Just Finished My Rant About Never Writing On Tumblr Again And How It Destroys My Sleep And Wastes My

AOT + JJK men as random pics i had saved on my phone

a complete shitpost while i slowly chip away at the rest of my RED (TV) event requests (^̮^) pt 2 & pt 3. hq version

EREN LMFAO, yuuji, connie

porco, JEAN, megumi, getou, yuuta

jean, porco, MEGUMI, reiner

armin, YUUTA, connie, yuuji

NANAMI, reiner, LEVI, inumaki

eren, GOJO, connie, inumaki

NOTE: if this was funny and u enjoyed pls let me know bc i was giggling and it was so easy to do LMFAO. i have so many pics like these in my saved 

‏Hello my friends! 🍉🇵🇸 I'm Nada from Gaza Asking for help is not easy, I ask for a small donation of 20 or 25 euros from each person. I need your help, you can donate to save my life and the life of my family, my donation link is in my bio, every donation, even the first little, is a good thing and https://gofund.me/dd0fac71 makes a big difference in my life Help me and my family Thank you for your support I hope you can help me even a little to save us from death https://gofund.me/dd0fac71 🍉🇵🇸

free palestine 🇵🇸

cw: gojo's past arc spoilers, implied sex, suggestive, kissing

when gojo awoke, he noticed four highly unusual things.

one, his bed was missing its usual coldness. the one he has gotten used to waking up to ever since… he was born?

which is weird, because he never bought any sort of electric bed warmers nor was it summer.

two, he had no nightmares. no images of his best friend's back turned to him as he slowly blends into the crowd, no images of a dead amanai riko lying limply in his arms, no images of fushiguro toji stabbing him on his throat, and no images of the three of them blaming and shouting at the man for their own fates.

which is rare, because every night either one or all of them would visit gojo. he even had the habit of taking his guesses on who's appearing in his dreams due to how frequent they happen.

three, he feels happy. like really, sincerely happy. not like the mask of joyfulness he shows his students; unlike the facade he had gotten all too used to presenting people.

which is rare, because gojo satoru has never felt true happiness ever since geto suguru's defection.

four, there's something warm and soft enclosing his whole body. as if he suddenly acquired a life-sized teddy bear he's now snuggling with.

but no, he never bought any sort of stuffed toy and what he was feeling was something way better than some big plushie.

(because teddy bears don't radiate warmth that feels as homely, as comforting, nor as peaceful as the sorcerer senses to the point that he never wanted to let go.)

so despite his body and mind's unceasing protests, gojo satoru slowly but surely opened his eyes to inspect why the hell there were suddenly so many changes on his usual mornings.

it was you.

an ethereal being quiescently sleeping with your cheek squished on his toned pectoral littered with red and purple marks, your marks, drool dripping down your mouth, tangled and messy hair sticking to your face, arms tightly wrapped around his naked torso as if you too would never want this moment to end.

ah. that explains why i slept so well.

gojo raises the duvet up to your shoulder before lifting his right hand and brushing your hair out of your face, wanting to see for the first time what you look like when you sleep and god. it's the only sight he would ever want to see over and over again and again for the rest of his mornings.

memories of the night prior came flooding back into his mind, filling his entire being with more and more tenderness as he remembers how your bodies perfectly molded and joined into singularity mere hours ago, as if you two were puzzle pieces who found their way towards each other despite being lost wandering somewhere around the vast and endless universe.

gojo tightened his left arm on your bare waist, his desire to be closer to you and to feel you even further starting to overtake his senses.

that is until you stirred, opened your eyes, and roamed your pupils on your surroundings before settling into his own sapphire irises. your forehead scrunched upon recognizing the man, as if you were wondering how you ended up in your current position.

you're frowning and groggy and disoriented so why are you still so gorgeous?

"g'morning, drooling beauty. someone had a great sleep, huh?" he teases as a greeting, making you frown even more as you attempt to remove your arms from his body.

whining, gojo's hands instantly flew to yours as he pressed his weight down onto the mattress, "nooo. let's stay like this."

at that, you smirked and rested your chin on his sternum before opening your mouth, "heh. someone wants to cuddle, huh?" your tone was condescending yet you still held him tighter than before, upper body fully pressed on his and arms underneath him as you lean closer to press your lips on his jaw.

