hello ! i'm đđŹđđŤđđĽđ, she/her, your local oat milk addict, no. 1 lizzy mcalpine fan and ultimate fictional man kisser. i primarily write for l&ds and jjk, and i may not be the best of writers, but i will actually crash out if i don't write SOMETHING so expect spontaneous uploads of the odd drabble, headcanon and full fic âĄ
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ᯠthis blog is a safe space for any and everyone, so i humbly ask you to please not bring any kind of discourse into my inbox.
ᯠif you are below the age of sixteen, please don't interact. all of my fics are sfw and will remain that way, but they do tend to involve topics not suitable for younger adolescents.
ᯠi am a busy person. other than assignments, i have a job and a family to take care of. i write as much as i possibly can in the little free time that i do have, but things also depend on motivation, energy and inspiration. please don't pressure me, or nag me for updates. i thank you all for your patience.
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ᯠi do not take requests, nor do i write explicit content. my fics are usually borne of my own ideasâhowever, if you would like to send a suggestion/prompt/idea in, feel more than free to. i love hearing your thoughts <3
đ anon . đ§ď¸ anon . the pregnant geto anon . the overly excited beggar anon . the rereader anon .
many of you expressed concern at my disappearance in june/july 2024, and that was due to my account being broken into and deleted. originally, i joined and began posting my fics in may 2024, but i made a new account soon after the deletion and i have reuploaded most of my works to tumblr and ao3 since july. thank you all for such kindness, and the continued support throughout the year. i am blessed to have such lovely readers as you all.
all rights reserved Š kisstrela 2026. do not copy, repost, redistribute, translate, plagiarise or modify my work(s) in any way on any platform. thank you.
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chapter 13 of wfy is now live!! thank you all for waiting so long and patiently 𼚠and with that, however, is now the time for me to officially announce my hiatus and log off for the next month or so until finals are over đââď¸ plenty more updates to come afterwards!! once again thank you all for sticking with me!! <3
gojo taking yuji, nobara and megumi to the aquarium where he took rikoâŚâŚeven though it wouldâve brought back some very painful memoriesâŚâŚand watching over them as they admire the sights with that fond smile on his faceâŚ..hanging out and having fun on the shores of okinawa like he did 12 years earlierâŚâŚiâm gonna be sick
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yay the first chapter of my new gojo series is up!! only took me good few months lmao. hope you guys enjoy, i worked hard on it!! the fic is one im excited to get started with đŞ
i have this thing where i get an idea and start on the first chapter of it just to put the words down on the page before i lose interest in it a day later and let the doc gather dust for a few months. then i rediscover it, read it over, and go "why did i kinda cook w this?" because for once i'm not cringing myself out with my own past writing. but the thing is, i can write 10k of it, but after losing interest and dropping it, then rediscovering it again, i may THINK it's worth continuing, but i don't have the impetus or any further ideas to, yk???? or else it takes me about a year (looking at you ad infinitum) for me to get back around to it. it's hard to explain. it's always the ones i'm mildly satisfied with the premise of that never see the light of day lol
lowkey it's the emotional attachment you have to that one notepad you've had on hand to scribble down every idea and plot point and twist and backstory and worldbuilding notes and timelines etc etc etc and it's truly gotten you through thick and thin âšď¸ but now it's almost out of paper because you've used it so much âšď¸
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cw: MDNI. suggestive themes, insecurity, hurt/comfort, too many metaphors, quiet!reader, reader is implied to be the antithesis of Sylus; unlike him in almost every observable way.
w.c: 850 words.
notes: this is purely a vent, to be honest.
