#he answered the door with a cast on his leg
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Concept: After everythingâs fixed the Agency have group sleepovers in the dorms. They grab sleeping bags, games and blankets and bring them to their living room area.
Kunikida make sure everyone goes to sleep at a reasonable hour but more often then not even he finds it hard too.
But being together helps.
Atsushi tucks himself next to a new person almost everyday. They all take âAtsushi watchâ very seriously and make room for him no matter who he chooses.
Though for the most part Atsushi sleeps between Dazai and Kyouka who never let him out of their sight.
The lights are dimmed but never fully turned off. Even with the tigers eyes no one wants him to wake up and think theyâre not there.
The living room door is kept slightly open to Kyouka and Dazaiâs relief.
Kyouka calls Lucy regularly just before bed and no matter what Lucy answers. They donât say much but itâs enough. Her bunny comes with her everywhere and she and Atsushi are rarely apart.
Katai will come barrelling through the door with a take away and slot himself beside Kunikida. No amount of fear for the outside would keep him away and they all smile when they see him.
Fukuzawa is also present between Ranpo and Yosano. He delegates the games and is more then happy to just watch them all play.
Also the games they play would be the same ones Atsushi brings with him in 55 minutes.
Kenji tells stories over candlelight. Not anything spooky, theyâve had enough of that. But stories from his farm, of hope that blooms eternal.
How thereâs always light to be had in the deepest darkness. Kyouka gives him her bunny plushie on occasion and he sleeps hugging it close.
Junichiro bakes on occasion. He gets restless sometimes and lets Kyouka helps out when she confessed wanting to do something nice for everyone.
Every once in a while theyâre bake treats for their sleepovers and everytime Ranpo tries to commandeer them all.
Dazai lays his leg over Kunikidaâs lap because he canât just say he wants company can he. He has everyone sign his cast while Kunikida grumbles but doesnât push him off.
He making notes of Yosanoâs instructions after she examined Dazaiâs leg and yells at him for not resting and it feels like old times again.
Ranpo is basically the deciding vote of every game and delights in making more hard entertaining.
Yosano shakes her head at his antics but then dives head first because sheâs competitive like that and the two end up laughing along with everyone else.
Thereâs no stakes itâs just good fun.
Fukuzawa is the last to sleep. He watches over them all and packs up the mess. Sometimes Atsushi joins him when he can untangle himself and canât sleep either.
On those nights they quietly go to the kitchen and have some tea.
Who knows what the future holds but right now theyâll just take everyday as it comes.
Together.
#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bsd spoilers#bsd dazai#dazai osamu#bsd atsushi#atsushi nakajima#bsd ranpo#ranpo edogawa#bsd junichiro#tanizaki junichirou#bsd yosano#yosano akiko#bsd kunikida#kunikida doppo#bsd kyouka#kyouka izumi#katai tayama#bsd katai#bsd fukuzawa#fukuzawa yukichi#bsd kenji#kenji miyazawa#bsd ada#bsd armed detective agency#bsd manga spoilers
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63 and Stobin please!
and when I crawl out in the morning (can I stay inside your head?)
Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley || ~2k || Implied/Reference Child Abuse || Minor Character Death || Good Friend Robin Buckley || Blood and Gore || Off-screen Violence
Robinâs sitting atop the kitchen counter, all the lights off aside from the one above the stove, just enough to cast ominous shadows against the cupboards. Her parents have been asleep for hours, but somethingâs keeping her upâa restlessness running through her, making her legs twitch, heels clacking against the cupboard doors noisily.
Sheâs antsy, toes flexing with the desire to run. She recognizes the feeling from being trapped beneath Starcourt, from flinging fireworks at a monster straight from a little kidâs nightmares.
Thereâd been something to do then, something to run toward, or flee from. Sheâs not sure what to do with that same urge at one in the morning alone in her kitchen.
The question is answered when the phone rings. Her hand moves immediately, reaching behind herself to snatch it off the wall without having to move from her perch atop the counter, so fast it doesnât even finish its first ring.
âHello?â she says down the open line.
Her blood courses through her veins as she listens to the steady, crackling breathing, phone pressed hard enough to the side of her face that it hurts.
Sheâs just about to say hello again, hoping the person on the other side of the line will finally say something back, but then Steveâs voice comes through, strangely flat as he asks, âcan you come over?â
This happens a lot late at night, Steve calling her for one reason or another. Sometimes itâs nightmares, or heâs just bored, or he misses her too much to function. She comes over, always, but thatâs not what he says, how he asks.
He should be saying, âcan I pick you up?â with only his tone of voice giving away what he needs. But, thatâs not what he asked, and heâs got no tone of voice at all.
âBe there in five,â she says, not waiting for a response before she hangs up the phone, barely pausing to shove her feet into the sneakers sheâd left by the front door before bursting into the quiet of a night in the suburbs.
Itâs an eight minute bike ride to Steveâs house from hers, but Robinâs got a heartbeat in her thighs, sheâs pedaling so hard. There are no cars on the road, so she forgoes the bumpy sidewalk and rides in the middle of the street, her momâs voice an easily ignored phantom chiding in the back of her head.
She never rides her bike at night, and as the shadows of branching trees creep across the pavement, illuminated by distant porch lights, she vows to never, ever do it again.
But she knows, deep down in her sternum where Steve lives that if he calls, sheâll always come.
The spokes of her bike click as she coasts it all the way up Steveâs driveway, not even bothering to hit the brakes as she jumps up and lets it drop carelessly right up against the house. Itâs still clattering against the pavement as she flings open his front door without a knock.
âSteve?â she calls, voice ragged with exertion and all the fear crawling up her throat. âWhere are you?â
In contrast to her pitchy tone, Steveâs is without inflection as he says, âin the kitchen,â quiet enough that if the house wasnât silent, she might not have heard it at all.
Robin goes to take off her shoes to line them up neatly beside the rest, but there, right by Steveâs pristine white tennis shoes, are a pair of polished dress shoes, too big to ever belong to Steve.
She doesnât bother taking her own off, that same instinct that had kept her awake and by the phone so late at night urging her to keep them on.
The light in the Harringtonâs kitchen has always been fluorescent, bright enough to reflect off the pristine white tiles, casting the entire space in stark relief.
The first thing she sees is Steveâs back. Heâs sitting at one of the tall bar stools pushed up against the island counter. Heâs in his own seat, her usual spot sitting vacant at his side. Thatâs where they sit when theyâre eating meals too messy for the couch, neither of them fond of the giant, stuffy table situated in the dining room.
Steveâs not eating right now.
As she takes slow, measured steps toward him, she catches sight of his hands. Theyâre clasped together, grip tight enough that she can see the loose skin against his knuckles wrinkling up, cracking the drying blood coating them. She takes a few more steps, and his side profile comes into view, and thereâs blood on his face, too, splattered against it like someone had scooped it up and flicked it at him.
Even his hair isnât cleanâred running through it, streaked like heâd run his bloody fingers through the strands. Or gotten a botched dye job at the salon.
Sheâs frozen, neither flight or fight taking over when thereâs nothing to punch, nothing to run from, just Steve Harrington covered in enough blood that whatever wound heâs sustained must be fatal.
She should call someone; Robin never bothered to learn first aid.
But as she turns her gaze away from Steve, ready to rush to the phone, she catches sight of a socked foot, just barely poking out from behind the island. She stares at it, transfixed, waiting for it to move, even a twitch. It shows no signs of life.
Itâs only as she starts walking again, circling the island to catch sight of whateverâs hidden behind it, that Steve comes back to life. âRobin?â Steve asks, and when she turns back toward him, his eyes are big in his skull, the blood flecked across his face drawing out the red of the vessels in his eyes. He looks small, suddenly, like a little boy caught doing something he shouldnât.
âItâll be okay,â she says, staring into his bloodshot eyes.
She waits as he swallows, Adamâs apple bobbing with the nervous moment. Only once he nods does Robin turn back around and take the final few steps to round the counter and stare down at the body the foot belongs to.
Thatâs what it is now, a body. Itâs slack, collapsed on the floor, pose peaceful enough that Robin might think it was sleeping, if not for all the chunks missing. Itâs only as she looks at the vestiges of a suit the bodyâs wearing that she remembers the shoes aligned neatly beside Steveâs own at the front door.
Theyâd match perfectly with the dressed down suit she sees in front of her, if it wasnât for the blood all over the button-up, still perfectly tucked into wrinkle-free pants, despite what must have been quite a struggle based on the way the white fabricâs shredded, hints of mincemeat poking through.
Sheâs never met the man, but this must be Mr. Harrington. Heâd been alive last sheâd heard, and now she can barely tell heâs a person at all. His face is almost gone, skull visible past the pulp thatâs been made of him. He looks like the ground beef she sometimes picks up from the grocery store for her momânot a man, just meat.
And as she stares down at the dead body, sheâs terrified, suddenly, of what could have left those marks. Steve had told her about the Demogorgon that had burst through the Byersâ ceiling, the Demo-dogs that had circled him and the kids like they were the packâs newest kill. Heâd described claws, and teeth, and creatures designed to rend flesh from bone.
If a Demo-Whatâs-It had been the thing to kill Mr. Harrington, then they need to call the calvary, or it wonât just be Steveâs shitty dad laying dead and almost unrecognizable on the kitchen floor.
Her heartâs beating fast again, a frantic ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump beneath her ribcage as she tries to figure out who to call, what to do.
âIâm not sorry.â Steveâs deadened voice comes suddenly enough that Robin startles.
Itâs as sheâs turning around to face him that she sees it: there, dropped haphazardly in front of the sink is a baseball bat full of nails. There are bits of flesh stuck to the ends of the nails, blood coating the wood, new enough to still be dripping red.
The last time sheâd seen it, it was beneath Steveâs bed.
She stares at it, and finally, things start to click into the place. Thereâs no Demo- anything, nothing to fight, no one to call, just a dead body, a murder weapon, and a mess to clean up.
âOkay,â she says, gaze still trained on the bat, but sheâs barely looking at it anymore, eyes sightless as her mind ticks away, faster than she can keep up with. âOkay, okay, is your mom home?â
When she turns back toward Steve, the entire mess that is the Harringtonâs kitchen now out of sight, Steveâs staring up at her with that same dead-eyed look. Robin doesnât care, canât when heâs alive in front of her, no monsters coming to kill him. Thatâs all that matters right now, him alive, and free, and by her side. They can deal with everything else later.
So, when he shakes his headâno witness, no second bodyâsheâs hit with a relief so bone-deep, she almost collapses with it.
But thereâs too much to do, so she shores up her legs and turns back around, sidestepping the spilled blood, and the body to get to the sink. Her shoe hits the bat and clatters noisily against the Harringtonâs fancy tile. She ignores it to turn on the tap, wetting the dishrag until itâs dripping between her hands.
âTake off your clothes,â she says, walking around the whole mess again to get back to Steveâs side. He stays seated on the barstool, looking up at her with blank eyes sheâd normally make fun of him for. âGood job doing this whole thing in the kitchen, dingus, but weâve gotta get you clean.â
Steve stands up, still moving like a puppet, but itâs okayâRobinâs got all of his strings. He gets undressed without hesitation, movements mechanical as he strips off his t-shirt, pants, and underwear, letting each item drop to the tile until heâs standing in front of her, entirely naked.
She starts at the top of his head and works down, perfunctorily scrubbing at the blood caked into the hair on his head and chest alike. It flakes off to join the rest of the mess on the kitchen floor. Itâs okay; sheâll clean it up.
Robin goes back to the sink to wet the rag twice, thorough enough to leave him pink but clean. He stays silent through the whole thing, barely twitching even when she scrubs hard enough that it must hurt. Heâs quiet as she kneels between his legs, the only protest coming when she swipes at the bottom of his foot.
He twitches, entire body shaking as he yanks his foot free and puts it back down, keeping it hidden from her seeking fingers. She didnât know he was ticklish.
âCanât have you tracking any of this through the house,â Robin says, as she pries his foot back up off the ground. Sheâs relieved when he lets her. âI donât know how to get blood out of white carpet.â
âI do,â Steve says, but he stays still as best he can while she wipes between his toes.
Once done, she stands up and stares at her best friend, pink and clean in all his naked glory.
âGo shower,â she says, dropping the rag onto the tile. It splats, full of water and all the blood sheâd just rubbed off of his skin. âWash your entire body three times, with a soap and rag. Hair, too.â
He still looks so far away, like even as heâs standing in front of her, she canât quite reach him. She wants to touch so badly that it aches. She wants to wrap her arms around him, feel his heart beating against her own sternum, a constant thrum. Proof of life.
But thereâs blood on her hands now, too, so she lets them drop to her sides, hanging uselessly as she asks, âcan you do that for me?â
Steve nods, ready, always, to follow her directions. âWhat are you going to do?â
Robin turns away from him, the snapping of their locked gazes almost a physical sensation as she looks back toward the scene of the crime. She surveys the mess in the kitchenâthe blood, the weapon, the body, and realizes thereâs only one answer to his question.
âIâm going to fix it.â
And as Steve showers off the evidence of his crime, thatâs exactly what she does.
I frankly Had To when I saw what song this was So! I hope you guys enjoy, and as always, shoutout to my beta @queenie-ofthe-void who managed to edit this literally minutes after I finished writing it. <3
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me, excited about fixing my sleep schedule: turns out the light at midnight last night
me at 3 a.m., after three hours of repeatedly almost falling asleep and then being jerked back into wakefulness by my upstairs neighbor seemingly jumping up and down on the floor right above my head so heavily it makes all the furniture rattle against the walls: finally gets out of bed and gets dressed and goes upstairs to pound on his door and ask him to pleeeeeeease go to bed already
#he answered the door with a cast on his leg#and was very apologetic and explained that he has to hop to get around#i said i understand and i'm sorry about the injury BUT I NEED TO SLEEP#luckily after that he did indeed go to bed because i heard no more hopping#altbauleben halt :')#i get the impression that several people here have never lived in hellhörig buildings before#cosmo gyres#personal#a day in the life
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DIET PEPSI â
L. NORRIS
â
PAIRING: boyfriend!lando x female!reader
â
GENRE: NSFW
â
SUMMARY: in which lando pulls over to watch the sunset with you in his porsche; things take a turn from there.
inspired by âdiet pepsiâ by addison rae
â
WORD COUNT: 1.2k
â
WARNINGS: car sex, semi public sex, nasty kissing, making out, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, teeny bit of praise cause I canât help myself, cumshot. lando is soooo sweet. I think that is all! please be noted this is only semi proofread.
â
AUTHORS NOTE: finally! making my formula 1 fic debut! I hope you all enjoy this. I started writing this somewhere before summer break and unfortunately just got to finishing it. lifeâŠam I right? I guess the lyrics hold true because my boy has won 2 times since then! I know this oneâs a bit short, but feedback is appreciated!
âAre you sure no one is up here?â you asked your boyfriend as you unbuckled your seatbelt.
Lando reached over slightly and gave your thigh an affirmative squeeze. âItâs fine, I was looking around.â
The two of you were on a drive in his 911 carrera and pulled off to a small spot up on a hill that overlooked the city. It was later in the evening and the sun was setting; casting an orange glow over Lando when he turned to you.
âYou look so pretty in the light. Come here.â
Lando adjusted his seat before helping you over the center console and gearshift of his vehicle.
âI donât want to break anything.â You spoke out loud with a laugh as Lando had his hand on your leg to help you.
Lando shushed you. âYouâre fine, Iâve got you.â
You were in his lap within seconds; adjusting the skirt that you were wearing slightly to get more comfortable.
âComfortable?â Lando brushed your hair off of your shoulder before planting a few kisses softly onto your skin near your collarbone.
You hummed in response, nodding before combing your fingers through his soft curly hair as his mouth made its way up to your neck.
You let a small whimper escape your lips when Landoâs teeth scraped your skin slightly.
Your hand tightened in his hair as you rocked your hips into his lap; feeling his bulge through his jeans.
âFuck.â Lando swore under his breath as his hands roamed your thighs and to the curve of your ass underneath your skirt.
âI want this off of you.â Lando glanced up at you quickly for any sign for him to stop before unbuttoning and unzipping your skirt, removing the item of clothing from your body and throwing it into the passenger seat.
You mentally thanked yourself for the outfit choice of yours.
âWow.â Lando let out a sigh, leaning to kiss you again as his hands returned to their place on your thighs, and moved up to your waist.
You were eager for him, grabbing a hold of his white button down shirt for any way to get him closer to you.
Lando shifted in the driver seat, his hands holding your hips as his jeans brushed against your cunt.
You let out a moan into his mouth, and Lando took that as an opportunity to tongue kiss you; reaching up to grab the nape of your neck with one of his hands.
Pulling away slightly with a hum, you noticed Landoâs breathing to be slightly more erratic than before.
âBaby, I need you..â Your voice faded when Lando kissed you again. You knew you didnât really have to say anything; Lando knew you like the back of his hand.
âIâve got you.â Lando mumbled, guiding you to rest your knee up onto the door panel of his porsche. âStay like this for me, ok?â
You nodded, biting down onto your bottom lip as he locked eye contact with you.
Lando quickly glanced in his rearview mirror to check if anyone was around; still nobody.
He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, audibly groaning at how easily his middle and ring finger slipped inside of you.
You let out a whimper, squeezing onto his bicep for some stability.
âOh my fuck, why didnât I take you home?â Lando was talking to himself, because there was no way you were going to answer him.
There was absolutely no space between the two of you, as this car was not ideal.
You could hear the squelching noise coming from underneath you, making you look down; covering your mouth to stifle your moans. There was nothing that Lando hated more than when you hid from him.
âGet that hand off of your mouth, sweetheart.â Lando spoke, slipping a third finger into your cunt; knowing youâd react.
âGood girl, gonna cum for me?â Lando asked, kissing your jaw and down towards your collarbone. âHmm?â
You were breathless, but still managed to use your words. âNo.â You paused, your voice sounding like a whimper, grabbing onto Landoâs shirt as you tried not to fall apart. âI need you to fuck me, please.â
âFuck, are you sure?â He asked, his face centimeters from yours. Lando was taken aback at your forwardness, but willing to do anything you wanted.
You hummed, nodding before kissing him. You moved your hand down between your legs; feeling the now very prominent bulge in Landoâs jeans.
He let out a deep throaty groan at the contact. âFuck.â
You tried to unbutton his jeans really fast, but with your position on his lap it wasnât working.
âI got it, I got it.â Landoâs larger and more steady hand replaced yours as he worked his pants down to leave enough room for his cock.
You let out a sigh when you felt him teasing the head of his leaking cock against your folds. âI canât believe weâre doing this here.â
âWhat?â Your voice was breathy as Lando gripped your hips to lower you down onto him. Your question was instantly replaced by a moan of his name.
âNothing.â Lando grunted before throwing his head back. âGod, how do you feel so fucking good?â
He still had a grip on your hips; hitting all of the right spots that drove you insane.
âHmm- Fuck!â You cried out. âRight there, right there.â
âShit.â Lando swore, letting go of you with one hand to have you look at him. âYouâre cumming already?â
You eagerly nodded before Lando suddenly crashed his lips with yours. The kiss is sloppy; messy.
You could feel your thighs starting to ache, and a tinge of overstimulation when Lando applied pressure to your clit with the pads of his fingers.
Gasping, you pulled away from the kiss, swearing under your breath as Lando was pulling another orgasm from you so quickly as you still fucked yourself on his cock.
âYou can give me one more, yeah?â His voice was low as his hot breath ghosted your face. âMake a fucking mess out of my car.â
In your attempts to slam down onto him harder, your rhythm faltered as you came again. Your legs were now shaking as you clenched around Landoâs cock.
The sun was almost down, making it somewhat difficult to see his reaction; but you had an inkling that he had to be close.
âLandoâŠâ Your voice was a slight whimper again, making Lando wince. âCum in me, please.â
âGod im close, im really fucking close.â Lando spoke, sucking in a shallow breath through gritted teeth.
It wasnât too long after that he finally reached his peak, nearly holding you down on his lap as he grunted expletives as he tried to be as quiet as possible.
âLandoâŠâ you winced as you already felt the mess between your legs. âStay inside of me like this.â You leaned into him, resting your head on his heaving chest.
âWe canât stay here.â You could tell Lando was smirking by the way his voice sounded. One of his hands smoothed out your hair before he kissed the top of your head. âI know youâre tired, but we canât.â
âI know.â You huffed, exaggerating a pouty attitude. âYouâre so warm.â You kissed Lando near his mouth a few times, making him scrunch his nose.
Finally you sat up, letting Lando help you off of his lap and into the passenger seat. The two of you fixed your clothing before Lando leaned over the center console to kiss you.
âOkay, take me home.â
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Hmphh M' Sleeping !!
PAIRING Step dad!Gojo Satoru x f!reader, Step dad!Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Step dad!Nanami Kento x f!reader, Step dad!Geto Suguru x f!reader, Step dad!Sukuna x f!reader, Step dad!Shiu Kong x f!reader, Step dad!Hiromi Higuruma x f!reader, Step dad!Kamo Choso x f!reader [seperate]
SYNOPSIS After a long day, when your step dad returns home to find you asleep, looking all innocent and tempting...They are unable to resist touching you!
WARNING stepcest, taboo, somnophilia, non/con (but you like it), pre-established relationship, comfort, nipple sucking playing & pinching, p in v, dirty talks (duh), pussy eating fingering, use of four arms for pleasure (sukuna), cock warming, clit rubbing, soft sex, clit rubbing with cock, blowjob, m!masturbation
NOTE I'm just a girl (with daddy issues) ... Some people may find the contents unpleasant. Simply block and move on; please do not make disparaging remarks about me; if you do, prepare to get trolled by my moots. Please read the warnings and do not do this at home (duh)
â SATORU GOJO
Gojo saunters into the house, a tired smile on his face, "Daddy's home!" he calls out, hoping to hear your voice in response, but, he hears nothing but silence. His footsteps carry him upstairs, concern beginning to creep in as he pushes open your bedroom door.
He pauses in the doorway, taking in the sight before him. The dim light casts shadows across your face, highlighting the soft curves of your lips and the delicate lines of your features. His steps are quiet and careful, almost hesitant, as he approaches you.
He gently brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, feeling the warmth of your skin under his fingertips. His heart skips a beat at your sight, looking so peaceful and innocent. But then he notices something strange - his shirt, the one he wore yesterday, draped over your shoulders, exposing your chest. His gaze drops to the hemline of the shirt, where it pooled above your waist, leaving your stomach bare.
He raises an eyebrow, his amusement warring with his confusion. "Wearing my shirt, huh?" he teases, trying to lighten the mood.
As Gojo continues to tease you, his fingers dance lightly across your lips, tracing the curve of your neckline, and then lower still, to the swell of your breast barely contained by his shirt. Your skin ignites at his touch, sending shivers down your spine. As he leans in further, his warm breath tickles your ear, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.
"You shouldn't wear my clothes, you know.. They are too big for you," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry, sending heat coursing through your veins. Without warning, his lips close around your nipple, drawing it into his mouth.
"Mmm, you're driving me crazy," he groans, suckling softly. His free hand reaches up to cup the other breast, his thumb grazing its peak. "I can't help myself, you know."
He pulls back slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. His hand slides down your body, tracing the edge of his shirt where it meets your shorts, lingering for a moment before moving back up again.
"Is this what you want, hm?"
His voice is thick with desire, his words heavy with innuendo. He doesn't wait for an answer, instead, he dives back in, his lips closing around your nipple once more. This time, he sucks harder, his tongue flicking against the tight bud. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to his touch despite your sleepy state.
"You're so responsive, always ready for me," he growls, his voice rough and deep. His fingers trail down your stomach, dipping into the indentation of your navel before continuing southwards.
As Gojo continues his exploration, his fingers brush against the thin fabric of your shorts, sliding easily between your legs. He moans softly, feeling how wet and ready you already are for him. He can't believe how responsive you are even in your sleep.
"Oh, baby," he whispers, his voice thick with lust. "You're so fucking wet for me."
His finger slips inside you, slick and smooth. You moan softly, your hips bucking involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. He chuckles low in his throat, loving the way you respond to him.
"So eager, so desperate," he says, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Always wanting me, even in your dreams."
He adds another finger, thrusting slowly but steadily, watching as your chest heaves with each movement. Your breathing becomes ragged, your body writhing beneath his touch.
As Gojo removes his clothing, revealing his hard member, his eyes never leave yours. There's a mix of excitement and mischief in his gaze as he positions himself at your entrance.
"That's right, sleep tight," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. "Let me take care of you."
He can't help but smile as he hears you mumble softly, calling him "Daddy." It sends a thrill of pleasure through him, knowing that you've accepted his presence.
He responds with a low, rumbling laugh, "That's right, baby. Daddy's here." He gently pushes inside, feeling you clench around him. He coos softly, urging you to keep sleeping as he starts to move.
Each thrust is slow and deliberate, designed to awaken your senses without fully awakening you. It feels like a dream, yet at the same time, it feels so real. You can feel every inch of him, every push and pull, and it's driving you wild.
Gojo watches you closely, his expression a mixture of desire and tenderness. He knows you're not fully awake, but he can't resist giving you pleasure, even in your sleep. Each time he moves, he watches your face, gauging your reactions, making sure you're comfortable.
"Daddy's gonna make you feel so good," he promises, his voice gravelly with desire. He picks up the pace, pounding into you, his movements strong and purposeful.
You moan softly, your body responding to his touch even though you're still half-asleep.
Gojo watches you closely, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness. He takes his time, savoring every moment of this intimate connection. With each thrust, he sees the emotions flashing across your face, the pleasure and trust that you're giving him.
"You're so beautiful," he groans, his voice thick with passion. "And mine.. all fucking mine to claim.."
He can't help but speed up, driven by the need to give you as much pleasure as possible.
As Gojo continues to move, you begin to overcome slumber, whispering lazily, "Daddy, I missed you so much." His heart swells with warmth at your words, and he responds with a low, reassuring growl, "I know, baby. I'll make it up to you."
His thrusts grow stronger, more demanding. He nuzzles your neck, leaving a series of tender kisses and love bites, punctuated by gentle nibbles. Then, he sinks his teeth into your skin, marking you with a passionate hickee. His mark is a mixture of pain and pleasure, a testament to the connection between you two.
With each thrust, Gojo can feel your body tightening around him, drawing him deeper inside you. Your moans become louder, more urgent, signaling your impending climax. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his back, your desire mirroring his own.
Finally, you reach your peak, your body convulsing around him, releasing a wave of pleasure that shakes you to your core.
As you continue to tremble in the aftermath of your orgasm, Gojo groans, "Shit, baby, keep squeezing me like that... Ah!" His own release is near, the tension building within him reaching its peak.
Your eyes drift shut, your words slurred as you mumble, "Daddy, m' sleepy." Despite your words, your body continues writhing, still responding to his touch.
Gojo grins, his heart swelling with affection for you. "Alr, baby, just a few more minutes," he promises. His thrusts become more insistent, filling you completely with each powerful stroke.
As he thrusts, he watches the emotions play across your face - pleasure, exhaustion, and contentment. His own release builds, and finally, he feels it burst forth. He groans, pouring himself into you, sealing the bond between you two as you both collapse into each other's arms.
"Sleep, baby," he whispers, cradling you close, protecting you from the world outside. And as your breathing steadies, he knows that nothing will ever come between you two. Nothing and no one.
â TOJI FUSHIGURO
The darkness outside is eerily silent as Toji returns home, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he walks, trying to shake off the lingering scent of death. The bloodstained clothing clinging to his body seemed to weigh him down, and his mind racing with thoughts of the deed he have just committed. He needs to wash the evidence off his hands, and there's only one person, he knows he can find solace from- you.
With cat-like steps, Toji creeps into your room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light within.
As Toji approaches the bed, he gently props himself up beside you, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. With a soft whisper, he scoops you into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around you tightly. The tension in his body begins to dissipate as he inhales deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your sleep-warmed skin.
His lips brush against yours, showering you with tender kisses. "Ah, I missed ya so much," he whispers against your ear, his breath hot and labored. "Just being near you calms my soul." He nuzzles against your shoulder-space,, his lips tracing the contours of your features as he speaks. "Your body is so warm," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "It's intoxicating."
He pulls back slightly, gazing at you with an adoring look. "You can't imagine, how much I love you.." he speaks, his voice trembling with sincerity.
As he speaks, his hand drifts down to cup your breasts, his fingers gently kneading the soft flesh, " Ah I missed these too."
You stir slightly at his touch, your eyelids fluttering, but your deep slumber stops your movement soon.
Your body responds instinctively to his touch, your nipple growing stiff beneath his fingers. Toji's eyes gleam with excitement as he notices, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.
"S-shit," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so responsive, even in your sleep."
Toji wraps his arms around you, his sweaty and bloody scent wafts up to fill your nostrils, carrying with it the heavy weight of his guilt. Despite the overwhelming aroma, your subconscious seems to crave the comfort of his presence, and you exhale deeply, embracing the sensation of being wrapped in his arms.
With a gentle tug, Toji pulls you closer, shifting his position so that you slide onto his chest. Your body molds to his, and you settle into the curve of his torso as if you were sinking into a cloud. Your small frame rests comfortably on his chest, and his arms wrap around you, holding you close. The softness of his clothes provides a makeshift mattress, and you seem to instinctively snuggle deeper into his embrace, your head resting on the crook of his neck.
As Toji's hands move down your body, his fingers deftly sliding your panties off your hips. The fabric whispers against your skin as it's removed, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his touch. His clothed cock presses against your bare pussy, the friction generating a subtle tremble in your loins. Wetness seeps from your center, staining the fabric of his pants with its warmth.
Despite the sudden intimacy, you remain entranced in a somnambulant state, your body responding instinctively to the stimulation.
"Mmm...ahh..." you mumble sleepily into his neck, your breathing growing heavier as your body trembles with pleasure. Toji's grip on you tightens, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
"Oh, you're so wet," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "You are making me so hard, mhmm. "
He continues to stroke himself against your pussy, the pressure building with each passing moment. Your sleepy eyes begin to flicker open, but you don't seem to fully register the situation, instead simply reacting to the sensations being inflicted to you.
Toji's fingers wrap around your hips, lifting your ass upward as he frees his swollen cock from his pants. The tip of his penis glints in the dim light of the room, slick with precum. He pauses for a moment, his gaze locked on your sleepy face, before slowly guiding himself into your waiting heat.
As he pushes deeper, his movements deliberate and slow, your sleepy eyes gradually open, taking in the surreal scene unfolding before you. Your pupils dilate as you process the reality of the situation, your breath catching in your throat.
"A-ah!" you moan softly, your voice barely audible above a whisper, as Toji's cock slides deeper into your depths. Your gaze remains fixed on his, a mixture of confusion and arousal etched across your face.
Toji's eyes burn with intensity, his face twisted in a mixture of passion and desperation. "Ohh~ you're so tight," he gasps, his voice strained with effort. "So perfect."
As he withdraws, his cock slips almost entirely out of you, leaving only the swollen head nestled within your entrance. Your muscles contract reflexively, squeezing him.
Toji's grip on your hips tightening as he plunges back into your depths. The motion is slow and deliberate, each thrust building upon the last as he seeks to claim every inch of your body.
"I missed fucking ya, so much," he growls, his teeth bared in a fierce snarl. "I needed ya so badly."
The words are spoken against your ear, his breath hot and rank with the scent of blood and sweat.
As Toji continues to thrust into you, his pace steady and deliberate, your initial moans of pleasure begin to fade away. Your body relaxes, succumbing to the gentle rocking motion, and your eyelids droop once more.
Soft, contented purrs escape your lips, harmonizing with the rhythm of Toji's strokes. Your breath grows deeper and slower, your body swaying in time with his movements. The tension in your limbs eases, replaced by a sense of relaxation and surrender.
Toji's eyes burn with intensity, his gaze locked on your face as he reads your reactions. He slows his pace further, allowing himself to become lost in the sensation of being buried deep within your warmth.
"Ah, yeah... you're so relaxed, aren't ya?" he whispers, his voice low and husky. "You're letting go, giving yourself over to me."
He pauses, his cock still deep within your depths, and gazes down at your face. Your eyelids flutter, your breath slowing further as you continue to purr softly.
"Good girl," he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're so good for me."
Toji's hands dart up to your chest, grasping the hem of your top and pulling it upwards. The fabric strains against your skin as he tugs it over your head. His own shirt follows suit, peeling off his torso to reveal his chiseled physique.
Your nipples, previously softened by your sleep, now re-harden as they graze against Toji's chest. He wraps his arms around you, his palms pressed against your back as he draws you in closer. The friction between your nipples and his chest creates a tantalizing sensation, sending shivers down your spine.
"You feel so good against me," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Like you were made for me alone."
Toji's hips pick up speed, his cock bruising your gummy walls as he rocks his body against yours.
As Toji's movements intensify, your hands unconsciously reach up to grasp his hair, tangling your fingers within the dark strands. Your sleepy moans grow louder, your body beginning to tremble with pleasure.
The sound of your moans sends a wave of excitement coursing through Toji's veins. His eyes blaze with intensity as he gazes down at your face, his grip on your hips tightening as he buries himself deeper within your warmth.
"Ahh, yeah... you're loving this, aren't ya?" he growls, his voice low and husky. Toji's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he drives himself deeper into your depths. Your nails dig into his scalp, your hands pulling his hair down as you arch your back cumming all over his cock.
As your walls clamp continuously against his shaft, Toji's climax builds, his movements becoming more erratic and urgent. Your body flexes beneath him, your nails digging deeper into his scalp as you writhe in ecstasy.
With a final, brutal thrust, Toji pulls out of you, his cock spurting forth a stream of semen that splashes against your back. The fluid arcing through the air, coating your skin with its sticky warmth.
"Ahhh, yes!" Toji bellows, his body convulsing with release.
As the adrenaline begins to wear off, Toji's movements slow, his chest heaving with exertion. With a gentle push, he guides you backward onto the bed, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber.
Once you've settled into the blankets, Toji curls his body around yours, wrapping his arms tightly around your shoulders. His chest presses against your back, his warm breath rustling against the hairs on the back of your neck.
As the silence washes over you, your eyelids drooping with exhaustion, Toji's grip on you tightens, his big fingers intertwining with yours.
â NANAMI KENTO
Nanami sighs heavily as he enters the living room, kicking off his shoes and tossing his jacket onto the couch. "Ugh, Gojo..." he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. Working with the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in history isn't exactly easy, especially when the man seems to enjoy pushing his buttons.
After removing his tie and undoing the top buttons of his shirt, Nanami heads towards the bathroom to wash away the stress of the day. As the warm water cascads over his body,
He lets out a small groan of relief. The hot water seeps into his tense muscles, helping ease some of the soreness from his long day at work. He runs his fingers through his wet hair, ridding himself of any product, before rinsing thoroughly.
Stepping out of the shower, wrapped only in a towel, Nanami decides to pay a visit to you in your room before heading to bed.
You were fast asleep, your hair slightly disheveled and your features relaxed, looking almost peaceful.
Nanami approaches your bed softly, watching you sleep. He feels a pang of affection for you, and can't help but lean down to place a kiss on your forehead. Your skin feels warm against his lips, comforting.
Suddenly, your arms wrap around him, trapping him there. At first, he stiffens, surprised by your sudden movement, "What's this?" he asks softly, his voice laced with amusement. "Trying to keep me here?"
As Nanami stands there, caught in your embrace, you pull his head further into your chest. He feels a slight resistance at first, but soon relaxes, letting his cheekbones press gently against your skin.
He balances himself on his two hands, leaning into you and resting his body weight against your chest.
The cold water droplets from Nanami's damp hair fall lightly onto your warm chest, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. You tighten your grip on his head, reveling in the feeling of his body pressed against yours.
Nanami tries to shift and wiggle free from your hold, but quickly realizes that it's futile. With a soft chuckle, he gives up and allows himself to remain in your embrace.
Despite his best efforts to resist, Nanami finds himself becoming increasingly aroused. Your scent fills his nostrils, sending a wave of desire through him. He tries to ignore it, knowing that he should not indulge in such thoughts, especially given your current sleepy state.
But as your warmth envelops him, and your heartbeat syncs with his, it becomes harder and harder for him to fight the urge. He can feel his arousal growing stronger, straining against his towels begging for release.
Nanami lies there, trapped in your embrace, you mumble his name in your sleep. He responds with a muttered curse under his breath, his frustration mounting, knowing he shouldn't, he can't help but reach down and remove the towel that covers his body.
With his arousal growing stronger, he rubs his hardened cock against your thigh, seeking relief. You stir slightly in your sleep, but don't awaken fully. Nanami continues to rub himself against you, the friction sending shivers down his spine.
Feeling guilty for using your body while you're asleep, he whispers a soft apology, "Sorry, baby." Despite the remorse, he can't bring himself to stop. The sensation of your skin against his erection is too intense, too pleasurable.
Nanami continues to move slowly against your thighs, his breathing becoming heavier with each passing moment. He wants nothing more than to bury himself inside you right now, but he knows he can't do that to you while you're asleep.
