#Whether or not that is a joke is entirely up to you

[reimenaashelyee]

TCM 10th Anniversary

I haven't been very online and posting much art as of late, due to a surprising number of OBLIGATIONS (teaching gigs, job-hunting and catching up with lots of other comics work, which includes what I am gonna talk about in this post) and some disillusionment about posting art on platforms.

Some of you are gonna be shocked by this but 2026 is going to mark 10 years since I posted the first page of The Carpet Merchant of Konstantiniyya on my webcomic's website. This is a pretty big meaningful event to me -- TCM is my first ever completed graphic novel and the reason why I am able to have a comics career now. So obviously I want to celebrate it big and wrap my journey with TCM with a nice fancy extravagant bow.

I've been wanting to do a full FINAL remaster of all of 600 pages of the comic. Not so much revamping the art because I already did a lot of art fixes for the hardcover print editions, and I am still pretty chill about how everything looks! More like updating the lettering (again), correcting colours, fixing the dialogue and strengthening the themes between books, and presenting the entire two-book series at the best it could be. I learned a lot about the realities/logistics of publishing and making comics since I finished TCM, so I'm excited to be redeeming the webcomic sins of my naive past self and update TCM to the current standard of the rest of my author catalogue.

Right now I'm about 3/4 of the way of remastering the 600 pages. So close!! But I want to talk about the stuff I've already done for it!

Everything's under the cut if you are keen to hear me yap.

First thing I did for the remaster is a complete revamp of the title design. I designed the original in late 2015 - early 2016 when the webcomic began to form and never changed it. But the 10th anniversary means I can pull all the stops and go wild, especially now that I have improved in terms of design and all the skills needed to make a historical comic.

The old title was meant to evoke Ottoman calligraphic brushscript without being too cheesy. I carried this over in the new one - I still don't want it to be cheesy and I'd prefer to evoke the feel rather than the look of Ottoman/Arabic calligraphy, since the Eastern calligraphic arts (by this I mean non-Latin script. i.e China and Japan are also equally sophisticated) is no joke and I'd prefer not to attempt replicating linguistic brushstokes and patterns for Aesthetique. Not to mention Latin letters don't lend themselves to Eastern calligraphy very well.

Luckily, Latin calligraphy already exists. I wanted to include more of the 18th century English stylings of the comic into the title, and for this I looked at English Roundhand/Copperplate and the French Ronde. Lots of curlicues and flourish. The outcome is this more condensed almost stamp-like design.

The second thing I did is the book cover. I am not really sure what the final cover will look like as it's dependent on whether I get a publisher for this edition of TCM - but I've made a mockup for now!

The 10th anniversary cover has more of the Ottoman carpet influence compared to the previous covers for TCM. I'm thinking of weaving in the Rococo S-and-C leaf scrolls and other motifs into the cover too. We will see!

The third thing I did is update as many of the Turkish marbled pages as possible.

So Volume I has a fair number of marbled backgrounds - but I didn't have a lot of resources back then, so I drew all of those pages digitally. It's not authentic, per se, but it worked.

As part of the remastering, I want to emphasise the imperfect, hand-drawn, there's-a-person-behind-this feel of TCM. Not to say the personnage wasn't there before, but I wanted MORE of that, especially given the AI nonsense that's happening for the past 2 years.

So this time I went to a Turkish marbled pages workshop, taught by an ebru master (shoutout to Eslem at Anatolia Art Studio), to make my own pages ... the traditional way!

I made 6 prints, and they will be appearing in some shape or form in the final remaster. The first image at the top of this post - which is the title page - is one of those prints! The marbled pages aren't perfect - there is so much technical skill involved in transferring the prints from plastic container to paper, and I bunged that part up too much lol - but that fits the point of TCM as a project? It's all me, it's all the artist's handiwork, and it's imperfect, but that's what allows the love to show.

The fourth and final thing I will be yapping about is the actual remastering work.

Top is the 10th anniversary 2025 remaster. Bottom is 2016 version.

The differences are not that extravagant - any tweaks I am doing, including the relettering, is for consistency and clarity.

Mainly I just wanted to fix the colour sins I committed in the past. In 2016 I didn't have any idea what printing a comic entails and would require - so I naively coloured everything in RGB... and failed to consider how dark colours will print in a CMYK space and on paper... and there are a lot of DARK COLOUR SCENES!!!

Top is the 2025 fix. Bottom is the original.

You can imagine how poorly the original printed on paper. :)

It took me a month and a half to work on Volume I, as I had to reletter everything and implement so many colour fixes. Luckily Volume II has been easy, and with any luck I will be done with this project in March.

I am considering rerunning the webcomic at some point! Sound off if you want to reread TCM again. :3c

[onyourj-uls]

could you pls do yushi as a boyfriend pls? 🥺🙏

hi anon! thank you for your request and omg, ofc, i love yushi <3 me the happiest to write nct stuff 💚

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ yushi as a boyfriend

if yushi were your boyfriend, get ready for a relationship full of laughter, sweetness, and unforgettable moments. from his playful way of teasing you to those moments when his more caring and protective side comes out, he would make every day with him special.

꩜ thoughtful without even trying.

yushi is the kind of boyfriend who seems like he’s not paying much attention, but in reality, he remembers everything. did you mention once that you love a specific dessert? the next time you go out, he’ll suddenly pull out a bag of that same sweet and casually say:

"oh, i saw it and thought of you." as if he doesn’t know he just made you melt.

꩜ playful and fun.

he’s always looking for ways to make you laugh. whether it’s with silly impressions, bad jokes, or just teasing you affectionately, his goal is to see that smile on your face. he loves to mess with you, like hiding behind a door to scare you or calling you a random nickname just to see your reaction.

if you like video games, he’ll be the perfect gaming partner. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad, he’ll make every match fun. and if you lose, he’ll tease you with a smirk and say:

"want me to teach you?" (😼) while looking at you with that mischievous smile you can’t resist.

꩜ spontaneous dates and unforgettable moments.

he’s not the type to plan every detail in advance. instead, he’ll surprise you with last-minute plans that turn out to be the best memories. a simple walk can become an adventure because, suddenly, he decides to take you to a beautiful place he discovered or buy desserts from a hidden café.

he loves being on the move, but he also cherishes quiet moments. if one day you both just want to stay in, he’ll cuddle up with you on the couch, wrap his arms around you, and watch movies while shamelessly stealing your popcorn.

꩜ lots of skinship and sincere affection

When he’s comfortable, Yushi is all about physical touch. No matter where you are, he’ll always find a way to be close—holding your hand, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, or resting his head on your shoulder when he’s tired.

If you’re with others, he’ll do little things like brushing his fingers against yours or playing with the sleeves of your sweater. But if you’re alone… well, that’s when the affection becomes more obvious: long hugs, spontaneous kisses, and that intense gaze that makes you forget everything else.

꩜ protective, but not overbearing.

he’s not overly jealous, but if someone crosses the line with you, his entire demeanor changes. he’ll go from being the chill guy to someone with a serious gaze and a more assertive posture. he won’t make a scene, but he’ll make sure everyone knows you’re with him.

if you’re feeling sad or worried, instead of pressuring you, he’ll give you space while making sure you know he’s there for you. a simple:

"If you need to talk, just tell me, okay?" will be enough to make you feel safe with him.

꩜ your number one fan.

no matter what you do, to yushi, you’re the best in the world. if you get dressed up, he’ll stare at you in awe before saying something like:

"how do you always look this pretty?" (😭😭😭)

if you’re working on something, he’ll hype you up with:

"you’re going to do amazing, i just know it."

and if you achieve something, he’ll hug you excitedly and tell you how proud he is of you.

even in the simplest moments, he’ll look at you with that soft expression, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

꩜ spicy touch.

even though he has that laid-back and sweet image, when the situation calls for it, yushi can completely catch you off guard. yhere’s something about the way his voice drops when he whispers in your ear, the way his fingers trace the edge of your clothes slowly, savoring every reaction you give him.

kissing him starts off slow and playful, but once he gets carried away, his intensity shifts. His hands explore your back with more firmness, pulling you closer, while his breath against your skin makes you lose all sense of time.

and the worst (or best) part? he knows exactly what he’s doing. that little smirk after seeing you flustered, the way he murmurs in a husky voice:

"what’s wrong? can’t handle this?"… (AaaaAaAaAaaaaaaAaaa😵‍💫😵‍💫)

and at that moment, you realize that, even though he acts innocent, yushi is far more dangerous than he seems.

🌼 yushi would be the kind of boyfriend who balances sweetness and intensity perfectly. he can be playful and chill, but when he wants to, he’ll make you feel like you’re the only person in his world♡

i had a lot of fun writing this! hope u like it<3

[sirhamburrger]

rin itoshi has never been good with words.

on the field, his actions do the talking - precise, ruthless, confident. but being good in spoken language doesn't have anything to do with the way his tongue seems to freeze whenever he even goes anywhere near that three-word phrase.

so late at night, bathed in the glow of his laptop, he pours his innermost thoughts into unsent emails, knowing he’ll never have the courage to send them. when he's stressed, when he's exhausted, or when he could really use some of your love. (at least, what he imagines your love might feel like.)

so he writes.

"you make the world feel less suffocating." delete.

"i think about you a lot, a lot more than i should." delete.

"i love you."

backspace, backspace, backspace. delete.

and tonight is just like any other night, except the events of the day are weighing a little too much on him. a too-narrow victory on the field, a bruise to his ego.

he's written a veritable essay. he could scroll at full speed for five whole seconds and he still might not reach the end. his finger hovers over the backspace key, as it always does. but exhaustion weighs on him, his mind clouded from training.

send?

his hand slips in slow motion -

click.

sent.

no. oh, no, no. no.

rin stares. his breath stills. a sickening wave of panic crashes over him as reality sets in. his heart pounds against his ribs his hands fly to the keyboard. maybe he can delete it? no, it's only going to be deleted on his end. unsend it? no, no, it's way past the fifteen second window, and the option is long gone. maybe -

a notification pops up.

you have one (1) unread email.

how long has it been? three minutes, max?

he shuts his laptop. stands up. walks out of his room like running from it will erase what just happened. but like the universe's cruel version of a joke, his phone buzzes in his pocket almost immediately.

he ignores it. then again. and again until he's had enough. he groans, utterly mortified, dragging a hand over his face before finally pulling it out.

[y/n] : did you send that email to the wrong person? [y/n] : it was kinda sweet ngl [y/n] : rin? You : you read it? You : like, all of it? [y/n] : well, i'd say i'm a pretty fast reader.

his grip tightens around the phone. his ears burn.

You : it was just practice You : sorry to bother you so late at night [y/n] : it was no bother lol [y/n] : if only guys sent me emails like that [y/n] : i'd be swooning immediately

he feels a sense of relief, suddenly. or is it more like a crushing weight on his chest? he can't really tell. after saying a quick goodbye to you, he flings his phone on his bed, exhaling heavily. better you don't know about his feelings than he gets his heart broken before he's ready for it.

idly, his hands reach for the mouse, and he clicks on the unread email.

his heart stops.

it's from you. a reply to his - his vulnerability.

