, and your eyes flick toward him, barely noticeable.

he glances in your direction.

there's a beat where he exhales, seems to collect himself—something no one caught before.

and suddenly, it's evidence.

@/fathergojo: why do their interactions feel like deleted scenes from a romcom

@/yninvestigator: guys. GUYS. what do you MEAN she looked at him FIRST. what do you MEAN HE TOOK A BREATH AND LOOKED AWAY.

@/stanwars: suddenly i believe in fate. suddenly i understand greek tragedies.

apparently, none of this is new.

you and satoru are just catching up.

+++

+++

satoru isn't good at waiting.

patience isn't exactly his strong suit, but when the reward is this good? he doesn't mind.

you walk in like the last week never happened. like the chaos never even registered.

the rooftop lighting catches the silk of your dress, the shine of your jewelry, the sheen of your lips. it makes you look untouchable.

attention follows you effortlessly. heads turn, backs straighten. someone says something, you smile—polite, charming, distant. you're impossible not to watch.

and satoru watches.

he's become acquainted with the effect you have, but it hits harder tonight than it did a week ago.

because now he knows how you taste.

the glass in his hand is cool, condensation falling between his fingers. he takes a sip, tracking you, cataloging details no one else would catch.

the way your shoulders shift, subtle, as you get closer.

the flick of your gaze toward him before you fully reach him.

you stop beside him, close enough for the scent of your perfume to settle between you.

a pause before you meet his eyes.

"so… how's your week been?" you ask, tone light, a smile gracing your features.

satoru exhales a laugh, tipping his glass like a toast. "surprisingly quiet. you?"

as you talk, your fingers trace the rim of your glass. he watches. you let him.

he leans in when he speaks. you don't move away.

he notices the way the waiter lingers, the way you dismiss it with a polite, distant smile.

you notice the way his expression shifts at that, just slightly. neither of you acknowledge it.

"you're kind of a nightmare," you tease.

satoru grins, unbothered. "funny. some people call me a dream."

you laugh and roll your eyes at him. he takes his time with his next sip, letting the tension settle. you're watching him watch you.

it would be easy to let you play this game, to see how long you can act like you're not as impatient as he is. but he leans in, voice quiet, just for you.

"you gonna make me wait?" low, taunting.

you could, but you don't. instead, you lean in too, meeting him halfway. you set your glass down carefully. he mirrors you.

someone—a bartender, another guest—tries to pull you into conversation, but you don't reply.

you lean into him, your voice calm but sure.

"let's go."

+++

streetlights skim over sleek black paint as the car pulls up, satoru swinging the door open. you barely take a step before his hand finds the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to guide you.

he grins lazily. "last chance."

you roll your eyes as you step in. "so dramatic."

he closes the door after you and circles the car, the driver pulling off.

the backseat feels too small.

you cross your legs. his knee brushes against yours, and he doesn't move away. his hand rests on his thigh, relaxed, too close to yours. deliberate.

you pretend not to notice, but he knows better.

the silence is louder than words. the city blurs past the tinted windows, neon bleeding into the dark. the hum of the engine, the distant murmur of traffic, the faint pulse of something unsaid.

satoru exhales slowly, gliding his tongue over his teeth, thinking. he pushes a button, the partition rising.

you're both quiet, but it's a silent signal: stop pretending.

the second it clicks into place, he moves. or maybe you do. it doesn't matter. he's closer now, facing you, and you're already leaning in.

a beat. a sharp inhale.

his fingers skim your thigh, higher this time.

"i was trying to be good," you say quietly.

his voice drops, tight with restraint, and your breath catches. "don't."

the second the word leaves his lips, you're on him. a hand finds the back of his neck, drawing him in.

the first kiss is slow, but not reluctant. he drags it out because he can. he tilts his head, deepening it. he hums against your lips when you press closer, pleased.

his fingers tease higher. yours twist into his hair, nails scraping just enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

the car rolls to a stop.

neither of you move. not right away.

satoru's grip tightens, like he's considering pulling you onto his lap. like he could keep you here a little longer, let the city blur beyond the tinted glass while he takes his time.

instead, he drags his lips down your jaw, then lower. he breathes you in before murmuring, "upstairs."

+++

the door clicks shut, sealing you in. no music, no distant hum of the city, just quiet, dense and charged.

neither of you break the silence.

satoru steps in first. the air seems to crackle around him here the same way it does everywhere else.

you hold his stare, challenging. he waits.

a test. a game.

then, finally, you reach for him. his grin is lazy, knowing. like he was waiting for you to break first.

this kiss is purposeful. his lips brush yours—once, then again. a silent question, just the slow press of his mouth, the barely-there slide of his hands down your waist.

your fingers slip under his shirt, nails grazing skin, just enough to pull a slow, amused breath from him.

his hands find your hips, insistent, pulling you in until there's no space left. the shift makes you gasp into his mouth, and he drinks it in, looking smug, like he expected it.

like he's been waiting for this all week.

his grip tenses, like he's about to pull you closer—but then he's gone. his heat vanishes, his lips just a ghost of pressure before they disappear completely.

he barely moves when you chase him a bit, just tilts his chin, smiling. like he knew you wouldn't let him go. like he was counting on it.

you inhale, frustration sparking low in your chest, and you move before you think. your hands find his shirt, tugging him back in—but before you can, his fingers close around your wrists, catching you with ease.

his grin is knowing, his grip firm but teasing. he tilts his head, amusement spreading across his face.

