#K. A. writes things

[forlix]

· . ˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

— the moments in which the members of stray kids realize how they truly feel about you.

words・1.4k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / warnings・depictions of conflict and anxiety in hyunjin's and han's / genres・domestic fluff, smidges of hurt/comfort, established relationships

a/n・thought i'd try out a new fic format :-) i had so much fun writing these and hope you like reading them just as much. any and all feedback is appreciated, as always!

chan is in a heated staring contest with his notepad when the door opens, and he knows that it’s you who comes in, but his head is miles away, tangled in an amalgamation of syllables and rhythms. he goes on to forget that you’re here for a short while, poring over the unfinished lyrics in front of him with undivided focus. that is, until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

you’ve just pulled a chair up next to his desk. “lemme see,” you say, gesturing to the notepad. there’s a surprised pause, and then chan places it in your hand, scoots closer to you.

you spend the next two hours talking him through his block, but there are periods when you fall silent to brainstorm or to write something down, and chan takes those quiet opportunities just to look at you: wearing one of his old t-shirts, your hair still damp from your shower, completely concentrated. and he knows, then, that he wants to marry you.

minho doesn’t realize he loves you in a singular moment. rather, he has a faint inkling for some time, and then the rug is randomly pulled from beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he can’t remember a version of his world that didn't have you at its center.

there are times when he’s especially aware of his feelings, though. like when he throws a witty remark in your direction and your retort comes back twice as sharp. when your eyes and smile light up like lanterns as you talk to him about your passions. when one (or all) of his cats hover at your side as you go about your day. when he returns home after a grueling practice and you’re there to offer him your comfort, no matter his withdrawn demeanor or sweaty skin.

he is a quiet lover, and sometimes he worries that he’s too quiet, that you have no idea what’s going on inside him every time he looks at you. but words have never really been necessary with minho. you know. you just do.

changbin is greeted by a chilly breeze when he emerges from the gym, and he silently chastizes himself for forgetting to bring an outer layer yet again. but the temperature moves to the back of his mind when he spots you, waiting on the sidewalk, as you said you would. a familiar grin breaks across your face when you see him, and he feels its shape against his lips when he runs over and kisses you, in lieu of hello.

“what are you feeling for dinner?” you ask once he’s pulled away, and he realizes that you’ve pressed something to his chest: one of the hoodies that he keeps at your place, still soft and warm from just coming out of the dryer. and boom—the epiphany hits him, instantly and unequivocally.

he is dumbfounded for a moment, just processing the newfound discovery; and then, out of nowhere, the two of you say the name of the same restaurant at the same time. he swears he never believed in soulmates until he met you.

hyunjin has always held so many emotions in his heart so fervently, to the point that they sometimes overflow in the form of words that he doesn’t believe, in a tone that he doesn’t intend. and it happened again today, when he spoke to you the wrong way in a moment of pure impulse, and the surprise on your face morphed into poorly-disguised hurt.

a few hours later, the weight of his actions sits heavily on his shoulders. when he lifts his phone to call you, his hands are shaking a little, and a breathy apology spills from his lips the moment he hears you on the other end: “i’m sorry, angel. i’m trying, i promise. i really am.” to which you answer, “i know, hyune. i forgive you. we’ll keep trying together, okay?” and your words pull his heartstrings in a new direction entirely.

he asks if he can come over, you say yes, and he tells you he loves you as soon as you open the door. he’s done hiding his heart from you.

jisung’s contagious grin and raucous cackle come easily to him for the most part, but there are times when he forgets how it feels to laugh or to breathe, times when he wants only to hide from the world and all of its scariest parts. and when you see his figure in the doorway tonight, his face cast in a nameless shadow, his shoulders sunken in quiet defeat, you understand immediately that this is one of those times.

“do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as he approaches you. silently, he shakes his head: not tonight. but his body language asks for what he cannot verbalize. you extend your arms toward him, and he buries himself in them the second he’s close enough to, his face nestling the crook of your neck, the tension in his limbs melting at your gentle touch. you stay there for a long time, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, coaxing him back to the ground, back to you.

wherever he chooses to hide, he thinks he’d like to take you with him.

when felix opens his eyes, the space in the bed next to him is empty, and the faint scent of flour and sugar wafts through the gap beneath his door.

he gets to his feet, throws on some clothes, and wanders in the direction of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—and the sight that awaits him makes him wonder if he’s still dreaming. you’re standing at the stove, still in your pajamas, hair slightly disheveled from your rest, and there are pancakes in the frying pan before you; sliced strawberries on the cutting board next to the stove. and the look of sheer focus on your face, as if staring at the pancakes will cook them faster, absolutely destroys him. (and he knows in that moment that he wants to wake up to you for the rest of his life.)

with an enamored smile, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulls your back to his chest, and presses a light kiss to the nape of your neck. “morning, beautiful,” he mumbles sweetly. “how fucking lucky am i?”

being around you makes seungmin feel like a kid with a crush. he smiles brighter and laughs louder. he opens like a lotus in bloom when you say his name. the floaty sensation he gets when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand persists for hours afterward—and none of it makes any fucking sense to him. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in love, but he’s never believed that love could feel like this, straight out of a sonnet.

now, your head is on his shoulder, your body rising and falling in your slumber. seungmin looks at your interlocked hands where they rest on his knee, and at the current track displayed on his lockscreen: “still” by day6, a song about losing and loving, about regret and reminiscence. those bright days between us are over, the lyrics go, and he makes a silent promise to your sleeping form that the bright days between the two of you will never end.

the word "love" still doesn't cross his mind, but it is etched all over his face, and carved into his soul.

you and jeongin are telling each other about your days over dinner when your phone lights up with an incoming call, and he nearly spits out his mouthful when he sees who it’s from. for a few seconds, the two of you just stare at each other in flabbergasted silence. but then, you raise your phone to your ear: “hi, grandma! to what do i owe this pleasure?”

and the voice of his grandmother comes back through the receiver. she tells you that she’s just gone on an evening walk and found herself thinking of you, so she wanted to see how you’re doing; if you’re taking care of yourself. you rush to thank her, looking entirely flustered, and a bit like you’re about to burst into tears.

with that, the two of you launch into chatter about everything under the sun: grocery store discounts, the recent humidity, jeongin’s bad habits, you name it. and it finally dawns on jeongin how inextricably embedded in his life you have become—and that he doesn’t want it any other way.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[sweetshrew]

oh to be the pervy officer who’s determined you’re hiding something in your bra so i keep kneading and groping your tits, asking "what’s under here?" as i lift them up and let em drop. the tips of my thumbs trace the outline of your areolas and flick over your nipples, pinching and pulling on em just to smirk and mumble a "fuckin knew it. there’s somethin under here, huh?" when they start to harden.

who starts to half undress you for a ‘thorough’ search, threatening to write you up for indecent exposure if you don’t cooperate with me, telling you it won’t fare well for your career if everyone knows how much of a "needy slut who loves to show off" you are.

who sticks my hand past your waistband and runs my fingers over your lips, taunting you with the threat of being held overnight, knowing it’s only a matter of time before you beg me to "search" you so you can prove you’re not hiding anything.

who makes sure to slide 1, 2 more fingers in for good measure, curling my fingers against that spongy spot while i press the pad of my thumb against your clit. who coos at you when you grunt and squint your eyes but don’t protest. "such a naughty one. you gonna be like this in your cell too?"

who doesn’t let you cum (whether you'd admit or not, you wanted to). no, i "remembered" i hadn’t searched your mouth properly, so i quickly slide my fingers out, ignoring the way your desperate hole gapes and clenches around the space my fingers used to be before sticking all of them into your mouth all at once, and far enough so you don’t realize until it’s too late that a pill has slid down your throat, something i say will make you want it.

who, when you’ve finally sucked my fingers clean of your slick, slaps your ass and tells you to bend over the backseat. there’s one more hole i need to check…

[lesbionicandiconic]

Stacy’s mom… is a butch?