You unconsciously rub your thighs together, catching Nanami's dick in between. This motion causes his arousal to peak even higher, and when your grip on his head loosens, he takes the opportunity to get off your chest.
He positions himself closer to your core, feeling your wetness through your panties. A low, primal groan escapes his lips, "Shit," he murmurs, unable to contain his excitement any longer.
In one swift motion, Nanami pulls your panties to the side, revealing your swollen bud. Nanami touches you intimately, you keep sleeping, completely unaware of his actions. He watches your face carefully, searching for any sign that you've woken up, but your expression remains peaceful and serene.
Then he starts to rub his dick against your clit, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. You squirm slightly in your sleep, your body responding to his touch despite your unconscious state.
Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he inhales deeply, taking in your sweet scent. He continues to rub against your sensitive bud, his movements slow and deliberate. He wants to savor this moment, to make sure you feel everything he's feeling. His breaths become ragged and uneven, his body trembling with anticipation.
Eventually, he can't take it anymore. He lifts his head, trailing kisses down your neck and chest, pausing briefly to suck on your clad nipple, causing you to stir in your sleep. You instinctively arch your back, pressing yourself into his touch.
Nanami smiles, pleased with your reaction. He gradually increases the intensity of his movements. Your body jerks in response, and he can feel your arousal building rapidly. Moaning softly against your neck, he can barely contain his own excitement.
Your eyes slowly flutter open on hearing him groaning and whimpering in pleasure. Noticing his movements, you decide to keep quiet, choosing to enjoy the pleasure he brings without interrupting him.
His climax approaches soon, he pulls your top up and finally releases with a loud moan, coating your stomach with his seed. You close your eyes again, relishing the sensation.
Once satisfied, Nanami rests for a moment, still hovering above you. After a few deep breaths, he climbs off of you and settles beside you, wrapping his arm around you protectively. He kisses the top of your head gently, whispering a gentle 'sorry' again. You stir slightly in your sleep, but don't wake up entirely. Instead, you snuggle deeper into his embrace, feeling content and safe in his arms.
As you both lie there, wrapped in each other's arms, Nanami can feel your rhythmic breathing slowly soothing him. The last remnants of his stress and fatigue melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment.
Slowly, he drifts off into a deep sleep, his body finally able to rest after the long day he's had..
â GETO SUGURU
Over the years, your relationship with Suguru, who you refer to as your stepfather, had grown complicated. On the surface, he appeared to be a caring and attentive guardian, providing everything you needed. But beneath the façade, you knew that he detested non-sorcerers, including yourself.
You decided to take extra care in ensuring that you didn't provoke him. You maintained a distance, avoiding any actions that might anger him. Despite the knowledge of his disdain, you still loved him dearly and appreciated his efforts to care for you.
Unbeknownst to you, Suguru harbored more than just an affectionate bond for you. He had developed a deep love - almost possessive - towards you, the only non-sorcerer he cared for. This complex emotion manifested itself in a more physical manner than he intended.
As you moved around the house doing chores, you often caught a glimpse of him watching you from a distance. A chill ran down your spine as you felt his eyes on you. You tried to shake off the feeling and continued with your tasks.
Today, he is out again, committing mass slaughter of mankind, but you cannot say anything, you don't have the power to.
Night fell upon the house, and as slumber begins to settle in your eyes, your thoughts drift to Mimiko and Nanako, the two girls Suguru treats like daughters. You envy their close bond with him, wishing for a similar connection of love and care.
But... Somewhere in the dark, shadows dance, and footsteps crept softly across the floorboards. Suguru... His figure moves silently, as though he's haunting the space. His eyes are dark pools of secrets, reflecting the moonlight that trickles through the windows. He approaches your bed with calculated steps, his gaze locked onto you, his eyes dark from the guilt he commited a while ago.
The distance he's kept all these years felt unbearable, and he could no longer suppress his desires. With guilt pressed on his chest, he slips into your room, closing the door softly behind him. Maybe today's the day he will finally show you, how much he loves you in a different way of course. How much different you are than other non sorcerers. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow on his face, revealing the turmoil within him. Swiftly and with great care, he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself beside you.
You stir slightly, sensing a presence in the room, but it's not enough to wake you up. Unaware of his intentions, you remain oblivious to the events unfolding.
Gently, he reaches out pulling down your panties, exposing you to his gaze. His fingers caressing your inner thighs, sending shivers down your spine. The tenderness of his touch contrasted with the sternness he displays towards others, creating an intoxicating mix of emotions within you.
His gaze lingers on the glistening folds between your legs, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself before leaning forward. His lips brushes against your inner thighs, a feather-light touch that sent shivers through your body.
You stir slightly, but sleep keeps its grip on you. You don't wake up, allowing him to continue. His tongue slides against your sensitive nub, causing a wave of sensations to wash over you.
As he pleasures you, his whispers filled the air. "I've waited for so long, Y/N. I can't wait anymore..."
The words are a testament to the torment you both have endured, the passion of him for you that has built up over time. His cravings are no longer hidden, and he allows himself to indulge in the pleasure that you offer.
His every touch, every lick, is a declaration of the love he holds for you. Despite the disgust he feels towards non-sorcerers, you are the ONLY exception. You are his forbidden fruit, the one thing he can't resist.
As his pace quickens, you feel the tension mounting within you. His dirty words echoing in your dreams making you wetter, intertwining with the pleasure he is providing. And though you sleep, your body responds to his touch, yearning for the release that awaits you both.
His mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh, his tongue dancing in a rhythmic pattern that draws you closer to the edge. The cool night air seems to vanish, replaced by a wave of heat that envelops the room.
As he tastes you on his tongue, he can't resist stroking his own erect member. With every movement of his hand, he gets closer to his own release. The friction creating a symphony of sounds that adds to the ambiance. His breath hitches his body tensing, a clear indication that he is nearing his climax.
Meanwhile, your body responds to his touch with fervor. The sensations overwhelming you, pushing you further into the realm of pleasure. Your breaths becomes uneven, your moans soft yet audible.
He keeps stroking himself. His thumb circling your nub, as his tongue delves inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire being. His groans blending with your moans, creating a melody filling the once peaceful room.
In that moment, your eyes flutter open, catching sight of the unusual sight before you. There he is, kneeling between your legs, his eyes locking onto you with a strong determination. Seeing him like this, so intimate and vulnerable, sends a jolt of surprise coursing through you.
Unable to process what you're witnessing, you simply stare at him. He offers you a sheepish smile, as if asking for your understanding. Though the situation is confusing and unsettling, the tenderness in his gaze commands you to stay silent. You allow him to continue, surrendering to the waves of pleasure crashing over you.
His movements become more frantic, the intensity increasing as he nears his climax. His moans against your sensitive skin intensify, his efforts to hold back dwindling. The anticipation builds within the room, thick and palpable.
In that moment, curiosity gets the better of you and you muster the courage to ask, "Daddy... do you love me?"
The question hangs heavy between you, as if testing the boundaries of their unspoken agreement. To your surprise, he answers without hesitation.
"Yes, of course I do, darling," he whispers, his voice raw and full of emotion. Before you can process his response, he shifts position. His member now brushes against your slit, the contact sending sparks flying through your body. He kisses your jawline, his lips tender against your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.
The sensation of his kisses and licks combined with the pulsing of your now throbbing clit against his member pushes you over the edge. Shuddering under his touch, your clit pulses wildly against his member, messing all over his cock.
At the same moment, his control snaps. With a guttural roar, he finds his release. Hot streams of liquid paint your stomach, marking you with his essence. The last remnants of his restraint slip away, and he collapses onto you, panting heavily.
In that moment, as your heartbeats synchronize, you're reminded of a certain truth. Despite everything, the love between you and Geto, the complexities that bind you together, remain unbroken.
â RYOMEN SUKUNA
Uraume stands before Sukuna, bowing their head in reverence. "My lord, how did it go?"
Sukuna's grin grows wider as he begins to recount his tale. "Ah, Uraume, it was glorious! I slaughtered the humans by the hundreds, reveling in their screams and pleas for mercy. Their fear was intoxicating, and their blood was sweet nectar to my palate." He chuckles to himself, remembering the thrill of the hunt.
As Sukuna finishes his tale, his gaze turns to Uraume. "And where is she?"
Uraume bows their head. "My lord, she is deep asleep, and I did not think it wise to disturb her."
Sukuna's eyes lit up with excitement. "Ah, my little girl is asleep, is she?" Sukuna steps into your room, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The moonlight filters through the window, casting an eerie glow on the scene before him. His eyes land on you, and he is taken aback by what he sees.
You are lying on the bed, one of your hands buried deep within your panties, your breathing heavy and labored. Your robes are barely containing your body, and Sukuna can see the outline of your breasts underneath. His eyes narrow, and he can sense the desperation emanating from you. He approaches you, his four arms flexing as he moves closer.
As he reaches you, he gently grabs your wrist, pulling your hand out of your panties. Sukuna's eyes remain fixed on you as he gently kisses your forehead. He takes off your robe, and you stir in your sleep as the cool air caresses your skin. He adjusts you in his lap, and your eyes open slowly, his two members pressing against your back.
Sukuna's eyes gleam with excitement as he thrusts one of his members into you. You moan loudly, while your body adjusts to his size. His other member rubs against your asshole, sending shivers down your spine. Two of his hands grasp your hips, holding you in place as he continues to thrust. Your body starts to move with his, and you feel yourself getting closer to climax.
You lean onto his chest, and your breathing becomes slow and steady. The whole day you did nothing but annoy Uraume, now you are resting on Sukuna's chest, while he thrusts inside you. Sukuna's eyes never leave your face, watching you with a mixture of desire and tenderness. His thrusts become slower and more gentle, holding you close to his chest.
You start drifting off to sleep again, mumbling softly, "I missed you, daddy." Sukuna's heart skips a beat, and he smiles. He whispers back, "I missed you too, brat." His member continue to move slowly inside you, while you fall asleep in his embrace.
Suddenly, you feel Sukuna's big abdominal tongue stroking your tummy. It's soft and warm, and it sends shivers down your spine. You jolt awake again, moaning in pleasure as Sukuna's member continue to move inside you. Your body begins to respond to his touch, and you feel yourself getting even wetter. Sukuna's eyes gleam with excitement as he watches you squirm under his ministrations. His tongue continues to stroke your tummy, and you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper inside you.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Sukuna says, his voice low and husky.
You nod, unable to form words. All you can do is moan and squirm against him, desperately moving your hips for release.
"I knew you'd like that," Sukuna says, his smile widening. "You always did enjoy my special touches."
His tongue continues to slide against your stomach, moving in slow circles. You feel yourself getting closer to orgasm.
As you approach orgasm, Sukuna suddenly pulls out his member and inserts another one into you. You gasp in surprise, feeling the sudden change in pressure. But Sukuna doesn't stop there - he begins to grind the first member between your abdomen and his own abdominal tongue, creating a sensation unlike any you've ever experienced before.
You writhe beneath him, your body trembling with anticipation. The combination of sensations is almost too much to bear, and yet...you crave more. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your senses heightened to the point.
Just as you're about to reach your peak, Sukuna's other two hands come into play, fondling your breasts and tweaking your nipples. You mewl in pleasure, your body bucking against his.
And then...he pinches your nipples.
It's too much. You explode into orgasm, your walls tightening around his member as you squirt all over him. His own climax hits him, his dick slipping out of you, and you feel the warmth of his fluid splashing across your face and his chest. You collapse against him, panting heavily.
Sukuna chuckles lowly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hmmm.. You did great," he says, his voice rough with desire. His abdomen tongue gives a long lick on your oversensitive clit, you shudder against him, whining and panting.
After your orgasm, you drift off to sleep, your body still twitching occasionally as you fall into a deep slumber. Sukuna, however, does not join you. He sits there, his chest heaving slightly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping face. He smirks, satisfied with the sight of you sleeping peacefully after the intense moment you just shared.
As the night wears on, he lays you on the bed and stands up, stretching his muscular frame. His members are still slick with your juices, glistening in the moonlight. Sukuna walks out of the room, leaving you alone in the dimly lit chamber.
He pauses at the doorway, to gaze at your sleeping body before speaking softly," Uraume will be coming soon to check on you." The sound of the door creaking shut, soon audible. You're left alone in the silence, your body still humming from the intense experience, your breath coming out in short spurts. Wave of slumber washes over you, and you snuggle into the bedding, your mind replaying the moments of you and your step daddy together <3
â SHIU KONG
As you lay in bed, half-asleep, you could hear the distant sound of the front door creaking open. The sound of footsteps made its way up the stairs, and you knew your stepdad was home from another long day at work.
Stepping lightly onto the floorboards to avoid making any noise, Shiu tiptoes towards your bedroom door, catching a glimpse of you in your sleep. You are sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep, lips slightly parted, your chest gently rising and falling with each breath.
He hesitates for a moment, considering whether to wake you or simply watch you from afar. His gaze lingered on your lips, imagining how soft they would feel under his own.
Shiu finally makes his decision, pushing the door open just wide enough to slip inside. He walks towards your bed, and leans down, brushing his lips against your cheek, a faint smile on his face as he whispers softly, "Hey, kiddo, how are you doing?"
You could feel the stubble of his moustache against your skin and catch the distinct smell of his cigarette smoke.
Your response to his presence ,barely audible - a soft, almost imperceptible purr. Your hand reaches out unconsciously, gripping his hair gently, holding onto him for a brief moment, acknowledging his presence.. This small display of affection catches Shiu off guard, causing a warm feeling in his chest. He reluctantly pulls away, ready to leave your room.
But as he turns to go, he can't help but notice the way you lick your lips and bite your bottom lip in your sleep, an innocent gesture that sent a wave of desire through him. It's more than he could handle..
As he watches you, he notices your lips tremble slightly, adding another layer of complexity to the situation. Something about this sight compels him to trace the edge of your lip with his fingertip, watching as it responds to his touch.
His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, sending shivers down your spine. Before either of you can stop it, he slips his finger into your mouth, feeling the warmth and softness enveloping his digit.
His breath hitches at the sensation of your warm mouth around his finger, desire coursing through him like an electric current. This intimate act is both enticing and unsettling, causing him to harden despite his relationship to you. The lingering stress from his work melts away, replaced by a raw, primal need.
Feeling his erection growing stronger under his trousers, Shiu struggles to maintain control. This unexpected turn of events, coupled with the stress of his demanding job, has left him caught between desire and duty.
His finger slides in and out of your mouth, eliciting small moans from you in your sleep. Each movement brings him closer to losing control, yet he finds himself unable to look away. His chest rises and falls rapidly, every deep breath fueling the fire within him.
With great difficulty, he pulls his finger from your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. He can't deny the arousal pooling within him, but he also understands the gravity of what just happened. The line between duty and desire has been blurred.
Shiu swallows hard, acknowledging the evidence of his arousal pressing against his trousers. His mind races, torn between relief and embarrassment. His thoughts jump from the implications of his reaction to the fact that your saliva still coats his finger.
Without warning, he reaches into his trousers, using the slippery digit to stroke himself through his boxers. The sensation is intense, made all the more potent by the imagination of your lips wrapped around it.
His fingers glide over his erection, matching the rhythm of your breathing. The contrast between your innocent slumber and his explicit actions adds an element of taboo.
"I shouldn't be doing this," he whispers hoarsely, his voice raspy with desire. Despite his words, he continues to stroke himself, drawing circles around the head of his penis.
His gaze lingers on your face, searching for understanding or forgiveness. The lines of anxiety etched into his own face soften slightly as he watches you sleep, oblivious to the turmoil unfolding next to you.
"But I can't... I can't stop." He murmurs, speeding up the pace of his movements.
Unable to resist any longer, Shiu climbs onto the bed, positioning himself above you. He rubs the tip of his erection with your cheek, the moisture from earlier creating a slick surface on it.
As he presses down, your lips part involuntarily, the head of his penis slipping past them effortlessly. You adjust instinctively, your tongue darting out to taste him. It's an erotic dance of sorts, with both of you responding to primal urges without conscious thought.
His hips rock slowly, guiding you around his body. The sensation is foreign yet exhilarating; he can feel your warm mouth engulfing him inch by inch. He winces slightly, a low groan escaping him.
Despite his efforts to remain silent, the sound reverberates throughout the room, filling the space with a heavy silence. He stares at the ceiling, his heart pounding wildly, desperate not to wake you.
Your sleeping form moves unconsciously, your throat bobbing over its shaft as you continue to explore its length. His grip tightens reflexively, your actions pushing him closer to release.
"Oh God..." he breathes out, his breath ragged.
The intensity builds, and without realising it, he begins thrusting into your waiting mouth, moving faster and harder. His moans become louder, no longer containing the growing passion within him.
Despite his efforts to be discreet, the sounds carry across the room. They're uneven, bordering on frantic, painting a picture of unrestrained desire.
In the midst of it all, you finally wake up from your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, blinking rapidly in the dim light. The scene before you is shocking, but it doesn't deter you. Instead, you wrap your lips more firmly around him, sucking harder.
He jolts upright, eyes flying open wide, when he registers your consciousness. He freezes momentarily before resuming his erratic thrusts. Apologies echo softly in your ear, muffled by your actions. In spite of everything, you continue to serve him, your teeth grazing his shaft gently.
His apologies dissolve into pleas as he grasps your hair, tugging lightly. "Daddy needs your warm mouth so bad. Please forgive me." His words are thick with emotion, betraying the turmoil within him.
Your sleepy eyes flutter again, meeting his pleading ones. Your slow, drowsy movements were replaced by increased suction, setting a rhythm that matches his movement.
He releases it into your mouth suddenly, cum spilling hot and thick into your throat. A strangled cry escapes him, his entire body shaking with release. As he comes down from the high, he pulls out of your mouth, giving you time to adjust.
Gently, he scoops you into his arms, cradling you tightly against his chest. His heart pounds heavily in his chest, guilt and gratitude battling for dominance.
"I'm... I'm so sorry," he mumbles, closing his eyes tightly. "Thank you, Y/N." His words are mumbled into your hair, an admission of relief and regret.
You hug him tightly, whispering "It's okay. No problem" into his shirt. His scent surrounds you, grounding you in the surreal experience.
As the adrenaline fades, he drifts off to sleep, holding you close. For now, at least, everything seems to fall into place.
â HIGURUMA HIROMI
Hiromi spends long hours at work, tirelessly chasing justice for his clients. He's known for taking on challenging cases others might deem hopeless, often putting in extra hours to ensure he leaves no stone unturned in his pursuit of truth. As a result, he rarely has time to spare for anything else, leaving little room for leisure or relaxation.
When he isn't in court or meeting with clients, he's buried in mountains of paperwork, pouring over every detail meticulously. Even at home, you often find him poring over files or discussing strategy with colleagues late into the night. His dedication to his profession knows no bounds, and it shows in the relentless pace he maintains daily.
Thus, instead of finding his little girl sleeping in her room, he arrives home to find her curled up on his bed. What could you do? You missed him so much; it's like you rarely get to see him.
"You shouldn't be here," he repeats, his voice low but firm. A mix of worry and disapproval fills his eyes as he gazes down at you. "Why aren't you in your own room?"
His fingers brush gently against your cheek, the touch surprisingly tender despite the seriousness of his tone. He seems concerned for your safety and comfort, wondering why you chose to sleep here instead of your own room. His brow furrows further in confusion and concern.
You shift slightly, reaching out in your sleep and grasping his hand, pulling it closer to your breasts. The words "please stay with me" escape your lips, soft and uncertain. Your action catches him off guard, and for a moment, he stands frozen, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.
His eyes flicker between your face and his hand, now resting lightly upon your breast. This unexpected contact sends a wave of heat rushing through him, confusion mingling with arousal. He tries to process the sudden shift in dynamics between the two of you.
Very slowly, he removes his hand from your breast, feeling each curve beneath his palm before reluctantly withdrawing it. His gaze lingers on your face, turbulent with a myriad of complex emotions - part protectiveness, part confusion, and undeniably lust.
"My sweet girl..." he murmurs, running a hand through your hair, "I am here now.."
Hiromi hesitates, then carefully lies down beside you, wrapping his arms around you gently. Despite the shock of your actions, he can't deny the vulnerability in your request for his presence. His heart rate slows as he holds you, feeling your warm breath against his chest.
For several minutes, he simply lies there, stroking your hair and whispering soothing words into your ear. Then, he starts kissing your cheeks, then your neck, providing comfort through touch and warmth. Each kiss is deliberate and slow, filled with affection and care
As his lips trace along your skin, you feel a surge of warmth spreading across your body. You cling tighter to him, not wanting him to leave.
Hiromi pauses, his lips hovering above your collarbone. "I am here, don't worry" he promises softly, his voice husky with unspoken desire.
With careful fingers, he lifts one of your legs and places it across his hips, using the other hand to massage your calf gently. As he works his way up, he notices the dampness of your shorts, the fabric clinging to your thigh. His heart skips a beat, and he freezes mid-stroke.
Swallowing hard, he leans closer to your ear, his voice barely audible. "Why...are you wet, sweetheart?" His tone is cautious, a mix of curiosity and concern. He's unsure how to interpret this new development, but the tenderness in his voice remains unchanged. He's still trying to provide comfort, yet his mind races with questions and uncertainty.
"Is everything okay?" he asks softly, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your inner thigh, hesitant yet unable to resist touching you. He needs answers, but more importantly, he needs to make sure you're safe.
Your silence hangs heavy in the room, the weight of the situation palpable between you both.
In response to your silent plea, you scoot closer to him, pressing your damp core against his half-hard dick. The friction is deliberate, seeking relief or perhaps some form of comfort. As you move against him, he starts to stiffen, feeling your insistence through his clothing. The friction ignites a fire within him, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. His breath hitches, and he grips your waist tightly, struggling to contain his reaction.
His mind swirls with conflicting thoughts - desire, confusion, guilt. This unexpected turn of events leaves him speechless, torn between stopping you and giving in to his primal urges.
Despite the unexpected turn of events, he doesn't push you away. Instead, he wraps his arm around you more tightly, guiding your movement subtly, matching your rhythm.
Hiromi's voice is hoarse when he speaks, his words thick with emotion. "Are you...in heat?"
Hiromi's question hangs in the air, heavy with implications. In response, you hum softly in your sleep, the sound both affirmative and inviting. It confuses and excites him simultaneously.
With a deep breath, he reaches for your shorts, slowly peeling them down along with your panties. Your wet core is exposed to the cool air, glistening under the faint light. He stares at it for a moment, conflicted but undeniably turned on.
With trembling hands, he pulls you closer, his tongue darting out to lick at your clit. The salty taste of your arousal electrifies him, and he groans quietly against you.
As he continues to pleasure you, you moan sleepily, bucking your hips for more friction. His movements become more confident, his tongue exploring every inch of your swollen flesh. He watches your reactions closely, amazed by the powerful effect his touches seem to have on you.
"Oh god, Y/N..." he breathes out, his voice thick with desire. "You're so wet..."
His fingers dig into your hips as he continues his tongue invasion, your moans growing louder with each pass of his tongue. He can't believe how responsive you are while you are sleeping, your body arching beneath him willingly.
Hiromi's brings his fingers to your folds, his fingers slide effortlessly into your wet heat, causing your eyes to flutter open in surprise. You gasp softly, your muscles clenching around his digits as he pushes deeper.
He smiles to himself, his fingers curling upward to stroke the front wall of your pussy. You let out a sleepy moan, your hips rocking instinctively against his hand.
Without hesitation, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his pants to lubricate his already-erect shaft. The motion is swift and efficient, his eyes never leaving clenching hole as he frees his hardness.
Hiromi plunges his tongue into your hole, his strokes becoming more urgent as he stimulates both your pussy and himself. The sensations are overwhelming, and you moan softly, your eyes half-opening to meet his gaze.
Hiromi's eyes lock onto yours, his pupils dilated with desire. He's mesmerized by your sleepy, aroused state, his fingers tightening around his shaft as he continues to pleasure you. The sight of you, responding to his touch like this is both thrilling and confusing, but he can't seem to stop.
Your hand wraps around his hair, gently pulling his head closer to your center. The pressure forces his nose against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your breathing becomes labored, your moans growing louder as you rock your hips against his face.
Hiromi's eyes flutter closed, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply, drinking in your scent. He's completely absorbed in the moment, his senses overwhelmed by the intimacy of the act. His fingers continue to stroke his erection, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chases your release.
His tongue darts out, tasting the sweet nectar of your arousal. He sucks gently on your clit, his fingers pumping his erection in time with the motions of his mouth. The combination of sensations is intoxicating, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of climax.
The pressure builds to a crescendo, and you shatter around his tongue, crying out in ecstasy. Your walls contract, trying milking his tongue for every last drop of pleasure. He licks and suckles, coaxing out every last tremor from your climax.
As you ride the aftershocks, he brings his cock closer, rubbing the tip against your still-sensitive clit. He moans loudly, his hips jerking in response to the stimulation. The sensation is too much for him to handle, and he releases on your thighs, coating your skin with his seed. The pleasure is intense and sharper than any legal victory he's ever experienced.
After his release, Hiromi takes a few deep breaths, his body trembling with exhaustion. He collapses next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your head.
â CHOSO KAMO
The sound of moans and the mention of his name stop Choso in his tracks like a bullet hitting a target. His heart races and his breath hitches. Is this real? Could it really be you, making those sweet noises?
He slowly moves closer to the door, trying to listen better. The sound comes again, "Choso.. mhm- daddy." it seems softer this time, almost like you need him. His cock grows hard in response, throbbing painfully against his pants. He's never thought of you this way before, but now the image of you, pleasuring yourself while calling out his name, is burned into his mind. His dick twitches in his pants, straining against the fabric. He looks down, seeing a wet spot forming there.
"This isn't right, you're not supposed to want your stepdaughter like this." But the taboo nature of it only makes the desire grow stronger. Slowly, he reaches down and adjusts himself through his pants, trying to ease the pressure building up.
Choso hesitates at the door, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. You're asleep, peaceful and innocent looking. Your cheeks are flushed against the pillow, and another pillow is nestled between your thighs, mimicking the motion of being fucked moving gently as you make soft, sleepy moans.
With a deep breath, he steps into the room, shutting the door gently behind him. He approaches your bed, looking down at you as you sleep. The sight of you, even in sleep, is arousing. Your face squeezed on to the pillow, those soft moans escaping from your lips. He feels like he shouldn't be here, watching you, but he can't help it. As much as he tries to fight it, he can't deny his curiosity.
"I am here baby, do you need anything?," Choso asks quietly, his voice barely audible.
His eyes trace over your form, taking in the sight of you. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your thighs clamp around the pillow. He swallows thickly, feeling the heat rush to his face. He should leave, shouldn't he? But he can't seem to tear his gaze away from you.
"Hey.. Is everything alright?" he asks again, his voice barely above a whisper. He wants to reach out, to touch you, to make sure you're alright. But he knows that would be wrong. Still, he can't stop himself from reaching out, lightly brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.
You reply in your drowsy state ,"N-need Cho daddy so bad", Choso's breath catches in his throat. He had heard you correctly. You need him, Daddy, so bad. Heat floods his cheeks, but he can't look away. You move restlessly in your sleep, your legs shifting apart slightly. His eyes follow the movement, catching sight of your dampened panties.
He swallows hard, his voice rough as he asks, "Do you need my help with this?"
Your response is a soft hum, and he sees your lips part slightly. You're so vulnerable, so exposed in your slumber. Choso's hand trembles as he reaches out, gently pulling your panties down, revealing your glistening slit. He takes a moment to admire the sight, the wetness glistening in the moonlight filtering through the window. His cock throbs painfully at the sight, aching to be inside you.
"Baby, do you want me to help you feel better?" he whispers, his voice shaking. He knows this is wrong, but he can't resist the temptation any longer.
Slowly, Choso slides his finger into you, marveling at how tight and wet you are. He can't believe this is happening. You're so responsive, even in your sleep. He pulls back his finger, coated in your wetness, and brings it to his mouth. Tasting you sends a thrill through him.
Undressing hastily, he discards his pants and boxers, revealing his erection. It's throbbing, desperate for release. He positions himself above you and gently circles your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. Your eyes start to open, but you're still lost in the haze of sleepiness. You nuzzle your face into the pillow, a soft whimper escaping you as he begins to thrust into you.
"Shhh, it's okay, baby," he murmurs, trying to calm you. "Just enjoy it. Let me take care of you."
Your eyes focus on him, wide with confusion and desire. "Daddy..." you mumble, not quite understanding what's happening.
"It's okay, just relax," he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "I'm going to make you feel good."
He continues to thrust into you slowly, gently at first, letting your body adjust to him. Your moans become louder, more distinct, as he increases the pace. You arch your back, meeting his thrusts, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.
As he fucks you, you start to come alive. Your hips buck against him, urging him deeper. You're so responsive, so eager. He can tell you're close, your breaths quickening, your nails digging into the sheets.
"That's it, baby," he whispers, his voice ragged. "Let go for me."
You let out a cry, your orgasm washing over you. Your inner walls clench around him, milking him as you climax. Choso groans, unable to hold back anymore, he quickly pulls out of you, watching as you collapse back onto the bed, gasping for air. He can't wait any longer; his release is imminent. He strokes himself a few times, aiming for your back.
A hot stream of cum lands on your skin, followed by another. He keeps cumming, covering your back in his seed. His breath hitches as he finishes, collapsing next to you. His heart pounds in his chest, his breaths shallow.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," he mutters continuously.
You turn to face him, your eyes full of gratitude. "Thank you, Daddy," you say softly, reaching out to touch his face. "That felt so good."
Without waiting for a response, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. He protests weakly, but he doesn't struggle. You snuggle against him, feeling his heartbeat under your ear.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#jjk x reader smut#geto x reader#geto smut#getou suguru x reader#shiu x reader#toji x reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro x reader#hiromi smut#hiromi x reader#choso smut#choso x reader#nanami smut#kento x reader#nanami x reader
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Three days had passed since Jellybean, your rescued stray, vanished. Though an outdoor enthusiast at heart, she'd never missed a meal. Now, your phone tracker beeped, signaling proximity. The crafty runt had escaped, but you were closing in. Jellybean's street-smart ways usually brought her home, yet this time felt different. As you followed the signal, hope and worry battled within.
You traveled alone as none of the townspeople were brave enough to help with your search. The mere mention of the North Woods shook them to the core, earning your request swift declines and slammed doors in your face. Whispers and rumors follow you with every interactionÂ
Secluded and untraceable, his cabin lies tucked away, invisible to prying eyes.
Rumors swirl of his territorial fury. Trespassers bewareâthis hunter stalks from afar. His domain is unforgiving, and his presence is a constant threat. The lucky ones spot the warning sign; others never see him coming.
Even the butcher, renowned for his toughness, said no, unwilling to even hear you out.
âThereâs a man in the woods,â he said, voice unwavering. âYouâd be smart to forget the idea.â
The boom of the door closing makes you flinch, jumping back a bit. A man in the woods? Surely not.
Even more absurd than some creep in the woods was the thought that the big, bad butcher was scared of him. This was a man who walked you home at night, who sneered at men and pulled you close to his side when you became uncomfortable. You knew him for a long time and youâd never seen him so much as flinch, but suddenly he was all squinted eyes and hushed tones at the thought of even stepping a foot off the beaten path. It couldn't be true, right?
Well, there was only one way to prove him wrong, and it was the only way you were gonna get Jellybean back. Youâre going in that forest, urban myth or not.
Shadows lengthen as you exit your truck. The door closes with a hollow thud. The townsfolk's warnings replay in your mind, urging caution. You scan the area, heart racing. Drooping leaves cast an ominous veil over the forest. The murky depths seem to whisper, both alluring and forbidding.
Anxiety grips you as you take a step further. "Bean?" You whisper, voice trembling.
Silence answers. Twigs crack underfoot, and each snap creates an ominous echo. You cringe, the sounds amplifying your unease. Yet you press on, searching the quiet forest.
Minutes stretch like hours as you quietly call Bean's name, doing your best not to attract any unwanted attention, as the woods loom, hiding unknown dangers. Glancing down, your phone shows her location, unchanged, since she first wandered off. Jellybean's absence at this late hour is unsettling. She never stayed out of the house this long, and not so still, either. You can't help but think the worst, deciding to hurry closer to her, praying to find her safe.
Venturing deeper, the terrain grew wilder. Massive leaves parted, revealing fallen trunks and tilted trees. The more you looked around, the more it became clear that the uncharted wilderness wasn't made for humans.
There was no possible way.
The forest gave little leeway to those travelings through its domain. Predators strayed barely out of sight, lurking in hopes you'd be their next meal. A howl in the distance has you on edge, skin crawling, the feeling of being watched running anxious edges.
"Just keep walking. It'll be okay. The tracker says she's near." You reassured yourself under quite murmurs, trying to will your heart calm.
Then it appeared without warning.
A wolf lurches from the woodland gloom, baring his jagged canines, poised and ready to pounce. He circles you in a slow, menacing loop, foam pooling from his parted jaws. His eyes blaze with a frenzied gleam, wild and driven by something beyond hunger. Some dark, unseen force propels him, and you feel it tightening around you.
You turn and run.
Run as fast as your legs can carry you, tearing through the thick underbrush. Foliage slaps your arms and face, and the weeds clutch at your ankles like skeletal fingers desperate to drag you down. You ignore the stinging scratches, the pounding in your chest. If you fall, if you falter for even a secondâyou know itâs over.
Run.
The untamed beast snaps its jaws inches behind you, hot breath searing your calves, each bite narrowly missing as he hounds you with ruthless, single-minded determination. You crash through a thicket, branches clawing at your arms, tearing through your clothes, until you stumble onto a barely visible trail where weak shafts of light seep through gaps in the trees.
Thereâs no time to think. No time to process the sting of cuts or the burn in your lungs, nothing beyond the raw, primal instinct to get the hell away from the rabid creature on your heels.
Then you see it.
A cabin.
Really, a dilapidated shack, its sagging roof overrun with twisting vines, looms before you, barely held together by rotting beams and splintered boards. The whole structure looks one hard gust away from collapse, yet itâs the only shelter in sight. You donât hesitate, heart hammering in your chest, and charge toward the door.
In your frantic rush, you miss the glint of watching eyes, shining like dark coals from the shadows behind, tracking your every move.
You burst inside, slamming the door shut with a desperate shove, then lean your back against it. Your chest heaves, each ragged breath scraping your lungs as you struggle to catch your breath, the weight of dread pressing down on you even harder than the beastâs pursuit.
The aroma of simmering soup wafted through the air, warmth enveloping you. A cozy scene unfolded: a bubbling pot atop a wooden stove, a modest desk tucked away, and a solitary lantern casting a soft glow. The space exuded an unexpected warmth, soft light pooling over worn furniture and the faint scent of old wood calming your frayed nerves. Your pulse slowed as the familiar coziness settled around you. Then, a gentle brush against your leg pulled you from the haze of adrenaline.
You glanced downâand there she was. Jellybean, her eyes wide and radiant, a few telltale crumbs clinging to her brown fur from some long-forgotten snack.
A rush of tenderness overtook the fading remnants of panic. You reached down, catching the elusive little troublemaker as she gave an indignant squirm. âYou littleââ The half-hearted scold fizzled, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming need to hold her close. âHowâHow did you end up here, huh?â
Holding Jellybean close, you feel the weight of your situation settling over youâa stranger in a cabin far from familiar ground, with the last of the sunlight slipping away, trapping you inside until dawn. Outside was darkness thick and impenetrable, the forest itself a living maze you dared not attempt at night.
âShit,â you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might stir something in the shadows.
Slowly, you move deeper into the space, eyes sweeping over the bare walls and spartan furniture. Thereâs something unnervingly sterile about the placeâno photos, no knickknacks. Not a trace of personality or life. Who would live here? The rumors of some reclusive figure haunting these woods flash through your mind.
No. You shake your head, brushing off the thought. This was probably just some hunterâs shack. Or a place someone from town stayed now and then, just a shelter, nothing more.
Your foot presses down on a loose floorboard, and a loud creak echoes through the stillness. You freeze, heartbeat stuttering. Jellybeanâs ears twitch, but she remains calm. Before you can step back, a low groan seeps from somewhere within the cabin, rolling through the floorboards, shivering up your spine.
Your grip tightens on Jellybean, and you hold your breath, listening.
âI-Is anyone thereâŠ?â Your voice barely steady. The words hover in the silence, as though the shadows themselves are holding their breath, waiting.
Then, clear as day, you hear it.
âHelp⊠meâŠâ
The voice is thin and broken, barely more than a whisper. Instinct screams at you to ignore it, to sit tight until morning. But something tugs at you. The sound is weak, desperateâhuman. The cabin feels suddenly smaller, its walls pressing in, urging you to run.
âPlease⊠someone help meâŠ"
A shiver races down your spine. Curse your altruism. You clutch Jellybean tighter, swallowing back the fear rising in your throat.
âU-uh, whereâŠ?â The question slips out before you can think, shaky and uncertain.
Silence stretches taut, pressing against your ears. Then, faint and low, a whining sound rises from beneath the floorboards, almost like a wounded animal. Every instinct screams at you to turn back, to stay safe. But you find yourself edging closer to the noise, heart hammering against your ribs.