FROM: thetrueynln@gmail.com TO: itoshirin0909@gmail.com SUBJECT: RE: [no subject] dear rin, i wasn't sure how to start this, so i figured i'd just... start. first of all, i read every word. i'm not entirely sure i was supposed to, but i did. and i need you to know that i’m glad you sent it - even if you didn’t mean to. you say you’re bad with words, but rin, the way you wrote? it didn’t feel like that at all. it felt real. raw. like i was looking straight into your heart, even though i know you’d probably rather die than let me do that. so, should i say something back? or hould i pretend i never saw it? you didn’t exactly give me instructions, and knowing you, you’re probably freaking out right now, debating whether to block my email or delete your entire existence. but before you do that - before you try to run from this - I need to tell you something. the way you see me? the way you write about me? rin, i don’t think you realize that i see you the same way. i love you too, rin. more than i could ever express. for your perfections, but also for your perfect imperfections. i think my hands are cramping up now, so i'll end off with this: if you ever decide to write for me - or to me, whichever - don't delete it. because i'd like to hear what you have to say about me. i might have some words of my own to share, too. with love, y/n

his phone pings again, a singular text from you lighting his lock screen up.

[y/n] : see you in school tomorrow! get some rest, okay? [y/n] : <3

rin's heart stumbles in his chest, then soars.

maybe - just maybe - this unfortunate mistake wasn’t really a mistake at all.

rin itoshi writes love letters to you in his email drafts but deletes them knowing he’ll never have the courage to send them to you

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by @imogenkol and @ellswips this week, thank you both <3

Shadow Dance only has a few chapters left in it (most of it only outlined) so I figured why not share a bit of the opening to the engagement fic coming for the ship that is always on my mind as of late. If you are actually a cod canon enjoyer, as a heads up, this takes place during the final scene in MW2 during the bar scene in Chicago. This is still quite rough, and written in Price pov, so things may still change:

Sitting in the dimly lit corner booth of the back alley Chicago bar, he leans back, one arm stretched over the top of the seat, sharing a clandestine drink with one of his oldest and most trusted friends – Ironic, considering she was CIA. The music drips from the speakers, the low buzz emitting from the neon around them catching on the hairs of his arms like static. Lifting his glass to his lips, he sips as his enigmatic gaze is riveted to the scene across the length of the bar from him, watching his boys – and her – play darts like they were back home at the pub. All smiles, laughing as her head tosses back at one of Soap’s off color jokes. Something coiled in his belly, warm and alive, fending off the liquor’s bite and replacing it with a soft, fluttering creature that only seemed to nestle its way into him when she was around. The hard man with the rich, caramel center that drowned and tenaciously bound around her. Clinging, claggy. Proprietorial.

“Got something on your mind, John?” Kate asks, swallowing down her sip of bourbon with nary a hiss. Resting back in her seat, she crosses her arms over her chest, looking at him dryly.

There’s no hiding his ulterior motives from Laswell, the only other person who can read him like a children’s picture book that’s more visual than text (sub or otherwise) is Rory, and he’s not entirely sure whether that’s something he should consider himself lucky for in this case. 

“What makes you say tha’?” He shifts his shoulders against the worn vinyl of the backrest, an irritating squeak coming from it that fractures his resolve momentarily, his brows beginning to furrow.

“You’re staring.”

He forgets himself sometimes when it comes to Rory. For all his love of control, maintaining a steel trap of a mind, concocting plans and machinations, he always seems to be blindsided by the woman who’s been at his side for the last five years. It still surprises him how she can turn him into a fool with a look, a word, a smile. Melting him like butter in the heat of her sun-bright love and her radiant desire.

“Observin’.”

“Potato, patahto.”

An imperceptible little curl at the corner of his mouth, one tucked beneath the bristled whiskers of his mustache, barely sneaks by unnoticed as his eyes flicker over to Rory once more, her lilting giggle dancing over to him along the waves of bluesy guitar that carries it like a life raft. She is warmth personified, glowing in the haloed amber light of dimmed sconces and neon liquor signs, the blues and pinks shining in her hair like she’s some sort of goddamn fairy. An ethereal being that his calloused hands have no right to touch and yet still she opens like a flower to him as if he were the spring that chased away the nip of frost keeping her bud sealed shut. He realizes then that he’s never seen her in a light that doesn't suit her. From rise to set, the shadow of night, the pallid luminescence of moonlight, the beaming desert sun, firelight, and everything in between, the woman herself seems to glow from her core like the molten center of the earth and he’s desperate to feel that benevolence on his skin. 

“You’re off the clock, John. You’re allowed to have your eyes on her. I’m certainly not going to hold it against you.” Laswell glances back behind her at the rest of the 141 taking a moment of reprieve from a war that was ready to build to yet another crescendo. “You’re a lucky man.” She turns back to face him and smirks, tilting her head to look up at him from under her brow. “Let’s just hope you don’t screw it up.”

His brow knits together, creasing all the lines in his face, deep set and weathered, but the smirk remains. “Certainly not my intent.”

“Judging by the way you’re looking at her, I assume you’ve got a whole other intent in mind.”

Scratching at the side of his nose, shifting in his seat, he crawls his arms forward across the table and lowers his voice conspiratorially. A secret shared between friends. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout askin’ her to marry me.”

“Really?” Laswell sat forward in her seat as well, ready to insert herself in the juicy gossip.

“‘S a long time comin’.” He’s willing to concede that fact. Most men would have dropped to their knees and crawled on hand and foot to catch themselves a woman like her. However, most men weren’t also restricted by arbitrary military laws, ones that he had already skirted around this long, keeping what they had as a secret. But, as with all things, eventually the truth will out. “You know I’m not the romantic type, not gonna say she’s the one, but…” His head tilts sharply, underlining the unspoken implication.

“It feels right.”

Nodding, John collects the condensation lined tumbler in his paw and rubs the pad of his thumb through one of the rivulets that slide down the glass and his mind drifts to the image of the curve of Rory's lower back and the way it meandered into the rounded line of her hips as sweat drops traveled the course down to the swell of that perfect, pert little arse. “Don’t wanna lose that one, Kate,” he says, using the glass in his hand to direct attention towards the subject of the conversation. “Not ever.”

“So you’re finally putting a ring on it.”

“Yeah, s’pose I am.” Sighing, he pulls the beanie off his head and brushes his hand through his hair roughly. “You and Sam, how’d you go about it?”

“Are you asking me for relationship advice?” Brow cocked, Laswell’s eyes narrow as she stares at him, ready to make him sweat.

“Maybe.”

“This goes a little beyond a work friendship, John. Thought we had rules about mixing business and personal.”

He meets her look with an entirely flat reaction, except for the dry ice burn of his eyes from beneath the shadow created by his heavy brow, but she remains unfazed by him and sighs. “Well, to be honest, it was Sam who asked me to marry her.”

“Huh…” He takes another sip of his drink and swallows heavily, feeling it stick in his throat. “Wasn’t expectin’ tha’.”

“She was insistent about it too. Sat me down at one of the tables at her restaurant, made me my favorite meal that wasn’t on the menu, and then got down on one knee. Couldn’t say no to that. She knows the way to my heart. Just… keep it simple.”

“Yeah, don't want to do somethin’ over the top. Romcom shite aint my thing, and Rory wouldn't want to be Love Actually'd. Not her style either.”

“You know her better than anyone else. Just ask her.”

“Just ask her?" He questions, brows lifting comically as he scoffs at the mockery of a command. "Easier said than done. Need to make sure it's right for her.”

“You're making it harder than it needs to be.”

“Maybe I am. Only fittin’ though, considerin’ that's how she was before we got caught up in all this together.”

A low hum purrs in Laswell's throat. “Smart woman.”

John's eyes flashed dangerously at the jab. “Still got ‘er though, didn’ I?”

“Smart woman with a soft spot that you take full advantage of.”

Across the bar, Rory turns, looking at him from over the rim of her glass as she takes a drink, smiling as she swallows. Her eyes glimmer like large reflecting pools, the light sparkling in their dazzling depths the color of the finest whiskey and oak leaves in summer. Unlike his that seem bottomless, a yawning chasm like the Marianas Trench that grows deeper and darker the farther one goes, her gaze is bewitching, a doorway into a heart that needs to be gently cradled and a mind that needs to be tenderly stroked and reminded that there are those worth relying on (even if he doesn’t always merit that honor, but fuck if he doesn’t try).

“And who could bloody blame me?” He murmurs, not taking his eyes off his pretty Lieutenant, having a wordless conversation just through the way they exchange glances.

Huffing out a quiet laugh, Laswell pushes her glass of melted ice to the side. “She knows you're up to something.”

“She always does.”

COD taglist [opt in/out] (no pressure to interact): @aceghosts @silkcrows @devil-kindred @taciturntraveller @sukoshimikan @voltac @thedeadthree @voidika @chadillacboseman @efingart @alypink @roofgeese @g0dspeeed @simplegenius042 @strangefable @direwombat @la-grosse-patate @josephseedismyfather @statichvm @clicheantagonist @tommyarashikage @inafieldofdaisies @raresvtm @cloudofbutterflies92 @justasmolbard @finding-comfort-in-rain @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa

[yinemw]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚

context: letters shared between villain dabi and pro-hero reader. (The parts that are marked like this mean they are marked off and unreadable to the receiver)

warnings: angst, swearing and Dabi talking about dying

character: Dabi/Touya Todoroki from mha

m.list

To Dabi

I know I’m the last person you probably want to hear from right now, considering all things. But I didn’t know, I mean how could I. You never told me he is your father. You rushed away so fast after our last meeting and you blocked my number. I thought writing you a letter would be better, to explain my side and hope that I’ll find Toga and get her to deliver this to you.

I care for you Dabi, whether you believe me or not it’s up to you, but I really do care. Why else would I let you crash at my place, eat my food and…just talk. You trusted me with your number and I trusted you with mine, and despite everything, those late night phone calls we shared mean the world to me. For a second I felt normal, didn’t have to think about heros or villains or my work, it was just you and me.

You never told me who you are, who you really are. And it was enough to just know you as Dabi, as the villain I stumbled upon all bloody and weak in an alley way one night, brought back home and ‘healed’ back to health. It was obvious your real name wasn’t Dabi, or that you were born with your scars and burnt skin, so I was always curious about your past. Your secrets. I didn’t think finding out who you really are would be the end of our relationship friendship. The way you reacted when I said your real name…I’ve never seen that look before and I knew I had messed up. I’m sorry Dabi, for snooping in your past. I broke our promise, but I hope you can forgive me.

From…Y/n you know who

Stupid hero, sending a letter like we’re back in the 70s. Blocked your number for a reason, and there you go finding another way to contact me. Surprised you couldn’t find where I’m staying despite knowing everything else about me. Cute of you to not include my real name in your letter, scared it might have ended up in someone else’s hands and my identity is out to the public? Don’t be, I’m gonna reveal my identity soon enough. Make my father know exactly who I am.

You’re really quite something I have to admit, having found out who I am. Was it Hawks who helped you? Or maybe I underestimated you, you’re a pro hero after all, even if the whole system is a joke. I am curious though, you say you care about me, yet you continue to work with my father. Funny really, don’t you think?

Doesn’t matter, I’m done with you. Was nice not starving and have a roof over my head, but that’s all it was. I’d start training harder, hero, you have no idea what’s coming.

To Touya

Thank you for writing back, it was unexpected to see your letter on my pillow. I wish you would have stayed so we could have talked in person, but I’ll respect your space.

I didn’t know you were planning on going public with your identity. I have to admit, the entire idea does sound alarming and your ‘warning’ is, not ideal to say the least. We always talked about what we would do when the day comes that we stand on opposite sides of the battle field, and by the sound of it, that day is coming faster then I thought.