"easy, princess," he murmurs, voice low, eyes flicking to your lips. "what's the rush?"

you arch a brow, fingers flexing in his grasp. "you did haul me out of the car."

his grin widens. "not like you put up a fight."

you push.

you press into him, backing him towards the wall. he lets you. lets you kiss him deeper, hands still wrapped around your wrists but relaxing, giving you room to move.

for a second, you think you've won.

then the world tilts and your back meets the wall with a gentle thud, your head tipping back slightly as he crowds you.

he smiles at you, eyes sparkling, enjoying himself too much. his hands settle at your waist, keeping you where he wants you.

you should be annoyed. instead, you match him and smirk right back.

you like the way he handles you.

+++

his touch is maddening.

his fingertips skate over your ribs, your stomach, but never where you need them. it's intentional and exploratory, like he has all the time in the world.

and he does. his apartment is a sanctuary from the mess of the last week. no prying eyes or a disgruntled kento to interrupt here.

you shift, trying to lead him downward, but he only chuckles, barely making a sound.

"you can be patient for me, can't you?" his voice dips lower, "or are you already too far gone?"

he's mocking you, and reflex kicks in—your thighs squeeze together, and you feel the heat creep up your neck when he notices.

his fingers ghost up your inner thighs, teasing warmth into your skin before retreating. every near-touch is calculated, just enough to remind you of how easily he could give you what you want.

he watches as impatience builds in your expression, as your breath stutters when his hands graze your waist again.

your nails press into his shoulders, a silent dare. before he can smirk, before he can gloat, you roll your hips against him, slow, deliberate. the response is immediate.

his breath falters, a groan through gritted teeth. his jaw tightens like he wasn't expecting you to test him. for a split second, he stills entirely.

you smile at him. message received.

"if you wanna ruin me, do it right, satoru." a taunt disguised as a whisper, just enough to chip at his restraint.

his hold turns bruising, like he wants to leave something behind. the teasing tone vanishes, his smirk dissolving into something darker. your breath catches—not in surprise, but excitement as something kindles in your stomach.

because suddenly, it's not a game anymore.

the realization barely registers before he has you pinned, wrists above your head, mouth at your ear.

"hope you know what you're asking for," he murmurs, hips flush against yours. his voice is different now—rough, heat twisting through every syllable. you shudder at the sound, your body responding. he makes good on his words immediately.

his hands find the backs of your thighs—then, suddenly, you're weightless, gasping, clutching at his shoulders. your legs draw around his hips, heat pooling fast.

a startled breath leaves you, but he's already moving, carrying you across the room like you weigh nothing at all.

+++

he drops you onto his bed, grinning at the glare you send him when you bounce.

you don't even get the chance to scold—his hands are already on you, pulling your panties down.

his teeth graze your inner thigh before he bites down, sharp enough to make you whine, hips squirming. he exhales with a smile. "thought so." his tongue follows—slow, indulgent, a promise to ruin you.

you've barely found your breath when he shifts, broad hands pressing into your thighs, spreading you open. his gaze lifts, dark and teasing.

"comfortable?" he asks, lips skimming the inside of your knee.

you roll your eyes, about to retort—but your fingers curl into the sheets instead when his mouth finds your core, hot and devastating.

your hips shift, back arching, and he hums against you, content.

you move the moment he adjusts—quick, decisive, hands pushing into his shoulders. he lets you shift the balance, rolling onto his back, breath catching when he opens his eyes to find you above him.

your fingers work fast, tugging at his belt, yanking it free with a sharp pull. you work on the button, the zipper, pulling the fabric down just enough to free him.

he was so fucking cocky a second ago. now, he's not even breathing right, body taut under your hands. so you stroke once, then twice, then take him into your mouth.

no warning, no reluctance.

his grip tightens on your thigh, breath punching out like you knocked it loose. his head tilts back, jaw tensing, a soft "fuck—just like that, baby" escaping him.

you hum around him, pleased, tongue teasing, and he swears again under his breath. his hands fist into the sheets, trying to ground himself.

but satoru doesn't like being outmatched.

his fingers skate up your thigh, squeezing. and then his mouth is on you, tongue dragging through your folds, slow and deep.

you gasp against him, body tensing, and he grins.

"that's better," he mutters against you, lips brushing sensitive skin before his tongue circles once, twice.

the sound you make is muffled around him, and he groans in response, the vibration rolling through you both.

you try to keep a rhythm, fingers curling at the base as you sink down, but every time his tongue moves just right, every time he sucks at your clit, you falter.

he notices, and he loves it.

his hands tighten on your hips, keeping you still as he buries his face deeper, determined, fucking into you with his tongue, sending you to the edge without mercy.

you try to keep going, try to keep your lips wrapped around him, but every nerve in your body is on fire, pressure winding as you moan around him.

he grins against you. "that's it, princess. lemme hear it."

his fingers dig into your skin, tightening as he licks into you with purpose, drawing desperate sounds from your throat.

it's too much. you pull your mouth off of him, panting, lips slick and hips twitching against his face as the bliss hits all at once, unraveling you from the inside out.

