#Rb so people can see :3

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[spitedemon]

i really don’t think it’s “typical dragon age fandom nonsense” for people to be genuinely upset about the world state choices. combat, level design, art direction, gameplay gimmicks, those have all varied across each dragon age game. the one thing that’s remained constant are nods to our previous choices.

i wasn’t expecting my HoF to come riding in on a griffon, but i can’t find a monument dedicated to warden tabris somewhere around the anderfels? lucanis couldn’t have some lines about the time that one arainai boy was stirring up trouble in antiva city? you’re gonna tell me that making a mage the new divine wouldn’t have some impact on nevarra and antiva? on the anderfels, the supposed most devout militant andrastian nation in thedas? you’re saying nobody in the north is paying attention to who rules orlais or ferelden? come on.

[somnimagus]

My page for @kairizine. It was such a huge honor to be part of this wonderful book with everyone, I had so much fun!

[id in alt!]

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

I really liked this last year so deco my tree !!!

[stylezxsilvermoon]

okay yeah ! so i think i am gonna do a xmas theme, also i feel like this "promo" for cool kids / i'm faded is me trying toooooooo hard

(big rant under the cut)

, idk i just get very frustrated at these things so i think im just gonna go back to posting when i wanna, like being so real its always been my dream to be a big account and share with my readers, and at my CORE i still wanna be that but the issue is i dont know WHERE to start, and its not like im a new writer i've been writing since i was like 15 (what i'd consider the writing i like) and im just so ????!! about it, like i feel so physically incapable of being a fandom writer like i can't explain it its everything i want but everytime i work towards it i just self implode and stop posting / stop writing, like i still wanna write OBVIOUSLY but the pressure of wanting to "make it big" destroys me like everytime idek? and it seems so easy when i think about it but then when i do it its like LOL NOPE idc idc how much effort you put in. and yes it could be the fact i've never posted a complete fic so there's really nothing for people to know me for, i just feel like people get "suprised" i write on here LIKE YEAH, i post like insanely haphazardly but yeah i do!! and it feels so preformative and ugh.

also i've struggled for a long time on what i wanna do with this account, i wanna speak up about things which includes RB'ing a shit ton, but ive always had an unhealthy imbalance of what i wanna do on here, i wanna be a writing account but what abt the stuff i wanna bring to light by RB'ing, and yes i have other side accounts but they're all for fun, i dont wanna seperate my intrests because they all belong here, just like i do, its kinda my home atp. i feel like i'm one of those people who you dont miss on dash because i rarely curate my own posts and just silently reblog so ig its kinda my fault. idk, the more ive been thinking i feel like the "big fandom writer" thing isn't gonna be for me, and then AT THE SAME TIME i feel like im shooting myself in the foot everytime i complain and wanna pick up the fight again, but idk ive been whining abt it since i was like 15 and im oh so tired with everything going on in the world so i'm just gonna write my fics.

i feel like i write so diff from everyone else, like when i post something i want it to convey something in you, i want you to feel moved and feel appreciated and loved and happy reading something i make, and i dont even know if my writing is built to do that and i may be just dicksucking myself. idek. i dont wanna post for just notes i wanna talk about what i write with other people and for people to ask me why i chose what i did and why i wrote my stories and how it made them feel or what they like about it, and i just feel like im pandering to an audience that doesn't exist everytime i idek, write author's notes, ask for feedback, talk to people about what they like, i've always taken myself way too seriously and i just feel like modern fandom is so. so.

like i grew up reading 2010's fanfics and thats the kinda vibe i like creating, like 2012 chronically online wattpad stories, with long chapters and chatty authors and a bunch of funny comments, i just idk.

[reshiram]

feel free to vote no matter how much xeno(saga) knowledge you have!! ^__^

[kn11ves]

my comic is live right now!

kyle and rex is an absurdist drama set in a stagnant afterlife where everyone lies, cheats, manipulates, and hurts each other in order to gain political power and admiration from the public.

with characters constantly haunted by ghosts of the past, trying to stay on top of the food chain despite constant betrayals and having their secrets held up above their heads, comes back kyle, from his long stay back as a guiding spirit on earth, to take back reigns of the throne in the inbetween. though much like everyone else, hes got a long list of dirty laundry that many are aching to reveal. there are no real friends here.

