#id kill for that shirt too

[kissthebridee]

i really am obsessed with these photos of elton, like genuinely these are SUCH good photos

[ef-1]

🍷<3

[rugretti]

.

[red-dyed-sarumane]

magu needs to make merch with tenshi on it so i can carry her around in my pocket and look at her like a ragged old time coal miner reminding himself of his wife back home that hes doing this for

[nymphomatique]

your nerd miguel fics are so good i didnt even know id like dom!reader this much

imagine slutty!reader getting ready for another party and she's barely wearing anything, pretty tits n ass spilling out of her clothes. she's leaning forward over the vanity to do her make up, and miguel cand help but get distracted from (her) homework, and just looks at her plump ass peeking from under her flimsy skirt. he begs her to let him rub himself on her and with hesitant hands he grips her hips and dryhumps her like a dog in heat

well, yes!

cw: slight dom!fem reader, sub!miguel yall know the vibes, me indulging in fashion for a moment, dry humping, miguel cums in his undies, this one’s a lil sweet i fear, awkward ending soz, edited AND proofread y’all 🙏🏾 (can’t guarantee no mistakes however)

wc: 1.6k

❤︎ a/n: i’m a dirty liar and forgot to upload this yesterday but!! she’s here and she was a labour of love! everyone who survived the great barbie drought of winter 2023-2024 gets a pin and goodie bag at the door. nevertheless, enjoy!! 💋

“hey, four eyes, this dress or should i wear a skirt instead?”

brown eyes you’ve come to know so well, more than you’d like to admit, flit up to meet yours momentarily until they look at the two articles of clothing hanging on hangers between your manicured fingers. in one hand, a mesh cut out dress with a deep plunging neckline, and a khaki mini skirt in the other.

“um, skirt. y-you looked pretty in it when you bought it, so um- you should wear it,” miguel mumbles, a pink tint sweeping its way lightly across his face. you’re feeling particularly sweet on him today. it’s been hard to keep your eyes off him as of recent, his chiseled jaw, thick lips, and who could ever forget the resplendent pools of brown that takes form of his eyes. eyes that make your face heat up, setting your body ablaze and feeling feverish under the slightest of glances.

he’s classically handsome, that much you won’t deny, as much as it kills you.

you silently take his suggestion in heed, quietly stripping in front of him to change into the skirt he suggested, and pulling on a black long sleeved crop to to match. you silently lament on the memory of the day you bought the skirt, how you had dragged miguel by his shirt alongside you that day to the mall to sit and watch you buy clothes at any and every store, designer or department, and shuck your bags into his strapping arms. you had wandered into miu miu, miguel trailing not too far behind you with your bags from blumarine, versace, cavalli and more comfortable in his hands. he sat patiently in the waiting chairs as you picked up an array of shirts and skirts and accessories, until you were ready to try them on. miguel sat and watched as you said no and turned your nose up at nearly everything until you tried on a khaki skirt, sitting so low on your hips the straps of your red thing peeking above the waistband.

you turned and twirled in the mirror, admiring the skirt on yourself until you turned to miguel himself, walking up to him as he’s sat to ask him, “you like it?” and like it he does, a hefty hand trailing up from your thigh to your hip, tapping your your hip softly. “you know i do, baby,” and you giggle at his answer, twirling for him before walking back the dressing room to change, not before biting your lip and beckoning miguel to follow at your heels with a pink painted acrylic nail. and follow he does, because he’s such a good boy.

you feel roused at the memory of your dressing room quickie in the same skirt you’re wearing now. and you’re sure miguel feels the same, and you don’t miss the opportunity to provoke him at any moment.

you bend over, slow but curt, fixing up your makeup in your large vanity while your ass sits out in direct display, the short fabric of the skirt lifting as you bend. your black thong is made visible as you bend and wiggle you hips. you steal small glances in the mirror to where miguel is on your bed, sitting in a sea of linear calculus books, and sure enough the methods of linear are long forgotten to focus on your exposed backside. you giggle and turn your head to look at him, and his lips purse when he realizes he’s been caught. before he can sputter anything out, you stand and turn to him and ask him, “see something you like, dontcha?”

a silent swallow and a nod is miguel’s response, his growing erection answer enough for you.

“beg me for what you want.”

and there’s a brief fleeting moment after the words leave your lips. an unspoken fervour in the air, perhaps a mix of what hasn’t been said and all that’s left to say about the two of you. you feel hot, your gaze burning through miguel’s clothes, burning his skin all the way across the room. you want him, you want him, you want him. and he’s looking back at you, a subdued but still present lust in his eyes. you see the submission, his compliance. yes, mistress.

his knees hit the floor, and then his rough palms follow suit and he’s crawling towards you until he’s not, and his sat like a good little boy in front of you painted feet, and he does what you ask, he begs for your touch, your taste, your mercy.

“please let me touch you, i need it, please please please. can i have it? can i touch you, mommy? i don’t even have to be inside you, j-just your touch and i can- i can cum. please? oh god please-“ miguel babbles, his hulking form looking up at you from the floor. you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your chest. he just needs your touch. you card a hand through his thick wavy locks, gripping at the nape and pulling his head up to look at you.

“just need my touch, hmm?” you look at him and he nods. whimpers. so fucking pathetic. “i’ll let you hump me like you want. my subservient little puppy needs it, huh?” you coo mockingly. a string of yes’s and thank you’s leave miguel’s lips and you get up and turn around, bending over to brace yourself on your vanity.

you’re fully presented for miguel, and there’s an empty beat of stillness between you both, you make eye contact with him in the mirror and quip, “gonna keep me waiting?” and he knows better than that. he’s up on his feet, unbuckling his belt and shucking his jeans down and off him, standing in his boxers, swollen and full with his erection. he moves behind you, placing his hands on either sides of your hips.