You’re right, it does sound ridiculous when I say I love care about you, and continue to work with your father. I simply haven’t been able to come so far yet, I’m not entirely sure where my career is heading. I’ve gotten so used to working with Endeavor and Hawks, been in their shadow in a way, but always there. Helping civilians to safety and using my quirk to help as best as I can, they’re my safety net, I guess. You’re right, continuing to work with him is a mistake. But you have to understand Touya, it’s more complicating than just ‘stop working with him’. I’ll figure it out, I promise, please just give me time.

(P.s next time you come over, please feel free to take as much food as you need and blankets/pillows if you need)

From Y/n

Publicly going solo, huh? Have to say, was kinda hot seeing you on TV saying how you’re an independent hero now, not working with others. Got everyone shocked to say the least, all eyes on you. Been telling you since the beginning you’re better than all those other stupid hero’s, don’t know why you’ve been hiding in their shadows.

You’re one tough cookie to crack, and I have to admit, thinking about fighting you isn’t exactly…fun. Your quirk is annoying and to be honest, I’m not even sure which one of us would win. But you’re not my main focus, so do me a favor, stay out of this fight, yeah?

P.s the pasta you made could have used less salt, just sayin

To Touya

Your notes are so short Touya, and you still won’t see me in person, please, I need to see you. I seriously can’t take this anymore, us tip-toeing around our…well whatever we are. You’re even harder to read through your scribbles and wrinkled paper you leave on my pillow. I hate to confess through a letter, especially during times like these when the entire country is anxious. But I feel like I’m losing you, for real this time.

Touya I love like you, more than a friend. It became so much more than just a ‘hero-villain friendship’. You become apart of my life, apart of my routine. I would wait everyday by my window, just to see if you would come by and sneak into my apartment. I would make your favorite meals, just in case you came by and were hungry. My life was finally exciting, I was looking forward to something, to just see or hear you. You weren’t just a broken villain to me Touya, you were everything.

I wish you would have told me about your plans, I wish you would have told me everything about you. And I know that’s a selfish thought, but the whispers in the hero community are starting to freak me out. Touya you have no idea what you’re up against, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to save you this time.

Please, come back to me.

From Y/n

So the hero fell for the villain, huh? Typical, feels like some cheesy trope from a movie. I would go as far as to call you pathetic, the way you talk about me. You have so much to live for, yet seeing me excited you. Must have been one boring life you lived before me.

Doesn’t matter, nothing you say will change my mind. It’s not about you, believe it or not. Was never about you. You fucked me up, real good in fact. Postponed all my damn plans. Nights I was supposed to spend with the league, I couldn’t help myself but to spend with you, do you know how much trouble I got into? Not that I cared, spending time with you wasn’t exactly bad.

I still remember your shocked face when you started to see my white roots, how you bought black hair dye and helped me dye my hair whenever I needed. Or the way you looked all lovesick whenever I enjoyed your cooking. Even the first night I slept in your damn bed and voluntarily cuddled up to you, I could hear how fast your heart was beating. You seriously think I didn’t know that you like me? Stupid hero. You made it quite obvious, not to mention you got quite touchy too. Not that I minded. But none of it matters, because we can’t be together. Ever. Now stop using Toga as the mailman and leave all of this behind you for good.

To Touya

You finally got what you wanted, for people to know the truth. How does it feel? Satisfied? I guess you’ll only be at peace once Endeavor is dead, so this is just the beginning, am I right?

You held back during our last battle, I could see how angry you were when I showed up to defend Endeavor. I know you’re upset, I know he ruined your life and hurt you in ways I cannot imagine, but murder is not the way. I will not let you kill him.

I don’t know where you went into hiding, but I know you’re injured. Please tell me where you are so I can make sure you’re okay. Please. I love care for you so much I can’t stand this anymore.

From Y/n

I’m sorry. Wow, feels weird even writing it down. I’ll hand you this ‘letter’ myself, before the league attacks. I want you to know, I don’t intend surviving this fight, although if you’re reading this, it means I’m already dead. Not like you’ll have time to read a stupid letter before having to fight to survive lol.

I want you to know that this is the way I want to go. By killing him. My quirk will destroy my body Y/n, and I don’t want you to see that. My body, destroyed and burnt to pieces. I may be a villain, but even I have a heart, and I don’t want your last memory of me to be a corpse. So instead, think of our happy memories. The nights we sat on your roof and smoked, or when you taught me how to meditate and we ended up laughing for hours, or even the time we went to 7-11 undercover so no one would know it’s us and ended up buying those damn good iced coffee’s.

We were never meant to be Y/n, doomed from the start actually. From the moment you decided to save me instead of turning me in to the police and putting me behind bars. You’re a fool, so stupid. Fuck, I really hate you, you know? I don’t even know what to write, you make me feel all stupid and warm, and then all fucked up and mad because I know next time I see you will most likely be the last.

Fuck, I love you. And I know you’re not where I am, you may like some part of me and care for me, but I know someone like you could never love me. But it’s better this way, hurts less. Can’t believe it hurts at all, thought I was numb until I met you. But I love you, I really fucking love you.

P.s I left my phone at your apartment, it’s under your pillow. You know the passcode. There’s a bunch of crap on it, mostly pictures and videos of us or whatever.

Love, Touya

[dxmedstudent]

Things to not say to infertile folks:

A lot of people don't really know what to say when discussing infertility, and a lot of people who are struggling with it complain that people say hurtful or triggering things to them - often unintentionally.

So I thought I'd write a guide about what not to say, taken , unfortunatelyfrom hearing or seeing people express these opinions:

You just need to relax/get drunk/go on holiday/not stress so much/not want it so much.

Telling someone to be more relaxed or less stressed doesn't work - kind of like telling someone to calm them down doesn't, in fact, calm them down. It also minimises the fact that a lot of people with fertility problems have actual medical problems causing the situation, which may require treatment or might even be untreatable.

It also comes with the (likely unintentional) implication that it's your fault for not conceiving because unlike everyone else, you're just not relaxing enough. You fail at relaxing. You're doing trying wrong.

So you can't have kids? Like, at all?

Putting aside that it is a little insensitive to say this, technically infertility means that a couple tried to have kids for a year or more but were unsuccessful. Infertility is reduced fertility, and sometimes the term subfertity is seen as more accurate.

People can be told that they have a condition that affects fertility like fibroids, PCOS or endometriosis, but they may still conceive if having unprotected PIV sex and should still use contraception if they do not wish to get pregnant.

This is also why folks on T and folks on oestrogen/progesterone HRT should talk to their team about contraception, whether they are cis or trans. Whilst taking HRT can sometimes reduce fertility it does NOT render you sterile and people often need to use an additional contraceptive.

Sterility means being completely unable to have kids - for example, if you have had both gonads removed.

Infertile couples can sometimes eventually have children unassisted, and most infertile couples manage to conceive with fertility treatment.

Have you tried having sex/tracking ovulation/insert absolutely beginner knowledge here)?

Oh crap, we've been mistakenly putting it up the ass this entire time! Silly me!

Unless you're the couple's doctor and your job is to walk them through every possible issue and make sure nothing is missed, please assume that they have done their research and have the basic stuff down.  Treat people as if they are sensible and competent. Believe people when they say there is a problem. Leave the diagnosing to their fertility team.

Because when you think about it, if a couple have been trying for like 3 years and you ask them if they've tried LH strips, it's kind of patronising.

You didn't become an expert just because you accidentally got pregnant 5 years ago or conceived first try with your second. People who have been struggling with a health problem for years have usually done a ton of reading, speaking to healthcare professionals and lots of tests - they almost certainly know a lot more than you about it.

Oh yeah, I know how you feel! I've been trying for 2 months / hope to have kids and I'm terrified of being infertile, I couldn't stand that. It would ruin my life!

There's a place for sharing your concerns, but please don't expect people suffering a condition to have to console you about how bad it would be for you to live their life. Infertile people don't want to hear that their life is your worst nightmare, it's just a rude thing to tell someone.

Don't tell people with coeliac you'd die if you couldn't eat pasta, don't tell people who are blind that you'd end yourself if you couldn't paint or watch TV. Just ... have some tact.

Ha, being a parent is hard, are you sure you want that? Would you take one of mine?

No, Debra.

Please stop making light of someone's personal grief or disability. This is like making boomer "I hate my wife" jokes to someone who just lost their spouse.

But what do I say, then? I don't know what to say!

I've legitimately seen people say the most insensitive thinfs and then turn around to say this.

But...

You don't have to say anything- believe it or not you don't have to offer an opinion or advice on sonething you know nothing about. They aren't waiting on YOU to fix their problem or give them advice on something a team of specialists hasn't been able to fix.

If someone tells you that they are having fertility issues, just tell them you're sorry to hear that and that you hope it works for them soon. Or ask them if they want to talk about it and let them know you are there to listen.

More things not to say after the cut...

My friend's aunt's cousin was about to have infertility treatment, then they just had twins! I'm sure that will happen for you, when you stop trying!

Everyone tells us their one in a million "miracle stories"... but they just aren't fun to hear, for many people with infertility. They may give some people hope, but they can make people feel even more isolated and unlucky because we KNOW how unlikely it is that we'll have that same luck.

Also for most of us, stopping trying would make actually conceiving and carrying to term extremely unlikely. Please don't discourage people from seeking medical help when they need it.

Well I don't think IVF/using a donor/single parent families/lgbtq families is right/natural.

It's great that you don't need it and don't have to have it, then! But your opinion is kind of irrelevant to everyone else.

Lots of modern medicine isn't natural - and as a doctor, I REALLY don't think "naturalness" or your personal comfort level with a treatment you are completely ignorant about is a relevant metric for how beneficial a medical treatment is to the people who need it. 

We've spent all of human civilisation working to give us more tools (and better ones) to help people. IVF is a tool. It's an accommodation for a disability or inability due to circumstances that lets some people overcome their medical conditions or circumstances.

Are you saying that to cancer patients? To people wearing a cast for their broken arm? To people wearing a prosthesis for their amputated leg? I absolutely hope not. Please do not do that.

Other people's medical treatments are between them and their clinicians. If you don't like it? You're free to not have said treatment. If you don't want kids, you are free to not have any. I'm a passionate advocate for access to reproductive care, contraception and abortion.

But if you're pro abortion, you cannot meaningfully be anti-fertility treatment. Because you either believe in bodily autonomy or you don't. You can't pick and choose only when it benefits you.

I just think that if you can't have kids naturally, then your body/nother nature/God is telling you something and you should just stop trying. Maybe your genes are just bad and shouldn't be spread. Maybe you just wouldn't make a great parent.

Look, nature is stupid. It gives kids type 1 diabetes and genetic conditions that kill them in infancy and gives your loved ones cancer. Do you go around telling everyone that they should just due or accept being permanently seriously ill or disabled because nature gave them an illness? Do you refuse all modern medicine because you should be listening to nature's plan for your body? I bloody well hope not, because that's dumb when modern medicine exists.

There are all sorts of dumb reasons why people are infertile - why would having a tube blocked by endometriosis or slow sperm make someone a bad parent? Why are you literally telling someone to their face, whose meducal problems you dont even understand, that you think they are just too defective to make a family?

Let's stay away from the eugenics, shall we? We could have a nuanced conversation about how genetic testing of embryos can potentially reduce or eliminate rare fatal diseases which kill children and have no hope of a life without significant suffering. And how most couples who have IVF successfully go on to have healthy chikdren who live normal lives. But no, Steve, stopping your mate with a mild varicocele from having children is not going to revolutionise the human race or fulfil some alternate divine fate.

