#life before the doorway

[ttbret]

“Gabriel Rivers has just been through a messy breakup and is looking for a change of scene. Connor Hastings is an aspiring athlete hoping to get scouted by European leagues. When given the opportunity to audition for the latest season of Love Island, a UK reality dating show, the two of them take it. Little did Gabriel know that this show is criminally heterosexual. But not to worry, he's about to change that.”

I’ve been writing a summary/fic over on my Patreon based on original queer characters from our series “Life Before the Doorway”! I've had this AU floating around in my head for almost a year, and I've finally decided to do something about it. If you enjoy original queer media and would like to help support LGBTQ+ artists, I’d love if you’d consider joining and/ or checking out our series! We have all kinds of content on Patreon from bloopers to original writing to makeup tutorials, etc. These characters mean a lot to me, and we’ve put a lot of love into them, so I hope you enjoy! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

TT Bret Patreon

Sirussly Patreon

“Life Before the Doorway” (part 1 of our original series)

“Life in the Doorway” (part 2 of our original series)

[king-nyx]

Okay, yeah I'll rewatch Life Before the Doorway/Life in the Doorway and write some fics for it (most likely for Duke because that man has my whole heart). I love it.

[preciselythewrongmoment]

tumblr is mean and won't let me reply :(

hello, fellow Life in the Doorway enjoyer

hello!! This is very fun news by the way, I feel I’ve stumbled on another life form on the moon and we happen to be wearing the same hat :)

[madamescarlette]

You ever have to be like, "no babe you're not bone-breakingly heart-rendingly sad, you just had less than five hours of sleep"? Yeah.

[isa-ah]

been having some creepy stuff happen lately and who knows if it's paranormal or PTSD related ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[quotes-for-the-soul]

What was a gate anyway? A doorway, she thought. A portal. The possibility that you might walk through the door and reinvent yourself as something better than you had been before.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[marley-warriors]

I told myself yesterday was going to be a good day. Pep talk and all. Last week, the PTSD nearly destroyed me, so I promised this week would be better. XD

So anyway, I kissed the hospital floor yesterday. I was dragging a two-man trolley cart and then had to break the cart because of obstructions around the corner. But not without getting clipped in the heel by the trolley before failling flat to my face with the trolley nearly running over me. Even worse, every nurse in the ward just happened to be congregated there to witness my fall and rushed to my side as I tried to clamber away from the trolley. My ego is bruised, my knee, hand, and shoulder are also bruised, and I woke up with a deep chesty cough today, feeling sick as a dog.

At least it's not as bad as last week. Physical pain I can deal with, just give my brain a break pls xD

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Gojo having a brutal rivalry with your son.

You'd promise your now eighteen year old, "Sen, your father and I didn't part on bad terms. It would be nice if the two of you could get along."

Sentaro would scoff, crossing his arms and leaning in the kitchen doorway. "Strongest sorcerer in the world and couldn't protect his wife?" You touch a hand to the large burn mark on your chest. Sen watches the movement and shakes his head. "Like I could ever get along with a guy like that."

~

Imagine your son is the splitting image of his father, save for how his hair grows in black, then fades to white when it grows past the roots.

"You have my pretty face, but I don't know where you got such a shit attitude." Sen would be face to face with his dad while he was on business at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Satoru would look him up and down. "I know for a fact that your mom never taught you that."

Sen's face would contort into a look of disgust. "Don't act like you know her."

"I know her in ways no one else ever could--"

Uncle Suguru would be forced to intervene before everyone got to find out what happens when two hollow purples collide.

~

Imagine Satoru still loves you - he never stopped, of course - and visits you at the house while your son is on a mission.

"You miss me, don't you, mama?" he'd murmur in your ear while he has you crowded up against the living room wall. "You have a little mini me running around, so I bet you think about me all the time, huh?"

He'd be right of course, but life was so hard for you and your son after the divorce that you're reluctant to start up anything again. You'd always love Satoru, but you hadn't seen enough of him to know if he'd changed since you were last together. That said, it's hard to remain rational when the love of your life presses his lips to yours.

You won't get enough time to consider, however, since your ex will have been ripped away from you and sent flying through the opposite wall. Your son, just as tall as his dad, will be standing protectively in front of you, fists clenched tight.

Sen wouldn't look at you when you gently touch his broad back in an attempt to calm him down.

"Don't get too close, mom," he'd say with gritted teeth. "The old man's about to learn he's not the strongest any more."

~

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[flovverworks]

THE HOODIE JEANS COMBO IS KILLLIINNGG MMEEEEEEEEEEE.......STARES AT WHAT MANGA AKIRAS WEARING......STAGE AKIRA TOO......i can respect going 'i refuse to draw something layered + a backpack for the teaser when theyre gonna change clothes asap anyway' (proceeds to draw something floofy). sorry im gonna obsess over the first one for the next year. have never been more charmed in my entire life i love them (pushes murr out of the way)

felt like a fraud if i didnt include the cats. augh mhyk & handholding..........<-also something that consistently comes up

[ttbret]

Connor Hastings is excited to start his first year of college as a Pacific Seas University star athlete, but nothing has prepared him for what life with his eccentric – and incredibly queer – roommate, Gabriel Rivers, has in store.