“no ma’am.”

you can’t help but pulse in anticipation. you look at him in the mirror and find that he’s looking at you already and you feel yourself heat up. please don’t make me wait anymore, you think. like he’s read your mind, miguel’s covered erection is pressed up against the gusset of your panties, perfectly slot between your ass cheeks.

and experimental hump sends you bouncing forward a little, your breasts jiggling a bit, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaving you. finally. another hump, miguel’s strong hands pulling your hips back towards his crotch and you gasp a bit and the pleasure. another thrust of hips, and again, and again until it becomes a steady rhythm of soft sighs and low groans. and it goes on from a thrust to a trust and grind, and oh! the meat of miguel’s dick rubs up against your clit and you can’t help but moan.

your moans are joined by miguel’s whimpers, his hips rocking so intensely it has you burning up inside so much that you think you might cum from the stimulation. “s-so good baby, fuck,” miguel let’s out and you keen at his praise. you’re so good, you’re his baby. you push and grind your hips up in time with his, feeling yourself begin to soak through your panties and maybe onto miguel’s dark boxers. you can’t hold yourself together anymore, feeling yourself come apart so you drop your head onto your vanity’s surface, hoping to salvage some semblance of your pride.

the thick hands on your hips move to find purchase within your skirt, grabbing fistfuls of the short fabric before pulling your hips back with a staggering strength. you feel your knees buckle a bit, and your head shoots back up with an accompanying moan.

miguel pulls you down while pushing himself up into you and it feels so fucking good. your palms feel clammy and you feels as if you’re still sanding by the grace of god. every nudge of your clit feels as if it’s short circuiting your motor functions temporarily and you feel so overwhelmed to the pleasure, you can do nothing but succumb to it, and the man granting you it.

“m’gonna cum miguel. so good, so fucking good. wish you were inside me so i can feel you. wish you could feel me cum around you. f-feels so good please don’t stop! i’m gonna- oh!” you’re mumbling and babbling incessantly, canting hips and soft whimpers that turn into heavy groans only further pushing you past your limit through this titillating pleasure.

“fuck, gonna come with you baby. come with me, please mommy i need it,” miguel moans. his hands release your skirt and dig into your hips once more and you’re sure you’ll find salacious marks there in the morning but you don’t care, not when you’re so close.

a particular hard thrust sends you reeling forward, head almost hitting your mirror and you can’t help but give out within your legs. you feel them shake and almost go numb at the pleasure. you’re left helpless, cumming violently and soaking the fabric separating both you and miguel as miguel continues his assault against your poor pussy. he fucks it- humps it?- raw, overstimulating you to the point of pain when finally he finishes with a final thrust, his nails digging into the meat of your curvature. you feel his cum seep through the material of both of your arguments and you moan as it hits the gusset of your thong.

miguel lets go of your hip and you wobble a bit, using your upper body upon your desk to stabilize you. you’re both panting and heaving, taking in the intense and carnal display of lust between the two of you. you’re quiet before you hear miguel pipe up, breathlessly, pulling you from your daze.

“thank you, mistress.”

smug bastard.

[samwise1548]

Also made this sticker for them too. I think it's very good. Might sell this one in my shop actually.

[ID: A drawing of Martin Blackwood from the Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat white man with ginger hair frosted at tips. He's wearing glasses, a traveling backpack, a yellow shirt that says "Kill Bill" in all caps, and a tan trenchcoat over it with a rainbow pride flag on its arm. He is smiling and there are pink flowers floating around his head as he points a gun out. \End ID]

[xazse]

SUGURU AND SATORU MEETING A CURSED HYBIRD PUPPY!GIRL 😭😭

Tags: Fem!PuppyReader, Hybrid!Reader, Licking, petting, Cursed!Reader, Female reader, the licking isn’t sexual.

PART 2

“Suguru.”

“No”

“Sugruuuuu…”

“Nope”

“Please, please”

“No Satoru, she needs to be exorcized” Suguru quite frankly was sick of this back and forth they’d been doing for the past five minutes, they were sent on a mission to come dispose of a curse that had been bugging the village for a while. After killing the huge thing there were still traces of cursed energy, following the trail led them to this predictable right now. Hiding behind an abandoned house was you: a curse? But some type of Hybrid dog thing? Puppy thing? You looked around their age, human body but what was off about you was your fluffy ears and equally fluffy tail.

But regardless you were still a curse that needed to be killed, Satoru clearly wasn’t seeing that, here he is huddled on the dirty ground with you in his lap, licking at his face whilst giggles fall from his lips. You were far too friendly to be some normal curse, definitely an abnormality, something they should also be reporting to principal Yaga and the higher-ups.

Satoru has a tight hold on your waist, not letting you go but you seem too eager to bury yourself deeper in his hold, he’s cooing at how cute you are, how pretty you look, and how he just wants to “eat you up” Suguru damn near wants to slap some sense into him. Your attire consists of a thin nightgown that stops at your thighs, probably something you found?

“Oh I’m definitely keeping you” Satoru says, “no you definitely aren’t, if I’m saying it’s not possible what makes you think Yaga is?” Suguru shifts his gaze to you who’s staring right back at him. “Don’t listen to him he’s just a big grumpy meanie!” Satoru starts to rub and mess with your tail, instantly your eyes are back on him and so is your tongue, licking all over his face again.

“Stop letting her do that, it’s gross.”

“Suguru just look at her, isn’t she just so darn cute though?” Satoru grabs your cheeks and pinches them together while forcefully turning your head towards his companion. You look at Suguru once again, he genuinely thinks you look a little dumb? Is that even possible? A little line of drool is currently on display with your mouth open. Satoru stands up at his full height and a slight whine can be heard from you.

“Don’t worry I’m not leaving” Satoru helps you stand up and you’re instantly clinging to him again, you can’t reach and lick his face again so you take to cuddling into his chest, smooshing your head all over. He uses a hand to rub at your ears while cooing at you again.