⸻

updates every 2 weeks, at 6:30 pm central US time! (SP & ENG)

WEBTOON: english link + spanish link

TAPAS: english link + spanish link

FANEO: spanish link

[shirogane-oushirou]

ren lap save me. ren lap. save me ren lap. that's my pillow, give it to me.

[phynixdotcom]

Today is a good day to hunt down your favorite artist, & reblog some of their art to show them u care

Even if it is older art, I am sure they will appreciate the few seconds it takes to rb, ESPECIALLY if you put a nice comment on that bad boy!

[jojo-schmo]

This is the sweetest, cutest, MOST AMAZING SCENE EVER!!!! An entire animation, and it’s so smooth and clean and funny and full of character and LOVE!!

Thank you so much for sharing this, I LOVE IT!!!! 🩵🩵🩵

goofing around

( @jojo-schmo )

[fitzfunnymoments]

Suddenly realizing Oh okay so once again a psychiatrist is refusing to see me because of my selective mutism

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

[ID: An image with five silhouettes of heads showing different apples. Choice 1 is shown as a hyper-realistic red apple with shading and color, 2 as a slightly less realistic apple with less shading, 3 as the same apple as 2 but in black and white, 4 as the outline of the apple with no color, and 5 as no visual apple. End ID]

asking bc i found out i have aphantasia recently (no visual) and did not realize people can See the things they are visualizing in their minds. for reference i'm a 5 (completely dark/no visual and only think about the apple w/ concepts)

[forhyune]

· . ˚

11:36 P.M. — Hwang Hyunjin is no stranger to compliments.

How couldn’t he be, when his grip on every stadium is one of titanium, when he looks and sounds like a figment of a sweet dream, when he is all that he is? And he loves the flattery. He’ll bow graciously and utter his thanks, his head lowered just far enough to conceal the smirk on his lips that says: oh, I know.

But it’s different with you. Maybe it’s because he’s clung to everything you’ve said to him since the day you met, curating a mental archive of the greatest love he'll ever know. Maybe it’s because he feels the urge to smile just looking at your face. Maybe he's that much of an enamored idiot that your praise makes him feel like he’s touching the sky.

Whatever the reason, your compliments destroy him, and tonight is no exception.

Hyunjin’s head is hovering over the sink, headband holding back his hair, hands slathering cleanser over his skin, when his phone goes off. It’s unusual for him to receive emails so late, and he rinses and dries himself with a touch of irritation. Surely it can wait until tomorrow. But the annoyance subsides when Hyunjin starts to read: photos came out early . . . congratulations again . . . will be in touch with next steps.

Behind him, the bathroom door opens, and in walks a figure with tired eyes and a matching headband over their hairline. Hyunjin feels arms circle around his waist and a familiar warmth press up against his back. “I ran out of face soap,” you mumble.

Without looking up from his screen, Hyunjin picks up his cleanser and holds it by his hip, so that you only need extend your fingers to snatch it away. You place a kiss on his cheek as a quick way of thanks, bringing a small, helpless smile to his face.

The next few minutes are spent in silence, save for the sounds of your washing. It isn’t until you glance in the mirror and see your boyfriend’s fascination with his phone that you notice something’s up.

“What’re you looking at?” You hum, curious.

Hyunjin’s reply is casual. Too casual. “The photos from the Versace shoot came out early.”

At this, you whip around to look at him. Your face is illuminated with a smile that stretches from ear to ear, the fatigue in your eyes replaced with pure anticipation. A mysterious warmth begins to spread through Hyunjin, starting in his chest and traveling as far as his cheeks, dusting them pink with embarrassment. (And so Hyunjin’s destruction begins.)

“Show me,” you demand.