—————————————————

Contains: Fingering, strapon sex, risk of getting caught, cheating, age gap, breeding kink, daddy kink, possessive kink, rough sex. Most notably, mention of a character topping despite not really liking it, but in the end all stone related boundaries are respected within the action of this story. Enjoy!

———————————————————————

Wren had been dating Stacy for 6 months when she decided it was time to meet the family. Things has gotten pretty serious, after all. They saw each other multiple times a week, their friends had met, they had a beautiful candlelit 6 month anniversary dinner, it was the natural next step. And Wren Loved Stacy. Probably.

She hadn’t said it yet but it had to be true, right? It didn’t matter that she never quite felt that spark that people talked about, but that’s more a myth and a turn of phrase… right? Stacy was easy, comfortable, like a best friend. And the sex was… pretty good! All things considered. Wren had never been easy to please or quick to orgasm, not like Stacy. And she was sure that guilty twinge she got when she topped was just a little leftover perfectionism, because she wanted to please her girlfriend so badly.

Everything was going perfectly. Or as close to perfect as could possibly be expected.

Nothing could have prepared her for meeting Stacy’s mom.

She had been warned that Stacy’s mother was an old fashioned butch dyke, and not to be intimidated by them. Apparently they had gotten pregnant as a teen and came out a few years later, raising Stacy with a revolving door of girlfriends her whole life. When Wren saw them herself, she understood why they never seemed to be lacking for a woman.

Tall, short hair, thick arms undoubtedly filled with muscle and broad shoulders filled the doorway as Wrem stumbled her way through introducing herself. How could she not stutter and blush? The perfect image of a butch, dominant and suave was staring down at her with piercing eyes and a 50’s greaser aesthetic. For a moment she forgot she was standing with their daughter’s hand on her arm.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” She managed, sticking a hand out awkwardly.

They laughed, mouth twitching into a smirk, and shook her hand firmly. “Please, call me Sir, not ma’am.”

“Y-yes sir. Of course”

Wren tried not to think about how large their hand was, tried not to look like she was getting wet from a handshake.

Stacy just rolled her eyes and grabbed Wren’s arm, pulling her away from the butch’s strong grasp and inside the house towards the stairs.

“Ignore them,” she said, “They like to fuck with people, they think it’s fun. Let me show you my room, babe!”

Wren let herself be pulled away from the doorstep, but allowed just the quickest glance back. Her breath caught when her eyes met theirs, watching her go with the smirking expression of a predator who just spotted their next prey.

——

Wren tried to convince herself she was fucking crazy. Her girlfriend’s mom? Really? What kind of lesbian lunacy was she on now?

And of course Sir wouldn’t be interested in her, a femme half their age who was dating their daughter. The thought alone was insane. The way they had looked at her in the doorway was just her brain playing tricks after the long drive over. No, it was definitely all in her head.

She kept telling herself that the entire first week of the stay.

She imagined them staring at her while she sunbathed in the back yard in only a bikini.

She made up the time they grazed a hand over the small of her back while passing her in the kitchen.

She dreamt of a time when they complimented her dress before her and Stacy went out to the club, and the way their gaze dragged down her body with unconcealed lust.

She hallucinated when she found herself almost pinned against the wall of the hallway, hot breath ghosting over her lips as they wiped some chocolate from the corner of her mouth, large thumb nearly slipping between her lips before they walked away without another glance.

Eventually though, some things get impossible to deny.

Like the day they watched a movie together. The three of them, squished like sardines on the small couch facing the TV. Wren was in the middle, Stacy fast asleep next to her, and Sir on the other side, wide awake. A blanket draped over all three, keeping it cozy as period action clanged out from the television.

The movie was good, but not entertaining enough to make Wren not notice the brush of fingertips against her bare thigh. Not her girlfriend’s fingers, theirs.

She tried not to change her breathing, pretend like she didn’t notice. It could just be a innocent graze.

Those rogue fingertips drifted up the outside of her thigh, calloused and rough against her soft skin, then dragged down between her legs.

Not innocent.

Her breath caught. She could feel their gaze on her but she tried to keep her eyes glued to the screen, terrified that any acknowledgment of what was happening would make it stop. Their fingers pressed against her clit through the fabric of her shorts and underwear. She gasped, her eyes flicking to her sleeping girlfriend.

“She won’t wake up.” They whispered, barely audible over the TV’s noise.

Wren didn’t respond, she couldn’t fathom how to gather a single coherent sentence. Instead, she slowly opened her legs as wide as she could without disturbing Stacy. They got the message and chuckled softly, dragging their hand up to her stomach then diving underneath her clothes. The track of their fingertips felt burned into her skin. Even though they touched her lightly, she wondered if it would bruise and give away her filthy new secret.

Their fingers pushed past her clit and dipped into the wetness gathered below. She was dripping, sitting next to them for an hour with their shoulder against hers had already been tantalizing enough to get her desperate. They massaged over her folds and clit, exploring, drawing shuddering breaths from her lips.

“Do you want more?” They breathed against her ear. She burned with guilt and pleasure as she nodded.

One thick finger slowly pushed inside her. So much larger and somehow warmer than Stacy’s fingers. She slid down in her seat to help the angle as they start to shallowly thrust inside her. They soon added a second finger that stretches her deliciously, her eyes fluttering closed as ripples of pleasure spread through her body. She still can’t look at them, but she can feel their hot breath on her ear and face and her neck. She wonders if they’ll kiss her.

They push a third finger inside her and she can’t help but let out a squeaky moan. Stacy shifts, and the fingers in her pussy stop moving immediately.

Stacy rubs her eyes and groggily asks if the movie is still going on. Sir answers.

“Yeah it’s got like an hour left, why don’t you go to bed honey? We’ll finish it then head up after you.”

Wren nods, unable to speak and hyper aware of how her girlfriend’s mom’s fingers were stretching out her pussy beneath their shared blanket. So deep inside and just barely grazing her g-spot with how they curled.

“Yeah, okay that sounds good.” Stacy says, detangling herself from the blanket while barely opening her eyes. She leans down and kisses Wren on the mouth, Wren clenches involuntarily on the thick fingers inside her. “Goodnight babe.”

“Goodnight.” Wren Squeaks, trying and failing to keep the tension out of her voice. Luckily, Stacy is too tired to notice. She slowly stumbles up the stairs and moments later the door to her bedroom clicks shut.

Wren lets loose a ragged sigh of relief that turns into a low moan as the butch’s fingers start to move at a brutal pace. Faster than before, and curling deep inside her each time.

“That was close.” They growl, then hot lips connect to Wren’s neck and she feels herself ramping up to the quickest orgasm she’d ever had in her life. She bucks her hips into the palm of their hand and tilts her head so they can access more of her neck. With each thrust the base of their hand grinds against her clit until sparks fill her vision. The orgasm hits her like a truck. She clenches around their fingers, own hands twisted in the soft blanket.

In the aftershocks they pull the blanket back and extract their dripping wet fingers from her pussy. She gasps in ragged breaths, not sure what would happen next, only certain that she just experienced the best orgasm of her life with the last person in the world she should have.

