#this song is so gojo

[caterpillareyelashes]

Behind the canyon of my ego, I know it’s just my sadness

Crashin’, makin’ memories of madness

Laughin’ so hard I can’t stand it

Classic, all i’m good at is ruining you

[gojosbf]

Start Here, Caitlyn Siehl // The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller // The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller // Unknown // The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller // Passanger, Alexandra Bracken (a.k.a Heartbreaker) // I wrote this for you, Iain Thomas // These Violent Delights, Micah Nemerever // jjk the light novel translation // The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller // The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller // Elegy, Chen Chen// the playwrights will write your names in the darkness of the sky

[rizsnt]

take me to war, honey i dare you

[tonitart]

🎶Just meet me at the~🎶

Karaoke is fun with them🤣

[candyqangel]

jjk will actually be the end of me

[maplesleep]

the ol' switcharoo

[riaki]

OKAY EVERYONE IS SAYING GOJO DOESN'T DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING YES

BuT what if we could make it a little ANGSTY instead?? 👀 He gets his happy ending. His. Happy ending. You? Well.. Old habits die hard. This is what you wanted after all no? So what if he breaks his promises? What if your smile begins to fade? What if

What you said about later on reader and freckles growing apart cause freckles seemed nice it'd be a shame for him to be an ass

But that it's silly cause the irony is what if that freckle boy.. was just like Gojo but in a different light.

Being as it wasn't him who hurt reader, it was easy to overlook the fact of how similar he was to the old Gojo she knew before it became a shit show

Maybe she realizes that

Maybe she starts thinking

Maybe she drifts apart

And maybe Gojo comforts her but he's the last person she wants to see

Because it's these stupid feelings for Gojo that led her to this hell

And Gojo goes again

And he reels her in

And once he has her

Only to see as her smile begins to fade

As all the effort he had put in when he didn't have her start going away once again

And he starts to fall into old habits becoming the same as he was before, but this time, with you at his hand

As he slowly takes away your smiles again.

But it's okay, he'll make it right. Just...later. and later. And later...

You hope.

sorry I'm not good with angst sorry for any cringe 🤣

this is!! such!!! a good!!!! take!!!!!! on hsbully!gojo!!!!!! tbh this ask speaks for itself lol n dw anon! i rlly love the way u brought it :3 this is highschoolbully!gojo part 592727465527 *suggestive!

yeah. freckles boy isn’t that great of a person. maybe he tried but it didn’t work out; u dunno why but u keep seeing gojo in him— hints of satoru in ur life. like that stinky cologne he thinks is kinda cool but rlly doesn’t smell too good on ur bfs drawer, or the way he takes his coffee. honestly, if u squint, it almost seems like freckle boy is tryna copy gojo in a way…? but u don’t like thinkin abt him so u don’t blink an eye.

fast forward u broke up with freckle boy because something or other; the point is, u really didn’t feel anything with him. there might’ve been a spark, but it was really only artificial and had no wind to fan the flames. and since u got together gojo’s been distant; his smile seems dimmer and there’s always this faraway; foggy look that makes the brilliant azure of his eyes seem cloudy gray. but then ur catching up with him again and at some random frat party you get drunk and ur sense is inhibited and— u end up kissing gojo… oops.

so then u kinda enter this fwb state with him. and.. he’s pretty cool, right? he’s kinda evrything u want in a guy— tall, pretty, cool, strong, handsome, charming— it’s a package deal. but there’s also this… rift, between the two of you. see, ever since gojo lost u the first time, he’s always been so scared of pushing u away. so u stay fwb because he doesn’t wanna lose u again in case he’s feelin more than you are. but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he sleeps with other girls and his chest doesn’t tighten like it does with u when he gets mouthfuls of fruity gloss from kissing other girls. but he forces himself to keep this wall up between the two of u because he just can’t risk losing you a third time.