"satoru, fuck," you gasp, the words nearly unintelligible through your moans. you can't do anything but let it consume you, your body seizing before the release finally drives through you.

you gasp, sharp and unsteady, his name tumbling past your lips again, voice cracking into a whine.

satoru doesn't stop until you're shaking, your legs weak, pleasure rolling over you in dizzying, tormenting waves.

only when your thighs twitch, too sensitive, does he finally pull away. his face is wet, and he's breathless. he presses one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before looking up at you, eyes dark and lazy.

"you're fucking perfect," he murmurs, voice hoarse, before flipping you onto your stomach, pressing you into the mattress.

+++

you're still coming down when he lifts your hips, tucking a pillow underneath them.

his breath is warm against your shoulder, steady and grounding. his lips trail down your spine, flirting, savoring the way you squirm. a hand settles on your hip possessively, making sure you don't slip away.

his other hand trails lower, sliding between your legs, fingers pressing in—gradually, unhurried, teasing the mess he left behind.

"fuck, baby—you're dripping for me." his voice is all rough edges and satisfaction, murmured against your ear. you shiver. his fingers slide through your folds, spreading your slick, teasing the spot he knows will make you gasp.

"been thinking about this all week," he mumbles, kissing the curve of your neck. his fingers dip lower, pushing inside, slow and deep. "bet you have, too."

you whimper, and he smirks against your skin.

"should've had you like this that night. should've fucked you right up against that wall."

his fingers move at an unbearable pace, curling, pressing into the spot that makes your knees weak. your hips jerk, but he holds you still.

"needy, huh?" his breath is burning against your ear, teasing, smug. "tell me how bad you want it, baby."

your fingers clutch the sheets, patience fraying. you should fight him— push back, make him work for it—but you're too far gone for games.

"satoru—"

his fingers stall. "mm, not good enough."

"want you," you gasp, growing desperate. "need you inside me."

he groans like you just hit him where it hurts. he pulls his hand away, leaving you empty for barely a second before the thick of him replaces them.

he slips the tip through your folds, slick and teasing, but doesn't push in. "this what you wanted?" he asks, rougher now.

"yes."

"say it again."

your breath stutters, but you give him what he wants. "yes. please," you gasp.

his hands flex against your hips, keeping you still as he pushes forward, stretching you open with an unrelenting drag that knocks the air from your lungs. it's almost too much—almost—but you want all of it. you take all of him.

he moves in slowly, and a shaky gasp escapes as he bottoms out, deep inside you, holding himself there, letting you feel it.

his breath is ragged now, his exhale hot against your skin. "fuck."

his hands slide up your sides, guiding you, holding you where he needs you.

"you feel so fucking good," he breathes, voice dipping into something ruined.

his hips roll, deep and slow, like he wants to feel everything. like he wants to make this last.

you think for a second that you won't survive at this pace.

satoru brings his body lower, pressing his chest flush against your back, all heat and tension, breath ghosting over your shoulder as he sinks in.

his arms slip under yours, palms spreading over your shoulders, drawing you into him. not just pulling you back, but owning the space between you.

hi thrusts are indulgent, stretching, coating himself in you. his breath is uneven, satisfaction humming in your ear.

you push your hips back into him, matching his rhythm.

satoru exhales a sharp breath, fingers digging in. "you trying to make me lose it?"

you don't answer, just push back harder on instinct.

his response is immediate—a sharp, precise thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, ripping a moan from your throat before you can swallow it down.

"thought so," he murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder.

his pace turns deep and steady—controlled, measured. he brings his face close to yours, wanting to watch you react, to feel you tighten around him with every movement.

but you're impatient. you shift, pressing up onto your elbows, angling your hips just enough to take him deeper.

his pace stutters. he swears under his breath, voice raw, and one arm locks around your waist. he holds you in place as he fucks into you now, hard enough to leave you trembling, helpless against the bed.

his name leaves your lips, breathless and desperate.

"fuck—it's so good," he groans, half-choked, messy. his face buries into your neck, hands gripping like he's holding on for dear life. "let me hear you, baby."

you can barely think, barely breathe. his hand slides between your legs, fingers finding that spot, pressing slow, teasing circles.

"satoru—"

he chuckles, low and smug, but there's an edge to it now, a tension in the way his hips stutter, his movements losing their precision.

and then you tighten around him, body seizing, pleasure cresting all at once—

"fuck," he bites out, breathless, grip tightening like he's trying to hold on.

and then—he pulls out.

a sharp inhale, the loss making you gasp, but before you can even form a thought—

he flips you over.

"not done with you yet," he mutters, voice rough, gaze dark as he hovers over you.

+++

and just like that, everything shifts.

his hands find you the second he pulls out—a sharp, dizzying shift as he flips you over, settling beneath you. his hands slide up your ribs, brush over your breasts, then slide back down.

his fingers splay wide on your hips, steadying you, but it's his gaze that pins you in place. "wanna see you like this," he murmurs, voice low, still rough from before.

your lips part, but the way he looks at you makes it hard to tease. instead, your nails drag down his chest, unhurried, feeling his abs tense beneath your touch.