If you enjoy original queer stories created by queer artists FOR queer audiences, you might like the series my wife and I created for TikTok!

[king-nyx]

Collecting Tiktok miniseries like pokemon

[watermotif]

So,​ your life. There it is before you – possibly a road, a ribbon, a dotted line, a map – let’s say you’re 25, then you make some decisions, do things, have setbacks, have triumphs, become someone, a bus driver, a professor of Indo-European linguistics, a pirate, a cosmetologist, years pass, maybe in a family maybe not, maybe happy maybe not, then one day you wake up and you’re seventy. Looking ahead you see a black doorway. You begin to notice the black doorway is always there, at the edge, whether you look at it or not. Most moments contain it, most moments have a sort of sediment of black doorway at the bottom of the glass. You wonder if other people are seeing it too. You ask them. They say no. You ask why. No one can tell you.

A minute ago you were 25. Then you went ahead getting the life you want. One day you looked back from 25 to now and there it is, the doorway, black, waiting.

— anne carson, gloves on!

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[the-melancholic-human]

I am in love with the thought of simon riley being a grumpy snobby nobleman who marries a boorish reckless girl that’s just a ray of sunshine

Simon views marriage as a way to protect his legacy, a way to carry out his high esteem bloodline, he views marriage as a financial decision, after all he’s in his late thirties now and he’s not getting any younger, a few silver strands of hair that decorate his dirty-blonde hair prove that fact

As much as he hates the thought of tolerating a woman who will stick to him for the rest of his life like an unwanted disease, he knows that it’s for the best, he needs heirs to protect his fortune after his death

And so he needs to find a wife as soon as possible, he can not marry a woman from a noble family, from what he has seen so far, noble women are more demanding, they’re constantly in need for attention and because they are used to living lavish lives they tend to be careless with money, he knows that if he marries a noble woman her family would constantly ask to visit her and that means even more unnecessary social events simon must attend, and so he has to search elsewhere for a wife

But he has a plan, instead of going for a woman with high status, he’ll just marry one of the girls that live in the village, and wouldn’t you know it, one of his farmers was more than glad to marry off his daughter to the duke for some quick cash

And a week later, the girl is standing on the porch of his manor holding her suitcase, looking like a lost puppy, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt nervously as she’s waiting for someone to invite her into her new home

Instead of her husband opening the door to her, kissing her cheeks and giving her a warm hug, there’s the mean old lady that does the cooking for the riley manor, standing in front of her in the doorway

And as soon as the poor girl drops off her old ugly suitcase at her bedroom (and simon’s bedroom ofc) she’s running barefoot in the garden to catch a lizard

Now picture this, simon jumps off his stallion in the evening, waiting for his new “wife” to come greet him when he hears screams from the garden, so he runs to the garden to make sure everything is okay, and the scene before him is just unbelievably peculiar:

A young beautiful girl, running around the garden, her underskirt shoved into her belt, her feet covered in mud, and her hair an absolute mess, chasing the old maid with a lizard in her tiny soft hands

And when she runs up to simon, holding up the slimy creature to show it to her new husband, simon is just fucking in love.

Part 2 is here btw:

[alexiroflife]

"babysitting"

fluff, crack

Synopsis: that time you were babysitting your niece when sukuna came home...

to sum it up: sukuna is such a dad but doesn't know it yet

WC: 1,218

Warning(s): none

“What the fuck is that?”

You look up to see Sukuna standing in the doorway, a twisted snarl on his face as he glares harshly at the object within your grasp. You raise your brows, momentarily surprised by his arrival, and give him a soft smile. 

“Hi, Kuna,” you greet happily, ignoring his question. “I didn’t know you were gonna be back so soon.”

“Answer my question, woman,” he growls, looking almost disgusted by the sight before him. “What is that?”

He points one of his burly arms to you, and you look down at the cooing seven-month-old in your embrace, bouncing up on your knee as you sit on the floor just before Sukuna’s large bed. The baby gargles, hand stuffed into her mouth as drool dribbles down her fist, a thoughtless smile rising onto her small lips.

“She’s my niece,” you tell him, smoothing your thumb lovingly over the baby’s shirt, inspiring a small giggle and a senseless babble. You smile. “Isn’t she so cute?”

“It’s vile,” Sukuna grimaces and you frown. “Why is that beast in my temple?”

“Sukuna, be nice,” you roll your eyes. “She’s just a baby, and my sister needed some help looking after her for a few hours.”