it sucks for u too, though! gojo’s just a bit too dense to see it. whether it’s in his own nature, or he’s faking it. it’s probably the latter, but that’d mean he’s not being genuine again, n you don’t wanna think about it. but you’re gettin comfy with him and so is he, and you really do whole heartedly believe he’s changed this time, and for good. and it’s true! he has. but not in the way you thought. apparently, he’s exchanged being an ass with an unreachable ego to a pinch more genuine, but still an ass. it’s proved when u get to his apartment one rainy day ready to spend the weekend w/ him for a study date, but there’s clothes on the floor. dresses n stockings and a frilly blouse that you definitely think (or hope) don’t belong to gojo. unfortunately, your suspicions are confirmed when you lay eyes on the tangle of people on his bedroom through the crack in the door— this time, it’s your turn to run in a hurry. turns out, he got comfortable with you�� all in the wrong way, thinking it’d be okay to sleep around. except he gives chase— after pulling on a pair of pants, of course.

eventually he catches up to you; you hate those stupidly long legs. catches your wrist and forces you to face him. in front of a chick fil a, nonetheless. he gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu— but he’s forcibly snapped out of it when je realizes you’re crying. and damn, you look gorgeous, and he wishes it would rain because the sunlight falls around you like liquid gold, framing your pretty face and reflecting prisms of rainbow in your tears.

once again, he doesn’t get it. why are you crying? it’s not like you were really serious or labeled, right…? and the entire reason you’d stayed that way was to avoid somethin like this. but gojo slowly comes to the realization that he’s fucked up big time— he has been since day 1. really, he should’ve found somebody cheaper to chase— you stole his heart and his pride, making him awkwardly and stiffly apologize to you in front of a fast food restaurant on some random crossing next to a train station. it’s only tense because he doesn’t really know how to apologize— he doesn’t have much experience with it, and for that he blames his ego.

but even so, he’s not ready for those big, sappy love confessions yet. you always made him feel so weird— correction: you still do. so you walk away somewhere between fwb and strangers. it’s always one step forward and two steps back with gojo. but maybe, just maybe— he can slowly rebuild your trust with some patience, empathy, and a lot of genuine love that he’s yet to realize he’s been nursing in his heart for you since the first time he laid eyes on you.

paaaaaaart one

[madaqueue]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU

playlists | 'do i wanna know' x hozier

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

themes/content: angst. alcohol consumption, a not-great breakup, sometimes you don't have to say 'i love you' to know it. 18+ MDNI (wk: 1.5k)

a/n: maybe putting this man in a situation will get me out of my writer's block

“Hi, baby,” Satoru’s slurred voice crackles through the speaker, cold metal held to your ear.

At least through the shitty phone you refuse to upgrade, he can’t hear your sigh from the other end. “Where are you?”

“I’m not telling,” he sing-songs, ending with a hiccup he can’t quite stifle.

Not that his answer really matters, only half playing through the otherwise-silent bedroom. You’re already up, groggily pulling on sweatpants and palming for the shape of your keys, lit by the tiny screen blinking his name.

“Well, don’t go too far. I’m on my way.” You hang up before he can complain (not that he would - if you had stayed on the call for a second longer, you would have heard the contented sigh slipping from his lips, a quiet ‘thank you’ that his microphone might have missed).

The bar is sticky and hot, uncomfortable at any time, but especially at 1:30 a.m. when you should be at home under soft sheets and moonlight. Shedding your coat does little to fix the air clinging to your skin like a vice as your eyes scan past neon lights, parsing through the blaring music for something familiar. A flash of white across the room, and your steps fall in a straight line.

When you place your hand between his shoulder blades (gently, of course - you know he startles easily), he manages to pull his head from the haven of his elbows, a temporary shelter along the wooden countertop.

“You came.” His grin is wild and unruly, only half there, but his eyes pierce through you all the same. You’ve always felt too bare under them; you tug your jacket on.

“Let’s go, Satoru.”

He doesn’t protest as you loop one arm around his torso, and lets you pull him to his feet. It’s always a bit of a balancing act to get him through the door, his lanky limbs colliding with yours, his shoes heavier than the rest of his body. Drunken giggles tumble into your ear from where his head rests atop yours, watching you kick his ankles away to keep him upright.

“Were you born with two left feet or something?” you grumble to yourself, muffled by the screeching chatter encasing you.

“Don’t think so,” he says earnestly. With a slow glance downward, he hums. “Nope. Right and left.”

You scoff to hide the giggle that threatens to escape. You wish he wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t charm you and force a smile, wouldn’t make you ache with forgiveness.

