🧿

Freelance artist, author, and musician. "We are only fated to do what we would have done, anyway." I block freely. MDNI.

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[frontmansdefender]

Source

[angelicguy]

why the fuck did it suddenly become trendy to be really really into ghosts and shit

[ihatewilliambasinski]

It’s halloween you dumb motherfucker

[angelicguy]

oh so i guess because i made a little mistake its time to swear huh

[bymossypine]

🍂 Is it spooky time yet?! Shop | Instagram

[cute-catts]

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[ittybittypearlygirly]

On TODAY'S episode of "I Think Google Used the Wrong Picture", we have this masterpiece of a thumbnail

Except I clicked on the article and was proven wrong!! Google DID use the right picture! The full image is somehow even better

I don't live in Massachusetts but I hope this one wins

[massachusetts-official]

Official Post of Massachusetts

[reignpage]

In which Satoru cums so hard he teleports

“Fuckfuckfuck so tight,” he grunts out. 

Satoru is balls deep inside your sloppy pussy, wringing out obscene squelches mercilessly. Bed creaking on its last legs, the headboard slams into the wall with each slap of his hips against your ass, fingers digging into your clammy flesh, threatening to bruise you so deliciously you’ll feel him for days after, inside and out. 

Vaguely, you see the paint scratching off from where the wall is being brutally rammed into, just as abused as your pussy. “Toru, ngh! I can’t -hah fuck- t-take any more.”

“You can,” he moans out through gritted teeth. “You’re a -hngh!- good girl. My b-best girl, right? Fuck, you’re clamping down on me sooo good. I’m losing my mind. Come on, baby. Hold out for me. You can do it. I -shit I’m close- I w-wanna cum together. Please, baby?”

And when the Strongest asks so nicely, who are you to say no?

Hair yanked back and body arching painfully, you can do nothing but scream as a sudden wave of torturous pleasure slams into you, exploding from the inside and painting your pulsing walls white. Your vision blurs as tears leak out. Satoru is muttering your name like a mantra, gratitude coursing through every syllable. 

“Thank you, baby. Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he mumbles right into your ear, swollen lips skimming the shell. He’s still lodged inside you, red hot cock throbbing in response to every clench of your cunt, like they have their own secret language. “So good. So fucking good. Mmm, I love you so much.”

Giggling, voice hoarse, you say, “I love you t — what the fuck? Where are we?”

He blinks, shaky hand brushing his sweat-slicked hair back from his forehead. “Oh, shit. It’s my classroom; I teleported us to the school…That’s crazy.”

Satoru looks down, watching your head flip around; you’re nervous, totally ready to run and hide, if needed, to avoid being seen. And, well, that makes sense, considering you’re both butt-naked, and you’re bent over his desk, crinkling papers underneath your body —not that he cares.

“It’s okay, baby. No one’s here. It’s the middle of the night.” Grin wide and shit-eating, he begins rocking his unsoftening cock inside you, groaning when your pleats tighten and pull him back in, almost punishing in their intensity. Hands spreading your asscheeks, he winks back at your puckering hole, thumb brushing over it to say ‘we’ll talk later.’ “We can still have our fun. After all, I have always wanted to fuck you here.”

Rolling your eyes, you relax your alert body, allowing the building pleasure to wash over you again. “Fine, but only one round, alright? And then you’re taking us back home.”

“Sure,” he says. 

But you both know he’s lying.

[cherryscript]

HE CAME HOME WRONG .ᐟ a mini gojo horror series

SYNOPSIS ★ your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, came back from a trip with his friends acting a little different—off in ways you couldn’t put your finger on.

CW ★ horror themes, body horror, doppelgängers, psychological terror, missing person case, implied death/disappearance, unsettling imagery, brief mentions of decomposition.

CHERRY'S NOTE ★ someone who started writing with horror i wanted to try this horror mini series with gojo. nothing too fancy, just testing waters. yes, I'm a versatile author and I enjoy writing for different genres XD

TAGLIST CLOSED. when i say taglist is closed, it means—IT. IS. CLOSED.