“Clean them up for me.” Sir purrs in her ear, touching the wet fingertips against Wren’s open mouth. She obeys. She opens her mouth wide and sucks greedily on each finger as it’s presented to her, tasting herself. Stacy hated when she sucked on her fingers, but they let out soft groans as they watch her head bob while she meticulously licks her own cum off. Their clear arousal at her enthusiasm gives her a rush of courage. She takes all three fingers in her mouth at once, almost gagging on the length, and she makes eye contact for the first time that night.

It flips a switch in them. Only a moment after those piercing eyes meet hers, she’s straddling their lap with those rough hands moving all over her body, pulling off her flimsy pyjama shirt and leaving her breasts exposed to the cool air. They grope her chest roughly, pinching and twisting her nipples as she squirms against them. With a shock she realizes they’re hard packing. Stacy never used a strap. No matter how much Wren begged and pleaded, she didn’t like the way it brought men into the bedroom. But grinding her hips down on the hard plastic in their pants now, Stacy knew there was nothing man about this. This was all Butch. This was what she wanted.

She decides to own it, to take advantage of this butch and everything they were offering her. She wants it. She wants it all. So she digs her sharp nails into their back as they take a nipple into their mouth and suck. She drags her nails through their short hair as they leave hickeys all over her chest. Fuck it.

They grab her hips and lift her to her feet, then pull down her shorts and panties so she is left standing completely bare in front of them. The way they look at her body sets her on fire. Utter desire. Complete dominance.

She sinks to her knees between their legs and unzips their fly, peeling back the rough denim until a long, thick strap pops out. Her hands then travel up their torso, slipping beneath the white T-shirt and just barely grazing warm skin before their large hands stop her. She looks up with concern, worried that reality had sunk in and they had decided this was too much, too wrong. But instead they put her hands back on their waist, on the outside of their shirt.

“I don’t like to be touched on the first time. I need to know a girl better. And even then, I don’t bottom.” They explain, a twinge of pain in their eyes. They’d had this conversation before and it had not gone well.

But Wren didn’t feel disappointed, she felt warm tingles spread through her body. Comfort. Freedom to not do anything she wasn’t fully comfortable with. To fuck and be fucked without guilt.

“Do you kiss?” She breathes, completely captured by their eyes and messy hair and warmth radiating through their clothes.

“Yes. Do you suck strap?”

“I’ve never tried, but I want to.” She says, shifting her gaze down to the long silicone cock only inches from her face.

“Give it a go, pretty girl. I’ll reward you with a kiss.”

She nods, feeling her wetness dripping on the hardwood floor. Never in her life had she experienced arousal like this. With one hand she takes the strap, slowly pumping it like she’d seen people do in porn. Leaning in, she licks up the underside, then swirls her tongue around the head. Her eyes flick up to see their reaction, pleased to find their mouth hanging open and chest heaving. Without breaking eye contact, she takes the strap deep into her mouth until she gags. Then again, and again, taking it a little bit deeper each time. Their hand tangled in her hair, pushing her further onto their cock. Her hands grip their thighs through denim as she gags continually and tears run down her cheeks. They use her hair to pull her off and smile at the sight of her watery eyes and the drool connecting her mouth to the strapon. Wren smiles back. This is what she wanted.

They lean down and grab her hips, easily tossing her onto the couch next to them. Crawling on top of her, they spread her legs apart and slot themself between so the strap pokes at her entrance but doesn’t quite slip in. Wren moves her hips, needing something.

They kiss her.

Her world melts away. The perfect kiss, so teased and anticipated, bruising, dominant, attentive. She arches her back and wraps her arms around their neck. Almost twenty more years of experience kissing makes a master, their tongue slipping in and out of her mouth, they read her like kissing girls is their first language.

After an infinity or maybe just a few minutes she breaks away, “Please fuck me. Please Sir, I need it.”

They chuckle, “As you wish, baby.”

Strong hands grip the backs of her thighs, pushing them up to her chest, she grabs them and holds them there instinctually. They line up the strap with with her pussy, dragging it through her wetness.

“So fucking wet for me. Who knew my daughter’s girlfriend was such a slut.”

Wren whined, guilt and pleasure and desperation mixing to create a headrush. They laughed at her pathetic expression, and push deep inside.

She had never felt a stretch like that. Never been so impossibly full. She could suddenly understand what people meant when they described sex as rearranging their guts. With the strap fully seated inside her and the masculine weight looming over her, she knew she would never be able to fuck a femme again.

They hooked her legs over their shoulders, and grabbed her face with both hands. This position is a mating press, she knew that much. Her poorly repressed breeding kink raged to life just thinking about it. She melted when their eyes caught hers and she saw that they were just as affected by all this as she was, the hunger in their eyes vivid.

“Are you ready for this? I’m going to knock you up, pretty girl.”

She nearly came on the spot. “Yes yes yes please Sir, knock me up please.”

They responded by driving their hips forward.

Wren held on for dear life as waves of pleasure ripped through her body. She forgot about her girlfriend upstairs and moaned with each impact of their hips against hers. The base of the harness rubbing against her clit sent extra zaps of pleasure shooting up her stomach and down her legs. She had never felt pleasure like this. Never been fucked like this. They knew exactly what pace to keep and how to flick their hips to hit spots inside she had never known existed. The pressure kept mounting so she bit hard into their shoulder and dragged her nails down their back, claiming them, pushing down her screams of pleasure. They moaned loudly and fucked her harder, moving one hand from her face to her neck.

Putting pressure, they pulled back to look her in the eyes. “You’re with my daughter, and I’m about to get you pregnant. You should really start calling me daddy.”

Shame and guilt and extreme arousal brought tears to her eyes. “Yes daddy.” She moaned, her whole body burning in every way possible.

They kissed her hard then looked at her with that crooked cocky smile, the same way that they had looked at her in the hallway that first day. Like she was theirs.

“That’s my good girl.”

Wren came so hard she thought she might die. Her vision went black and every muscle in her body tensed and released all at once. Wave after wave crashed into her until she felt like she was floating outside of her body, but they kept fucking her at a brutal pace, drawing it out even further.

“Say my name.” They growled, their face flushed and thrusts getting sloppier, her pussy squelching obscenely with each movement.

She could barely think but managed to whine “D-daddyyyy!”

They thrust deep one last time and stayed there as they convulsed on top of her, ragged breaths hitting her neck.

They both stilled for a few minutes, catching their breath in silence. Eventually, they moved her legs off their shoulders, instead looping loosely around their hips. They didn’t pull out. Wren could feel her used pussy throbbing and clenching around the strap as they buried their head in her chest. Little kisses and bites trailing between her nipples, making her twitch and sometimes whimper. She traced imaginary patterns along their scalp, down their neck to the collar of their T-shirt, then back up again.

The movie was over, credits rolling by to a cinematic score. Reality started to sink back in. She had just fucked her girlfriends mom. On her girlfriend's childhood couch. With her girlfriend right upstairs, hopefully still asleep despite how noisy they had gotten.

In fact, her girlfriend's mom's strap was still inside her treacherous pussy.

She lifted their head from her chest and looked them in the eyes, “What now?”

They didn’t answer, simply leaning forward and claiming her mouth. Every thought and feeling of guilt melting away with the sensation of their tongue sliding over hers.

Everything was perfect.

They started thrusting again, slow and languid, sending aching pleasure rippling through her tired body.

“You’re mine now.” They breathed against her lips.

“Yes daddy.”

[littlelioncub43]

Ok but babying Eddie after a long day at work is the thot. (Be gentle, this is my first attempt at writing a fic in years 🪦)

He's been pulling longer and longer shifts down at the garage, wanting to make just a little more money so he can take care of you. He hates being away from you for so long, but he hates the idea of making you pay for things even more.