(oh how he loves your morning voice; the only sound he wants to hear as soon as he wakes up.)

satoru smiled before muttering ‘just stay with me,’ pressing his lips that have said far too many words and brushed all over your figure last night on the top of your head as he basks in your presence.

it’s pretty ironic. how infinity, his most prized technique, is meant for gojo satoru to be untouchable, to serve as a barrier—a physical boundary he learned to automatically activate in order to keep himself from any injury, from any type of harm, from any kind of pain.

yet all he wants whenever he’s with you is to turn all those barriers off and to shove them away on the deepest part of his being, never to emerge again. he just wants to hold you close until the edge of the universe stops expanding and starts receding, until only the two of you are left in a small space slowly getting swallowed by complete darkness.

only then will he activate his infinity and shield the both of you against the collapsing cosmos.

“...fast? gojo? are you listening?”

your muffled voice brought the naked man back to reality, and he feels you attempting to raise your head from its place on his neck (probably to look at him) but fails as he pushes the body part back with his chin. "yes, yes, i'm listening. you were saying something about how we finished fast, right? you can just say you wanna go for another, ya know? i won't mind~"

you let out an ugh and he swears he can hear your eyes roll within your response, "no, you idiot. i was asking what you wanted for breakfast. were you dozing off?"

he responds only to your former question, completely ignoring the latter. "breakfast, huh? let me think."

for gojo, breakfast normally meant going to some shop near wherever he currently is and eating a slice of cake alone. he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a home cooked meal and although he’d stop at nothing to taste your cooking (even if it’s dirt), he has been thinking of another meal ever since he realized woke up with you.

smirking, the white-haired man twisted his body before flipping the both of you and hovered over your form despite your halfhearted protests. you were looking incredulously at him, left eyebrow raised and forehead scrunched as he slowly leans in to plant a chaste kiss on your nose.

“you were asking what i wanted for breakfast, right? welp, i want you.”

however, the thought of you standing in his kitchen, in front of his stove, possibly wearing his shirt that would be way too huge for your figure and making him breakfast while his body encloses yours from behind, the combined smell of miso soup and your neck permeating his senses sits at the back of his mind while he kisses you silly.

so gojo satoru, the ever unpredictable man, halts the onslaught of his love on your face and pulls back, perching both of his hands on either side of your shoulder as he continues hovering over you and watching you catch your breath.

“i changed my mind. cook me breakfast now~” he beamed before getting off the bed and grabbing his shirt on the floor, leaving you dumbfounded as you allow him to lift you off the mattress and carry you bridal style out of the door.

you sighed exasperately.

what a bizarre man you fell in love with.

navi

i just love him a lot TT

ೀ*: ･ﾟrandom suna texts!

his playlist to you♡

WISH I COULD | love sick! gojo satoru + gn! reader | 1,995 words | fluff | mutual pining, hurt/comfort, very idiots in love trope-y

*:･ﾟ✧ summary: set around the time of the hidden inventory arc. gojo comforts reader after they've been injured on a mission, kisses it better. but he's a bit pathetically in love about it all. *:･ﾟ✧ warnings: mentions of canon - typical violence, minor injury

The damp air of the bathroom clings to your skin uncomfortably, making it hard to breathe. You lean on the sink, trying to steady your tired limbs. The buzzing noise from the LED and your laboured breathing becoming increasingly louder with each passing moment as the quiet feeling of unease spreads through your body. You take a swipe at the foggy mirror, trying to ground yourself and ward off the onslaught of panic that was sure to follow. Two bright red cuts - one between your eyebrows and one just below your right eye - mark your skin. They are quite shallow. Probably won’t leave a scar. But they sting just enough to make moving your face uncomfortable. And they will make for an annoying reminder of a night you’d rather forget for at least a few days. 

Your hairs stand up at the change in temperature upon leaving the steamy bathroom. But the feeling is almost refreshing. You stretch your body down on the bed, clinging to your towel. Really, you just hope you are tired enough to drift off. Usually, the familiarity of your dimly lit room would provide a sense of comfort and safety. Tonight you find the silence more disturbing than anything, your eyes drifting to dark corners and the high windows. But every time you try to close them, you see the same flashing images. Its disfigured face. Sharp claws swinging too close to your neck, almost making contact. You’re not even sure if the memory is real anymore, and not just amplified and made worse by your distressed brain. But it feels real enough.

So you lift yourself off the bed, rummaging through your piles of clothes for something comfortable and clean to put on. Despite your general uneasiness you walk through the halls a bit slower than you normally would, your arms folded across your chest, gripping the loose t-shirt. Just outside, the trees are swaying in the wind, branches colliding with the windows periodically, making your skin crawl a little bit more each time. You don’t really have a destination in mind. It is late. In fact, you aren’t really sure exactly how late it is, but there is always a chance someone else might be roaming about. Maybe in the kitchen. Or by the vending machines. 

