Oh My Gosh, Hiii! I Recently Discovered Your Blog And I've Been Lurking, But I Needed To Say This: Your

oh my gosh, hiii! i recently discovered your blog and i've been lurking, but i needed to say this: your work gives me life! you are super duper talented and i'm so so glad i found you!

hope you have a great day!! 🩵🩵

AHHH I was literally just thinking about messaging you, I have seen your rbs and I wanted to thank you because your tags/comments always make me feel so good.

So, without further ado: thank you! Seriously. This made me so incredibly happy. Please lurk for as long as you please <3

gojo is the typa guy who puts on a pair of plastic fangs with a normal outfit and calls it a costume (no one calls him out bc they’re kinda sexy on him)

A Prologue to the End

Nanami x Reader

in which nanami has time to warn you, the love of his life, that he might not be coming home at the end of this.

taking place in a slightly altered timeline, I suppose

Word Count: 1500

Content Tags: Angst!! Obviously. With a hint of comfort. Implied talk of death. Established relationship. One kiss. Me very clearly not being okay.

Note: I don’t think that Nanami would ever let himself get into a relationship once he went back to Jujutsu High. Not with all the risks he takes on. He’s simply Too Responsible. But for the sake of closure, let’s pretend.

Because of Nanami, you’ve learned to distinguish between different kinds of serious. There’s one that isn’t really serious at all - a deadpan voice with raised brows, a smile threatening to break out from the thin crease of his lips. You learned to read that one quickly. Quicker than most, he’s told you. He’s used to it being misunderstood.

When he’s dead serious - that’s a different story. He doesn’t use that voice with you. It’s dispassionate, saved for situations where there’s too much on the line to let emotions get away. There are too many of those in his life. They show in the lines on his face, the bags underneath his eyes. They’ve become more prominent in the years you’ve known him.

Some nights, you can tell it’s been a harrowing day, because he barely says a word. On those days, you pull him close, and sit in the silence with him. Reliving details is painful, and you don’t need the whole story right away. You’ll hear it eventually - you always do - but when it’s fresh, it’s enough just to be there by his side. Enough to meet him when he arrives home, and stay by his side until he’s ready to go on. Until he’s ready to wake up in the morning and do it all over again.

He’s shown more courage than the world has any right to ask of him. He’s also shown you that there’s a difference between being brave and being fearless. When the fear comes out…that’s the kind of serious that chills you. It means things are worse than you can imagine. It means he’s in trouble.

It’s what you see on his face tonight. He’s not making a secret of it. Sometimes, he tries to hide it from you (as if he could), but tonight, he wants to talk. He needs to. Soon.

“Sit with me?”

He nods wordlessly, takes his seat beside you on the couch. “It’s…different this time.”

You can tell. He’s not looking at you. Even when everything has gone to shit, he makes a point of looking you in the eyes. Tonight, though, his gaze is fixed on the carpet beneath your feet.

“The fights ahead…it’s possible that they’ll alter the world forever.” He inhales deeply, eyes flicking upwards and fixing on some set point on the ceiling of your apartment. “I can’t just stand by. My presence there…it will make a difference. I know it will.” His nails dig into the couch cushion beneath him, knuckles whitening under the warm glow of the lamp in the corner. “But with all the forces at play, I’ll be outmatched. And if things don’t go right…” He cuts himself off, leaving the words dangling in midair. It doesn’t matter - you know how the sentence would end.

“I don’t think I’m a lucky man,” he continues. “But meeting you made me feel, for once, like fate was in my favor. The last three years with you have been…well, it would be a lie to say that they’ve been perfect years. But you made them better. You’ve brought me joy for the first time in a long time.”

“Kento…” You move closer, brush his hand with your fingertip. “You’re scaring me. It sounds like…” It sounds like you’re saying goodbye.

“I don’t want to scare you. I wouldn’t, if I had any choice.” Finally, he turns his head, and meets your gaze. It brings you no comfort - his face is obscured by an empty expression that you’ve only seen a few times before. “There’s nothing I want more than to make you happy.”