Suguru’s phone rings and the called ID reads Principal. “That’s Yaga, Satoru, we should be leaving now.” Satoru looks at Suguru with puppy eyes, fake tears decorating his lash lines. Suguru visibly sighs out loud before speaking: “listen we won’t exorcize her, but we do have to leave okay?”

They do end up leaving you, a confused look on your face as you clutch onto Satoru’s clothes and attempt to follow them , he gently grabs ahold of your hands and disengages them from his shirt, he feels so bad for leaving you, already had felt a connection with you even with a short time frame.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hitman // Accident

Imagine you wake up tied to a chair ducktape over your mouth and the weight of gravity weighing on your chest. Finally gaining your bearings you realize you are haphazardly hanging from a rickety-looking bridge above a raging river by a man in a black compression shirt a bored look on his face and a phone to his ear. You don’t try to struggle only watching wide-eyed as you hope this Hitman doesn’t drop you 

“Really…the wrong one? Fine, I’ll figure it out.”

Breathing is so much easier when he pulls you from the edge with one hand by the way. He doesn’t untie you sighing exasperatedly while running a hand through his hair. Finally, he takes the ducktape off your mouth waving off your barrage of questions. 

“Look things happened and I was supposed to kill someone who looks a lot like you but not.”

“So you're a hitman and you made a mistake?”

“Yup.”

“Are you going to kill me for knowing you then?”

“I don’t have to.”

“Then can I go home?”

“Er no.”

“Because I’m going to talk?”

“No more like you wouldn’t be able to get into the country anyway.”

Turns out the hitman who happened to target you was incredibly too thorough and ended up burning your ID, crafting up a reasonable missing persons case for you, and making it hard for you to do anything in the country that you can’t properly even find on a map. So to combat the absolute mess of having to go through all the legalese and interrogation you’d go through to get back to your life he comes up with his solution.

“How about you just stay with me? I’ve got more than enough room.”

And he does. It's a place that’s like a small castle, he reasons it’s best that you just help clean the place and maybe make a meal or two. You accept not that you had any other choice at this point so he’ll untie you and take you there. Wherever this backwater country is he’s got a home filled with villagers who are happy to care for it. And in a language you don’t recognize they celebrate it when he brings you home, cheering and excitedly holding your hands. He can’t help but laugh at you while you try to figure things out.

“Hey! What was she saying before?”

“You really shouldn’t just blindly nod to what people are saying. That’s what gets you in trouble.”

“What else am I supposed to do?! She was smiling so wide it must’ve been something nice, right?”

“Hahaha, you're hopelessly adorable.”

When this Hitman is not sitting around laughing at you or mistranslating your requests, he’s not so bad. As the only one who understands what you’re saying and can actually respond to you in a rewarding way. Dismissing that he ruined your everyday life, he’s decent company usually smirking to himself while he makes fun of whatever you're doing. 

“That hat is way too big for you and so are your clothes. It’s kinda cute.”

“It’s not cute! For whatever reason nobody will give me anything other than your clothes it’s really inconvenient.”

“How do you know they're mine?”

“Because they smell like–”

“Awwww are you smelling me in your free time (Y/n)?”

“NO! Wait it’s just an observation—”

“Ewww so perverted (Y/n)~”

When he’s not around to mess with you, he’s off to work. Wearing those same tight-fitted pants he did when you first woke up. It’s…a little sad sometimes. He is the only one you can easily communicate with but you manage to enjoy the thousands of books he has in his home, hang out with the kittens of the farm, and slowly but surely get a grasp on the language all the villagers speak. Maybe one day you can surprise him by being able to call him out the next time he tries to humiliate you to the villagers. It certainly keeps you occupied from thinking about going home anytime soon.

“That’s another body in the ground. Where’s my money?”

The hitman once again casually dismembers another target for his client, taking a quick picture before hurrying to the store. You did say you were a fan of a certain gaming system, he’s got more than enough to spend now that he’s completed another job. Not that he really needed to that amount he had could very well pay for the entire lives of generations to come. That is if he hasn’t budgeted for a luxurious life with you.

“Mmm, which one should I get? Hmm?”

“Oh, are you interested in some of our AAA titles?”

“Not for me but for my partner….I’m just worried they’ll leave me and our kids out while playing.”

“Well if you like we have some lighthearted multiplayer games.”

“That’s perfect!”

He does plan as though you already have kids. He doesn’t need to know if you two will conceive with him or adopt but it doesn’t matter it’s happening. Because to him, you two are already bound to be happily married—all according to his plan. He’s just glad it’s going off so far without a hitch.

“Hi I’m back!”

“Welcome welcome hope everything went well for you chief!”

“How are their studies coming?”

“Decent but they’ll never fully be able to grasp the codes, just as you planned.”

“Perfect. (Y/n) they’re saying you should be the one to massage me this time.”

“What?! There is no way they said that.”

Your hitman’s greatest power is his nonchalant attitude. It’s what allows you to accept that it was his carelessness that led to you being targeted in the first place. It’s what have you not looking twice when ‘the villager’ demands you both feed each other. It might take a while before you fully become the you–he envisioned in his plans but he can wait.

After all your hitman’s waited this long. He doesn’t mind waiting a little more.

“Don’t think too much and let’s just let fate that I’ve chosen decide.”