Your gaze lands on a small, almost-hidden door near the far wallâthe entrance to a cellar.
The pleas are louder here, wavering but persistent, each whisper curling up from the depths. âHelp⊠pleaseâŠâ
You should walk away. This is a bad idea. A terrible idea. But, against every sliver of common sense, your hand reaches out, fingers trembling as they brush over the handle.
It turns with a rusty groan, and you pull the door open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into shadow. At the bottom, you catch the flicker of ember light, glowing faintly as if from a dying fire.
The cellar stretches out before you, a vast, dimly lit space far larger than should exist beneath such a modest shack. Shadows cling to the walls, the only light casting a faint, sickly orange glow that barely cuts through the murk. You step cautiously, heart-pounding, but then you glance to your rightâand freeze.
The scene hits you with a nauseating force. Men hang suspended from thick meat hooks, bodies bruised and broken, some barely clinging to life, others unmoving, their faces blank and eyes empty. Their battered forms twist slightly in the air, like grotesque puppets left to dangle and rot. You swallow hard, stomach twisting as bile rises in your throat.
But then the horror deepensârecognition dawns. One face after another, familiar, each one seared into memory. The delivery driver who refused to take no for an answer, the lawyer from the pub whose relentless advances wore you down, the pizza guy who loitered outside your job, watching, waiting. All here. Hung like slabs of meat in this nightmarish cellar.
Your mind spins, the details piecing together in a sickening realization. The butcher. Heâd warned them off, told you they wouldnât bother you anymore. But this? This was something beyond any threat, beyond any punishment youâd ever imagined.
How? How had they ended up here? How did any of this exist beneath an unassuming cabin in the middle of the woods?
You werenât supposed to see this. This was something that should have remained buried, hidden in the depths where secrets go to rot. The enormity of it presses down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.
But then, one of them stirs. The pizza guy, his head lolling weakly to the side, lifts his face. His eyes, clouded and bloodshot, light up with recognitionâa desperate spark of life in his hollow gaze. âHelp! Please, before he comes back!â he rasps, voice cracking.
He.
The word rings in your mind, cold and jagged. He? Who could do this? Who would do this?
Your voice trembles as the question slips out, a thin whisper in the oppressive silence. âWâwho⊠who are you talking about?â
The cellar door slams shut behind you, the echo reverberating off the cold stone walls, trapping you in the silence that follows. Heavy, methodical footsteps descend the rotting stairs, each step creaking beneath his weight. His breathing is deep, ragged, each inhale and exhale marking his slow, purposeful approach.
Donât turn around.
Your body locks up, instinct screaming to flee, but your legs refuse to move. You clutch Jellybean tightly to your chest, but suddenly, she squirms, thrashing in your arms in a way she never has before. Confusion twists through your terrorâJellybean has always clung to you, never trying to escape. What was she doing?
With a leap, she slips from your grasp, landing soundlessly on the floor. She pads past you, moving behind you, and the silence is filled with soft, delighted purring.
You donât want to look. You hold still, desperately hoping that if you donât move, youâll disappear, fade into the shadows. But you can feel him standing just behind you, the weight of his presence pressing down like a storm cloud.
And then, a voice. Familiar. Deep, smooth, and thick with a British lilt, edged with something that both chills and soothes you.
âGood girl,â he murmurs, a note of affection clear in his tone as he addresses Jellybean.
Recognition strikes you like a blow. That voiceâyouâve heard it a thousand times. The same voice that always offered a warm âgood eveningâ when he walked you home at night. The same voice that laughed as he handed Jellybean her treats at the butcher shop. The same voice that warned you, with a peculiar intensity, to avoid these woods.
The butcher.
---
A/N: I don't usually do long writing stuff... but I've had this one in the drafts for too long and wanted it out. I kind of like how it turned out but I can def improve!
#call of duty#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#ghost x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#sunshine-sunni
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ORDINARY THINGS â ì ê”
đ ordinary things, as long as iâm with you.
after a lost match, jeonggukâs only source of comfort is you.
from the grande series àšà§
pairings: soccer captain!jk x fem!reader
genre: fluff, established relationship
warnings: lower case intended, i wanna say that i know very little about soccer, even more about what goes on behind the scenes, but of course i had to put jeongguk in bellinghamâs iconic holey socks hehe đ», itâs a bit angsty at first just bc ggukkie is an angsty boy, but then all of it is just fluff really! hints at mental illness, heavy use of the pet name baby, theyâre so funny i love them, theyre also horny! only mentions of sex tho, and sexy kisses and touches keke
word count: 6990
a/n: waaa omg i managed to keep this under 10k words whoâs proud of me! this is so slow but im in love w their domestic dynamic đ
ââââàšà§ââââ
the piercing whistle cuts through the air.
it marks the official end of the match, sealing the loss of your boyfriendâs team. the sound feels sharp, final, not only to the game.
you knew this was fairly important. it wasnât too decisive on the teamâs position in the ranking, but you knew it mattered to him. like every other game, regardless of stakes.
whether it was a friendly or a tournament, jeongguk had no other mode but all in.
that dedication shows in every tense line of his body now. the weight of defeat begins to sink in, and you can see it on his face, the way it affects him.
you can already sense whatâs swirling around in his mind, behind the quiet exterior. youâre sure of it from how he still stands there, avoids his surroundings, keeps his eyes glued to the ground, the green field suddenly more captivating.
you donât need words to know. heâs retreating inward, locking away his disappointment, and likely taking on more than just the burden of his own loss.
heâs probably thinking of his teammates, feeling like he let them down too. allowing it all to crash on him, the single outcome of this match unraveling everything he worked hard for.
his confidence shatters with the refereeâs whistle, and it shuts down the noise of the crowd, makes him unresponsive to the comforting pats on his back from his friends. itâs all a distant hum to him now.
jeongguk is deliberately slow as he almost mechanically leads his exhausted self out the pitch, body moving without his mindâs consent.
he doesnât care if itâll take him forever to take these steps. if heâs the last one leaving. he just needs a moment to figure out his next move.
but can he? can he face his team without this ugly feeling gnawing at him? can he keep lying, tell them they did well, that theyâll do better next time, while his own mask suffocates him? is he even deserving of the captain title?
he doubts it, his legs moving as if the world has time to offer him, body struggling under the weight of a lifeless feeling creeping in.
your heart clenches painfully. from the sidelines, watching him like this breaks something in you.
you grip the hem of your tennis skirt, fingers twitching as you fight the crazed urge rising in your throat to just run to him.
itâs hard to find your breaths when witnessing your boyfriend destroying himself as if thatâs the only treatment he thinks heâs deserving of. but you also know the last thing you want to do right now is to draw more attention to him when heâs so raw, vulnerable. when every eye in the stadium strips him bare.
and you just want to put his every piece back, cover him in warmth. your mind is made up when you abruptly stand up, hastily making your way toward the locker room before he can get there, offering polite smiles to the players who are already getting inside.
you settle outside the door, waiting.
jeongguk drags behind the others, eyes still casted down. heâs so absorbed in his escape, so lost in the act of avoidance, that youâre certain he wonât notice you, with your beating heart held out to him in your cold hands.
yet, he does find some sort of answer in the ground he keeps staring at, asking for solutions.
amidst the worn, muddied football boots, he spots your shoes. dr. martens platforms, the ones you pair with white socks that ruffle at the top.
the sight is enough to pull him out of his daze, and he looks up.
the door to the locker room closes behind the last player, the heavy thump echoing in the long hallway. it startles you, just as jeonggukâs sudden awareness startles him, and you search for some sort of stability in each otherâs eyes.
his own are glossy with unshed tears, and they glisten under the harsh fluorescent light. it doesnât help the way his vision gets blurrier and pulls you farther from him.
but he needs to see youâ the comfort in your face, the one that he feels as though he canât breathe without.
jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut, the tears slipping free, but the moment he flutters his eyelids open and meets you clearly, he doesnât care.
his wide, tear-filled gaze takes you in. brows drawn up, your expression seems to mirror his. youâve always absorbed peopleâs emotions to an almost extreme degree. when others cry, so do you. and when jeongguk cries, it feels like the whole world is falling apart.
but you canât afford that happening, and youâll hold its full weight on your shoulders to prevent such thing.
this time, you need to be stronger for him. swallowing the lump rising in your throat, you blink back your own tears and take a hesitant step toward him.
jeongguk, so much taller than you, seems to shrink before your eyes. right now, heâs the smallest, most fragile boy.
âbaby,â your voice is a soft whisper, arms stretching open in a subtle invitation, one that he doesnât need to be asked twice.
the moment you speak and break the quiet, the dam heâs been holding up crumbles. he crashes into you, hands wrapping tightly around your waist, his nose buried in the crook of your neck.
the impact makes you stumble slightly, but you hold him just as tight in return, focusing on his sharp breaths against your skin, wet with his tears, body trembling in your embrace.
your arms wrapped around his neck, you squeeze him hard, as if heâs a sponge that youâre trying to empty from all the dirty liquid. all the exhaustion, the anxiety, the guilt.
with the way he downright drops his full weight on you, you guide him to sit on the bench just outside the locker room. he slumps beside you, heavy and limp against you, seeking your warmth and comfort the way an addict seeks for the drug thatâs able to keep them going.
you sit like that for a while, and you think itâs better this way. he has time to let it out against your chest, and you have the time that you need to compose yourself before youâre met with the full extent of his brokenness.
the second you see his tear stricken face, you think all of the effort was useless. youâre so, so weak.
jeongguk hiccups, lifts his face, his wide eyes flitting between yours like one would follow a tennis match at his peak point, searching for something, the smallest indicator of victory.
the tears make his cheeks red, and it adds to the frantic pleading he trips on, âbâbaby, please. i donâtâ iâm tired. wannaâ homeââ
âhey, gguk. ggukie, breathe,â youâre gentle when you cut him off, taking his face between your small palms to try and steady his panic, and mostly yourself. youâre fighting hard to not break too, to try and be the anchor he needs.
you take exaggerated deep breaths, hoping heâll mirror you, and after a few moments his chest rises and falls in sync with yours, warm breath fanning over your lips.
imperceptibly, you feel his panic begin to ebb. his brows relax and his eyelids blink slower, regaining consciousness of his surroundings.
his hands reach up, covering yours as they rest at his jaw, squeezing them, and he exhales shakily, still not fully over his agitation, âiâm sorry. i wanna go home. i donâtâ donât wanna do interviews, donât wanna see anyone. donât wanna talk to coach. i just wanna be with you, please.â
his speech is hushed, pleading, his words slurred as if afraid youâre going to stop him, force him to go through the motions of whatâs expected of him before he can beg further.
you brush his cheek with your thumb in a slow motion, moving him closer to you, your voice as careful as possible, âbut, jeongguk⊠we canât disappear without at least telling the others. coach will want you to answerââ
âplease, love. please,â he cuts you, words trembling, âdonât make me go through this. iâm too weak now. i canât.â
youâve never seen jeongguk like this before.
itâs been over two years since he asked you to be his girlfriend. that night, he scored a goal for you. you knew it the moment the ball hit the net.
even with his teammates swarming him in celebration, his eyes searched for yours, locking on the moment he found you in the stands.
wrapped in your wool scarf, your face almost fully hidden, the way your eyes turned into crescents and your cheekbones so prominent was unmistakable.
the smile that you shared was sheepish, but brimming with meaning. carrying all those emotions you had both been tiptoeing around for so long.
for a while, your feelings had been caught in a slow dance, never fully picking up, but nonetheless comfortable with the motion.
jeongguk always found a reason to have you near, inviting you to practices and matches, because only your presence could give him the strength needed. and you always found a reason to show up.
even more when you easily fell into the routine that followed every encounter, evenings spent at your apartment, on your couch.
it was a schedule you soon came to love, with him making you laugh, an arm draped over your shoulder, your leg casually resting across his lap. the movies you would put on would quickly become background noise as his playful jokes turned into shared glances, quiet giggles, and stolen kisses.
kisses that felt like the ones teenagers share when theyâre crushing on someone for the very first time.
kisses that didnât evolve into anything more until that night, when he scored for you. it was unashamedly sweet, the feeling he gave you.
back at his flat, his face lit up with a grin so big it was infectious. the rush of adrenaline from winning the game and the joy of finally making you his girlfriend radiated from him.
itâs a stark contrast to his expression, now. itâs drawn with helplessness, clouded with a desperation that makes you ache.
he looks tired of fighting, of holding it all together. and itâs not just thatâ thereâs a deep yearning, a frantic search, a needy plea to be understood, to be seen by you.
thereâs nothing that truly comes more innately to you. itâs second nature, caring for him. knowing him. looking after him. tending to his physical and emotional scars. and you donât want him to scrape his skin further.
you try to reason, âwhatâ what about your things, donât you at least want toââ
âiâll ask taehyung to take my bag with him or something,â for the state heâs currently in, he still looks willing to do anything if it means getting out of here. and so, he begs again, âplease. can we go home?â
you know you canât say no to him. thatâs not something that comes as good to you. not in your nature.
âthis is not the way to your house.â
still in his soccer jersey, the uniformâs shorts touching his knees and holey socks high up his calves, muddy boots hurting his feet, jeongguk sits quietly next to you in the backseat of his car.
his chauffeur drives steadily, away from the hurt, and each mile puts more distance between jeongguk and the weight of the loss, the field, the pressure. he feels himself leave fragments of disappointment behind, back there.
itâs been a long time since it was just the two of you in his car. jeongguk would be the one driving, his left hand steady on the wheel, the right one always reaching for yours, a quiet confirmation of his love.
now, someone else takes care of the driving, especially after games, or in moments like these when jeonggukâs mind and body are too exhausted to handle anything more.
ever since the goal that changed everything between you two, jeonggukâs life took off. a big team recognized his potential and signed him, a moment that marked his breakthrough as pro in the football world.
then, it became a whirlwind. constant games, media attention, opportunities flooding in, and money pouring from every direction.
he bought a house â a mansion, really, â just outside the city, the kind of place he dreamed of as a small kid with big ambitions. everything about it is luxurious, grand, all jeongguk thought he wanted.
but thereâs been something left behind, back in the quieter days when he was just a young player fighting for his place on this planet.
you met him before the fame, before his name was on the backs of jerseys and his face on billboards. you fell in love with the boyish version of him, the one who lived in a cramped flat, working tirelessly to make a name for himself.
youâve been there through every step, enough to recognize the struggle in his eyes.
you so easily catch that flicker of awareness in him. the jolting confirmation that all of this is real, his orbs trembling. and when it hits, he retreats into himself, lets anxiety creep in.
he may not voice it, but you know the root of it. the fear of losing himself, of becoming someone else, of forgetting the version of him thatâs grounded in simplicity and love.
jeongguk fears intertwining himself with what he always wanted will inevitably erase what heâs always been, the son of hardworking parents in busan, raised on sacrifice and dreams.
what he always had with you. quiet, uncomplicated. happy with the ordinary things, eating ramen on the floor of his tiny apartment, driving around just to talk about anything and nothing, reading quietly next to each other in the cafĂš youâve introduced him to, your presence a comfort to him long before he realized he loved you as more than a friend.
jeongguk wants to hold onto that simplicity, and he wants you to be part of that. he wants you to stay by his side, to be the reminder of who he is beneath all the noise. what he wants to keep being.
because youâre his constant, unwavering, never changing. youâve never needed him to be more than who he already is. you never look at him with the kind of judgment or disappointment that seems to follow him after every missed opportunity. thereâs no pressure, no expectations of success.
in your eyes, he is just jeonggukâ the same boy that approached you with a bad pun only to clumsily blame it on his drink. the one you built a familiar rhythm with, ordinariness always just enough for you. for the two of you, together.
you donât need mansions, fancy restaurants, designer clothes. you donât need grandeur. youâll stay the way itâs always been, and the way you both want it to stay.
he quickly scans your face, letting your words register. your brows are furrowed slightly, pouty lips parted as if youâre about to tell the driver that heâs going the wrong way, headed somewhere other than the house he now calls home.
before you can speak, jeongguk interrupts you, his voice soft and suddenly self aware, âoh, iâ sorry, i gave directions to your apartment. i just really wanted to be there with you.â
you blink at his fragile honesty. he had begged to be home, and now here you were, on the way to your own.
warmth spreads through you, and you canât help but break into a big smile, one that eases the tension in his forehead, and mirrors softly in the grin that tugs at his pierced lips.
leaning in, you place a peck on his cheek, âitâs okay, baby. iâve got so many of your clothes in my closet, there wonât be a problem.â
his low chuckle is comforting, and he scrunches his nose in that familiar way, shuffling closer to nuzzle into your shoulder. for a moment, the world outside fades. youâre hopeful as you think you can feel the weight on his heart lifting.
looking up, a teasing smile spreads across his face, âi wonder why.â
his playful shift surprises you, though you try not to show it. you want him to feel normal, like thereâs nothing you should keep being sad over. your brows raise ever so slightly before you roll your eyes in mock exasperation, the fond amusement clear on your features.
itâs enough for jeonggukâs giggles to fill the car, an arm snaking around your waist, âitâs because you always steal my clothes.â
feigning shock, you gasp dramatically, swatting him lightly. he only laughs more, soft sounds bubbling up again, and you can feel love rushing through you, swarming frantically in your chest.
you play along with him, âno, itâs because you always leave your stuff behind after weâ weâŠâ
you trip on your words and pause when you realize what nearly slipped out, sheepishly averting your gaze to glance at the chauffeur, who seemingly looks too focused on the road to hear what youâre saying.
jeonggukâs eyes light up, his smile widening as his fingers teasingly pinch your sides, âafter we what? say it, baby.â
you flinch at his ticklish touch, breaking into a grin and stubbornly shaking your head no. his laughter mingles with yours, bodies pressing tighter as he leans his weight into you, his nose brushing your jaw.
being this close to him, you inhale his scent. he still smells like adrenaline, mixed with exhaustion, sweat pearling his back. the feeling grounds you.
he hums lowly against your skin, his lips trailing wet pecks along your throat, âi miss doing that.â
your chuckle turns into a frenzied groan, and you steady yourself with your hands on his arm still squeezing around you, feeling your face heat up, âthat was three days ago.â
âtoo long,â he mumbles, kisses slowly becoming more languid, savoring you.
when he pulls away from your neck, he doesnât give you a moment to breathe before his lips find yours. the kiss is simple, sweet, but you can feel each beat of his pulse against your mouth.
you break the contact first, your hand slipping into his damp hair, gently brushing the long strands out of his eyes. you think out loud, admiring his perfectly framed face, âyou need to cut these.â
but jeongguk isnât currently interested in haircuts. he ignores your suggestion, his focus entirely on you, and his whispered words hold a kind of raw vulnerability, âi missed you.â
you hum, threading through his locks, âmissed you too, my boy.â
thatâs all he needs to close the gap between you again. this time, his kiss is more intent, deeper, as if trying to communicate what words canât. his hands pull you closer, your chest arching into him, and in between the wet sounds of your lips meeting he lets a moan escape him.
youâre quick to swallow it, your own quiet noises vibrating against him before you put distance once again, softly tugging at his hair and finding his eyes lovingly, âletâs get home first, yeah?â
but he protests, a childlike groan reverberating in his throat, eyelids fluttering shut as he basks in the feeling of you against his lips. he attacks your cheeks next, trailing down, and down, and down, kissing you through your shirt.
then, itâs his fingers touching you under it, hand traveling up and kneading your breasts through your bra, only to slide around to trace the curve of your spine.
the sudden contact is overwhelmingly pleasuring, head thrown back on the headrest as quiet whimpers leave you. jeongguk is as hungry as ever, seeking for proximity no matter your bodies already molding with one another, his teeth scraping against your most sensitive spots, almost digging, eating, tasting.
and you want to let go, allow him to give you every last thing heâs holding onto, be selfish and take it all for yourself.
but you canât when you know this is just another one of his escapes. heâs using this moment to drown out the chaos in his mind, to run from his pain, to bury his burdens and get high on a dopamine rush.
âbaby, waitââ in between gasps, you manage to get your voice out, but its whisper doesnât seem to reach jeonggukâs ears, his long digits boring holes in the flesh of your bare thighs, prickling with goosebumps at his feverish touch.
in your own daze, you carefully take a hold of his face in your palms, lifting him up from the devoting motion of his lips on the edge of your shoulder, and the look in his eyes is hazed, inhebriated on the the burning of your skin under him, but itâs tinged with desperation.
behind his orbs thereâs no other thought but to chase you, his only refuge, and your sweet smile only aggravates his crazed desire, trying to catch your mouth with his before you open it to speak, âi donât want us to do this while youâ youâre still mentally fragile.â
your worry is laced with love, itâs clear from the way it spills out of you, seeps from your delicate touch on his cheeks. but jeonggukâs eyes still widen in shock and shame, orbs shaking with panic.
his brows furrow in an attempt to conceal his turbulent emotions, but the city lights continuously flashing through the car windows only accentuate the glistening under his eyelids. he stammers, âiâ iâm notâ iâm⊠please. donât reject me.â
the plea is shaky, and it makes your pulse race with agitation, fingers grasping his jaw with more intent as youâre quicker on your words than your own thoughts, âoh, honey, iâm not. look at me, please,â the way he flickers his gaze down only makes more panic flood in your veins, and you frantically search for him.
you manage to sound stable, whispered words fanning over his lips, âi just want whatâs best for you, okay? do you trust me?â
he seems to lean into your touch, looking up at you through his lashes, brows still betraying him with the way theyâre drawn up in sorrow. he hums in agreement.
you smile reassuringly, âperfect. then, iâll tell you what weâre gonna do, hm?â when he nods, you continue, brushing his hair back through your calm words, âwe get to my flat. take a hot shower. i make us something warm to eat. and then, if you still want to, iâm all yours. in our bed. sound good?â
our bed. the flicker in your boyfriendâs face doesnât go missed. itâs fond, it softens his eyes, and it rushes down to his lips, struggling not to break into a grin. he pouts to hide it, and you can see heâs still ashamed by his earlier rush, his response muffled, âokay. i love you. iâm sorry.â
you coo, pulling his head to rest on your chest, drawing comforting strokes along his damp back, âi love you more. you did nothing wrong, baby.â
the both of you stay like that for a while. his cheek is squished against your breasts, lips parting to release quiet huffs, and your soothing motions run down his arm.
the quiet moment is interrupted by jeonggukâs phone ringing once again, loud and persisent, for the nth time in less than half a hour. he doesnât even glance at the device when declining the call, and you catch the name flashing before the screen goes black.
itâs his coach calling. you stay quiet as he shuts off his phone completely, tossing it onto the empty seat next to him.
only a few moments pass before he looks up at you, his expression hesitant, a timid smile trying to mask the uncertainty in his eyes. you return his gaze with quiet confidence, nodding subtly, letting him know that youâre here with himâ no matter what.
right now, all that matters is that jeongguk feels safe in your arms. you donât care about the consequences he might face tomorrow. youâll be there for him, just as you are now, when he needs you the most.
the moment you both step in your apartment, shoes messily discarded at the entrance (youâll make sure to take care of his boots later), he trails after you like a lost puppy. he becomes your shadow, mirroring your every step with big eyes and a natural pout.
âtake your uniform off, baby,â you gently instruct him while letting the water run from the shower head, adjusting the temperature until itâs hot enough for the both of you.
he slumps over on the toilet lid, eyes never leaving you as you move around the bathroom. when he lets them travel down your figure, a low groan escapes him.
you look so good in your skirt, the high socks triggering a weird, primal instinct in him, stirring dark fantasies that have him wishing youâd let him take you right there on the sink.
but he knows better than to mess with the plan you set earlier in his car for the both of you to enjoy the night, so he only allows himself to play with you a little, âcan you do it for me? iâm tired.â
he really does seem tired, the exhaustion visible from the way his hands tremble slightly and his eyelids drop, but the look only adds to the lazy smirk spreading on his pierced lips. he knows what heâs truly asking for.
you narrow your gaze at him only to roll your eyes when he doesnât look like heâs going to surrender any soon, grin only widening, and you pull him up by the jersey.
he complies, brows wiggling in teasing disobedience, looking down at you from his taller stance, âwoah, commanding. i like it.â
âshut up,â you only murmur as you hastily strip off his sweaty uniform, throwing it right in the laundry bin. you leave him in his high socks and boxers, smacking his round ass playfully, âtake these off yourself, mister.â
heâs ready to protest, to demand your touch back on him, but you shoot him a look with your raised eyebrows, âah-ah. câmon, and get in the shower, iâll bring your change.â
before he can respond, you leave the bathroom. he whines childishly, slipping off his underwear along with the uncomfortable socks, adding them to the pile in the basket under the sink. he yells over the sound of running water, âyouâre coming too, right?â
âyes!â you quickly call out from the bedroom, voice raised to reach him over the distance.
you know how difficult your boyfriend can beâ if he hasnât come to drag you in yet, youâre at least hoping heâs taken off the rest of his clothes. you foolishly hope heâs already in the shower, though the chances are slim if heâs not completely sure youâll be joining him.
thatâs why you move fast, grabbing his change of clothes from the drawer where you keep all his left-behind things. in your rush, you take one of his oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers for yourself, too.
when you return to the bathroom, youâre not surprised to find jeongguk standing in the middle of it, bare and waiting for you. his eyes light up when he sees you, taking the clothes from your hold and placing them on the counter, âi was about to come and get you.â
you scoff lightly, trying to fight the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but itâs no use. especially when he reaches out to pull you closer, fingers working at the zip of your skirt and sliding it off with ease, his own grin warm on his expression.
you gently push him toward the shower, pretending to scold him, âi can do this myself, thank you. now get in, silly.â
with a disappointed, and very adorable huff, he finally obeys, stepping under the hot steam of water. you can tell by the subtle way his shoulder relax that the heat soothes him, but the tension doesnât completely ease from his muscles.
he tracks your movements attentively, taking in the way you strip yourself completely bare, and only when you step in the small cabin and close the sliding window door behind you he sighs in relief.
jeongguk engulfs you immediately, positioning you both directly under the cascade of water. it blurs your vision slightly, your bangs flattening on your forehead.
you push them out of the way, your hands then finding his own hair to slick it back, allowing you to see the fondness in his eyes clearly.
you look up at him through wet lashes, chin placed on his toned chest, and his own is dipped low to meet your gaze, take in the smile spreading and making your dimples show.
it grows bigger when he sheepishly scrunches his nose, the love seeping from your orbs suddenly overwhelming, and you press a gentle kiss to his adamâs apple before pulling yourself away, voice a whisper, âlet me take care of you.â
jeongguk doesnât argue, complying when you ask to hand you his shampoo. youâd originally bought it as a joke during one of your grocery runs together, picking it off the shelf with a laugh and pointing out the labelâ johnsonâs baby shampoo, made with honey and wheat extracts, and on sale too. youâd exclaimed how it was so jeongguk, and heâd let you try it on him as soon as you got home.
the joke had stuck, and to your surprise, he ended up liking it more than you did. now, it was the only shampoo you used on him whenever he stayed at your place, a small tradition between the two of you.
as you work it into his damp hair, jeonggukâs eyelids flutter shut. he eases into your touch, body going loose as your fingers massage his scalp with the perfect amount of pressure, the kind that always seems to make him melt, the one that could immediately put him to sleep.
you wash it off and repeat the motion once more, taking your time. only when his hair is thoroughly cleaned do you reach for your vanilla body wash, moving on to carefully lather it over his skin.
tracing every line of his body, you watch the way he softens more with your touch, unconsciously swaying closer.
youâre slow, deliberate in your motions, letting your hands run over his shoulders, down his arms, across his chest. his skin is warm and slick under your palms, and every now and then he lets out a contented sigh.
the sounds get fuller when you finally reach his back. you press a little harder, working out the knots you can feel lingering there. he groans softly, his head falling forward slightly, droplets of water dripping from his hair onto your face.
âfeel good?â you ask quietly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.
he nods, his voice low and drowsy. âyeah, feels amazing.â
his moans grow unrestrainedly louder, eyes rolling back, and you would tease him for it if the sight of him like this wasnât having its own effect on you.
biting your lip, you press your fingers deeper into his muscles, and suddenly his hands grip your waist, tight enough to startle you.
it has your mouth opening unconsciously, brows furrowed at the sensitivity. you almost give in when his palms slip further down, resting on the curve of your ass, and for a moment you consider the temptation, but the triumphant smirk on his face immediately pulls you out of your daze. your own fingers work to move his hands to rest at your shoulders.
you manage to sound stable, but you can feel the slight shake in your voice, âhands up here, mister.â
âoh, câmon,â he has the audacity to whine, the sound muffled by his pouty, and so inviting lips.
you almost cave at the sight of him, his eyes wide and pleading. but you know better. if you let him push the boundaries now, things wonât stop here, and the careful rhythm youâve set will be forgotten.
itâs not just him youâre trying to hold backâ itâs yourself too, especially when his gaze almost breaks through your resolve.
you shake your head, trying to gather your composure, suddenly turning off the water and sliding the shower door open.
jeongguk groans in protest at the contrasting cold air hitting his skin, but you promptly step out to reach for your bathrobe and wrap it around him.
pout stubborn on his lips, he follows you out the shower, but instead of arguing further, he surprises you by engulfing you both in the same robe, pressing his chest against your back.
his arms circle you, and he starts rubbing the spongy material of his sleeves against your body, trying to dry you both at once.
you snort, amused by his antics, âwhat are you doing?â
âiâm drying us.â
âthis will take us foreverââ
âno, see? iâm already done,â with ease, he slips out of the robe, laying it over your shoulders and tying the belt snugly around you.
then he casually walks over to grab his change of clothes, pulling the t-shirt over his head despite the fact that his hair is still dripping with water.
you roll your eyes at the sight of it soaking into the fabric and gently push him to sit on the toilet lid, âdonât move. youâre still wet, god.â
âthatâs what she said,â he wiggles his brows, eyes gleaming with immature delight as he grins mischeviously.
you sigh, struggling not to laugh at his pun. instead, you wordlessly grab the hairdryer and start running it through his damp locks.
he obediently leans into you, closing his eyes and resting his head against your chest as your fingers run along his hair. the warmth from the device makes him nuzzle even closer, his posture fully relaxed between your legs.
once his hair is dry and his clothes no longer clinging to his skin, you finally shut off the hairdryer, giving his now fluffy locks a final pat.
the time it took to dry jeongguk allowed the bathrobe to work its magic on you too. you quickly slip into his boxers and one of his many stussy t-shirts you picked randomly, tying a towel around your hair.
you prepare to head out of the bathroom, but before you can his hand gently stops you, gripping your forearm, suddenly towering over you when he stands up, âwhere are you going?â
âto make us dinner.â
âiâll do it. you should dry your hair, or else youâll get a headache.â
âbutââ
âno but. you already did enough, baby. iâm okay, i swear,â his voice softens, and the fond look in his eyes makes it clear he wonât let you argue further. he doesnât even let you respond, stepping out of the room and heading to the kitchen.
a smile tugs at your lips, and you take a deep breath, the comforting scent of vanilla and honey still lingering after he leaves.
youâve always appreciated jeonggukâs attention to detail. he knows how long it takes you to care for your thick, long hair and also remembers the countless nights you complained about your head hurting from leaving it damp. he always listens, even to the smallest things.
twenty minutes later, youâre warm and dry, stepping into the kitchen where the delicious smell of soup greets you. jeongguk is behind the stove, stirring a pot and softly whistling as he tends to another pan on the burner.
when he notices you, his eyes brighten, trailing over your legs and the way his t-shirt sits just above your thighs, revealing glimpses of his boxers. as you approach, he grins, âwhatâs a pretty woman like you doing here, alone?â
youâve been with him long enough to know this is just the start of one of his playful roleplays, so of course you instantly know your line, âi have a boyfriend, actually.â
âoh, really? is he here too? can he fight?â his voice drops lower with every step you take towards him, with the last words coming out as a growl as you stand in front of him, looking up into his eyes.
you snort, âyouâre so dumb.â
he stays in character, raising his eyebrows, âno, tell me. can he?â
you hum thoughtfully, pursuing your lips as you pretend to consider, your eyes wandering before settling on his again, âyes. heâll break your nose.â
he chuckles, feigning surprise, âgod, he sounds tough.â
âhe is.â
with an arm snaking around your waist, he pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear, nose tickling your lobe, and he whispers, âbut i just want you so bad, young lady. donât tell him, hm?â
his mouth is on yours next, molding together in a sickeningly sweet, lingering kiss, and you let him find your tongue with his own, your front arching against his.
with your arms wrapped around his neck, you part slightly, your eyes jumping on every corner of his face. your voice is thick with pure love, âdo you feel better, big boy?â
jeongguk smiles, presses it against your forehead, âso much better, thanks to you. i love you.â
âi love you more,â you momentarily lose yourself in his expression, and you have to blink harshly to pull yourself out of the daze before you fall too deeply into your emotions and start waxing poetic, letting your heart run as wild as the love in your veins.
you move from his hold, busying yourself with setting the small table in your kitchen, grabbing the usual pink glass for yourself and the yellow one for him.
he chose them himself a long ago, said pink reminded him of the way you blushed at his every action, and the yellow symbolized a sunflower always turning toward its sun, because, âthatâs how iâve felt ever since i met you.â
as you arrange the glasses, you almost forget what you were about to ask, but the faint ring of your phone from the bedroom reminds you, âis your phone still off? coach has been calling me.â
his brows knit slightly, betraying his otherwise calm demeanor, but he doesn't meet your eyes, focusing instead on plating the soup. âcan weâ not talk about it? just for tonight?â
a small gasp escapes you at his quiet plea, and you rush to his side to help him, taking the plates from him and placing them gently on the table, your words hushed, âof course, baby. i was just worried you might want to hear from him. i donât care about all of that, i only care about you.â
a sheepish smile breaks through his composure, his front teeth worrying at his lip piercing. he looks up at you, lets himself be coddled by the warmth of your gaze, and he sounds just as timid as he looks, âhm. thatâs what i wanted to hear.â
you shake your head fondly at his vulnerable side, motioning for him to sit with you, âsilly. come, letâs eat, and then we can get some sleep.â
even after swallowing the burning soup, jeongguk still finds a way to tease, nudging your foot under the table with a mischievous grin.
"youâre not getting any sleep tonight," he quips, his voice low with playful intent. you roll your eyes and kick him lightly, making him yelp in exaggerated shock.
it becomes a game of back and forth, his dirty jokes pushing boundaries just enough to make you question if heâs actually serious. thereâs a part of you that selfishly hopes he means it, but the side of you that knows him inside and out knows better.
sex for jeongguk isnât just a casual thing, especially after a night like this. for the two of you, intimacy is more than physicalâ itâs an act of devotion, a way to connect deeply when words canât express everything.
itâs never about distraction or escape, but about grounding one another, the flicker of something real and tender at the core of it.
tucked under the covers, waiting for him after he convinced you he could handle the dishes himself â arguing that picking a movie was just as much work â youâre not surprised by what he says when he finally enters the room.
âbaby⊠i think iâm happy with just cuddles for tonight. that okay with you?â
you break into a big grin, brimming with unspeakable feelings for the man standing at the foot of your bed, for which you spread your arms open, âof course, sweetheart. come here, you big child.â
he doesnât need to be told twice, instantly burrowing himself against the warm sheets, intertwining his limbs with yours. he nestles his head on your chest, sighing contentedly as if heâs found the safest place, âi love you. have i said that already?â
âa million times. and iâm never sick of it.â
âsay it back.â
you snort at the insistence in his tone, words muffled by the fabric of your shirt, and your fingers unconsciously play with his straight locks as you swing one of your legs around his waist, your voice a whisper above the shuffling, âi love you more.â
he tilts his head up, chin resting on the softness of your breasts, âno, you donât.â
brushing his bangs away from his eyes, you smile fondly, âi do. believe me.â
he huffs in faux protest, narrowing his eyes. but he gives in as quickly as he tried to argue, his cheek settling back to rest just where your heart beats, its steady beat lulling him into calm along with your gentle strokes along his nape.
jeongguk doesnât resist it, doesnât fight your love. accepts it as the purest form of closure he can get for himself, âhm. okay. i love you.â
#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook au#jungkook imagine#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x female reader#jungkook x original character#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x oc#bts x reader#bts smut#bts imagines#bts fic#bts series#bts#đ: the grande series#đ.tgs: ordinary things
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[â°] ⊠LEVI & Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT ⊠900k views
âȘ©ă ă  âă   đžÂ ă ăâ§Â ă ăâș
ê© actor!levi x gn!actor/actress!reader
‷ theyâre called delusional all the time, but your fans just know that leviyn is real!
sfw, fluff, protective levi, mean fans (comments on weight), swearing, unwanted groping (this is mostly happy i swear), violence (levi ofc), use of âbratâ (cliche i know)
a/n: i missed my man. this is the most ideas iâve ever had for this little series lol.
masterlists
from the actor!character series:
actor!toji masterlist
actor!nanami & y/n being a couple
*
ê© first clip
after a decade long run, the successful series of âattack on titanâ had finally come to an end, and behind the scenes interviews of all the cast members were released.
itâs really no surprise that leviâs interview gained the most attention & popularity.