You stop in front of a familiar door. It’s almost automatic, muscle memory. Your eyes trained on the door, you consider your options. He’s not exactly the most tactful of people, but you cannot stand the thought of spending another moment alone with your thoughts. You knock gently, praying he’s fast asleep but almost immediately the door cracks open.

“Uh, hey” Gojo was clearly caught off guard. Worn out sweater hanging off his broad shoulders, he looks cozy and you feel a stab of guilt for disturbing him. “What are you doing here anyway?” He chirps. You don’t want him to know about your near-failure of a mission. You just cannot bear his smug reaction and his smart-mouthed comments. 

“Don’t tell me that semi-first grade gave you trouble?” Satoru has always had a talent for sniffing out weaknesses and he wasn’t one to hesitate or show restraint in his delivery. “I’m almost disappointed, you know.”

“Is it that hard for you to show some basic human empathy every now and then?” That was harsh. But you were disappointed in yourself, too. It shouldn’t have been such a challenging mission, but you hesitated, you pulled back. You felt that paralysing sort of fear that was almost foreign at this point, that you know cannot allow yourself to feel out there all alone.

His body shouldn’t be drowned by such a rush of guilt for simply stating the truth, yet it is. He finds no anger in your eyes. The usual curious glint replaced with dull exhaustion. Then he feels worse. He scrambles to find the right words but they simply won’t come. After all, he has never been good at this, so why would you expect anything else? But when he sees you, you, trying to steady your trembling limbs, pulling at the wide sleeves of your shirt to find some sense of protection, he wishes he was better. He wishes he knew what to say and what to do. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Gojo doesn’t ask about your injuries. He watches you intently, noticing every small movement of your face and every twitch of a muscle. You don’t notice how his eyes soften, how his face is tense with worry. 

“I just need some company, if that’s ok?” Need. It’s silly and maybe a bit selfish of him to be analysing your choice in words given the situation. But he can’t help the way his heart swells at the thought. You need his company. Need him. It’s not that he doesn’t usually feel needed. People need him every day. He’d argue they need him a bit too much sometimes. Well, what they need are his abilities, his strength, so they have no other choice. But you chose to come to him. The realisation makes him light-headed. His mind racing as he tries to regain his composure. 

Suddenly he is too aware of the silence hanging heavy between the two of you. He doesn't trust himself to speak, so he just opens the door wider, stepping out of the way. 

You brush past him, heading straight for his unmade bed. The room is doused in the mellow blue light radiating from the TV. Satoru kneels down to rummage through his disorganised drawer. There’s a familiar bright smile on his face as he turns to you, holding a few different DVDs. “I’ll be nice and let you choose the movie”. 

“I don’t mind. Just pick your favourite.”

He narrows his eyes and squeezes his cheeks between long, slender fingers. Arms wrapped around your knees, you follow his movements. You watch as he fumbles with the case, mumbling about the dwarves and the elves, and grey and white wizards. Sparkling, wide blue eyes hold your gaze, are you listening? It’s amusing, the exaggerated hand movements, the animated facial expressions. His overwhelming presence lulls you away from the fear and uncertainty that had so completely overtaken your every sense. 

Satoru doesn’t mean to ramble so much. But he’s so nervous and he cannot stop himself from explaining the plot of the film in great detail, making silly jokes that he knows won’t make you laugh. Suguru would tell him to shut up. Shoko would also tell him to shut up, but in a harsher, meaner way. But they’re not here to do that, and that’s exactly his problem. It’s not that the two of you don’t ever spend time alone, you do. You train together, eat lunch together, even go on longer missions together. Never like this though. You have never been so alone that he has to keep looking at you, can’t look away to still his dizzying thoughts or the blood rushing to his ears. It has never been so quiet that he could hear your rhythmic, shallow breaths, periodically interrupted by a huff in response to his nonsense. It’s so much more than he is equipped to deal with. “And then she takes off her helmet and sa-”

Of course he catches the pillow flying towards his face and snuggles it to his broad chest. He looks at you with pouty lips and wounded eyes. “Why do you always have to spoil every movie we watch?”

“Why do you always have to be mean?” He slumps his shoulders as he walks towards you.