Well, fertility is a first world problem, some people have real problems, we should be focusing on that instead.

Actually, it's a problem for millions of peole, around the world. The IVF industry is huge in certain parts of the Global south, for example India.

People think it's a white rich people problem because most of the people who can  afford to undergo fertility treatment privately or adopt...are the wealthy. But it's always been a problem - that affects people across cultures, socioeconomic groups and sexualities. And infertility has often been accompanied with shame and ostracisation. Stigmatising fertility care hurts everyone. Especially the poor.

Many LGBTQ couples need fertility care - whether because their gender affirming surgery or HRT or health complicates things, or they and their partner's combination of gametes makes things tricky. Making fertility care less taboo and more accessible helps them too. The conversation very often side tracks and ignores them but their struggle is valid too.

You people only want kids because they are brainwashed by the patriarchy. Infertility wouldn't be an issue if women were emancipated and not brainwashed by the patriarchy.

Look, I've been feminist in online spaces since before some of you were born. I'm not unaware of the patriarchy and how it colours our choices.

But we have to stop infantilising women abd removing their agency. I know single women and lesbians who have spent decades working through their issues with the patriarchy...who still want kids and are dealing with fertility treatment. Sure, we will never be entirely free from the many ways society affects us. But that doesn't mean we're all blindly falling into motherhood.

You don't want kids, that's great. But it doesn't mean that every single woman choosing to have them is brainwashed and unable to understand what she is getting into - and it's pretty misogynistic to frame it that way.

Nobody should be having kids because the economy/environment/etc

OK there's a conversation to be had about cutting our carbon footprint and being aware of how our choices affect others and the planet. We should all be trying to live more sustainably - I say as I wear thrifted clothes whilst typing this on the train.

But... are you saying that to able bodied people having kids? Are you sacrificing everything that you want for the cause? Or is the easiest thing to give up the thing that someone else wants? I'm all for encouraging everyone to be mindful of the planet but we shouldn't be restricting the rights of people with a disability to make that happen.

We make choices for ourselves, not for other people.

Why not adopt or foster? Adopt don't shop!

Well this is a whole post in itself...but basically, please assume that anyone who is trying for kids for a while... has at least considered adoption. Please tryst people to choose the right option for them and their family.

Children are not puppies, and the massive adoption industry isn't always ethical or safe, can be hugely expensive (often moreso than IVF in some places!), and also doesn't actually guarantee that they get to have a child at the end of it.

There can be a lot of trauma and complicated feelings for the adopted child and their birth family and many kids need very specialised support that not every potential adoptive parent can provide.

There are also far more infertile couples than kids who need adoption - so not every individualor couple could adopt. Many kids just need temporary fostering with the aim of placing them back with their family, which is important but very different.

I intend to flesh out this argument more in a separate post but IMO adoption should ideally be rare - because birth parents should have free access to contraception, abortion and be empowered and supported to look after and raise their kids within their communities if they want them. Adoption should serve the needs of the child, not the potential parents. And certainly not the agencies.

If you truly believe there are millions of kids out there needing a home, why aren't you adopting? Why aren't you clamouring for every fertile couples to adopt? Because on some level society still that's these kids as a consolation prize. And because many of the people judging infertile couples for having IVF over adoption aren't all that invested in actially learning about these kids or helping them.

Infertile people aren't solely responsible for solving complex societal problems on their own. This is something that we as a whole society need to address.

[lyonnns]

A tired grin hovered on Jenna’s lips as she heard the husk of Cate’s voice; there was comfort in it. She let her fingers trail over the ones caressing her arm. “kinda reminds me exactly why I don’t usually mix drinks,” she lightly joked, her gaze semi-defeated but never moving her attention away. Jenna bit her lip and sat up against the headboard, the sheet slipping slightly from her shoulder. Despite the shift, their closeness remained intact.

She didn’t know whether to be saddened by the sheer idea that the blonde had an inkling she’d wake up in an empty bed, wake up to the fear that Jenna had left. “Hey—” Jenna’s brows furrowed as she reached out, her hand landing over Cate’s lap in a gesture of comfort. She knew that despite leaving reassurance, it never entirely registered. “I just needed to let us both think straight—something I know neither of us could’ve done last night had i not given you the space. But not for a second was I ever not going to come back.” as her frown still remained, she let the sighing breath ease her hand away as she moved up from the edge of the bed and over by the coffee machine Jenna pushed back the covers, stretching before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m making us both coffee first, okay?” she said, her tone light, but the undercurrent of exhaustion still lingered. “Normally, I’d rather drink tap water than hotel coffee, but even I have to humble myself sometimes.” She hummed, glancing over her shoulder at Cate, her expression soft and reassuring. A few minutes later, Jenna returned across the room, moving toward the bed with two mugs in hand. She handed one to Cate, offering a small, reassuring smile. “le voici, bébé,” she murmured, pressing her lips together before settling back against the headboard, legs folded beneath her. Jenna exhaled softly, keeping a firm grip on her cup as she blew on the surface before taking a sip. “So—before you say anything, I want you to just listen,” she said, her tone steady but gentle. “I spent a lot of time thinking about this last night—about everything. And I think it’s best if you hear me out first." taking a beat, her face fell toward's the other woman She paused, gripping her cup a little tighter.

“I was hurt, Cate—I didn’t understand why I reacted the way I did at first. But then it dawned on me… it wasn’t that I thought you were putting responsibility on me. I know this is your decision, something i imagine you’ve wanted for a long time by the sounds of it . And I respect that. But the way it came out last night—it felt like an afterthought, like something casually thrown into the air instead of something we could actually talk about. It made me wonder where I fit into all of this.” She took a slow breath, her gaze steady now. “Because if this is going to work, Cate, I need to feel like I matter in your life—not just when it’s convenient, but in the moments that truly shape it.” It was known that Jenna disliked confrontations of any sort, but this didn’t entirely feel like she was comforting the blonde. It felt like she was placing her heart right in front of her — showing her that vulnerability didn’t have to be a risk, that it could still come with safety. "so, then I wondered between all that... how would I have reacted had you told me without the tension, or the liquid courage? Would I have still been shocked? Confused? Of course. But I imagine it would’ve been different. It would’ve just taken listening—listening to your reasoning, knowing a lot of this was already in process… I imagine, before we were officially a thing? I know adoptions don’t just happen overnight —— But not for one second would I ever make you choose. That wouldn’t even cross my mind. But I know you, and I know why that worry line between your brows is there.” Jenna’s tone lightened as she pointed it out, offering a small, knowing smile. "You and I, we're in this very fortunate position in life where I know the idea of you bringing this little girl into your life is something you want deeply, knowing you can. But you know, despite the unfortunate way I had to find out, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, and I'm staying. And don't think for a second you're not allowed to ask me for help, 'cause newsflash, babe, I'm helping anyway." She reached toward Cate’s free hand, giving it a firm squeeze.As her other hand held the coffee she'd been sipping on, Jenna eventually placed it down on the dresser. "Now... say what you wish, but know I really want to know more about this. I want to know when, and I want to know every detail about this major part of your life."

Cate stirred slowly, the edges of sleep peeling away as the soft husk of Jenna’s voice pulled her back to consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting Jenna’s gaze in the muted morning light filtering through the curtains. For a brief moment, she wasn’t sure where she was—the weight of the night before still lingered like a thick fog. Then she felt the warmth of Jenna’s body beside her, the gentle press of her hand against her cheek, and the pieces clicked into place. Her heart gave a unsteady lurch, caught between relief and the echoes of last night’s fear. “Hi…” Cate echoed, her voice a cracked whisper, rough from sleep and the emotional wreckage she’d carried into the early hours. She blinked slowly, her blue eyes adjusting to the sight of Jenna’s face—tired, yes, but softer than she’d feared, with a trace of that familiar warmth. Her head throbbed, but it was the ache in her chest that felt louder. She shifted slightly, her hand still resting over Jenna’s arm, unwilling to let go of the contact that had anchored her through the night. “The head.. it could be worst” she admitted with a small smile, her fingers tightening just a fraction against Jenna’s skin. She searched her girlfriend’s eyes, trying to break the distance between them— “Yours?” she asked, her tone soft. She didn’t dare dive deeper yet, didn’t trust herself to navigate the raw edges of their last conversation without shattering everything again. But she needed to hear Jenna’s voice, needed to know they could still reach each other, even if it was just through these small, careful steps.

Cate propped herself up slightly, wincing as the movement sent a faint pulse through her temples. The room was quiet, and she let her gaze linger on Jenna—the tousled hair, the faint shadows under her eyes, the way she looked both exhausted and impossibly present. “I… I didn’t think you’d still be here when I woke up,” she confessed, her voice barely above a breath, the vulnerability slipping out before she could catch it. Her free hand moved to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture as she waited, her heart suspended in the space between Jenna’s silence and whatever might come next.

[im-tired1124]

Together forever, they’re Frankie and Vector!

✨Best Friends✨

[logicpng]

at the risk of veering entirely off-canon, i had to at least try to put on paper that concept of dealer being a retired grim reaper (out of potentially many)

since god is dead, i like to think that nothing works anymore, making him out of a job.

i think the game isn't too far off from the position as a death entity, if that makes sense. same shit, different tools, only the unfortunate souls come willingly

[bitchfitch]

I've started playing Potion Permit, and so far it's one of my favorite games I've messed around with, but the most big brained move the devs made was giving you a dog on day 1, and then making that dog able to track NPCs and lead you directly to them no matter where they are in the town.

[alxclaremont]

there are two wolves inside of you: one feels impending doom at the thought of tomorrow’s race. the other feels immensely hopeful that oscar will get his first win tomorrow or at the very least a mclaren 1-2. you are a formula one fan.

[supercantaloupe]

my roommate made a joke tonight about my sex life when i mentioned that i needed to go to the pharmacy to pick up my birth control tomorrow and like. it wasn't offensive but it was kind of fucking weird

[abyssal-luka]

that reminds me, have you ever seen how weird they got about stimboards on tiktok? fucking wild

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[tonycries]

Sweetheart Online - G.S.

Synopsis. Isekai-ed into another world, or isekai-ed into your pants?! Gojo Satoru is in danger - in danger of losing his prized, otaku vírginíty, that is.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, otaku! Gojo, isekai, vírgínity loss (Gojo), chokíng, use of “ma’am”, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, begging, nerdy babbling, Gojo wears glasses, cúmming dry, first times, oraI (f + m), face-sítting, cúmming early, spítting, creampíes, cúmplay, p talking, cúmming in his pants, he goes féral, otaku vocab, truck-kun, anime nosebIeeds, Gojo is a LOSER, and so down bad for you, pet names, swearíng.

Word count. 8.8k

A/N. IT’S HEREEEEE-

“Har har. hilarious, Suguru-”

“You know m’not joking, Satoru.” Geto’s taking an infuriatingly long slurp! of his ramen from the other end of the line, and Gojo’s known the man long enough to realize that he’s doing it solely to irritate him. That bastard. “You’re a loser.”

Ah, he’s never wanted to throttle him more. 

Because- listen, Gojo Satoru might be many things. 

He might be the proud president of the campus otaku club, rumored to have never even held hands with a woman his entire life. Complete defamation, of course, Gojo has held hands with his mother as a child. Though…she might be the only one. 