You hear the front door of your shared apartment close followed by his keys landing haphazardly in the bowl. He kicks his boots off and hangs his leather jacket up with heavy limbs before practically stomping down the hall to the couch. Just from the sound of his footsteps you can tell he's especially tired.

"Hey, baby," you coo to him in a gentle voice, smiling as he makes a tired little sound and beelines to lay his head in your lap. "Long day?" You ask as you start to rub his back in slow circles, noticing how his eyes shut to bask in the tenderness of your touch.

"Mmhmm... so many broken cars... too many, one might say," he responds in a tired voice and sighs. "And my hands hurt."

"Aww, I'm sorry, honey," you smile as you baby him, starting to lightly scratch his back the way he likes which earns you a pleased groan of relaxation. You love when he's like this, it's adorable how pouty and sweet he can get when he's tired. The guilt of seeing how worn out he is makes you want to dote on him, so you do. "Do you wanna go shower? You'll feel better when you're all cleaned up."

"Mm..." Eddie whines and wrinkles his nose at the thought of getting up right now.

"I can wash your hair for you?" You offer with a smile, your hand still scratching his back.

Now, that gets his attention.

"With your shampoo?" He peeks an eye open to look up at you.

"Sure," you say through a soft giggle, watching as a wide grin spreads across his face.

"I suppose I could go for a shower."

[jin-likes-to-write]

One Before The Road - Eddie Munson One Shot

Contains: cunnilingus/blowjob, p in v sex, daddy kink, dom/sub kink, lace kink, fucked into the bed, mating press, cock worship (if you squint), bratting, fiancée/fiancé and AFAB reader.

It was early morning, it was Eddies favorite time to view her. She looked beautiful in the morning light as she got ready for the morning shift at her job. The way she would pin up her hair, a spritz of White Rain to hold the soft waves of her hair, the morning glow would make her look like an angel.

The things he wanted to do to her right now is not something you would do to an angel. Hell wouldn’t think of it near an angel. But if that made him a sinner and would send him straight to hell he was fine with it.

Oh boy he was getting first class tickets.

Right now, laying on his back on the bed the two of them shared a thin sheet covering his lean frame, one arm tucked behind his head propping him up to view her. Her uniform for her body snuggly, it outlined the ample flesh so tantalizing for him. Slowly Eddie lowered his left hand down his stomach under the blanket fingers grazing over the base of his cock.

He was about to head back out on tour for the last leg of this local tour Corroded Coffin was doing. They had been doing a ten stop tour, the van broke down and they had to finish the last three spots over the weekend somehow. It was stressful to add the van repairs and two shows in one day meaning one show has to be a shitty time slot.

“Hey babes, how about you show daddy how much you’ll miss him this weekend?” Eddie called out, his voice had a seductive undertone that always grabbed her attention no matter what.

She called it his “daddy-dom” voice. Her head snapped around as her bright eyes flashed at him, a smile forming on her lips watching his hand stroking his cock under the blanket.

“I can be a little late.” She teased, as she pulled off the right tank top, the sore excuse of a uniform top.

“Oh baby this won’t be a short session.” Eddie declared as she moved over to the bed pulling back the blanket.

Before I could react, my long term partner had me on the bed picking me up with ease. Eddie Munson looks scrawny and unable to pick up a woman and manhandle her properly in bed but oh boy can he.

And manhandle me, he did.

In a swift movement, Eddie had slid himself down flat on the bed and me on top of him. Letting out a shocked and excited yelp I felt his long, calloused fingers pull down the shorts of my uniform and reveal I wearing lacy underwear.

“Fuck, babes you are wearing that lacy underwear I bought you? God, damn that is so hot, I’m going to eat you out just like that.”

“Wore it just for you Eddie.” I moaned as I settled myself on top of him gently stroking his cock, fanning my breath over the head.

“Excuse me?” Eddie said in a deep, authoritative tone, the cool air that swept over my hot pussy as he spread my legs and ass cheeks a little keeping the underwear on.

“Hmm?” I teased, knowing I was beating him wiggling my ass at him my breasts spilling from the bra I was still wearing.

“Sweetheart.” Eddie warned a hand smacking my right ass cheek cautiously, sending a shiver down my spine my pussy clinching prematurely.

“I wore it just for you Daddy!” I shouted as buried his face between my legs tongue dragging over the laced covered clit.

Eddie was more than skilled with his fingers but his tongue was master class. As his tongue was working my clit I gripped the shaft of his cock a bit firmer, his body twitching under me. Switching the pressure I applies to his shaft as I twisted it up and down the tip of my tongue grazing over the head of his large cock.

Left hand moving down I cupped his balls, squeezing them enjoying the groaned into my pussy as he pressed his face harder against me. Massaging his balls in my left hand I took the head of his cock into my mouth sucking hard.

“Damn you - ah nails damn…so good.” Eddie growled as a hand snaked in between my legs pulling the lace aside as shoved two fingers inside of my pussy brushing his index finger on the left side of my clit.

Letting out a panting whine, my hips gyrating some as his fingers worked my clit along with his tongue. Pushing his cock all the way down my mouth, gagging loudly knowing he enjoys the loud and messy blowjobs. Bobbing my head up and down, spit ropes coming from my lips to the head of his cock as each time I pulled my head up all the way making loud lewd pops.

She continued with the head bobbing up and down, her soft curls catching in the morning glow her lips wrapped around his thick cock, attempting to suck his soul right out of him. And he was all for it. It took a lot for him not to start thrusting up in her pretty mouth, the way the warm tongue moved around his shaft would always send his eyes rolling in the back of his head. She held herself to the base of his cock there was drool pooling down to his balls around her hand that unfurled fingers that pressed against his asshole causing him to whine.

“No one sucks my cock like you my love.” Eddie whined as I pushed an index finger into his ass, slowly pulling up on his cock slowly.

I dragged my lips up his thick cock, sucked as hard as I could as I got to the head releasing it with a loud pop. I pulled my ass away from Eddie, causing him to growl as his hands grabbed my ass pulling me right back to his face.

“I’m the only one sucking this magnificent cock, right daddy?” I questioned as he pushed another finger in and fully into my pussy pushing past the drenched lips.

“Only you my fiancée.” Eddie reaffirmed as his fingers curled up against my g-spot.

“Yes!” I shouted in agreement as my body shook the coiling in my stomach sharpening as an orgasm was close.

Enthusiastically I went back to sucking his cock, slobber drenching his thighs, my face as I gagged several times loudly as I enjoyed the feeling. It felt so good to have his cock force my mouth open wide, the smack into the back of my throat as I heard his groans each time I did. The way his moans and growls would send me reeling, my pussy getting wetter with each angelic sound spilling from his lips this vibrations against my sensitive pussy. Eddie was working his magic with his tongue and fingers, the underwear was drenched now. He started to move his fingers in and out rapidly, his fingers pushing against the right spots not like he didn’t spend the majority of detention last semester learning all the best spots to finger my pussy.

“Eddie! I’m - imma gonna cum!” I barely shouted as my body couldn’t contain the orgasm anymore as his fingers were thrusting into me, the flat of his tongue on my clit.

I had released his cock from my mouth as Eddie lifted me up bodily tossing me onto all fours. Swiftly the wet underwear was pulled down to my knees and Eddie was kneeling behind me.

“That sweet pussy is so fucking drenched.” Eddie groaned as his shoved his cock right in between the wet lips, spreading me right open.

“And tight!” Eddie added shouting as his cock bottom right out against my cervix.

Eddie mounted me, my body was folded up under him as his wiry body covered me as he pounded into me. His thrusts were deep and mind numbing with each smack against my cervix, just fucking me through the first orgasm. His left hand pressing down on the bed above my shoulder pinning me in spot, the morning light shining against his many rings.