"yeah?" you breathe.

his fingers flex, tightening just slightly. "yeah, baby. show me how bad you want it."

you wrap your fingers around him, stroking once, slow and teasing, just to watch him squirm.

his jaw clenches, but he doesn't push. he lets you take your time, lets you set the pace, struggling to hold back.

you don't make him wait long.

you line him up and sink down, savoring the stretch—the way he exhales, sharp and shaky, fingers digging in.

"fuck," he breathes, watching you, eyes dark, half-lidded, all heat.

one of your hands finds his shoulders, nails scraping lightly as you start to move. the other moves down to where you're connected, feeling just how far he spreads you open.

at first, it's slow—like you're figuring each other out all over again. a careful roll of your hips, tension simmering, teasing at something deeper.

but it doesn't last.

his grip firms, guiding you down, matching your rhythm. he thrusts up to meet you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs.

"you feel me, princess?" he asks, pulling you down harder, deeper.

you answer him with a desperate little whimper that makes him melt.

both of your movements are messy, desperate—like you both know exactly where this is going and you need to get there.

your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping, tugging just slightly, and he hisses, eyes squeezing shut for a second.

his hands slide up your spine, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing to yours, breathing hard.

"you feel so fucking good," he murmurs, almost a whine. "so wet for me, so fucking perfect."

you can't even speak. your thoughts blur, pleasure winding tight, breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

he shifts beneath you, angling deeper, hitting exactly where you need him. the sudden jolt of pleasure makes your whole body tighten, makes you let out a sound you didn't mean to make—

a loud, broken moan, breathy, helpless.

his head snaps up, eyes wild, something cracking behind them—like he just lost his last thread of control.

"oh," his breath shudders, grip tightening. "oh."

and then he's gone.

he snaps his hips into yours, his hands gripping, guiding, setting a pace that's relentless, that has you gasping, nails biting into his shoulders.

your vision goes hazy, body tightening, winding up unbearably fast. you try to tell him you're close, but all that comes out is a shaky, broken "satoru—"

"oh, fuck—there it is," he breathes, voice dropping, eyes dark and triumphant. "knew you'd sound so fucking sweet falling apart for me."

his hand finds your clit, pressing just right—teeth gritting as he holds on, watching you break first.

and you shatter.

it slams into you, sharp and consuming, a shockwave rolling through your body. your breath stutters, a broken gasp stumbling free as you tighten around him, locking him in.

he feels it—the way you pulse around him, the way you tremble, how your moans dissolve into something helpless. it undoes him. his arm slides your waist, his other hand finding the back of your neck, and he pulls you closer like he needs you.

he curses as you tremble against him, holding you close, burying himself deep in you as he falls apart.

your name leaves his lips like a prayer, breathless, reverent. he groans against your skin as he finally spills into you. pleasure crashes through him, and for a moment, all he can do is feel **the heat of you, the way you throb around him, the way your body takes him like you were made for this.

for a second, you both stay still; the only sound between you is the sharp, uneven puff of breath.

your hands shake against his chest. his fingers are still locked around your waist.

he exhales a wrecked laugh, warm and lazy against your temple.

"so fucking worth the wait," he murmurs, voice low, sated. he kisses all over your face, palm smoothing down your spine. "knew you'd be perfect for me."

+++

the morning light spills through the curtains, golden and soft, warming tangled sheets and bare skin. everything is still. quiet, but not empty. satoru is warm against you, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. at some point in the night, your leg found its way between his, one of his arms draped lazily over your waist.

you shift, stretching slightly, and his fingers flex at your hip, like some part of him refuses to let you go.

he murmurs something unintelligible, voice low and drowsy. then, with a slow, easy smile against your skin, "stay."

you huff a quiet laugh. "clingy."

"mmm," he hums, voice is thick with sleep. "you're warm."

he still hasn't opened his eyes. he just shifts a little, nestling deeper into you. his fingers pressing idly into your hip, like he's memorizing the shape of you beneath them.

you stay like that for a while.

you steal a button-up from his closet when you finally get up, slipping it over your shoulders before following him into the bathroom. he doesn't comment, just flicks his gaze over you, lips twitching, before rummaging through a drawer. a moment later, he presses a spare toothbrush into your palm.

"definitely took you for the clingy type."

he grins, stretching lazily against the counter. "not my fault you're so soft."

you brush your teeth side by side, bleary-eyed in the mirror. he stands just a little too close, bumping into your arm like he can't help himself.

and when you head back to bed, he follows, catching your wrist just before you climb in, guiding you back under the covers with ease.

"wait." his lips brush your shoulder. "just stay there."

"i am staying," you point out, amused.

"good," he hums, pressing one last kiss to your head before disappearing into the kitchen.

satoru returns minutes later, two mugs in hand. he sets yours on the nightstand before wordlessly disappearing back to the kitchen.

you wait until you smell breakfast, then you get up and follow the scent out to his kitchen island.

he doesn't ask if you're hungry. he just plates your food and sets it in front of you without a second thought.

you steal sips from his juice between bites, and he lets you, just watching, amused, eyes flicking toward you over the rim of his glass.

soft touches happen naturally, thoughtlessly.

his palm finds the small of your back when he moves past you, warm and steady.

your fingers brush when you both reach for the same thing.

his knuckles graze your thigh when he leans back against the counter.

none of it feels unfamiliar.

you stay longer than you expected to. he doesn't call you out on it.

the goodbye is unserious, drawn out in a way that makes it obvious neither of you is in a rush.