Hyunjin tilts his screen in your direction, finally unable to quell the proud grin that he’s been biting back for so long. You nestle into his side and wrap your hands around his tricep, as if looking to hang onto something for emotional support, but nothing could've prepared you for what you see: silky dark hair pinned back by a pair of white sunglasses, facial features so ethereal that they rival the sculptures of Michelangelo himself, jewelry and suit jacket dull in comparison to his golden complexion, all rearranged into poses and expressions so confident and effortless that one would think he’s been doing this for years.

It is too much for you.

The noise that comes out of your mouth is terrifying—a mixture of a moan and a gasp except you’re being mauled by a mountain lion, or something—and Hyunjin starts to laugh, the forceful, involuntary kind that seizes his entire being.

“Are you kidding me?" You let go of his arm to grab hold of his phone with both hands, bringing it within inches of your face. "Is this real life?”

“What sound did you just make—?" Hyunjin is now sliding down the wall, barely able to get his words out. "Wait, I can’t breathe, stop—”

You ignore him, and Hyunjin genuinely thinks he’s going to dissolve when he sees that you’ve zoomed in far enough for his face, just his face, to take up the entire screen. “This can’t be real,” you mutter. “You can’t be real.”

“Shut up, you idiot—”

Hyunjin suddenly feels a pair of hands on his cheeks, and you start littering kisses all over his face, first on his forehead, then his temple, then his nose, his jaw, weaving words in between to form a sentence: you are the most beautiful man in the whole world, Hwang Hyunjin. He disappears into a new fit of laughter, his cheeks sore from how hard he’s beaming, his ears burning crimson. He feels like he might burst, he’s so happy, so in love.

You then pull away for a breather, and whatever plea for mercy Hyunjin has prepared goes forgotten when it occurs to him how close the two of you are, with you basically straddling him and wisps of your hair tickling his face. And you look stunning right now, barefaced and blushing and radiant. His laughter dissipates at last, leaving behind only a helplessly fond smile that turns his eyes to crescents.

“My prince,” you whisper, bumping your nose lightly against his. “Mine.”

He physically cannot go a second longer without kissing you, leaning in and sealing his grin against yours with the intensity of an oath. Yours. Forever.

“Thank you, baby."

(The truth is that Hyunjin destroys you first. It is only natural that you return the favor.)

[parkjayssi]

✦ PAC : TWISTED FANTASIES

what does ur future partner think about you at night? 18+

!MINORS PLEASE DNI

like & rb are appreciated

i'm a beginner in tarot so please take everything with a grain of salt

do not copy or steal my work

🖤 | pile one!

okay, pile one, seems like your fs has a thing for power imbalance when it comes to sex. they imagine you completely submitting to their will and doing it raw and wild. they'd make sure to have a safe word but definitely wants to make sure that you are a stuttering mess or they won't be satisfied because they feel like they haven't even gave you their best. they also imagine indulging you with a nice meal at restaurant or just spending some money on you before doing it. pampering you a lot is something they want to do to make this experience so much more indulging.

they seem to have a strong masculine presence, pile one, because the idea of trapping you under them and making you submit seems to be a repeating pattern here. they also seem to have a corruption kink, this isn't necessarily taking your virginity but introducing you to some new things that could elevate it. bondage is evident, blindfolds and handcuffs or ropes. as I said, definitely wants to make you feel helpless. their only goal is to make you feel the most pleasure as possible and so they'd do everything to enhance the experience, even if it's just a fantasy in their pretty little head (・ω<)

🖤 | pile two!

goddamn, pile 2, your fs really put you on a pedestal for their fantasies. they see you as this untouchable god/goddess and they feel blessed to even look at you. they think that even imagining how they treat you in bed is a sin but they still dare to imagine that doing it with you might alleviate those sins, even if it's just a bit. they really think that only you can liberate them from their dirty thoughts that they should've never had in first place. they are really attentive to your needs too, pile 2. they make sure to be gentle and not hurt you in any way.

this pile is really just soft and sweet, caring sex. they also imagine that having sex with you is a scared experience, wanting to intertwine not only your bodies but your souls as one. they also imagine you voicing your needs as they are also open to anything you'd want to do. they probably seem to be a gentle dom/sub. really precious people, pile 2 <333

🖤 | pile three!