“Then…” Don’t fight. It’s on the tip of your tongue. But you can’t bring yourself to say it. If you did, and he listened to you, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. When he says he needs to go - he means it.

“You’re talking like you know exactly how this is going to play out,” you say instead. “Like it’s inevitable that…that something bad will happen. But you don’t know that. There’s no way for you to tell.”

He shifts in his seat, and his eyes slip from your face. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “I don’t know how this all will end…but there’s a chance that it will go wrong. And if it does, I’ll never make you happy again.” He cups his head in his hand, takes a shallow breath. “I should have understood from the beginning… someone like me shouldn’t let people get close. It’s too dangerous.” He sighs, and covers his face. “I shouldn’t have been so selfish.”

“Don’t say that.” You shake your head in disbelief. “You never did anything wrong. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“You didn’t,” he argues. “Not completely. I told you everything I could, but unless you’ve seen what I’ve seen…you can’t understand.”

“I can.” You can feel tears beginning to choke your words, but you don’t let them out. You’re going to be strong for him. “I can, because I trust you. And when you tell me something…even if it’s terrible, even if I don’t want to believe it, I do. When you told me that someday this could fall apart, that you could get hurt, that I could get hurt, I believed you. With all my heart. And I stayed, and I convinced you to stay, because…”

He lowers his hand and stares back at you, hanging onto your every word.

“Because I decided I’d rather take that risk than never have you at all.”

As your tears blur your vision, a pair of strong arms envelopes you. Nanami buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing over your skin. “I want you forever,” he whispers. “I want to know every day that I’m coming home to you. And if there’s a chance that I won’t…you deserve to know.”

“That’s true,” you manage. You hook your arms under his shoulders, clinging onto him. “But if there’s a chance that you’ll be okay, I want to know that, too.”

“There’s a chance,” he murmurs. “It could go either way. Truly. But I want to prepare you. Want you to know what could happen.”

“I’ll never be prepared,” you confess. “But I’m strong.”

“I know.”

“And you’re strong.”

He says nothing at this.

“I believe that you’re capable of anything. I believe you’ll be okay. But if you’re not, if this does end in the worst possible way… I’ll go on living. Life will be different. Life will be worse. But I’ll carry on. You always have, despite everything. I can do it too.” You pull back, and are relieved to see a a flash of light return to his eyes, even as his arms fall back to his sides. “There’s a reason you do what you do. It’s to protect people like me.”

“People like you…and you.” He smiles faintly - you swear that it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve even seen. “Sometimes, when I feel hopeless, I picture your face, the way it looks when you wake up beside me. And then, I keep going.” His voice lowers, and the smile slips from his face. “If I don’t keep going this time, you might soon wake up in an unrecognizable world. I’d rather risk my life than risk that.”

“I want to stop you,” you whisper. “But I won’t.” You hold your head high. “And I won’t make you promise to come back to me. Just…just swear you’ll do everything you can to make it out.”

“I will.” He bows his head, eyes half-closed. “And if I can’t make it out…I’ll at least make it worth the cost.”

“I know you will. But I pray that you won’t have to.” You bring your hand to the side of his face, fingers brushing gently against his hair. “I think…I think we need to stop thinking about it. Just for a little while. We have time before you have to go, don’t we?”

He looks up. “We do. Not much, but…we do.”

“Then I don’t want to spend that time being scared.”

Again, you see the barest hint of a smile cross his face. “How do you want to spend it?”

“Like I want to spend all my time. Happily, with you.”

“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.” He moves closer, seeming to come alive again as his hand falls over yours, fingertips lacing together.

Later, you’ll say a proper farewell. Later, you’ll spend hours frozen on this exact couch, waiting for any word of what’s happened. But for now, you push every anxious thought of the future away. In his mind, you hope that he does the same.

“I want to kiss you,” he says. After three years, he still likes to ask. “May I?”

You nod silently.