"try not to miss me too much," you tease, pulling on your shoes with a grin.

he smiles, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "oh, i will."

his tone is playful, but something about the way he says them makes you hesitate, just for a second.

and as you step out, just before it closes behind you, he calls after you.

"i'll be thinking about you, y'know."

tags (ongoing): @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance @satoruxsc

[anotherbrahmsfangirl]

💔: Michael Myers or Art the clown, they're both heartless killers, cannot be reasoned with.

💘: Brahms Heelshire duh.

🎭: I already own Brahms's mask, I made it for my BF's cosplay

🔪: I think Ghostface's knife looks pretty unique

🎧: Dutch Melrose: Runrunrun. I heard it on a Brahms TikTok, and loved the sound of it, now every time I listen to it, it reminds me of him. That and Denise Williams: Let's hear it for the boy. Lol

🎤: Brahms lol

💍: oh I'm traditional, I want Brahms to get down on one knee for me 🥰

🥩: Hewitts hands down. Thomas is a cutie

🩰: Again Brahms, he probably knows how to dance a little. Even before being sentenced to the wall.

🏠: Brahms of course, who wouldn't want to live in a big opulent manor??

💀: oof that's a hard one, most only know how to take a life not save one... maybe Brahms has read a book on first aid???

⚔️: probably Billy Lenz as long as I knew he was there/coming. He's depicted as a skinny looking guy. I bet I could beat his ass. Him or maybe Martin.

☎️: Billy Loomis, then we can at least talk about scary movies.

👻: Thomas hewitt, it'd be funny to see that giant guy stare down the actors with a chain less chainsaw.

👶: omg yes! I can quote poetry, I have a beautiful singing voice, I know a bit of French and Japanese. I'd like to think I'd wow her (and Brahms) by singing a song in french, also, I'm not creeped out by dolls.

👩‍🎤🧑‍🎤:me and Brahms are gonna look fashionable in matching sweater vests and jackets, I'll wear a skirt and thigh highs, he'll be in trousers. Both with loafer shoes, looking like proper brits lol

🏒🔥: Jason, he's the strong silent type, Freddy would get on my nerves.

🧇: Bo, I think he'd make a surprisingly good steak or stew.

🤗: oh god, such a toss up. Brahms I'm sure loves to hug, esp from behind, but just the sheer size of Thomas would be like hugging a bear. I can't choose!

🛁: god, they're all so dirty/sweaty/bloody. I'm gonna go with Thomas, that hot humid texas weather makes you just gross from head to toe.

💭: maybe ask Brahms if he really did kill Emily and the other nannies.

💋: lol self

🐶: maybe like a bear or a bull with Thomas.. nothing else comes to mind.

🎃: if I'm not dressed up, I'm handing out candy, if I am, I'd either be a ghostbuster, or baba yaga (witch)

Slasher Ask Game

(Inspired by this post here! Altered a bit to fit my blog)

💔 The slasher you’d LEAST like to meet IRL.

💘 The slasher you’d MOST like to meet IRL.

🎭 If you could own one slasher mask which would it be?

🔪 If you could own one slasher weapon which would it be?

🎧 A song you associate with a slasher.

🎤 Which slasher has the nicest voice?

💍 Would you rather be proposed to by a slasher or you propose to them?

🥩 The Sawyers/Hewitts invite you for dinner are you taking a bite? Also which family would you rather have dinner with?

🩰 Which slasher would you like to slow dance with & which do think is the best slow dancer?

🏠 If you could live with only one slasher who would it be? How’s the experience?

💀Oh no you’re injured! Which slasher would you like to nurse you back to health?

⚔️ What slasher do you think you could beat in a fight?

☎️ Receive a call from Billy Lenz or Billy Loomis?

👻 If you could go through a haunted house with one slasher who would you want to take?

👶 You’re being interviewed by the Heelshire’s for Greta’s position. Would they hire you?

👩‍🎤🧑‍🎤 You get you wear matching outfits with a slasher of your choice. What are you guys wearing?

🏒🔥 Jason or Freddy?

🧇 It’s dinner time! Which Sinclair brother would you like to cook for you? & how well does it go?

🤗 Which slasher do you think gives the best hugs?

🛁 What slasher do you think needs a bath the most?

💭 You can ask any slasher whatever question you want. Who & what are you going to ask?

💋 Do you prefer to selfship, use OCs with slashers or ship slashers together?

🐶 Are there any animals you associate with slashers?

🎃 It’s Halloween and you bump into Micheal Myers! What are you dressed as?

[whimsicalpolitical]

perchance matty or ross catches you watching edits of them and deals with you accordingly… perchance

18+ mdni, oral (m receiving)

matty has been holed up in his office for the past couple of hours, leaving you to entertain yourself in the cozy mess of his flat. so naturally, you’re curled up on his couch, scrolling through tiktok, mindlessly flipping past videos—until one stops you dead in your tracks.

an edit of him.

it’s one of those ridiculously well-made ones, the kind with slow-motion clips, flashing lights, and a song that makes everything feel ten times more intense than it already is. on stage, cigarette between his fingers, curls messy and damp with sweat, eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

your mouth actually waters.

you let the video loop a couple of times before tapping on the username. whoever runs the account clearly has a talent—and a bit of an obsession—because their entire page is a shrine to him. edits from every era, every tour, interviews you haven’t even seen before.

you get lost in it, thumb tapping on video after video, admiring him like some fan who doesn’t get to wake up next to him in the morning. because objectively, he’s gorgeous. but it’s more than that—he’s yours. and that fact alone makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

so absorbed in your scrolling, you don’t hear him walk in.