The bed dips beneath his weight as he settles on it with outstretched legs and arms tucked beneath his head. You try to follow his lead but you’re too fidgety, suddenly overly aware of the heat radiating off his body. The way his chest rises and falls with each breath. The way his pretty eyelashes flutter. You realise then you have moved to your side, openly staring at him. You make no effort to stop yourself as the overdue exhaustion finally takes over. Your body feeling heavier with every passing moment, sinking deeper into the mattress. 

The movie is just background noise to Satoru’s struggle for self control. He tries so hard not to look, to focus on anything but the way your body curls at his side but he just cannot. So he turns to look at your face. You’re so beautiful. He always thinks you’re so beautiful. When you look at him with stern eyes, arms folded over your chest, challenging him. When your mouth is pressed in a tight line at something that annoyed you. When you laugh with your nose scrunched up, trying to hold back cute little snorts. And he always wants so desperately to be closer to you. 

Before his common sense can catch up with his body, he extends his hand, gently tracing the claw mark between your eyebrows. “Does it hurt?” Your watery eyes, heavy with exhaustion flutter open at the contact. “Just a little”. He hums in response as his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb inspecting the cut on your temple. The clean, soapy scent of his skin drowns your senses. He is so very close. And his hands are so tender, so reverent on your face. Blood rushes to your cheeks in embarrassment, and you hope he doesn’t feel your skin burning at his touch. 

Wet lips part just slightly as he meets your gaze. His chest tightens and aches with these feelings that he cannot even begin to understand. All he knows is that, in that moment, you are the whole world. The rest of it fades to black, it’s insignificant. You are gravity.

“Can I kiss it better?” He really should be embarrassed about how absolutely pathetic he is being. But he cannot find it in himself to snap out of it. He needs to be closer to you. Closer than this. He needs to show you what he could never say. Not only because he would be too much of a coward to, but because he doesn’t know if the words he needs to say exist. 

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. But it is him that feels so raw and vulnerable, waiting for you pull away. To crash against you and not into you. 

You nod. It’s small and reluctant but it’s there. You feel as though you might never move again as he inches closer to you. His lips hover over your forehead and you can feel his warm breath on your face. Strands of his hair tickle your skin as his thumb draws circles on your cheekbone. He hesitates. 

He is crumbling at the sight of you. Eyes wide in anticipation, you feel so warm, so welcoming. And he tries to memorise every little detail. The way your soft skin feels underneath his hands, the smell of you slightly damp hair. The way your eyebrows knot just a tiny bit. The colour of your eyes. The way your eyelashes curl and move. He wants to remember it all. Just in case he never gets another chance to. 

Then he kisses your injured face. His lips so soft and warm. It’s such a careful, caring kiss but so incredibly intimate. Your whole body trembles at the sensation.  He kisses your temple too. And somehow he’s even closer. You can feel him with every particle of your being. You want to pull him into you, melt your body with his. You want him to consume you whole. But that’s not something you could ever say. So you smile into the crook of his neck, and you hope he knows that he makes everything better. 

Not another word is said between the two of you as you let yourself succumb to overwhelming fatigue. Satoru doesn’t sleep for a single moment that night. 

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@nathalunalune @utahimeow

anyway, i will share the good news — today is my grandmas birthday (the one who passed away a few months ago), and i was like sitting here thinking “wow imagine i got an acceptance on her birthday that would rlly be a sign” and i just checked my email and

bakugo fluff to heal the soul!

bakugo katsuki was fuming in his seat.

it’s not necessarily strange for him to be doing so, but normally it was due to the antics of kirishima and kaminari that gets him all riled up. this time though? it was you.

it all started the moment you stepped foot into the classroom because as soon as mina noticed you, she was already shouting her heart out at this hour of the morning (not that the time mattered much to bakugo because he wanted her to shut up at all times of the day).

but it was what she said that ticked him off even more.

“y/n! you’ve got an admirer!”

bakugo katsuki had to watch in slow-fucking-motion how your face lit up in a (beautiful) smile that almost had his anger raging as wildly as his explosions because it wasn’t him that was making you smile like that.

it wasn’t his love letter that had you giggling and flustered, it wasn’t his bouquet of flowers that you were fawning over and it wasn’t his box of sweets that you were admiring. only he had the right to make you feel like that. 

bakugo is brought out of his misery with the familiar voice of a certain red-haired. “oi! thought you’d never confess to y/n, finally grew a pair?” kirishima asked, bending down to match the blond’s seated position. 

bakugo scowls harder as he gruffly murmured, “that wasn’t me.”