The night air is cold and welcome, finally letting your lungs expand fully for the first time in what feels like days, in spite of Satoru’s crushing weight on your shoulders. Opening his door first, he falls into the seat, enveloped by the familiar cloth, and you fasten his seatbelt before stepping into the driver’s side. In the confined space of the car, the smell of alcohol lingers on his breath, slowly making its way towards you, and you sniffle. The engine hums as you drive, roads and turns you know better than the veins coursing below your skin, ones that tingle under a watchful gaze.

With a quick glance, you find Satoru’s eyes lazily fixed on your own.

“You’ve got a staring problem,” you state.

“Just admiring the view.”

The thrum of your pulse picks up. You resent it.

“I still love you, y’know.”

The leather covering of the steering wheel creaks below your tightening grip. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was teasing, playing coy, pushing your buttons until he finds the one that makes you force him out along the highway. Unfortunately, you know it’s genuine.

“Because.” You exhale. “Because you broke up with me.”

A groan is muffled beneath his palm, rubbing into his skin as if he could wipe the words away. It was mutual, you told your friends, who took it well, your parents, who didn’t, as you tried to hide the familiar stinging in your eyes, as though you hadn’t just emerged from the bathroom where the water ran cold from scrubbing salt stains off your cheeks.

“It doesn’t make it any less true.” When he’s forced to hear the click of the turn signal too many times against the silence, he continues. “And I didn’t wanna break up with you.”

Ah, his favorite excuse. It makes you grimace at the bitter taste rising in the back of your throat. ‘I don’t want this either,’ he said as you screamed and cried in his arms, as he held you until the worst of the shaking was over. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

“Whatever,” you acquiesce (he’ll never shut up if you don’t give him something to cling to).

(He only feels sane when he hears your voice. The silence aches for it; it tears at him from the inside out. If his agony could sound like you, he’d suffer like this forever.)

Before he can beg for more, his door opens. You reach across his waist to undo the seatbelt and toss his arm over your shoulders again.

In his hazy mind, he wonders how many times you’ve done this - he never really remembers this part, so it makes it hard to count. But there’s a fluidity as you shuffle towards the garage, punching in a code he never dared to change, as you wait the three seconds for it to rise just above his head and maneuver him inside.

And of course he doesn’t have to guide you towards the bedroom (he has to call it that now, ‘the’ bedroom; he thinks you got upset with him for calling it ‘our’ bedroom once, but that’s foggy, too).

With a huff you toss him onto the bed, every muscle uncoordinated, too out of it to scramble for the shreds of his dignity. Instead, he watches silently as you untie his shoes, unlatch his belt, unbutton his shirt. Even in just his boxers he doesn’t feel bare, not under your eyes, ones too gentle to cut.

“There’s water on the bedside table, and I put some crackers there, too. Please eat them.”

“M’sorry.”

“What?” You try to ignore the way your throat burns, the way your legs can’t move.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“Satoru, what-”

“That’s why.” When he finally removes the arm that had been shielding his face, those bright blue eyes are dull, clouded with tears. “That’s why I - hic - fucked it up. I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. I love you so much and I wasn’t strong enough.” I couldn’t risk anything happening to you, I was too dangerous, I would have gotten you hurt. I should have protected you, he wants to say, but the words get stuck in the thickness at the back of his tongue.

Some part of you, a part you tried to crush and kill and bury, claws its way out. You sit at the edge of the bed and rub his arm.

“It’s okay. I loved you, too.”

Loved. What a wretched thing past tense is. He wants to scream.

“No!” he cries, the sound weak and cracked. “I can’t…I can’t do anything but this, but love you. You’re the only one. And I ruined it.”

He makes no move towards you, curling into himself instead, sucking everything in until you’re captured by it, too. Your hands cradle his face, and let the tears spill over your fingers.

“I’m sorry I called you.”

The sobs have started to quiet, his breathing becoming less labored. He’s shaking less, now, with your skin on his.

“It’s okay.”

Your fingertips travel along his jaw, and you try to ignore how beautiful he looks with tears catching under the moonlight, how the comforter is stained darker beneath his cheeks. You try to ignore the way this hurts worse than any wound could, that you would have rather be killed for loving him than suffer through losing him. You try to ignore the way your heartbeat slows with your skin on his.

