#divider by @/enchantings

[d3cay1ngst4tic]

— NOTHING TO HOLD ONTO BUT SHATTERED GLASS.

synopsis. if you thought your curiosity would ebb away once you saw the vampire with your own eyes, you were wrong. oh so wrong—

— for curiosity did kill the cat.

and so it is, killing you from the inside, his name engraved into your nerves and a sickly chanting in your mind going on and on for eternity.

contents. satoru gojo x gn!reader. vampire!satoru. fantasy. horror. grotesque imagery. there’s potentially disturbing imagery in this one during the end. <- is quite literally the horror genre who am i kidding. reader is sort of numb and longing. ah yes pining 101. satoru being a cryptic FREAK. immense background building i fear.

word count. 2.3k ish

★ jiah’s notes. please have faith in me that toru will get more interactions with reader in future chapters 🙏🏻 trust the process, yeah ?

series masterlist.

000 — your name suffocates my guts, please don’t stop staring.

the wood of the counter feels a little too smooth.

had it always been this barren? deprived of any aesill or two dumped onto its body, so much so that it’s forgotten what it felt like to have some weight over it. some sort of ground, some sort of need. that it was wanted. like those human hands caressing its skin, the bronze kissing its face, the gold slumbering sweetly on its nose hadn’t been a figment of its imagination.

or maybe, it’s just you sitting at it, chin resting on your knuckles and eyes unfocused.

no. it’s the table, surely. missing something that it’d taken for granted earlier.

(it’s you, something coos right back. you hate how right it is. you hate how it makes you want to look back over your shoulder even though you know just rusty spines of books will stare back.)

but it’s comical, really.

how you miss the weight of something on your shop’s counter while longing for the weight crushing your ribs to disappear.

what had been a dull ache is now a ravenous sting, sharp claws and bared teeth sinking into your bones every time you catch a glimpse of something blue.

blue, blue, blue.

(you’d never hated the colour more.)

blue is the book that rests on the table adjacent to yours, a poor mimicry of the weight that you want so much. blue is the smoke when you look outside the frosty windows, so wispy as it frolics about the streets, sneaking its way to places where it shouldn’t be. blue is the tint on the lone aurcel that lays abandoned in the deepest, darkest corner of the rickety drawer of one of the bookshelves, stained with something so irremovable that it doesn’t have a trace of its true worth anymore.

(blue is the mark over your heart which the vampire’s teeth had left behind.

so beautifully vile that you want it all over you.)

is this what it was like? what he felt, all the time?

to be the root of rotten rumours, to be nothing but something on the tip of a stranger’s tongue, something to repel gazes by simply taking in a breath, something so painfully morbid and dirty that you might just infect someone with a disease yet unknown just by staring.

(just a medium, nothing else.)

you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve stared at the front door of the shop. once worried, eager eyes have now transformed into something much more defeated, something much more. . resigned.

and yet, you’re the whisper that moulds itself into the blue smoke in the deepest cracks of the street.

(and before you know it, you’re met with so many yous, yous which you hadn’t seen in the dreams drawn by the most delirious delusions.)

sometimes, you is the drawl on a middle aged man’s tongue, exaggerated and envious, horrified intrigue slicing through your veins and holding you still for speculation that you don’t remember giving consent to.

sometimes, you is the hushed whisper of an old dame— mind you, she’s a little sick in the head— piteous and patronising, woeful eyes so full of misery that you might just be buried six feet under by now.

sometimes, you is the panicked yell of a child, who refuses to look at anything remotely resembling a bright blue, trembling hands already clamping your vision shut, too scared to look at at fear, even if it was simply the sky outside.

you, you, you.

(suddenly, it’s all about you.)

you and the dazed look in your eyes, you in that rusty, abandoned bookshop of yours, you trapped in the web that you created yourself and you who wonders what went wrong.

(you, who’s still miraculously alive after seeing the vampire.)

some might deem you as a hero, something otherworldly— too divine to be touched by the rot, too pure to be tainted by something diabolical— while some cast you petrified stares and sharp glances, utterly, utterly convinced that you’re some dark message, a sign, a warning that doom shall take over the town.

(a god to one, while a beast to another.)

it’s almost laughable.

while one part of the town wants to fall to your feet and kiss your holy skin, the other part wants to burn you down for being connected to something as vile as the vampire.

and yet, both of them ponder over the same, impossible question—

(— how did you survive? the never ending blue? the piercing white? the sheer dread creeping around your nape like a silent predator?)

you don’t know, either.

you wish you knew. but at the same time, it’s better off that you don’t.

(it won’t be as fun then.)

so, here you are— neither in heaven, nor hell.

(just somewhere in between, with strings through your skin, swishing about this way and that; whatever fancies the people’s whims, just a miserable little marionette with empty eyes and an empty pocket.)

your eyes close and you inhale.

you’ve been doing that quite often now.

taking in air, simply feeling what it’s like to breathe. it doesn’t help that the air reeks of dusty words and atrocious accusations, but at least you’re breathing.

(or that’s what you try to tell yourself.)

breathe, the voice beneath your lungs says, breathe, you’re still human.

(or are you?)

your feet arise from their slumber and guide you with gentle, pitying whispers to the back of your shop, to your room.

right.

(the mirror.)

you’ve been watching the mirror a lot lately, too.

(you know you don’t look like a human anymore.)

your gaze is far too much like a void now. like pools of nothingness trying to take away every single hint of blues with frantic, desperate hands— grabbing onto it and cradling it against their chest like something too precious to share.

your lips are parched, and you’re only just aware of how dry your insides seem— as if a drought dressed in an expensive coat with crisp white hair has dried it all up— burning them to nothing but a crisp, leaving the taste of ashes on your tongue.

(what has he done to you?)

one name, just one name.

so unbelievably smooth on your dry mouth and so unbearingly blinding to your lost eyes—

satoru gojo.

maybe it would’ve been better if he hadn’t told you his name. you would’ve dismissed it all as a figment of your imagination. a distant fever dream, something quite unrelated to the real world, something that one can never think of happening.

(something that cannot be real.)

but it is. very real, infact. it burns itself through your teeth and kisses your eyes to make them water, it delves deep into your skin and fills your lungs with dust, it curls up in your mind and chews away at the little sanity you have left.

it could have been easier.

it would have been easier, if only he hadn’t slipped his name between your ribs, right over the damned little bloom whose roots sank a little deeper into the marrow of your body.

but then again, you aren’t any different.

you still do look for a glimpse of blue in every little thing, even if you despise it. even if the teeth sink deeper into your bones. you still do.

(because, oh, what will you be without it?)

earlier, it was just flimsy mortal declarations and hushed caution that kept the shadow of the vampire alive, even if not himself.

but now?

you’d seen him.

no grated voices, no prideful musings. pure and unadulterated, with snow on his hair and the sky in his eyes, you’d seen all of him— the vampire, the vampire who left nothing but aurcels and his name behind.

no one to intervene.

(just you and him and you and him and you and him.)

your soles cry out in protest when you put your worn out shoes back on again. a mumbled apology leaves your lips, but you’re not sure whom it is addressed to.

(you let it hang in the air for anyone to claim, anyway.)

“ah, you’re here,” your head snaps up and your heart lurches— what? it couldn’t be—

(your eyes meet the blue.)

bile rises to your throat, but it pushes itself back down, crawling its way back home down your throat.

this blue is of the oceans. it doesn’t shine blindingly bright— it’s somehow much softer, yet it pins you in place, a needle thrust through your chest.

(it doesn’t turn everything and everyone else in its wake blue, either.)

you clear your throat.

“sorry,” you rasp, and you internally wince at how raspy, how unused your voice sounds, “i. . . went to fetch some papers back there. is there something i can. . help you with?”