His lips meet yours, and for just that moment, you’re sure that you both are at peace. It may be temporary. It may be merely the eye of a monstrous hurricane. It may be the last peace either of you truly feel. But for you, at this second, it’s enough. You surge into him, drowning out the sounds of the storm bearing down upon you. It’s not time to step into it just yet.

sorry I’ve been inactive, irl stuff happened and I’ve been in Stress Mode

I’m still stressed but calm enough to channel it into writing so you will see more from me soon :)

Curiosity, the Killer

Mahito x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Synopsis: You went out tonight hoping to connect with a stranger. And technically, you did… after you got home. After he broke into your apartment and cornered you in the bathroom. Good luck getting rid of him - he’s not one to control his impulses. Especially when he’s feeling curious.

Tags: dark content, noncon, death threats, talk of murder, extreme possessiveness, general rough handling, biting, hair pulling, painful sex, creampie, mahito being a pervy lil pantie sniffer

Note: Might do a part two…my brain is rotting.

You slip through the front door of your apartment, kicking off your shoes the moment it shuts behind you. Tonight did not go as you’d hoped - although to be fair, you had an active imagination, and tended to set your hopes too high. In your mind, each time you went out was a potential first chapter to one of the guilty-pleasure novels you read (and sometimes, even attempted to write) in your spare time. A beautiful stranger would compliment your dress, offer to buy you a drink, dance with you where everyone could see, kiss you on the floor, take you home…

None of that had happened tonight. The closest you’d gotten was when a ridiculously drunk college student had thrust a shot of vodka in your face. You’d dodged, but you can still smell the splash of liquor that had landed on your dress.

You’d been with a crowd of friends - maybe that was the problem. None of them had been approached either, although a couple had left with guys they’d met on dating apps earlier this weekend. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe the idea of meeting someone in the real world had become a fantasy long ago. Maybe you were stupid to still believe in it.

In any case…the night is over. And with nothing to excite you, nothing to capture your imagination, sleep is beginning to take hold. You don’t let it catch you just yet - you make your way to the bathroom, and scrub at the makeup on your face until you’re back in your bare skin. The bathroom light flickers, and you make a mental note to change the bulb tomorrow. Not tonight - you’re too tired, and with your luck, it would probably end up shattered on the floor.

For a moment, you stare at yourself in the mirror. The simple, form-fitting black dress you wore tonight is one of your favorites. It makes you feel confident - beautiful, even. You let yourself appreciate it for a while before you finally reach for the zipper, contorting your arm to pull it down your back. A second later, the fabric hits the floor with finality, and you turn on the shower.

While you wait for the water to warm up, your eyes briefly flutter shut. Before you open them, before you take off your bra and underwear and step into your warm shower, you allow yourself just a moment to imagine what might have been. You sigh with longing, and wrap your arms tightly around your waist.

Then, at your weakest moment - a second pair of arms envelops your own.

You try to whip around, but they hold you fast, allowing you to turn just enough to get a glimpse of the intruder in the mirror, and to see a third hand clamp down over your mouth, dampening your scream before it makes it out of your throat. It’s a man, you think, but nothing about his appearance makes sense. The face you saw in the mirror isn’t right. It’s human, but covered in very un-human stitches, a patchwork that doesn’t quite add up when it’s all put together. When you look down, you see that his hand and arms are covered in them, too. And the hands…you saw three. You feel three digging into your skin. That doesn’t make sense. It’s not right. Again, you try to cry out, thrashing wildly in his arms as he presses into you.

He leans down, and flicks his tongue over your ear. “Hi. You just let me know when you’re done, okay?”

A fresh ripple of terror runs through you, because he sounds nothing like you expected. His voice is high-pitched and gleeful, far too casual for such a terrifying situation. You squirm against his grip, but it holds fast. You try to scream, again and again, until you finally accept that the seal on your mouth isn’t going to break, that the shower will obscure any sound that you do manage to make. You breathe shallowly, a black haze begins to obscure your vision. His palm is warm, damp, and smells worse than the stain on your dress.