He might be the most annoying tenant at his cramped Tokyo apartment, every inch of it covered with enough of your pretty figurines that he’s taken to sleeping on the couch recently. But you deserved only the best!

And he might currently be the sketchiest man trudging down the streets of Shibuya at 3AM; with a brand-spanking new, life-sized body pillow of you tucked safely underneath one arm.

But that didn’t mean Gojo was a loser. Probably. 

So what if he got strange looks from every unfortunate normie soul he happened to pass? It was limited edition, and he waited eight hours in line for it!

After all, a man with such a prized possession could surely and undoubtedly never be a-

“-oi- oi!” Self-proclaimed best friend, and universally-proclaimed pain in Gojo’s ass grumbles into the phone. 

Snapping out of his reverie, Gojo’s registering that he’s already at that familiar flickering stoplight. Fingers curling even tighter in their tender hold around your form, he saunters down the barren crossing. 

He needed to get home - and he needed to get home fast! A man needs quality time with his wife, after all. 

“Don’t tell me you fainted from her ah- what was it- ‘sheer beauty and unparalleled sex appeal’ again?”

“That was one time and you know it.” He’s hissing into the speaker- honestly, Geto’s probably just cranky that he didn’t get his grubby hands on one of these before he did - Gojo’s seen the other man’s plushie collection of you no matter how much he tries to hide it. “This time, I only got weak in the knees.”

There’s a snickering drawl, “Oh yeah? What wondrous self-control, o’ maestro of virgins.”

And the title is so utterly ridiculous that Gojo finds himself stuttering into a shocked stop right in the middle of the gloomy asphalt. A laugh bubbling up in his throat before he remembers that that particularly sweet nickname was directed at him. 

“You’re a virgin too!”

Scoffing, “Yeah, but I don’t act like it. You, on the other hand, are famed for having your first kiss with the common room tv the moment you first saw that video game character. People were making bets on whether you were going to die a virgin, Satoru. Hell- I bet, too!”

Dammit, when you put it like that it makes Geto sound downright respectable. 

“Actually, she’s more than a video game character, Sugu—” Times like this, he’s letting his words simper out into a whine. Full and well knowing how much it’ll grate against Geto’s eardrums - hah, take that ramen ASMR! Smugly, Gojo pushes up his thickly-rimmed glasses, “She’s the revered princess of a distant land, first in line to rule over the throne with a gentle yet firm hand. Scouring the seas for the perfect consort that will-”

“Are you quoting her Wikipedia-”

“I wrote her Wikipedia.” Gojo huffs indignantly, as if anyone could ever assume anything less. “Because to me, she’s- she’s…”

And, truly, nothing he recited with MLA citations could ever describe you.

Because if there’s one thing that Geto was right about, it’s the fact that Gojo’s been completely and utterly head-over-heels for you ever since he first glimpsed an ad for Sweetheart Online - the hottest, filthiest romance game to hit the industry in the last few years. Maybe ever. 

With one love interest - as if he needed any other - you, and your hand in marriage that Gojo had fought rival after unworthy rival to win 143 times already.

He finds himself wracking his brain for any word in the existing lexicon to describe the perfection that is you. Though, it seems that he doesn’t have to think too hard at all. 

Because before he can even imagine letting the first few syllables formulate on his tongue, there’s a deafening-

HONK!

Gojo turns, only to see the glaringly white headlights of a truck hurtling towards him at full-speed. 

And the first thing he thinks is oh, it kind of looks like the spotlight that dazzles on you 1 minute and 24 seconds into the game’s Coronation Event. The second thing he thinks is…fuck.

.

.

.

“-highness—looks rabid!”

“—that’s rude, but…”

“-oh dear, put your sword down, Itadori.”

Gojo takes a few bleary seconds to pat himself mentally on the back for deducing that he’s died and made his way to heaven. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what Yaga says - he really is a genius sometimes.

What else could the delicate paintings of cupids and clouds on the staggeringly tall ceiling abovehead mean? He didn’t think that the heavens above had a fancy for Baroque - but who was he to judge? 

Certainly not when it seemed like he was sprawled out on a painfully decadent bed. Sifting among layers and layers of delicate silk that almost swallowed him whole - oh, it was fit enough for his figurine collection of you. 

A sharp crick shoots along Gojo’s neck when he turns his eyes towards what seemed like a towering window, wincing at the large glowing ball of light washing warmly over him. If he squinted his eyes it almost looked like…the sun?

Surely, he wasn’t a ghost then.

It hadn’t even been daybreak once that semi-truck had run him over, and even if he was to haunt anyone then it would be to bug Geto into plastering his collection of your posters all over his gravestone. 

And the final piece of celestial evidence being a soft, soothing tone ringing in his ears and already becoming his favorite new song. Coming from the mouth of an angel peering down at him who looked - lo and behold - like your very spitting image. 

“Oh…” It comes out in a hoarse, scratchy gasp. All the air knocking out of his poor lungs once you inch in mere centimeters closer to his glassy view. He can’t help but reach up a trembly hand, “You’re even more beautiful in 3D.”

SMACK!

Gojo flinches when his hand gets knocked away unceremoniously by someone else’s- there were other people here? “You dare attempt to touch the princess? After revealing yourself in her chambers? I should call the guards right now-”

Now, he didn’t know much about the afterlife, but he was sure that demons weren’t allowed in heaven.

“It’s quite alright, Nobara.” The angel speaks up, and oh, it’s not even his name being said but Gojo already feels his heart leap a little and suddenly wishes it was. “Judging by the state of his clothes it seems he’s not from these parts. Maybe he’s lost?”

Gentle hands are suddenly bestowed upon his to softly pull him up, and before he can open his mouth to undoubtedly blurt out something stupid, there’s a ringing PING!

Jumping just about a foot off the bed, he’s scrambling to stand as a strangely robotic voice speaks from somewhere overhead, “Milestone: Touch a Girl reached. System activation successful! Congratulations, user [Satorulovesprincess]. Welcome to Sweetheart Online.”

If the group in front of him heard anything, then they didn’t show a sign. 

Very much the opposite of a thoroughly panicked Gojo, flailing his head towards the source of the noise until his eyes meet a holographic screen hovering just a few inches over his head.

As if something pulled right out of one of Geto’s favorite trashy sci-fi films - fuck being in heaven, he was probably still on those Shibuya streets hallucinating and causing an incident.. 

Gojo treks down a hand to pinch his forearm, just a little harder than necessary when the voice booms once more-

“Quite ingenious, user [Satorulovesprincess]. However, we assure you that what you are seeing is real.” The screen displays those exact words in time. “You have initiated the execution of the system, and are now bound to Sweetheart Online.”

“System- Sweetheart Online-” Great, he’s going mad. Running his hands through tousled locks of cloudy white, “Don’t tell me…don’t tell me this is like one of those shitty isekai anime.”

Oh god it all made sense - the truck, the system, the truck. And Gojo’s watched much more than enough cliché isekai anime with the otaku club to realize. 

But…a truck? Seriously? That’s embarrassingly overused. 

It’s like a pit of ice forms at the bottom of his stomach. He bet that no one but him could see the glaring screen right now. A fact he was especially glad for once the following words roll out-

“Following your sudden and extremely inexperienced death, Mission: No-Longer-Virgin has already started.”

Whispering to himself, “So this is where virgins go after death. Some sort of purgatory perhaps in which the last wishes of the virgin are materialized- although that doesn’t explain the presence of- wait-”

“Good luck, user: [Satorulovesprincess]. May your virginity collapse, and your sex life prosper!”

If Gojo didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn that the disjointed voice sounded amused. 

But wait- no, it wanted Gojo to lose his virginity? His long-held, precious, maiden virginity? After twenty-something years, how crude that this ah- mission marrs his delicate body. Did the system think that he was some sort of harlot to-

“Are…are you okay, strange sir?”

Okay, maybe losing his virginity wasn’t all that bad.

Turning back around slowly, “I uh…”

And this wasn’t quite how Gojo imagined meeting you - glasses askew, hair rumpled, in the very same ratty hoodie and sweatpants he’d camped outside the anime store in - hell, he never thought he’d meet you in general. 

But then you smile, and Gojo falls onto his knees. Right then and there on the polished floor.

You were exactly as he’d seen on-screen. Brows quirking upwards just a slight cheeky degree the same way it did whenever his in-game avatar said something particularly smooth. Gorgeous. The silken skirts of your ball gown looking oh-so-soft to the touch but not as soft as you-

“Your highness, on top of being a madman, he drools at the sight of you!” A younger girl shrieks - Nobara Kugisaki, your trusty attendant, he remembers. Hastily wiping his lips, “Kindly consider having his skull impaled.”

There was nothing kindly about having his skull impaled, and Gojo’s already clutching his head when you chuckle. “Your name?”

Ah, he’s forgotten how to speak. Forgotten how to breathe. “G-Gojo Satoru- my princess- your highness.”

“Apologies, I’m not sure what foreign ambassador you are, but I do welcome you kindly to our kingdom.” You’re letting your eyes roam all over his still-kneeled body, and in them glittered something…dark. 

Sliding over your hand and oh! Gojo remembers this.

He’s drinking in that delicate floral scent of yours, dragging his plump mouth to meet the back of your hand in a lingering kiss. The very moment his lips touch you, Gojo feels lightheaded.

And only after pulling away does he realize exactly why-

“Ah! He’s bleeding!” The young man - your loyal knight, Itadori - yelps, and Gojo’s clapping over the warm wetness smearing over his lower face. A nosebleed? Really? Just from kissing your hand? God, Geto was right - he really is a loser. “Should I call the healers, your highness?”

“No we have him drawn and quartered for such an unseemly display-”

“Nobara, that’s quite alright.” You’re waving off, smooth marble floors resonating out sharp clacks! when you walk even closer. Close. Too close. Until you’re seated on the edge of the bed, “After all, it is my consort choosing ceremony. Isn’t that what you’re here for, Satoru?”

Gojo thinks he could faint at the way you say his name - and he almost does. 

Scrambling towards you, he’s fully kneeling at your feet now. You’re so beautiful - so real - that pearly beads of tears dot his fluttering lashes. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

He swears he hears you mumble cute under your breath. Now he could really faint–

“Oh? And I intend on fulfilling the wishes of my guest.” Speaking somewhere over his shoulder, “You two are dismissed. Lock the doors.”

Kugisaki is, unsurprisingly, the one to protest. “But- but, your highness he’s-” And, honestly, Gojo can recognize the raw expression of what the fuck in her voice. He doesn’t blame her one bit. Not when you tip his head up further to face yours and his nose twitches like he’s about to start nosebleeding all over again. “...pathetic.”

Ouch. Gojo was on the verge of spoiling the ending to her character’s backstory when you’re humming. “I like them pathetic, Nobara.” 

Did he mention you were an angel?

“So…” You’re luring him in, and just that heady lilt of your voice already makes his cottony grey sweatpants tight. Shit- wasn’t this the type of situation that he wrote secret fanfics about?

Barely hearing the creaky SLAM! of the double doors to your royal chamber. Clouded pants waft over your satisfied features, he’s peeking up at you over his large spectacles. Lolling closer and closer-

Mumbling, “Yes, my prin- oh!”

Gojo’s pouted strawberry-pink lips wobble cutely when the golden points of your heel dig into the fleshy mound of his thigh. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, “Y-your highness?”

“What’s this about a-” Watery eyes widening wordlessly when you’re sliding it all the way up, up, up along the shockingly curvaceous muscles to press right down on the straining inches of his fattened cock. Needy. Bulging. “-virginity loss mission-” Hard. “-Satoru?”