I could feel his body press me roughly into the mattress, the slap our bodies colliding as he thrusted into me, spreading me open and filling me up with his girthy cock. Panting and moaning shrilly into the mattress as he continued to fuck me through the orgasm, I could tell he was close the way the vein in this cock was throbbing wildly that brushing against my clit sent my body shaking. He gripped me tight his hands enjoying the soft flesh as he kept up the pace wanting to fuck all thought out of me.

“Just think of how good my cock feels in your tight pussy. The way it just fits around me so perfectly, you are such a good girl taking my cock so deep and so hard.” Eddie whispered in my ear the dirty words spilling from his lips like a waterfall.

“Such a good girl taking Daddy’s cock like a rockstar.”

I wanted to respond, to shout I was a good girl but the ability to even think about speaking was so dazed out from euphoria of his cock pounding into me. All I could manage was squeals and grunts, as my mouth hung open enjoying the feeling of him spreading me open and just using my pussy for his pleasure.

“Ready for me to fill this tight, wet and bewitching cunt full of my cum? Just watch as it drips down your thighs.”

He couldn’t hold himself anymore, Eddie started to thrust erratically from fast and rapid to slow and sensual as he tried to hold a bit longer. Clenching the walls of my pussy tightly around his cock, he let out a breathy whine as it was harder for him to thrust into me as I was gripping so tightly.

“Fuccccckkk!” Eddie growled as he fell over the edge into his orgasm, spurting hot ropes of cum deep inside of me.

“Eddie!” I keened in response orgasming with him, toes curling and eyes rolling.

Short, deep powerful thrusts he emptied all of his cum deep inside of me. Eddie had his face buried into my neck as he breathed in deep ragged breaths as he came down from his high. Both of our bodies did little shakes and twitches as his cock slowly softened inside of me, trickles of cum coming out.

“I’m going to be really late for work.” I giggled after catching my breath.

“You are calling out today, sweetheart I’m bringing you with me on the last bits of this tour.” Eddie said breathlessly, slowly massaging my arms and legs. “Let’s get you in the shower though.”

[lara635kookie]

Rujinu Relationship Headcanons:

• So this happens after canon

• Jinu comes back, and as demons are not under Gwi-ma's control anymore, they don't steal souls as much

• Because they don't need it

• A few of them do and the girls just deal with them easily

• But the Saja Boys are back as just idols who don't steal souls even though they are still demons

• The move at Idol Awards and Namsan Tower is seen by the fandom of both groups as a big storyline collab to promote the Saja Boys's first comeback after they debuted with Soda Pop (Your Idol), and the Huntrix's first full album (How It's Done is their debut) (The album single is What It Sounds Like and Golden and Takedown are b-sides, Takedown being one of those songs the girls never perform)

• It works

• Both Your Idol and the girls entire album chart like it's easy

• Tons of PAK's (Perfect All Kill)

• And a lot of streams in all global platforms

• Because the whole world is literally taking turns hearing one song and then hearing the other

• While the Internet goes crazy over Zoeystery and Miromabby too, they go CRAZIER over Rujinu

• We know in real life people would be sending death threats and trucks in protest to the labels

• But I'm inspiring Rumi and Jinu in one case that South Korea actually supported them

• Supported them so much they ended because the midia didn't leave them alone and they had no privacy

• If you know Kpop, you know who they are, but I'm not going to say it just so people don't think I'm hating on any of them

• Rumi and Jinu wouldn't have this problem with the midia because Rumi hid her marks for years and the Saja Boys still hide the fact that they are demons pretty well

• So they would be pros at avoiding paparazzi, etc

• They would only give to the midia enough about them

• But after Jinu came back, they didn't immediately get together as one might think

• Rumi gave Jinu his soul back so he can be truly free by owning his own soul instead of his soul being owned by Gwi-ma or by her

• Rumi told everything that happened between Jinu and her to Mira and Zoey, but in a way to hide the fact she's in love with him

• The only thing she didn't mention was Free

• After all that was their song, and a romantic duet would give her feelings away and a lot of room for teasing

• The thing is Rumi and Jinu are clueless and dumb af

• They clearly like each other, everyone can see it, but they just won't do anything about it

• They are both the leaders and main vocals in their respective groups, they have the same age (to the fans), they both had an alluring beauty, etc

• So the things they had in common just made the fans become obsessed with them

• And they gave reasons to

• The "discreet" looks and little smiles at events were all there

• When they became MCs together for Music Bank, the world became a better place

• Their first MC Stage was Soda Pop (In Dolphin by Soobin and Arin and Butter by Wonyoung and Sunghoon style) and their last MC Stage was Your Idol (but they performed Huntrix's songs during their time on the show, and they became the k-pop idol duo to stay there for the longest time and they just had to leave because of their schedule and the producers just kept begging them to stay, but in the end they hosted it for one year and one month)

• In Award shows, every time the other was performing and the camera would focus on one of them, their eyes would glow, and they would sing and make little dances and then try to disguise it

• One time, a male host at an award show was asked by the female host, which groups or kpop singers he liked the most

• He answered:"I listen to TWICE, Meovv and... Saja Boys, and personally I am a fan of HUNTR/X's Rumi"

• The Saja Boys were standing at a corner waiting for the announcement of the winners, and Jinu's face is just covered in pure and sheer jealousy looking at that host on stage

• Romance cracks up in laughter

• Baby just smiles and looks at Jinu like he knows what's up

• Mystery lets a chuckle escape

• Abby trying not to laugh even whispers on Jinu's ear:"Remember, we don't steal souls anymore, buddy" and gives him a little punch on his back and friendly wraps his arms around his shoulders in a way to hold him to make sure he wouldn't attack the poor guy

• When they are announced as the winners, Jinu stays behind Abby all the time

• In a way it makes it impossible for the male host to reach him to shake his hands, only shaking hands with the female host and making it look like an accident

• In another award show, Jinu, that will be in a k-drama as the male lead for the first time, has a surprise performance with the lead actress to promote the drama

• When the performance is announced, Rumi immediately tries to contain a little smile

• "Jinu solo performance, I'll enjoy this" She thinks

• Then the lead actress appears, and her smile is gone, but she tries to keep a professional face

• It was the first time Jinu sang alone with another woman that wasn't her

• And God, didn't she hate every second of it

• The idea of Jinu singing a romantic duet with another girl was almost too much to bear

• The performance ends with an almost kiss (who was a planned part of the performance of course)

• Rumi has to drink lots of water to calm down and see if her face becomes less red, making sure the water bottle would hide her face

• Mira is enjoying it with a smirk

• While Zoey, also enjoying it, tries to help saying it's their characters, it's not real

• But then, after the performance, the lead actress keeps laughing at Jinu, making eyes at him, and she even touches his arm for a split second at the post-performance interview

• To Rumi, that was torture but she was hiding it as much as she could

• Later that night, while on their parenting duties with the tiger Derpy and the magpie Sussie

• Rumi asks him why he didn't mention the performance

• He says he wasn't allowed to because it was a surprise

• Jinu reassures Rumi he's got nothing with that actress

• And him and that actress never sing together again

• And it's later announced Rumi has an ost in said k-drama

• And they were seated together at the premiere

• And gave excuses to stay close to each other at the red carpet

• They later have a photoshoot for a very famous korean magazine together with Abby

• It was super clear Abby was third wheeling

• People barely noticed him there because not even his hot body could take attention to the chemistry Rujinu had

• After all of this, they finally decide to confess their feelings and start dating