âit was an honour working with such great and talented people for ten years and i look forward to the legacy that this series will leave. i have no regrets about partaking in this show and i will forever feel itâs impact.â
the interviewer lets leviâs meaningful answer marinate for a few moments, before completely ruining the effect with just one question.
âwhich of the cast members will you miss working with the most?â
levi clears his throat, eyes squinting, âi..i will miss working with all of themâŠobviously.â
âitâs y/n though, right? i mean, isnât she your favourite?â
levi blinks at the interviewer behind the camera.
the interview cuts to behind the scene clips of you and levi; of levi grudgingly giving you a piggy back ride, to you surprise kissing him on the cheek and running away while he blushes and scowls, letting you steal his food and to the most recent one, of the last day on set where he finally accepts your request to give him a hug after ten whole years.
levi looks back to the camera, âno. no, i donât have âfavouritesâ.â
ê© second clip
a blurry TMZ clip of you stumbling out of the after party of an awards show (you and levi both left empty handed) with levi by your side, making sure you didnât fall over.
he wears his slacks and his white, button up shirt and his suit jacket appears toâŠbe worn by you?
you walk like a baby deer, babbling and giggling inaudibly in leviâs ear. he just nods at you, only mildly annoyed and focuses on holding onto your waist to make sure you donât topple over.
a patent, black limousine pulls up in front of the both of you and levi opens the back door and helps you in, despite your drunken objections. he guides you in by the top of your head, making sure you donât hit it on the car ceiling and gets in after you before the it drives away.
ê© third clip
you, sasha and connie make a late appearance to an âattack on titanâ cast interview, being more than 20 minutes late (that being all sashaâs fault).
âand- oh, look who finally decided to show up!â exclaimed jean as you and your peers make your late arrival.
the cast cheers and applauds your trio sarcastically, youâre a little embarrassed but connie and sasha revel in the attention, mock bowing and blowing kisses.
you stroll over to where levi sits, with his arms folded and legs crossed.
you look at him.
he looks at you.
âwhat?â he asks in his default mood of annoyance. âthereâs no space here.â
âyeah there is.â you responded, your eyes dropping down to his lap.
levi pauses, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, his face painted with an expression of incredulousness.
and then he sighs in utter exhaustion, giving in and spreading his legs. you smile gleefully, plopping your full weight in his lap.
despite his âannoyanceâ, you both sit like this for the rest of the interview.
and all of your fans are just both so confused and so happy. because they were not prepared for levi, ever so stoic and astute, to just allow you to sit on him and just accept it.
youâre going to make him go grey early.
ê© fourth clip
a fan recording of you and levi attending NY fashion week and just as you both stand up and begin to take your leave, you are stopped a handsome gentleman.
he speaks to you animatedly, and you smile and laugh with him.
levi on the other handâŠis not so friendly.
he simply glares at this random man, unblinking, arms crossed and he seems to be impatient andâŠmaybe a certain other emotion?
the conversation comes to a close. the stranger gives you a small business card and you thank him and say goodbye. the man also waves to levi, but levi simply responds with a stiff nod and walks away with you.
you both walk through the crowd. you turn to him, looking at his face, and you wrap your arm in his one, leaning on you and smiling. he visibly sighs and relaxes, discreetly rubbing your hand with his own.
ê© fifth clip
you and levi are at a new years event, along with other actors and actresses, including the ones from âattack on titanâ.
it is ten minutes before new years, and it is freezing - it is 3°C at most.
you and historia are huddled together, absolutely shaking and teeth chattering in the cold.
thatâs until levi walks towards the two of you and appears to notice your situation.
he shrugs off his long black coat, leaving him in only his suit, and drapes over yourself and historia.
your head whips to where he stands.
levi clearly tells you, âyou shouldâve worn a jacket!â
and you respond, with a wide grin on your face, âseems like i didnât need to.â
historia thanks levi vehemently and you kiss leviâs cheek.
even from metres away, the blush on his cheeks is so very visible.
ê© sixth clip
it is halloween! you enjoy halloween, always posting a costume of yourself on your instagram every year!
this year, you dressed as a cute vampire. your hair was slicked back and you had fake fangs on your canines. you were a doll!
on your story, you post a video of you.
and levi.
you are recording yourself walking and you come up behind levi, shoving your phone in his face so you both are in the frame.
levi rests on the couch with his eyes clothes.
but he is wearing a costume too.
levi never celebrates halloween. let alone wears costumes outside of acting.
how did you convince him to do this?
âleviiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiâŠâ you growl with face menace, grinning wildly.
âhm?â he hums, barely even paying attention to you.
âi vant to vsuck vour vlood vleeeeviiiiiiiiiiiiiâŠâ you chime in jest, opening and closing your mouth to show you fangs.
levi opens one eye, side-eyeing you with immense suspicion. âget away from me.â
âvnoooooooooooooo, vlevvvvvvvvviiii,â you drawl again, opening you mouth an ample amount, and slowly closing in on his neck, âi vant to vsuck vour vblood-â
then his grabbing your hairline and holding you back, causing your eyes to squint and your face to lift.
âare you gonna stop?â he asks. his expression is blank as he scowls.
ânope!â you croak, your voice compromised by the position youâre held in, âvyourr vbloood vvlevvvvvviiiiâŠâ
the video cuts to another.
levi is running away from you, his bat cape flapping behind as you chase him.
the camera moves erratically as you manically cackle, âvgivve me vyour vblood vlevviiiiii! vlet ve vsuck vour vblooddd!â
this game of cat and mouse continues until you pounce on him and the video abruptly ends.
in the end, you get a photo with levi, that he willingly partook in, with you biting his smooth, pale neck.
it is safe to say your fans went crazy that day.
ê© seventh clip
a viral paparazzi clip of you and levi walking out of the set for the movie youâre both working on.
as you walk with levi, an odd man wearing sunglasses comes up behind you and gropes your ass.
you canât help crying out a loud, âhey!â in complete shock that someone would do that so shamelessly in front of so many people.
levi turns to, wondering what happened. you tell him that, âthat manâ touched you inappropriately.
he doesnât even waste any time.
levi storms up to the man, who has the sense to try and walk away, and sucker punches him in the nose.
everyone gasps as the man falls. he clutches his bloody nose, groaning and writhing.
âdisgusting scum.â levi spits at the thing crying on the ground.
cameras flash all around you and levi.
levi guides you to the car, opening the passenger door for you and swiftly getting in the drivers side and speeding away.
while he received mostly support from your fans, he also received backlash for âinciting violenceâ and ânot setting a good exampleâ.
he did not care. in his own words, he would âdo it againâ if he had to.
ê© eighth clip
a fan q&a was held with the cast of âattack on titanâ for the season finale, and fans could ask any questions they wanted!
unfortunately, because they are not interviewers, they lacked the skills usually used by people in media.
and the shame.
after levi answered a question, the host picked out another fan who had their hand raised to ask a question.
âhi, i have a question for ______.â said the fan.
you say hello and then she proceeded to ask, âhow much weight did you gain between seasons 3 and 4?â
your looked shocked at the audacity of her to ask such a question and the fans seem to be in agreement, shouting in surprise and even booing the fan.
the host tells her, âplease, do not ask inappropriate questions to the cast please.â
âhuh? can she not answer questions orâŠ?â
the cast look around awkwardly, glancing at you in concern.
you pick up your microphone to speak. âuh-â
but before you can get a word in, levi is already speaking for you. âcan you ask good questions? orâŠ?â
you choke on your spit, and the crowd cheers and whoops, and your cast members laugh and clap as the rude fan is guided out by security.
âtch, these peopleâŠâ levi curses, âno more shit questions.â
the crowd howls but levi is being dead serious.
the q&a goes on, and levi places his hand on your knee as questions are being answered, seemingly making sure youâre okay. you nod and give him a small smile.
ê© ninth clip
a clip, recorded by you, of levi working out for his role in a new thriller film.
you wolf whistle, panning down leviâs shirtless body as he does pull ups, âooh la laaaa!â
levi grunts, dropping down and wiping his head with a cloth. âstop that.â
âan attractive male in his natural habitat - the gym. the attractive male-â
levi snatches the phone from you.
you whine and he points the camera at you, turning the table on you. you are also clothed in gym wear.
âarenât you supposed to be exercising too? you brat.â
âuhmmmâŠiâm here for uhhhâŠmoral support?â
cut to you barbell squatting, with levi spotting you from behind.
âugh! levi i canât anymore! itâs too heavy!â
âare you serious? itâs ten kilograms.â
âyeah thatâs heavy!â
âfive more and then youâre done.â
you grunt but power through, doing all five before throwing the barbell onto the floor.
âimpressive,â he compliments, âfor you.â
you collapse to the floor and give a thumps up to the camera and say, âhe loves me, really.â
levi huffs.
he does not deny it though.
*
a/n: i miss him so much i need him back and animated again :â)))
#actor!levi#levi x reader#levi x you#levi x y/n#levi x self insert#levi fluff#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x y/n#levi ackerman x gn!reader#levi ackerman x gender neutral reader#levi x gender neutral reader#levi ackerman fluff#levi fanfiction#levi ackerman fanfiction#levi fic
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đđźđ đźđ«đź; đđźđđ€đŹ đČđšđź đđ đđąđ§đŹđ đđĄđ đ°đąđ§đđšđ° đ°đąđđĄ đŹđđđšđ«đź đ°đđđđĄđąđ§đ đđ§đ đŠđđŹđđźđ«đđđđąđ§đ
đ°đđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ: voyeurism, assistant/sugarbaby!reader, playfully mean(to you)!sugardaddy!ceo!geto, ceo!gojo, taped on vibrator, small butt plug (no anal), edging, window sex, masturbation, squirting on the window, control orgasm, calling suguru sir, service sub!reader, bdsm hints, light begging, dirty talking, heavy praise/light degradation, hints at sharing you, spanking, biting
đ«đđȘđźđđŹđđđ đđČ đđ§đšđ§: Suguru squeezing the ass of his cute little assistant. He loves hearing her soft squeal when he does it
Oreo: Iâve been fighting a headache trying to get this one done because I have a night need to be fucked like a whore against a window while gojo watches
Suguru looks past Jin, rock hard beneath the desk. Youâre beautiful struggling to maintain your composure. Holding up his hand Jin falls quiet. âBring me a glass of water.â Smirking when you stiffly stand, clenching your thighs together.
Clenching your thighs together, keeping eyes casted down, clasping your hands in your lap. Biting your lip, fighting for your life not to moan when the vibrator taped to your clit pulses faster.
Youâre so close to cumming on Suguruâs sofa with one of his employees explaining their concerns. Soaking your underwear, your cunt clenching nothing. Your ass squeezing the small training plug.
âYes sir!â Your voice is shaking, your whole body burning, cunt throbbing and tingling from the immense pleasure.
Turning away from Jinâs curious gaze. âAs you were saying Mr. Jin.â The vibrations stop, the reprieve is welcoming and disappointing. Your sensitive clit twitches from getting worked up so close and the sudden lack of stimulation.
Opening the fully stocked mini fridge built into the wall, pulling out the bottle of water and a chilled glass from the cabinet beside. The toy vibrates on your soft clit, slapping your hand over your mouth, fighting yourself not to moan.
Ignoring Jinâs drawl, purely focusing on maintaining your slipping composure and not spilling the water. Throwing the plastic bottle into the recycle, grabbing the chilled glass of water, trembling. Getting lost in the sweet pleasure, it vanishes.
Taking a deep breath turning around to face your sugar daddy and his employee. Suguru isnât looking at you, smiling at Jin. âThank you for bringing that to my attention, Iâll see to it thatâs taken care of, please see yourself out.â Pressing the button under his desk for the doors to slide open.
Jin nods his head, clasping his hands behind his back. âYes sir, thank you.â Stiffly walking past Jin, grateful he finally leaving. Going around Suguruâs desk. Holding out his glass of water, his warm thick fingers brush yourâs.
Pushing himself away from the desk. His thick bulge in his black dress pants, âGood girl, thank you for the water.â Squeezing a handful of your soft ass, you softly gasp, glancing over to where Jin stands on the elevator peering with wide eyes through the closing office doors.
Suguru massages your cheek. the toy vibrate on your soft clit. âDonât cum, not yet.â Standing up, grabbing your jaw, gently prying you mouth open with his thumb. Taking a sip and spitting it into your mouth. âSwallow, but you canât cum yet.â
Setting the cup down, unbutton your dress shirt. âPlease! I donât know how much longer I cannnn!â Clenching your trembling thighs together, knees buckling, legs weak. You grab onto Suguruâs hard, thick bicep.
Getting off on his massive height, unable to stop thinking of fat cock he has for you underneath his pants. Stroking his cock through his pants. âA little bit longer, youâre so hot squirming, struggling not to cum just to make me happy.â Tugging your skirt down, for you to step out of.
His phone buzzes, whining when Suguru answers, âNasty pervert, Iâll fuck her against the glass for you to watch.â Putting his phone on speaker on the desk. âShe such a slut she will get off on seeing you stroke your cock to her.â Slipping your shirt off, unclasping your bra, he canât get them off fast enough.
Tears trickle down your face, Suguru wipes away one with his thumb. âAw my sweet little slut is crying cause she canât cum yet.â Turning to face the window, grabbing your leg lifting showing Satoru your sloppy wet cunt.
Begging, crying, cunt dripping. âIâm gonna! Please! I canât hold back! Itâs too much.â Grinding your hips back, Suguruâs hard cock pressed against your lower back.
Satoru unzips his pants, dropping them with his underwear, sitting down, squirting lube into his hand. âFuck she sound hot whining like that.â Suguru turns you to face the window, lifting your legs giving Satoru standing in large window his office a perfect view.
âCum!â Thick warm cum splashes into the window, trickling onto the ground. Trying to close your legs, shifting trying to get away from the intense stimulation.
Groaning in admiration, gliding two this fingers into you. âNnn so warm n wet, perfect little cunt for my fat cock to ruin.â Taking the toy off your clit, tugging on the jewel of the butt plugged.
âYouâve been wearing this for two hours letâs give your ass a break. Mm fuck I canât wait till I can fuck her into a gabbing cum filled mess.â Gliding the plug out of your ass, setting it on his desk.
Suguru crouches, slapping your ass biting your cheek, enticing soft whimpers. Holding onto your hip to steady you. Your head is fuzzy, legs wobbly, you havenât cummed that hard before. You want more. âWanna cum again, please sir take care of my needy cunt.â Spreading your legs, and bending over when he dips his head between, lovingly kissing your soft cunt.
Gliding his finger in, getting off on how your soft cunt take his fingers. âYou been such a good slut for me, Iâll take such good care of your sweet tight cunt for you. After you can sit in my lap during the meeting. Then we can go home, have a candle lit dinner.â Biting your ass, sucking roughly groaning, pumping his finger faster.
Satoruâs breathy moans coming through the phone. His jerking his cock faster, sliding his hand through his soft white hair, tugging. His mouth dropping open, checks flushing pink. He slows his pace, smirking and winking at you. âYouâre such a beautiful dirty whore getting off on watching me jerk off while he plays with your cunt.â
Smiling at Satoru, âIâm a pretty dirty whore who likes it getting fucked in front of you.â Suguru stands up, squeezing your ass, sliding his hand up your waist. Gently playing with your nipple, biting your shoulder. Tilting your head to the side, he trails kisses up
Satoru pleads âLet her press her beautiful slutty ass on the glass. Lemme see your sloppy beautiful cunt and sweet ass.â Looking up at Suguru for his approval, he spins you around on your high heels.
Unbuttoning his shirt, slipping it off. Suguru is beautiful with his thick pecs, sculpted abs, broad shoulders slim waist and fat cock that rests on thick balls. âLet him see whatâs gonna be taking good care of my fat cock.â Admiring your sugar daddy, bending over gliding your fingers into your needy cunt.
You want to cum again despite squirting. Suguru and Satoru always bring out an insatiable lust within you. Youâd proudly be their cum stuffed whore.
Buzzing the front desk, âDonât send or allow any calls through until I say otherwise, take a message if itâs urgent thank you.â Pressing your ass to the cold glass, shivering. Playing with your nipples, soft rubbing them, moaning the moment he lets the button go.
Suguru groans, you love the erotic way he sounds. âNnn fuck send her over when youâre done, I wanna turn. You can put her plug back in. Wanna see her pretty ass stuffed mmm, gonna cover her soft cheeks in cum.â Grabbing Suguruâs cock, when he comes close, kissing his head.
He grabs your hair roughly turning you around, pinning your tits to the glass, keeping your ass out. Lining his fat, veiny cock up, you spread your legs apart pushing your hips back. âIf she can walk sure, but you canât fuck her ass not yet. Im taking her training slow, no reason not to savor perfection.â Spitting on your ass, smearing it with his thumb, gliding it in.
Keeping a firm grasp on your ass, groaning in pure relief. âNothing else better than being inside you. Nnn making my legs go weak, youâre too perfect.â Grabbing your wrist, holding it behind your back. Offering your other wrist for him to hold together with one large hand.
Oreo creampieâs m.list
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#geto smut#geto x reader#geto suguru x you#geto x you#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru#suguru geto#getou smut#getou x reader#getou suguru smut#getou suguru x reader#getou suguru#geto x y/n#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut
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lava lamp
in which spencer reid comforts gn!reader when you find yourself contending with a sudden bout of depression
fluff
warnings/tags: established relationship, reader has depression, task paralysis, spencer reid can't cure your depression but he sure can't make it worse
a/n: this is most definitely not inspired by the pink lava lamp in my room. it has nothing to do with that. extremely short and sweet, WC <800
The room is awash in hot pink.Â
Itâs interrupted only by dark shadows cutting lines across the floor and the furniture. The blinds are down over the window so moonlight canât seep inâassuming the moon is in fact out now. Youâre not actually sure. You donât know how long youâve been lying here like this, studying the soft glow of the lava lamp where it sits on the bedside table, watching the blobs of orange separate and conjoin and float around each other like theyâre dancing in the suspending liquid.Â
The sound of keys in the front door, of it scuffing against the floor as it opens and squeaking shut and the lock clicking back into place, inspire the tiniest spark of joy inside you. For a few moments you remain in solitudeâlistening to the sounds of the kitchen sink running as Spencer washes his hands, a glass being set down on the counter, the soft rustle of fabric on fabric as he takes his coat off. Maybe you have really excellent hearing. Maybe youâre just imagining the sounds because youâre so familiar with his post-work rituals.Â
Finally the bedroom door opens, catching your legs in a triangle of yellow light, and sounds ceaseâSpencer is surely standing in the doorway, surely surprised to find you sprawled on the bed, staring vacantly at the lamp youâd purchased last winter from an antique shop.Â
The door closes again, encasing you in an amnion of pink warmth once more.Â
âHi,â he says, quietly enough.Â
You donât respond. Not for a lack of affection. Just for a lack of energy, really. Spencer is used to you, and he doesnât let your heavy mood stop him from moving to sit on the mattress behind you. The heat of his hand is a comforting weight as it finds your back, slowly rubbing up and down. There is always so much love in the way he touches you.Â
âHowâre you feeling, honey?â
A quiet moment passes in which youâre gathering the energy to speak for the first time in hours. Spencer doesnât rush you.Â
âTired.â
More quiet.Â
âWhat kind of tired?â
But he knows what kind of tired.Â
âI tried to fold laundry,â you mumble, lacking even the gumption to move your mouth much as you speak. You tap the laundry basket with your toe where it sits on the foot of the bed. The laundry inside remains very much unfolded.Â
âI can handle it.â
If you had any more vitality youâd say, you shouldnât have to, you just got home from a full dayâs work, Iâll take care of itâbut the truth is, you canât handle it and you canât take care of anythingânot even yourself. All you can do is watch orange bubbles float in radioactive pink liquid.Â
âI donât know what happened,â you whisper. A few tears take you by surprise as they roll down over the bridge of your nose, though your face remains stony. âIâve been here for hours.â
Spencerâs hand remains steadfast on your back and you wish you could express how grateful you are for it and for him and for his gentle voice, always.Â
âMaybe nothing happened. Maybe some days are just hard.â
You sniffle. The answer is unsatisfying, but so is life, sometimes. And you know heâs right.Â
âYeah.â
Time passes. A few minutes, maybe, of listening to your own ears ring, to the haunting frequency of the old building, of the upstairs neighbors walking around and snatches of music coming from cars on the streets below.Â
âYou know, I sometimes have days where I just want to lie down and stare at the lava lamp too. I think a lot of people feel that way.â
You turn your head just slightly and finally see him, cast in the soft lambent glow, smiling down at you in that unconscious, serene way, that is little more than a curve of his lip. Just seeing his face makes something in your chest unclench. Â
âReally?â
The soft arch of his smile flickers momentarily wider.Â
âMetaphorically speaking.â
Heâs perfect.Â
You reach over your own waist to grab his hand, and he interlocks your fingers, running his thumb over yours.Â
Spencer knows it, but you tell him anyway. âI love you.â
He leans down and kisses you, so softly itâs like medicine.Â
You know it, but Spencer says it back anyway, sweetly against your lips, heads pressed together. âI love you.â
And you much prefer this view to the lava lamp.Â
#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic
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đœà§ threesome with gojo and getođ á°
kinktober day 20: porn star fucking!!!
âż geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru
âż warnings: oral (fem & male receiving, fingering, ass play, basically couch porn casting
"So you want to be a pornstar," Geto states, sitting in his chair in front of you. You feel your body sweating all over, and you try not to wrinkle your dress more than it already is by holding the edges with your fist. Geto watches your every move and every expression on your face. You decided to try signing up for his porn agency when you lost your job, and porn is always a good way to get money. However, the first mistake you made was wearing a short flower dress to your interview, making Geto smirk as soon as he saw you in the door.
"Tell me about your sex life, y/n," he tells you, and your cheeks turn red. Of course, he would ask a question like this for the type of job you're trying to get.
"Um, I don't have⊠coitus that often," you say, looking down at your lap. Geto's eyebrows rise at the word coitus, you're certainly inexperienced, but he sees something for you. You're not too young to be naive about doing something like this, but he suspects you're not fit for a job like this.
"And your favorite position?" he asks, making you stutter. The door swings open, and you feel relieved that it stopped you from answering. Your face falls fast when you see the person in the door. You've seen him in the porn videos Geto makes, more specifically his dick. He flashes you a wide smile, his blue eyes blinking at you.
"Are you new here, love?" his question catches you off guard, making both men chuckle.
"Yeah, she's new," Geto smirks at Gojo, making him whistle. Satoru is used to a different type of women in this industry. He has seen loads of slutty girl ready to spread their legs, but you seem pretty innocent.
"Let me introduce you two," Geto says, standing up from his desk and walking in front of you.
"This is Satoru, Satoru this is y/n. We will be interviewing her today."
The mysterious white haired guy eyes you from head to toe, making you blush. You know exactly who he is, you've seen those porn videos, and you've seen that dick.
"Could you undress for us?" Geto asks as he reaches behind him to grab his camera. Gojo's eyes are still on you, and he takes in every inch of your body as you take off every garment. The last piece of clothing falls on the floor, and you stand naked in front of them.
"Is everything alright?" you ask them, your voice shaking. Suguru reaches his hand out, grabbing your boob to rub your nipple.
"Yeah, everything's fine. you are just so tiny." Geto's words should hurt you, but you feel so turned on right now, you don't care.
"Let's start with the interview," Satoru says, rubbing your shoulder, "Kiss me."
You blush, but you kiss him on the mouth. His tongue slips into your mouth right away, his hand creeping to grab your ass.
Geto focuses on the two of you while he massages your other cheek.
"Look at that tiny cunnie." geto coos at you, swiping his hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit, his thumb circling your clit. It's a simple touch, but it makes you moan out loud, which makes the men shoot a lot between each other.
"You're so responsive, that's good," Gojo says, rubbing from your arms down to your butt. He carefully examines every part of your body.
"Can you lie on the couch?" he asks, guiding you to the leather couch in the corner. You sit down on it, looking around the room. Gojo sits down next to you, throwing his hand around your shoulders and rubbing them. Geto stands in front of the both of you, the camera still on.
"Can you open your legs for us?" the question is so dirty, but Gojo's expression is welcoming. You shuffle so that your back is against the back of the couch, opening your legs.
"Oh fuck yes." Geto groans, getting on his knee to get a better look at your opening.
"Did you plan on eating her out?" Gojo asks Suguru, but he shakes his head. A normal interview consists of fucking and sucking cock, you've never seen someone get eaten out. Gojo smirks, "Well, I have to taste her."
Gojo's tongue dives right into your folds. He teases your clit with his fingers, tongue-swiping your juices. You hear Suguru sigh, "Satoru, this wasn't scheduled." But he doesn't stop him from pleasuring you. He gets next to you, pulling his pants down his legs. Your face bumps right into his hard-on, and he rubs it on your face.
"Open mouth." Geto says, sliding his cock right into your warm mouth. He lets you pleasure him at your pace, but it's hard with Gojo eating you out like a master.
"How am I supposed to know if she's good?" Geto whines, thrusting into your mouth. Your throat closes around his cock, and you choke due to his length. Meanwhile, Gojo pushes one of his fingers inside you, the other teasing your rim. You never had someone play with both of your holes at the same time, and it sure is overwhelming. With each swipe of Gojo's tongue and thrust of Geto's cock, you feel yourself nearing your orgasm.
"Are you gonna cum, sweetheart?" Gojo smirks when your hips stutter to meet his tongue. Geto is close to releasing too, even though your technique isn't the best, he adores how beautiful you look with his cock in your mouth. A wave of pleasure hits you, and you cum, hips rising and falling because of the stimulation. Geto follows shortly after, painting your face with his cum. Gojo smiles at the scene before him, scooping the cum on his finger to put it inside his mouth.
"I'm sorry, y/n," Geto says, looking sad, "We can't hire someone like you."
From the corner of your eye, you can see Gojo's eyes go wide with disbelief.
"I'm not hiring you, but come to our apartment tomorrow afternoon. We'll see what we can do with you in private."
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU
summary. december has come and that is only mean one thing; gojoâs birthday. for the last few years, you have been celebrating his birthday together with geto and this year wasnât any differentâ and gojo getting more and more spoiled than the last
warning. established relationship, fluff, crack, geto give gojo a kiss, gojo fell asleep while sucking your nipple.
p.s please donât come at me, ik this is all over the place and didnât focus entirely on gojoâ s birthday and just basically a mess. but i hope it is still enjoyable and DONâT COME AT ME FOR MAKING GEGO GAY A BITTTT đ
11:30 pm.
you return the smile, your heart skipping a beat as you slowly close the door behind you, careful not to make a sound. the room feels cozy, a perfect contrast to the late hour, and you make your way deeper into the room, your footsteps light and purposeful.
you quietly peek through the door of your boyfriendsâ study room, the faint glow of the desk lamp casting a warm light across the room. geto is sitting at his desk, surrounded by papers and books, his brow slightly furrowed as he focuses on his work. but as soon as he feels your presence, he lifts his head, a soft smile curling on his lips when his eyes meet yours.
geto tilts his head slightly, still smiling, as he asks softly, âis satoru asleep?â
you shake your head, the hint of excitement buzzing through you like electricity. you move toward him, your hand reaching out to touch his shoulder lightly. the warmth of his body under your fingertips makes your heart race even faster, and geto chuckles, clearly noticing the way your energy shifts.
âi can feel that excitement radiating off of you,â he says with a teasing grin, his voice low and amused.
you laugh softly, not bothering to hide your enthusiasm. âitâs his birthday,â you reply, your gaze locking with his as you step even closer. getoâs smile widens, and for a moment, all the work and the world outside of this room disappear, leaving just the two of you.
you chuckle, your smile still wide, the excitement in your chest barely contained. at midnight, it would be gojoâs birthday, and you and geto had spent the past few days preparing a surprise that you knew would leave him grinning from ear to ear. you couldnât wait to see his reaction when the clock struck twelve, when the world would shift from an ordinary moment into one filled with laughter, warmth, and a little bit of mischief. the thought of gojoâs face lighting up made your heart flutter with anticipation.
the soft hum of the clock ticking away in the background heightens the anticipation in the room, the silence between you and geto charged with unspoken excitement. you glance at geto, your gaze playful, leaning slightly against the desk where heâs still sitting while holding his hand. âso, did you get him any presents?â you ask, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you had already planned your own surprise, of course, but you were curious to know if geto had something up his sleeve as well.
geto grins as he lifts your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, his knuckles brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of tingles. he brings your intertwined hands up to his mouth, the corners of his lips curled up in a playful smile. âmaybe i did,â he answers, his voice barely a low rumble, âbut if i tell you now, itâll ruin the surprise.â
gently, he pulls you closer until youâre standing between his parted legs, the heat of his body reaching you like a wave, making your cheeks flush.
getoâs smile softens as he gazes up at you, his dark eyes warm and filled with quiet affection. his free hand moves up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the touch soft and deliberate. âyouâre already blushing,â he murmurs, his voice low and laced with amused affection, his thumb lazily tracing the curve of your cheek. the warmth of his touch sends a subtle shiver down your spine, and the teasing lilt in his tone makes it clear heâs enjoying the little game. the way his eyes flicker with a hint of mischief has your heart skipping a beat.
âcare to share what you got for satoru?â he adds, his gaze holding yours, as though daring you to spill your secret.
you hum softly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. instead, you tilt your head, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. ânothing expensive,â you say casually, your voice calm, though the glimmer in your eyes reveals your own teasing nature. âbut itâs something i know heâll love.â your free hand moves up to touch getoâs cheek, your fingertips grazing the soft line of his jaw. the intimacy of the moment makes the room feel even cozier, as if itâs just the two of you in the entire world.
getoâs smirk only widens at your response, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and interest. his lips press against your palm, his breath warm against your skin, before he lets go and leans back in his chair, his gaze holding yours with a playful intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.
âyouâre being awfully vague,â he replies, his voice carrying a teasing note. âbut color me intrigued.â you chuckle softly, shaking your head at his theatrics, the warmth of his lips lingering on your palm making your cheeks flush. âyouâll just have to wait and see,â you reply, your tone light and teasing, mirroring his playful energy.
âdo you want to help me finish preparing the cake?â you ask, your tone light but expectant. your fingers linger on his skin for just a moment longer before you pull away, watching as his smirk deepens ever so slightly. he looks into your eyes, studying you for a moment, before he nods. âsure. lead the way.â reaching out, you grab his hand and give it a gentle tug, urging him to stand. âcome on, no time to waste.â
getoâs smirk widens as he lets you pull him up, his movements fluid and unhurried as though heâs savoring every second of this moment. his fingers intertwine with yours, his touch firm yet gentle, and he follows you willingly as you lead him toward the door.
the two of you move in perfect sync, the soft shuffle of your footsteps barely audible as you open the door and slip out into the dimly lit hallway. you glance back at geto, your free hand pressing a finger to your lips in a silent signal, a mischievous glint in your eyes. he mirrors the gesture with an exaggerated nod, his smirk never faltering while he sling his arm over your shoulder.
you walk side by side, the quiet of the house amplifying the shared anticipation between you. every creak of the floorboards feels like a secret whispered into the night, but neither of you speaks, determined not to let gojo catch on while you walk outside the house to the other part of the house.
you and geto slip out quietly, the crisp night air brushing against your skin as you make your way to the storage house. the faint crunch of gravel beneath your feet is the only sound breaking the silence. geto walks beside you, his hand on yours still, glancing around with his usual calm demeanor.
outside, tucked neatly in the backyard, thereâs a tiny house serving as your storage area. itâs nothing fancy, but itâs essentialâespecially when youâre living with two foodie boyfriends. with their insatiable appetites, stocking up on food feels less like grocery shopping and more like preparing for a natural disaster. shelves line the walls, stacked with snacks, ingredients, and an impressive variety of meats and frozen goods. itâs a foodieâs paradise, and youâre the mastermind behind keeping it organized.
once inside, the cool air from the storage hits you, and you let out a soft breath. the place smells faintly of frozen goods and freshly stocked produce. without hesitation, you head to the large freezer in the corner, flipping the lid open with practiced ease.
inside, nestled carefully on the top shelf, is a cake already decorated in blue and whiteâa color scheme you knew gojo would love. his name is written elegantly across the top in neat, swirling letters, the whole design simple yet striking. you reach in, pulling the cake out with care, your hands steady as you place it on the counter nearby.
âthere it is,â you say softly, smiling as you look down at the cake, a swell of pride and anticipation building in your chest. âbut we canât eat this tho, we will get diabetes if we have this,â you jokingly said, hiding the truth beneath.
it was a chocolate cake, rich and decadent, the kind of cake that could practically give an entire family diabetes just by looking at it. but thatâs exactly how gojo liked it. being the sweet tooth he was, anything less than over-the-top sweetness wouldnât have cut it. youâd made sure every layer, from the soft, moist cake to the thick, sugary frosting, was as sweet as he could possibly want.
getoâs eyes flicker down to the cake, appreciating the intricate design youâve gone through. he can almost taste the sweetness just by looking at it, knowing full well how indulgent gojo is when it comes to his sweet tooth. a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he glances back up at you, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze.
âyeah, that looks⊠intense,â he muses, his voice laced with a hint of dry humor. âyouâre going to single-handedly give him sugar shock before he even blows out the candles.â
you chuckle softly, carefully holding the cake in your hands, its weight a reminder of the effort youâd put into making it perfect for gojo. âdonât worry,â you reply, glancing at geto with a playful smile. âi bought another cakeâone that we can actually eat without feeling like we need to drink a gallon of water afterward. itâs not too sweet, just how you like it.â
geto raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. âthoughtful as always,â he murmurs, his tone carrying a mix of teasing and genuine appreciation. the two of you step out of the storage house and into the cool night air, you make your way back toward the main house. the quiet sounds of the night surround youâcrickets chirping faintly in the distance, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.
you glance at geto from the corner of your eye, noticing the relaxed expression on his face. you know heâs not much of a sweet tooth, and the thought of him sitting through a cake this sugary just for gojoâs sake makes you smile to yourself. âi figured youâd appreciate not being forced to eat something that could make your teeth ache,â you say lightly, the warmth in your voice evident.
geto lets out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head slightly at your thoughtfulness. your consideration for both him and gojo is something he loves about you, the way you balance everyoneâs needs and desires with such ease.
âyeah, not a fan of toothache,â he responds, his tone laced with sarcasm. âyou really do think of everything.â the warm night air wraps around you like a gentle embrace, adding to the comforting atmosphere between you and geto. his eyes flicker to the cake in your hands, then back to your face, his gaze softening ever so slightly.
the two of you finally settle in the living room, which youâve transformed into a cozy little birthday setup. streamers in shades of blue and white hang from the ceiling, balloons tied to chairs, and the coffee table is adorned with small snacks and drinks. itâs simple, intimate, but perfect for a midnight celebration.
geto is standing on a chair, fiddling with the decorations, trying to secure the âhappy birthdayâ banner to the wall. meanwhile, you sit cross-legged on the floor, leaning over the coffee table as you carefully place tiny candles on the chocolate cake. with a steady hand, you fix the â27â number candles right in the center, stepping back slightly to admire your handiwork.
âperfect,â you mutter, mostly to yourself.
ânot bad,â geto comments from above, glancing over his shoulder to check on your progress. the two of you are so engrossed in your tasks that neither notices the soft padding of footsteps approaching. suddenly, a groggy voice cuts through the quiet.
âwhat are you two doing?â
the sound startles you both, your head whipping around just in time to see gojo standing in the doorway. heâs in his striped blue pajamas, his hair messy from sleep, rubbing at his stomach as he stares at you both with a confused and sleepy expression.
âoh shit,â geto mutters, his hand slipping as he tries to finish hanging the banner. the next thing you know, heâs losing his balance, stumbling off the chair and landing on the floor with a thud.
âwhatâŠ?â gojoâs voice trails off as he blinks at the scene, his half-asleep brain trying to process the chaos in front of him. you and geto exchange a panicked look, the kind of unspoken communication born from years of knowing each other. without missing a beat, you grab the confetti cannon sitting nearby.
âhappy birthday!â you yell, firing the cannon into the air, a shower of colorful confetti raining down over the room. geto, now laying on the floor, throws his arms up weakly. âhappy birthday, satoru,â he echoes, his tone exasperated but amused.
gojoâs expression transforms from sleepy confusion to surprised delight as heâs showered with confetti. the messy display of celebration seems to snap him fully awake, his eyes blinking rapidly, as if trying to process whatâs happening.
he takes a few steps further into the room, a wide grin spreading across his face as he takes in the decorations, the cake, and the two of you. âyou guys didnât need to do all this,â he says, his voice still rough from sleep but filled with an endearing happiness.
you roll your eyes playfully at his words, the corners of your lips tugging into a fond smile. âshut up,â you say lightly, reaching out to grab his hand. before he can protest further, you tug him down to the floor beside you, his lanky frame folding awkwardly as he sits cross-legged. âitâs your birthday,â you add, your tone softer now, though thereâs still a teasing edge to it. âof course, we had to. what kind of people would we be if we didnât?â
gojo looks at you, his grin widening, his pale blue eyes glimmering with gratitude. âyouâre really too good to me, you know that?â before you can respond, geto finally joins you, settling on the floor across from gojo with an exaggerated sigh. âdonât let it go to your head,â he quips, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt before leaning back on his hands.