THAT'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!

SHADOWS AND LIES

DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!

THE NEWSPAPER REPORT

BONUS : THE CCTV FOOTAGE

[cherryscript]

using his dih as a squish toy, because you can ( gojo x f.reader ) crack + suggestive

You’re both laying in bed, he’s scrolling his phone, and you’re just… grabbing his cock. Bare hand, no shame, just squishing it like it’s Play-Doh. “Uh, babe? That’s not exactly a fidget toy.” You don’t stop. In fact, you start smacking it lightly against his stomach, fascinated by how it bounces back. Every little thwap makes you giggle harder.

Gojo groans, dropping his phone over his face. “I’m literally a national treasure and you’re over here treating me like a goddamn slinky.” Then you poke the tip. Just a little jab with your finger. He flinches and kicks his leg like a startled cat. “HEY! Sensitive!! That’s the command center, you can’t just—don’t—ah, fuck, why’re you giggling like that?!”

You cup his balls next, weighing them in your palm like you’re evaluating fruit at a market. He makes a strangled sound. “Okay, yeah, mhm, inspector hands—what are we doing, a quality check? You gonna put a sticker on ‘em if they pass?” The thing is… he’s getting hard. Fast. His cock twitches in your hand while you squeeze and slap and play, and Gojo’s desperately trying to keep his smug face on even though his voice is cracking.

“Y-you think this is funny? Yeah? You’re laughing now, but the second I flip us over you’re gonna—ah, fuck—giggle differently, princess.” And still—you’re just smiling, using his dick like the most entertaining toy you’ve ever owned. Every twitch makes you laugh harder, and he hates how much he loves it. Meanwhile you’re just giggling, fascinated, like “hehe it moved again.”

[satorucest]

it is no secret to anyone that your husband (satoru) is unbelievably handsome. dashing, sexy — other words he likes to use to describe himself. and because of this universally known fact, women often will stop him on the street for ridiculous reasons.

like right now.

satoru is leaning against his vehicle, earbuds in, humming to an odd tune as he waits for you outside of your work building. he isn’t even trying to look approachable. but of course — someone always stops him anyway.

“hey…” a woman strolls up to him, tucking her hair behind her ear. satoru’s gaze lazily flickers over, a kind smile playing on his lips — albeit disinterested at the same time.

because he knows what’s about to happen. and he wonders what method she’ll go with. an excuse for coming up to him, or boldly ask for his number straight up?—

“you look like you’re enjoying your music. what’re you listening to?”

ah, of course. a mischievous, toothy grin (almost ominous and cat-like) curls onto satoru’s lips as his face lights up with delight — almost as if he has been waiting for this moment since forever.

“wanna hear?”

the lady blinks, momentarily taken aback by his question before her smile widens, cheeks pink as she mistakes the edge in his voice as flirting.

“sure!”

he plucks out one earbud with deft fingers, leaning off the car door and close enough for her to get a whiff of his pricey cologne before slipping it smoothly into her ear.

it’s barely a second before her smile freezes in place.

the unmistakable sounds of a woman moaning — soft and breathless — fills one ear. the stranger’s eyes widen, releasing a mortified gasp as a flush creeps up her neck from humiliation. she rips the bud out like it burned her.

“w-what the hell?!”

but satoru’s smile only grows more menacing. the poor woman stumbles back slightly while he stands there with the ease of a man who isn’t listening to something so lewd and vile in public.

satoru chuckles, tilts his head, shades lowering on the bridge of his nose as he peeks over the dark lenses — revealing pale white lashes and glowing, dangerous, icy blue in its wake that make the lady tense up with a chill running down her spine.

“pretty, right?”

he taps the bud in his own ear.

“that’s my wife.”

p.s. — the moral of the story is don’t flirt with gojo satoru because he will make it known he’s a taken man in a shameless, scary way that will make you regret coming up to him in the first place.

[shisasan]

17 February, 1926 The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf (1924-1941)

[authenticity2025]

I crave a love so deep, the ocean would be jealous. - Pablo Neruda