“certainly,” the man quips, eyes half covered by the hat he wears. the blue doesn’t consume you, it simply holds you steady, as if keeping a frightened animal from running away. “i’d like to purchase this book.”

you hear the counter sigh dreamily when finally, finally a weight dips on it, your eyes blankly watching as dusty fingers seem to wrap themselves around the rickety spine of the book, too frantic and wanting, too needing and eager.

“two hundred aesills,” you mutter.

(a snarky voice at the back of your mind along with satoru gojo mocks you for being envious of an inanimate little table.)

choosing to ignore it, no, forcing yourself to ignore it, you fish out the yellowing parchment from its drawers, opening it with more force than required— a sick, twisted sense of satisfaction settling into your guts when you hear the wood creak in protest.

(look at you, satoru gojo coos, and the snarky voice snickers, too, reduced to such a eager little heap of pure longing, all because i looked into your eyes and spared you my name.)

“your name?”

your hands shake a little, and you tighten your grip over the quill you’re holding, the rigid shaft digging into your skin somehow keeping you from falling into shambles.

“fyodor murphy,” he hums, “the book’s name is ‘come find me’.”

(a pause.)

“ah, i’ve already noted that down,” you say, peering at him over the the bridge of your nose without raising your head, “saw it earlier.”

“my mistake, i apologize,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach upto his eyes. “still, the book is simply such an enigma amongst its counterparts in the genre that it— goodness me, it simply cannot be spoken about enough.”

(something isn’t right.)

“oh?” you say, your gaze dipping back to the scrawl over the parchment instead, “you seem rather. . . passionate about it.”

it makes you uneasy, that sharp smile on the man’s face. like he knows something that you don’t.

(it isn’t the uneasy that satoru gojo makes you feel. this one doesn’t consume you whole, it just lingers about in the cracks within your bones, as if waiting for you to do something before pouncing.)

“i am,” he says, and his laugh echoes in the air, bouncing off the ancient bookshelves right back to your face, so overwhelming yet tame, “rostislava silva is an excellent author. i must say, i am quite an enthusiast about macabre mentions in literature in general, but her works are the thing that keeps me on my toes. ah, the joys of obsession and reading it in the most beautifully grotesque way possible.”

it feels a little off, how he rambles on.

like he’s pointing at the title again and again and again, hinting at something that you have no knowledge about.

(yet.)

“and then there’s of course the sheer naming of the—”

(come find me, come find me, come find me.)

“i beg your pardon,” you say, rising to your feet, a strained smile on your lips, “but that’d be two hundred aesills, please.”

(a pause.)

“why, of course,” you hate the way he doesn’t look even remotely offended at your light jab, “of course. my apologies.”

with the copper coins dumped at your counter and the damned book in his hand, the man dissolves with the blue mist outside your abode, never to be found again.

(but he still stays on in your head, slowly beginning to ease his way inside your wounds.)

come find me, someone whispers in your ear and you flinch. come find me.

come find me. come find me. come find me.

come—

find—

me.

(no.)

come find me, snickers the ocean blue.

you barely swallow the lump in your throat before you’re scrambling to your feet once more, eyes wild and lips parted as your trembling fingers take hold of the dusty cover of the book at the shelf behind you, only for the ragged papers to scream the words right back at you—

— come find me.

“no,” you rasp, voice barely audible whilst you shake like a leaf in a storm, legs feeling numb, “no, no, no, no—”

a different book. yes, a different book. it won’t have those words, won’t have that title, it won’t yell back at you—

“come find me,” the woman in the book says, inky eyes unseeing at the second paragraph of the page, and you drop it to the floor.

(no, no, no.)

“come find me,” sing the children’s rhymes, and you feel a sob tearing itself out of your throat.

(come find me, they sing, happy little voices somehow distorted into uglier, rotten versions of themselves by the dust settling over them.)

“come find me,” says the man in the journal, sharp eyes staring through your soul, and your heart thunders against your ribs, a frightened little rabbit trying to escape from its own burrow.

so, so blue that you feel the wispy mist start to sneak in through the cracks in the windowsill to your right.

“come find me,” you choke out, and your body barely makes a noise when everything goes black.

(or else i will, satoru gojo croons into your ear, softly kissing you and the flower in your bones good night.)

★ taglist. @deathofacupid / @descargueestoporgojosatoru . (comment to be added !)

@stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works.

[screampied]

i saw this on my feed and how about sextherapist!sylus and virgin!reader that struggles with making themselves orgasm? you can go from there 🤗

warnings. — ☆ fem! reader, sēx therapist sylus, virgín reader, praise, dirty talk, semi public, first time squírt, fıngering, mdni.

“oh, so you really weren’t kidding—were you, kitten?” sylus hums, feeling you writhe around his lap in anticipation. you’re so up close to him as your back’s facing the opposite way of his chest. in the far distance, you hear a plethora of noises coming outside of his office. meaningless chit chatter from his coworkers, loud stomps echoing down the hall, his annoying fax machine that forevermore continues to spit out those same clicking cries, and so on. you’ve been attending sessions with sylus for quite some time now, and you just needed to know how to orgasm properly. you tried everything and nothing would work. according to you, it was dire and you wanted to know if it was as good as people say. “daydreamin’ again?” he coos huskily, hot breath colliding near the twitching shell of your ear. a veiny hand of his softly trails down your inner thighs, glancing at your slid to the side panties. “ah, look at her. she’s so gorgeous.”

“sylusss,” you hiss out his name, gingerly wrapping your clammy fingers around his broad cuffed wrist. “hurry up.”

the white haired man snickers at your agitation, and once he teasingly ghosts two thick fingers over your throbbing protected entrance—his chest rumbles from wry laughter. “my, you’re so impatient. but fine, fine. spread these pretty legs, let me see what we’re workin’ with.”

right away, you sprawl your legs out even further then before and you hear him whistle.

“what a sight,” he purrs, and your head slumps back against his chest. it was almost half past ten at night and sylus was technically off work. your session ended about an hour ago but you just persisted that you needed one more thing.

an orgasm.

your nostrils smell his musky scent of loud rich leather and sandalwood that’s smothering all over his clothing. he brushes a thumb over the lace fabric of your panties before feeling just how soaked you were. “cute, bet you were soaked like this the entire time we were chattin’, hm?”

“f- fuck,” you swallow, and a plump tip of his finger gradually pulls at the string of your underwear. you remain laid back against his lap, gnawing at the bars of your enclosure.

the two of you were sitting on a fat cushioned sofa that’s dipping inward from the heavy pounds of weight. sylus was slow — painfully slow, he knew what he was doing. he lets out a raspy chortle, hearing your slow needy breaths featuring each exasperated gasp that leaves from your lips. “sylus, please.” you moan through gritted teeth, the wait just becoming unbearable.

sylus shushes you, pressing his soft lips up near the sloping nape of your neck. “there there,” and he talks over your whines before within seconds, a finger slowly inserts its way inside. you gasp, feeling your tummy heave. his finger was long, not only that but it was very very thick. you started to hear your heartbeat dramatically thump through your ears as he continues to speak. “pay attention now, this right here?” and you whimper, feeling his middle finger swirl around inside of your pussy. he taps against a spot that makes you feel almost every nerve shoot your body. “this is the clit, kitten. and this,” and you moan, hearing the sloshing sounds of your own mess fill the room. sylus gradually plugs in another finger - his pointer finger, and it fully extends immediately, reaching a spongy spot. “this is my favorite, your pretty g-spot.”