[lizlovestofangirl]

have you ever considered a coquette! gf and luke 👉🏻👈🏻 teeheeeee 🌷🎀🤍 ur smaus give me a purpose in life and a will to live 🥹

"my good looking boy"

luke castellan x daughterofaphrodite!coquette!reader

smau - luke loves his girl so much he lets her walk him like a dog (but coquettley )

🎧 - good looking by suki waterhouse

a/n: ahhhh i love this request! (btw u give me a will to live) i can just picture luke being difficult with everyone else and then letting his girl put bows in his hair and like him sleeping in her fancy pink bed AHHHH IM DYING (also percabeth is PERCABETHING in this)

*possible swearing and suggestive content, not checked so there could be mistakes*

--------------------------------------------------------

liked by silenaaaa, iamchrisrodriguez, and others

yn_yln he loves bows now

tagged itslukecastellan

view comments:

larueclarisse LMAO U HAVE HIM WHIPPED

yn_yln 🐕‍🦺

iamchrisrodriguez LMFAOOOOO

_groverunderwood yikes luke you just got called a dam dog

percy.jackson me personally id never take that

whosannabeth yes you would

percy.jackson yes i would

itslukecastellan and im the whipped one??

percy.jackson stfu

larueclarisse marry me??? ���

yn_yln I DO

itslukecastellan what 🙂

silenaaaa SO CUTE Y/N

yn_yln YOU SEL

itslukecastellan i ❤️ my gf

yn_yln i ❤️ my bf

silenaaaa I CANNOT W THIS I LOVE LOVE

itslukecastellan where are my photo creds for the first picture????

yn_yln photo credits for the first picture go to this little shit head

whosannabeth @percy.jackson you'd take that too shithead

percy.jackson yeah...

yn_yln 🐕‍🦺

_groverunderwood that dam bow

yn_yln still concerned about the timing of this original joke

percy.jackson @itslukecastellan wheres ur dignity man

itslukecastellan 🤷

whosannabeth IGNORE PERCY THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IVE EVER SEEN

yn_yln i ❤️ my annabeth

itslukecastellan i thought you ❤️ me?

yn_yln know your place pretty boy

rachel.edare coquette bf

yn_yln duh gotta match the aesthetic

hi_imtyson 🎀

yn_yln MISS YOU TYSON

larueclarisse where can i get one of those shirts?

iamchrisrodriguez please dont answer that

yn_yln i'll send you the link 😘

iamchrisrodriguez shit

liked by whosannabeth, clarisselarue, and others

itslukecastellan she thinks im pretty (ft. this week's flowers)

tagged yn_yln

view comments:

iamchrisrodriguez STOP UR KILLING MY RELATIONSHIP

itslukecastellan just do better chris

yn_yln yeah be like luke (this is the only time you will ever hear this advice from anyone)

larueclarisse hello is want flowers too???!?!??

yn_yln lmao

silenaaaa where do u find one of this kind

yn_yln the pound go for the ones w daddy AND mommy issues

itslukecastellan jesus y/n

yn_yln 😊😊

percy.jackson ur ugly

itslukecastellan ur uglier

percy.jackson nuh uh

itslukecastellan yuh huh

percy.jackson nuh uh

itslukecastellan yuh huh

whosannabeth ignore percy. again.

itslukecastellan ive gotten very good at it

larueclarisse REAL

iamchrisrodriguez not real clar he pisses u tf off

larueclarisse 💐???

_groverunderwood those dam bows again

percy.jackson HAHAHAAHA

yn_yln pretty sure thats a laugh of trauma

itslukecastellan quit grover

yn_yln i love you

itslukecastellan is love you more

yn_yln WHERE ARE MY PHOTO CREDS FOR THE SECOND PICTURE??? HMMM???

itslukecastellan this little rat took the second photo

rachel.edare 🐕‍🦺

itslukecastellan i hate you 🙂

yn_yln's story

view reply from percy.jackson:

percy.jackson im holding this against him forever

yn_yln good pls do

view reply from itslukecastellan:

itslukecastellan youre lucky i love you or else i would not let you expose me like this

yn_yln love you too castellan

view reply from larueclarisse:

larueclarisse IM CRYING

larueclarisse YOU SHOULDVE SEEN THE LOOK ON HIS AND CHRIS'S FACES WHEN THEY SAW THIS

larueclarisse LUKE TURNED EVERY SHADE OF RED AND CHRIS LOOKED LIKE HE MIGHT SHIT A BRICK

yn_yln LMAOOOO

view reply from silenaaaa:

silenaaaa y/n you cant have other campers in our cabin

yn_yln but you love love

silenaaaa fair

silenaaaa wait

silenaaaa wait what kind of love 😏

yn_yln JEEZ NOT THAT KIND

yn_yln just posted a story

view reply from itslukecastellan:

itslukecastellan im blushingggg

yn_yln good

view reply from iamchrisrodriguez:

iamchrisrodriguez Y/N STOPPPP

yn_yln no

view reply from whosannabeth:

whosannabeth how much do u think i'll have to pay percy to do this?

yn_yln nothing hed do anything for u

whosannabeth oh wait true

[seiwas]

hihi sel! for your trope mashup game: bedsharing + teacher au featuring satosugu! (or any ship of your choice, really bahaha)

bitti!! thanks for playing with me 🥹 u need to know. this took me tf out 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thanks for bouncing around these ideas w me babie @mieiri

"looks like we'll have to cuddle tonight," gojo plops down on the foot of the bed, hands outstretched behind him.

you drop your bag to the floor, scanning the rest of the room.

there's a decently sized window at the far end, with a small desk and its own chair. to your immediate right is the bathroom, with a single sink, a small shower space, and a toilet. the space is okay, not too big and not too small considering the two giants you’re rooming with.

except, there’s one problem. when your eyes pan to the left, right up against the wall—

there's only one bed.

you can hear geto chuckling behind you, his leather jacket crinkling as he walks around the room.

there was supposed to be a couch at least. that's what your faculty had promised you. it's why you agreed to room with geto and gojo in the first place.

