#from a to n

[danijaci]

prank gone wrong w/ childe

based on a tiktok audio!

HE FUCKING THAT SHIT UPPPPPPP

[hinamie]

morning glory

[eroticlamb]

kate bush featured on top pop (tv), march 1978 ꩜

[gravitycoill]

lil comic i’ve had in my head for a bit

[dykemd]

the lack of dykes n more specifically butch dykes in post apocalyptic media is bizarre bc every single lesbian i know is the most prepared person in any room n not even for survivalist reasons we do that shit for fun

[moechies]

satoru’s punishments 🎀🎶

gojo satoru who focuses his infinity around his already-meaty cock so you’re unable to sink that pretty pussy down on him.

satoru is naturally one to discipline, considering his profession as a teacher. he knows clearly what’s right from wrong, and won’t let you off the hook as if you’re one of his students. you think it’s unfair, but if you were to think that gojo satoru cared so much about your incessant little opinions, you’d be called dumb.

your soppy cunt prods against his protected tip, urging your body lower to sheath his fat girth inside, but to no avail.

“satoru,” you mewl, “i said ‘m sorry. really r-really sorry.”

“hm.” he shrugs, one hand cupping your soft butt, and the other around the edge of your waist. his fake efforts to help you when he’s the one preventing you from pleasure is ironic, and it makes you an unspoken amount of angry.

but your anger is overwhelmed by your carnal desires from the sight of him alone, and the only thing floating through your pretty little mind is to get this cock in you.

“please— let me—“

“no.”

he glides your slick cunt across the faux protection, grinding you down so harshly, spreading your sensitive lips and pressing against your clit so harshly it almost hurts. “y’don’t deserve it, you brat.”

“i d— i do, satoru. d-don’t say that !”

he can’t deny how your sweet little mewls and begs for cock get him uncomfortably hard, wanting nothing more than to feel your chubby walls flesh to flesh with his cock. but he knows you’ll never learn, knows that you’ll be just as bad if he lets you off. even if it’s just this once.

“satoru—“

his wet cock slips from under you, falling against his pelvis and plapping against his tummy. you take the chance to lower yourself, rubbing your sore cunt on the smooth length of his cock.

you rock your hips ever so gently, grinding down on visible, but untouchable veins decorating his gorgeous cock. you’re eager to get your cunt off, but ensure your boyfriend doesn’t grow any angrier.

gojo undeniably grinds up just as desperately against your cunt, listening to the tuneful melody your sweet pussy plays for him. short pants leave his dewy lips, holding your chubby hips down firmly and setting his own pace. “shit. brat.”

he loves the look of panic in your eyes when his hips come to a slow, and soon to a stop, leaving you to mindlessly grind on his cock alone. your crying clit tingles from everything that’s led up to this moment.

but—

“did i say you could do that ?”

your movements come to an abrupt stop when his hands splay across your hot thighs, holding you down tight against his pelvis.

“b-but, you were also grindin—“

“yeah, i was. did i say you could ?” he spits, voice laced with poisonous venom that silences you immediately. his eyes are intimidating, not an ounce of forgiveness or pity lays within them.

“not good. what to do with you ?”

he tugs you off his hip, switching your position so that you’re soon under him.

and for the first time, his bare cock slaps against your puffy lips, and nudges at your raw clit. you moan with inexpectance, the mere feel of his cock slapping against your raw cunt nearly has you cumming.

“s a shame y’don’t know how to act right. c’mere.” he motions, pressing down on your shivering shoulder, “come ‘n suck your cock rights back.”

[ebonytails]

Based on this tweet lol

[emmyrosee]

Could you maybe do smth like cuddling with sukuna

👉👈

Backs facing each other, you gently nudge his legs with your foot, smiling as you’re able to wiggle it between his calves. He traps your foot between his legs, and you giggle when you try to pull it back.

“I’m on insta, fuck off,” he grumbles, but you hear the annoyed smile in his voice.

“I wanna snuggle,” you mewl.

“Yeah, and I want to see how this dude makes this garlic bread.”

You slip your own phone off the nightstand and open your message app, clicking his name and quickly typing.

SENT I want attention, boyfriend 🫶🏻

You hear him snort and blunt nails briefly scratch down the sole of your trapped foot, making you try to tug it back and squeal in surprise. “You want attention?” He begins, letting go of your foot so he’s able to turn on his side and spoon you from behind, body contorting to be straight curled behind you. “Well let me tell you something- I always give you my damn attention. You just can’t live without it.”