 Many a times, Sylus watched as the flurry of diverging shapes adorning your fragmented form dissolved into the shadows. Face overcast, strands of hair flowing over your cheeks, weaving your visage into an enigma; countenance unreadable as you, akin to the plentiful stars, faded beneath the crowdâs gleam. Â
You were used to living in shadows. Used to being a wallflowerâattaching yourself to a dull corner, climbing the darkness and eyeing the crowd from above.Â
âI find people more interesting than myself,â you had murmured, expressionless as your gaze traversed beyond the crowd, bleeding into their souls, âIâm merely a reader.âÂ
Your inquisitive stare bore into all but Sylus, but if you had bothered to cast him a glance, you wouldâve seen the frown etched deep into his face. Why would you yearn to disappear, when he had spent half his life preparingâpreparing to flaunt you, to blind himself with your shine, to hold you to the world and revel as they seethed at what they could never have? Â
âDonât you see?â His voice nudged, firm, unrelenting, breaking you out of your trance. âYou shine the brightest.â And yet, his words had never reached you. You only smiled, nodded, and returned, as if it were merely a compliment bestowed out of necessity, to play the part of love-struck mates. In your ignorance, his heart clenched. How could you ever see? Youâwho had veiled all mirrors, refusing to stare yourself in the face. You, who had refused to look into his eyes. You, who always retreated, stepping back as a crowd surrounded himself. And he would reach, lift his arm, call out your name, but you did not turn back.Â
The wind would not carry you to his arms, but in every lifetime, strip you away. And in this universe, you did not fight it, did not oppose the direction of its flow.Â
The nights you withered in silence, bubbling like an overflowing pot; he held you ever so gently. He would still the moon, silence the buzz of life if it had meant you would feel safer in this world. It was amidst the melancholy of these nights that he would whisper to you, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the dip of your palm, pressing gently on your vein, relishing in how it throbbed in sync with your heartbeat: âWe are kindred spirits. We are one and the same.âÂ
But at his solace, you would only respond with a soft smile and a bundle of words wrapped with your insecurityââWe are not alike. You and me, we are worlds apart.âÂ
Oh, how his eyes burned with tears at your upsetting ignorance. How your lover yearned to merely encompass you in his heart, to drown you beneath his ribs and let you peer into his writhing bag of flesh. For if you had, you would know: kindred spirits can be two souls so unalike; their only tether is their unbridled love. For adoration blossoms only amidst hearts that are kin. Â
âWe are wrong.â His heart would break at your words. âWe are not meant to be. You detest philanthropy, and I detest immorality. How could we have ever come to be?âÂ
âWhy have you chosen me? Why me, and not someone more like yourself? I am a bird who will never fly. I am the dove who will always choose the cage.âÂ
Sylus pushed his mouth up to yours, threaded through the strands of your hair, and reassured: âThe ways of the heart cannot be explained. It does what it wills, and cannot will what it wills.âÂ
And amidst some nights, when two bodies intertwined, moving against each other in a cocktail of bliss and sorrow, of sweat and stray tears, you would respond to him in agreement, tears bulging from your eyes, dripping down your lashes, curling in its path down your cheek; âBecause what is love if not discrimination?â A soft, trembling smile would adorn your face.Â
And in response, Sylus would cradle your cheek, kiss your tears away, and hold you up to the small world the two of you built upon your love. âNobody is a paragon. We are all selfish in our affections. Because a stubborn heart does what it wills.â A chaste kiss captured your lips, the devotion seeping into your tongue like bleeding watercolor. âBut bearing a heart is not a sin.âÂ
In each otherâs arms, you would unwind, unravel, and come undone a thousand times and over. You would bleed, laugh, wail, and love. Love is discrimination. Love is selfish. But the act of loving is not a transgression. Even if you fled from his unbridled adoration, Sylus would trust in your return. If you dissolved into the darkness, Sylus would stand as the object casting the shadow. For you to step outside your cage and spread your wings, your lover would perpetuate an eternity, and throughout that endless stretch of time, he would await the first whites of your feathers soaring in the sky.Â
âWe are kindred spirits,â Sylus smiled, âOur hearts will always beat in rhythm.âÂ
omg mappa was so QUICK with that modulo trailer and WAS THAT MY DEAD WIFE GOJO????????? IN THAT PHOTO WITH YUJI, NOBARA & MEGUMI???? HELLO????? letâs not do this! itâs an extremely sensitive topic for me!
i feel like it gets to a point where iâm like. can you get over it already. itâs not healthy to be crying three times a week over a fucking FICTIONAL characterâs death. like gojo isnât even REAL mate itâs been OVER 2 years đđ youâre a grown ass woman act like one
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hereâs to likely one of the wildest, if not THE wildest, things iâve written đââď¸ posting this to prepare you all and myself for whatâs to come in tmtylrâŚ.. sylus x reader
Heâs a good kisser. Heâs a damn good kisser. Heâs got you all breathless and frazzled and driven right out of your mind, and itâs been barely three minutes. Heâs way too good at this.