• Thank God, Mira, Zoey and the other Saja Boys couldn't take it anymore

• The few Instagram posts they had started to match, with fans noticing accessories and exclusive jewelries from very specific brands, and not soon enough their feeds were almost the same

• And of course, it didn't take long for Dispatch to take photos of them in dates in couple outfits

• They let themselves be photographed on purpose so their labels could confirm it and they could live their lives normally

• They were very private

• So you can imagine the absolute CRASH that happened on Instagram when Jinu, now staring at a movie, appeared with Rumi at the red carpet of Cannes

• He knew it was going to happen but he decided to post anyway for shits and giggles

• He needed a new phone after that

• They almost never have their dates on their houses

• Otherwise Mira and Zoey and the other saja boys would tease them way too much

• Jinu helped Rumi with her demon side

• They always went to watch the other in an event disguised

• And left the place from behind

• Got married after 5 years of relationship

• Jinu insisted the family took Rumi's last name "Ryu" instead of his last name (Choi), becoming officially Ryu Jinu

• Had a daughter named Ryu Somi

• In terms of appearence, Rumi's genes barely even tried

• Nine months in her womb, making her suffer for Somi to look like her stupid dad

• Of course she had a human form

• But as Rumi is half demon (50%) and Jinu is full demon (100%)

• That makes Somi 75% demon

• In her human form, she has more patterns than Rumi and less than Jinu

• Her patterns shine with a rainbow color discreetly but still slightly more evident than Rumi's

• In her demon form, both her eyes turn gold instead of just one

• And her skin also becomes purple, but a lighter shade of purple than Jinu's

• Naturally blessed with otherworldly visuals

• She can also sing, dance, rap, act, and play many instruments

• Unlike Celine, Rumi and Jinu never told her to hide her patterns

• Derpy and Sussie sleep in her room

• And this happy family lived happily ever after for centuries

[sweetieviktor]

"it's the tradition", feat. viktor.

summary: it's christmas in runeterra and couples are sharing kisses under the mistletoe.

word count: 1.000. (yes! exactly 1k im happy with it :]

content warning: just fluff as always! :DD (written with s1 viktor in mind!!!

author notes: ITS 5AM AND IVE WRITTEN 2 FICS IN A DAY, maybe im going to die but fuck it we ball. love viktor and love xmas, i wish i could use sweaters but in brazil december is sooo hot but yeah, here it is a lil something for the holidays. hope u like it!! :)))

whenever some holiday approaches, piltover academy is adorned in it's colour by students. it's december and the halls are decorated with reds and greens all the way, bringing joy to those who look up and see the fairy lights blinking slowly to them. christmas is coming, and so is winter.

everyone is using their thickest coats, but there's still some people who are cold, even if they are holding hot drinks to warm up both their hands and their body, or if they are rubbing their arms, creating some friction that could maybe help it, or sharing kisses under the mistletoe meticulously placed on the tree near the entrance of the academy, which have all kind of things hanging on it. some letters addressed to santa, little brilliant baubles made in all type of materials you could think of, red bows and colorful lights, all made by it's students.

you wanted to spend your day like this, enjoying over your partner's warmth under the mistletoe. well, life isn't fair. he was already working and you needed to work too, but maybe you could bring him some sweet milk and cookies on your lunch break, right?

so once the clock hitted midday, you walked to the cafeteria, the same one you and viktor got out on your first date, and ordered enough cookies for both of you. the women on the other side of the counter packed them to you, putting the little bag on your right hand, while you carried the cup of sweet milk on the other. finally, you got out, hands full, hoping that you could bring him some of the christmas spirit when leaving those in the lab.

when you made it to the academy again, it was even more crowded than earlier, students going in and out, chatting and joking around, throwing snowballs at each other and playing in the snow. and again, the couples kissing under the mistletoe. and all you could think of was him. oh, how you missed his kisses. so you hurried up, the flashy holiday themed colors in the halls blending together in an indistinguishable blur.

once you reached his lab, you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for an answer. you could feel how your heart thumped against your ribs, maybe it's the nervousness or just because you runned all the way to come here in time. “come in,” was all you could hear from inside.

you turned the door knob, pushing it so you could enter the lab. he was hunched over his desk, but once he looked past his shoulder, realizing you were the one who got in, his golden eyes immediately lighted up, just like the fairy lights, but shined even brighter when he seemed the baked goods you carried, then turning again to his work, “just wait a bit, i will finish this, ehh- hopefully soon.”

you came from behind him, leaving both the bag and the cup over his desk, “i know these are your favorites,” you put your hand on his shoulder, “and it's my break now, but soon i need to get back to work,” his hand stopped, no longer making calculations. he looked up at you, then at the papers in front of him, thinking if he should or not give in.

sighing, he let the pencil over the papers. you knew he would keep working if you didn't say it. “i guess i could give myself a break, then,” the corners of his mouth quirking up while he reached for the bag, opening it and letting the smell of the cookies bathe the place, bringing coziness alongside it. he shoved his hand on the bag, picking one up and biting onto it, humming softly when it melted on his tongue, then bringing the almost half cookie to your lips, only to put away and eat it himself.

he was laughing loudly, keeping a hand over his mouth, to prevent any crumbs from coming out. “you ain't fair,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. you knew he was just joking, but you wanted to eat too, “i brought those so we both could eat. together!”

“i know, i know!”, he said, getting the cup of sweet milk and taking a sip of it, “but it's fun to tease you. can't help it,” he shrugged, looking at your pouty expression turning into one of anger. picking another cookie, he proceeded to feed you first, your frown immediately disappearing. he was trying to not laugh again, but he couldn't contain it, as he did so, soon the frown came back to your face.

“stop making fun of me and let me eat, for jannas's sake,” you also couldn't keep your smile from growing, it was such a good atmosphere that, even if you were mad at him for stealing your cookie and laughing at you, you couldn't be mad for longer than thirty seconds.

you were laughing with him, happy with how your lunch was going, eating and talking, so busy with everything that you didn't see him fidgeting, looking for something inside his jacket pocket. once there was no more food nor milk, he cleaned his hands, bringing one over you both, holding something up. a mistletoe.

you scoffed, running your hand over your face, “really, viktor?”, you were astonished, he truly got one of those just he could have an excuse to kiss you?

“well, it's the tradition, isn't it?”, he grinned, placing his free hand on your waist, bringing you closer, “any person who's under the mistletoe must kiss, it's correct?”

“yes, absolutely correct,” you put both hands on each side of his face, kissing his lips softly, tasting the sugar on his mouth. “but you taste like milk and cookies,” you kissed him again, just to make sure you got it right, “maybe next year i will bring you more of these, so we could kiss under the mistletoe again.”

“oh, christmas may be my favorite holiday now.”

[zuppizup]

Don't get me wrong, I see the appeal of Rayllum as parents working extra hard to defeat Aaravos (I am writing In Absentia, after all)

But...

Seven years of longing? Of pining for the quiet domestic life they got a quick glimpse of? Wanting to relax and begin that next stage of their life, but the anxiety gets to them every time. Whenever they contemplate maybe things will work out. Maybe they've prepared well enough. Hopefully, they're strong enough.

This time they'll truly win.

For good...

But what if they're not?

What if one of them doesn't make it this time?

What if they leave their kids as orphans?

What if Aaravos targets their children?

And so they decide to wait. Seven years isn't that long and they'll still be young then.

They'll have more than enough time.

Even if Lira teases them every time she sees them, if she doesn't pick up on the smiles that don't quite reach their eyes.

"Shouldn't you have some by now if you want ten?!"

It's safer to wait...