"dibs not middle," geto settles into the seat right at the end of the room.

they both look at you.

oh god.

this professor's retreat was initiated by your college in an effort to mingle with your colleagues from the other departments. not that you needed it to get to interact with gojo and geto, you know each other enough from the weekend martial arts classes you attend together.

that being said, though, knowing them from a shared class is a far different relationship from being comfortable enough to sleep beside them.

between coinciding schedules with the physics department and later time slots of the molecular biology classes, the chemistry classes you teach leave almost no opportunity for you to pass them in the hallways.

which, is honestly kind of a good thing.

you don't think you can handle seeing them even more than you already do on the weekends; gojo dressed in tight compression shirts and geto in those sickeningly fitted vests. how sweaty they both end up after sparring with one another—

"i'll take the floor," you announce, heat firing your cheeks as you immediately rifle through the cabinets in the bathroom for extra towels.

granted, the outfits they wear to work are a lot more modest. gojo always opts for pressed dress shirts, neat and sleek as if he’s busy (which he is, you think. he’s always somehow invited to meetings with the university’s higher-ups). geto, on the other hand, swears by his leather jackets. if it weren’t for the ‘lecturer’ id clipped to his jacket pocket, he’d easily be mistaken as a student. you’re pretty sure he has, especially by his own students on the first day of class.

still, you cannot handle sleeping in between the two of them.

in your panic, you don't notice the sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom door, a broad figure leaning over its frame.

"hey,"

you’re going to kill gojo.

between the two of them, gojo’s always the one who tries to convince you to join in on their antics. but as long as he doesn’t touch you, you think you’ve built up a pretty good immunity to all his tricks.

this, however, is a completely different tactic.

if one of them can persuade you by voice alone, it’s geto suguru—and it seems like gojo knows it too.

“you know there'll be plenty of space on the bed, right?"

it was a mistake for you to look up, because now you've caught his eyes, an impossibly hypnotizing brown that drips warmth into his honeyed speech.

you breathe out, keeping your cool, “it's okay, suguru, i don't mind.”

he crosses his arms, leaning more of his weight on the doorframe as he peers down at you. a strand of his hair falls from the bun he usually keeps it in; it’s tip lands right where his smirk ends.

well, fuck.

"satoru's a stick," he comments, and from within the room you can hear gojo start to whine, “hey—!”, but suguru continues, ignoring him, “i can squeeze closer to the wall."

he tilts his head, dipping it lower.

you sigh, closing your eyes. the towels you’ve managed to scavenge now slipping from your hands.

when you step outside in evident defeat, gojo sits up from the bed, tapping the space beside him as he crosses his legs. gojo runs his mouth a lot of the time, but it’s in this moment that you truly believe pretty boys shouldn’t be allowed to speak. because when he says—

"c'mon, it'll be fun."

—you think the next three days will simultaneously be the best and worst days of your life.

some additional things i didn’t include:

gojo’s pedagogy is terrible but students love to take his class because they think he’s hot + he doesn’t require attendance. his assessments are either extremely easy (aka nothing) or fucking hard and students are willing to take this gamble 🥲 he also sucks at teaching because he can’t explain for shit!!! but he grades high 😃

geto on the other hand!! good all around except his assessments are always fucking HARD. but students also love to take his class because they actually learn something 😃 (and also bc his students crush on him hard lmao)

the sleeping situation happens as follows: gojo takes up most of the bed space and geto does in fact squeeze to the wall, with you squished to his side too 😃 on one of the nights, gojo clings onto you and geto scoots closer because the empty space freaks him out a lil 😃 at some point, both of them squish you in the middle too 😃 you start to think maybe they wanted this all along…

[honeysmoonn]

finnick being protective?

warnings: set in catching fire b4 quarter quell, tiny signs of panic attacks if you squint, mean peacekeeper (nothing new), very short but don’t fear at least one more part will be posted soon!

a/n: thanks for the request anon!! i hope i did this justice, if not lmk and id be happy to rewrite something similar: )

when you were crowned victor of the 67th annual hunger games, the last thing you expected was to be thrown into the quarter quell.

it was like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from, constantly stuck in a never ending state of fear and anxiety. it was slowly killing you from the inside out.

one thing, one person kept you grounded, though. finnick odair. finnick had been your mentor for your games. he taught you everything you knew about surviving. he taught you how to tie intricate fishing knots, which led you to survive off fishing during your games. every time a fish swam into the fishing net, you smiled up to the sky. and in the other side, finnick smiled back.

though survival wasn’t the only thing finnick taught you.

he taught you how to control your emotions, he taught you how to be strong, and most importantly, how to love.

love was a tough thing in your eyes. you never had any childhood crushes after river, a boy a year older than you, got pulled into the hunger games and died. to you, it felt like the universe was against you, so the idea of love never came easy. though, after finnick was in the picture, he took note of your hesitancy to his flirting and made it his mission to make you feel loved. he ultimately came up with the conclusion that you yourself hadn’t been loved on enough; and no one should live without love.

after you won your games, nightmares and panic attacks came often. but it wasn’t your mother or father you comforted you; it was finnick. he was the one you sat with you on endless nights, cradling you in the protection of his arms.

even now, as the two of you stood on the stage facing your district, you looked to finnick with tears in your eyes. even as ocean formed in your eyes and the crisp air began hard to breathe, finnick remained calm. once the two of you were directed backstage, your first instinct was to go to finnick. luckily, his was too.

“finn,” you sobbed into his shirt. he was quick to wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace, holding you close to him, but not too tight; like you were a porcelain doll. it felt like you were, that a single wrong word would shatter you into a million shards of glass. “i don’t wanna go back.” you let out a long and shaky sigh, tightly shutting your eyes as if the world around you would melt away, leaving just you and finnick.

one of his big hands fell on your back, gently stroking the soft material of your light blue dress your mother made especially for reaping days. the other one cradled your head, holding you close to his chest. every so often he would press his soft lips to the top of your head, murmuring softly. “don’t worry, don’t worry about a thing. i’ll protect you. i won’t let anything happen to you.”

his words paired with his gentle touch almost calmed your nerves. but the immediate though of him flooded your brain. “oh, oh no finnick,” you pulled back, only slightly. finnick arms were still latched onto yours, grounding you to him. “what about you? what about us?” the quiver in your voice made finnick heart sink into his stomach.

while it wasn’t true, he continued to soothe you by whispering “it’ll be okay” and “we’ll be alright” into your ear while rocking your gently. he knew, when it came down to it, it wouldn’t be him walking out of that arena.

the quiet moment shared between you was cut off by a peacekeeper. the man dressed in white didn’t waste anytime, nor give any warnings before he ripped you out of finnick warm grasp. it was only to get you ready for the train, but finnick jaw ticked as your brow furrowed at the man’s tight grip. somehow, you were back in the area. just a teenager again as another tribute tried to pull you to your certain death.