âoh, too late,â gojo shoots back, his grin turning smug as he glances between the two of you. âi already feel like a king.â you and geto exchange a knowing look, and you canât help but laugh, the warmth of the moment washing over you. the three of you sitting together, surrounded by the simple yet thoughtful decorations, feels perfectâintimate and just right for celebrating someone as extra as gojo.
âwell, your highness,â you say, nudging him with your shoulder. âbetter blow out those candles before the wax melts all over the cake and donât forget to make a wish.â
geto, ever the calm and collected one, pulls out a highlighter from his pocket and he flicks the flame to life and leans over the cake, carefully lighting the tiny candles once more. the soft glow bathes the room in a warm, golden hue, casting gentle shadows on the walls.
as the last candle is lit, the room is bathed in a soft, warm glow, and for a moment, gojo just stares at the flicker of the flames, a look of contemplation on his face. finally, with a wide smile, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and leans forward, blowing out the candles in one firm exhale. the three of you sit in the quiet that follows, a comfortable silence filled with anticipation. gojoâs eyes slowly open, and he turns to look at you and geto, his expression a mix of happiness and satisfaction.
âso, what did you wish for?â you ask, breaking the silence and leaning forward to study his face, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. gojoâs smile widens, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. ânow now,â he teases, his tone lighthearted. âif i tell you, it wonât come true.â
you roll your eyes affectionately at his cheeky response, a playful scoff escaping your lips. âugh, youâre awful,â you mutter, but the smile on your face betrays your true feelings. you shift closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a tender embrace. âhappy birthday, baby,â you murmur, your voice soft and filled with love, your lips brushing lightly against his temple.
gojo lets out a quiet hum, a content sound that is almost a purr, leaning into your touch. his eyes close briefly as your lips touch his temple, enjoying the comfort and warmth of your embrace. âthank you,â he responds, his voice softer now, filled with genuine gratitude. he turns slightly, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer until youâre practically sitting in his lap, your bodies pressed together. geto, watching the intimate exchange, grins to himself, his fingers fiddling with the cake wrapper idly.
gojo buries his face into the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin as he mutters a soft, âhowâd i get so lucky?â you let out a quiet chuckle, your hand moving to card through his messy hair, smoothing it back affectionately.
getoâs eyes flicker from you both, to the cake, then back again. he breaks the silence this time, leaning forward slightly. âso, are we going to eat that cake or just stare at it all night?â he suggests, the hint of impatience evident in his tone. gojo lifts his head just enough to glare at geto, a mock pout on his face. ârude,â he mutters, the complaint lacking any real heat. âiâm enjoying the moment, okay? canât you be romantic?â
âpatience, baby,â you say, shooting a half-amused, half-exasperated look in his direction. your fingers continue to run through gojoâs hair while he resting his chin against your collarbone as he looks at geto. âyeah, âbabyâ, patience.â he echoes, his tone carrying a hint of amusement, then adds, âa whole two minutes has passed, isnât that a new record for you?â gojoâs words are muffled against your shoulder, his lips moving in a half-formed smirk. he untangles himself from you reluctantly. geto just huff along with eyes-rolling but didnât say anything.
even so, you stand to grab another cake, a chorus of crackles and pops sound from your body, the result of sitting in one position for too long. geto lets out a low whistle, amused by the sounds. âjeez, old much?â he teases.
âshut it,â you retorted with a chuckle, kicking his leg gently before waltz to the kitchen.
geto mock-winces at your kick, rubbing his leg dramatically. he groans, but thereâs a smirk on his face, showing heâs not really hurt. gojo laughs at getoâs playacting, leaning back against the sofa, arms stretched lazily above his head. âyouâre such a baby,â he says, rolling his eyes. while youâre in the kitchen, geto turns his attention back to gojo. âso,â he begins, the teasing lilt in his voice evident, âany deep thoughts on turning twenty-seven?â
gojo hums thoughtfully for a moment, considering the question. âwell,â he starts, a sly smile pulling up the corners of his lips, âi guess iâm officially the oldest amongst the three of us now.â geto snorts, amused by the answer. âyeah, a real sage,â he says sarcastically. âand what wisdom have you gained as our senior?â
gojo pretends to give the question serious consideration before replying, âwell, i can confidently say iâve gained more years of knowing how to deal with you two brats.â geto lets out a laugh, throwing a nearby cushion at gojo in jest. âoh please, youâre only a year older than me and two than her,â he retorts, the playful eye roll only emphasizing his point. âdonât get cocky.â
gojo catches the cushion with ease, tossing it back at geto with an exaggerated shrug. âwhat can i say?â he says, his tone light and carefree. âiâm just naturally wiser than all of you.â he looks towards the kitchen, the sound of you moving around carrying into the living room. âthough,â he muses, his gaze returning to geto, âiâll admit, having a couple of years on her does give me certain benefits.â
geto raises an eyebrow, curious despite himself. âoh, yeah? like what?â
gojoâs smirk widens, his voice suddenly taking on a suggestive edge. âletâs just say, a couple extra years gives me a bit more experience in certain areas.â he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, a lewd implication hanging in the air. geto canât help but make a face, part amusement, part disgust.
just as geto opens his mouth to retort, your voice cuts through their bickering. âcanât leave you two alone for five minutes without fighting,â you say, shaking your head in mock exasperation as you step back into the living room. in your hands is a simple strawberry cheesecake, balanced on top of a stack of plastic plates.
both of them pause, turning to look at you. gojoâs expression lights up instantly as his eyes land on the cheesecake. âtwo cakes this year? youâre really going all out, baby,â he says, practically beaming with happiness.
you chuckle softly, settling onto the floor beside him. placing the cake down next to his birthday cake, you start handing out the plates. âitâs for all of us,â you explain with a gentle smile. âyou know how suguâ isnât really into overly sweet things, so i got another cake he could enjoy too.â
you turn to gojo, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. âbut donât worry, love, itâs still sweet enough for you to enjoy,â gojo blinks, his grin softening into something quieter, his gaze lingering on you. beside him, geto doesnât say a word but glances at the second cake and then back at you, a flicker of unspoken gratitude in his expression.
neither of them comments on your gesture, but the way they look at youâsilent, warm, and full of appreciationâspeaks volumes. while you busily placing the plastic plates in forks in front of them, oblivious to their fond gazes, they exchange a brief glance, a shared understanding passing between them.
you turn back to gojo after placing the last plate down, noticing his expression. his blue eyes are locked on you, a quiet softness lingering in his gaze that catches you off guard. raising your eyebrows, you tilt your head slightly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. âcome on, baby, cut your cake,â you say with a soft chuckle, nudging him gently to break the moment.
gojo snaps out of his contemplative daze, the soft smile still lingering on his lips. âoh, right,â he mutters, almost sheepish, as if caught staring. he picks up the knife, carefully cutting into the cake. the first slice is perfectly shaped, and he picks it up, holding it out to you on the plate. âyou have the first slice,â he offers, his tone affectionate.
geto, watching this interaction, simply shakes his head, a smirk on his face. âsap,â he mutters under his breath.
you send a playful glare in getoâs direction, narrowing your eyes just enough to feign annoyance despite the smile. turning back to gojo, whoâs completely unfazed by getoâs comment, you find him grinning at you, his usual boyish charm on full display. his focus is entirely on you as he holds out the plate, his eyes soft and filled with affection.
âaww, thank you, baby,â you say warmly, accepting the plate from his hands. leaning closer, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer to show your appreciation.
gojoâs skin tingles under your touch, the gentle kiss sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. he leans into your touch slightly, enjoying the closeness of your body. he takes a slice of cake for himself, then turns to geto, offering him a plate with a look of exaggerated patience. âdo you want a slice, suguru? or do you plan on just watching us eat all night?â
geto rolls his eyes, but a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. âhow magnanimous of you,â he teases, taking the plate. as you all begin eating, the atmosphere in the room is warm and comfortable. the sound of quiet chatter, the scraping of forks against plates, and occasional soft laughter fills the space.
gojo, happily devouring his cake, steals not-so-subtle glances at you between bites. heâs so entranced by these moments of simple joyâthe soft sound of your voice, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. geto, meanwhile, eats his slice at a more leisurely pace, occasionally making comments that earn him a scoff or a nudge of the foot from you.
after the cake, the three of you sat comfortably on the floor in a cozy circle, surrounded by colorful wrapping paper and boxes of presents, most of them clearly marked as being from you. gojo, sitting in the middle like a spoiled king, eagerly opened his gifts one by one, his expressions ranging from childlike glee to smug satisfaction with each unwrapped item.
each gift he opened seemed to spark a new round of commentaryâdesigner clothes he immediately draped over himself like a model, a sleek pair of sunglasses he tried on indoors, and a book he had casually mentioned wanting months ago.
the room filled with his dramatic exclamations. âoh, this is perfect! just what i needed!â he said, holding up an expensive watch that sparkled under the dim lighting. he turned to you with a playful smirk. âyou really know how to spoil me, donât you?â
you leaned on your elbow, resting your chin in your hand, watching him with an amused grin. âitâs not from me,â you replied, your tone was laced with confusion before looking at geto whoâs lounge comfortably on his side eating a frozen frosting from the cake.
gojo paused mid-action, his smile faltering for a moment. he turned to look at geto in disbelief, watching as the man casually licked frosting off his finger, the picture of innocence. âwait,â gojo said, his voice laced with mock indignation. âthis oneâs from you?â
geto simply chuckled, unbothered by gojoâs reaction. âwhat, did you think just because she remembered everything you wanted but i wouldnât?â he replied lightly.
gojo huffed dramatically, still struggling to get over the audacity of getoâs statement. he glanced at you, as if silently asking for confirmation, but you only smirked, enjoying the situation too much to chime in. âalright,â he finally said, turning back to geto. âi guess i underestimated you. didnât think youâd be such a romantic,â he teased. âand since when do you buy me really expensive watches?â
geto raises an eyebrow at gojoâs remark, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. shifting slightly, he moves to sit up straighter, his posture exuding a calm confidence. âsince ever,â he replies smoothly, his tone carrying a teasing edge. âwhat do you mean by that question, huh? questioning my generosity now?â
before gojo can respond, geto leans in without warning, his movements fluid and deliberate. he places a quick peck on gojoâs lips, the lingering sweetness of frosting making the moment both tender and mischievous.
gojo blinks, his indignant expression faltering as he processes the gesture, his cheeks tinging pink. but before he can fully recover, geto reaches out and gives the back of his head a light smack, a satisfied grin on his face. âhappy birthday, dumbass,â geto says casually, leaning back with an air of smug victory.
you just chuckle softly, shaking your head with a fond smile, not saying a word. itâs a scene youâve come to expect from themâtheir playful banter, the way they poke fun at each other while still showing the warmth and affection they share.
you watch as gojo, still a little flustered from the unexpected kiss and playful smack, rubs the back of his head with a mock pout. he glances at geto, clearly trying to muster up a response, but his expression softens, unable to hold onto the annoyance for too long.
getoâs smug smile widened as he saw how flustered gojo was, his cheeks still tinged with a blush that contrasted with his usual cool demeanor. âaww, whatâs the matter, satoru? canât find words?â geto teased, his tone light but amused. âis the great satoru gojo being rendered speechless by one little kiss?â
gojo, still recovering, shoots a glare at geto. âshut up,â he snaps, although thereâs no real heat in his voice. âit just took me off guard, thatâs all.â gojo lets out a huff of mock indignation, still rubbing the back of his head from the playful slap. but despite his fake annoyance, thereâs a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
âdonât think this makes you any less of a jerk,â he grumbles, shooting a half-hearted glare in getoâs direction. âbut thanks.â
he glances over at you, and his expression softens even more, his competitive spirit momentarily forgotten in your presence. he reaches out, tugging you closer, and pulls you into his lap once more. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his chin resting on your shoulder. the competitive tension between him and geto seems to ease slightly, his focus now shifting towards you and the comfort of having you in his embrace.
âyou know,â he says, his voice muffled against your shoulder, âyou should consider getting me a present too sometime.â
you glance over your shoulder, meeting gojoâs gaze with a raised eyebrow. the playful tone in your voice contrasts the serious look on his face as you ask, âwhat do you mean? iâve given you more gifts than suguâ has.â you chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. âisnât this enough?â you ask, motioning to the cake, the presents, and the warmth of the moment.
gojo hums, his arms wrapping around your waist a little tighter. he rests his chin on your shoulder, enjoying the comfort of your presence. âi know, i know,â he grumbles, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. âbut yours are always so thoughtful. theyâre nice, really, iâm not complaining.â he lets out a small sigh, the playful tension from before now completely faded. he leans into you, seeking comfort in the warmth of your body. âiâm just saying⊠itâs nice to be spoilt sometimes, you know?
you roll your eyes playfully, muttering under your breath, âof course you do, baby. always need the grand gestures.â deep down, you know heâs just saying it for the sake of it. heâs more than grateful for the gifts you and geto have put together for him, even if his words donât always match his actions. but you also know he enjoys the attention, the drama of the moment, and thatâs part of the charm.
as you glance around at the scattered gifts, your gaze lands on the large box tucked away in the corner. a mischievous smile plays at the corner of your lips as you shift in gojoâs lap to grab it, your fingers brushing against the glossy paper. âyouâre going to love this one,â you tease, lifting the box so he can see it clearly. âiâve been waiting a long time to get everything together for this.â
gojo perks up as you move to grab the large box, his curiosity piqued by the hint of mischief in your eyes. he watches you move with anticipation, his arm still wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. âoh?â he says, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. âyouâre really teasing me now.â
he eyes the large box, sizing it up, his mind racing with possibilities. âalright, color me intrigued. what could it be? iâm almost scared,â he jokes, although itâs clear that heâs more excited than anything. âcome on, give me a hint,â he prompts, leaning closer to the box. âjust a small hint. come on, baby,â he whines, giving you a light tug, trying to get you to reveal whatâs in the box.
geto, watching the interaction, lets out a snort. âchill, sstoru,â he teases. âyouâre like a child waiting for christmas.â you chuckle softly, enjoying the moment of suspense as both gojo and geto eye the box with varying degrees of curiosity. you shift slightly in gojo's lap, holding the box with both hands and teasing them further.
âopen it,â you say with a grin, âit might be something youâll love the most, and suguâ will probably hate it the most.â gojoâs interest is officially piqued, his eyes widening at your words. âoh, really now?â he says, his smirk growing wider. âif itâs something thatâll annoy suguru more than anything, iâm really invested now.â
geto, hearing this, lets out an exaggerated sigh. âgreat, just my luck,â he mutters, feigning annoyance but thereâs a hint of anticipation in his eyes. you chuckle along with gojo, sharing a quiet moment of excitement, but neither of you says anything. gojo is clearly more excited than ever. he reaches out to grab the box from you, eager to see whatâs inside as he tears through the wrapping paper. when the box is finally revealed, his eyes immediately widen, and a gasp of excitement escapes his lips. inside is a collection of limited edition digimon figuresâexactly the ones heâs been searching for to complete his collection.
âNO WAY!â gojo exclaims, his voice practically vibrating with joy as he pulls each figure from the box, inspecting it like itâs a rare treasure. his usual confident demeanor fades into pure, childlike excitement. âi've been looking for these for so long! you actually got them!â
you smile at his reaction, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction knowing you got him something heâd truly love. but before you can say anything, geto groans from beside you. his expression is a mix of amusement and frustration, clearly not as thrilled as gojo.
inside the box is a collection of rare digimon figures, each meticulously designed and sought after by collectors. gojoâs obsession with digimon is no secret. heâs been a fan since childhood, hooked on the seriesâ themes of friendship, bravery, and adventure. over the years, his love for it has evolved into an all-out passion, bordering on obsession.
he owns an entire wall in the house dedicated to digimon memorabiliaâaction figures, collectible cards, posters, and even a custom light-up display for his prized items. itâs his pride and joy, though much to getoâs dismay, it comes with endless commentary about the lore, characters, and rare finds heâs stumbled upon.
meanwhile, geto groans loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose as though preparing for the inevitable. âfantastic,â he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm. âjust what we neededâmore digimon figures. because clearly, we didnât have enough already.â
you glance over at geto with a smirk. âcome on, baby, heâs just happy,â you tease, watching gojo continue to examine his new figures, practically glowing. âitâs his birthday, let him be.â geto lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. âtrust me, i know how happy he is," he mutters, side-eyeing gojo, whoâs still gushing over the figures. âiâve seen him in this state before.â
âlook at this detail!â gojo gushes, holding up one of the figures as if it were the crown jewel of his collection, completely ignored the comments coming from his boyfriendâs mouth. âthis one is from the limited anniversary set! do you know how long iâve been trying to track this down? baby, youâre amazing!â he squeals, donât even bother to throw neither you nor geto a glance.
geto leans back on his hands, watching as gojo meticulously admire each figure with a mixture of amusement and a hint of annoyance. âi just donât get whatâs so special about these silly little creatures,â he gripes. âtheyâre just fictional monsters, for godâs sake.â
âand donât even get me started on the amount of space they take up in our living room,â geto continues, rolling his eyes. ânot to mention the constant rambling about the lore and the different evolutions of each one. it's like a never-ending lecture.â
gojo, however, still is too engrossed in his figures to pay any attention to getoâs grumbling. heâs completely captivated by the intricate details of each figure, his eyes sparkling like a child at christmas. gojo holds up another figure, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of wonder and excitement. âand this one! this oneâs been out of production for years! iâve heard rumors about a secret stash of them, but i never thought iâd actually get my hands on one!â
geto rolls his eyes, groaning again. âoh, joy. more limited edition figures. just what his collection needsâmore clutter.â but gojo is too distracted by his new acquisition to notice getoâs sarcasm. he gingerly places the figure next to the others, his gaze switching between them.
âthese are going to look amazing on the wall,â he exclaims, his voice filled with a childlike glee thatâs both adorable and slightly amusing. he finally looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with gratitude. âthank you so much, baby. this is the best present anyone has ever got me.â
he gives you a tight hug, holding you close against his chest. geto, on the other hand, just shakes his head, seemingly resigned to the fact that the house is now going to become a digimon museum.
you smile warmly, wrapping your arms around gojo as he hugs you tightly. his enthusiasm is infectious, and seeing him this happy makes all the effort worth it. âno problem, baby,â you say softly, leaning into his embrace. âiâm glad you love the gifts. i knew youâd appreciate them.â
gojoâs hold on you tightens, his excitement practically radiating off him. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his voice muffled as he mutters his thanks again.
meanwhile, geto watches the scene with a mixture of affection and mock annoyance. he tries to maintain his grumpy facade, but thereâs a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he witnesses the happy moment between you and gojo. âyeah, yeah,â he finally mutters, unable to hold back his own smile. âjust make sure you still have enough room for our pictures on the wall.â
gojo enthusiastically rushes off to his collection, already placing the new figures in their proper spots. his excitement is palpable, and you canât help but smile at how much he appreciates the gift. you turn to geto, noticing his playful pout as he watches the scene unfold. âcome on, donât get pouty,â you tease, pulling your knees to your chest, little, soft smile on your face. âheâs happy. you can handle a few days of digimon rambling. itâs worth it to see him this excited.â
geto lets out an exaggerated sigh, feigning annoyance, but the corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile.
âi guess youâre right,â he admits grudgingly. âitâs just... so many figures. and they take up so much room. but seeing him this happy...â he pauses, his expression softening slightly. âit does make it a little less annoying, i suppose.â he leans back, propping himself up on one elbow. âbut iâm holding you accountable for this, you know. iâm going to pin all the digi-rants on you.â
you hum thoughtfully, a soft smile curving your lips as you reach over and gently touch getoâs cheek. his skin is warm beneath your fingers, and you give him a tender look, the corners of your eyes crinkling with affection.
âyou know,â you say softly, your voice laced with a teasing warmth, âwe can always take turns if you get too tired to listen. iâm more than happy to listen to him talk my ear off about his collection for hours if it means keeping that grin on his face.â
geto holds your gaze, his expression softening even further under your touch. he leans into your palm, his eyes never straying from yours. âyou really know how to charm a guy, donât you?â he mutters, a hint of mirth in his voice. âoffering to take up the mantle of the digimon expert just to spare me the endless talks about evolutions and rare finds.â
he grins, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips. âi think iâm starting to see why that idiot adores you so much. youâre a saint, you know that?â your eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, a teasing smile curling at your lips. âoh? all these years living together and dating, and youâre only just now thinking he adores me? i thought that was already a given, suguâ,â you say, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.
geto laughs softly, rolling his eyes in feigned annoyance. âoh, shut up,â he teases back, his tone light and full of affection. âi know he adores you, alright. heâs not exactly subtle about it, considering heâs never had eyes for anyone but you.â
he shifts, propping himself up a little more as he continues, his voice quieter, more intimate. âbut thereâs a difference between knowing and really seeing it firsthand. watching you two interact, it just... hits a different way, yâknow?â you shift closer to him, your movements fluid and unhurried as you place a hand on the floor beside his thigh for balance. geto watches you quietly, his sharp features softening as you settle near him.
without a word, he curls up, resting his head on your thigh like itâs the most natural thing in the world. his long, jet-black hair spills over your lap, and your free hand instinctively moves to comb through it, your fingers threading gently through the silky strands. âwhat about you?â you ask softly, your voice laced with playful curiosity. âdo you not adore me yet?â
geto lets out a low hum, almost a purr, as your fingers run through his hair. his eyes flutter closed, and his lips curve into a soft smile that mirrors the tenderness in your touch. he turns his face towards you, nuzzling into the warmth of your thigh, his voice muffled slightly. âoh, no, of course not,â he mutters, tone dripping with affectionate sarcasm. âi only mildly tolerate you. nothing to worry about.â
you let out an exaggerated gasp, your lips curving into a playful pout as you glance down at him. ârudeee,â you whine, drawing out the word dramatically. to emphasize your mock displeasure, you give his hair a gentle tugânot enough to hurt, but just enough to earn his attention.
geto lets out a low chuckle as you tug his hair, his eyes shooting open to meet your faux-offended gaze. he looks up at you with a lazy grin, a flicker of boyish playfulness in his eyes. âwhat can i say, baby,â he teases, his voice dripping with mock innocence. âthatâs just how i am. iâm a harsh, cold-hearted bastard.â
you let out an affectionate scoff, your fingers resuming their gentle combing through his hair. âyeah, a real hardass,â you mutter under your breath, a fond smile on your lips as you let your touch wander lower, tracing the line of his jaw.
geto lets out another soft hum, arching into your touch like a cat seeking affection. his gaze remains fixed on you as your hand drifts down, tracing the line of his jaw. his eyes darken slightly under your touch, and the hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
he reaches up, catching your hand in his as you trail along his jaw, his fingers intertwining with yours. he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. âthatâs rightâ he confirms, his voice a little huskier than before. âiâm the hardest of asses. definitely hard all over.â
you roll your eyes playfully as you pinch getoâs cheek, a mischievous grin curling on your lips. geto lets out a faux-offended grumble as you pinch his cheek, but the corners of his lips twitch, betraying his amusement. âpervert,â you tease with a soft laugh, watching his reaction. his words definitely arenât helping his case, but you canât help but enjoy how he responds to your touch.
you turn your attention toward gojo, your smile softens. heâs completely absorbed in his task, rearranging his figures with such care and enthusiasm that you canât help but find it endearing. his mutterings under his breath about which figure goes where, as if each decision is a matter of great importance, makes you chuckle softly to yourself. you donât say anything, just watching him as he moves figures around the shelf, humming in satisfaction when one looks just right.
geto watches you watch gojo, his expression shifting to a look of amused tenderness. he lets out a small huff, a mixture of feigned impatience and affectionate fondness. âlook at how obsessed he is,â he comments, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of teasing as he nods towards gojo. he leans back against your leg, his head resting comfortably on your thigh. âyou sure you know what you got yourself into with him?â
gojo groans in mock exhaustion as he turns away from the shelf, leaving his figurine arrangements for later. he strides back into the living room, shaking his head in feigned frustration. âugh, i canât keep doing this right now,â he says, stretching his arms dramatically. âtoo tired to rearrange a whole thing. weâll continue later, alright?â
before you even have time to respond, gojoâs already making his way toward you, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. with a swift movement, he collapses beside you on the floor, wrapping his arms around your body without warning, pulling you into his chest. the sudden shift in weight catches you off guard, and you both tumble backward onto the soft carpet, landing in a heap of limbs and laughter.
you let out a small, surprised gasp as gojoâs full weight presses you down, but you canât help but laugh too. âreally, baby?â you tease, trying to push him off, but his arms are locked around you, not giving you any space to move. âyouâre impossible.â
âshh,â he murmurs, grinning like a child who just got away with something. âyouâre just too comfy, i couldnât resist.â his voice is low, playful, and warm, a complete contrast to his usual cocky tone. his leg shifts, draping over your thigh, effectively trapping you in place. but itâs not just any placementâhis leg happens to nudge against getoâs head, the accidental collision causing geto to lift his gaze from where heâs sitting nearby.
geto lets out a soft grunt as gojoâs leg bumps against his head, his expression one of exaggerated annoyance. âwatch where youâre putting your limbs, idiot,â he mutters, swatting gojo's leg away.
he glances up at the two of you, the sight of you trapped beneath gojoâs arms evoking a range of emotions from him. on the one hand, heâs mildly entertained by the sight of you struggling to push gojo off. but on the other, his eyes narrow as he sees how quickly gojo has taken possession of your body.
he lets out a short cough, drawing your and gojoâs attention. he lifts his head from your lap, the earlier softness in his eyes replaced by a hint of possessiveness as he looks at you both. âalright, you oversized monkey, get off her,â he mutters, his tone laced with mock irritation. âyouâre crushing her.â
gojo laughs, his arms still wrapped firmly around you. âiâm not crushing her,â he retorts defensively, snuggling even closer to you. âsheâs fine, see? sheâs not complaining.â he looks down at you, mischief sparkling in his eyes. âright, baby? youâre not complaining.â
you let out a long, exaggerated sigh, your eyes fluttering half-lidded as you glance up at gojo. the lazy, fed-up expression on your face is clear, gojo, seeing your expression canât help the small, amused chuckle that follows. âyeah, not complaining,â you murmur dryly, your voice thick with playful sarcasm. âreally comfortable, totally.â
you shift slightly, your hands resting on his arms, but you make no real attempt to push him off. thereâs a part of you that secretly enjoys these moments of closeness, even if gojoâs over-the-top antics are a bit much sometimes.
gojo grins down at you, his arms tightening around you. he knows youâre only pretending to be annoyed, and his smile only widens at your dry remark. âsee? i knew you were enjoying yourself,â he teases with a wink. he nuzzles your cheek affectionately, his breath warm on your skin. âyou know you canât resist being wrapped up in my arms.â
meanwhile, geto watches from the side, observing the interaction between you and gojo. his expression is a mixture of affectionate annoyance and a hint of possessiveness before he shifts to lay on your other side.
he props himself up on his side, resting his head on his elbow. his free hand finds its way to your hair, his fingers gently running through the strands. he watches the two of you with a hint of annoyance, before leaning in and planting a gentle kiss on your shoulder. itâs a subtle move, not intended to get either of your attention, but a simple act of affection nonetheless.
he then turns his gaze towards gojo, his tone still carrying a hint of his earlier possessiveness. âi swear, youâre like a damn octopus. always has to be clinging onto something.â gojo chuckles, not even bothering to hide his grin at getoâs comment. âwhat can i say? i just canât resist snuggling up to my favorite people,â he replies, his voice carefree.
he tightens his arms around you again, nuzzling his face into your neck. âbesides, sheâs just too comfortable not to cling to.â geto lets out another scoff, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement. âyouâre just obsessed,â he retorts, rolling his eyes slightly.
you roll your eyes, already feeling the familiar tension between the two of them building up. with a soft sigh, you lift your hands to give both of them a gentle tap on their arms, urging them to stop. âstop fighting, you two,â you murmur with a playful edge to your voice, though thereâs a hint of genuine weariness beneath it. you shift just slightly to make yourself more comfortable between them, trying to ease the situation as you rest your head back against gojoâs chest.
both geto and gojo instantly quiet when you speak up, their expressions shifting from their playful bickering to a softer look as they turn their attention towards you. gojo then chuckles lightly, his arms loosening their grip around you slightly. âsorry, baby,â he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head affectionately.
geto lets out a quiet sigh, his expression softening as well. he reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and tender. you hum softly, feeling the warmth of their attention settle around you like a cozy blanket. you shift slightly, carefully maneuvering so youâre facing gojo now, your eyes meeting his with a gentle smile. the playful tone from before has faded, replaced with something more genuine.
âso, what do you think?â you ask, your voice soft but curious, âdid you like how we did your birthday this year?â you watch his face closely, noticing the way his expression softens when you address him directly. his eyes glimmer with affection, a subtle smile tugging at his lips as he considers your question.
gojo lets out a soft hum, his eyes never leaving yours as he processes your question. he can tell immediately what your question really meansâitâs not just about the party itself, but about the time and effort youâve put into making his day special.
he reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender and affectionate. âof course i did, baby,â he murmurs, his voice full of warmth. âyou always make sure my birthday is amazing⊠and itâs not just the presents or the party, yâknow?â
he continues, his tone growing quieter but more sincere. âitâs the way you make me feel⊠like the luckiest guy in the world. itâs the little things you doâthe little detailsâthat show me how much you care.â he presses a light kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you again, drawing you closer. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, taking a slow, deep breath.
geto watches the exchange between you and gojo, his gaze softening as he hears gojoâs heartfelt words. he can see the genuine affection in gojoâs eyes, the way his voice carries so much sincerity. a small, tender smile crosses his lips as he quietly leans down, his hand gently resting on gojoâs head.
he places a soft kiss on the top of gojoâs head, his voice low and warm. âglad you liked it,â geto murmurs, his words laced with a quiet fondness despite their earlier bickering. the feeling of getoâs lips on his head makes gojo shiver slightly, a pleasant warmth spreading through him at the affectionate gesture. he lets out a low hum, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.
geto pauses for a moment, just taking in the atmosphere around them, the closeness that feels so natural and comforting. âitâs nice to see you so happy,â he adds, his voice soft but unmistakably filled with a warmth that only the two of you could draw out of him.
gojo lifts his head, turning slightly so he can see geto over your shoulder. he meets getoâs gaze, his own expression softening further. âiâm happy because i have you both,â he murmurs, a hint of vulnerability slipping into his voice. he reaches out, gently taking ahold of getoâs hand with his free hand.
gojo gently intertwines his fingers with getoâs, a subtle but significant gestureâan affirmation that despite their playful banter and competition, their connection runs deep. he looks between you and geto, his expression turning a tender shade of fond. âi mean it, you know,â he adds, his voice still quiet and sincere. âi wouldnât trade this for anything. not even a million dollars.â
you chuckle softly, the sound warm and full of affection as you watch your two boyfriends holding hands, the image almost comical after the playful bickering that just took place. âlook at you two,â you tease lightly, a fond smile spreading across your face. âacting like actual boyfriends for once, huh? thought youâd be at each other's throats forever.â
you glance between them, your expression softening as you add, âitâs nice to finally see you both acting how youâre supposed toâlike how a boyfriend does.â your voice carries a touch of playfulness, but the warmth behind it is unmistakable.
hearing your comment, they both let out exaggerated groans, pulling away from you in perfect unison as though theyâd rehearsed it. gojo dramatically flops backward, flinging his arms over his head, while geto sits up straighter, muttering under his breath. âugh, disgusting,â geto grumbles, wiping his hand on his pants like heâs trying to rid himself of the lingering touch. âsatoruâs germs,â he adds, shooting the white-haired sorcerer a mock glare.
gojo laughs heartily, completely unfazed by getoâs exaggerated reaction. âhey, donât act like you donât secretly enjoy touching me,â he retorts with a cocky smirk, sitting back up. geto rolls his eyes, wrinkling his nose in exaggerated disgust. âplease. as if i would ever actually enjoy touching your insufferable ass.â he shoots a playful glare at gojo before turning his gaze back towards you. âbesides, i have better taste.â
you let out a dramatic sigh, still sprawled on the floor as you lift a hand to wipe your face, muttering under your breath, âi shouldâve just kept my mouth shut...â
the three of you linger on the floor for what feels like hours, laughter and quiet conversation filling the living room as the clock ticks closer to four in the morning. the warmth of the night slowly gives way to the first hints of exhaustion, and you finally decide itâs time to call it a day.
âalright,â you announce, sitting up and stretching your arms over your head with a groan. âletâs wrap this up before we all pass out on the floor.â geto nods, standing and gathering the empty plates and glasses. âiâll clean up in the kitchen,â he offers, already heading towards the sink. âdonât forget to move his gifts before he ends up leaving them on the couch for a week.â
you smirk at his remark, nudging gojo with your foot. âcome on, birthday boy. letâs get your mountain of presents into the bedroom.â gojo grins, dramatically flopping onto his back. âugh, but iâm so tired,â he whines, reaching a hand out to you like heâs expecting you to drag him. âcarry me?â rolling your eyes, you grab his wrist and tug, forcing him to sit up. âiâm not your personal chauffeur. now, get up and help me.â
he chuckles, finally relenting as he gets to his feet. together, the two of you start gathering the assortment of wrapped boxes and bags from the living room. gojo occasionally pauses to make overly dramatic guesses about whatâs inside each gift, earning a scoff or an eyeroll from you every time. âiâm telling you,â he says, holding up a box and shaking it lightly, âthis oneâs definitely another figure. i can feel it in my soul.â
âif you break it before even opening it, itâs on you,â you warn, taking the box from his hands and adding it to the pile youâre carrying. he pouts slightly as you snatch the box away from him, jokingly protesting your strict rule. âcome on, youâre no fun,â he teases, putting on an exaggerated display of disappointment. âwhatâs the point of guessing if i canât even shake them a little?â
you roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your expression as you continue gathering the gifts. he chuckles at your reaction, grabbing another heavy box and hoisting it up with a dramatic groan. âthis oneâs heavy,â he notes, holding it up for you to see.
âwhat do you think it is?â he asks, feigning ignorance as he shakes the box again, this time more carefully. âhopefully not a boulder or something.â as you both make your way towards the bedroom, gojo continues his running commentary on each gift, making outlandish guesses as he goes. his enthusiasm is contagious, and you find it hard to stay mad at his dramatics, even as you struggle to carry the growing pile of presents.