"oh, for fuck’s sake," his voice comes from behind you, making you flinch violently.

"jesus christ, matty!" you gasp, clutching your chest.

he’s standing over the back of the couch, arms crossed, a slow, amused smirk creeping across his lips. "are you actually sitting here watching thirst edits of me?"

heat flares across your face. "i mean…" you scramble for an excuse, but really, what’s the point? so instead, you shrug, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you can muster. "what can i say? you’re fucking hot."

his smirk deepens, eyes flicking between you and the phone still open in your hand. then he shakes his head, exhaling a quiet laugh. "unbelievable."

"not my fault people make good edits."

"not your fault you’re drooling over them either, then?"

"never said that."

he rolls his eyes, but there’s a flicker of something behind them—something smug, something pleased. and then he leans down, voice dropping low and warm.

"well," he murmurs, "i’m done with work now, if you’d rather admire the real thing."

your stomach flips.

matty grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, before reaching for your phone and locking it with a tap. then he tosses it onto the couch beside you.

matty walks around the couch slowly, dragging it out, eyes locked onto yours with that signature mix of amusement and something darker. he stops in front of you, arms still crossed, head tilting slightly.

"so," he muses, dragging the word out. "which bit turns you on most then?”

you blink up at him, playing dumb. "which bit of what?"

he lets out a soft scoff, his tongue running over his teeth. "don’t start."

you bite back a smile, pressing your lips together. matty doesn’t move, just watches you, waiting, a smug little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. you can tell he’s enjoying this way too much already.

you exhale through your nose, shifting slightly. "consumption," you admit, finally.

matty raises an eyebrow, pretending to think. "consumption," he echoes, letting the word roll off his tongue. then his smirk widens, and he nods in understanding. "right. me touching my dick, then? should’ve actually thought about that.”

you shrug, feigning nonchalance, but your lip catches between your teeth, giving you away.

he laughs, a real one, his head tilting back for a second before he looks at you again, eyes gleaming. "you’re so fucking easy," he teases, shaking his head.

"yeah, well." you push yourself up off the couch slowly, stepping toward him, closing the space between you until there’s barely an inch left. he doesn’t move back, doesn’t look away—just watches, amused, waiting to see what you’ll do.

you press your hands against his chest, fingers splaying out over the fabric of his shirt, and give him a firm push.

he lets himself fall back onto the couch, spreading his legs lazily, looking up at you with an expression so cocky it makes your stomach twist.

you lean down slightly, your voice dropping as you murmur, "what can i say? i love your dick."

matty exhales through his nose, that damn smirk only growing as he runs a slow hand through his curls.

“show me how much, c’mon. get down.”

without a word, you sink down, knees hitting the warm carpet.

"that’s right," matty hums when your hands find his belt buckle.

you undo his belt and pull it through the loops, letting it fall to the floor with a clink. then your fingers undo his jeans, almost tearing them apart by the zipper with your eagerness to see him.

“seen a few videos of me and you’re already this eager,” he chuckles, “you’re mad.”

“only for you.”

as you pull the denim over his hips, you feel his hand softly rest on the crown of your head. a quick glance up tells you he's watching every single thing you're doing, lapping it up like it's the last thing he'll ever see.

“is that right?” he asks rhetorically. he knows everything you do is for him.

you place a gentle kiss to his thigh and pull the waistband of his underwear down, and his cock springs free.

you hum, “m’ yours.”

your hands wrap around him.. you pump him a few times in your hands and he tips his head back, mouth agape.

“exactly. you’re mine, this filthy mouth is mine.”

you lower your head to lick his tip until you finally take him in your mouth. “so pretty,” you whisper.

matty groans audibly, “just like that, darling, fuck.”

you push down as far as your throat will allow before releasing him with a pop, saliva mixed with matty all over your lips.

"that’s it, love," he's mumbling, eyes still screwed shut, hand still knotting in your hair, “know you can get a bit more of me into your mouth.”

you drag your tongue along the underside of his dick, closing your eyes.

when you take him in down to your throat again, he begins moving his hips; bucking up into your mouth. you steady yourself, hands on his upper thighs, and let him, trying not to lower your hand to your cunt to relieve the ache quickly growing there.

“jesus christ, yeah, like that. s’perfect.”

the sounds he's making are enough to make you cum by themselves. he’s panting, moaning, breathing your name, groaning whenever your cheeks hollow.

"you’re a fucking dream, darling. look at you, so fucking sexy.” you pull him back into your mouth. he tastes like sweat and salt and matty.

when he bumps the back of your throat and you gag a little, you notice matty’s head snap down to check on you. his grip on your hair loosens, and you softly gaze back at him, eyes blown with lust, to let him know you're okay.