You practically purr as he loops his arms around you, tugging you closer and letting his warm hands slip under your hoodie, warm touch on your tummy relaxing you. “You’re right,” you hum. “I just want you all to myself all the time. Not my fault you give in.” He hikes up his voice to offer you a mocking “mi meh mi meh mi”’s. You call him a brat in reply.

“If you won’t let me scroll on my instagram, scroll on yours so I can watch,” he demands.

“I can’t, I follow naked anime men.”

“Im sure you’re joking, but so help me god if you go on Instagram and there’s a naked anime man, I’m blowing up your phone.” You offer him a laugh and slip out your phone to scroll, relishing in the little kiss he plants to your jawline, then adjusting his head to be able to watch your timeline with you.

You can’t help but grin as you feel one of his feet prod to try and get between your legs, mimicking how yours was just moments ago.

[riaki]

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

[bacchuschucklefuck]

beautiful! majestic!

[unrelatedsideblog]

Pillow-talk...? But Sanji doesn't know what to do with the compliments not earned with his service

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[lovesick0cupid]

"universal trans experience!" and its only applicable to american gender conforming binary leaning or strictly they/them frog nonbinary stereotypes

can we pls start accepting that no trans experience is the same im so tired

[umblrspectrum]

i love learning cursive just to write text for exactly one character

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

you’re borrowing your boyfriend!jason todd’s…

hoodie

it’s big, it’s warm, and it smells like your big warm boyfriend. of course you stole it. luckily jason runs hot..or that’s what he tells you at least. the man gets cold too, but he’d never tell you that. not when you look so cozy in his sweatshirt.

sweats

your favorite thing of his to match with his hoodie. his sweatpants are super warm, super soft, and super baggy. meant for ultimate comfort. jason loves it when you go full out sweatsuit in his clothes. like, loves it. you’re like his own personal teddy bear to hold on to while he falls asleep. who needs sweats when he has you to keep him warm..in his.

t shirt

sometimes, when the weather’s warmer, you’ll steal one of jason’s shirts to thrown on over a pair of panties. you’re oblivious to the fact that this combination makes jason go absolutely buck wild. somehow you’ve never made the connection. but more than once he’s found you sprawled across the couch, watching tv, and ended up going down on you. his head nestled between your thighs as you grip his raven locks. his hands are fisted into the loose fabric of his shirt that you’re wearing. he’s not satisfied until your legs are shaking, your moans intermingling with the wet, borderline pornographic, sounds that he’s creating with his mouth on your clit. he never lets you get him back either, even though you know he was grinding his crotch against the couch, chasing that sweet friction and release along with you. but he always just sits you atop his lap after, kissing your cheek as he brushes your hair out of your face. grips your thigh as he makes a comment about the show playing, your panties long forgotten on the floor.

underwear

you never get very far wearing a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers. for one, they’re pretty loose on you, so you have to roll the waistband a couple times, which just gives jason a prime view of your ass. they also just make it so easy for him to get his hand down the front, his strong fingers expertly finding your clit like he’s memorized a map of your body. which, in some ways, he has. it’s not long before you’ve come, once, twice, almost a third time, and he’s pulling his own boxers off to free his stiff cock. it points out, the tip leaking, and you’re opening your legs wider without even realizing it. he grabs your waist, sliding you closer to the edge of the bed, making sure you’re ready before he slides in, burying himself in you. he bottoms out, and you’re throwing your head back, a third orgasm threatening to crest as he starts up a rhythm. the muscles of his stomach ripple as he thrusts in and out. one of his hands is on your waist, the other slowly snaking its way back down to your clit. your toes curl at the feel of his calloused thumb rubbing circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves. he’s groaning, low in his throat, at the way you look on his cock. it never gets old for him, ever. the way your cheeks flush, how adorable your blown out pupils are when you look up at him. your wet lashes, your messy hair. your entrance clenches around his cock as you come a third time, your hands gripping the bed sheets. jason comes along with you, groaning loudly as he paints your insides with white ropes of cum. he pulls out, wetting a washcloth in the bathroom. the wet, warm fabric feels like heaven against your sensitive folds, your boyfriend wiping away the mixture of fluids between your legs. you feel pleasantly boneless, sinking into the pillows at the head of the bed. your boyfriend cleans himself up after, settling into bed next to you. jason wraps his strong arms around you, and it’s better than any clothes you might steal. but what you don’t know, is that he’d let you steal his clothes anytime.

[ebysse]

run, severus, run! (x7)