âiâm calling it now,â he declares, holding a particularly large and oddly shaped gift in his hand with a knowing smirk. âthis oneâs definitely something... kinky.â he gives the box another shake, grinning at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. âam i right?â
you raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch him with mild amusement. âreally?â you ask, your tone dripping with mock disbelief as you snatch the box from his hands. âneither me nor suguâ give you any sex toys or anything like that.â
his expression shifts to faux disbelief as you take the box away, a playful pout forming on his lips. ârude,â he teases, pretending to be deeply offended. he scratches his chin, clearly not ready to give up his theory just yet. âwell, you might not have, but suguâ definitely would,â he says confidently, his tone only half joking.
you roll your eyes at his antics, your hands busy arranging the pile of gifts. âif he does, thereâs no way iâm letting you two use it on me,â you reply smoothly, your tone dry but laced with amusement.
gojo pouts again, mock disappointment clearly on his face. âaww, but it would be so much fun,â he whines, putting on a show of desperation. âdonât you trust me?â he gives you a puppy-dog look, widening his eyes and sticking out his bottom lip. âitâs my birthday, after all... and what better way to celebrate than with a little... experimentation?â he adds, his voice low and suggestive, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
he steps closer, his body now within inches of yours. he reaches out and gently tugs at the fabric of your shirt, his touch almost taunting. âcâmon..â he murmurs, his voice soft and persuasive, âwouldnât it be fun to try something new for once?â
you canât help but chuckle at his over-the-top display, half-tempted to give in to his charms despite your earlier protests. ânice try,â you reply, smirking slightly. âyouâre not getting anything kinky from me, birthday boy, no matter how cute you act.â
gojoâs pouting increases, his expression now taking on a slightly more determined edge. âoh, come on,â he pleads, his grip on your shirt tightening just slightly. he leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he speaks right into your ear. âdonât you want to surprise me with something special?â he teases, his breath warm on your skin. âafter all, itâs my birthday, and iâve been such a good boy...â
he presses a light kiss just below your earlobe, his lips trailing down your neck in a way thatâs both affectionate and slightly suggestive. âwe could try something fun⊠something weâve never done beforeâŠâ he murmurs in between kisses, his tone both persuasive and almost pleading. âjust this onceâŠ? pretty please?â
you wrap your arms around his shoulder, pulling him closer as you rest your cheek against the top of his head. his breath hitches for a moment, and you can feel the faintest smile against your neck. âi thought you said you were tired,â you murmur softly, your tone teasing but warm.
he lifts his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a sheepish look. âwell, i was,â he responds, his voice slightly sheepish. âbut then you mentioned the idea of kinky toys, and suddenly iâm feeling much more energized.â he grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. âbesides, what better way to end my perfect birthday than with some late-night fun?â
you roll your eyes, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. âfor the record,â you say, your tone dripping with mock exasperation, âyouâre the one who brought up the kinky toys first. donât try to pin that on me.â your finger starts tracing lazy circles on his shoulder, your touch light and teasing as you tilt your head slightly. âand let me get this straight,â you continue, your voice softening but still laced with playful sarcasm. âall the gifts you got tonight werenât enough? you really need another treat?â
he pouts again, letting out an exaggerated whine as you call him out on his attempt to pin the idea of toys on you. âhey, itâs not my fault that my dirty mind went there first, okay?â he defends, his tone a little defensive but still playful.
he leans into your touch, a low hum escaping his lips as your fingers trace circles on his shoulder. his expression takes on a hint of a cheeky smile as he responds to your question. âwell⊠i never said no to more treats.â
geto strolls into the bedroom, a smirk on his lips as he takes in the scene before him. gojo pouting while wrapped in your arms, the pile of gifts littering the floor.
he leans casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches his boyfriend and girlfriend with a mixture of amusement and affectionâ watches the two of you flirt idly in the middle of the bedroom. his expression is mildly amused, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he interrupts the exchange. âyouâre both aware itâs already close to four in the morning, right?â he points out, his voice both fond and slightly teasing.
you let out a dramatic sigh of relief, leaning slightly toward geto as if heâs your savior. âthank god youâre here,â you say, your tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. âplease, please tell satoru that heâs being completely unreasonable for wanting to do⊠kinky stuff at four in the morning, just because itâs his birthday.â
gojo lets out another overdramatic whine, making it very clear that he finds your plea to geto to take your side very offensive. âhey, iâm not being unreasonable!â he protests, his expression taking on a mix of mock offense and exaggerated hurt. âitâs my birthday, after all. i should be able to get my way for tonight, right?â
geto just raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider as he watches the two of you banter back and forth. heâs obviously enjoying watching you team up against gojo, his gaze shifting between you both with mild amusement. âand donât try to deny it,â gojo adds, turning his pleading puppy eyes from you to geto. âyou would be agreeing with me right now if you werenât so tired.â
geto lets out a low chuckle, his smirk shifting to a subtle smileâone that holds a hint of affectionate indulgence. âi will admit, the thought is a little tempting,â he murmurs, his tone surprisingly contemplative. âbut youâre both clearly exhausted, you especially,â he points at you.
you let out a soft sigh, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. thank god for geto, the voice of reason amidst gojoâs endless antics. you donât say anything, but your subtle glance of gratitude toward geto says enoughâhe always knows how to balance things out.
geto steps closer, placing a hand on his shoulder with a mix of firmness and affection. âcome on,â he says, his tone soft yet persuasive. âsheâs been running around all day, planning and pulling off the entire birthday surprise for you.â he gestures toward the pile of gifts and the remnants of the celebration. âshe deserves some rest. and youâve still got hours of your day left. you can demand whatever you want laterâwhen sheâs had enough sleep.â
gojoâs pout deepens at getoâs words, his expression shifting to a mix of slight frustration and affectionate pleading. he starts to protest, opens his mouth to respond, but the stern edge to getoâs tone stops him in his tracks.
he looks sheepish for a moment, his gaze darting between you and geto before he lets out a sigh of defeat. âugh, fine,â he relents, his voice laced with resignation. âi guess iâll save my demanding for when weâre both more awake.â
he leans against you a little more, his arm wrapping around your waist in a loose but affectionate hold. âiâm holding you two to that, though,â he declares, his voice soft but with a hint of playfulness. âmy birthday might be almost over, but that doesnât mean iâm giving up on my request.â
geto just chuckles, a mixture of fondness and indulgence in his expression. he leans in to give gojo a quick kiss on the forehead before ruffling his hair affectionately. âweâll see what we can do, birthday boy.â
geto notices the way your eyelids are drooping, your head slightly bobbing as you fight to stay awake. he lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to gojo.
âsheâs too tired to argue with you right now,â geto says softly, his tone laced with amusement as he gestures toward your sleep-heavy form. âbut iâll answer for her: weâll think about it later. maybe.â he presses a quick kiss to gojoâs forehead before giving his hair a playful ruffle. âfor now, letâs get you both to bed before one of you collapses.â
with that, geto moves to support you, carefully helping you towards the bed while still keeping an eye on gojo, who pouts but reluctantly starts to follow as well. âcome on, birthday boy,â geto murmurs with a smirk, his tone a mix of affection and exasperation. âtime to call it a night.â
gojo lets out a dramatic sigh, exaggerating the effort of walking in a bid for sympathy. âiâm not even tired,â he protests, his words undermined by another exaggerated yawn. he begrudgingly allows geto to guide him towards the bed, his expression still faintly sulky. âiâm not the one whoâs about to pass out from exhaustion,â he mumbles, glancing over at you with a hint of concern in his eyes.
you climb into bed with a relieved sigh, the comfort of the soft sheets instantly lulling you further into sleepiness. without opening your eyes, you weakly extend your arms toward gojo, your voice soft and muffled as you murmur, âcome here, satoru.â
gojoâs pout melts into a soft, affectionate smile at your sleepy request. he quickly complies, his slight frustration instantly replaced by tenderness. he crawls into bed beside you, his movements gentle and careful as he scoots close to you.
he wraps his arms around your form, holding you close against his chest in a warm embrace. âiâm still mad at you,â he whispers into your ear, his voice soft and warm despite his faux grumbles.
as gojoâs soft grumbles reach your ears, you let out a sleepy mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. âi know,â you say with a tiny sigh, the exhaustion evident in your tone as you snuggle a little deeper into his embrace.
gojo hums in response, clearly pleased despite his earlier protests. without warning, he takes off your shirt, tugging your bra down, nuzzling his face against your breast and taking your nipple into his mouth with a content sigh. âyouâre lucky i love you,â he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled but filled with affection.
geto chuckles softly from behind, shaking his head at gojoâs antics. âyouâre like a clingy puppy, satoru,â he teases lightly as he climbs into bed behind you. he gently pulls the blanket over all three of you, his arm slipping around your waist from behind as he settles in.
gojo just hums in response to getoâs teasing, his actions already making it clear that heâs not paying attention to his boyfriendâs words. he continues to nuzzle against your breast, his lips and tongue working gently against your skin as he lets out a soft, satisfied sound. âsoft,â he murmurs, his words barely audible but the fondness and warmth in his tone obvious.
geto just shakes his head fondly, shifting behind you to wrap his arm around your waist and press a kiss to the back of your shoulder. âdonât bite,â geto warns gojo, his voice a mix of fond admonishment and mild warning. âsheâs already exhausted. donât go making things even more difficult for her to get to sleep.â
despite the warning, thereâs a hint of amusement in his tone as he watches gojoâs antics. he shifts behind you, his arm tightening around your waist while his chin rests on your shoulder. âi swear, youâre worse than a needy puppy today.â gojo lets out a quiet huff, his voice slightly muffled by your chest. âitâs my birthday, iâm allowed to act a little needy,â he protests, his words a blend of stubbornness and endearing petulance.
he lets out another satisfied sigh, his breath warm against your skin as he nuzzles his face against your breast once more. âbesides, sheâs so soft and warm,â he mumbles, his voice laced with affection. âcan you blame me for wanting to snuggle?â
their voices filter through your drowsy haze, you let out a low, sleepy grumble. âshut up, both of you,â you mutter, your words slurred and muffled by exhaustion. without opening your eyes, your arm tightens around gojo, pulling him closer against your breast.
both gojo and geto chuckle at your sleepy protest, their voices soft and affectionate. âsee? she doesnât mind,â gojo responds, his voice muffled by your chest as he lets out another contented sigh. âsheâs just as clingy as i am right now.â
getoâs arm tightens around your waist as he nuzzles his face into the back of your neck. âyou both cling like puppies when youâre tired,â he teases, his tone light and fond.
it wasnât long before your breathing evens out and you drift into a deep sleep, the two of them fall quiet, their playful banter replaced with a shared sense of calm. gojo shifts slightly, careful not to disturb you, his head still resting against your chest. his eyes close as he lets himself relax, his earlier energy finally giving way to exhaustion.
geto look at gojo over your shoulder, and see the man having his lips around your nipple in contentment, acting like a toddler being breastfeed. he lets out a quiet huff, his expression both amused and slightly fond as he watches gojo clinging to you like an over-affectionate pup. he slowly reaches out, taking a gentle hold of gojoâs hair and giving it a light, affectionate tug. âyouâre such a spoiled brat.â he mutters softly, his tone filled with a mix of admonishment and affection.
gojo gives one last soft, contented suckle before finally lifting his head from your breast, his gaze a little hazy from tiredness. he glances up at geto, his expression both sheepish and defiant all at once. âitâs my birthday,â he repeats, playing the birthday card once again, his voice groggy with sleep but still adamant. âiâm allowed to be spoiled today.â
âyouâre spoiled every day, not just your birthday,â geto responds with a roll of his eyes, his voice dripping with affectionate sarcasm. he leans in and gently presses a kiss to the top of gojoâs head, his hand still lightly holding a handful of his fluffy hair. âgo to sleep, you brat.â
gojo lets out a small huff, his expression still a mix of stubborn insistence and exhaustion. âiâm not tired,â he complains in a tone that suggests heâs lying. âi could stay awake all night.â he glances over at you, his gaze shifting to the peaceful expression on your face as you sleep. âi wanna keep watching her,â he mutters, his voice quieter now but still stubbornly resistant. âand suck her,â and then his lips find its way to your nipple once again.
geto lets out another sigh, a mix of fond amusement and mock annoyance in his tone. âyouâre not watching her,â he murmurs with a soft chuckle, his hand gently tugging gojoâs hair again. âyouâre just using her as an excuse to satisfy your clinginess.â
he glances at your sleeping form, his gaze shifting between your face and gojoâs lips latched onto your breast. âlet her rest, for godâs sake. sheâs been up all day, and you know sheâs spent.â
gojo pouts slightly, his expression still stubbornly insistent but visibly affected by exhaustion. âiâll be gentle,â he protests, his voice slightly quieter now. âi just wannaâŠâ he trails off, his words lost as he nuzzles his face against your breast, his lips gently sucking once more. he lets out a soft, drowsy hum, his eyes starting to droop with tiredness. âcanât i justâŠ?â he murmurs against your skin, the last word trailing off into a quiet sigh.
geto lets out another sigh, his expression softening as he watches gojo cuddle up against you. he shakes his head with a touch of affectionate resignation. âfine,â he relents, his voice quieter now but still affectionate. âbe gentle, and let her rest. but if you keep her up all night, i swear iâll tie you up and make you sleep on the sofa.â
gojo looks up at geto with a hint of victory in his gaze, his expression a mix of sleepiness and determination. âiâll be gentle, i promise.â he responds, his voice still a little groggy but with a hint of stubbornness.
he wraps his arms around you, holding you closer against his body while he nuzzles his face against your breast once more. âi just wanna take a little more,â he whispers, his words slurring slightly with tiredness. âjust a little more before i sleep.â
geto rolls his eyes once more, though his expression holds a hint of resigned fondness. âjust a little more,â he repeats in a soft murmur, his words tinged with affectionate sarcasm. he leans in and kisses the top of gojoâs head again before settling back into his comfortable embrace.
he glances at your sleeping form once more, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment before returning to watch gojo sucking your nipple while the man continues to nuzzle against your breast, his lips softly suckling as he holds you closely against him. his movements are slow and drowsy, his tiredness now beginning to overpower his stubborn determination to stay awake.
his eyes start to droop, his breathing growing heavier and slower as he slowly succumbs to exhaustion. he lets out a low hum against your skin, his voice a soft murmur as he finally lets slumber claim him.
âso soft,â he mumbles, his words barely intelligible as he finally drifts off to sleep. geto watches gojoâs movements grow slower and more sleepy, a small, affectionate smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
he waits quietly, observing as gojoâs eyes slowly close and his breathing deepens with sleep. it takes a few moments, but eventually, gojoâs gentle sucking comes to a gradual stop, his body settling into a relaxed position against yours. geto gently runs his fingers through gojoâs hair, his touch gentle and affectionate. âfinally,â he murmurs softly, his voice a mix of exhausted relief and fondness.
he lets out a quiet sigh, his gaze lingering on gojoâs sleeping form for a few moments longer before glancing at your face, observing your peaceful expression as you sleep. after a moment, he shifts his position, carefully moving so that heâs curled around behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist in a loose yet protective hold. he presses a soft, affectionate kiss to the back of your shoulder before letting his eyes close, his own exhaustion finally catching up to him.
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Thawing Out
collab with @ellecdc
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16
cw: modern au, some mature themes (in that it vaguely references past smut), allusion to past abusive dynamics/child abuse
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ⥠2.7k words
Somehow, Siriusâ hand is cold even underneath the covers.Â
Remus wakes with it like a cool weight in the center of his chest, fingers curled slightly with sleep. The other boyâs arm is cast over you, stretched out like Sirius had been determined even in sleep to keep you both close.Â
Youâre considerably warmer, sandwiched between the two boys in the large shirt youâd thrown on to slink into Siriusâ room in the early hours of the morning. Youâre all crammed in tight on Siriusâ bed, chosen because itâs still intact whereas yours is now only a mattress on the floor (Remus hopes you donât need to explain that to anyone in charge of your lodgings). Remusâ leg is only just balanced on the edge of Siriusâ mattress, and Sirius himself is lying with his backside pressed against the wall, cheek resting on the mattress as heâd evidently given up on trying to share the pillow at some point in the night. The sunlight coming in through the window plays prettily over both of your features, and Remusâ chest warms with something likeâwait. Thereâs sunlight. Coming in through the window.Â
He nearly falls out of bed reaching for his phone.Â
You make a soft sighing sound, rolling forward into the space heâs left.Â
âRemusss,â Sirius mumbles. âStop moving.âÂ
âWe need to get up,â says Remus, breathless. His voice croaks with sleep.Â
âHm?âÂ
âUp, up.â He pats both of you on the shoulders before devoting his efforts to Sirius, tugging the sleeping boy upright. Remus has chosen correctly, because you rouse on your own, sitting up on your elbows with a squinty, confused look Remus really wishes he had more time to admire. âWeâre on in forty minutes. Did nobody set alarms?âÂ
You sit all the way up now, eyes going wide. âWe are?âÂ
âDid you not set an alarm?â Sirius asks him. âI was counting on you two for that.âÂ
You shoot out of bed without an answer to your question. âMy phoneâs in my room.â Now that you mention it, Remus thinks he can hear a faint chiming coming from the room next to Siriusâ. These walls must really not be very thick. You look at Remus, very much awake now. âForty minutes?âÂ
âForty minutes,â he confirms, trying to tamp down on his own panic in an effort to avoid exacerbating yours.Â
You nod. âIâm going to stretch. Meet outside in ten?âÂ
âAlright.â Remus gives you a small smile. He doesnât blame you for not thinking to return it as you rush out the door. He turns his attention back to Sirius, still looking half caught in a dream and like he might return to it at any moment. âOi.â Remus gives him a hard look. âI have to go get dressed. Can I trust you not to fall back asleep?âÂ
âYeah, yeah.â Sirius rubs his eyes. âI wonât miss the bloody Olympics.âÂ
âGood,â says Remus. He starts backing towards the door, trying to look stern while silently praying thereâs no one in the hall to see him in his underwear. It had been one thing in the dead of night, but now⊠âTen minutes. Get some stretching in, especially that ankle.âÂ
Sirius seems to come a bit more awake, lips stretching in a grin. âYes, Coach.âÂ
Remus ignores his flirty eyes, though his face feels distinctly pink as he steps out the door, making his way quickly to his own room. Heâd gotten a tad bossy the night before, not harsh but certainly directive, because it had seemed at times that you and Sirius were too timid to take steps by yourselves and damn itâRemus had waited long enough for what was about to happen. So out of impatience and necessity, he took charge. Siriusâ particular enjoyment of that came as a not-unpleasant surprise.Â
Remus dresses quickly, grateful he doesnât need to stretch as you and Sirius do. He fills the time instead by fetching tea and coffee from the dining hall. They donât have any fancy coffee syrups for Sirius, but the spoiled twat will just have to make do. He finds you where you said youâd be exactly ten minutes later, already knocking anxiously on Siriusâ door.Â
âHere you are.â Remus passes you your drink of choice. âHeâll be nearly ready, just give him a moment.âÂ
âIâm coming, Iâm coming,â Sirius gripes from inside, sounding characteristically cheerful after a rushed wake-up.Â
âOh. Thank you.â You take the drink from Remus, looking down at your other hand. He follows your gaze, and youâve a drink carrier of your own. Three drinks identical to the ones Remus has brought.Â
A little laugh tumbles out of him. âWhere did you find the time to get those?âÂ
âDrinks are always my job.â You shrug, smiling a little. You look nervous, tension sewn into the muscles of your shoulders and preventing your happiness from reaching your eyes. Remus has the urge to drag you back into bed and soothe it out of you. âI went first thing. Had to rush my makeup, though.âÂ
Since dragging you to bed doesnât seem particularly timely, Remus settles for an ardent kiss to the top of your head. He takes the other drink carrier from you.Â
âYou look lovely,â he says, meaning it. Your hair is smoothed away from your face, your makeup simple but dramatic, bold sweeps of eyeliner and color across your lids. Underneath your sweats he knows youâll be wearing your costume, and the overall effect is bound to be mesmerizing enough that Remus hopes he can pay attention to your routine. âExtra drinks never hurt anyone.âÂ
âAlright!â Siriusâ door whooshes open. Heâs made up similarly, formidable slashes across his eyes and face set in determination. âLetâs go.âÂ
He takes his coffee with a brief thanks. If the flavor isnât to his liking, he doesnât complain. This ritual, the stretched-taut tension of going to compete, should feel like coming home to Remus, but he canât help but feel a bit odd.Â
If heâd taken the time to imagine what waking up next to you and Sirius would be like, it would probably have gone a bit slower. Soft rousings, lazy kisses, maybe a fond argument about who had to get up to get tea before you all decided to stay in bed just a little while longer. Not, perhaps, quite so much of this rushing, with none of you talking to each other and Remus fighting to keep up as you and Sirius speed-walk towards the competition.Â
Heâs just caught sight of the boards when Sirius stops short. You falter beside him. Both you and Remus trace his gaze back to where two people, a man and a woman, are advancing on him with a steely resoluteness Remus knows but canât place.Â
âSirius Black.â The woman seems to be leading the charge, a stormcloud of dark hair and hateful eyes. âHorrid, ungrateful child!âÂ
Remus blinks. The movement feels slow and dumb. You snap out of your stillness, taking several steps forwardânot just in front of Sirius, but towards the woman.Â
âGet out of here.â Your expression is as fierce as Remus has ever seen it. The womanâs stare catches on you for a moment, a frigid flicker of annoyance, then dismisses you. âWhat makes you think you can justââ
âThousands of pounds on skating lessons,â she seethes, the cold hiss of her voice somehow louder than anyone elseâs. âThe best tutors, private training facilities, and after all that you neglect to invite your own familyââÂ
âHe doesnât have to invite you to anything,â you snarl.Â
Family, thinks Remus. Yesâthe dark hair, the cool, scornful eyesâthis woman is Sirius is his cruelest form. His mother.Â
âSirius doesnât have to go anywhere with you,â you go on, fervent. âYou lost that privilege, both of you, youââ
Sirius never talks about his family. Ever. What does it mean, that theyâre here? The way youâre speaking to themâyou know them, youâve met before, but thereâs certainly no kinship there.Â
ââneed to leave. Leave him aloneââÂ
âQuiet,â Siriusâ mother spits. Her voice is like the twigs of a barren tree rattling against each other in the wind, harsh and grinding.Â
Remus looks at Sirius. He doesnât at first know why, realizing only after he does it that heâs waiting for the other boy to stand up for you. To move his body in front of yours, fiery and protective, the way he always does. But Sirius looks rooted to the spot, his expression frozen and eyes just slightly widened. A weight sinks into Remusâ gut as he remembers what youâd told him the night after he got in Siriusâ face for the first and only time.Â
Itâs not my place to tell you about what his life has been, youâd said, hedging. You can shout at him all you want, but just stay away from physical stuff like that.
Remus looks at Siriusâ mother, all cold fury as she tries to get closer to her son. You, continually stepping into her path, eyes blazing like some goddess of guardianship and inner strength. And Sirius, as passive as Remus has ever seen him. Afraid.Â
âThatâs enough.â Remus hardly recognizes his own voice when it comes out. Itâs harder than any heâs used as your coach, harder even than the one heâs used on himself. Sirius turns to him in surprise, but you keep your eyes on the woman in front of you, unyielding. âNo one,â he says, âno one, regardless of their relations, comes in here and harasses my athletes. You will leave, or you will be escorted out.âÂ
If possible, the womanâs expression grows colder. âHow dare you. My husband and I areââÂ
âYou two,â Remus ignores her for a moment, softening his voice some to address you and Sirius. You turn now, eyes flickering to Sirius first as if to check heâs okay, âgo get ready by the boards. Iâll meet you there in just a moment.âÂ
Thereâs not much left for you to do to get ready, but Remus knows better than anyone the importance of having a clear head before competition. Neither of you need to be here for this.Â
Remus waits as you nod, going back to Sirius and looping your arm through his before continuing towards the boards, keeping yourself purposefully between Sirius and his mother all the while. Remus watches you go, and then he turns to face Mrs. Black.Â
Remus has never gotten to kick anyone out of a rink before. Itâs a significant mood-booster. The way Walburgaâheâd learned her name when sheâd shrieked it at the staff no less than a dozen times, endeavoring madly to gain some favor from her surname, which Remus had never heard before Sirius but in Walburgaâs mind apparently ought to have the lower classes bending over backwardsâhad screeched and threatened as she and her husband had been dragged out was almost enough to make Remus regret sending Sirius away so he couldn't witness it himself. But, of course, Sirius is always better off with you.Â
Evidence of this arises as soon as Remus finds you. Youâve both shed your sweats, your matching costumes and makeup making you look nearly a mirror image. Siriusâ head is cupped between your hands, your foreheads bent together as you whisper to him ardently.Â
âFuck. Them.â You push your forehead into his.Â
âYeah.â Siriusâ brow is furrowed, his eyes closed. âFuck them.âÂ
There can only be a minute or so before youâre supposed to go out and perform, but Remus hangs back. Letting you have this, he thinks, might prove more effective than anything he could say.Â
âThey donât deserve you,â you tell Sirius firmly, âthey never did. Youâre here because of your hard work, not because of anything they gave you.âÂ
Sirius takes a breath. Pushes it back out. âI know.âÂ
Remusâ heart gives a painful squeeze for the both of you. As though by some sixth sense, Sirius looks up, blue eyes landing on his.Â
âTheyâre gone,â Remus says. You let out a breath, expression easing, but Sirius only nods. Remus draws closer. âYou alright?âÂ
âYeah,â Sirius replies. He turns, catching sight of the staff member coming to tell you itâs your turn. âLetâs do this.âÂ
Remus watches you two go out onto the ice, hoping he looks more confident than he feels. He doesnât doubt your ability to perform wellâhe never could, after all heâs seen from you these past several weeksâbut youâre angry and Sirius is something else, neither of you collected enough to summon the focus you need to pull this off. Remus forces himself to take a deep breath as you finish your loop around the rink and come to a stop in your starting position, telling himself heâll be happy for you no matter what.Â
He should have had more faith in the both of you.Â
As soon as the music starts itâs like the confusion of the past few days is wiped away entirely. Youâre the same as you were, as youâve always been, gliding alongside each other like the rest of the world doesnât exist. The only difference is that the energy between you thatâs always been there has shifted ever so slightly. Still love, but fuller now. Actualized.Â
Your costumes, gauzy layers of deep indigo, billow behind you to create the impression that youâre actually painting on the white canvas of the ice, each step a brushstroke done with intention and artistry. You and Sirius sweep around each other, undulating and circling and drifting apart before coming back. Your blades hit the ice after each jump like a crash of cymbals, perfectly on beat.Â
Towards the end of the routine, Sirius takes your hand in his. You start to circle him, backwards, one skate off the ground. Remus tenses as Sirius lowers himself into a squat, looking at you down the length of your arm. Thereâs not so much as a flicker in either of your expressions as he lowers you all the way.Â
Remus draws in a sharp breath of cold air.Â
You adjust beautifully, your training taking over to guide you through a move youâve never practiced, back arched and skirt fluttering in front of you. You go through a few rotations that way before Sirius lifts you up and propels you seamlessly into a spin. The death spiral finishes out flawlessly.Â
For just a second after your spin, you catch Remusâ gaze, eyes smiling as if to say, See?
He beams.Â
Remus is still beaming when he meets you in the kiss and cry, feeling soppy and ridiculous and overwhelmingly proud.Â
âThat was brilliant,â he says, taking you by the shoulders when you make it to him first. Youâre smiling too, radiant, eyes sparkling as sweetly as the day he met you. He squeezes you warmly. âBrilliant.âÂ
He catches hold of Sirius next, cupping his neck with both hands. The other boyâs eyebrow twitches, a sheepish smile coming to his face.Â
Remus laughs, âPrick,â and kisses him in the center of his forehead.Â
You make an ill-contained squealing sound, throwing your arms around them both. âI knew youâd do it,â you say, putting your lips to Siriusâ cheek, overflowing with happiness. âThank you, thank you, thank you.âÂ
Sirius gives a short laugh. Heâs no doubt enjoying the onslaught of affection, but he rolls his eyes anyway. âYeah, sure. Just ask next time.âÂ
#poly!wolfstar olympic au#poly!wolfstar#poly!wolfstar x reader#poly!wolfstar x fem!reader#poly!wolfstar x y/n#poly!wolfstar x you#poly!wolfstar x self insert#poly!wolfstar fanfiction#poly!wolfstar fanfic#poly!wolfstar fic#poly!wolfstar series#poly!wolfstar enemies to lovers#poly!wolfstar fluff#poly!wolfstar angst#poly!wolfstar imagine#poly!wolfstar scenario#poly!wolfstar drabble#poly!wolfstar blurb#poly!wolfstar oneshot#poly!wolfstar one shot#remus lupin x sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x sirius black x reader#wolfstar x reader#sirius black#remus lupin#figure skater!sirius#figure skater!reader#coach!remus
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Death and His Reaper
Pairing: Reader x Azriel
Summary: After suffering a devastating injury in battle, Azriel finds himself on the brink of life and death where he meets you, The Mother's reaper.
Warnings: angsty fluff?, brief mentions of battle and injury, lil convos about life and its meaning, Azriel without his shadows, lowk love at first sight
Word Count: 13k
âč ⶠ𧷠â¶âčÂ
 Azriel could feel the hot, metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, the sharp sting of pain shooting through his body with each ragged breath. A pounding, almost unbearable, pain in his head consumed him, a relentless throb that pulsed with every beat of his heartâ each pulse sending waves of nausea washing over him. He tried to move, to shift away from the agony, but his limbs felt like stone, heavy and unresponsive. His muscles screamed in protest with every attempt to shift position, every movement met with waves of agony that radiated through his battered form.
Dark spots filled his vision as the ringing in his ears grew louder. Everything was fuzzy, hazy, blurs of movement and moving color. Azriel could hear sounds around him. Loud sounds, piercing sounds. Distantly, he could make out what he assumed were screams. He wasnât sure though, and wasn't able to think about it too hard. His shadows were whispering to him, louder and louder, but he couldnât hear them. The sound rattled in his brain as he blinked. Once. Twice. His vision became more unfocussed.
With a final, shuddering breath, the world dissolved into darkness.Â
âč ⶠ𧷠â¶âčÂ
There was a humming in his ear when Azriel came to, a light vibration he wasnât familiar with. The ache in his body grew duller with every blinkâ his eyelids still heavy with pain, or exhaustion, he wasnât quite sure. One of the same, he guessed. He let a moment pass, taking deep breaths as he oriented himself. He laid in a bed, soft white sheets placed upon him gingerly. Had Feyre tucked him in? He thought for a moment. Why would Feyre tuck him in?Â
Another moment passed. Azriel became aware of his clothing, his body still strapped in his illyrian leathersâ leathers that were eerily clean. No smudges, no stains. Pushing himself upright, Azriel glanced around the room, his movements slow and unsteady. There was no one else in sight, no familiar faces to provide him with answers. He frowned, his brows knitting together in a puzzled expression. With a hesitant sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his muscles protesting at the sudden movement. He wavered for a moment, grasping for balance, before taking a cautious step forward.Â
He casted a casual glance towards the bed, rubbing his hands across his face in exhaustion as made a move towards the door, his thoughts scattered and disjointed. But then he stilled, his head quickly snapping back. Instead of an empty bed, Azriel's gaze fell upon his own body, lying prone and unmovingâ paled, almost colorless, wings hanging limply at his sides. He blinked, a flicker of confusion and fear knitting his brows as he registered the scene before him.Â
âQuite strange, isnât it?â
Azriel whipped his head around, his hand instinctively reaching for a dagger at his hip that he failed to find. His wings flared out angrily, fully extended with curled ends, each single claw at the apex poised and ready to strike. His eyes were wide as they focused on you.Â
You let out a quiet laugh, a gentle sound that caressed him like a comforting hand. He felt himself falter, a sense of confusion washing over him. Yet, within that confusion was a warmth that spread through him at your presence, at your voiceâ soft, like a faint ray of sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.
He fought the sudden urge to stand down, an odd sense of safety wrapping around him, unnerving him with the ease in which it filled him. He struggled back, pushing the feeling away. Stay guarded, stay ready, you are a threat. Yet even in his attempts, he recognized a slight release in the tension surrounding his shoulders, a small release in the stance of his wingsâ decisions he hadnât consciously made. With his eyes still trained on you, his hand searched the side of his thigh, his hip, the backside of his waistband. He patted frantically, fingers itching to find a form of protection. When his search came up empty once more, he settled for holding his other hand out towards you in warning, his palm facing you as his body fell into a defensive stance. The blue siphon on his hand glowed aggressively.Â
The corners of your mouth tilted into a small smile. âYou do that everytime.â
Azriel didnât return the gesture. Instead, he narrowed his eyes as he properly took you in. He scanned your body; the way you stood comfortably in front of him, your hands clasped together, placed delicately in front of your waist. It almost hurt to look at you, he observed. He had to squint to make out your features. And when he did, he was hit with one thought: you were beautiful.Â
He cursed himself for recognizing it, for letting the thought echo in his head. You were a threat, he reminded himself, a stranger in his home. He was confused, disoriented, and yet you stood in front of him, presence dripping in a calm ease. You stared at him with a look he couldnât discern, not when his mind was a muddled, confused, blurry mess. But the way you were looking, so expectant, so patientâ it made him slightly nauseated.Â
 âWho are you?â Azrielâs voice was loud and rough. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, a twitch in his wings, still extended wide. âWhat the hell are you talking about?â Â
Azriel scrambled for words, his head aching as he searched it for answers, for explanations. His confusion exposed him in a way that made him feel nakedâ at risk. None of it was right, not him standing over his own body, not him conversing with, what might possibly be, the most gorgeous female heâd ever seen, not the empty room around him. Was he dreaming? Was he being tortured?
You slowly lifted your hands in defense, remaining careful of how fast your movements were. âIâm not here to cause you any harm.â
A skeptical expression crossed his face. âThen why are you here?â He eyed you intently, his gaze scanning you as if sizing up a potential threat. His outstretched hand stayed unmoving, still on the defense. But you recognized a subtle shift in his posture, a slight calm flickering in his moving eyes.
Azriel was always the more difficult of the three to soothe. You had noticed this the last time, his wings shredded with ash arrows, his blood coating the floors beneath him. Even then, even through the exhaustion that bled into his unconscious mindâ into his soulâ he had fought you, acknowledged you with apprehension and distrust. You never blamed him, though. You understood. You would be fearful, confused, and defensive, too.Â
âIâm here to help you.âÂ
Your voice was lower now than it was before. A soft murmur. He recognized the cadence, the words. It felt like a voice heâd heard before but couldnât quite place.Â
"Who are you?" Azriel demanded as he frantically looked between his own body and you. He felt a sense of fear he wasn't accustomed to, a worry that either body would vanish were he to take his eyes away for too long. "What the hell is going on?"
You took a step forward as he turned to look upon his body, reaching an arm out to touch him, to begin to explain, when his head swiftly turned back to you. Azriel recoiled, taking a step away from you, his eyes scanning you againâ wide and wild. There was a rustle as his wings mirrored his actions, still extended aggressively, unmoving. You quickly stilled, realizing your mistake of initiating contact too soon. Your brows furrowed as you gave him an apologetic smile. You took a step back, settling to stand a bit further from him than you were before.Â
Hazel eyes watched your every movement, his body tense as you fixed yourself into place, standing in front of him with the small smile still on your faceâ it reeked of pity, he thought. It didnât feel right. No matter where he was, or who you were, he wasnât supposed to be this off guard, this jumpy.Â
His face fell as the realization hit him: he couldn't feel them. His companions, his protectors, his shadowsâ there were no whisperings in his ear, no cool trail as they snaked around his body. He hadnât noticed before, too distracted by you, by his lifeless form. The absence of his shadows explained this sudden vulnerabilityâ he was receiving no information on you. No intel about who you were, what weapons you may have, who was around to witness. As quick as the realization settled into his stomach, Azriel called out to them. He dropped one of his hands lower as if to make it easier for them to find him, to reach him, but nothing came. No cool touch on his body, no whispers. Instead, silence enveloped him as he took notice of motion around him, black wisps of smoke scattered throughout the room.Â
You watched his movements, watched as he examined himself, as he craned his head to scan his body. "They can sense you," you explained, gesturing towards the shadows that seemed to be bouncing around, slithering on the ground like they were blind and confused. Some rested on his unmoving body, some around his feet, but not quite on him. His wings began to retract and slump as Azrielâs face slightly fell, his mouth open and brows furrowed.Â
He looked down, observing his hands tentatively. âWhy arenât they with me?â Azriel asked. His voice was slightly strained. He didnât look up at you, his vision trained to his scarred hands, to the floor below him where shadows circled aimlessly. He felt an ache in his heart, a longing to be covered again, to be with them, to be protected. He felt too naked, stripped of every layer that protected himâ no shadows, no intel, bare before you.
âYour shadows are sentient,â you explained, âthey donât die with you.â
His head snapped up, hazel eyes meeting yours instantly, widened with disbelief. "Die?" he repeated, his eyes scanning yours. "What do you mean die?"
In a slight moment of shock, Azriel took an unconscious step forward. His body tensed, and you watched as the rest of his frame followed suit, the muscles in his jaw clenching. There was an evident unease in his face, tension etched into his features.
You maintained a stillness, a deliberate choice not to intrude further, to remain respectful of his boundaries. Your gaze held a mixture of understanding and patience, offering him a moment to process the information without feeling overwhelmed. Then, you softly asked, âWhere do you think you are, Azriel?â
His name sounded foreign on your tongue but he didnât have the space to acknowledge it, instead rummaging through his other thoughts. He blinked, taking in your question. A dull ache in his head creeped up on him, but your voice soothed it instantlyâ soft, comforting.Â
"I... I don't know," he stammered, voice low and quiet, void of any assertion it held moments prior. His eyes darted back and forth, attempting to piece together fragments of memory. His wings now mirrored his defeated stateâ limp and listless, curled in, the membrane hanging dejectedly.
Sensing his growing distress, you adjusted your approach. "What is the last thing you remember?"Â
Your voice, smooth like honey and warm like tea, flowed through him. For a moment, he allowed it to sit, allowed it to spread, letting it calm him in a way that he was fighting before. Â
"IâŠ" Azriel muttered to himself. Slowly, fragments of memory began to resurface, faint but discernible. He looked back at his body, examining it as if trying to find the missing pieces, memories popping up like distant echoes, flashing in the corners of his brain. The ache was back, slowly spreading throughout his head. âI was fighting.â
He looked back over his shoulder, twisting his body to peer at where his physical body lay in the bed, the colors of the room now registering with a strange clarity. Tandem disembodied flashbacks surged through his mindâflashes of fighting, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, and the cacophony of clashing weapons. Each image hit him like a sudden jolt, disjointed and chaotic.
In one fragment, he could almost feel the weight of a blade in his hand, the strain of muscles as he swung it in a frenzied dance. Another flash brought back the distant echoes of shouted commands, the clash of metal on metal, and the acrid scent of sweat and blood lingering in the air. The blurry memories continued, each scene disconnected yet vivid in its brutality. He shivered as the ghost of each sensation trailed his body, a twitch in his wings as he recalled the injuries they had sustained.Â
Then, a searing pain in his head, a sharp and sudden ache that brought him to his knees in his mind's eye. The pain lingered in his skull like a phantom sensation, and with it, a realization began to form. His eyes met yours with a cold, distant understanding. A wave of sadness hit you.Â
"I'm dead,â he stated, his voice quiet, âAren't I?"