“hey, hey, hey!” the blond boy rushed forward, taking hold on the peacekeepers white jacket and trying his best to keep you away from the government troop. he could see the fear in your eyes, he knew those eyes. the same eyes that he looked into countless nights when either of you had nightmares. “no need for all this, let her go.” it was so sincere, his tone. it was kind of how he talked to you, calm and gentle. but behind the sweetness there was a tang of venom, a underlying sense of tension hung over finnick head as the peacekeeper didn’t move a muscle.

and older woman (you couldn’t remember her name. diamond? sapphire? something stupid like that), another previous victor (and now your mentor) stepped forward. her hand fell of finnicks shoulder, she meant it in a motherly way but the boy in front of you frowned. “oh finnick, darling, don’t worry. he’s just trying to help.”

“she doesn’t need any help.” this time his words came out as rough and full of intention. and yet the peacekeeper didn’t budge. finnick was fed up. he lurched forward to harshly shove the man shoulder, causing him to stumble back and let go of you. “i got her from here.” he grumbled to the man now on the floor before turning to you. “you okay? anything hurt?” you shook your head and he smiled.

“thank you.” you smiled back at him. his efforts to make you feel better certainly went a long way considering the circumstances. “you didn’t have to do that.” you hated to admit, but you could feel a certain pink blush creeping across your cheeks. finnick must have also noticed, seeing he smirked and placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you away from the peacekeeper and mentor.

“i know,” he replied softly. “but they shouldn’t be doing all that to you. you’ve been through enough.” he gently nudged your shoulder. how he could go from being rough with the capitol people do being so very delicate with you was an odd thing, but beautiful nonetheless. “now cmon, let’s get you to bed.” he smiled with a kiss to your head.

[therandomartmaker]

[Image ID: An artwork featuring Sam Manson standing with her back facing the camera in a field of red flowers. She is wearing a purple short-sleeved shirt tucked into a black half-corset, over a mesh/fishnet shirt. She has a torn purple skirt with a green inside, wearing dark pants under it and boots. She has one arm to the side, it can’t be told whether the hand is covered in her own blood, or the blood of others. Her skirt is stained, too. Above her head is written “Thou wilt find that blood is spirit - Friedrich Nietzsche” /End ID]

Day 27: “Blood blossoms weren't named for their blood red color. They were named for the liquid they fed on.”

pov: i went brushset hunting for a good flower brush because damn if i was spending more than an hour on this. On a side note, though, i hc this is an au of the dan phantom timeline where sam lived and chose to grow blood blossoms to, eventually, kill dan. apologies if this is early it’s like. 8pm aest 27th oct so it’s on time for me lmaoooo

[sickly-sapphic]

[ID: A swirly, pink and blue background on all slides. Text reads; I'm laughing with my queer friends. We talk about queer love and queer sex. "God, I am such a lesbian, I'd literally throw up if I saw a dick irl!" I shrink back. She'll wonder why she doesn't have many transfem friends. "Women & AFABs" is written on a bright, rainbow sign. There's a trans flag on one corner, an intersex one on the other.

I sigh and walk inside.

They all wonder why so few transfems attended the meeting today. "AFAB Healthcare" is the title of the breast cancer awareness post on my for you page this morning.

They'll dare to wonder later why "all our beautiful trans women" are dying so young. There's a reddit post asking trans women what they think of the flag. There's 100 comments.

3 of them are trans women.

All of those have replies, telling them they're wrong.

They'll ask why trans women don't voice their opinions enough. I notice, quietly, I am far more acknowledged in conversation, with my longer hair and visible chest, than the girl across the table with buzz cut and a t-shirt.

They'll wonder why she doesn't keep contact with the rest of the group. My voice is too harsh, too loud. I don't qualify as a girl because or hairy legs or a weird nose.

They ask why so many transfems worry that much about passing. My mutuals repost and talk about punching terfs & kicking transphobes. They have never posted a transfem positivity post. They comment how little their transfem following is.

They scream predator at the trans girl in a collar and cat ears. She is 16. They comment how little they see trans girls in public these days.

I've been called a rapist, a groomer, a creep, for existing in online spaces since 14. It gets worse in short clothes or posts mentioning sex. They keep asking where to find good transfem voices online.

You drown, and you kill. You shout, and you maim. And you have the nerve, the audacity, to look me in the eyes and ask,

"Where are all the trans girls these days?" End ID]

[youhaveraybies]

Heaven Knows I’m miserable now🍂

…

@sarcastic-cookie @herondale-lightworm @anunstablefangirl @kitsbaby123

More jeremy !!!!!!!!!!!!

I’d been hours , four long hours…it was dark outside and you were ready for bed ; settled so nicely in your bed , reading and trying…failing…to distract yourself from your ghost boyfriend who’d well…disappeared from the face of the earth. Maybe he’d moved on…? moved onto the next thing…made at peace or something…you’d hoped he hadn’t , you missed him. Rethinking everything, the way his lips felt so perfect against yours . You tried to read a book, only stopping on the same sentence two hundred and three times , Heaven knows I’m miserable now by the Smiths echoing through the dull room .

You were bored…sad and somewhat completely still confused by everything. You heard your bedroom door slowly open before a very breathless and..soaking wet Jeremy appeared.