“Are you done?” He laughs - actually giggles, like what he’s doing is nothing more than harmless fun. “Well, I guess you can’t really tell me. But you can nod your head if you are.”

You shake your head vigorously, trying desperately to tear your face from his grasp.

He sighs, exasperated. “If you don’t cut it out soon, I’m gonna have to kill you.”

At this, you freeze, too petrified to move an inch more.

“I don’t want you to die,” he continues, a petulant tone slipping into his voice. “I’ve got other plans. But I can’t just stand here covering your mouth all night.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck, lips scraping against your exposed skin. “I know you don’t really know what you’re dealing with,” he mutters. “But trust me… you would be really easy to kill. I just have to do this.” A fourth unseen hand juts out from behind you and wraps around your neck. The fingernails on this hand are long, and unnaturally sharp. Sharp enough to break your skin with ease. “It’s easy from here. All I have to do is squeeze, or slice…either way, you’ll die!”

What is this thing? You’d like to believe that you’re hallucinating, but the nails tapping against your skin feel far too real.

“If I let go of you,” he explains, “I need to know that you’re not gonna scream or try to run away. I want this to be a nice night for us. It’s not gonna be nice if I have to spend it killing the people that come running to save you. I don’t wanna be distracted.” He kisses you gently on the neck, and a chill runs down your spine.

The way he’s talking…it sounds like he actually thinks he’s being sweet. You’d be less terrified if he was self-aware. If he knew what a terrible thing he was doing.

He nuzzles his face against your hair, inhaling deeply as he raises a sharp nailed finger to caress the line of your jaw. “You looked so lonely tonight,” he sighs. “I noticed it right away.”

You stiffen. He’s so deep in his delusion that he seems to have lost all grasp on reality - but he’s right about the loneliness. What, and how, does he know?

“Even with all your friends around you,” he sighs. “So miserable. Like you were waiting for someone special, and they never came.”

Everything. He knows everything. He’s had his eye on you for hours…if not longer.

“You won’t be lonely anymore if you’re good for me,” he murmurs. “And you’ll be alive.” His teeth grind into your neck, gnawing away like a dog on a bone, and your body tenses at the sudden pain. “Come on,” he whines, his voice muffled by the pinch of skin still locked between his jaws. “Just promise to be good - just nod your head…”

What choice do you have? Even if there is some other choice, your mind is too scrambled to think of it. Too confused by all the impossibilities you’ve just witnessed, still reeling from the revelation that he’s been watching you all night. Later, you’ll try to work out how he managed to enter your home, but that’s not on your mind right now - not when your life depends on a single quick decision. You nod, and when his hands slip from your face and neck a moment later, you don’t make a sound.

“Good job!” The arms around your waist squeeze you tighter, and you hear the other pair clapping in celebration behind you. “I was worried you were gonna do something stupid. I’m glad you didn’t…I’ve got such exciting plans for you. I’d be so sad if I didn’t get to use them.” He drops his arms from your waist. “Turn around. I wanna see you.”

Slowly, stiffly, you turn to face him. The third and fourth arm have somehow disappeared - he looks human now, save for the stitches running across his skin. He’s got long hair, colored a light blue. For some reason, you don’t think it’s dyed. With everything you’ve just seen, unnatural hair doesn’t seem out of the question. His eyes are mismatched - one is blue, the other grey. They’re striking, shining with a bright intensity that almost makes you want to look away.

His left hand latches onto your waist, and the right twists through your hair. “You’re pretty on the outside,” he whispers, bringing his face so close to yours that you go cross-eyed. “On the inside…you’re the same as the rest. But I don’t care about that right now.” He pulls on your hair, practically humming in excitement as you cry out. “Or maybe I do. All your silly, stupid little human desires…they’re the reason you looked so miserable tonight, aren’t they? You wanted something - or someone.” He yanks your head up and down, forcing you to nod in agreement. “I know I’m right. You were looking for another human to…how do you phrase it? To sleep with?” He smiles, his eyes stretched grotesquely wide. “So many of you have that same desire…I’ve been trying to understand it. It’s been killing me, all the wanting, the not knowing. But then I realized - if I want to understand, all I have to do is try it out!”