[out-of-the-blue-comic]

Hope to get this next update done by the end of the month! In the meantime, here's a sneak peek of what's to come.

[rainyyy-dayysss]

I like canceled plans. And empty book stores. I like rainy days and thunderstorms. And quite coffee shops. I like messy beds and overworn pajamas. Most of all, I like small joys that a simple life brings.

[pastafossa]

"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

As a reminder, if you'd like notifications when I post something, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door. 

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring. 

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional. 

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless. 

Asleep. 

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him. 

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused. 

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh. 

You were wearing his shirt. 

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned. 

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest. 

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied. 

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down. 

Gentle. 

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you. 

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep. 

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him. 

God, your scent. 

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you. 

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt. 

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.  

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids. 

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe. 

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit. 

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips. 

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too. 

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?” 

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you—even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him. 

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it? 

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter. 

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”  

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours,  ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat. 

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again. 

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan. 

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken. 

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets. 

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep. 

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more. 

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep. 

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both. 

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep. 

Satisfied with what he’d given you. 

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist. 

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.” “Mm.”

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[silversinfinity]

Taste Of Your Own Medicine

*this is a fetish blog- non-fet blogs and minors DNI (no age in bio -> blocked)*

Fandom: J/ujutsu K/aisen

Spoilers: None

Pairing/AU: N/anaG/o, normal universe set during N/anami's Salary Man Era TM

Length: ~2k

Tags: sneeze fetish content, sickfic, sneezing via flu swab test, inducing, light contagion themes, mess

ANON, IT'S BEEN 84 BILLION YEARS... ARE YOU STILL OUT THERE 😭😭😭

It’s 5/7 for a few more hours here still, aka n/anag/o day!! So I’m taking it as a sign to kick myself in the ass and drop a little n/anag/o treat for you all 🤑 I loved writing this when I first started it, and then I lowkey forgot about it, and THEN couldn't find the document when I remembered it existed... 😭 it’s been a long journey for a mere 2k words, woof!

Fanfic Masterlist

It’s surely the flu. Surely. Anything else would feel far better than this. 

Far better than the brain fog, the lethargy, the massive pressure behind his eyes and sinuses. 

Far better than the fever that stole his sleep last night, left only to shiver, sweat. Too hot with a blanket, too cold without. 

And anything else would be far, far better than the body aches. That was the worst of all, the thing that dug the last nail into Nanami's personal coffin. Everything hurt, dull yet wickedly persistent- even the very hairs on his head weren't an exception. He didn't know hair was capable of hurting, and boy, he's finding it out the hard way.

And maybe, maybe, despite all that, it would all be far better, if not for the annoying weight currently clinging to Nanami’s shoulders.

“Get off of me.” Gojo only presses into him heavier, mocking the few inches of height he has on him.

“Come back to bed then,” Gojo whines in his ear. Nanami’s headache squeezes tighter at his temples.

He sighs, breath crackling unpleasantly in the lower depths of his lungs. Though grating, Gojo’s voice has never sounded so convincing. “Trust me, I wish I hadn’t left.” The misconduct in his lungs catches on the end of his words with a weak, wheezing cough.

It should motivate him, at least. The sooner he gets this done, the sooner he can go back to bed, and hopefully, sleep.

Gojo rests his head on Nanami’s shoulder, idly watching him tear open the plastic wrapping in his hands. “Why even bother testing?” he mumbles, cheek squished against him.

“I need proof to get time off.”

“Man, your job sucks.” 

“Thangks, Captain Obvious.” Nanami wishes again that he would stop talking, just so he didn’t have to hear himself reply. The congestion dragging his consonants down is unpleasant to his ears, only worse layered over the roughness of a sore throat.

While Gojo manages to hold his tongue, Nanami assesses the items below him. He hovers his hand above the test kit on the counter, with a long q-tip lazingly perched between two fingers. His eyes glaze over the instructions; this isn't the first time he’s ever taken such a test, but a refresher never hurts. 

… Whether looking at it actually helped refresh anything was contentious, however. The font and diagrams were muddy where they lay, only legible enough to jog his memory.

15 seconds in both sides, mix the end into the tube of fluid, place a few drops into the test strip, and then wait for the result that wouldn't surprise anyone with an ounce of common sense.

Easy enough.

…Sort of. Nanami’s eyes water the instant the cotton swab touches just inside one nostril. A sharp tingle radiates up into his sinuses and lingers. He dreads actually moving the thing, knowing it will only prod and tease at each swollen, sensitive nerve within. 

Simply holding it in place won't do him any good either, though. He does as instructed, swirling the cotton tip along the walls of his nasal passages in a circular motion. The urge to sneeze increases tenfold. Nanami scrunches the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed in a tight, focused squint.

Gojo notices all of this, much to his dismay. “Don’t sneeze…” he sings into his ear. 

And Nanami nearly does. “HHdt-!” Tongue smacked to the roof of his mouth, he manages to withhold the urge from completely seizing him. But just barely. He blinks tears from his eyes. 

“Cand you please nod- guh…” Nanami is left with a lingering, even thicker congestion, if that's even possible. He should really blow his nose, except that he also really shouldn't, not until this test was over. 

The cotton swab dips into his other nostril- the one that's more sensitive of the two, because of course one of them has to be. It's the one Gojo has a better view of, too. Oh, joy.

Nanami’s breath catches almost instantly, only to release in an uncertain, tight exhale. “...hehh…” Gojo sees his abused nostril flare up and twitch, hiking upward as the entire bridge of his nose crinkled. Torturously, he swirls the cotton swab once, twice, three times. Hand trembling, breath shaking. The natural lines of his face turn more rigid to match his expression, barely holding it together. 

Don’t sneeze. Don't sneeze. Gojo’s earlier advice echoes in his head, much as he loathed it at the time. Just a few more seconds…

“That looks like it really tickles…”

It's a few more seconds too long, and Gojo’s urging is the final straw. “hhuH-!” Nanami gasps loudly, urgently, shuddering under the other sorcerer’s still incessantly pressed weight on him. That inward breath messily crashes into the main production- “hEHH’SHIEhh-! hEHHH’ZSHHieh-!” His shoulders jostle violently. His throat barks through the deepest parts of it, fully exposing the flu-centered trauma his vocal cords carry.

Spray sprinkles wet, grey dots in a random pattern on his shirt, baggy and soft to the touch. Gojo’s weight against him only lightens a little, although Nanami is too distracted to care or notice. “hhdh… hiH-!” Without opening his eyes, he draws up for a precursor to another sneeze. He clumsily grabs the collar of his shirt, ducking down within the fabric this time- “hiehHH’SCHFHH-!”

Oh, God.

“Oh. Bless you.”

Gojo says it like he's surprised to hear him sneeze. Nanami feels a vein threaten to bulge on his temple.

Pinching away any excess evidence with his shirt- he winces when the damp fabric touches back to his chest- Nanami re-emerges with a scowl no less irritated than before. In his other hand hovers the soiled cotton swab, having been yanked from his nose the second before disaster. 

He blinks away the stars that dance in his vision, wondering if it's possible to actually sneeze his brains out. The pain behind his eyes swells significantly, heightening his suspicions. Ugh.

He glances back down at the instructions. Right, next step. Into the tube the cotton swab goes, and Nanami swirls it, pushing against the sides of it. Just watching the motion stirs a tingle high in his sinuses, having not quite abandoned the sensation of the swirling motion.

Nanami glances at his watch after applying a few drops to the test strip. 6:51. He'd know by 7:06, then. 

Gojo watches him set his watch, cheek pressed into his shoulder. “Hm… I don’t see anything in those instructions about sneezing all over yourself?” he teases.