“s- sylus,” you suck in a frustrated breath, realizing that he had not one but two fingers inside. he’s very gentle regardless . . gentle and undeniably slow. oh, the wait was killing you. with your flapping lashes fluttering back against your hooded eyelids, you couldn’t help but gnaw at your quivering bottom lip. this was so much better than your own fingers. his was far longer and experienced. his plump lips starts to kiss near your neck this time, softly lolling his tongue down your skin, craving more of your sweet taste. “more, f- finger me.”

“yes ma’am,” he jibes, and it takes him a few dreadfully long seconds before he’s finally making haste. the tone of sylus’s voice was so deep that it nearly shakes you to the very core—you feel his exact rough vibrato against you. he hears the irregular changes of your breathing whilst his fingers continue to roam inside of your cunt.

“mhm, there’s about over ten thousand pretty little nerves stored up in here,” and he’s just casually talking over your babbling whines. the tips of his fingers were now already so soaked with your sappy slick. it’s gluing against his digits effortlessly — sweet like honey. your folds were just drooling, and every so often, he pulls his fingers out just to stare at the slippery sloppy mess. “how’s it feel? talk to me, sweet girl.”

as your body resumes to tingle from the circular maneuvers of his two fat digits, you let off a loud moan, peering at your left thigh that’s starting to mercilessly shake. “good—fuck, so good,” you whine, the stimulation making you merely bite down on your tongue. sylus hums in amusement, noticing how your thighs would just fail to stay still—it’s cute, you’re a jittery mess but your hand finds it’s way wrapping around his wrist again. “faster,” you plead, and your eyes nearly roll back once he’s just repeatedly toying with your precious g-spot.

again, and again, and again.

your gummy walls accepted sylus’s fingers freely and it was so snug, your mouth can’t help but start to salivate once you realize you’re coming close. he’s quick, plummeting such inches of just two simple digits in and out of you at such a maddened pace. he’s using his entire wrist, his finger work had your toes curling in awe.

“ah, easy now kitten. just relax and bare around ‘em. there’s no rushing a pretty pussy this sloppy,” and he’s speaking right up against your ear again. if you weren’t throbbing then, you definitely were now. sylus even licks against the edge of your ear, giving it a playful nibble. “c’mooon, give me that orgasm, uh huh. make me proud, sweetie.”

“hngh, s-sylus,” you whimper out loudly, your entire body growing tense. sylus’s free hand creeps toward your tummy, softly caressing against your bare skin that’s loosely tucked underneath your blouse. this was so risky. anyone could just walk in and see you - you and him, but you didn’t care—you didn’t care, especially when you were so close to making a mess all his sofa. “fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“let go for me,” he whispers, and his tone was so soothing. it’s almost as if he wasn’t inches deep inside of your swollen pulsating cunt with two thick fingers. in and out, he’s shoving them in and out of you, twisting them around and curling them all throughout your gripping walls. fuck, your toes were scrunched up, feeling such rippling waves surge through you. you were almost positive that if it wasn’t for the help of his hand holding you steady in place against his lap, you’d fall right from his grasp. sylus brings one final kiss toward the back of your collarbone before humming. “atta girl. just give it to me. c’mon, all on my fingers.”

but abruptly, right as you’re coming undone, you feel yourself spraying your translucent slick all on his pumping fingers. a shrieking scream dies from the back of your throat and he finds it oh so cute.

sylus feels you pulsing around him and he grows quiet—you huff out heavy heaving breaths, realizing that you’re squirting. it only lasts for a few seconds but it felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “oh my g- godddd.” you collapse back against his chest, his fingertips delicately plying with your prodding g-spot for just a few seconds longer before he pulls them out. slowly, sylus retracts his digits out of your puffy cunt, watching how it’s now glistening with your honeyed sap.

“aw,” he breaks the silence, hearing your pussy squeal again with numerous squelches as he’s dragging out his two drenched fingers. you’re still so sensitive, it’s like your entire body was burning up with fiery scorching hot heat. it’s intense, your thighs shamelessly try to squeeze themselves shut whilst you’re just rigorously shuddering on his lap. “would you look at thaaaat,” and his arms wrap around you. “such a good girl. although you’ve made quite the mess.”

in the midst of him sweet talking, praising you and all, you’re panting heavily. your sighing chest’s raising up and down as you’re just laid out on his lap, exhausted. as you’re chasing your own scurried breaths, sylus kisses the top back of your head. “again,” you moan, a strain in your voice. despite how your legs were still shivering—you craved more, you wanted to orgasm like that over and over. “t- teach me how to do again.”

“to squirt?” sylus raises a snowy white brow, turning you around to face him. his crimson eyes bore into yours and there’s that same sly smile stretching across his lips once you desperately nod. “hm, alright. but this time, i just might have to teach you with my tongue,” and you feel yourself throb once he’s slowly making you recline yourself back against his velvet-colored settee. “now lie back kitten, doctor’s orders. .”

[reignpage]

How the JJK men react to you being in a coma

Satoru is devastated

It’s a deadly silence that envelopes you as he carries you to safety, face stone cold and grip tight. Even as you’re being patched up, laid down on a hospital bed, he doesn’t say a word. Just stares and watches every bruise fade, every wound heal, and for the heaviness in your limbs to wash away. But your eyes don’t open. No one says the obvious. 

Lying on the bed with you, he cradles your head to his chest and whispers, “This is the closest to losing you I ever want to get.”

You’re practically locked away after that. He takes over your teaching duties, and he works overtime to ensure the area is as safe as can be whilst you recover, intent on making sure that when you wake up, all you have to do is make it up to him with hugs and kisses. Every curse that runs into him faces a slow and brutal death as he takes out every ounce of his pain on them. None of it is enough. No number of curses slain will bring you to consciousness. For every hour you slumber, Satoru loses sleep.

"I always knew you like to nap but this is just excessive, sweets. Leave some beauty for the rest of us, yeah?"

No one has ever seen him more serious.

"Please?"

Suguru is motivated

You weren’t supposed to get hurt. You weren’t supposed to be there at all. Finding you, lying in a puddle of your own blood send shivers of wrath coursing through his veins. It was them. Those filthy monkeys. Seeing you barely able to open your eyes is a kind of pain only non-sorcerers could cause.

As you sleep life away, he busies himself with plans, double checking everything is airtight and all will proceed as expected. He can’t let you get hurt again. He won’t let them hurt you again. “Hi, pretty girl. I’ve been gone, haven’t I? I’m sorry.”

You're taken care of by Nana and Mimi and every single shaky smile they hide from him steels his resolve even further.

"Yes, I think that colour suits her well. She always did love when you painted her nails. Why don't you do mine too? We can all match."

Manoeuvring you onto his chest, he pretends you’re merely napping. He decides, there and then, he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that the world you wake up to is one that’s safe for you, for your family, for your future.

Even if that world is devoid of him. 

Choso is panicked

He’s fussing, hands flying as he warns them to be careful of you. Every lack of sound of pain, of agony, and anguish from you makes him pull on his hair harder. You’ve always been the stronger one out of the two of you, so to see you limp, weak and silenced, sends his newfound heart racing. Even when it’s just the two of you, he runs around the house, fluffing up your pillow, getting you a glass of water, placing a warm towel on your forehead. 

“I don’t know what to do. You’re supposed to be the one who tells me what to do.”

Putting more hours sparring, he pushes his body to the limit, dedicated to getting stronger and better. He wants to protect you. To make sure you’re never in this position again. And though he’s always wanted to experience every part of being a human, grief is something he can do without. 

"I'll be fine, Yuji. Hit me harder. I can take it. No, I have to. Y/n needs me. I'm no good to her like this."

Toji is terrified

This can’t be happening again. He can’t lose someone else again. Someone so special to him, who taught him how to love again, to live and to know it’s okay to want more. "You promised you'd never put me in this position. You fucking promised."

You’re safer without him. You have people to take care of you. He'll only get in the way.