He pulls you into a rough, sloppy kiss, and your eyelids shut, squeezing out the tears that have gathered beneath them. You don’t want to do this. The way he’s been talking makes you feel like a specimen under a microscope - or a lab rat in a cage. When it ends…will he let me go? For a split second, you see an image of your body lying cold and lifeless beneath your bedsheets. Your eyes snap open, and you see that his already are.

“Mmm.” His eyes are narrowed, his lips pulled into a grin just a bit too wide for his face. “I made a good choice…I like you. You get even prettier when you’re scared.” Without warning, bends down, grabs both of your ankles, and yanks you off your feet. Your ears ring painfully as he drags you out of the bathroom, across the hall, shouldering open the door that leads to your bedroom. He kicks it shut behind him. Then, he pulls you into the air, dangling your body carelessly in front of him. You squirm and thrash, caught like a fish on a line.

Carefully, he makes his way across the room, and deposits you on your bed, laying you down on your back. Before you can sit up, he’s kneeling on top of you, one leg on either side of your stomach, his body pinning you to your mattress. He pulls off his shirt, drops it to the floor, and tumbles forward, his stitch-covered chest slapping against yours as his tongue darts into your mouth, exploring every inch of the space inside. When he pulls back, he’s panting like a predator at the end of a chase, eyes lidded, tongue lolling from his mouth and coated in drool. “I like this. I can’t believe I waited so long to try it.”

A whimper escapes from your lips as he slides his hands across your chest and rips your bra down the middle. He gropes you freely, squeezing and pinching until you’re crying out in pain.

“You make such cute sounds,” he whispers, taking a break from his assault to brush your hair back from your face. He squeezes your cheeks between his hands, forcing your lips to pucker, paying no mind to the glare in your eyes. “Adorable.” He grabs your wrists, pinning them to your side, and slithers down the length of your body, settling between your legs. You feel an unwelcome rush of heat to your core as he buries his nose and lips in your panties, his grip on your wrists tightening painfully as he inhales. “You even smell good,” he sighs, his muffled voice vibrating up your spine. “Do you smell like this all the time? Or is it a special scent? Does it mean you want me inside you?”

“I don’t want you.” The words spill out before you can reel them in.

“Sure you do.” His tongue darts from his mouth, and slides greedily over your cunt, the thin fabric stretched over it doing nothing to dull the sensation. “I know how your body works. I know what it means when you get all warm and wet…” He raises his face, and grins up at you. “You’re ready for me. And I’ve been ready for you for a very long time.” He grasps your panties in his teeth, and jerks his head, tearing a massive hole that leaves your cunt completely exposed. “I’ve been so curious. So desperate to know what it feels like. Why you all want it so badly…”

His body slides up over yours; he gathers your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. The other hand yanks at the waist of his pants, pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring free. “Keep your eyes open,” he hisses, the tip of his cock already pressed to your entrance. “You’re mine. My favorite little experiment. I wanna know how I makes you feel.”

Your mouth falls open as he thrusts into you - it’s too much, too big, too fast, and you hear yourself cry out in pain as your eyes involuntarily snap shut. A second later, a rough pair of fingers tug at your eyelids, forcing them open. The face of your captor bears down upon you, eyes alight with sickening pleasure.

“Does it hurt?”

You nod quickly, tears already building up in the corners of your vision.

“Awww.” He stares shamelessly into your watery eyes, the tip of his tongue sliding over his front teeth as he presses into you. “You’re pretty when you cry, too.” His thrusts are erratic, each one pushing deeper inside you, as if he’s testing how far he can go. As you stretch around him, the pain begins to fade, replaced by a sensation that sends your eyes rolling back, even as your stomach sinks with dread. You don’t want to enjoy this. You can’t. In vain, you attempt to free yourself, squirming desperately beneath him, contorting your trapped hands to scratch feebly at the back of his palm.