Through parted lips, his sleep-laden sighs fall steadier. His forehead is warm beneath your lips.

His protection is a funny thing, you’ve grown to realize. Maybe it’s his upbringing, or his job or his role or something else that has infiltrated and woven its way into his mind, but he seems to get it all twisted up, entangled in the ropes of it. How funny, to protect someone by alienating them; how funny, to make them watch as you destroy yourself.

But you don’t mind. Not really, not when you get to brush damp strands of hair from his neck, when you get to pull the blankets up to his shoulders and watch the soft sheets tickle his skin.

You don’t mind that you’ll always have a space in your heart with his absence carved out of it, that you’ll always leave your keys on the bedside table, that you’ll always come back, even if you’re crawling, your hands and knees will carry you to him. You have to protect him too, after all.

Softly, you whisper, “I’ll always answer your calls.”

[mothmanavenue]

fellas is it gay to choose to die on the same day as your one and only?

[celestie0]

childhood friends to lovers with gojo.

warnings/tags. fluff & angst, sad ending

you two were five when he kisses ur cheek on the playground underneath the slide n you both thought that counted as a first kiss. u two were attached by the hip all throughout elementary school, i mean srs, your parents would even have joint parent teacher conferences bc there was just nothing the two of you wouldn't do together.

and then middle school came around, you joined the marching band n he joined the football team. he starts acting different around you, and it hurts. bc you two were best friends. you were always supposed to be best friends. he starts hanging out w the popular kids, and you find yourself walking home alone. summer before high school, he wants to hang out again, but you tell him you deserve better than that. and you two drift apart.

it's hard starting high school without him, watching him from afar during lunch in the cafeteria. he's with his table of phonies, acting like someone he's not, and you know because you've always known him. better than anyone else. you really wanna join the cheer team, since you've done gymnastics for a long time, but you've always been too afraid to tryout for the team. this time, you do, and you get in. now all of a sudden he wants to talk to you again, now that you're popular in high school and have earned a place on the field during his games. fuck that, you say to him, you threw away what we had just because i wasn't good enough for you to have by your side. you start dating his teammate, you two are nominated for prom queen & king, and he has to watch as you kiss someone else on stage when you win. someone that should've been him. he starts dating the cheer captain, just to show it off when he comes running to her after a winning game, kissing her right in front of you but he's not looking at her, he's looking at you. to make sure you're watching. and you do the same thing to him. and the whole time you two are wondering what are we doing to one another?

summer after high school, he shows up to your doorstep one day on his skateboard. with a box full of all the letters you used to send him as a kid. you still have yours too, somewhere tucked underneath your bed. you spend the whole afternoon laughing with him as you read through them all, laying on the carpet of your living room, and you both feel like kids again. he hovers over you when he kisses you, but you're still mad at him, and to show him how mad you are, you kiss him back. it's no use, you two are going to different colleges, you'll hardly see him, but he swears he'll call. he swears he'll fly to see you. he swears he'll never makes the same mistakes again, because he wants you. and only you. you kiss his cheek, and say okay.

and he does. he does everything he promises you. but the distance is too hard, and he was a little too late. you break up with him over a twenty-one character text sent while you're drunk at a house party your second semester at university, and he just doesn't understand. he'll never understand. and he never sees you again.

until you're both thirty-two, standing in line at the grocery store. he taps your shoulder, you turn around, you wonder if it's a stranger who wants a favor, and you realize he's so much more than that. he's the little boy that kissed your cheek underneath the slide when you were five. your first kiss. except it wasn't, was it? his face is long, and his cheeks have lost plush, but he looks so handsome it makes your heart skip a beat. you two are pleasant, exchanging it's been so long! and you look great! but when his eyes catch the twinkle of the wedding ring on your finger, his smile drops ever so slightly, and when he scratches his cheek to hide the sadness, you notice a band on his finger too. and he pays for your groceries, just to be kind. and you thank him for it, just to be kind. and you go your separate ways, never to speak again. but there's a box that still sits somewhere in your closet. and a similar one still sits in his too.