Leaving is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Every step feels like needles are pricking his feet, stabbing him in the heart somehow. He barely makes it a mile before his thoughts drift to you and stay there.

He thinks about you, weak and recovering. What if you wake up and no one’s there? Not a single family member or friend. He thinks about how you’ll croak his name, force your body up and search the house for him, limping. He imagines your legs will give up on you and you’ll fall, hurting yourself more.

The thought steals his breath and knocks him back. Rushing home, he drops his getaway bag and creeps into bed, holding you gently against him. 

“I’m here. I’m here, ma. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

Kento is ruined

His wife. His beautiful wife, losing the light in your eyes as he holds you. Gone is your smile, your warm touch and is instead replaced with shivering and shallow breaths. The noise that comes out of him is guttural and broken. "Oh, d-darling. Look at this mess. Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

You’re alive but sleeping. And he doesn’t know when you’ll wake. It feels as if you’re floating in that space between the world of the living and the dead, and he wants to follow. 

He never leaves your side. He freshens the flower by your bedside table, keeps a tight schedule of visitors. None of them can touch you, they can’t speak too loudly and they can’t complain by your ear about their personal lives — he only wants you to be surrounded by positive energy. 

“You’ll wake up soon, won’t you, sweetheart? Yes. Yes, you will because you always take care of me. You’ll tell me off for not shaving, for not eating and for pushing everyone away, wouldn’t you?"

Maintaining your routine, he washes your face, puts on face masks, and reads aloud by your side, hoping that a particularly dramatic prose will provoke a reaction from you.

"I need my wife. I need you. What am I supposed to do without you? Won’t you open your eyes for me? For your Kento?”

Sukuna is confused

He’s in disbelief as he's ushered into the room where you rest. Everyone is in a state of disarray and for what, he has no idea. You’re merely sleeping. He pokes your cheek. “Wake up, woman. Tell these pathetic fools to stop their useless quivering.”

When you don’t, he frowns. Brows furrowing, he tilts his head and examines your body. You’re breathing and he can hear your heart beating, and yet you don’t respond to his commands.

How insolent.

Waving the peasants away, he shakes your shoulder. “Your king has given an order. Follow it immediately or face punishment”

Even once he has it explained to him, he can’t wrap his head around the concept of you sleeping indefinitely, though he’s once gone through it himself. You’re different. Better. You’re supposed to be filled with endless optimism and energy. You’re supposed to be bothering him about smiling, pulling him to the garden to look at a flower he’s seen before.

"Humans really are f-fragile creatures. Ridiculous."

Tutting, he rolls his eyes and grumbles about how you’re not even making space for him on the bed. There, lying with you, he can do nothing but slumber and wait for your soul to reignite, sparking his once more.

[naarisz]

Hi! Could we please have some doodles with Ilzt and Gale wizarding together?

Hi! Sure! :D Abjuration and evocation wizards in action.

Also

Firewaaaaalll

[f9clementine]

You Had Me At Hello Masterlist

⋙ pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

⋙ synopsis: For as long as Y/n could remember, she's been unable to speak. But things are changing and she's forced to enlist a local warlock and his coven for help. [sequel to Enchanted to Meet You]

⋙ genre: non Idol au, supernatural au, magic au, enemies to lovers.

⋙ rating: PG-13 (swearing tho)

⋙ status: incomplete

⋙ taglist: open (15/50)

⋙ updates Mondays + Wednesdays

Y/n + the Gang || Skz Coven

『••✎••』 = written part

01. Sold American

02. Shut up.

03. Pinky promise 『••✎••』

04. Third time's the charm 『••✎••』

05. Scatter

06. Kiss the girl

07. Peach lemonade

08. Friends forever

[mrsoharaa]

· ₊ ִ ͡ ࣪ 𑇛 𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒚 𝑮𝒊𝒇𝒕

characters: Gojo Satoru x Reader

cw: none all fluff! Satoru being Satoru, cheesy/cliche frosty goodness <3

a/n: almost forgot it was his birthday today so I thought I'd whip up something real quick! he's so annoying...and cute I suppose. 🙄 Honestly, I immediately thought about @sassypossum and this overgrown man-child for this. So I'm dedicating this one for you my love! thought this was a cute idea! (mind you I was in the middle of christmas shopping while writing in between lol)❄️⛄🤍

Slow dancing with an inexperienced dancer Satoru in the middle of a beautifully fairy-light lit park. Dancing to the soft melodies of harmonious violins and congenial piano playing in the distance, the white thick graceful powder descending from the cloudy skies adding to the pliant serenity and graceful endearment blanketing around the two of you.

“As much as I don’t want to egg on to your massive ego here, Satoru…you actually look ethereal with the snow” you sway to his rhythm, watching the infamous notable lilt of a coy grin curling amongst his pale skin. He swiftly pushes your body away from his with one arm, hand still clasped into yours keeping your balance.

“Oh yeah?” He chides playfully, hastily twirling you under his languid arm and into his chest. With your back planted flatly against his chest, your arm intertwined with his against your own.

You meet his peering coy gaze, rolling your eyes as you glance away. Feeling the titillating warmth seep into your cold, plush cheeks. He chuckles, leaning his head against the slope of your neck and shoulder, gently swaying the both of your bodies to the amicable melodies from afar.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Satoru” you insist promptly, lightly shoving at his chest with your elbow.

“Too late, you practically called me beautiful, now I’m not letting you go — ever” he quips, nudging closer into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet light scent of your distinctive perfume. Soaking in the adorable fluster you were wriggling into.

“S-Satoru seriously…stop” you mutter with a shaky, crisp breath. Frost puffing amongst the chilly air with every huff, nudging against him more, the heat in your cheeks blemishing deeper. He smiles more proudly, swiftly clasping both of hands together to keep you firm against his towering build, emanating his body heat onto you. Soft, glossed lips delicately brushing against the subtle tender of your cool skin.

“Come on…just one kiss, for me? For my birthday, pookie?” He pleas with that childish voice, locking his fingers in together to keep you from escaping his hold on you.

You elicit another scoff followed by an excessive eye roll, shifting your shoulders as you twinge against his secured grasp.

Gradually, you look over to the corner of your eyes, noticing the tilt of his glasses lean over the bridge of his pink colored nose. Brimming, gorgeous cerulean irises starring at you with lingered awe and plea. His glimmered lips forming into an adorable, silly pout.

What an overgrown child.

You pepper out another scoff, giggling shortly after as you sigh. Relaxing in his sturdy embrace.

“…Fine, but only one kis—“ your body swings almost too abruptly, breath and voice cut off immediately by the feverish plush touch of his pliable lips. Passionately, intimately molding over your own with such a sudden gesture. Long, strong arms drape around you, deepening the hungry kiss. Mounting over you with such ease and haste, hefty weight of greed and anticipation looming over you with such dire need and excitement.

You fiddle a bit from his brash act at first, limbs fumbling and brushing up against his with every movement - but eventually, with the lingering, candied taste of his silken lips, you begin to meld yourself into his eager kiss.

Your hands finally found their way from the tight cramp encasement from his chest to the smooth surface of his frigid face. Almost immediately matching his ambitious front. He lifts a prideful smile against your lips, subtly but hardly, pulling away to exhale a chuckled breath. The freezing puff of air fanning against your face, his hands tugging at your waist.

[playstationvii]

#GTA:MagicKingdomDisney

Game Development Overview:

Title: GTA: The Magic Kingdom Platform: PlayStation 7 Developer: Rockstar Games in collaboration with DearDearestBrands Genre: Open-world Action/Adventure

Storyline:

In GTA: The Magic Kingdom, players explore a dark, reimagined version of Disney's iconic Magic Kingdom. The world is divided into themed lands, each with its own rules and factions. At its core, the story follows a criminal protagonist who is embroiled in a high-stakes battle for power and survival within the kingdom's chaotic, secretive underworld.