“there she is..!”Jeremy pants out , “oh i’m so glad you’re here cause i’ve just had to fight the weirdest…” He stops , shaking himself as he laughs out , “i’m human like i’m actually breathing and stuff and i bruise and..oh my god i can actually leave this place ..”

You stare at him, leaving your bed to hug him, “missed you.”

“oh? yeah? i…uh…yeah…i missed you too but listen, baby…i just had to fight the weirdest guy over in..the underworld thing..? like he was not letting me leave but..uh i mean he did let me but-“ You cut him off , lips meeting with his as he freezes, pushing off for a moment.

“you’re warm..”

“yeah i’m alive again so i’m-…you kissed me.”

“yeah..? i missed you.”

“so are we like officially together now..since like…im human and not dead and like totally able to go on dates with you.”

You roll your eyes , pushing his head back to yours as you lead him onto the bed , his hands gripping your thighs as he leans over you, tongues dancing and lips hungrily smashing together. Your hands in his hair , he hums out occasionally; clearly dazed by everything and now the fact he was human and able to kiss his little human girlfriend without a care or a problem….well besides the problem brewing between his hips..

He lifts you a little higher, shifting himself between your thighs as he continues to kiss you , his hands wearily moving from your thighs and under your shirt causing a small hum to leave your lips…

“hm..” He stops for a moment, “i have missed this..”

“oh?” you stop, blinking at him as he hand slowly runs over your chest , your eyes half lidded as you stare at him

“i…i..not like that! i meant being a human…i wasn’t like some total manwhore…i mean this is the closest i’ve gotten to actually touching-…ill just…ill just shut up..”

You giggle at him, moving his head to rest on your chest as your fingers run through his wet hair , sighing out , “you worried me…”

“i know but trust me…i would never leave you..i chose to haunt you when i was a ghost and..i am so gonna haunt you now im alive….you’re gonna have to kill me to get me to leave ..” He smiles up at him, fingers drawing circles into your skin, eyes shining with softness and admiration once again as yours mirror his.

“i think id like it if you haunted me forever, jer…”

“yeah..?”

“mhm…”

You both settle , breathing matching as you stare at each other…mind at peace and body calm under his…you’d have this forever .

[akuma-coffee]

"i love you"

satoru gojo x reader

cw: kissing, fwb arrangement but no smut, suggestive? , light angst to comfort 2k words

gojo never stays the night.

granted, it's not like you've ever popped the question, but attempts have been made at keeping within the warm confines of your sheets. an arm wrapped around him, your head placed over his heart; yet he never seems to take the bait. the longest he's stayed with you is an hour, even going as far to snake an arm around your shoulders and pull you in close - but just as you were drifting off, he had to go. 

you did know what you were getting into, as even if it wasn't explicitly said, satoru isn't exactly known for his romanticism. if anything, he's known as an unstoppable force, an untouchable figure, with too much money and childish nature, often resulting in a little too much flamboyance. but it's all for show, because when he's tangled within your sheets, he's different. sweet.

sure, most of the time he's just fucking you for the fun of it, but sometimes he kisses you so tenderly and holds you so close that you're almost lulled into some kind of security with him, like you're his. unfortunately it always ends, and even if you hope and pray for some kind of development in your relationship, the next time he comes over it's all back to normal.

your phone's on silent, but you don't miss the notification on your screen. with pen in hand and papers to mark you almost ignore it, but face id means your screen's already unlocked, and you're able to see it's him - he's asking if you're free.  in truth, you aren't. you're supposed to be working late alongside shoko marking student reports, but for him you'll make yourself readily available by whatever means. 

"are you listening?" shoko sighs, and you don't glance up from your phone.  "sorry, i'm gonna have to have to go." you speak monotonously while preoccupied with thoughts of the man you're far too infatuated with, and it's a tone shoko knows all too well. her frown sets much deeper as your fingers glide over your keyboard to tell him you'll be a half hour. 

"please tell me you're not ditching me for satoru."

finally, your eyes set over hers. she wears her disapproval so thickly, and so shamelessly. if eyes could kill, ieiri's sure would. she lets out a lengthy breath before deciding you're more deserving of her pity than annoyance, slumping back against her chair. it groans as she moves.

"this thing you've got, it will end in tears."

"i know." you consider furthering the conversation and allowing more detail, letting her onto the fact that the snowy haired psycho is in fact different when in your presence, he's so much brighter, and kinder... but you decide against it almost as soon as the idea had popped into your mind. she'd probably just play therapist and deter you from your endeavour (of winning his heart), and you didn't want to hear her voice your deepest fears - that satoru doesn't feel the same way.

it's not a long journey home, and with the perks of teleportation satoru is able to get to you within a heartbeat. he's already pushing you toward the bed within minutes of being in your presence, his lips hungry against yours. his hands traverse the peak of your hips, dragging upward to the trough, conveniently slipping those fingers under your work shirt to grasp at the flesh beneath.

there's always a little bit of buffer time in your brain when he arrives, a minute or two needed to disconnect your racing brain and relax, to ignore that build up of nerves and focus on the present. you lay back on the mattress and he takes his place between your legs, your shirt already in a heap on the rug - but you're not able to shake those thoughts. you try to push it all down and lean into his touch, yet shoko's words still hang heavy. 

it must be that whatever ditch you would force these memories into had been crammed all too densely, because not only are you unable to shake this feeling of impending doom, you're also reminiscing on things you hadn't wanted to think about. late nights with satoru, laying beside him basking in the aftermath of your intimacy, and all the feelings that are tied to his presence. 

these memories weren't as neatly packed away as you'd thought. in fact, they're overflowing, and they're unforgiving. you realise now, you're in love with him. you know it as well as your own name. 

 his lips trail to your neck, blindfold still on. it tickles your skin. 

you think back to a moment a few months back, when this had all just begun. a simple gesture of ordering pizza when you'd known he hadn't eaten, a shared meal after you'd come down from your highs. he'd gone to leave, but of course you'd do anything to make him stay just that little bit longer. 