And Gojo doesn’t know what comes first - that sharp inhale at the realization, or him.

Fist flying up for him to sink his pretty pearly whites into when he’s biting back a whimper and cumming.

You could feel the way that Gojo’s sloppy mushroom tip was just bawling with every lazy grind up and down his sappy slit. 

Milking out the thick, goopy ribbons being sprinkled from his rounded mushroom tip. Volumes upon volumes. So much of it. That warm texture clinging against the flats of your shoe and puddling out mushy dark splotches into his sweatpants.

Shit. Shit shit shit - cumming just from that. All in front of the woman of his dreams. Part of him almost wants to apologize.

But the way your mouth curls into a sleazy grin makes Gojo’s heart race, every minute action only keeping his achy length even harder. 

He so can’t help himself from grabbing your calves to halt with a few twitchy fingers - only to be going against his own yearnings. Hips humping yours once like a fucking dog as his breath hitches, “You- you know?”

“Awww, of course I know, Toru. I can see the screen.” Fuck- he hopes you can’t feel the wet splat! of another buttery wad of cum being dolloped out generously from his depraved divot. Leaning in, “S’this the first time anyone else has ever made you cum?”

He knew you were teasing - he knew it. But that doesn’t stop Gojo from panting out a strained, “Yes.”

“Hmmm, well-” You’re tapping your chin in thought, despite already having made your decision. But it was just so fun to see this beautiful man shivering and pleading on his knees. “I don’t know where you transmigrated from but…I still am a benevolent ruler, after all.”

He gulps. Cupping one flushed side of his face, Gojo’s practically a steaming hot mess of putty in your hands. “And I can take care of that little virginity business for you.”

Croaking out, “P-please.”

“Hmmm, not good ‘nough.” You’re rovering down even further to press a slight smooch of pressure against his fatly filled-up balls. Thighs squeezing at just how big they were - breeder balls. “Is that how you speak to your princess?”

“No- no no no-” Gojo’s shaking his head so hard that it makes him a little dizzy, or maybe that was the way that you were fisting your determined digits into his faded hoodie. “Please…ma’am.”

“Much better.”

Before he can even blink, he’s being dragged upwards according to your every want and whim. Thrown onto the bouncy king-sized mattress with such strength- of course, he shouldn’t even be surprised. You are the future queen for a reason, after all. 

In fact, he’s never skipped a single cut scene that showed you training your battle skills-

“Now now, don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?” Your voice drifts its way into his melty mind, words so sugary sweet that he could almost taste them. “At least gimme a lil’ kiss now-”

And it’s more than anything he could’ve ever dreamed of.

Muffling back a muted yes, Gojo’s surging upwards to clash his lips into yours. And oh shit, just-now realizing that he’s lost his first ever kiss. 

Then his second. His third. His fourth.

It’s messy. It’s hot. 

Tugging you even closer with a forearm around your waist. Gojo’s sloppy tongue is licking its way past your ravenous entrance, fucked-out bubbles of spittle pop up at the edges of his pursed lips when you’re breaking away-

“N-nooo-” He’s letting off a shuddering whine, chasing after you with a sluttily half-parted maw. “Gimme- wanna ‘nother kiss, princess.”

So greedy. The fat curve of your thumb positions itself on Gojo’s prettily dimpled chin, prying open his dewy lips even further. “Open that mouth f’me, Toru?”

He’s doing exactly what you’re saying before he even realizes it. The glistening muscle of his tongue splayed-out perfectly on display for you - for you to spit out a heavy mass of saliva right onto his pinkish tastebuds. 

Gojo moans at the contact - and you can feel it before he does. The subtle jolt of his weepy cockhead, before your languidly gyrating kneecap is dampened with another wiry slather of cum. Warm and wet. 

“Cumming again?” You coo, eyes darting between the ever-growing pool of a frosted mess between his long legs, and his face. Gojo looked so pretty like this - glasses sliding down his button nose, eyes shuttering with each heaving pant - gasp. Face flushed and slicked with a slight shimmer of sweat, stray locks of white curtain and stick to his reddened forehead. He looked so pretty. “Just from that?”

He’s squirming his depraved hips to smudge a faint glaze of seed down your mounds of flesh, one palm dancing upwards to stop himself from having a nosebleed all over again. “C-can’t help it…The average time of ejaculation for a man is five to seven minutes based on psychological factors and age. And as a healthy young man just because I-”

You’re shutting him up with a kiss, and Gojo almost wonders why more people don’t do this time - that is, until he remembers they’re not you.

“Sounds pretty serious.” You’re nodding, a mask of teasing graveness taking over your face. Swiftly shuffling down the seemingly endless expanse of the bed. Doughy fingerpads delicately hooking onto the hem of his drenched pants, “Better get a taste before you run out, then.”

Gojo lets out such a breathy pant at the implication, “N-no it won’t, considering the volume of the seminal vesicle and- ah!”

Whatever drunken rambling of his is cut very, very short as soon as you tug down those useless sweatpants and let Gojo’s red, painfully angry cock smack! against his abdomen with a wet smear.

He was so…big.

Such girthy, solid inches upon inches that twitched needily right before your very eyes. A rummaging, left-leaning curve being nestled above two pretty pink balls. 

Your mouth waters once you’re curling your fingers dexterously around his plump circumference, making his cerise cockhead waterfall out in another lazy sheen of pre. It’s honestly a bit of a strain to even get your fingertips meeting each other properly with his incredible size, and that just makes you want him more.

Gojo’s knitting his ivory brows nervously, “S-s’it okay?”

It’s more than okay.

And you’re about to show him that.

Cerulean irises crossing together until they were all heart-eyed when a saturated coating of your saliva tops his bloated tip like a layer of icing. Before he feels himself fall in fucking love just at the gummy peck of your mouth onto the rotund ends of his length.

“W-woahhh—” He’s breathing out, eyes locked lecherously right with yours when the steaming hot cavern of your mouth sinks in more and more and more- “This- what- fuuuck-”

And then you’re huffing out a slight chuckle through your nose, hitting his drenched base and making him keen. Slender hips of his lurch the perfect angle off the luxurious bed to bump his mountainous head against the very back of your throat. 

Gasping - begging. 

“You’re seriously gonna…take me?” Prattling through clenched teeth as you grace him with a few more flooding masses of spit. It makes him feel so used. Feel so good. “Like you- you’re gonna put me in your mouth?”

“No.” You’re snickering at the utterly crestfallen look on his face, full mouth downturned, puffed-up tip tinting an even more blasphemous red as if to tempt you. Your fingers tangle with his to claw at the crown of your head, “You’re gonna put yourself in my mouth.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Shit-” Gojo whispers - more to himself than anything. “You can do this- can- can do this- just suck on m’cock-” Rubbing out a translucent lipstain all over your ajar maw before plugging his proud girth inside. “Please- wanna know what it feels…”

Gojo can’t remember what he was saying. What he was thinking. 

Because just a few vulgar sucks of your tenderized mouth around his inflated cock and he’s drunk. Fuck dying by a truck, he was about to die just by this. 

Head lolling all the way back against the poofy pillows, white-hot bliss flashing behind his eyes and- when had he even closed them?

“Wh-why does it feel so–” he’s clenching his jaw, dredging out every single ounce of will in his being to peer at the heavenly - hah- sight below. “-so- good- c-can it feel so good- hngh- please-”

Gojo’s drawing up the hem of his hoodie to cover that brightly blossoming blush. So adorable. He even tasted sweet, like the best of salted caramel that made you infinitely want more. 

Your salacious tongue is repeatedly wetting down his lightning bolted veins. Up and down up and down up and down to draw little hearts on those bumpy lines. 

His sobbing cockhead mushing back into the velveteen walls of your mouth, and Gojo could cum just from the voluptuous curve being outlined into your cheek. He’s finding it almost fucking impossible to grunt out over the raw squelches! emanating from where you were making out with his throbbing cock, “Must be illegal- that’s it! It f-feels so good this must be- ngh- outlawed.”

You’ve rendered him stupid. And he’s so hot and heavy in your mouth, it makes your core stir up to think that you’re the first.

Every choked-up plea only resonates off of the numerous corners of your bedroom even louder once your fingers latch onto the gluttonous curve of his fattened balls. Squeezing-

“S-so dirty- so dirty, princess…” And part of Gojo doesn’t know why he’s letting his traitorous hands wander onto the back of your scalp. Doesn’t know why he’s plunging just a few more inches past your prettily-pouted lips - you were his princess and he was…not treating you like royalty.

The Gojo in this game had always been so smooth. So suave. Taking his sweet, sweet time to hold your hand and talk to you about the politics of your kingdom.

Right now he was curving his thick thighs to flex around your shoulder and feeding you every saccharine inch you could possibly swallow up. “Can you- can you take more? Take this biiiig fuckin’ cock?”

You’re being choked in a locked hold by his powerful legs, and you’ve never been wetter. Practically puddling out a syrupy pond on the sheets underneath you.

Tugging out the thick nub of his thumb to smear those honeyed splatters of his precum at the corners of your mouth, you can only grin as you let your sentence translate into thrumming vibrations. “Mhmm— Settling into it s-so well, aren’t ya, Tooooru?”

“F-fuck!” Gojo’s blushing tip glides shyly down the tight back of your throat, rovering all along each n’ every millimeter of space inside you. It only made your head bob faster to imagine how he would feel down there- “Don’t talk- don’t talk. Please don’t talk s’gonna make me…”

But you.

Oh, Gojo Satoru has read your character profile over 2489 times by now.

He’s memorized every factoid and morsel of knowledge there is to know about you - so of course, he should’ve known. Should’ve realized that babbling away those words would only make your sultry motions increase.

“Cum f’me like a good boy.”

And he does. 

You can only watch in awe when a pearlescent globule of cum gumdrops from his weepy orifice, one. Two. Three. Until Gojo was just drenching the entirety of your mouth with thickly viscous coatings of seed, until you were just drooling with a wadded mess of spittle and seed.

Salty flavor dripping down your tongue and flooding out. So much of it. Too much, Gojo was spurting out the thickest ribbons of creamy white as if he’d never cum before - and doesn’t plan to stop any time soon. 

More, more, more like it was the sound of your voice making him shiver. Making him whine like a zillion volts of electricity was running down his greedy spine. 

The moment you pull away, hefty oodles of cum hit Gojo’s toned abs with a wet splat! And your dear subject is wrangling out his hands towards you like he never wanted to let go.

“No- no! Please- please come back-” Crinkling tears trek their way down his dewy face, sensory pads of his fingers reaching out for you desperately, only for you to part away. “N-need your pretty mouth on me.”

You’re raising a brow, thumbing over his still-crying divot, “But don’tcha want something…else, Satoru?”

“Something- else?” He’s rasping out haltingly, head thoroughly swimming with nothing but you. Your heart glows with pride at the way he can barely form coherent sentences, “What…oh.”

But Gojo gets the idea soon enough when you’re hastily shedding away your outer robes. He fumblingly tries to help, of course, but the simple idea of helping a woman undress is too much for him - and he’s banished to simply watching you, one hand held underneath his nose in case of another…incident. 

Gown and undergarments hitting the floor, your gorgeous legs come to hike up, up, up- driveling mouth falling slack the moment they’re ending up rested on either side of his intoxicated head.

“Oh.” He wheezes intelligently up at your glistening cunt.