[embarrassinglastwords]

“you’re my best friend, now i’ve no one to tell how i lost my best friend”

“you believe me like a god, i destroy you like i am.

i’m sorry i’m the one you love, no one will ever love me like you again

so when you leave i should die. i deserve it, don’t i?”

“your low warm voice curses as you find the strength to strike within me that rings out a note heard in heaven”

“you know i’d always been alone till you taught me to live for somebody.

that love is like a star. it’s gone, we just see it shining cause it travelled very far. keep a leftover light burning so you can keep looking up.”

(PT 1 of this for anyone interested)

(and if anyone’s interested here’s a playlist as well as just a normal stsg playlist)

[rikugans]

Oso Oso - Track 1, Side A

[kunikidas-lost-glasses]

Okay but Gojo raised two children at 17/18 alone with like zero experience on how to be a good parent while he was training to become the strongest and shortly after loosing his best friend who had also been the one he had been in love with in one of the most horrendous and cruel ways possible all while keeping up an incredibly cheerful and carefree personality.

You can't tell me that this man wasn't emotionally, mentally and probably also physically exhausted during that time.

[kvohru]

sweet nothing | s. gojo x reader

in which gojo satoru and the reader cuddle to sleep. they're so in love. was written as a fem reader but im pretty sure it could also be seen as gender neutral!

Lazy days — like today — were your favourite. Those mid-autumn days where the summer heat finally broke and made way for a chilly breeze, and the sky looked a cool white instead of bright blue. The quiet clicking sound of your typing floated through the air in your otherwise quiet room, and along with the faraway sound of the shower running, aided in the creation of a quaint atmosphere.

Time went by, and just as you were finishing up your work on your laptop, you heard the shower turn off, and the distinct creaking of the hinges on your shower cabin door. With an exhausted groan, you decided you'd worked enough for today, and you stood up from your chair, stretching your sore body. Your head pounded as you turned around and walked towards the king-size bed you shared with your boyfriend, and the moment you were close enough, you let your body fall into the bed.

The relief was so acute you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips, your whole body melting into the Purple mattress your boyfriend convinced you to buy earlier that year. Gosh, who knew your mattress quality would have that big of an effect on your quality of life? Well, Satoru clearly did.

“Hey.” The sound of his voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you tiredly turned your head to the other side to look at him. Satoru, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a white towel on his shoulders, was shutting the bathroom door, steam escaping through the small crack. “You done?” he asked, lifting the towel around his neck to his hair and quite aggressively drying it.

You had half a mind to remind him how damaging towel fibers were for his hair, but, remembering the fact that his hair remained silky regardless of anything, you forewent the thought.

You didn't respond to his question immediately, your eyes idly roaming over his body from top to bottom. From the wet, white hair that was falling over those brilliant blue eyes of his, to the wide expanse of pale skin and taut muscles. “Hm?” he prompted, movements lithe as he walked to the vanity and uncapped his leave in conditioner — the only hair maintenance product you could convince him to use.

Your eyes automatically followed his movements, now meeting his in the mirror as you adjusted yourself and climbed into bed properly, albeit with no real intention of falling asleep. He seemed to have that effect on you. Like a sunflower turning towards its namesake, no matter where he went, you always gravitated towards him, both consciously and unconsciously.

“Yeah,” you responded eventually and grabbed the fantasy novel you were in the middle of, “there wasn't too much to do, anyway.”

He hummed in response, raking his product-coated hands into his hair before shaking it out. With effort, your eyes slid away from his and focused onto the open book in your lap, and you let yourself be taken away by the intricate world woven by the words of your favourite author.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A few hours went by, and despite having ‘no real intention of falling asleep’, you fell asleep. Shocker.

It was now a little later in the day, the sun no longer cresting the sky, but rather melting into the horizon, the priorly pale gray sky turning varying shades of purple, pink and orange.

“Babe, do you think—” Satoru started, turning his gaze away from his phone, where he'd been checking his emails, to you, whom he was laying in bed next to, his (still shirtless) body angled towards yours. He had his phone in one hand, while the other was resting over your shoulder, idly playing with the ends of your hair. His question dissolved on his tongue at the sight of you asleep, eyes shut with your lashes fanning over your cheeks and lips ever so slightly parted, making way for soft breaths.