“oh man! really?” kirishima looked back at your desk, noticing the gentle way that you were handling the gifts, setting them down on the floor beside you. “i guess y/n is popular, better shoot your shot before it’s too late.”

small explosions spark from bakugo’s palms as he screams, “i know, dumbass!” 

for the rest of school he had to witness the dazed, delicate expression you wore, paired with a gentle smile that never seemed to fade from your lips the whole day. he even found you fiddling with the card you received, reading it over for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. 

bakugo could write a better one. 

and if that wasn’t enough, he had to watch the way you held the gifts closely in your arms, cradled protectively to your chest as you tried to preserve their sacredness, hearing about how you were going to ‘put the flowers on my windowsill. they’ll be so pretty!’. 

he was going to blast those stupid floras into pieces, not understanding why you were feeling so special over some stupid extra’s ‘chivalrous’ actions because you deserved far better.

and you better fucking believe that he could make you smile wider than anyone else 

that’s what he did, knocking on your door ferociously the next day, bakugo katsuki was holding an even bigger bouquet of arranged flowers, far more grand than the small one you received yesterday, as well as some of your favourite pastries from the local bakery that you always took him to. and as a card? well, it was him. did you need any more? 

was his heart racing because of nerves or because of spite? he didn’t know.

“coming!” your voice comes from the other side of the door and sure enough, the telltale sign of a door unlocking reaches bakugo’s ears. you greet him with a smile, “oh, hey! bakugo- whoa, that is a big bouquet of flowers.”

“‘s for you,” he grumbles, unable to look away from your expression, gauging for a reaction. you’re silent for a moment before pointing at yourself. 

a weak ‘me?’ slips past your mouth.

“who else, dumbass? you’re the only one worthy of fuckin’ flowers.”

he dumps them in your arms and you gape at him. “wait- was it you that gave me-”

“nope, but you best believe i outdid them.”

you laugh, a sound that bakugo has grown to cherish over the time you’ve spent together. with a softer, adoring look in your eyes, bakugo thinks he’s reached the peak of life as you meet his gaze. “thank you, bakugo,” you say quietly but there’s something in your voice that tells him that you’re trying to keep your giddiness on the low. he can tell in the way that you marvel at the flowers with a wondrous expression, holding them to your heart.

he scoffs, not in a dismissive way, but in a manner of content.

“oi, i’m takin’ you out tomorrow night, on a date.” bakugo tells you and your chest flutters in the way that it always does when you’re around him. “you’re always pretty so i don’t need to tell you this, but dress nice.”

you beam at him and his heart stutters, “‘kay, only for you though.”

“don’t say shit like that!” the blush on bakugo’s face tells you enough as he stomps away.

he’s happy when you send him a picture of his flowers that sit pretty on your windowsill.

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO X FEM READER

You expected working at a convenience store during the twilight hours just to make enough to cover rent to be boring. After all, you took the job for the cash, not for a love of faking smiles for strangers who don’t care. The appearance of a stranger who seems to have a lot to hide is tantalizing bait to your boredom, but you can’t give in. That is, if you have a choice at all. 

wc — 3k

cw — mafia au but not really, implied but never addressed, is he or isn’t he, Gojo is Weird, blood, guns, this is not meant to be a serious gorey fic, its just a fun little way for me to branch out and stretch those writing muscles 

They don’t pay you enough to keep guns under the counters, but it’s cheaper to teach you to shoot then it is to pay for security cameras. It would be cheaper not to show you to protect yourself at all, actually, but you’re the sixth cashier they’ve burned through in as many weeks. Even in a town as down as this one is, rumors spread fast. 

The wages are shit, but it’s all you’ve got, and college is expensive for a degree as useless as yours is. Four months away from becoming a junior, and you’ve only held unpaid internships and this position as a cashier at a dirty, old convenience store on the wrong side of the train tracks. 

You think the owner is hiding something, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking for a job as boring as this one. People come and go, make rude comments, pick up beer and slide you IDs you weren’t trained to check. It’s quiet enough to convince you to let down your guard, then your fingers brush the cold metal underneath the register and you remember the long line of unnamed, unknown girls who came before you. 

Keep reading

✧*࿐random cute texts: jjk ✧˖*࿐

✧ft: satoru, yuuta, yuuji, megumi & nanami

✧note: trying to get back into posting again. enjoy!!

✧ want your own customized texts from your favs? commissions are open!