âSylusâmmfâ!â And the man is on you again, hardly letting you steal even a short breath of air, ravenous and insatiable and unyielding. Full lips hot and hard and velvety and soft and moulded to your own seamlessly, hands in your hair. He wonât stop. He wonât stop until heâs had his fill, and even then, heâll keep going.
âSoâŚâ Sylus is murmuring, head tilting this way and that, tongue laving against yours, âso beautiful. What didââ He puts next to no effort into hoisting you up by the hips further onto his lap, chest slotted to yours and rumbling with pleasured little groans and grunts and sighs into your mouth. ââthis wretch of a man do to deserve you, hm?â
Sylusâs hands are so big, and hold you so gently, so firmly, so securely, while you tangle your fingers in his soft locks and tug him a little closer. As if you both arenât about to practically fuse together from how there simply isnât even a sliver of space left between the two of you. You reciprocate his impassioned kisses with a vehemence of your own, and you clutch that warm, solid body of his to you despairingly, like heâs your saving grace. Maybe he is. âHmâSyâmmphâcanât breatheâŚâ
âNeed you,â he simply breathes in reply, voice a deep, winded rasp. âGod, sweetheartâhmâyouâre soââ
Your bleary eyes meet his half-closed ones, hazy and dark and molten, but holding an undeniable gleam of adoration. It brightens those scarlet hues of his, usually so dim with the blood heâs spilled, giving a shine to them that isnât commonly seen otherwise. Solely with you. He only ever looks at you that way. With a gaze only a jagged, fragmented man who has seen and done and suffered far too much is capable of.
It hollows out your chest and then replenishes it with warmth. Affection. Love. Heâs all purity and candour. How can a man so sullied be so blameless? How did you earn his devotion, his commitment, in all its earnestness and sincerity? Sylus wonât stop kissing you. Itâs like he canât. Itâs like it physically wounds him to part from you, and perhaps it drives deeper than the outward when it happens. His chest is heaving when he finally detaches his lips from yours with an audible smack, and his mouth hangs open, eyes staring up and at you with an intensity that roots you to the spot, puffs of heavy breaths softly gusting against your nape. âHaâŚHaâŚYouâyou okay, sweetheart?â
ââŚYeah,â you eventually reply, slumping, limp all over, burying your face into his sweaty neck. Your headâs spinning, as it always is after a heated session with the man. Sylusâs shirt is all crumpled, half-unbuttoned, wide, toned chest peeping out from beneath the silky material. Youâre not much different. âJustâŚneed to catch my breath.â
One of his hands settles on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles into your flesh. The other grasps your thigh, keeping you steady. âToo eager, was I?â
âYouâve been worse,â you snicker, perhaps a bit weakly, mouth throbbing. Your entire body is throbbing.
His head turns and heâs nuzzling your temple, burying his nose into your hair, kissing the crown of your head, as he chuckles too. âMy apologies, sweetheart, but I fear I have zero remorse.â
âOf course you donât.â Youâre smiling into his nape. âSuch a sentiment is nonexistent to you.â
âUh-huh.â And youâre suddenly being lifted off his shoulder and onto the cushions beneath, his powerful frame looming above you, all broad shoulders and big arms and a toothy smirk. âThat means thereâs something here to continue, without remorse, right?â
You smack his upper arm, biting back a grin. âShove it, you big oaf. You do realise weâve got a meeting to attend.â
Sylus is nudging your collar with his nose, pressing soft kisses to your skin. âEh.â His wide shoulders lift and lower with an indifferent shrug. âIt can wait.â