The protagonist (you) is a mysterious figure drawn into the Magic Kingdom's politics, where a sinister force is using the enchantment of Disney’s original lands for darker purposes. The hunt for Bambi, who is rumored to possess extraordinary powers tied to the kingdom’s survival, becomes a central pursuit, while the player navigates treacherous alliances, heists, and confrontations.

Main Character:

Name: Maximus Dark (or choose your own name) Backstory: A former magic thief, Maximus was exiled from the underworld for crossing a powerful figure. Now, forced to work in the Magic Kingdom's black market, he must hunt down Bambi and unlock secrets from deep within the kingdom's enchanted areas. Maximus has a personal vendetta against the kingdom’s rulers, who wronged him in his past. Throughout the game, the player will uncover the protagonist’s lost memories and long-forgotten connection to the forest kingdom that Bambi hails from.

Motivation: Maximus's primary goal is to reclaim his lost power, discover the truth behind Bambi’s existence, and stop a powerful corporation that seeks to rewrite the very essence of the Magic Kingdom. As the story unfolds, Maximus will face moral dilemmas, where every choice shapes the fate of the kingdom and his own soul.

Supporting Characters:

Bambi - The elusive and powerful figure whose very presence is tied to the survival of the kingdom. Bambi is the key to restoring balance but is hunted by those who wish to harness their power for dark purposes. They are often seen as a mystical being, guiding the protagonist toward their true destiny.

Claire Jorif Valentine – An enigmatic leader of a rebel faction, Claire operates in the shadows, challenging the corrupt rulers of the kingdom. She provides Maximus with missions, allies, and sometimes betrays him to further her hidden agenda. A powerful figure in the underworld, she seems to know more about Bambi than she lets on.

The Enchanted Guardians – These figures protect each themed land within the Magic Kingdom. They could either be allies or enemies depending on how the player approaches them. The Guardians are immortal beings who represent the natural forces of the kingdom—ranging from corrupted versions of iconic Disney characters like Captain Hook, Maleficent, or the Queen of Hearts.

Tiger Lily – A key ally who once helped Bambi and holds secrets to unlocking the magical energies in the kingdom. She is on a quest to stop the dark forces from taking over the kingdom. As a supporting character, she aids in quests related to nature and magic and can unlock special abilities for the player.

Walt - A mysterious figure who seems to control the Magic Kingdom’s darkest secrets. He appears to have been a creator of both the magic and the corruption that now threatens the lands. Maximus will need to confront him as the story builds toward the final confrontation.

Gameplay:

Open-World Exploration: The game world is split into different magical lands, such as Adventureland, Fantasyland, Tomorrowland, and others. Each land offers unique challenges, missions, and enemies. Players can freely explore these areas and engage in side missions while unraveling the main story.

Combat: Players can engage in both ranged and hand-to-hand combat, using magical powers, enchanted weapons, and advanced technology. The combat system is dynamic, blending traditional open-world combat with the ability to wield magic and technology.

Heist Missions: As Maximus tries to gain control of the Magic Kingdom, he must undertake heists to infiltrate high-security areas and steal vital items—such as keys to unlock magical areas or magical artifacts that help in the hunt for Bambi.

Choices & Morality: The game emphasizes player choices, with the narrative changing based on decisions. Will Maximus become a hero, villain, or something in-between? The relationship with Bambi and other characters is crucial, as decisions affect both alliances and the kingdom’s fate.

Stealth and Deception: Players can also use stealth to infiltrate the kingdom’s high-security areas or employ deception to manipulate enemies. Using disguises, magic, and technology, Maximus can change the course of battles or avoid them altogether.

Motivation of Player:

The player is constantly driven by the need for power, knowledge, and redemption. They must build their empire, uncover the dark secrets of the kingdom, and forge relationships with various characters—each with their own agendas. However, the hunt for Bambi represents more than just a physical chase; it's a quest for deeper understanding, as Bambi’s powers could either save or doom the Magic Kingdom.

Key Objectives:

Locate Bambi: The primary objective is to find Bambi before the forces of darkness do. Along the way, players uncover the mysteries of the forest kingdom and its connection to the greater magical world.

Restore the Kingdom: Players must gather allies, defeat corrupt leaders, and unlock ancient powers to restore balance to the kingdom. Each land requires the completion of key quests, often involving battles, negotiations, and solving puzzles.

Uncover Maximus’s Past: As Maximus’s memories return, the player will unlock hidden abilities and unique storylines. The past is filled with betrayal and secrets that will help guide the future of the kingdom.

End the Corruption: Maximus must dismantle the oppressive corporation that seeks to control the kingdom's magical energy. This requires sabotaging their operations, stealing key documents, and confronting their leaders in epic battles.

The Final Confrontation: In the game's climax, the player must decide whether to join Bambi in their fight for freedom or betray them to seize ultimate power. The fate of the Magic Kingdom—and possibly the world—rests in the player’s hands.

This game blends classic open-world gameplay with dark fantasy elements and a rich narrative, providing players with the chance to explore a re-imagined Disney universe full of intrigue, magic, and moral complexity. The pursuit of Bambi adds layers of mystery and suspense, making this a truly unique entry in the GTA franchise.

To project the potential success of GTA: The Magic Kingdom in 2025, we need to consider various factors including market trends, audience engagement, and the unique elements of the game. Here's a breakdown:

Market Growth for Open-World and Action-Adventure Games:

Current Trends: The gaming industry, especially for open-world games and action-adventure genres, has shown steady growth. Titles like Grand Theft Auto V, The Witcher 3, and Cyberpunk 2077 continue to drive demand for expansive worlds with immersive stories.

Projections: The global gaming market is expected to grow at a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of around 9.5% from 2024 to 2028. As GTA: The Magic Kingdom combines elements of beloved franchises (GTA and Disney), it could tap into both established fanbases, providing a unique mix of nostalgia and innovation.

Audience Engagement and Sentiment:

Nostalgia Factor: The reimagining of Disney’s Magic Kingdom with dark and mature themes will likely engage both nostalgic fans of Disney and mature audiences looking for an alternative take on Disney. This could boost both initial sales and long-term engagement.

Fanbase Growth: By 2025, your fanbase could grow significantly as the game's story unfolds. Assuming solid marketing campaigns and collaborations with influencers or streamers, you might see a steady increase in followers and engagement leading up to and after the game’s release.

Projections: Positive sentiment is expected if the game's unique blending of fantasy, technology, and dystopian elements resonates with audiences. Projections for engagement could range from a 15-20% increase in social media mentions in the first year after release.

Technological Advances and Game Development:

PlayStation 7 and Future Hardware: Given the expected launch of PlayStation 7 around 2025, GTA: The Magic Kingdom could be designed to take full advantage of next-gen console power. This will allow for an even more immersive experience with advanced graphics, smoother gameplay, and expansive worlds.

Projections: With the integration of next-gen technologies (such as AI-driven NPCs and advanced virtual reality options), GTA: The Magic Kingdom could have a 30-40% higher player retention rate due to these enhanced features.

Sales Projections:

Market Demand: Based on trends for similar games (open-world, fantasy, and action-adventure), initial sales could range between 5-10 million copies within the first year.

Projections for 2025: The game could potentially reach 15-20 million copies sold by 2025, depending on post-launch expansions, updates, and downloadable content (DLC). A strong, loyal fanbase built from the early adoption of the game could help push this figure higher.

Expansion and Future Growth:

DLCs & Expansions: By 2025, the game could see its first major expansion, adding new zones, characters, and stories to keep players engaged.