“easy there,” he says, “don’t be a greedy girl.”

you drag your lips off of his head, a string of saliva still linking your mouth to his reddened tip. you’re panting now, fully turned on by him.

“you’re so fucking hot,” you say trying not to moan, “want you all the time.”

your palms wrap around his length again, pumping and twisting slowly while your tongue flicks over his head.

matty’s breathing heavily and grinning as he watches you, “i know,” he cooes, “i’ve got you. you have me whenever you want to.”

when you let go of him and dip your head down to take him completely, he lets out a deep groan.

“oh fuck,” he moans out, “keep doin’ that.”

his hand falls to the back of your head and he applies a little pressure, fucking into you again.

“want me in your mouth?” he asks.

you nod repeatedly and beg him with your eyes.

“christ, yeah alright. i- jesus.”

when you begin to feel him jerk, you lean back, hands helping him to his high as you hold his head to your bottom lip.

matty’s hand never leaves your head as he twitches, filling your throat and coating your tongue in warm, salty cum. he’s calling your name, breath heaving and hips shuddering.

“fuck, darling,” he breathes out.

he slides out of your mouth. when his orgasm subsides, he watches you lick your lips and swallow his load, before tucking his softening dick under his boxers and pulling his jeans back up.

“you’re mental.”

you watch in a distant haze of ecstasy as matty does his pants up himself and takes your chin in his hand.

breathing heavy, you look up at him, eyes hooded.

"come here," he whispers, and your tired legs hoist you back up to height.

his hand grips your hips and pulls you down into his lap. he doesn’t waste a second to taste himself on your tongue.

you let your eyes fall closed as you breathe each other in.

"so good to me," matty mumbles against your forehead, and you lazily smile, “should thank those girls on tiktok.”

you laugh and shove his shoulder back, “you’re ridiculous.”

“oh?” he grins and wraps your legs around his middle as he stands up, “so you don’t want a reward right now?”

you trail kisses from his cheek down his neck as he carries you to his bedroom, “didn’t say that.”

“s’what i thought.”

[toshio]

okay friends. it's been a while since i did an "anime recommendation" post but i'm gonna try do more of them! just remind me on anon or something, i love doing them & sharing my fave anime w/ y'all, duh.

do you like historical fiction? japan? hip-hop music? nujabes? (rip legend, he died in 2010) giant swords, drama and action?

let me yap to you about one of my favorite animes ever.

"samurai champloo" サムライチャンプルー (2004)

the series takes place during an "alternate" version of Edo Japan (anywhere from 1603 to 1867) and it's not historically accurate at all, it's basically just historical fanfiction. even though the anime takes place during the past, the characters are written veryyy contemporary (2000s lingo basically). expect to hear upbeat, hip-hop music with otherwordly yet immaculately produced instrumentals/samples while there's swords clashing.

speaking of music...

let me tell you. the soundtrack on this anime is fucking INSANE. if you enjoy hip hop music, fresh beats, instrumental music that will make you stay up at night and question your existence, this anime has it. mind you, this music was released in the year 2004, and kids on tiktok now are jamming to "aruarian dance" (one of my favorite instrumental songs from the OST) and putting it in the background of their influencer or goofy cat reels. the year i'm writing this post is 2025 and the kiddos fucking looove this anime's soundtrack. it's absolutely timeless. get. into. it. it's that fucking good. all of it is on spotify and other streaming platforms btw. support my king nujabes.

to summarize the plot, Samurai Champloo follows the adventures of three (3) characters. a young girl who's originally a tea waitress (Fuu) who brings two gifted swordsmen with her. their polarizing personalities make the series extremely entertaining, as they often clash and argue over anything. (just dudes being dudes, y'know?)

Mugen (in red) who's your typical jackass. he's rude and lewd. loves women. very unhinged. a lot of fans vibe w/ this guy, his personality is unlike anything i've ever seen in anime. absolute trailblazer. he's the type of kid in high school to pick a fight with you for absolutely no goddamn reason, like over your lunch or something petty.

Jin (in blue) is your typical good guy. quiet dude who is calm and collected. he rarely smiles, and is basically that one quiet kid who's a total badass. we all knew that kid growing up. that's jin. we love jin.

i guarantee you the first episode of this anime will have you HOOKED. this anime is the origin of this iconic misleading boob gif btw. weeb tumblr veterans know exactly what i'm talking about.

the first episode is such a rollercoaster, and a really good introduction to the series. oh and this is one of those rare anime series where the english dub is STELLAR. highly recommend the english dub if you don't like reading japanese subtitles. it fits perfectly with the hip hop music playing in the background. you've got amazing voices like Steve Blum (voices Mugen), Kirk Thornton (voices Jin), and the iconic Kari Wahlgren (voices Fuu).

let me know if you guys pick up this anime, it's a classic! you can get your daily dose of Japan, sword clashing, and hip hop beats. there's about 26 episodes total, nothing too crazy long.

[wellfine]

Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pedro, Pe praticamente il meglio di Santa Fè 🐆

[himemeiya]

Oh yes, they both reached for the gun... [x/x]

[tapakah0]

Joining yeye23

[snowyroads]

oh. my. god.