A sympathetic smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Not yet," you clarified, taking a step to move closer, the movement slow and deliberate. "You're in between."
"In between? In between where?"
You took a moment to look at him, your gaze lingering on his face. His eyes were darker now, troubled, as he stared back at you. âYour body,â You started, gesturing towards his sleeping form to guide his attention back to where it lay, âIt's still fighting.â
Azriel nodded slowly, taking in each of your words, digesting them, letting them sit. There was a shift in his expressionâa solemn understanding replacing the earlier confusion he once held. You continued.Â
 "Madja, she's a brilliant healer. She has brought back many from this same brink." Â
When Azriel looked back at you, you shifted your focus to his head, motioning with a gentle sweep of your hand, then directed your fingers towards your own temple. "And your mind," You said, "it's fighting too."Â
Azriel frowned. He was a soldier. He sustained many injuries before, had fought in battles that left him with gaping wounds, with his organs rearranged. This was nothing newâ so why was this different? Had he always been out this long?Â
You watched him intently, observing the way his thoughts seemed to churn beneath the surface, how he began to blink rapidly, how his brow furrowed. He was still confusedâ you could feel it. You let out a small sigh, running your eyes across his face.Â
"The injury you sustained was worse than any you've ever had," you explained, your voice steady. Flashes of his memories interjectedâhim fighting, soaring into the air only to be shot down, engaging in combat once again, his head colliding with something hard, the sickening sound of a crunch. "Not only to your body but to your head. You cracked your skull open completely, Azriel. The trauma of the infliction itself⊠well, let's say it damaged your brain. Heavily."
As Azriel looked directly at you, his hazel eyes glazed over with deep contemplation. He nodded absentmindedly, "Okay.â He said. He looked over to his unmoving form again.Â
With his attention fixated on his proper body, you took the time to observe him more closely, scanning his face and his body, taking in the details of his fighting leathers. Azriel was a visionâ your favorite male to visit, your favorite soul to see. You canât remember the first time you saw him, the first time he laid on a bed, a grasp away from death. You suppose it was centuries ago, when he first became a soldier. But even then, time escaped you.Â
Your gaze wandered to the wings adorning his back, now freed from their earlier alarmed nature, not fully extended but not fully kept back. You thought back to their wide and impressive extended form, the membrane between each robust wing bearing a faint sheen, casting a subtle shimmer in the ambient light. Even now they were mesmerizingâ the leathery texture, the powerful structure, the way they naturally framed his form. The tips of the expansive wings curved slightly, giving Azriel an imposing yet graceful appearance, even among current circumstances. Azriel's voice brought you back to attention.Â
"So I'm stuck here?"Â
"For now."Â You responded, your voice carrying a gentle reassurance. The look on his face, only beginning to finally process his reality, pushed you to postpone any further explanations. Time was not an issue, not now.Â
"And you are..." Azriel's voice trailed off.
"Y/n," you answered.Â
He let the name sink in, repeating it with a slow, deliberate pace, "Y/n."Â
âYes.â You nodded.
âAnd youâre here to help me.â
Another nod. âYes.â
He rolled his shoulders as something that resembled a skeptical scowl slowly made its way through his face. Then, Azriel squinted his eyes at you. âHow do I know youâre telling the truth?â
You couldn't help itâa small laugh escaped you, echoing softly in the room. The sound made Azriel jolt back slightly, caught off guard. Dying it down with a small, genuine smile on your face, you caught Azrielâs uncomfortable gaze, his wings now extended slightly, the corners of his lips downturned in confusion.
"Iâm- Iâm sorry,â You said, clearing your throat. âIt's just... you are curious this time around.âÂ
Azriel's hazel eyes widened in shock, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Thisâ this time around?â His eyes rapidly scanned your face with a deep intensity. Faintly, he recalled your earlier comment, the laugh when you said that he reacted the same way every time. âHave we met before?"
You offered him a small smile as you said, "Many times.â
Azriel let out a deep breath. Here he stood, suspended between life and something else entirely, facing someone who knew him in a way that he couldnât even remember. A sense of anxiety filled his chest. He wished for his shadows now, for them to wrap themselves around his arms, around his neck, to offer some calm. He searched you for any sign of deception, looked at the way your eyes followed him, the stance that you held. But all he found was a sense of sincerity and tenderness.Â
âYour family tends to face death a lot more than others in Prythian,â you explained, âYou and your brothers especially."Â
At the mention of his brothers, Azriel's heart dropped, a heaviness settling in his chest. Thoughts of his family rushed inâwondering who had found him, the worry that surely gripped them. He straightened up, a sense of urgency urging him to survey his surroundings. His family⊠His gaze moved beyond you, taking in the details of the room. It was his guest suite in the River House, the room heâd stay in when he came to visit Rhysand and Feyre, the room they would drag him into when he needed to rest or heal. It was his room. Yet, there were no sounds of people, no familiar voicesâjust the quiet emptiness that surrounded him, surrounded you both. Surely they would be near him, Azriel thought, Madja at the least.
"Where is everyone?" He asked, still scanning the room. He walked towards the large windows, taking in the nighttime view, gorgeous and stillâ mountains covered in snow, a city lit by moonlight.Â
âHere, it's just you," you said gently.
Azriel turned to face you once more, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. He didnât ask for any further explanation, a sense of exhaustion heavily weighing on him. His eyes bore into yours. "And you. You exist here too.âÂ
âI do.â
He took a step towards you, wings rustling in their position behind his back. Azriel scanned your face, hazel eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and weariness. He wasnât afraid of you, didnât believe you were a threatâ not anymore, at least. But you were still here, in this state of existence that only he was in.Â
âWhy?â
The question was pure curiosity, not a hint of distrust or malice within it. You observed him, noting how he seemed to have settled, the tension in his frame easing. Instead, a subtle sadness lingered, a reflection of longing. Azriel loved his family, this much you knew. He was a devoted male, devoted to serving those he loved, devoted to his position, to his duties. Of course he was missing his family. Your heart ached.Â
"I'm here to help," you assured, "Iâm to stay while you heal, or untilâ"
âUntil I stopâŠâ Azriel finished the sentence, a quiet acceptance in his voice. "And then you guide me."
You were taken aback as Azriel's hazel eyes locked onto yours, a moment of realization passing between you. Usually, it was you who revealed your purpose to those you reaped, explaining the meaning of your duties, easing their worries. You blinked, your head tilting back slightly as you clasped your hands together. Azriel continued, stating with a quiet certainty, "You're a reaper."
You nodded, titling your head as you took in his face, his brows slightly knitted. âI am.âÂ
You werenât supposed to be doing this. In situations like these, where they were stuck between the life before and the life after, you were to leave them in peaceâ wait until they decided or their body decided for them. It was never intended for you to stay with them during the waiting period, to keep them company. No, this was something you felt inclined to do. You couldnât leave Azriel if you wanted to, it felt wrongâ and you didnât want to. Not one bit.Â
"You weren't what I expected," Azriel admitted.
Azriel had a faint idea of your kind, of your duties. He heard accounts of near-death experiences, tales of encountering a radiant light, foggy memories and beliefs of meeting a beautiful entityâwhatever that meant. He always wrote them off as distant narratives, existing in the realms of folklore and imagination. He would have never imagined something like you â something so⊠delicate.Â
Curiosity lingered in your gaze as you asked, "What did you expect?"Â
"I don't know," Azriel replied honestly, his head beginning to throb and ache again. A hand instinctively rose to the back of his scalp, fingers rubbing at the tension that surfaced. The ache radiated through his skull as he massaged his hairline. You recognized the discomfort with a small frown, playing with your hands as you observed him for a moment.Â
 "Azriel,â You spoke, drawing his attention back to you, âI'm going to give you some time to process everything. Explore, think. When you're ready, and if you want to, you can find me then."
Azriel looked at you, uncertainty drawn across his features. "How will I know where you are?â
"Youâll know.â A soft smile played on your lips as you reassured him. âTrust me.â
As you left, Azriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the quiet expanse embrace him. Â
âč ⶠ𧷠â¶âčÂ
You were right. Azriel knew exactly where to find you. How we knew, he didnât know. He wasnât even aware of how he got to you, how he managed to move. One moment he was wandering, taking in the quiet halls of the house, the next he was thinking of you, seeking you outâ and then he was here, watching you.Â
It was dark out still, a fresh night breeze in the air. Azriel stood for a moment, taking in his surroundingsâa small clearing nestled between two towering mountains covered in snow. The landscape was rugged, the terrain too harsh to be in the vicinity of Velaris. Somewhere beyond the borders of Illyria, he concluded. He turned his focus back to you. Draped in a simple cream-colored dress, you stood at the edge of the clearing, your silhouette softly illuminated by the glow of the full moon that hung in the sky. The moonlight painted the terrain around you with a soft, silvery hue, casting long shadows that danced across the uneven ground.Â
âHi, Azriel.â The words left your mouth before you turned your head to look at him. When your eyes met his, you gave him a smile. He faltered for a moment.
âHello⊠Y/n.â He said your name quietly, adding it onto his greeting tentatively, as if he was testing how it felt on his tongue. He liked it, he decided. It tasted sweet.Â
You turned your head back to the view in front of you, and Azriel took it as an unspoken invitation. Slowly, he found himself walking towards you, the snow crunching beneath his boots. You both stood in silence, and Azriel found a sense of calm rolling through him. Taking a deep breath, he let his wings unfurl slightly, not having noticed the tension they had been carrying, tucked tightly behind him.
Azriel turned to gaze at you. You stood still, eyes trained forward on the view before you. Your focus prompted him to take in the sight once more, bringing his attention back to the vast expanse ahead.
"Where are we?" he asked, his voice low and steady.
It was now your turn to look at him, to observe the side of his face as he looked forward. The faint glow of the moonlight casted shadows on the contours of his face. He looked almost holy, something devout and ethereal. "You donât recognize it?â
Your question led to a contemplative frown creasing his brow and he turned his head, taking in the soft smile on your face. âShould I?â
You turned your body fully to face him, craning your head to look up at him. There was a subtle shift in his expression as your eyes met. You nodded toward the view, a gentle encouragement.
âLook again.âÂ
And he did.Â
Then, his gaze softened, a hint of recognition flickering in his eyes. Azriel's shoulders fell, a subtle release of tension, and his wings shuddered softly. "I used to come here," he said quietly, "A long time ago⊠I used to come here."
His eyes shifted between you and the view. You met his gaze, nodding in silent understanding, leaving a space of silence that invited him to continue talking if he desired toâ if he was comfortable.Â
"I found it flying one night," he continued. His memories now seemed to dance in his mind, distant yet vivid, a time before Amarantha, before Koshei. A faint smile ghosted his lips. âI'd find time between missions to come here and just breathe. Now I could never validate wasting time to be here, doing nothing."
You let out a small hum. âTaking time to breathe is never a waste.â
Azriel turned to look at you. "How did you..."Â
"Know about this?" you finished for him. He nodded.
You smiled, the expression warm and animated. Holding your arms in front, one hand cradling each elbow, you continued, "I could feel it. Part of our duty," your voice carried a gentle honesty. "The Mother helps us to find your peace."
Azriel's gaze scanned you again, a subtle curiosity in his eyes. His attention shifted to your arms, and then to the snow-covered surroundings. "Are you cold?" he asked, concern lacing his words. Instinctively, he placed a hand on your bicep, but quickly retracted it when he registered the movement.Â
You kept your gaze locked with his, unfazed. "No," you replied calmly, and then added, "Neither are you."
Azriel blinked, and then he looked down at himself, his eyes scanning his own body, his arms. He wasnât cold. He thought back to every time he had visited this place, this lookout. Being so high up made the air nippy, made the breeze coldâ he always wore an extra layer. But here he stood, alongside you, and all he could feel was a sense of warmth. Interesting. It was all so interesting to him.Â
Azriel nodded to himself, turning to face forward again. He traced the tops of the snow-covered mountains, the valley below. You remained sideways for a moment, watching him as he processed the image before him. Another moment passed and then you, too, turned to face forward, mirroring his contemplative posture.Â
âSo, what does it all mean?â He asked, his voice a low murmur.Â
You stilled, rubbing your lips together as you took in his question. You glanced to the side, his eyes still trained before him. It wasnât the view he was talking about, you knew this. He was asking the question many before him had, wondering about the purpose of life, the answer to their troubles. You thought for a moment, pondering on what to tell him. There were no right responses hereâ at least, none that you thought would satisfy him. So, you answered from your heart.
âDoes it have to mean something?â
Azrielâs head turned to you. âYes,â He said, all too fast. It had to mean something. His entire existence, his suffering, every life he had takenâ it had to mean something. He needed it to mean something. The agony he had lived with, the anger he wore as second skin, it was all for something⊠for some reason. He needed it to be. So he continued, âIt has to.â
You studied him, watching the subtle shifts in his demeanor, the weight of his gaze lingering on youâ there was something in his eyes, a sense of desperation, of fear. You took a deep breath, and then you offered an understanding smile.
âThen it means whatever you need it to mean.â
Azriel frowned.
âThat isnât an answer.â
You tilted your head slightly, looking at him for a moment before you responded. âWell,â You said, "Perhaps you asked the wrong question.â
âWhat do you mean?â His brows knitted together, forming a furrowed line of confusion on his forehead. Faintly, in the back of his head, an ache gnawed at him.Â
Facing each other now, you maintained eye contact as he looked at you intently. âAsk me what you really want to, Azriel.â
âI-I donât know what youâre talking about.â There was a tinge of frustration in his voice, delicately mixed into the confusion that laced it.Â
You simply shrugged, giving him a close-mouthed smile. âYou will.â
In normal circumstances, your elusive answers would have driven him crazyâ he would be suspicious of you, find a sense of guilt in your failure to give proper, concrete responses. But he wasnât in a normal circumstance, and you werenât a threat. These were two things he knew, now, for sure. So he took your answers, as ambiguous as they were, and let them sit with him in the comfortable, cool, silence.Â
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Azriel found you again by the Sidra, walking along the cobblestone streets of Velaris. It was the same again, him being able to find you without so much as a second guess. It was daytime now, he noticed. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow onto the city streets, filling his body with a comfortable, familiar, warmth. A few steps ahead of him, you stilled, turning around gracefully to face him.Â
âHello Azriel.âÂ
He stopped, making a motion to look around as if he were to find someone else, another person you might be referring to. Quickly he remembered that it was just you and him in this plane, in this form of his existence. He cleared his throat.
âY/n,â He greeted, with a small nod of his head.Â
He walked towards you, stopping into place in front of you, a few feet ahead. The sunlight hit your back, creating a soft, radiant glow around your silhouetteâ it outlined your figure, forming a subtle halo around your head that seemed to blend with the warmth of the sun. It almost looked as if the sunlight itself was embracing you, framing your presence with a touch of radiance. Azriel took a moment to admire it.Â
He realized seconds later that heâd stared for too long, that you were now gazing up at him expectantly, eyes scanning his face.Â
Azriel wasnât much of a talker, not around strangers, and sometimes not even his own family. It was never that he didnât have things to sayâ quite the opposite, really. Az thought about everything, and he thought about it all very deeply. He had too much to say, too much that heâd observed. But now, in front of you, his mind was drawing blanks. He thought back to how, not long ago, you both stood on a snowy mountain, looking into the comfortable darkness of the night. How time worked here, with you, he didnât know. It didnât bother him, however, not like it did when he first woke up. In fact, he had begun to enjoy it. To enjoy how free it was, how there were no rules, no expectations, no missions.Â
Azriel paused, his thoughts swirling, and then, almost as if caught off guard by his own words, he blurted out, "I would like to show you something."Â
You blinked in surprise, your mouth parting slightly as your heart seemed to skip a beat, carefully falling back into a rhythmic melody. A smile spread across your featuresâ a broad, teeth-revealing smile. The corners of Azrielâs lips turned up in response. If you didnât know any better, you would have described the smile as almost awkward in its delivery. Though modest, it still held a certain beauty as it graced his face. The lines that had once etched across his features seemed to smooth out, replaced by silent calm evident in the softening of his gaze, the subtle curve of that smile. Your own smile settled into a close-lipped one, and you gently pulled your bottom lip with your teeth before nodding your head. Â
âLead the way, Azriel," you said, and he began walking, but not without a quick glance back at you, ensuring you were following his lead. As you walked beside him at a comfortable pace, his wings fanned out comfortably. Their immense size allowed them to extend behind you, and even though you walked at his pace, you could feel their presence above you.
The streets of Velaris unfolded before you as you walked alongside Azriel. You took it all inâ the beauty of the city, its intricate architecture and vibrant atmosphere. It was always a pleasure to experience it, to breathe in its life. Even amidst the circumstances that brought you here, there was a sense of appreciation for the privilege of experiencing such a place. A sense of jealousy welled up within you. Envy for those who could lead a normal life hereâ those who could wake up, take a walk by the Sidra, greet their friends in the morning light. It all seemed so mundane, so easy. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to give it the air to breathe, the space to fester. You looked towards Azriel.
âWhere are we going?â You asked, as you both rounded a corner into a small alleyway. The space was narrow, causing you to fall into line behind him, your vision focusing on his wings. They were beautiful before, in the nighttime glow, but seeing them in such close proximity, with the sun casting through their membranes, it was a different experience. Such beautiful, beautiful things, you thought. You ached to run your fingertips across them.Â
He responded over his shoulder, "Aren't you supposed to know everything?"
You sensed a slight playful tone in his voice, letting out a small laugh at his question.Â
"That's not how it works," you replied, "I'm not The Mother."
Azriel stopped for a moment, causing you to skitter to a stop as well. He looked back, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he uttered a simple "huh."Â
You suddenly felt a vulnerability settling in, an awkward awareness of yourself and your proximity to him. Before it could fully take hold, Azriel resumed walking and you followed. The alleyway began to open up to a bigger road, allowing the space for you both to begin walking side by side once more.Â
"Azriel,â You said, casting a glance up at him, âIf you're leading me to some private area to kill me, I hate to tell you that it won't work."
He stopped, and then craned his head down to look at you. A nervous flutter danced in your chest as a sense of self-consciousness crept in. What a stupid joke to make, you thought. What if he believed you were making a crude reference to his duties as a spymasterâ assuming the worst of him and his abilities? Had you inadvertently touched on a sensitive subject in an attempt at humor? You weren't friends, you reminded yourself, there was still an expectation of professionalism to uphold. Azriel looked at you for a moment. And then another.
And then, he laughed. The sound, small and amused, radiated through your chest. You awkwardly joined in, unsure if your joke had landed or if it was something else entirely.
"Why would I kill the one who will bring me peace?" he asked, his words delivered with a touch of sincerity.Â
You let out a breath, taking in his face, the hazel of his eyes as he stared down at you. You smiled back at him, letting out another laugh, this time more certain and lighthearted. "Right, that would be foolish of you.â
You knew that Azriel was talking about your duties, about the job of a Reaper, not you specifically. But for a moment, you let yourself live in a fantasy, one where you weren't simply The Motherâs hand, where you didnât only exist here, in a space where no one remembered you.Â
Azriel beckoned you to walk into the bigger street. It was only a few more steps before you stopped, taking in the sight of a quaint shop before you, adorned with small tables and chairs, surrounded by hanging plants and flowers. The window boasted a delicately hand-painted logo: Fillings & Emulsions.
Azriel took notice of the silence surrounding you both, no hum of the usual Velaris life, no laughter, no murmured distant conversations. Yet, the shop still smelled like its usual selfâ a sweet, buttery aroma of delicate treats and pastries. Azriel breathed it in with a smile. He opened the door, a small jingle sounding above him where a tiny bell rang. He held it open for you to enter.
Your gaze swept across the interior, taking in the small tables and the glass display filled with pastries of various shapes and colors. Behind the counter, loaves of bread sat neatly on wooden shelves.
"I like coming here, when I have the time."Â
Wandering around and exploring the cozy pastry shop, your gaze casually shifted towards Azriel, who remained by the doorway. "You're a dessert person?" you asked as you continued to meander through the charming space.Â
âSometimes,â Azriel replied, walking further into the store. He looked around, taking in the familiar environment, the comforting decor. âBut they have these sour candies that I love. They come in this little gold box-â
âYou mean these?â
Now behind the counter, you turned around to face him, a small delicate gold box in your hand. The plastic cover revealed 12 small square gummies nestled inside, each in their own white wrapper. You looked up at him for confirmation. Azriel met your eyes before his gaze traveled down to your hands.
âYes,â he breathed, a small smile forming on his lips, âThose.â
You smiled at the response, slowly making your way back around the counter, a few feet away from where he stood. You surveyed the store, eyes bouncing to the different tables and mismatched chairs. âWhere do you usually sit?âÂ
 âI, uh, I donât.â Azriel cleared his throat. âI never have the time. And when I do, I usually just head home.âÂ
Azriel didnât explain further, didnât tell you his real reasons. It was true, he usually didnât have time to sit and leisurely enjoy a box of candies. But when he did, he was often too afraid to stay in the store itself.Â
Azriel knew he called attention, that his wings stuck out in stark contrast against the gentle streets of the city, the quiet hum of life. Heâd conditioned himself to appear smaller when walking around, to avoid direct eye contact so as to not intimidate those he passed. But even then, his presence was offputtingâ heâd catch citizens avoiding him, creating more distance between them or switching to the opposite side of the street. It was part of the job, he told himself. He was a large male, fully aware of how terrifying his stature could be, how frightening his own wings could beâ especially when fully extended. Not even to mention his scarred hands, ones that he was sure fae could imagine easily drenched in the blood of his enemies. He wore gloves when he could. He wasnât ashamed of themâ his handsâ not as much as before, but he was always acutely aware. Aware that they werenât normal, that they drew attention, that for the comfort of others, he hid them away.Â
He came to, his thoughts slowly dissipating as he registered his surroundings once more, his gaze landing on you. You looked at him with a small curiosity in your eyes.
âWell,â You said, taking a glance around, âWould you like to sit now?â
âI would.â He nodded, offering a small smile that carried a touch of timidity. It wasn't like before, no uncertainty or awkwardness, but rather a gentle expression that hinted at a reserved warmth.Â
âInside or outside?â
Azriel looked over his shoulder, towards the small door and the seating outside.Â
âOutside,â he replied.
A hum of agreement escaped your lips as you gave him a smile, taking a step to the side in order to walk around him, leading the way. The gentle jingle of the little doorbell echoed delicately as you stepped outside.
 Azriel followed you, watching as you approached a small steel table. The white paint was chipped, flaking off at certain areas of the legs, but you didnât seem to mind. The air felt crisp and clean, rays of sunshine peeking through alleyways and the tips of the stores that lined the street. Azriel took a moment to breathe it in, savoring the clarity that hung in the atmosphere, the silence. You pulled out your chair, the movement emitting a small screech as it slid against the cobblestones. Azriel walked to the table, standing opposite of you, and carefully took a seat.Â
As you slowly opened the box, Azriel adjusted himself in the seat. It was small, the steel back stiff and straight, making it hard for him to sit comfortably with his wings. After a small struggle, he settled into a position sitting up right, wings draping across each side of the chair. The frustration melted away as he took in his surroundings once more. He felt a certain peace heâd never felt before. A lightness in his movements, in his touch. The fresh air kissed his skin, a soft breeze whispered into his ears, threading itself through his hair.Â
âIs it always like this?â He asked.Â
You pulled the lid off the box, casting a glance up at him. Azrielâs head was turned sideways, his gaze following the curve of the streets.
âLike what?â
He looked at you, catching your eye. His face held a graceful calmness, brows slightly furrowed, and the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With a soft, velvety tone, he replied, "This peaceful."Â
Turning to the side, you quickly scanned over the streets, registering the simple beauty that surrounded you both. Turning back to him, a tender smile played on your lips.
âYes,â you replied, âIt is.â
Azriel's response was a simple silent contemplation. Leaning back with a subtle adjustment for comfort, his wings gently folded and his gaze fixed on the table. Azriel loved Velaris. But he would be lying if he said he didnât enjoy the peace of an empty city that graced him now. Sitting with you now, at a small table by the streets, was something he was never able to doâ not truly, not to this extent. He held the feeling close.Â
 "Which are your favorites?"Â
Your voice pulled Azriel back to reality. He blinked, and then he looked at you.Â
"The green ones.â
You picked up one of the green candies nestled in white wrapping and offered it to him. Your hands briefly touched as he gently accepted the candy from you. You felt the texture of his skin against yours, the small ridges formed by the scarred tissue that extended to his fingers.Â
Azriel waited for itâ the expected recoil from unintended contact, his body having been naturally accustomed to jump at the slightest of touches. However, this time, there was no involuntary withdrawal, no rush of icy embarrassment.Â
He was always so careful of his touch with Elain, acutely aware of how his hands looked against her immaculate skin. Although he refused to admit it, it bothered him deeply, how obvious it made his differences appear. Yet, that caution wasnât found now, in his movements with you. Instead, a sense of certainty filled him, a gentle nudge to his heart, a contentedness with himself and his presence. You were beautiful, graceful, kindâ and he didnât feel guilt when touching you, didnât feel as if he were about to taint something too beautiful for his hands.
You observed him as he stared at his hands, now resting on the table, the candy still in between his fingers. With a small movement, you gently cupped the side of one of them with your palm.Â
âAzriel,â You softly said, pulling his attention to you. âThey didnât feel this type of peaceâ didnât feel peace at all, actually.â
Azriel stayed quiet, his gaze now trained on where your hand touched his. You pulled your hand back, and Azriel's gaze followed. Then, almost imperceptibly, the hazel of his eyes brightened. There was something about the way you spoke to him, about how kind your voice was. They didnât feel peace. Your words rang in his head, a wave of relief passing through his body. It healed a part of him that he swore was broken, warmed his body like a summer's eve. He gave you a small smile.Â
You worried for a moment that you had forced thoughts onto him, ones that harbored pain and loneliness. But you felt it in your gut, a need to tell him, to let him know that they had suffered the way they deservedâ that his hands were solely a part of him, a body part, natural. And from his response, it seemed as if he understood what you were saying, and most importantly, that it resonated with him the way you wished it to. You returned your attention to the sour candies before you.
"Can I ask why you like these so much?"
Azriel looked at you, a close-mouthed smile forming. His eyes crinkled a bit, and then he explained, "My mother used to give me candies just like this when I was able to see her. I never figured out how she got them. She..." He trailed off, readjusting how he was sitting. His gaze met yours as he finished, "That's why."
You could sense the sadness now evident in his face, his wings rolling in closer to his body. You let out a small breath as a sudden pang of sympathy hit you.Â
"Let's talk about something else," you suggested, subtly shifting the focus as you played with the edges of the candy box
Azriel leaned forward quickly, his hand reaching out to gently rest on yours before either of you had the chance to register the movement. "It's alright,â he said softly. âI'd like to talk about this. I don't talk about her much.â
Your gaze lingered on his hand touching yours, on the warmth that spread through your skin at the contact. Be professional, you reminded yourself. This is not real.Â
With a genuine smile, you nodded, careful not to move a muscle, not wanting to disrupt the moment, to risk the chance of him retracting his hand. "Then please, I'd love to hear.â
And so he did. Azriel spoke of his mother, of growing up admiring her long hair and the way she smelled of pine and snow. He realized that he had never talked so much about himself, never shared such intimate details about his life. He realized, too, that he quite liked it. He liked talking to you. He liked you.Â
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Days and nights had passed, Azriel was sure of it, but he was never tired, never slept. Time worked so differently hereâ he wasnât aware of it passing, wasnât aware of what heâd done the day before or even hours prior. All he was aware of was the peace in his heart, how it radiated throughout his body, relieving him of centuries worth of tension. Amidst it all was you, a companion Azriel had grown to enjoyâ to adore, if he was being honest with himself.
You were kind and patient, welcoming in a way that had him opening up to you, telling you stories that heâd never dared to share with anyone else. There was no fear of being vulnerable here, with you, no threat he had to worry about, no anxiety regarding a new enemy or an evil to defeat. It was all so easy.Â
Azriel walked through the hallways of the House of Wind, taking in the familiar sense of home that filled it, the beauty of the sun-warmed stone. He found himself outside of his own room, staring in at the space. It was strange to think that his body, his real body, lay in another bedroom, in another homeâ in a form of existence that he no longer held. It was all so very strange. But he didnât mind, not anymore.
He felt you before he heard you, a gentle breeze fanning over him, a smell of sweetness filling his nose. He turned to face you, taking in your presence, the cream dress that adorned your figure. It was there again, the subtle halo around your head, framed by faint rays of sunlight.Â
âHello, Azriel.â You greeted with a large smile. He mirrored the gesture almost instantly.Â
âHello, y/n.âÂ
You took a few steps forward, craning your head to peer into the room behind him, past the doorway he stood under.Â
âIs this your room?âÂ
âYes,â He said, taking a step aside to allow for you to pass him as you entered. âOne of many. My family, they have many places to call home.â
âDo you miss them?â You asked, casting a glance over your shoulder as you moved around his room, âYour family, I mean.â
Azriel stilled for a moment. He hadnât thought of them as much as he would have expected, a part of him felt guilty for not being as heartbroken. He did miss his familyâ he was worried about them, about how they were doing, if his help was needed. But he didnât feel a rush to return to his life, no nauseating need to fix his current situation, to be healed and awake.Â
âYes.â He replied. He watched as you walked around, carefully taking in your surroundings. His room wasnât very interestingâ simple decorations that had already been placed before he took residence, various random books.Â
âWhere do you disappear to?â Azriel asked.Â
You turned to look at him, taking him in for the first time since you entered. It was still there, you noticed, the sense of calm on his face, the evidence of a serene ease. His eyes held a lightness that youâd seen grow since he first came to you. His shoulders were relaxed, his wings comfortably fanned out behind him in an open and unhurried sprawl.
To do your job, you thought. The duties of a Reaper. Visiting souls in distress, leading them to their peace swiftlyâ efficiently. Not staying with them, not keeping them company. No, those were things youâd reserved for Azriel. You only hoped that The Mother wasnât angry, that your affinity for him didnât disrupt a delicate balance.Â
âAs much as I enjoy our time together, I still have duties to fulfill,â You replied. âDid you miss me?â
You intended for it to be a joke, a lighthearted comment that would make him laughâ a melodic sound you had gotten used to recently, one that you savored and replayed in your mind. Yet Azrielâs eyes met yours with a serious gaze.Â
âYes,â He answered, his voice sincere. âI did.â
Something in your chest fluttered and your mouth parted, a pleasant shiver rolling through your body. There was a small heat that rose to your cheeks. For a moment, you looked at the floor, composing yourself before meeting his gaze again. A genuine smile graced your lips as you softly admitted, "I missed you, too."Â
A few moments later, you walked along Azriel as he shared stories about his home, his brothers, and the various experiences he'd had, absorbing each narrative with hungry ears. It was a beautiful thing to see, Azriel open and laughing, the smile on his lips as he recalled favorite memories. This house, The House of Wind as Azriel had called it, was filled with lifeâ his life. You could feel it everywhere as you walked. There was a small tug at your heart. He had a life. A beautiful, real life.Â
Eventually, you both stopped at a large window, the outside world spread before you in a breathtaking view. Azriel found his gaze dropping to the streets below, devoid of the usual bustling life he was used to. Faintly, a small ache hit the back of his head. He blinked it away. Then, he frowned slightly, a realization hitting him that he didnât enjoy seeing the streets emptyâ that something felt missing. He turned to look at you, brows furrowed.Â
"Do you ever get lonely?"Â
The question lingered in the air for a moment, stealing the air from your lungs. Why it seemed to strike, you couldnât tell, but it left a burn in its wake. You let out a deep breath as you looked up at Azriel.
âThe Mother blessed me with a duty that is fulfilling.â
Azriel looked at you, studying your response. A sense of sadness filled him, a gentle ache in his heart at the idea, at the image of you alone, wandering the empty streets. Softly, he spoke, "That's not what I asked."Â
A wave of emotion washed over you. There was a sanctity to your duties, to the job that you held. You were honored to help The Mother, to be the one that granted such peace. You never knew that you could feel such longing, such a desire to be someone else, something else, until you met Azriel the first time he crossed. And then the time after. And now.Â
 "Yes, Azriel,â you admitted, âI do.â
As you both stood in the quiet moment, the stunning view from the window still visible in your peripheral vision, you looked at Azriel. You took in his detailsâthe tousle of his hair, the gleam in his eyesâcommitting the scene to memory. This was an image you wanted to save forever, one of him so close, so connected.Â
Azriel broke the silence with another question, "Why do you do that? Say my name so often?"
You didnât realize that the frequency in which you used his name was noticeable. It rolled off your tongue so easily, so naturally. You thought about it for a moment, thought about the feeling you got before you said it.Â
"Would you prefer me to call you by something else?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as you observed Azriel's expressions. "Shadowsinger, or Spymaster?"
His response was immediate and he took a step forward as he spoke. "No," Azriel said, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I-I like it."
You smiled at him. "I suppose I do it to make sure you feel seen."Â
A flicker of confusion crossed Azriel's face, his brows knitting together. "Seen?"
"To show you that you're not just what you do," you explained, your voice carrying a quiet sincerity. Your words trailed off softly. A beat passed, and then you added, "At least not to me."Â
In his hundreds of years of life, Azriel was never seen. He had been perceived, observed, even known, but never truly seen. Not like the way you looked at him, the way you allowed him to breathe, allowed him to exist as nothing more than simply Azriel.Â
Your gaze held seemed to see beyond the layers he had meticulously built around himself for so long, beyond the titles and responsibilities that often defined him. For the first time, he felt a sense of vulnerability mingled with reliefâa feeling of being understood in a way he hadn't experienced before, in a way he never felt he deserved. A warmth spread through his body, starting from the pit of his stomach and radiating outward, enveloping him in a comforting embrace.Â
Without even realizing it, his hand moved towards you, lifting a strand of your hair and gently holding it between his scarred fingers. In the past, he would have hesitated to touch another person so intimately, but in this moment, there was no hesitation, no sense of reluctance, only a pull to you and you only. Was this part of what it meant to be a Reaper? He wondered, to cause such comfort in those you kept company? To make them feel like this?Â
He watched the way the strand of hair caught the light, twirling it between his fingers with a tenderness he had never known himself capable of. He met your eyes, slightly widened, observing him intently. With a soft smile, Azriel spoke, "I see you too, Y/n.â
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His view was filled with rolling hills, vibrant in green hues, a gentle afternoon sun in the sky. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of babbling brooks and streams, a soothing melody that seemed to blend seamlessly with the rustle of the wind through the grass, through the leaves of the trees that surrounded you. Azriel understood why Mor was so fond of her estate, why she ran off to it when she could. If it was surrounded with views like this, with such quiet life, beautiful life, he would escape to it, too. Beside him, you lay on the soft grass, your hair spread out around you like a halo.Â
Despite the open air, Azriel felt groggy, his eyelids heavier than theyâd felt in a while. Something felt strange, a trickling sense of anxiety within his body. The wind in his hair and the air on his arms, on his wings, didnât feel the sameâ it wasnât as lively, wasnât as strong. There was a sharp throb in the back of his head, sending a sudden wave of pain crashing over him. He grimaced and let out a low groan.
Instinctively, you jumped up at the sound, angling your body to face him, concern painting your features. Your heart dropped as you watched him bring a hand to the back of his head, brows furrowed in discomfort.
Amidst pained groans, Azriel turned to you with a frown. "Iâm sorry. I just- I keep having these horrible headaches.â
You let out a small breath.
"It's because you're healing," you murmured softly, your voice tinged with sorrow. Your gaze lingered on him, sadness flickering across your features. When Azrielâs eyes met yours, you quickly blinked away any evidence of it, calling forward a gentle, unassuming, face.Â
His hand dropped slowly from the back of his head. "I am?" he echoed.
You extended your hand, hovering it gently over the back of his head where his hand had been moments ago. "This is where you damaged your skull," you explained softly,. "The injury that got you... Well, here. With me." Your gaze swept around the tranquil surroundings, a small, bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Any progress in your physical body, you feel here too," you continued, your voice tender yet matter-of-fact. "The ache is calling you back."
"Back to my life," Azriel murmured, the words barely audible as they slipped from his lips, softening and fading before they fully formed.
You nodded, a lump in the back of your throat.Â
Azriel's expression shifted abruptly, a flash of tension replacing the settled calmness that had graced his face for quite some time now. "I don't want to go back," he said. It was a tone of voice youâd never heard from him before, a sense of desperation that didnât fit him.Â
 You shook your head gently. "You don't mean that.â
But Azriel remained resolute. Moving closer, he reached out, his hand coming to rest atop yours on your thigh. "I do," he insisted, his tone unwavering. âY/n, I do.â
âAzriel,â You said sternly. âYou have a life waiting for you, a long life.â
âBut Iâm so tired. All the time,Y/nâ he admitted, his voice heavy with weariness. âAnd this,â he gestured around him, his eyes lingering on the rolling green hills, "this is the most at peace Iâve ever felt."