“You wanna fight? That’s so cute.” He shoves the full length of his cock inside you, cackling at the way your eyes widen in response. “So, so cute…makes me wanna keep you. Wanna see how long it takes for you to stop fighting…for you to like it…”

You try to tell yourself that he’s babbling, that he doesn’t mean any of it. That he’ll leave, that you’ll never have to see him again, that your life will go on just as it was before. It all feels like a lie. He’s insane, but he believes every word that he says. If he says he’s not letting you go…

“You feel so good.” He groans, and presses his face against your neck. “I don’t think this is gonna last much longer…but that’s okay. We’ll try again. We’ll practice until…” He gasps. “Until forever. Yeah. I’m gonna keep you forever.” His cock pulses inside of you. His hand slips from your wrists and slides under your back, locking you in a deadly embrace - as soon as your hands are free, you try to push him away, but he’s oblivious to your efforts and impossible to move, nestled securely against you as his cum gushes deep into your cunt. He stays where he is for many, many painful seconds, only pulling away when he’s gone soft inside you. Then, he turns you onto your side, and wraps his arms around your waist.

You let your own arms go limp. It’s too late to struggle, useless to try. Much easier to lay your head down, and surrender to the kisses peppering the back of your neck.

“All mine,” he hums, dragging his hand in loose circles over your stomach. “All mine.” He lifts his head, peers over your shoulder. “Oh, come on. Don’t look so sad.” You turn your head to look back at him, a tight knot forming in your stomach as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “You should be happy. You got what you wanted!” He cups your face in his hand, and smiles. “You belong to me now. And that means you’re never, ever gonna be lonely again.”

hello, i wrote some hcs about how sukuna likes you to suck his cock. they’re proofread and everything. enjoy !!

word count: ~500

content tags: uh?? It’s Sukuna, and it’s me writing him. He’s mean. Throat-fucking, tears, choking, begging.

You spend so much time on your knees already. It’s where he likes you best - exactly where you belong. And it would be a shame not to put you to good use while you’re down there.

He’ll make you work for it - make you beg for it. If he doesn’t like how you sound, he’ll crack his hand across your face, purposely ankling his long nails to scrape your cheek, and make you try again. But let’s be honest - he’ll do that regardless of how your words really make him feel. It’s just so fun to see that shocked look on your face, that expression of betrayal in your widened eyes. You shouldn’t be so surprised - you should know better than to expect any kindness from him. And if you’re really stupid enough to hold out for that? Well. He’s more than happy to disabuse you of your delusions.

Stick your tongue out. Mouth nice and wide, like a feral animal that hasn’t eaten in days, eyes rolling back as he brutally grasps at your hair and shoves his cock in your face, stroking down your cheek and across your eyelids. Drooling before he even lets you take him. That’s the kind of desperation he wants to see from you.

You can start slow, dragging your tongue up his length, but that’s only going to last until you get his cock wet enough for it to feel heavenly when he shoves it down your throat. Fingernails twisted through your hair, scrapping at your scalp, fixing you in place - he doesn’t care if you choke. If anything, he likes it more when you do. You can gag, drool, try desperately to pull away - it only makes him more vicious.

When the tears start welling up in your eyes - that’s when he really loses it. There’s something so wonderful about seeing you fall apart, something in that pathetic look in your eyes that makes him want to ruin you, leave you a whimpering mess beneath him -

He’ll cum down your throat every single time, one hand wrapped around your neck, the other pressing into the back of your head, forcing you to take him all the way to the base - and he’ll laugh at you if you even try to resist, tightening his grip, cutting off your last gasp of air, nails slicing into your vulnerable skin until you swallow every last drop.

There will be no reciprocation. Maybe he’ll let you get yourself off - or maybe he’ll let you get close before grabbing your wrists and tying them behind your back. He only keeps you around to serve him. If he doesn’t want to see you cum, you won’t.

Are you doing alright after all of that? Don’t bother answering - he doesn’t care. And he’ll be back for more before long, whether you’re ready or not.