"for me?" you can still hear the way he'd asked when you brought through two boxes, and the way his expression softened. he watched you grow closer to the bed, his upper half nude and slouching on the headboard. you smiled, just as you always do with him, one of the boxes suddenly resting in his lap. the smugness you're used to had left him in that moment, and when you stuck the tv on, it felt natural. domestic. it was like the real him sat beside you that night, but after he'd eaten and the episode ended, he was gone.

satoru pulls back and you're shoved back into the real world, opening your eyes to the black fabric that envelops his face. it's impossible to read him when he's like this, though you're never able to ask him to remove it. your hands move up from the back of his neck and rest at the seam, and you stare at the cotton as if you're looking him in the eye. you wonder if you are, or if he's denying you that. 

"what's wrong?" he asks as if he's intrigued more than concerned, and you swallow, breaking your imaginary eye contact to look over his shoulders. they're bare, though you don't really remember helping him out of his shirt. "it's nothing." you try to pass it off as such, a weak curve of lips, but he doesn't drop it.  "just tell me." he's buttering you up with his gentle tone. you ignore him and tug on his head to bring him back to you, but satoru doesn't stop. 

"i'm just tired, that's all." there's silence following your statement, and he doesn't seem all that convinced, though after a few seconds tick by, he appears to have dropped whatever he was thinking.  "i'll go, then." there's something in his voice that you're unable to place a finger on, it's similar to disappointment, though not quite it. you swallow your pride. 

"i just," you drag your fingertips over the fabric. "was wondering if you'd take this off."   the playfulness returns, and you're a little tense, but he doesn't seem to notice.  "what, you don't like it?" he teases you, and you feign a smile in return.  "not here." you're hoping you sell your words well, otherwise he'll know you're feeling unnerved and likely leave. he stills and you tug at the fabric, brushing the longer strands of hair and scaling his undercut until the tightness finally gives and you're able to unwrap the blindfold. 

your heart picks up pace when his eyes are boring into you, very evidently judging your every move when you toss the unravelled cotton to one side. it's not often you're able to examine them so closely. they're both beautiful and intimidating, adorned with white lashes, swimming in the deepest hues of blue you've ever seen. 

"i love you." the words leave your lips before you've processed them, and your mouth suddenly casts a downward turn as you watch his eyebrows raise, and lips part. genuine surprise meddles with satoru's features. you grit your teeth and cower back into the mattress.  "that's a big word." his reply makes your heart sink from your chest to your stomach in a way it never has before. your eyes gloss over. 

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have said that." for a moments pass you think he's going to continue, he's quiet, and staring at your lips. but he doesn't, instead furthering the distance between you by pushing himself back onto his forearms and letting the air nip at your prickled skin. you've blown it, there's no way satoru is going to keep this going now. 

"it's alright." he appears distant in his expression and reply, yet doesn't get off of you. you're left to question what he's thinking.  "satoru?" his name rolls from your tongue so naturally. he let you call him that after your first hook-up, gojo was too impersonal. he'd been calling you by your first name long before that, though. 

"sorry." he looks hollow. "i haven't heard that in years." 

you furrow your brow and begin to ask what he'd meant by that, but the words fizzle out. shoko made vehemently clear you were never to mention geto's name in satoru's presence. his first, and only love. it's one of the few times you've also seen shoko so genuinely upset. 

"i'm so sorry." you voice again, though this time there's a dip in your voice. satoru looks as though he has re-entered the room when your words falter, and he's staring right at you with no mercy. he leans back toward you, connecting his lips to yours in a heartbeat with a loving and gentle movement. he's pressed against you so snugly you almost forget to breathe, his hand encasing your cheek so firmly it's as if he expects you to fall from his grasp and shatter. 

there's a warm droplet on your face and you tighten your eyes under the assumption it's one of your own tears - only you realise the placement isn't quite right. peering through half open lids you're able to see water pooling at satoru's lash line, just enough to blink away into a single tear. you place your palms over his shoulders to push him back, but he has already taken his lips from you, and instead placing his head at the nape of your neck. you slide your hands down and around, circling around his torso and squeezing. he sniffles, and although you know he won't cry in front of you, this is certainly close to it. 

"i didn't notice, i'm sorry." his words are spoken into that nook, and muffled by your skin. you close your eyes, exhaling.  "it's alright." from all of the ways you'd thought this might have gone, this wasn't it. you're doused in disappointment, it's like you've taken a dunk into a bath full of ice; it chills you to the bone. 

"i really..." he speaks slowly, tiptoeing around how he's about to phrase his confession. "jujutsu has a hold over us, you could never really have me."  "you're not just a sorcerer, satoru. you deserve to be loved." you feel heat in your nose as your own tears bubble, but you don't allow them to surface. instead, you're left with clouded vision and a runny nose as you stare up at your ceiling. you circle a thumb over satoru's back. "but, if you don't feel the same, it's okay." that's a lie, it would definitely not be okay, you'd want to set yourself on fire. "no, i do." your heart feels as if it's about to jump out of your chest. "but there's no curse more twisted than love." 

you loosen your grip and take his face back between your hands, pulling him back to have his face before your own.  "it's gonna be okay." you offer a small smile to accompany your words of comfort, and satoru wants to trust you. 

you glance down to your half dressed body, then back to him. "will you stay the night? we can order in, watch some tv." it's funny how you feel more exposed than ever while, in comparison to your past encounters, being decently covered. "we can start small." 

"yeah, okay." he pauses, before pushing off of the mattress. "i want pizza." there's no hiding the grin that seizes your face as you grab your phone, pulling up your favourite restaurant. 

[skitskatdacat63]

€21 shipping...I simply will not think about it 😄 ...also the currency conversion, it just took about five years off of my life

I opened insta to check if seb released his merch yet and it's literally the top post on my feed from 3 mins ago, I think this is a divine sign