The vein from before does finally bulge on his temple. He’s almost- almost- exhausted enough to sigh another sigh and let it go. But there’s fifteen minutes he needs to kill before he can send his halfwitted boss a picture of this stupid test, and Gojo doesn’t sound like he’s going to become any less insufferable in that time. 

A taste of his own medicine might shut him up, or at the very least dent his pride. The unopened test kit resting on the counter is snatched into Nanami’s hand. He pauses for a dreadfully damp sniffle. “Gojo, I don't suppose you'd like to show me how to do this properly, then?”

Silence. Then, the other man tilts his head. “That’d be a waste of a good test, wouldn't it?”

“Haven't you considered that I might be contagious?” Might be, he says- more like definitely, absolutely. “Antivirals work better if you catch it early, you know.” Nanami maintains an even tone under the blanketing congestion.

“ …My Infinity protects me.”

Nanami pulls the new, fresh cotton swab from its packaging, careful not to touch the soft end. “You’re touching me right now, though.” And all this morning. And all last night. Satoru Gojo, the Strongest, Clingiest, Sorcerer in the world.

Said Sorcerer finds nothing to argue back with, instead speaking a short, “Fine.” Though his blindfold conceals his eyes, the pout on his lips is enough for Nanami to imagine the faux, pity-seeking look they’re wearing. Good thing he knows better than to fall for it.

Quicker than before, Nanami arranges the test tube and test strip on the counter top. Fresh cotton swab still in hand, Gojo actually steps back an inch when he faces him, showing reluctance. It's a rare emotion for him to express so physically.

He takes Gojo’s chin in one hand, holding him in place. The other man grimaces. “Hey, I can do it- myself, ya know…!”

”This is how Shoko would do it, and a doctor knows best. Chin up.” His hand grips a little firmer, and he tilts Gojo’s head up and towards himself. It’s an angle suited to expose his- and he hates to admit it- absolutely perfect nose. A straight, long bridge complimented by a set of narrow, symmetrical nostrils, all aesthetically framed by the dark fabric of his blindfold. 

Given a few minutes though, it won't look nearly as composed.

Nanami doesn’t bother to warn Gojo when he slips the cotton swab into his nose. The other man gasps reflexively, and the bridge shivers in protest. Nanami’s hold on his chin keeps him steady though. 

Any other day and he certainly wouldn't tolerate getting sneezed on- especially by someone who got on his nerves so regularly. But considering current circumstances, he can't find it in himself to care. He fully intends to change into a fresh pair of sweats after this test, not to mention that he's already dealt with enough of his own outbursts and fluids in the last 24 hours- what's a little more?

It would be worth the brief euphoria that came with getting payback, until his headache along with all the other bits of his misery tugged him out of that moment.

He changes the angle of the swab just slightly, softly bumping the shallow top wall of his nasal passages. Gojo swallows under Nanami’s palm. A circle is drawn along the rims of one nostril, and then another. His lips part to whine, but the sound melts into a telltale hitch.

“Nanhha- Nanami, whhait-hih-hihHH’SHIhh-!” Nanami doesn’t stop, nor does Gojo. “hyH’SHh-! ihhk‘SHieh-!” They’re fittish, rapid, and yet they drag out of him, like the last bit of juice squeezed from a lemon. He's trying to hold them back, but his willpower is faltering under Nanami's efforts and hurling out his throat instead.

A few more sneezes later, and Nanami gauges it's been long enough. He wordlessly removes the torture device from Gojo’s nose, and he sighs something between relief, exasperation, and another sneeze stopped in its tracks. He sniffles and tries to pull away, but Nanami tuts his disapproval.

“Still need to do the other side.” He doesn't allow Gojo so much as a spare breath to fight him on it. The nasal swab is already pressed to his septum, just inside the other nostril.

The tighter, desperate pinch of his eyebrows is visible even through his blindfold. Gojo’s lip quivers. He actually manages to hold it together this time- for the first five seconds.

Then…

“hih…hh, hihH-! hh…ghh-hiHH-! Hhp’TSHhh-! hihT’SHh-! Hh-hhH… HH’TShiew-! hY’ISHH-!”

His nostrils turn pink, shiny at the rims. Nanami ignores the mist settling on his wrist in progressively wetter qualities. It's generously soaking him when he decides again that he's done enough again, and he promptly wipes his hand on the leg of his sweatpants.

Gojo’s repeated sniffling, panting, and whining is mere background noise as he goes through the motions of this test.

“Nanamiiii… you're so meannn…”

Without taking his eyes off his watch to acknowledge Gojo’s Man-Child-like behavior, Nanami hands him a tissue. He always keeps a box close at a time like this. “Blow your nose, Gojo.”

There's still about 10 minutes left until he can actually consider this hassle taken care of. 

Well, one hassle taken care of, anyway. Gojo has regrettably pressed himself back against him, sinuses cleared into a now crumpled tissue. “Can we please just go lay back down now?”

That, Nanami could seriously consider. A dull throb trickles back up into his head, coupled with a growing feeling he'd swallowed glass in his throat. He may as well take Gojo up on this- standing here isn't doing him any good.

A fresh change of clothes and a new dose of ibuprofen later, and enough time has passed that Nanami’s watch goes off, once for his test, which he snapped a picture of, and then again a few minutes later.

Test results on Nanami’s read positive- no surprise. Test results on Gojo’s read negative- for now, at least.

[23fallencomets]

now that i’m fully invested into the omegaverse (i genuinely wasn’t sure what the reception would be since i know some people just don’t fuck with it, which is okay!)

I have a loscar draft where Oscar (omega) had continued racing while Logan (alpha) had to step away pretty early. There were some almost oppressing rules against omegas that they have to be courted/claimed before they could continue advancing.

Logan offers to court Oscar to give him the safe path to continue racing and of course it becomes serious and Oscar eventually makes it to F1 except no one knows who Oscar’s Alpha is because Logan had returned him to continue his schooling (he becomes ceo of a company, makes shit ton of money to support oscar but doesn’t get to go to many of the races).

Claimed omegas where a collar (consensually) and the omegas of the paddock are like “where’s your alpha ☹️” to oscar because logan is never there and it makes Oscar feel a little shaky because he has never thought of logan being disinterested in him especially after everything

(lando makes a comment about oscar not dressing up stereotypically (basically fem) and—almost naively— asks if his alpha doesn’t let him which triggers oscar a bit because logan lets oscar do whatever he wants but they don’t know that)

Logan ends up meeting everyone during Hungary (i think) which is the best and worst time since he has some choice words he would like to give mclaren but also needs to take care of his omega. The rest of the fic is just love-struck logan finally being able to spend time with equally love-struck oscar and they’re so in love it’s annoying.

[dayas]

lavenders green, lavenders blue

one masquerade changes the course of elphaba thropp’s life forever.

or, alternatively, an (un)official cinderella au.

out on ao3 !

[mammon-s]

I am so cooked I’ve officially reached the point where seeing other peoples self ship art or oc art with Mammon makes me genuinely jealous and upset for a minute 💀💀💀💀

IT DIDNT USED TO BE THIS BAD. LIKE LITERALLY I USED TO FIND THOSE CUTE AND BE LIKE AW ? WHATS WRONG WITH ME. WHY HAS A FICTIONAL MAN FUCKING ENGRAVED HIMSELF THIS FUCKING HARD IN MY BRAIN??? I’M LITERALLY A LESBIAN (I think idk I’m starting to get scared guys 💀) WHY DO I HAVE REAL FEELINGS FOR A PIXELATED MAN????💀💀💀💀