“Nothing else ta say?” Your heady purrs only make him blush, nuzzling his feverishly burning cheek against the spattered sheen of slick at your inner thigh. He’s making such a mess on purpose. Making himself a mess. 

“Well-” Gojo bats his long lashes up at you dangerously, clear planes of his glasses digging into the handsome apples of his cheeks. But he didn’t mind. Couldn’t even feel anything but the sweltering heat of your arousal. “-jus’ that- I want you to spit in my mouth, princess.”

And the very moment that sugar-coated sap, Gojo moans.

Eyes flickering shut at the taste of himself - the taste of you. A candied little tinge that he oh-so-badly needs more of - and without even a second of hesitation, he’s stuffing himself right there between your pretty legs. 

It doesn’t matter the rhythm. It doesn’t matter the rhyme. 

And Gojo doesn’t even know any - the very moment your puffy lips are meeting his kiss-bitten ones in a French kiss, he already knows that your cute cunt has taken him hostage.

Jaw clenching as he tries to memorize all those fanfics he guiltily read night after night, Gojo’s bumping up his cloudily condensed glasses further up his nose when he leaves one kiss. Two. “Ohhhh, your pussy tastes s-sooo good.”

And they each get messier and messier after the other. 

Letting the heaping dollops of your juices flood onto his roughened tastebuds, he’s letting his long tongue peek apart your gluey pussylips. Sliding the very tip up and down and round n’ round your slicked entrance. 

“The- the oh!” Gojo flinches just as your body arches even deeper once he pokes his fat muscle past your tight ring. Leaving such a slew of wet slurps with every drag, he was dirty. “-according to what I’ve read, th-the clitoris is found at the top of the vulva. It should be located where the hah- labia-”

His words cut off with what you swear sounds like a strangled whimper when you harshly fist your digits into his silken-soft strands and push.

And you don’t notice it at the time, hell, even Gojo doesn’t notice with just how ruined he was right about now. 

But the sole moment you’re manhandling him to your will makes his flushed crownhead geyser out a torrential of cum. 

Fountaining out waves and waves of seed that paint his hefty base with a frosted ring. Such thickened volumes for the nth time tonight. Just from the roughened way that you were pushing him to make out with your pretty pussy.

He wanted to be used.

“Used, huh?” You’re letting out a murky pant of laughter- fuck, did he say that out loud? “Wanna be u-used, Satoru- wanna keep that big mouth of yours hngh- full?”

He’s nodding. Nodding and nodding and nodding with every sloppy gyration that you bestow all down his features. Huffing and puffing through every gasping breath he manages to shudder in, he’s shooting out a good mass of saliva. “Yes- ride me. Ride me. Fucking ride my face. A-always wanted you to ride me- hngh- please.” 

And how could you deny him when he’s all begging like that?

Gluey ropes of spit and slick lacquer Gojo’s chin like a smooth polish, and he’s sticking against you like he was just as clingy. Jaw grinding against your kinetically moving pussy, the pointed edge of his nose weaves from between your leaky slit and ends up pressing right onto your clit-

“O-oh!” Your head tumbles backwards with an ever-tightening grip onto his sweat-dampened locks. “Yeah- right there–”

“Here? Here?” He sounds like he couldn’t quite believe it. The ravenous edge of his thumb curling right up your soppy slit and pinning down your hooded clit. Hard. “The glans clitoris r-right here. And I found it- I found it.” Breathing out a long whistle that makes your heated skin bristle with goosebumps, “I always wondered what would h-happen if I…”

You barely even have the time to react before you’re staring at the glisten of Gojo’s sharp canines sneaking up to your sensitive nub and biting.

And he didn’t expect this.

He didn’t expect it to be better than the fanfiction-

Because your generous cunt just cascades in another jet of sappy juices, glazing Gojo’s features sexily all the way from his dimpled grin up to his glasses. 

They’re dripping wet, waterlogged with treacly film of slick that forces him to gawk up at you from below with such a loving gaze. Just the way he’s peering up at you is enough to make your breaths hitch.

“Gonna- gonna write about this, y’know? H-hope you know that this changed my hah- fuckin’ life, my princess…my girl.” Gojo drawls out lazily, movements as slow as if he was slipping through molasses when he sinks the rounded tips of his cushy fingers into your slick-flooded entrance. “Gonna h-have you for breakfast- for ah- lunch…aaaand for dinner.”

With a pitchy whine, you’re tightening your hold onto his thick locks and mushing his face so close. Close enough that you could already feel the mushy pout of his lips and that lazy chuckle.

Only then do you realize that he’s doing this on purpose. Mouthing off until you’re making both his chilling frames and his regal nose clash at the target of your clit with every repeated swivel, each glissading snog of his tongue making you throb. 

Everywhere. Anywhere. Everywhere and anywhere that he could reach.

“Such a dirty boy, huh?” You muse, swearing that that only makes him even sloppier. “S’that what you are? Ngh- bet you’ve never tasted a p-pussy before, huh?”

“N-nooo- haven’t. But are they all so…fucking delicious?” And he’s lapping up every sensual ounce, not letting even a tiny speckle go to waste. Because Gojo Satoru was kissing your pretty pussy like he could only dream of those long, lonely nights. 

You were a fucking dream - his dream.

The full force of his desperation hitting you when Gojo’s letting his drunken head loll ever-so-slightly backwards to take a good, long admiring look at your cunt. And you wonder if he could even see with his glasses all sodden and filthy like that. 

You wonder if he even realized when he’s leaving a lingering swat! of his plush fingertips right onto the bullseye of your pulsing button, and then another few at your fleshy channel. 

And it was so unfair how he was pummeling your poor gummy walls with swipe after swipe of his eager fingerpads working your glutinous walls open. Probing his neatly manicured fingers perfectly into your most tender spots. “Like that?”

“Sh-shiiit–” You’re mewling at the tautly coiling build-up at your cunt. Further and further. You felt like you were about to snap. “-is- is this my first time or yours, Toru–”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” And Gojo’s palming his engulfing hands over the jiggling mounds of your ass to drag you like some ragdoll even deeper onto his sloppy maw. You’re forced to slap your hand onto the royal headboard to get at least some semblance of balance. “Jus’ want you- need you.”

Gawping up at you - he looks just as fucked-out as you feel. Blushing oh-so-innocently with his lecherous mouth slithering to steal a loud mwah! planted onto your salivating pussy. And then a final, weighty wad of spit. “Need me to be yours.” 

With a final, trembling shove of Gojo’s pretty face pliantly against your hot core, you’re cumming. Riding out your peak with stuttering rotations all over his lolled-out, bumpy tastebuds.

“Fuh-fuck!” You didn’t even care if you were getting his glasses messy at this point - he’d already made enough of a mess out of you. Embarrassingly so. “S’s-so good. Hah- gotta put your mouth to work more o-often, Satoru.”

And you can’t stop the way that your jaw parts into a soft oh! every time he pinches your bulbous clit at the very tip of every single one of your peaks. Right on time. More on sheer animal instinct than anything because Gojo’s still reeling from the fact that he made you cum.

He made you cum.

He made you cum.

He made you cum.

Babbling away just as stupidly as he had mere moments before, your orgasm is…magical. None of these haughty princes or dukes could ever compare to this. “S-such a good ngh- boy f’me.”

That is, until you feel Gojo tenderly curl his fingers around one of your stray ones to form a fist. Nudging it against one of yours in a…fistbump? 

“You have…no…fucking idea.” He’s letting out a drenching ptwah! of spittle, all the masses and rivulets of your sickeningly sweet juices sliding all the way down his tongue and pooling at the back of his throat. Like he always wanted your taste there.

And you’re still feeling the twinging tremors down your spine, flurries of stars bursting behind your hooded lids when he lets his sinfully long tongue slather your fluttering cunt with another hot kiss. 

Nose crinkling at how you’re stagnating your vigorous cadence, he bats his lashes up at your shocked stare - and you already know what his sapphire gaze is begging for before he even asks.

“Toru-”

“More.” Gojo interrupts you - and he knows he’ll beat himself up for it later. Maybe he’ll even…make it up to you. But for now, the only thing replaying on his cottony mind was just how perfect you looked cumming all over his mouth - even the specially-paid NSFW scenes didn’t go into this much detail. 

He was in heaven. 

You feel the humid brush of his tongue between your saturated pussylips, pleading. Begging. “Wan’ more- wanna taste you more, princess- please-”

And Gojo looks so fucking heartbroken the very moment those lips part with such a wet slurp! A low whine curdling at the back of his throat, his glossy lips curve downwards into a jutted-out pout.

He’s chasing after your pussy with absolutely no shame, greedy fingertips digging into the curve of your ass while he nudges you closer and closer. Stealing tiny kittenish licks, stealing longing whiffs just to smell the scent of your pussy.

“No- no- want- please-” He’s rambling away, half-lidded eyes widening with alarm. Like you were taking away his favorite dessert right from under his nose, and Gojo was not having it. 

But you knew a thing or two about ruling. 

And it’s with such smug satisfaction that you get to push down a wolfish Gojo so hard he collides back onto the mattress and bounces. 

Giggling - giggling, “S’this mean I get to…fuck you now?”

Oh, it’s spoken like a mantra. A true confession that he never even imagined would come out from those lips of his. 

You’re nodding, “Mhm— m’thinking that good boys get to hah- fuck me.” 

He’s ogling you right now when you meander between his milky legs just as you did before. Except, this time, you’re stopping right at the defined v-line of his sculptured hips. Darting thumb rubbing back and forth over the pooling streaks of cum from just before. 

“Did you cum without me ngh- again, Toru?” You’re teasing, and he almost feels so pathetic the way his mouth latches onto the curve of your sheened digits and sucks. “That’s not what a good-”

“I am I am-” Gojo insists, brows furrowing. He’s so unsure what to do, so unsure what to even think other than looping his arms around your waist to tug, tug, tug you ever-closer. It’ll never be enough. “Promise I’ll be a- ngh-”

Shit.

Your fingers shackle a tight grip around his pale, prespired neck. He looks so gorgeous squirming underneath you like this - squirming for more, that is. 

“Then you better promise to fuck me really good, Satoru.” Your whispers come out in a honeyed tone that wafts against his reddening ears. Maybe because of that, maybe because of the way your nails claw marks, you feel his plumpened head twitch. “Really good.”

His head lolls all the way into your grasp, he was done. Murmuring, “I’ll be a really, really good boy- ma’am.”

That did it.

And before Gojo knows it, you’re letting his syrupy mushroom tip slip in a few thick inches with ease. Geysers of his pre trickling out from between the tight stretch of your gluey hole, sinking in more and more.

Gojo’s mouth opens with a slow leak of drool with just how warm you were hugging him from the inside. Your candied walls so fucking clingy that he finds himself choking out a huff, planting two steadying hands on either side of your waist and pushing-

“Oh fuck- oh fuck.” His eyes grow adorable wide, stare perched right down where he was disappearing in and out of you in mindless, rapid ruts just to bully himself inside. “Th-this feels nothing like my P-Pocketpussy3000-”

“Toru…” Your words come out in a growl, crescent nail leaving neat indentations on his column of skin. 

“J-just feels so much better, my girl.” Gojo insists, something swirling deeply in his eyes that makes your heartbeat irregular. “You’re so…so warm and- and wet. That stupid rubber could never compare to the adventitia and musclaris and- and I’m really fucking you.”

He is. 