Projections: Expansions or sequels could drive continued engagement. This could result in an additional 10-20% increase in sales in the second year post-launch, especially if the game incorporates user feedback and evolves based on community input.

Marketing and Brand Partnerships:

Brand Alignment: With ties to Disney, GTA: The Magic Kingdom could attract partnerships, cross-promotions, and collaborations with major brands.

Projections: These collaborations could increase visibility, leading to higher-than-expected sales and engagement. With a proper marketing push and potentially viral content, the game's overall reach could expand significantly, especially if there are partnerships with influencers or Disney-themed events.

Summary of Projections for 2025:

Sales: 15-20 million copies sold globally

Player Engagement: 30-40% higher retention with the introduction of new technology

Audience Growth: Significant increase in fanbase with positive sentiment and engagement, likely 20-25% growth year-over-year

Brand Partnerships and DLCs: Increased revenue from post-launch content and collaborations

Overall, with the unique blend of popular genres and the anticipated growth of gaming markets, GTA: The Magic Kingdom could be positioned for strong performance by 2025, with significant growth in both sales and player engagement.

[weirdlove05]

🎶 Oh my little baby boy la di da di da di da, my little baby boy 🎶

He got a bouquet of roses because he deserves it!!

[mad0katsuki]

After process everything I overthink I’m totally fine!! Ig!!

[theabode]

[forcebookish]

enchante is giving me actual shooting pains up and down my body

[d3cay1ngst4tic]

— YOUR NAME SUFFOCATES MY GUTS, PLEASE DON’T STOP STARING .

synopsis. piercing blue eyes, and ivory locks— the town’s haunted by the unseen monster that lingers about, leaving you unsure of his existence.

but he’s already consumed you whole, real or not.

content. satoru gojo x gn!reader, vampire!toru, mildly grotesque imagery, fantasy, horror, jiah’s poorly invented currency, human nature at its FINEST LMAO, reader is a bookstore owner, ah yes pining 101 (he already knows).

word count. 1.26k

★ jiah’s notes. pspspsps vamp!toru. . . i have pomegranate juice. . . pspspps (i actually have half a mind to make this a series???)

series masterlist.

001 — nothing to hold onto but shattered glass.

now, the town folk aren’t exactly wrong about the vampire.

sharp eyes, they’d say. ones that make you feel that he’s tearing right through your gaze with daggers instead of a stare. “they were— they were glowing in the dark, too,” shrieks the old man, his grip white-knuckled on his beer, although you wouldn’t be so sure if it’s the heart-lurching horrors that’s making his chest heave or the ‘is that right’s and ‘good lord’s of the terrified ladies. “it’s a mighty relief that i looked away before he could notice, the devil.”

(. . . judging from the faint, pleased flush settling over his cheeks, it’s probably the latter.)

“flee the minute you catch a glimpse of silver hair,” the milk maid would say, wiping some sweat off her brow. you’d tilt your head a little, and so would her young son. “that’s fifteen aesills, by the way.”

your hands would then thrust the bronze coins into her outstretched one, although your mind’s really elsewhere.

something would urge you to ask the woman about him more, but a tiny voice would beat you to it.

“but— . . but mother,” the small boy would gulp, clutching onto her long, cotton skirt, earning a hum of acknowledgement from the lady, “do i have to run away from you, too?”

(a pause.)

you’d huff out a small laugh at the squeals that escape the poor child when the merciless mother throttles his ear, muttering curses under her breath and walking her own way, chest puffed out in haughty indignation.

(yeah, maybe you’re gonna make it a point to actually flee the moment your eyes land on an ivory strand or two.)

“my mikhail accidentally locked eyes with him when she woke up one night,” the troubled young man would say, holding onto his sobbing wife, “she’s been terribly ill, ever since. we’ve tried every healer in town, spent countless aurcels—” his voice wobbles a little, and your chest feels a tad tighter than before, “—but we cannot find any way to. . . to save her.”

“o—oh, good lords,” your eyes trail over the frail child in the woman’s arms as she screams to the heavens above, “what sins— what sins did i—i do for my daughter to suffer such torment? damn it, damn that monster—”

“nadia,” her husband murmurs, before looking away.

(you’re pretty sure he does that to diminish his own agony.

or at least, tries to.)

and so it is.

from the billboard square to the farthest, dustiest corner of the common bar— faint whispers, loud allegations, trembling mournings fill the air, contaminating it entirely, like tiny little pinpricks sticking into your lungs everytime you suck in a breath—

(—wondering why the dull ache in your chest just won’t go away.)

although, now that you think it over, the vampire isn’t entirely bloodied lips and frightened screams.

a medium— that’s what he is, a medium to feel awestruck gazes, a medium to achieve the unadulterated attention that measly mortals crave. that’s what he’s become; a tool for unnoticed humans who are just desperate for some sort of validation.

(honestly? you would’ve gladly done the things that he’s accused of doing, if it meant that you were reduced to nothing but a means of fame to a bunch of nobodies.)

or maybe that’s what you try to tell yourself.

because by the end of the day, you’re still fascinated by him. you know you shouldn’t, it’s wrong, it’s impure, it’s unholy— to take interest in a creature as sinful as this—

(— but the bloom tucked between your ribs tells otherwise.)

this strange little flower, blossoming in your bones like some forbidden fantasy. it’s a question, a plea, a request— what if they’re all wrong?

what if the vampire stares because he seeks, not because he wants to kill?

(that’s because seeks his prey first, you tell yourself.)

what if he has silver hair because he’s something to be worshipped— after all, nothing’s more pure than silver— not something to be feared?

(or maybe he’s feigning to be something worth purity, you tell yourself.)

what if his gaze is a means of his power? something to showcase his superiority— something to warn us all?

(no, he just finds twisted pleasure in ailing mortals, you tell yourself.)

either way, he’s invaded your senses entirely.

he’s the lump in your throat before you weep, he’s the glimmer in your eyes when you stare longingly at the sky, he’s the skipped heartbeat when you turn to look over your shoulder, seeking something unseen.

(this decayed morale of yours just finds a way back to him, every single time.)

“that’d be ten aurcels,” you mutter, eyes unfocused, hands idly wiping some dust off the ancient leather of the book.

“ah,” a rich voice quips, “i thought it’d be more, considering that this book is two centuries old.”

(a pause.)

you raise your head. really, who was this infuriating incel, teaching you how to do your job? a snarky retort dances at the tip of your tongue, but the moment you lock eyes with the stranger, your mind blanks.

“how d’you know th— . . .”

(blue.)

intensely so— suddenly, the book in your hands turns blue, and so does the half open drawer of the wooden counter— your trembling fingers, the dusty bookshelves, the jab of something through your guts— all of it. so, so blue that it hides away everything else.

(guess the man was right about his eyes glowing.)

“you seem a tad bit flushed,” his voice is a distant thing in the heavy mist that’s settled over your thoughts, but you can make out the airy, light tone quite tangibly, “do pardon me if my words came out as offensive. i was merely stating an observation.”

the apology is like insincerity embodied.

(you’re drawn to it, like always.)

“ten aurcels, then?” he hums, reaching for his pockets.

you barely register his words. he doesn’t seem to notice.

(although, the teensy little smirk on his face suggests that he’s pretending not to.)

“i’d like to leave a tip—” large hands gently pry the book out of your unnaturally still hands. you let go wordlessly. you don’t even notice the hundreds of gold being dumped on the counter. you don’t feel a thing, anyways.

(nothing except the needle thrust through your chest.)

“—after all, can’t leave a dear like you hanging,” he’s rambling now, and something in the back of your mind tells you that you wouldn’t have listened even if you were in your sense, “i’m terribly sorry for making such crude remarks. i do hope you don’t banish me from your store, my love.”

it’s only until you hear faraway footsteps that you snap out of your daze, feral-eyed and so incredibly cold.