You felt a selfish impulse, a desire to indulge in his fantasy, to urge him to stay, to fight against the inevitable pull back to reality. But you knew it wasn't fair, that it wasnât right. If you truly cared for someone, you had to be fair to them. And you cared for Azrielâ cared for him in a way youâd never felt before.Â
âBut itâs not real,â you interjected softly, leaning in, your brows furrowed, your forehead creased with concern. "This isnât a life.This isnât a realityâ this is an in-between. Sooner or later, you will find yourself on one end.â
Azriel couldnât understand. His heart hurt. Why werenât you agreeing with him? Why werenât you telling him to stay, convincing him it was worth it? This peace he felt with you, this quiet life you lived, he could stay. He would stay.Â
âYouâre real,â he whispered, his voice tinged with desperation. âAnd right now, this...â he trailed off, his gaze sweeping over your face, "this feels real to me.â
You took a deep breath, feeling knots tightening in your stomach, a lump forming in your throat. You swallowed down the words you wanted to say, replacing the ones on your tongue with those he needed to hear.Â
"I'm a Reaper," you said, reminding him of the inevitable separation it entailed. His eyes, a dark, almost sad brown, met yours. âReapers arenât meant to stay.â
The knots in your stomach were twisting now, weaving themselves through your ribs. It was hard for you to breathe, hard for you to look at Azriel as he stared at you with such clear hurt on his face. He couldnât stay. It wasnât natural. It wasnât the plan. Azriel was going to return to a life where he would not remember you, a life in which you didnât exist. And you would remain here, waiting in a form of existence that had no time.Â
"Your family misses you," you continued, your gaze unwavering as you locked eyes with him. The knots now wrapped around your heart, squeezing. "You still have things to do. They need you. You need them."
Surely your heart was about to burst, the pressure in your chest now overwhelmingâ crushing you, your heartbeat erratic.Â
âCome with me.â Azriel said.
You let out a small breath, a soft laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his suggestion. It sounded so simple, so easy, but you knew better. It wasn't that simple, life was never that easy. You were a Reaper. He was a soul. Before you could respond, Azriel continued, his voice still gentle but earnest.
"You'll love them. And you'll love Velaris when it is filled with people. With life."
His eyes bore into you, seemingly searching for something, trying to memorize every contour of your face, every flicker of emotion that danced across your features.Â
"I can't," you replied softly, your heart heavy with the weight of your duty. You shook your head again as you tightened your lips for a moment. "That's not how this works.â
Azriel's demeanor softened, a small breath of defeat escaping him as his wings drooped slightly. He took in everything you said, his gaze flickering down to where his hand still rested atop yours before meeting your eyes again.
"I donât want to leave you here," he said quietly.
Here, alone, he thought. It was true, everything was so beautiful in this form of existence. It was quiet, serene, and calm. The nights were beautiful, the days were glorious. But without you, it would have been empty. Void of life. He didnât want that for you, he couldnât bear the thought of leaving you in such a vast space. It felt wrong.Â
You recognized the concern in his eyes, realizing that his desperation stemmed from a place of caringâ caring for you. It struck a chord within you, stirring a bittersweet pang in your chest, right beside your rapidly beating, tied up heart. Somehow, knowing that he cared for you only made you care for him more, deepening the sorrow that lingered in you, the feeling that now coursed through your veins.Â
Tilting your head, you offered him a soft smile, a gesture of reassurance, you hoped. "Azriel," you said gently, your voice tinged with a warmth he had grown to love, "I'll be alright. I'm happy here. It's where I belong."
It wasnât all a lie. This was where you belonged, and you would be alright. But you werenât sure if youâd be happy. Happiness wasnât something you used to think of. You had a duty, a sacred, important duty, nothing else really matteredâ not yourself, not your desires, not your heart.Â
Azriel took in your answer, swallowing the urge to fight it, to convince you further. But the pleading in your eyes, coupled with the ache in his chest and the heaviness in his stomach, left him feeling defeated. With a resigned nod, he looked at you, his voice soft but determined.
"I'll find you," he whispered.
You blinked, caught off guard by the soft declaration.
"I'll find you," Azriel said again, his tone firmer, as if he were making a promise that he intended to keep.
You understood the sentiment behind his words, recognizing the determination in his eyes. You knew, without needing to discuss it, that as a skilled spymaster, he possessed the ability to find people. Yet, deep down, you also understood the inevitable truthâthat soon, he would forget you, forget the time you spent together. The thought caused a sharp ache in your heart, one you preferred not to dwell on.
So, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded and murmured, "Okay." And offered him a smile.Â
You sat there in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air around you. Breathing in the crisp, fresh air, you let the sounds of nature wash over you, grounding you in the present moment. Your gaze lingered on his face, committing every detail to memory, as if carving it into your very being. You wanted to remember this. Remember him, his touch, his care for you.Â
Azrielâthe shadowsinger, the spymaster, a skilled killer. And then there was youâthe servant of the Mother, a guide for souls, bound by duty and devotion. Death and his Reaper. What a poetic pair you made.
âč ⶠ𧷠â¶âčÂ
It was time.Â
You had been right, when you talked him down before, sitting on the beautiful green hill. Azriel had a life to return to, a family he missedâ a family that missed him. He didnât belong here, no matter how much he wished he could. He could feel it, nestled within his ribs, a deep pull to his body.Â
Azriel stood in the familiar confines of the River house, his gaze fixed on the bed where his physical form lay peacefully. He took in the sight of his body, now filled with color, vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the pale, lifeless form he had been when he first awoke.Â
A sense of disorientation washed over him as he realized he was back here, in this room, though he couldn't recall making the conscious decision to return. From behind him, he felt your presence, a familiar energy that always seemed to embrace him with a comfortable warmth, the sweet smell in his nose.
 "I didn't even realize I was coming here.â Azriel said.Â
Without turning, he heard your soft voice. "You never do," you replied simply, âYour body calls and you answer.â
Azriel nodded slowly, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He breathed out heavily. He longed to turn and look at you, to embrace your presence, trace the features of your face. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to confront the truth that lay before himâthat he wanted to go back, back to the land of the living, to his family, to embrace his life once more. But he wasn't ready for what he needed to do in order to returnâ wasnât ready to say goodbye to you.
âAzriel,â You said, as you gently placed your hand on his arm. He turned to look at you, his heart skipping a beat.The faelight cast a soft glow on your body, illuminating the delicate features of your face, dancing through your hair like shimmering strands of moonlight. And there it wasâthe small, reassuring smile that you had offered him so many times before. The smile you had given to him when he first woke up, afraid and alarmed, in the same place he stood now.Â
He couldn't help but feel a flicker of happiness at the sight of your gentle smile, but just as quickly as the feeling washed over him, it was replaced by a bittersweet pang of realization. The reality of why you were here, why you were looking at him with such tender affection, why he could barely feel your touchâ and why his head throbbed with searing pain. He glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping form, and then looked at you again.Â
âY/n, I-â
You gently shook your head, a soft shushing sound escaping your lips as you reached out to calm him. "It's okay," you reassured him, your voice gentle but firm. "You wonât feel a thing."
But Azriel shook his head too, his expression filled with concern as he took your hands in his. "That's not what I'm worried about," he admitted quietly.
You met his gaze, taking in every detail of his face, breathing in his scent. Your gaze drifted towards his wings, so beautiful, so powerful. And then you looked back at him.
"I'll be okay."Â
It was a promise, not just to him, but to yourself.
Azriel's senses dulled and the pain intensified, a sense of desperation washed over him. He thought back to your conversations earlier. He never figured out how time worked here, perhaps the conversation had been days ago, even weeks. But, to him, it felt like hours prior. Maybe a day, if he was being generous. Still, his mind raced with thoughts, with things he wanted to tell you, to ask of you, things that hadnât been there before. Ask me what you really want to, Azriel, you had said, so he did.
âAm I worthy?â His voice rang out, unsure, afraidâ of the answer, of what the question meant. âAm I worthy of this life? Is⊠is it worth it?â
You smiled. A broad, bright, and kind smile.Â
You felt Azriel's hands tremble slightly in yours, guiding them to your lips. With tender reverence, you pressed a small, tender kiss upon his scarred flesh. âYes,â you whispered, âIf only you knew.â
You understood now, why The Mother always urged for a swift journey. You werenât supposed to spend such intimate times with your souls, you werenât supposed to grow comfortable in their presence, to learn about their favorite candies and the way their mothers smelled. You werenât supposed to because it distracted you from your dutyâ and more importantly, you werenât supposed to because it prevented you from the heartache you felt now. A piercing pain in your chest, a heaviness in your stomach.Â
You lifted a hand and gently placed it on his cheek. The warmth of your touch radiated through his body, sending a wave of indescribable sensation coursing through him. The world seemed to blur around him, the ringing in his ears drowning out all other sound. He squinted against the growing brightness, his head throbbing with a relentless ache. He heard your voice, soft like honey, sweet like tea, whispering in his ear in perfect clarity.Â
âGoodbye, Azriel.â
âč ⶠ𧷠â¶âčÂ
Azriel jolted upright, his body propelled by a surge of adrenaline that left him momentarily breathless. With a deep inhale, he struggled to steady his racing heart, his surroundings swimming into focus with agonizing slowness.
Each detail of the room seemed to materialize before him in excruciating detail, from the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the window to the faint murmur of voices drifting from the doorway. His hand instinctively went to the back of his head, a gesture born of instinct rather than any physical discomfort. Confusion furrowed his brow as he tried to recall why he had woken with such a start, where he currently was, why he laid on a bare bed, but the memory seemed frustratingly out of reachâ blurry and unfocused.Â
As Azriel's eyes adjusted to the soft light filtering through the room, the door creaked open, a distant sound barely registering in his slow mind. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, a blur of motion filled his vision and Cassian was upon him, bounding forward with a crushing embrace. "There's my boy!"Â
With a startled gasp, Azriel felt the air rush out of his lungs as Cassian's hug engulfed him, the force of the impact momentarily disorienting him further than he already was. A small, involuntary soundâa mixture of surprise and amusementâescaped his lips as he tried to regain his bearings. Azriel's gaze flickered past Cassianâs broad shoulders, to where Rhysand stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and amusement.
"Okay, Cass," Rhysand said, walking towards the bed. "Let him breathe. We donât want to give him another head injury."
Cassian released Azriel from his enthusiastic embrace, though a joyous gleam danced in his eyes as he stepped back, offering Azriel a sheepish grin. "My bad," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment, âI just missed ya.âÂ
Rhysand stood casually, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. "If you were seeking attention, Az, you could've simply asked," he said with a wave of his hand. "No need to resort to dying for it."
The comment elicited a shocked blink from Azriel, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I- What?" he echoed. A few of his shadows slithered up his arms, wrapping themselves across his shoulders, the cool trail of them relieving tension in his upper body.Â
Rhysand let out a small laugh as he clapped him on the shoulder with a reassuring grin. "You have a lot of catching up to do, brother," Rhysand remarked, âLet's get you back to the land of the living.â
Azriel offered a small, uncertain laugh in response, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a hesitant smile, his mind still cloudy, disoriented. Rhysand and Cassian began talking, referring to him, attempting to fill Azriel in, but he wasnât paying attention, their voices blending into a distant hum.
Instead, Azriel's attention was drawn to an inexplicable warmth on his cheek. Instinctively, he lifted his hand and gently touched the spot, feeling the comforting heat beneath his fingertips. He frowned, trying to make sense of the sensation, but the warmth seemed to soothe his lingering disorientation, grounding him in the present moment with a sense ofâŠease.Â
Azriel's attention shifted towards the corner of the room, where a soft beam of sunlight filtered through the window. A handful of his shadows floated and twirled, their graceful movements dancing within the warm glow. He smiled, tilting his head at the sight, his hand still on his cheek. What a beautiful sight, Azriel thought. And then he was turning his attention back to his brothers, a wide smile now on his cheeks.Â
âč ⶠ𧷠â¶âčÂ
y'all... imagine meeting ur soulmate but u can only see her when ur dead and cant remember her otherwise lol sucks for azriel.
#azriel#azriel fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#acotarfandom#acotar fanfiction#acotar fanfic#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#azriel/reader#azriel x you#azriel fic#azriel fanfic#azriel one shot#acotar oneshot
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Not sure if this is where we can send in requests but you write so beautifully I truly cannot get over it.
Would it be possible to request a smut fic with Viktor from Arcane? Either way cannot wait to read your next fics đ©”
You really found the way to my heart with your kind words because I immediately had to write something for youđ„č I intended for it to be shorter, but it got away from me. I hope you like it!
Keeping Him Company
Pairings: Viktor x f!reader
MDNI/NSFW
Masterlist
Summary: Viktor is still getting used to solitude after Jayce started down the public road.
So when you offer to keep him company, he gladly takes you up on it.
Wordcount: 3k
Warnings: fluff, angst ish, friends to lovers, pinv sex, cowgirl, oral sex (f receiving), feelings, plot with porn.
AN: Viktor is not a shy man, and I will die on that hillđ
"Dont you wish to be up there with him?"
Light spilled through a gap in the tall curtains, partly illuminating a man in hiding.
"It is not my within my talent," he said and slanted his lips, a thick accent curving his pronunciation.
The girl approached him, walking along the shadows edge. She was clad in a red and white ensamble, mirroring his own. "Everything is within your talent."
Casting a wistful glance at his leg, he doubted her words. "A simple misscalculation, im afraid. He shines, I do not . . ."
Booming from mighty speakers was the man of progress, holding a speech in front of thousands of people. The brief breaks to collect his breath allowed for them to hear the audience's reaction, and the collective whispers of expectant folk rolled through the crowd in waves.
She stopped next to him, hands clasped infront of her. "You're uninterested in the attention." She pitched her voice at the end, framing the statement as a question. Suspecting she already knew the answer.
"I do not enjoy it," he shrugged. "I prefer the practical part of our work."
"The solitude?"
He looked up at her, having had to sit down at some point during their conversation. The promise of dark circles had begun taking form beneath his eyes, painting a tired look onto his face.
"Hmm . . . The quiet if anything, I think. I've found myself in solitude more often than not since Jayce started handling the . . . public aspects," he explained and gestured broadly with one hand, encompassing the local. The entirety Piltover too, she imagined.
"You're happy with that?"
Bobbing his head from side to side, he could not agree nor disagree. "I like quiet, but I prefer the company. Jayce makes good company."
"Well," she began and reached out to him, pinching a piece of wild hair between her fingertips and arranged it back into shape with the rest of his dark waves. "If you find yourself in unwanted solitude, you can always send for me, Viktor. If nothing else, I might be able to help in the lab," she smiled. It was her specialty, after all.
They'd been friends since they enrolled in the academy, but learning under Heimerdinger rarely allowed them time to see eachother.
Straightening his cane, he heaved himself back on his feet.
She would offer him help, but knew it wouldn't be too appreciated.
Leaning on the support, the stream of light escaping the stage colored his face and set it aglow with warmth. "Thank you, . . ." he called her name and smiled. "I might do that."
He was a strong mind in a blighted body. The brightest often were.
-
It was late the next day when she'd gotten a message from Viktor.
Pushing the tall door open, the setting sun painted the spacious workroom in a dim golden light. On first inspection, one could've thought it abandoned. Books were strewn on every available surface, opened or stacked. Dust had already managed to settle on a few, and she guessed that they'd been deemed irrelevant to the two men's work at some point, then simply forgotten to time and unpaced space. "Viktor?" She called out.
"Over here," a thick accent answered. Venturing further inside, she found him by the colossal windows that held a view Piltover. To the side was a blackboard with rows upon rows of calculations. "Please, take a seat." He smiled and gestured toward one of the few chairs that were free of piling notes. "I'd like to show you what I have been working on."
-
And so the evening spilled into dusk, and dusk poured into night. There was nothing now but the dark sky and starlight illuminating the two of them.
"It is not correct," he tapped the chalk against the board and sighed, highlighting a specific problem to her eyes. He'd asked for her thoughts at some point, and ever since the two had been going back and forth trying to solve one particularly stubborn equation.
Settling down on the chair that she had long abandoned, Viktor wrapped his hands over the cane's handle and rested his chin on top. Exhausted eyes studied the same scribbles he'd gone over and over a hundred times before.
In unisome, they sighed.
Knowing glances were thrown each other's way, luring a chuckle from the both of them and gratefully releasing some of their tension. "Thank you, for lending me your mind this evening."
Pursing her lips, she moved in front of him and settled against the worktable. He was still facing the board, pondering the solution, and allowing her to look at him unabashedly. The strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, that pretty little mole above his lip and his perfectly half-wild hair. "I had a good time," she shrugged. "I should be the one thanking you." Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on that angled cheekbone of his. "So, thank you, Viktor," she murmured.
Pushing herself to her feet, she reached out to grab her things, then moved to leave.
But a hand grabbed her wrist before she had the chance. "Thank you for keeping me company, . . ." Viktor said, voice sliding lower with each word until her name spilled from his lips in a whisper.
Her eyes switched between his, attempting to determine if there was an ulterior meaning his words. Looking down at their hands, she noticed his thumb stroking the thin skin at her wrist. Clearing her throat, she swallowed. "You didn't invite me here just to theorise, did you, Viktor?"
He followed her gaze and inspected the hand he held in his. "I like the quiet," he said, gently toying with her fingers. Running along their length, he absentmindedly bent and straightened them as he carefully thought about the next words to leave his lips. "But it seems, I prefer you." His fingers slid between her own, lacing them together.
Stepping closer to him, she cupped the sharp angles of his cheek. Giving him no other choice then to look up at her with those big, rounded eyes. "Are you telling me I'm loud?" She teased.
"No," Viktor smirked and let his cane slip to the floor, prioritising holding her hips. "But I would like to find out." He put pressure behind his hands, pushing her back onto the tabletop behind her. "Take those off, please." He nodded his chin at her suitpants, then leaned back in his chair.
Smiling, she did as asked and a little bit more, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.
His eyes trailed over her body, along the curves of her breasts and lace covered mound. Without a word, he moved the chair to face her, hands sliding up her calfs until they hooked beneath her knees and pulled her to the edge of the table.
"Viktor, you don't have to-" she began, rather putting in work for both of them so he could avoid further strain on his body.
But desperate to be of use, to do it himself, he insisted. "I want to," he assured, wrapping a hand around the back of her thigh and squeezed. "Please . . . Let me."
Hesitantly, she nodded her head in compact motions. Willing to please him, but needing him to please her more.
Placing one hand behind her, she braced her weight against the table while her other hand brushed stray strands from his eyes. Combing it back, she burried her fingers in his thick waves. "Okay," she whispered.
What followed was a satisfied smirk and an eager lips trailing kisses along her inner thigh. He made quick work of her panties, then paused. Looking up, brown irises locked with her own as he hovered an inch from her heat. Then suddenly burried his face between her thighs before she'd gotten a second to breathe.
"Fuck-" she moaned, head falling back in bliss as Viktor worked his glorious wonders. An experienced tongue thrust into her core and lapped at her wetness, closing his eyes and humming throughout as if tasting heaven itself. "You taste very sweet, darling," he murmured against her, damp breath fanning against her core and sending shivers up her spine, doing nothing but further spurr her arousal on.
Sinking his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh, he looked up at her, finding the entire city at her back, framing her exalted form. Behind her quivering shoulders ran the horizon, the night sky painting her into a saint as it formed like a halo around her head. Watching her heaving chest and panthing mouth was enough to make a man believe in powers greater than science.
And he wouldnt relent, when seeing the reaction his mere tongue could cause. He couldn't give her mercy, and he could not give her another second to collect herself lest her climax strayed too far away.
Without warning, he slid his tongue up her folds, collecting her arousal only to swallow with groan. Before she could gasp, he'd already slipped back between her thighs. Aternating between soft kisses and gentle nipping, he turned her into a whimpering mess. In a final act, he latched onto her clit, sucking and circling with fervour. Tears of pleasure rolled down her cheeks as her fingers curled into a fist, pulling on his hair as she held on for dear life.
But all he did was whine from her taste and the pressure on his scalp, whine from the growing unpleasantry in his pants as he devoured his dinner and licked his plate clean. "Pretty," he murmued, and she opened her eyes to look at him.
One quivering body- and an arched back later, she laid back against the tabletop, fighting hard to catch her breath.
Looking back, she glimpsed Piltover. She saw thousands of lights illuminating homes, she saw the sky and the glimmering stars. But she couldn't be sure if it was reality or hallucinations of eyes recovering from a tumultuous orgasm.
Moving up, she braced on her forearms, surveying Viktor's own state. He'd circled his arms around her calves and laid his head in the valley between her thighs, kissing and whispering sweet nothings against her skin. Thumbs stroked soothing circles into her plush flesh whenever his mind reminded him. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed her. "Thank you," he repeated over and over again.
"Thank me when we're done," she exhaled, adoring the way his reaction to making her come was gratitude, for letting him bring her to completion. "Chair or bed?" She asked, already planning their next endeavour. "I want to please you too."
Blinking, he considered. An uncertain smile twitching in the corner of his lips. "Our rooms are far," he murmured, glancing down at his leg. Self-consciousness was never something he displayed, never did he complain or bring it up. In his mind, he wanted to prove that there was nothing wrong with him, that he could withstand and surpass.
Although she understood, although she empathized with him, she did not see the need. A dent in a machine did not change its capability, but it could bump the risk of deterioration. "We all need help sometimes, Viktor," she combed through his hair, scratching and brushing his scalp in turns. Sliding a finger down his face, she placed it beneath his chin, tilting his face to meet hers. "Some hardships are more visible than others, but that should not affect the view people have of you. It certainly won't affect mine," she whispered and brushed her thumb along his upper lip, fingertip gently dotting the mole above, and then followed his cheekbone up to his temble. "But, it's your decision, whatever you're comfortable with," she assured, rubbing circles into his temple.
Burrying his face in her thigh, he sighed and nodded, untamed hair scratching her skin pleasantly. "Yes." Viktor sat back and reached for her hands, clasping them in his own. "My room it is," he smiled and kissed up her knuckles, palm and wrist.
-
She'd never been sure if the professor's assistant got a fancier room then the other students. But standing inside it, she could confirm it was bigger at the very least.
"We were outside of the workshop when miss Medarda found us," Viktor explained as he closed the door behind them.
"No! What did she say?" She snickered, eager to hear the following as shd vetured into his room, examining some of the knicks and knacks he had laying around.
Leaning on his cane, he scrathed his chin. "I do not remember," he said, and then a blush rose to his cheeks, staining them a pretty, pale red. "I believe I paniced and told the councillor that I had gotten the rooms wrong."
Raising an eyebrow, she sauntered back to him, already questioning how the story would end. "And which room was that?" She asked, toying with his collar.
Viktor cleared his throat. "Jayce's," he chuckled, thumb rubbing the handle of his cane. "Miss Medarda had little trust in my excuse."
Her lips pulled into a thin line as she met his eyes, making a worthy attempt at with-holding her laughter. "At least it turned out well in the end," she managed, fingers working to unlace his west as she backed toward the bed, pulling him with her.
"Yes," he said and re-removed her shirt, getting the satisfaction of pulling it over her head this time. "I would like to think so."
Sliding his west down his shoulders, she began unbuttoning the red fabric beneath, where she found another piece of his engineering. She traced the clever contraption with wonder. Softly admiring the skill and ingenuity he'd put into it.
Looking up to ask him about it, she found his expression close to discomfort. He looked vulnerable, like it was a piece of himself he rarely showed anyone else unless he had to.
Smiling softly, she met his gaze with a slanted head. "It's crafted brilliantly," she recognized his hard work while studying the detailing. "It's a-"
"Brace." There was note of resignation in his tone. "My back, it is . . ." He trailed off, looking away.
She sighed silently, hating that he couldn't see his own beauty the way she did. "It's beautiful, Viktor. Truly. It suits you." She ran a finger along the strap over his shoulder. "We can keep the shirt if you'd prefer it."
"No," he said and began taking the shirt off, struggling as he only had one available hand. Sensing irritation, she cupped his jaw, gathering his attention. She watched his face soften, honoured by his trust in her. Then brushed her hands down his throat and shoulders, tracing his collarbone before sliding over his shoulders and beanth the fabric, helping it fall to the floor. Viktor turned them around and moved onto to bed without another word.
She smiled to herself, instantly shy by his sudden confidence. Crawling after him, she straddled his lap, careful not to put too much weight on his leg.
"I am not ready, to . . . Remove the other, yet," he murmured, no longer as resigned when talking about his condition. "I am afraid the pants must stay on, for the moment."
"Thats okay," she nodded softly, connecting their foreheads. "I don't mind." She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his skin beneath her palms. She brushed them down his arms until she found his hands and laced them together with her own, and her lips inched closer to his.
For a while, they settled in this new position. Simply enjoying the moment of newfound feelings and fragility, inhaling one another's scent and sharing the air between them.
Viktor tilted his head to the side, moving closer until their mouths were ghosts upon the other. With parted lips, he crept ever closer, patiently testing the waters. Then, softly, they closed around her bottom lip. With a unified exhale, she kissed him back. She could very faintly taste herself on him.
Together, they could focus on nothing but the softness of the other and the frequency of their breaths. When their lust filled lungs could no longer expell air through their mouths, their noses had to take up the slack. Somehow, adding on to the intimacy between them. In this second in time, they were two souls with lungs filling of emotion, ramping up the speed in which they needed to act.
With no other way for the feelings to go, the eagerness in their lips had to carry them out.
Laced together, she moved his hands to her body, giving him free range to wander while her own traveled downward and found the buttons of his pants. "Is this still alright?" She murmured in-between kisses.
"Yes, please," he answered, his own hands undoing her bra. Then there suddenly was the sound of skin on skin as he slid his hands back around her ribs and cupped her breasts.
With a gasp from his touch, she got the buttons open. Reaching down, she pulled his member out.
He'd been fully hard since they'd left the workshop, and intending to finally put him out of his misery, she spread the pre-cum leaking from his tip and circled it gently. Earning her a soft whimper.
Placing one hand on his chest, she lined him up with the other. Pushing him back against the bed and quickly followed suit herself, wetting the tip in her core.
"Please," he begged, hands moving to cup her face, pulling her back for another kiss. "Please." He introduced their tongues and let them explore each other's mouths. Finally, she carefully slid down his length. Resulting in a shprt break from their kiss through the unisome gasp.
As she began to move, to rut her her hips into his. The kiss became needier and needier until their teeth were clashing and breathing rapid.
She angled her hips so her clit could be stimulated against his mound. She released a breathless whimper at the sensation, but earned a twitch from the member inside her and a grin from the man beneath her. "Glorious woman," he moaned, moving to kiss her jaw and neck. His hands slipping from her face to her hips and ass, squeezing and encouraging her ruts with help from his wrists.
From the several points of pleasure he made for her, she was already closing in on her second orgasm. Straightening up, she put both hands on his chest and used him as support to move in longer bounds around his inches. "That alright?" She asked, imagining nothing worse than to cause him
"Yes, y-yes. Mmh . . . M' close," he managed. Observing her on top of him did nothing to ease the matter, and he hissed from what his thoughts of her alone could muster.
Grinding down harder, jolts of electricity shot through her body. Their combined sounds of pleasure along with the sensations they caused had them both close to their limit.
Closing her eyes, the night sky began forming beneath her eyeslids. Her entire body felt much the same, static sizzled in every nerve as the pressure came close to releasing.
"Look at me," Viktor said with a breathless voice. Fingers clawing at her back and waist with a non existent sharpness.
Taking a deep breath she closed the distance between them once again, and opened her eyes.
This time, she could see the stars reflected in his eyes. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, bringing her head against his, and allowed their lips to meet one last time before they spilled over the edge. Viktor quite literally, as he filled her up with his seed.
With no strength left in her body, she collapsed. Yet, still taking care to place her weight on her side rather than his torso, along with her legs settling between his rather than on top.
"Thank you," he whispered, lips finding her temple as she rested next to him. "For keeping me company."
"It was my pleasure, Viktor," she chuckled. "I hope we can do it again."
"Yes, I would like that," he nodded. "I really care for you, . . ." He whispered her name. "I think, perhaps-"
"I care for you too," she stopped him. "Let's let things happen in their own time, okay?"
"Okey," he smiled, scratching her nape.
As their euphoria began wearing of and sleep caught up, her mind could not settle. "Viktor," she murmured.
"Mmh?" He answered, already drowsing of.
"I maybe think so, too."
#arcane#viktor arcane#viktor smut#viktor x reader#viktor x you#viktor x female reader#arcane smut#viktor fanfiction#viktor imagine
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Handlebars
Day 1:
My first day of college was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be. I finally made it to residence last night, which only gave me one night to get settled before classes started. I was nervous to meet my roommate because of all of the horror stories I had heard about them in the past, but it ended up being so much worse than I expected. In my mind, the worst outcome was some lazy douche who never cleaned up after himself. So you can imagine my shock when I knock on the door and a full grown 30 something year old man answers the door.
"Hey, buddy. The names Mike, come on in."
He looked and sounded like a jock in a college movie, but when the actor is actually 30. His voice was deep and buttery, it almost gave me butterflies. I just smiled awkwardly and walked past him through the door.
"I'm Oscar by the way." I introduced myself.
"Cool, I'll just call you Handlebars." He said, without a care in the world.
He sat down on his bed, and that was the extent of our interactions for the day.
Day 7:
It's been a week and all my other worries about roommates came true. Not only is he 15 years older than me, he's a slob. He gets home from the gym drenched in sweat and throws his gym clothes wherever without cleaning them. He doesn't do his dishes, or any chore for that matter. In fact it seems like he intentionally keeps the place dirty after I try to clean it. And whatever musky cologne he wears attacks my nose every time I open the door, it feels like the smell seeps into everything, including my clothes.
The few times that he actually wants a chore to be done, he just asks me to do it, or rather he just tells me to do it. Normally I would be happy to tell him to go fuck himself, but I always find myself doing whatever he asks. I hate it.
"Yo Handlebars, be a doll and clean the dishes for me."
"Yo Handlebars, I ran out of clean gym clothes, mind running em down to the laundry for me."
It's like he's casting a spell whenever he talks.
Day 15:
I've started to settle into routine. The things that used to bother me about Mike seem a bit more trivial now. We've even started to become pretty close. I get enthralled by his conversations about business. He goes on and on about his father's enterprises, and how they'll be his soon.
I even started going to the gym with him lately. He lent me some of his gym clothes, even if they're way too big. It just made me appreciate him more. I never really clocked how jacked he was, sometimes he goes to the gym shirtless and it shows off his massive pecs and thick biceps.
Since joining him, I've noticed my body has improved quite significantly. I used to be skinny and lanky, but there is definition starting to show throughout my body.
Day 30:
Just a month into school and I was already on my way to failing out. I just don't care about it anymore, but Mike gave me a solution. He said I could just switch programs and do business with him, and his dad would even pay for it. How could I pass that up.
Now that I've switched, it's like all stress in my life has disappeared. Business is so easy, and now I have more time with Mike. We usually have a routine of going to the gym after our last class of the day.
"Yo Handlebars, you're lookin strong man. I'd kill to grow as fast as you."
He shouted at me from across the gym, when he caught me staring at myself in the mirror. Butterflies flew through my stomach when he said that. And he wasn't wrong, I've been noticing a lot of changes in my body. My face has matured, my eyebrows are thicker, my nose is bigger, and my jawline is more square. I even have to shave now, when I never had to before college. A five o'clock shadow engulfs my face by the end of the day, especially above my lip. The rest of my body has gotten hairier too, especially around my pecs, arms, and legs. And that's not even mentioning my progress at the gym. I actually look like I belong there, my biceps have a nice roundness to them and my chest actually sticks out from my body. Those gym clothes that Mike gave me look smaller and smaller every day.
Life in the dorms has also been a dream. I've been wearing that cologne that Mike loves, and it's like I unlocked a whole new level of confidence. People seem to love listening to me talk, and people seem to respect me more.
Day 60:
This past month has been the best month of my life. Now that I'm in my mid twenties, I can drink whenever I want. Mike and I go out raves and frat parties basically every night, my body is basically used to every drug at this point. And with Mike's dad paying for college, I literally don't need to show up to lectures and I get straight A's.
"Fuck, bro. I think you're bigger than me Handlebars."
Mike said with a shocked face when we were snapping pics at the gym. We flexed beside each other, and it was obvious. My biceps dwarfed his, and his gym clothes had become really tight on me lately. The shirt was skin tight against my upper body, showing off my juicy pecs and my growing six pack. And the shorts looked like they were about to burst under the pressure of my ass cheeks and thighs, to the point that the outline of my dick was constantly visible.
"Here bro, take this."
Mike handed me a package. It was filled with gym clothes and jocks.
"Just for you Handlebars."
I yanked him in for a bro hug, I could feel myself blushing.
"You got this all for me bro?"
"Fuck yeah, man. You've been grinding it out in the gym, don't think I haven't noticed my clothes straining against those muscles. And you need something to contain that snake in your pants before we get campus security called on us."
Mike chuckled, his laugh was infectious.
Day 100:
I started in the mirror. Sometimes I barely recognize myself. The confident and cocky mask goes away when I'm alone, just leaving the caring gym bro that's on the true inside.
Damn, I think to myself, Mike is making me too sappy. I give myself a cocky smile after shaving my face, leaving me with a thick moustache. I flex, admiring my guns and bouncing my pecs. Man I look good for a man pushing his thirties.
"Fuck, handlebars. Since when were you so hairy?" Mike asked me when I left the bathroom.
"What? Are you jealous I'm manlier than you bro?" I taunted him by opening my button up wider, revealing the thick pelt of hair that covered my body.
"Nah, it's got me feelin something tho." He smirked at me.
"Hah, I fuckin knew it. You want a piece of this." I bounced my pecs.
"Don't make it gay bro, it's not like that. Just a dude admiring another dude." He blushed.
The tension between us had been building for weeks. He would stand too close when spotting me at the gym, and I'd catch him staring at me in the mirror. Not like I haven't been doin it too. We also wear less clothes around the dorm. I still got that jock strap Mike gave me a while back, I'd be lying to myself if I said it fit but I don't care, and it seems like Mike doesn't mind either. And sometimes I wear an open button up just cuz it makes my pecs pop.
Day 120:
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Mike whispered in my ear. His breath was heavy as he threw me against the wall. His dick was bouncing with excitement against my ass.
For context, a few hours ago we were at the gym like normal. At this point, we didn't even go to class, it was just gym and parties now. The tension had been growing at the gym forever, sometimes we'd release by foolin around in the showers, but it never went further a quick handjob when no one was lookin. It was different this time, he couldn't keep his hands off me. Broad daylight in a busy gym, his hands would be far down my shorts, teasing.
At first I was dismissive. We already got caught multiple times by campus security, so close to getting kicked out of school. If it wasn't for Mike's dad being a rich alumni, I think both of us would be long gone by now. But he knew how to push my buttons, he always has. I gave in, but had the decency to drag him by the collar to the showers. At least there we could be naked.
Ok, back to the point. I grunted as his thick arms held me in place. Mike had been working extra hard to catch up to me, and it was showin. It turned me on, feelin his muscled forearms against my shoulders. But I wasn't gonna let him win that easily. What Mike seemed to forget was the near decade I spent in the Navy before comin to college.
I whipped around, using the hot water against our skin to slip out from his pin. I pushed his shoulder, sending him tripping over my foot, which I had conveniently placed behind his. I caught him like a damsel in distress, so there was no doubt in his mind who was on top.
Within seconds, it's like my training kicked in and I had him pinned down on his stomach. The bristles of my thick mustache rubbed against the back of his ear as I whispered, "You really thought you could top me?" I asked with a chuckle.
He moaned like a twink when I stuck my cock up his ass. It took a moment for his ass to adjust to takin a beatin rather than dishin one out, but he'll get used to it. The wet fur on my forearm slid across his back as I rode him like a bull. I could almost feel his organs rearrangin to fit my 10 inch rod.
I groaned as I felt months of sexual tension release in seconds, shooting my seed all through Mike's body. He was mine. And by the looks of it, he enjoyed the ride too. A trail of his cum ran from under his pinned body, to the drain in the middle of the showers.
"You're mine."
I whispered in his ear with a shit eatin grin.
"Now clean this mess up before you dare come back to my dorm."
I pushed off his back to get to my feet. I continued rubbing my cock as I walked away, making ropes of cum cover the showers. I walked right out of the showers and into the locker room, making sure to wink at campus security on the way out. Someone always calls them, and we always get away with it Scott free, so I think they gave up. It just feels good to make people know they're beneath you, and to do it while rubbin one out.
I cleaned up and walked alone to my dorm, sat on my couch, and waited for Mike to come back. After a few minutes, he walked in without a word. He walked over to me and laid in my lap as I turned on football. I smelled his hair, making sure he actually cleaned up like I ordered.
"Good boy." I reassured him while massaging his pecs.
Day 150:
I finally moved our stuff out of my shitty dorm. Mikey's father just decided to pay for our diplomas outright, instead of trying to turn all of our F's into A's.
We moved to L.A. and I fuckin love it here. I just walk around in nothin but a jock, and people love me for it. And there are so many entrepreneurs like me, so much money to be made.
Everyone just calls me handlebars, I can't remember the last time anyone called me my name. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember what it was, but who the fuck cares. I'm handlebars, the life of the party and the best fuck in this city.
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