[morganbritton132]

Love the idea of Steve and Eddie being so sickening in love that Eddie calling him by his name makes Steve be like “why are you being mean”. Imagining how funny it would be if Steve was hanging out with a new friend or co worker or something at the house for the first time and Eddie comes in and is like “hey Steve” and kisses him on the cheek before introductions and obligatory “how was your day” and when Eddie leaves a couple minutes later the new friend is about to comment on how nice Steve’s husband seems when Steve turns to her and is like “I’m so so sorry you had to see that he is not usually like that he is just still pissy about (insert dumb funny thing here)”

This is cute and hilarious, and it’s so canon to this AU that it hurts. I love it so much.

I’m picturing Steve having a group of teachers over because they’re part of a committee and they’re planning an event at the school. Some of the teachers are people that Steve has known years, but the majority are people who don’t know Eddie outside of the guy that sometimes picks Steve up on bad brain days.

They’re in the thick of making posters and streamers when Eddie comes into the house, guitar case in hand from practicing at Jeff’s. He comes into the dining room where everybody is, plants a kiss on Steve’s cheek like, “Hey, Steve. Missed you.”

“Missed you more,” Steve hums back, sinking into Eddie’s side when he wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him closer.

Eddie rests his head on Steve’s shoulder and looks down at the poster he is making. It’s very glittery. He asks, “How’s it going?”

He listens attentively as Steve tells him of all they’ve accomplished and even reminds him of something that he said he wanted to do for the event and forgot about. He smiles and shakes hands when he’s introduced to other teachers and even recalls some of the things Steve told him about them.

At the ends of it, Eddie kisses Steve’s cheek again, tells him that they’re doing amazing work, and then says, “I’ve got a melody in my head, gonna go iron it out. Let me know if you need anything.”

He even says as he leaves, “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Steve echoes back. Once the basement door closes, Steve just sighs and says so apologetically, “I’m so sorry you had to see that and if it made any of you uncomfortable. He’s not typically like that, you know. He’s just mad at me right now because I won’t walk a red carpet with him next week.”

At first everybody thinks that he’s joking but Steve looks so genuinely embarrassed that they have to believe him. Everybody is just like, “Excuse me, he’s mad at you?? He isn’t usually like that??? Meaning that he’s typically more loving and affectionate???”

Kathy, a seventh grade English teacher who shares way too much about her failing marriage, is just like, “Shoot, I can’t even get my husband to say he loves me half the time.”

“Kathy,” Steve says sincerely. “You need to divorce your husband.”

“I know.”

There’s a beat of silence before David, a newer teacher at the school, asks, “Red carpet? He is like, movie star or something?”

[gyutaro-truther]

Headlock - Imogen Heap you know you're better than this...

[philsmeatylegss]

Me bopping to a song whose chorus is about passive suicidal ideation and waiting for death to experience less pain for the next few weeks

[the-meme-monarch]

you could kiss a hundred boys in bars/ shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling/ you could say it’s just the way you are/ make a new excuse, another stupid reason/ good luck babe (well good luck), well good luck babe (well good luck)/ you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling/ good luck babe (well good luck) well good luck babe (well good luck)/ you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

[vagueconfusion]

III and IV playing together + a lil headbutt; from the first Chicago ritual of the Teeth Of God Tour [05/15/2024]

Video taken by saraweddle on TikTok

[gods-favorite-autistic]

The curse of no one around me irl knowing or caring about Greek mythology or the odyssey is that no one understands why I’m annoyed about people complaining that one of the songs in the epic ocean saga isn’t the ‘get in the water’ because that’s not how the fucking odyssey works!!!!!

[ssparksflyy]

i lied. put your clothes back on. we're gonna listen to bruno mars and lady gaga eating up the vocals in die with a smile on loop for the next 12 hours

[badgopher]

friday

◈ Back when music meant iTunes and a folder of MP3s, I had a bunch of smart playlists that divvied up my music library by the year the songs were released. When I signed up with Spotify, I used some tool to try and migrate all my stuff from iTunes and it was mostly not good, but a few of the released playlists made it over. And then I forgot all about them for a half dozen years. Because streaming.

Anyhow, I finished Warbreaker at the beginning of the week (it was mostly good, I'll venture into other Brandon Sanderson in the future) and didn't have another book lined up, so I went trawling through Spotify and found these ancient playlists. Mosquitos in amber. And so I've spent the back half of the week revisiting curated tunes from 2014-2016.

The connection between music and memories is wild. 🎧

◈ It was barely drizzling for most of today's lunchtime walk but I'm Californian. I'll melt. ☔

◈ My biggest hesitation about booking a trip out to Richmond in February was the potential for Winter. I don't love dealing with slippery roads at the best of times, less so in a rental car in an unfamiliar city. Last week the long range forecast had like 3.8" of snow and freezing temperatures next Wednesday (when I arrive and have to drive across town at night). Now they're saying just loads of rain and temps mostly above freezing, so I think I'll survive. Probably. Unless I melt. ❄️

◈ I installed TurboTax and plugged in a bunch of preliminary numbers and now I'm very sad. And very broke. Here's to hoping things shake out differently once the final final numbers are ready. 🤞

◈ Somehow I got 9 hours and 13 minutes of sleep last night? If I could figure out how that happened—and repeat it—I think I'd be like 3 steps away from unstoppable. 🛌