ooh, pile 3, your fs has a really interesting fantasy. they imagine exploring new boundaries with you that they previously placed on themselves. probably trying something new that they were scared to or just did not seem interested before you entered their life. they seem to be quite assertive with what they like or dislike so this is very different from the usual self that they are.

they have this fantasy of trying positions that let you be on top and just admiring you while they sit back and relax. they want to give you this illusion of you being in control and just let you have your way for some time and then they switch up to assert themselves since, as i said, they are quite assertive, both in real life and in bed. there's also another interpretation for some of you out there, that they have this fantasy of having sex to make up, basically angry sex to let both of your frustrations out. also pile 3, if you get attracted to pile 1, there might be extra messages for you

extra : this pile gives gojo satoru from jjk vibes so ifykyk

[presidentsdaughter]

i’m dumb (she’s a lesbian)

ft. jimmy x fem!reader

tags. homophobia, non-con/rape, jimmy forces himself on a lesbian, homophobic slurs, forced orgasm, facial, death threats, choking, misogyny

note. um #yeah don’t like don’t read. rbs and feedback always appreciated :3 ignore any mistakes this is unedited, gets very disjointed..

Jimmy sees you from across the bar. You have this cute little girl pout and these bouncy tits that really have some life to them. Your stuck-up friend is already all over Curly, raking her acrylic claws down his chest while he buys her a fruity drink.

He doesn’t even get the chance to open his mouth before you’re covering your drink, mouth a thin red line as you tell him—“I’m a lesbian.”

Beside him, your friend is giggling obnoxiously at something unfunny Curly has said. He’s got this pretty young thing rubbing up on him, pressing her perky tits against his and it’s so not fair that he gets stuck with the dyke.

”Didn’t ask.” Jimmy’s lip curls up in distaste like he wasn’t just wondering about whether your pussy was shaved or not. After that revelation, he’s guessing you let it get a little wild. Feminism and lesbianism and bush and all that. They go hand in hand. “You sure as hell don’t look like one.” He can never help himself, he can’t leave it at that.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, standing a little straighter, the anger that flares up inside of you has taken you off guard. The hand once firmly placed over your cocktail is in a tight fist by your side.

Jimmy shrugs. “I’m just sayin’ you don’t look like one.” He leers at you, your shapely thighs and heart-shaped ass. “You sure about it?”

“Yes I am.”

He takes you in. Perfect down to your manicured, painted toes. You’ve got this look about you, a certain softness that comes with never having to work for what you want. “How’d you know?” He taunts, tilting his head in challenge. “You slept with a guy before?”

“I don’t need to sleep with a guy to know.” You take a step back, raising a dainty paw in the air to keep him at arms length - those rings could double as knuckle dusters, well-tended to cuticles, nails filed into perfect chromatic black points, the polish shining like the shells on brilliant, exotic beetles.

He doesn’t buy it. You’re young, stupid, and confused.

“Yeah? You want a sticker for that?” It’s okay, really, happens to the best people. Confusion does. Jimmy caught a glimpse of Curly’s dick at a sleepover once and he was confused for a week or so. He passed it off as jealousy. That thing was a monster. There’s no way Jimmy wanted it up his ass. He doesn’t want anything up his ass, and you just need to be broken in.

You knock back your drink - the one he considered spiking, one hand in his pocket messing with a baggie - signalling to your friend that you’re stepping outside for a smoke. Instead of taking it as a cue to back off, Jimmy follows, slinking behind you like bad news. A fox in the bushes, nifty and deliberate like he’s ready to pounce, but happy to stalk you from afar.

“Leave me alone.” You raise your voice, hoping to catch the attention of anyone as he trails you, heavy footfall matching the click-clack of your pristine heels.

“I just want to talk,” Jimmy drawls, humoured by your clumsy urgency, a hand striking out to clamp down on your wrist. You’re fever-hot, a flame he’d happily let burn him alive. He’s a moth, wings scorched for one fleeting moment in your light.

Worth it.

“About what?!”

“Come on,” Jimmy sighs like he’s hurt, “about us.”