(wait. wait. wait wait wait wait wait—)

“s—stop!—” you gasp, running the fastest you’ve ever ran, though your legs feel like they’ve been rendered boneless, “—stop, please.”

“hm?”

(silver.)

such maddeningly bright locks, making all the snow on the street look like false, cheap imitations of what white’s actually supposed to look like.

(you don’t look into the blue. you’ve got to speak.)

“w—what’s your—” there’s a stitch at your sides, and you hold onto it, heaving.

(it’s smaller than the one in your chest, anyway.)

“my name?” he hums, and you stop dead in your tracks.

(guess you’ll get caught either way, even if you don’t look at the blue—

— because the wide grin that he gives you serves the same purpose; sharp fangs glimmering in the dark and kissing the flower in your ribs.)

“satoru gojo.”

@stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works.

[screampied]

໒꒱ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, sugar baby gojo, missionary, tīt play, praise kink, mdni.

sugar baby!gojo who lives off your praise,

you can buy him anything in the world—but hearing you call him a ‘good boy’ was the most expensive, priceless gift he could ever get.

anytime he’s buried between your thighs, it’s like pure heaven to him. satoru can’t help but shove his face between your soft breasts, humping sloppily against your body as you run your fingers down his hair. down his undercut, oh that spot . . it makes whimpers spew straight past his lips at the simple touch of your fingers. “f- fuck, miss,” he’d grunt, almost forgetting that his hardened cock was stilled inside of you. his bottom lip quivers as his body continues to sloppily thrust against you, his hips lazily trying to become in sync with your own. satoru almost purrs, feeling your thumb swipe down his undercut and the way you clench around him. “y- you feel so good.”

“eyes up here, ‘toru baby,” you coo in a sweet tone, almost angelic. pretty azul irises dilate, meeting yours whilst you cup his chin. he leans into your touch as his eyes shimmer in the light. “thaaaat’s it pretty boy, jus’ hold my hips,” and he shivers once you drag your tepid hands further down, grabbing ahold of his frigidly cold hands. satoru moans, continuing to drive his dick into your sopping cunt before he leans in for a kiss. “mmpf,” you let off a muffled squeal, tossing your arms over his tensing broad shoulders.

satoru’s soft lips crash onto yours, tasting the remnants of peachy moët & chandon on your tongue—you tasted sweet, rich. .

“no, call me a good boy again,” and with how whiny his voice is and how far apart his snowy white brows furrow, he’s not asking he’s begging. “please miss . . please.”

“mhm, satoru,” you breathe through gritted teeth, his sizzling hot body continuously rocking against yours. the queen-sized bed grows rickety and your nails claw a long slope down his tensed back.

he’s stupidly feral, rutting into you again and again with his hungry jittery hips plowing into you with such needy, greedy thrusts. and as he’s between your thighs—going back and forth, hearing the sloshing sounds of your pussy shriek in rapture, satoru’s got that look in his eyes awaiting for you to say it again.

those sweet sweet words, sweeter than honey.

satoru’s sloppily kissing down your neck as his hips thrust into you quicker. he huskily groans, the sweltering hot tip of his cock kissing up against that same spot. your toes curl in pleasure as you feel his pumping surge deeper into your loving core.

“good boy,” you whisper, letting off a soft whine once he goes back to sucking on your tits again. with a loud ‘pop’, one tit of yours jiggles out from his mouth with a silvery string of saliva swallowing. a sleazy grin spreads across his lips as he heard your words of approval. he’s nodding with your swollen nipple, his eyes telling you, ‘say it again, again. . ’

“ngh, good boy,” you repeat in broken breathy whimpers, feeling the shaky weight of his sculptured hips continuously buck into yours. satoru can’t get enough of you, your scent — oh, that expensive acqua di parma perfume you’d spritz all over yourself purposely just for him to smell - it drove him insane.

satoru’s whining, his face sitting up from between your chest and he’s staring dead at you. dewy hooded eyes lock onto yours before he’s starting to see nothing but white. as satoru’s weakly moving his hips against you—his eyes were staring to roll back, he was about to almost drool. all because of your sweet cunt—the epitome of pussy drunk.

his base was the fullest its ever been. it thwacks and thwacks against your sloshing wet cunt until you’re dizzy, until he’s dizzy. wrapping your legs around his slim waist, you grind yourself back into him. “fuck me, right there ‘torubaby, fuck.”

“ ‘m gonna cum just from your voice—shit,” he huffs, and he can feel your pussy slobbering all down his pace with your slick. your hands run down his waist and he moans from your touch. it was almost cute at how sensitive he was to something as simple at touch. to the outside world—he’s satoru gojo, the strongest. but between your legs, he’s weak—happily weak just for you and only you.

with how wet you were and how his cock’s just twitching and throbbing inside of your clingy gummy walls, it’s just so damn lewd. he sucks his teeth as his bare knuckles split, turning pale. “god, keep touchin’ me please, touch my body. keep t- touchin,”

cupping his cheeks, you have a sheepish expression. “baby, you’re rambling again,” you softly murmur, and he’s panting, rolling his hips faster into you. he leans into your touch, his plump cheek squishing against your palm. your arms go back to hauling themselves over his shoulders before you bring him into a kiss.

satoru’s shivering at how your lips crash onto him yet again—your hands feeling all over him. his hips grew so unapologetically sloppy that it was only a matter of time before his knees pathetically buckled.

as his tongue blissfully curls against yours, strands of sappy saliva tangling amongst each other, he whimpers right into your mouth. satoru’s hips pop against you as he tries to slow down, feeling himself finally let go.

it’s so good, his cock emits out lustrous ribbons of cum right into your cunt and your lips part, gasping. “oh, o- oh shit,” he grunts, feeling the warmth of your ankle run down his chiseled back. satoru’s panting heavily, cowardly tucking his head back between his favorite place — your tits.

“mmpf,” he tries to suppress his moans as he’s still cumming. it’s so much that he can’t help but shake. euphoria overtakes his body as he’s dumping satiny strands inside of you. his tongue swirls against each of your pretty tender nipples before he gives each of them a long three second suck. you whine, feeling him pour every dribbling drop inside of your pussy until it’s no more for him to spill.

a hand of yours runs through his unkempt ivory strands as he’s trying to silence his sweet noises by having his mouth stuffed full. “f- fuck, that’s it, ‘toru,” and he hums with his pretty lashes fluttering themselves shut, feeling butterflies once your fingers drag through his delicate scalp.

satoru’s entirely sloppy without zero shame either. with half-lidded droopy eyes, you watch as a bit of his own saliva runs from the corners of his pink crooked lips. “s- satoru,” you moan, his flaccid cock still plugged into you. it’s hot, his tip was barely even leaking anymore, and yet between your thighs—it was an entire mess he’d gifted you. you always showered him with praises and gifts so he decided he’d shower you with a gift of his own this time.

the gift in question was currently spilling down your thighs and staining the rich velvety sheets.

“say it again,” he whines, pretty eyes pleading at you. satoru’s got a pout displaying against his lips as his head presses on top of your breasts. but his pout suddenly turns smug once he playfully nips at the sheeny pearls that wrap around your neck.

“call me your good boy again, miss . .”

[reignpage]

T h e D r e a m

In which Toji has a nightmare.

He tosses and turns, brows furrowing and lips downturned, scar stretching with the tension in his face. His whole body is tense, twitching, and flinching as he sleeps. If one were to dive into his brain as it works double time right now, they’d see something terrifying. 

Indeed, he is terrified. 

So, when he awakes with a jolt, no one would be surprised to hear his heavy breathing, panicked panting, and jerky shuffling. If you pressed your palm to his chest, you’d feel his heart galloping, threatening to burst right out of his damn body and run off. He's goddamn sweating, for God's sake.