He was, at least until only a few vulgarly deep strokes probing in about halfway down his swollen shaft makes Gojo bump his ridged slit against one of those spots. The globe of Gojo’s proud cockhead leaves a hefted thud! that thunders pure bliss into your fuzzy head and makes you clench.

And it makes him cum. Again.

Wet spurts of warm seed splashing into each n’ every inch inside of you and filling you all the way up to the brim. There’s so many of his copious ribbons sloshing around inside of you, and it doesn’t even make Gojo’s tempo slow down.

It doesn’t even make him falter. 

“Sh-shiiiit-” He’s hissing, lower lip worried and fussed between his teeth until you were sure he’d be drawing blood. “Cumming—!”

Dipping down a few fingers to part your soppy lips, Gojo’s thrusts get more relentless when he catches his eyes on the steady waterfall of cum and slick seeping into his hoodie. Fucking the webbed mess deeper - but it only wrings out more pearly wads streaming down. 

Gojo’s voice wrenches out from the very back of his throat in a stubborn mewl, just about five octaves higher than you’re used to. “I came…inside.”

The one n’ only warning you get before he hooks an arm around the small of your back and flips the two of you over. Easily. 

Back sinking into the velvety bed-covering, your spine arches in a geometrical semicircle off the mattress as Gojo takes the blasphemous opportunity to bottom out. His meaty tip finally meets the target of your spongy cervix, breeder balls clashing stickily into the split end of your folds with a hulking thwack!

And you’re almost wondering at just how it was possible that Gojo - nervous, bumbling Gojo Satoru who’d never even held hands with a woman before - had the willpower and strength to overpower a seasoned fighter like you.

But that’s when he tugs his utterly sullied hoodie off and you’re rendered thoughtless. Mouth watering at the toned ridges and curves that bulged all over his Herculean body.

Gojo wasn’t just toned - he was fucking jacked.

And all yours for the taking.

Just your greedy stare is enough to wash his cheekbones with a scorching blush, as if he wasn’t near-nine inches deep inside you already. You gasp when his tongue pokes out to catch a few dripping splat! splat! splats! of your slick still dripping from his glasses. “I-I read in a director’s cut that you like men with abs so I…” 

And before you can even respond, his hips do all the talking for you. Striking your own with a deafening pap! of skin-on-skin, broad pecs heaving with a sharp inhale as if he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Wasn’t in control. 

Two of his doughy palms veer underneath your now-jittery thighs and hoist them up effortlessly to dangle over his shoulders. 

Gojo’s letting off a low grunt when his curvaceous knees slide wider across the pricey bedsheets. All the while mumbling, “N’ just because m’a hah- virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two. Like- I saw this thing ngh- o-online called a…” Bending you like a pliant lawnchair down, down, down- “-a mating press.”

Online? Mating press? You didn’t know what he was rambling on nonsensically about now, but maybe you could excuse that with the fact that he was stretching you out stupid. 

“What a pretty boy.” You’re managing out, fingers unsticking a few strands of pearly white plastering onto his forehead. “Now s-stop teasing and hngh- fuck me.”

Your words are jolting such a dark, primal part of his brain. Eyes hooded, teeth pulling back with a low whimper of ah! The bed sings out a protesting creak when Gojo’s hand comes slamming! down onto the poor frame. Spitting out, “I-I can’t stop…fuck- I can’t stop. Won’t-”

He’s pushing and pushing his ravenous hips in animalistic little humps, the cylindrical shape of his cock swabbing in sultry circles around your gooey insides. Already splitting you apart snugly to the brim, but still he’s drilling in for more.

“You hafta move, Satoru-” Even your most gentle tone is enough to make his strawberry divot sugarcoat you in a thickly viscous few spatters of pre.

And when he talks he sounds wild, “Do I- haaaah- do I really hafta move? Jus’ wanna lose my virginity like this. Wanna stay inside you forever and ever and ever.”

He was already pussydrunk.

And it’s so cute it makes your heart clench. All over six feet of him melting into you by now; head heatedly shoved against the crook of your neck, motions glissading a slip n’ slide of his sexily defined abs pinned to your front. Powerless. 

Gojo blinks up at you through thoroughly hazy eyes when you tilt his face back up to face yours, and the deep eye-contact makes him blush. 

“But I really, really wan’ you to hah- fuck me.” You pout, and you already know by the stutter in his labored breathing that you have him wrapped around your cute lil’ finger. Jostling your hips in a slight buck, “Look-she’s begging for ya already.”

Oh. 

“Is- is she really?” Gojo sighing out in surprise, eyes pondering down to where he was making your puffed-up pussy folds bulge. Slipping out a gasp before he’s clutching onto his nose to stop any more bleeding.

Your slobbering lips coated with a glimmer of his spit and cum, so very his that Gojo finds himself subconsciously nodding along to the sappy squelches bubbling from below. 

“Yes- yes you’re right–” Propelling a slow drag of his hips to sweep every hidden orifice of yours inside, “Oh! Ya got l-louder- so you agree-”

He’s hiking up your legs even further up his shoulders, interlocking them with one massively flexing bicep held behind his head. Eyes still locked below - only then do you realize that he’s not talking to you. 

And then again. And again. And again and again until Gojo was striking your poor cervix with repeated battering rams of his plump cock. Dense balls stinging against your ass with ringing thwacks. Spherical bruises of his circumference being indented over n’ over it’s like he doesn’t even realize. 

Didn’t even know he was doing anything other than wrenching out the most sinful noises from your goopy pussy. 

“Mhm- such a pretty ngh- pussy.” Spitting out the very word like it was embarrassing, two sizeable fingers latch around the plump peak of your clit. Transfixed. You wondered whether he even remembered his own name. “Such a pretty clit.”

“Fuck!” You’re halfway through sobbing when he sends shockwaves of pleasure all across your body. And even more so when one tilted drive of all his inches leaves a skidding skim down the area of your g-spot. “There- right there, Satoru-”

He’s gaping up at you as if suddenly snapped out of a hypnotic trance, only to fall into an all-new one. Disbelieving mouth parted slightly, he breathes, “I’m…fucking you. I’m actually- ohhh fuck m’fucking you- like really, truly. This isn’t a dream.” Like he just realized - and he just did. “M’giving you my cock- making you t-take alllll of it-”

Never in his life did he think anything could ever feel this good. He was never going back. He would never be the same. 

Your drooling pussy was molding around him so nicely, taking onto the very shape of his long shaft. Massaging every inflamed vein poking against your splashed walls, so warm with the leftover puddles of his own sticky cum.

 He’s worshipping you, tilting his head to place a heady trailway of wet kisses down each of your ankles. “M’yours so m’-” Then your calves, your tits, your collarbones, everywhere and anywhere-

“-m’gonna make feel h-hah good.” His nose scrunches with focus, a few fat ends of Gojo’s fingers come down from pinning your ankles to splay out on your tummy. All bloated with his thick outline that even through his fogged-up glasses, he swears he could see a bulge. “Need to find it- need to.”

Pound after pound being placed desperately onto everywhere he could reach inside of you. You can feel the baking hot swash of his sap coating you in a second skin. Each dab of his ballooned crownhead leaves behind a marking bead of buttery pre. 

And maybe it was the way you’re feeling the slow trickle of all his sappy torrentials inside you, but you’re gurgling out a little, “What- what are you-”

“The g-spot.” Gojo answers your messy blithers of syllables with a tender rub onto your clit. Though, he wasn’t too far behind himself, if the way his digits trembled told you anything. “It’s s-supposed to be somewhere in the hah- anterior vaginal wall, between your pretty hole and the urethra. Often said to be stimulated about a few inches ngh- up-” 

But this time, you’re the one cutting him off. With a rapid, deprived rut that bustles his left-leaning curve to head in a jackhammer precisely towards your bulging g-spot. 

And then you see white. 

Perhaps from the sheer shock of him leaving a good French kiss that tenderizes your sweetest hidden coves, perhaps from the way that the both of you are cumming. 

“Shit- shiiiit-” You’re perking your ass to smack against his in lewd little paps, half-formulated moans flooding your mouth with each delicious thrust being planted right onto that spot. Gojo’s fucking you through each of your edges, over and over until you feel yourself crashing back-to-back into not one, not two, but three orgasms. “Really did fuck me- hngh- ah-”

Before you even realize, you’re throwing your arms around Gojo’s rippling shoulder muscles to claw a few artistic lines of red. And he loves it- fuck, it makes him cum even harder. 

“S-spit in my mouth, ma’am.”

And when you do, he latches onto yours with a messy, messy open-mouthed makeout. Groaning around his second-favorite activity of sucking your cute tongue - his most favorite activity being fucking this depraved cunt of yours. 

Cumming and cumming until he physically can’t. Steady rivers of seed logging up whatever remnant space inside your snug cunt before he sputters out sheer nothingness. 

A shiver wracks through Gojo’s body with the way he was cumming dry. And once he spies down a few whipped globs of it spilling out to form a velvety ring around his base, he’s plugging your leaky entrance with a few free fingers.

Lapping up that trickling excess with a slow suck peering right into your eyes before he seals you with his jostling digits back up again.

“Love it- love it love it love it-” He’s letting loose with each spasm of parching cum overspilling your flooded insides, those ribbony meshes swirl all around his pumping cock and trickle down in a creamy stream. Coating his twitchy balls no matter how much he tries to make you milk up every ounce, so much of it. Hot. “Love it- love being your good boy- I love you.”

Gojo’s heart races when you only plant a cute peck onto his sheened glasses, and then another onto his mouth. Resting your sweaty head against his very own, “How would ya like to be my own royal consort, Toru?”

Ah, it was virtually a proposal. To stay by your side forever and ever and ever - the only thing he’s ever wanted, really.

And Gojo’s about to kiss your awaiting lips senseless as an answer- that is, he was about to before both your ears chime with an undeniable PING!

Before an agitating, gratingly familiar voice rings across your heady atmosphere, “Congratulations user: [Satorulovesprincess] on completing Mission: No-Longer-Virgin!” You’re wincing at the sterile glow of that screen once more. “Please await the new updates to the program Sweetheart Online.”

And you both barely even have time to register those words before there’s a thunderous creak! from the empty space of your royal bed.

Except…the bed wasn’t so empty anymore. 

Right with your heated proximity was a man - a beautiful man. All long legs, and inky hair that ran down to his slender waist, twinkling amethyst eyes rounded in the exact same shock that shone in Gojo’s right about now. 

“Suguru?”

“Satoru!” Before he’s tilting his head towards you, and perhaps most glaringly, the way that Gojo was still scouring deeply inside you. A delicate blush tints his - Suguru’s - high cheekbones, voice cracking embarrassingly at the end. “P-princess.”

And something about his tone made your cunt quiver - just in time for Geto to shuffle the tightening crotch of his pants. Something that Gojo noticed, if the way he was crushing you to his body even tighter said anything.

“Let me guess-” Gojo tilts his head, a sleazily drunken smirk curving the edges of his ruddied lips. “-the truck got you haaaah- don’ squeeze me like that, my girl– too?”

“It- it was ramen poisoning actually…” Geto’s deep baritone trails off, struggling to rip his eyes away from you as the screen flickers once more. 

“Sweetheart Online updates completed! Commencing Love Rival (Three’s Company) arc. User: [Sugulovesprincess] joined.”

A/N. MAN I love loserboy Gojo hehehe- hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[demonic-shadowlucifer]

people that constantly dog on people for month old drama need to touch grass. that is all.