“There is no us, I don’t know you!” You’re so fun to rile up. So young and fiery and easy. “I know it must be hard for you to find a girl that wants to put up with…” With your free hand, you gesture abstractly to him, the wear and tear of his aging face, dirty jeans, scuffed boots, the scruff. “With this… But I am a lesbian, okay? I like girls, I don’t want to have sex with you, I don’t even want to be near you.”

To be entirely frank, it doesn’t matter if you’re a lesbian or a doctor or a cleaner or a nurse or a lawyer, you could be the goddamn president and Jimmy wouldn’t give a fuck. You’re a girl, and even prissy little dykes have wet little pussies between their thighs.

So, he backs you up against a brick wall, blocking your view of the street, of the drunk bar-goers walking by, the cars zooming past. One of Jimmy’s cold hands moves fast up your thigh and under your dress, trapping itself in your cotton undies. “I don’t care,” he tells you honestly, sneering down at you while he cups your warm cunt.

It’s freshly shaved. A lesbian that shaves, alright. Sure. Whatever floats your boat.

“Aw.” Jimmy gives you a falsely cordial smile as you writhe, mouth open in silent terror as you try to comprehend what’s happening. “Look at that.” He runs his finger along the seam of your cunt, the razor bumps. “You thought you were gonna get laid, that’s so cute.” And you will. By him. Your efforts won’t go to waste. A dick is a man’s best friend, and soon it’ll be yours too.

He squeezes your mound and you yelp, squirming in his grasp. You smell like cinnamon and lotion and incense and expensive, girly things that make him slightly ill. “I’ve got a gun,” says Jimmy, who does not have a gun. His unspoken threat has your body going ramrod straight, fear glazing over your eyes. “Good girl,” he hums, taking his hand out of your panties, wiping it on his jeans.

You don’t have the chance to run, not when his arm is around your shoulders, not when you probably think he has a gun, and especially not in those heels. “I don’t want to—I don’t want to go with you.”

“God.” Jimmy rolls his eyes. “I told you I don’t care.” Kicking up a fuss in the middle of the street, you're a difficult one. It’s okay though, he likes fighters. He likes to watch them kick and scream. It gets so boring when they start to like it.

“Help me!” You wave your arm wildly at a group of three who he’d spotted inside the bar earlier, they’re arm in arm, two guys and a pretty girl. She’s the first one to say anything, breaking away from her friends to ask if you’re okay. Ugh. He hates it.

“Babe,” Jimmy says, putting on his patient, slightly stressed boyfriend voice, “we need to get you home, come on.”

“He’s taking me! He tried to—“

“Babe,” he cuts in smoothly, a hand low on your back, rubbing circles into your skin, “I’m sorry about her, total lightweight, I should put her on a leash.”

“No worries, man.” The taller guy says, his cheeks are red from drinking. “This one gets like that too.” He laughs and pats the girls head. She’s hesitant to go even when he takes her arm.

“Are you sure—“

“Yes.” Jimmy nods.

“No! Oh my god—No, please don’t go!” Your eyes dart around for anyone else as they become mere dots in your vision, an escape route that doesn’t exist while Jimmy very happily drags you back to his car.

“I told you I had a gun,” he says very casually, like he’s reading a news report off of a teleprompter, loading you into the car like a fancy piece of luggage, “what if I used it?”

“I don’t believe you.” You cross your arms, trembling, fidgeting, and sniffling. Trying to come to terms with it all. “I can’t believe any of this, oh my god, you’re, like, kidnapping me you sicko!”

“I don’t want to keep you,” Jimmy clarifies. You’re already a handful, what could he possibly want from you that extends past your virgin pussy?

“So what do you want from me?” You ask, frowning down at your lap and dabbing away at the tears in your eyes.

“I’m just gonna show you a good time,” he reassures, patting your thigh, undeterred by the sharp slap you give his naughty hand, “no need to worry.”

For what might be the first time in your life, or at least Jimmy assumes, you fall completely quiet, watching the road with big, doleful eyes.