His hand flies to your side of the bed. All he feels is the soft and cold sheet. You’re out of bed. Toji jumps out, dressed only in his boxers, and runs a palm down his face, flexing his jaw. He calls your name out. The only reply he receives in return is an eerie silence that makes him gulp. Hard. 

Fuck, he thinks. Where are you? 

The worst scenarios come to mind: someone broke in and took you, murdered you in cold blood; you’re out buying something, a white van comes from behind you, snatches you right from the street; you’re gagged and bound, killed, violated, thrown out into a ditch; and just as painful, you left him. 

All these potential circumstances sends a cold panic running through him. It’s as if the floor is suddenly moving, promising to throw his balance off and knock him down until he’s reduced to nothing. He can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t move. He’ll never admit to being afraid, but he is. He’s so deathly fucking scared that whatever he sees when he ventures out will devastate him beyond repair. 

Get a damn grip, he curses. 

What if you need him? 

Padding out of the room and into the hallway, light almost blinds his bleary eyes and it's coming from the open bathroom door. In a rush, he shoves the door open and lets out a breath of relief. 

“Fuck, ma. Fuck are you doing up so late?”

You’re clearly peeing, and he’s not sure why he’s swearing at you, but at the rise of your brow, he shakes off the heaviness in his shoulders and leans against the door, forcing a calmness to his demeanour. Toji doesn’t ever want you to see his hands shake so he folds them under his armpits, arms crossed and tongue wetting his lip. 

“I’m peeing, obviously. The better question is, why are you up?”

Shrugging, he replies, “No reason. Just was wondering where you were.”

“You missed me?”

The cheesy grin on your face as you clean up sends his eyes rolling. You flush and wash your hands. He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and pressing his nose to your hair. You smell good. Always so damn good. You’re also unbelievably warm and soft. God, he can’t ever lose you. 

He just can’t. 

“Toji? Baby? You’re holding on a little tight there.”

Unable to muster a response, he buries his face in your neck and inhales again. He fights your attempts to shake him off as long as he can, but he can’t ever hold you off, so you shift around until you’re facing him and attempt to get a good look at his face. The way you cradle his face is full of love, and it sends him reeling. Whatever he did to deserve this he’d like to know so he can keep doing it, in this life and in the next.

“What’s going on?”

He can’t explain. If he tries to describe what his stupid fucking brain conjured up, his lips will wobble like a damn child, and then he’ll never recover from the shame. A big man like him scared shitless by some shitty nightmare. What’s next? He’ll wet himself and ask for his blanky?

You gasp. Fuck. He knows you can see the wetness coating his lashes. Must be the same wetness he saw coating your lashes in his dream. Blood. Chill. Loss. Flashes of his vision come to the forefront of his mind, mocking and taunting, and he swears for a second, as you shuffle, it’s like he loses his grip on you for good. His heart drops. Fucking drops. 

So does his entire body. 

Falling onto his knees, he hides his face into your stomach, taking comfort in the softness there. You’re so frail. He knows it every time he lands a hard smack on your ass and before you even yelp, he already knows it was too hard — he curses the heaviness of his hand. He knows it when he lays on top of you and you croak out how you can’t breathe. When you can’t reach for the top shelf, when you walk into poles and doors, when a car comes speeding past, and he just about makes it, snatching you back into the safety of his embrace. 

“We need to get you the gym,” he mutters into your shirt. 

You slap his head. “Excuse me?”

Huffing a laugh, he explains, “Nah, not like that. Y’know how perfect y'r body is to me. Just meant, let’s get you some self-defence lessons. Can teach ya myself here and there, but better a professional teaches you. I can’t teach for shit.”

“This is kinda random, Toji. Wanna talk to me about why you’re being weird?”

“Not weird.”

Your lack of a response sends the message: ‘You’re not acting like it.’

So, clearing his throat, he stands up and carries you in his arms, ignoring your complaints. You’re taken to the bedroom where you’re thrown down onto the bed, bouncing before he climbs on top of you, tickling your sides a little, just ‘cause he can, before he rolls you both around so you’re on top of him.

Once the giggling and mock-complaints ceases and you both fall into a comfortable silence, sleep knocking at the door once more, he finds it in him to let you in a little.“Just had a shitty dream. Don’t worry about it.”

Head on his chest, you ask, “You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

Brushing your hair back, he pecks your forehead and clasps your hand. The covers keep you both hidden from the rest of the world, the distant hum of cars passing by, filling the gentle quiet. “No. Don’t wanna speak it into existence, y’know?"

Then, as if the thought just occurs to him, he adds, "Just do one thing for me, ma.”

“What, baby?”

He holds your face, hopefully with just as much tenderness as you hold him, and whispers, “Wake me up before you go, okay?” 

“Before I go?” You ask, thoroughly confused. He grunts in confirmation, which doesn’t really answer any of the questions circling in your head but that tends to be as much as he ever gives you on a typical day anyways. Nodding, you play along, not really getting it but somewhat too tired to chase up this odd turn in conversation. “Alright. Yeah, I’ll let you know. Why?”

“Because I want to come with.”

“To the bathroom or something?”

Sure and firm, he asserts with all the conviction in the observable universe, “Wherever you are, I want to be.”

He needs to know someone can give you their clothes for warmth, that someone can hold your hand when you’re afraid, that they can brush your hair out of your face, and carry you when your legs can no longer. Even if the place you’re going to is too nice for him, all pretty and white and cloudy and shit. Even if they don’t let him in, he’ll just sit outside at the gate and listen to your voice. 

Whether it's the bathroom, or the living room, or further out. Whether it's to the store, midday or midnight. Or so far away you call some new place home. Wherever it is, wherever you go, wherever you set your eyes on, he wants to follow. And if he can, he wants to be there to welcome you into his open arms.

There's no place too dangerous, too hot, too cold, too big, too small, too lonely, too crowded and whatever the fuck else. He's never let himself want for more than he deserved, but just this once, he dares to.

After all, Toji knows well that there’s no place worth going to if you’re not there. 

So, fuck his stupid nightmare. 

He’s already living the dream.

[starcrossedspirit]

Lovely Things Belmina and Rose are from this series I was writing a long time ago under my alt name! It’s definitely smut but if you’re wanting to see a bit more into their stories and characters, I recommend starting here. ♡

[f9clementine]

Enchanted to Meet You Masterlist

⋙ pairing: Lee Know x fem!reader

⋙ synopsis: When Minho is accidentally turned into a cat by his warlock roommate, he ends up in the home of a veterinarian student.

⋙ genre: non Idol au, college au, magic au, strangers to lovers.

⋙ rating: PG-13 (swearing tho)

⋙ status: COMPLETE

⋙ taglist: closed

[The Animal Farm] || [SKZ Coven]

『••✎••』 = written parts

00. preview

01. we don't talk about homeward bound

02. i tried my best. time for nap.

03. meow, asshole

04. because I'm a cat 『••✎••』

05. movie night. 『••✎••』

06. do you have a boyfriend?

07. i don’t like him.

08. just this one time. 『••✎••』

09. pick up the phone. 『••✎••』

10. the roommate situation

11. ...simp

12. I need a favor

13. no natural predators.

14. cute couple

15. i wish i knew 『••✎••』

16. two christmases 『••✎••』

17. the roommate situation pt 2 『••✎••』

18. shut in boyfriend

19. i like you

20. it's the little things 『••✎••』

21. everything out in the open『••✎••』

22. the amulet pt. 1 『••✎••』

23. the amulet pt.2 『••✎••』

24. the amulet pt. 3 『••✎••』

25. whatever you want [the end]

1 year anniversary special. the hiccups.