His own lips stretched into an amused grin, dimples etched into his cheeks. “I'm not gonna fall asleep, ’Toru,” he muttered, repeating your words from earlier. “I'm just gonna lay down!” He grabbed the book you had left open on your stomach and slipped the bookmark — that one the two of you had DIYed a few months ago (yes, he has a matching one) — back into it.

He turned the paperback over in his hand, long fingers splayed over the 500-page behemoth. It was by an author he'd seen you read numerous times, that one you had a whole shelf dedicated to. With a hum, he turned to place the book on his bedside table.

He twisted his torso away from you, that innate need for physical closeness to you keeping the rest of his body fixed in its spot. His defined obliques rippled with the motion, and he released a quiet noise from the back of his throat as he stretched to put the book down.

Straining to push it further with his fingers, as soon as Gojo was sure it was a safe distance away from the edge, he turned back to you, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. Your arms, which were loosely folded in front of your chest, pressed against his hard chest when he pulled you into him, and you instinctively nuzzled closer, drawn by his body heat and the faint smell of his cologne.

He pushed his phone away before resting his hand on your upper back, his thumb rubbing unceasing circles between your shoulder blades, and he reached down to kiss the top of your head. Only lightly, though, he reminded himself, since he didn't want to wake you up.

One kiss turned into two, and he used his unoccupied hand to push away a strand of hair from your face to press his lips to your forehead, before the two kisses turned into three and the three into four.

He pressed another tender kiss to your temple, and you, despite his best efforts at remaining gentle, stirred in his arms, your eyes flitting back and forth underneath your eyelids. He cursed under his breath, mentally chiding himself before brushing a stray curl away from your face and whispering a soft, “Sorry, baby.”

You made a soft humming noise but, thankfully, didn't wake up, only rested your head against his arm. He let himself relax against you, content in watching you sleep while playing with your hair, and eventually, his eyes fell closed and he drifted off with the feeling of your soft, warm skin against his.

Man, lazy days were his favourite.

[teddybeartoji]

gojo goes to watch a cabaret show with his friends and ends up being so awestruck by you. you catch his eye immediately, shining so brightly in the center of the stage – how could satoru miss you? a big, big cocky smile and a wink into the crowd and he's already ready to fall to his knees before you. shoko has to punch his shoulder bc he's literally starting to levitate towards the stage????

he's already in love with your saccharine voice and the way you move, the way you carry yourself. he's not the only one that's abdolutely captivated, the whole room is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky during your solo performance.

but now we all know how angelic satoru looks... it's impossible to not notice him in the shadowy crowd. when you lock eyes with him and sing a line to him – he's ready to explode. he feels giddy like a child, so honored and excited from the slightest piece of attention from you.

and he just keeps coming back. he's seen every single one of the shows you're in because he's just so obsessed. after one of the shows he happens to find you outside as you're just taking a fresh breath of air. he contemplates whether he's gonna say "hi" or not because he understands that a fan meeting after the long and tiring show could be a bit much. but then your eyes meet and his breath is hitching. you give him a warm smile and give him a soft "hi" yourself. you motion for him to come closer and you ask him what he thought of the show. he ofc ends up kind of rambling about all of the ones he has seen and you can't help but think that he's just soooo cute.

the conversation flows so well that you kind of forget how tired your body is and you decide to give him your number. the tips of his ears are so red bc omfg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you're giving him your number and he didn't even have to ask for it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what the fuck!!!!!!!!!! suguru will never believe him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but nevertheless he pulls himself together and promises to take you on a cute little coffee date with a dopey smile on his face<333333333333

+ ofc u can imagine whatever kind of performances for this buttttttttt i have two very specific ones in my mind that i think satoru would love so much hehehe

sweet transvestite - like c'mon you know he'd eat this shit up. he has the biggest fucking grin on his face bc it's so funny and so entertaining (and hot) and it's just the kind he likes.

big spender - aaaaaaaaaaaa this one is sooo cool i love it and i think he would love it too. he'd love the outfits and the seductive tone. and i think he'd love it for the fact that you're literally singing abt a rich guy and........................ he is literally the big spender in question lmao i think this one would make his ego grow a little i won't lie.

[maplesleep]

Happy Halloween!! 🎃🎃