“Listen,” Jimmy sighs, “I just want to help you out, I don’t think it’s wrong or anything, uh, lesbians.“ Dykes, he wanted to say. “I just think you should try it out, a real dick, you ever put anything inside you?” He takes your silence as a no. “I guess not, huh? I’ve watched the videos—“ Religiously he watches them. Girls squeezing their tits together, spreading their holes for the camera before they lick into each other’s cunts, sloppy pussies slotting against one another, clits bumping. “—Just feels like something’s missing, something, uh, something real, it’s not sex if there’s no dick, if nothing goes inside.” He glances over at you. “What I’m trying to say is, you can’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“Are you done?” Your voice breaks.

“Uh, not really, but sure.” He wasn’t sure where he was going with that anyways. Maybe that dildos don’t count as dicks.

”You’re going to rape me.” You whimper like you haven’t known his intentions this entire time.

Bingo.

“Yeah.” Jimmy shrugs. “I guess I am.”

Your shoulders begin to shake, chest heaving as you try to control the jagged breaths that cut into you, hands covering your face as you sob.

He sighs, already exhausted by the dramatics. “And then I’m going to kill you,” he says dryly.

You sob louder, tossing your head back to really open your airways up, get as loud as possible.

“Alright, alright, I’m kidding,” Jimmy murmurs, rough palm smoothing over your inner thigh. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Jimmy’s bed creaks with the deadweight of your body, it’s halfway busted, he found the mattress at a garage sale. Stained, noisy, but otherwise okay. He gets on top of you, hair hanging over your face like he’s isolating you from the rest of the world, there’s no way out of this.

You haven’t stopped crying. Snivelling, pouting, hiccuping like a child. Desperate sobs dying out in the face of his indifference. “Let me go,” you beg, “please don’t do this to me—“

God. That gets old fast.

He pays you no mind, used to tuning it out, both your wrists in his hand as he slides your panties down your kicking legs, dress scrunched up around your waist like a belt. Your pussy is too cute to go unfucked.

Jimmy undoes his belt, it hangs loose like a thread while he watches you pant and kick uselessly, thrashing like you’re working against a strong current. It’s cute. You’re trying to push through even as tiredness takes your tender muscles in its claws, spreading through your body like poison. Aw. You tuckered yourself out.

“Done?” Jimmy huffs out a laugh through his nose, sliding his jeans and boxers down his hips in one go, cock popping out and hanging heavy, the thick head prodding your thigh. It wets your skin with sticky pre and you recoil visibly, a shuddered breath passing through you. “Touch it,” he urges, “won’t bite.”

“No,” you mumble, closing your eyes, refusing to look at him or touch him or even breathe in his direction.

Clicking his tongue, Jimmy spreads your thighs, running the fat head up your slit. You’re not wet so he parts your cunt lips with his index and forefinger, a glob of spit dropping from his mouth, trickling down your folds and into your ass crack. It’ll do.

He presses the head to your tiny opening, where no real cock has been, this pretty little dyke cunt all for his taking. You cry out when he pushes in, hands flying to his shoulders, your nails on his skin are rewarding.

“No… No—It hurts, oh god.” Your eyes are wide open, jaw hanging open, pussy split open as he slides his dick in inch by painful inch, the painful drag of his shaft on your raw walls.

You push him out and he pushes harder on purpose, working against the resistance your cunt puts up until his balls press neatly to the swell of your ass. You’re saying something and Jimmy isn’t listening, too busy watching where the two of you meet, your hole split like an open wound. A rusty knife in your guts.

He grows tired of your aimless chatter, hand wrapping around your neck so tight you grow frantic, unable to draw breath, suffocating as every part of you is ruined by him. “I know it hurts,” Jimmy says monotonously, “it’ll get better.”

Hips drawn back, with a little difficulty, you’re not wet enough for it to happen smoothly, Jimmy slams back into you with a grunt, tip jabbing at your cervix so hard you let out a strangled noise. “Tell you what, I’ll pull out if you cum for me.”

Now, the female orgasm is none of Jimmy’s business, its a myth for all he cares, but to get a dyke to cum, that’s a different story. You’re going to cum no matter what, you don’t really have a say. Even when he removes his hand from your throat, there’s not much you can do about the deft fingers working on your clit.