“And you felt prompted to bring it here?”  he scrunches his nose. 

“Her, and where else would I be?” 

“As long as you’re carrying that creature, you must be anywhere else but here,” he grumbles, turning dismissively to leave the room. “I want it gone.”

“What?!” you exclaim, moving to stand with the baby resting on your hip. You walk over to your boyfriend, touching your soft hand to his large back to keep him from leaving. Sukuna peers over his shoulder angrily, four eyes squinting down at the two of you. “Come on, Sukuna! At least admit how adorable she is. Look at this precious little face.”

You squish gently at the baby’s cheeks and her fist falls from her mouth, big round eyes scrunching as a giddy beam rises to her rosy cheeks. All Sukuna can see, however, is the slobber shining over her chin and on her hand. “I do not understand what you are requesting of me,” he says coldly, eying the child as though she carries the plague. “Is it incapable of keeping its saliva inside of its mouth?”

“She’s teething,” you say flatly.

“What?”

“Her teeth are coming in soon, it stimulates drooling.”

Sukuna’s face of disgust grows more exaggerated, leaning his head back with curled lips. “Like an animal?”

Your face drops as you stare at him boredly. “Yes, Sukuna. Like an animal. All humans did it at one point.”

“Do you mean to inform me that you engaged in such a disgusting act when you were in this stage of life?”

“...Yes?”

He clicks his tongue, now eying you with an air of suspicion. “Good to know,” he says rather judgmentally.

The thought crosses your mind to point at that your boyfriend was at some point a human too, but you decide against it.

“Sukuna,” you groan. “Aside from the drool, she’s such a precious little thing. You have to agree, right?” you coo. You look down at the baby to grin childishly at her, tucking your finger under her chin and tapping her slightly, hardly tickling at her body but arising a few more giggles nonetheless. You babble meaningless sounds, speaking to her in a playful voice that Sukuna has never heard from you before.

Though still thoroughly confounded as to why you want him to take interest in this little animal, his eyes catch the way you soften for the child, how your eyes light and a sense of maternity takes you as you speak to the baby as though you know just what to say, drawing out toothless grins and thrilled gibberish. His brow twitches involuntarily, something within him almost enjoying the sight before him. You’re so good with this creature. Have you always been like this?

“What language are you speaking with it?” he suddenly asks gruffly, causing you to pause and look up at him as your niece reaches her small hands up to your cheek. 

“With her,” you correct again. “And I’m not speaking any language, I’m just playing around,” you chuckle slightly. Sukuna stares harshly now, examining the movements of the half developed human in your arms as she curiously taps against your face.

Suddenly catching wind of his presence, the baby’s head turns to him and her eyes grow bigger. She cries out excitedly, reaching her arms out to Sukuna with grasping tiny fingers. Sukuna falters, confused.

“What is she doing?” he asks urgently, and you laugh.

“She wants you to hold her,” you say softly.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Kuna,” you pout. “Please? Just for two seconds.”

“I said no, you brat.”

“Pleaseeeee? Pretty pretty please, my king?”

You give him the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster, and when he looks between the two of you, your expressions almost match. Sukuna feels something in his resolve crumble, incapable of truly denying you though he tries his best to still appear as though you give him a hard time. 

With an agitated sigh, he reaches his upper set of arms to grab the child as you lift her up and hand her to him. “Two seconds,” he growls and your eyes sparkle with anticipation.

He holds the baby up before him, watching as her little feet dangle and kick around in her onesie as he grasps her from under her arms. His hands practically consume her entire frame, her fingers still reaching out to him curiously, joyfully.

The king of curses continues to glare, brow cocked while he tries to decide what is so special about it. Perhaps he can understand what you find to be “cute.” The baby’s got big chubby cheeks and huge doe eyes that almost remind him of you, and she’s so comically tiny it makes him want to laugh. 

He grunts softly as he pulls the baby in closer, complying with her unspoken request displayed by her constant reaching. She touches her little slobber-less hand on his forehead, touching softly at the plate structure on the right side of his face. Sukuna imagined himself to be a bit more perturbed by the contact, but finds himself unbothered, allowing the child to trace his features with innocent exploration.

You watch with your hands to your mouth, hiding your bright smile. The sight before you is just so adorable, you wish you could take a picture but you know that Sukuna would be quick to crush your phone in an instant if he caught you.

Sukuna finally pulls the child away, watching her grin happily. He hands her back to you and crosses his arms. “What is her purpose?” he questions, and you give him a strange look, adjusting the baby back on your hip as she plays with your hair. 

“She has no purpose. She’s a baby.”

“She is too young to work? To serve?”

“Wh- yes?!”

“Very well,” he nods. “She may stay for another hour.”

“...But my sister isn’t free for another two hours.”

“Two hours, and if she isn’t gone by then, tell her in her native tongue that I will be eating her fingers for dinner.”