It’s not quite right. Your pussy isn’t wet like a pussy should be. Sticky, letting the pads of his fingers glide over your clit until you cream your stupid dyke cunt all over him. Instead, it’s slippery, he ends up rubbing too hard, pinching your clit until his fingertips prune. Your breath is uneven, shaky, chapped lips parted as a pained look contorts your pretty face.

You are pretty. Too pretty to be a dyke. Too pretty to not be stuffed full of a big dick, he’s doing the right thing here. You just needed a push in the right direction.

He feels it, the way you go rigid, pussy so tight you cut off his blood circulation, and you cry. Boo-fucking-hoo, he made you cum. God forbid. Girls are never happy. You don’t make them cum and they claim to be gay, you make them cum and they freak out on you.

“I told you,” Jimmy hums, popping his cock out of your stretched hole, shifting upwards so his thighs are on either side of your head, “you gotta give it a try, now you don’t have to be confused.” He jerks his cock slowly, admiring the dead-eyed expression you’ve taken on, barely even blinking as he blows his load all over your face, in your hair and those expensive-looking false lashes.

Even dykes are a little straight, they just need a push in the right direction.

[itadorey]

☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ [𝟖:𝟓𝟑 𝐩.𝐦.] 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

wc: 617, a repost from an old blog, gn reader, fluff

ignoring gojo satoru is not an easy feat, although you assume that you've gained some kind of proficiency at doing so throughout the years you've known him.

high school gojo was not someone you looked forward to seeing every day, not that 28 year old "i'm-the-strongest-jujutsu-sorcerer-in-the-world" gojo is any better. but, you will concede that maybe, just maybe, there is a tiny part of him that has indeed matured.

but then he goes and annoys nanami and you wonder if maybe he hasn't changed at all.

one of the main things about gojo satoru that bothers you is the fact that he knows he's attractive and powerful, and he doesn't mind reminding people about those facts every single day. you don't know if you should be attracted by the confidence he exudes or put off by his attitude.

yet when you're the one he's teasing (because he hates being ignored, especially by you), a cocky smirk on his face as he pulls his blindfold up to catch your eye, you can't help but feel the former. and your attraction to the white-haired sorcerer is only getting harder and harder to hide.

"just tell him how you feel," shoko drawls, taking a sip of her drink and ignoring your pointed look. you look around the room, making sure that nanami and gojo hadn't arrived yet. you turn your gaze back to shoko when she speaks once again. "it's not like we can't feel the sexual tension between the two of you whenever you're in the same room. to be completely honest, we're all getting tired of seeing the two of you skirt around your feelings for each other. even yaga."

"yaga?" you ask, a horrified expression on your face as you imagine your teacher-turned-principal witnessing the admittedly flirty (not to mention embarrassing) exchanges between you and gojo. "oh god. i don't know if i can face him again."

"who?" shoko asks. "yaga? or satoru?"

"both," you groan, letting your forehead fall onto the table. you look up when shoko pokes your side, and you see her tilting her head towards the entrance of the bar. standing at the entrance is nanami, a scowl on his face as gojo, hair unruly and sunglasses perched on his nose, hangs off his arm. a faint smirk spreads across nanami's face as he nods politely towards you, diverting gojo's attention towards you.

it's brief, lasting a mere second, but everyone in the room can see the way gojo's face lights up when his eyes land on you. he tilts his head down slightly, making sure that his view is unobstructed as he takes in your appearance. you can feel his bright, blue eyes burning into you, gaze soft as he takes in your after-work attire. visible only to nanami is the pink blush creeping up gojo's neck, bright against his pale skin as you wave them over.

nanami and shoko exchange tired looks as gojo slides into the seat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and trying to distract you from your conversation with shoko as you continue to ignore him. shoko shakes her head softly, and nanami nods in understanding as he takes the seat next to you, immediately holding up a hand to flag down a waiter. the two of them pretend not to notice the way gojo's smile grows when you finally turn to face him.

sure, everyone might be tired of the way you and gojo are avoiding your very obvious feelings for one another, but the way gojo is looking at you in this very moment lets them know that it won't be long before he finally tries to sweep you off your feet.

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!