#master shake plush

[thijstachio]

Finally got my hands on this rare Kidz Kraze Master Shake keychain plush!

[plushoftheday27]

💗Today's plush of the day is Master Shake from Aqua Teen Hunger Force!💗

He might be a jerk but his a lovable jerk lol

There were multiple different versions of this plush including Frylock and Meatwad.

[coolpersonrei]

my current shake cos bcuz con is in two dayz,,,thinking about putting more stuff in the bag so i wont get bored..im also excited to see dana!!

[cowcat-with-a-hat]

Plushie of the baby girl himself shake zula the mike rula the old schoola

Also frylock and meatwad plushiez will be made soon

[chris-hallelujah]

Have You Ever Tried This One? pt. 2 | m.s.

Part One Here!

Warnings: foul language, oral (m and f receiving), alcohol usage

Word Count: 1.8k words

My Master List

Join my tag list : @matthewsroses @lvrsturniolo @sturnzsblog @nickgurl4life

Enter my giveaway!! (closes 11/15)

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: Thank you all for the love on part one! I was not expecting it to get the attention it did. Thank you again @delilahsturniolo for the inspo and letting me make your idea my own. I'm sorry if it feels rushed -- I knew you all were waiting for this so I tried to hurry!!

<3 - Billie

The lights in the arena darkened and you disappeared from the view of the crowd's view. "Goodnight Boston, I'll see you soon!" You called into the mic before handing it off to someone on stage crew. Your manager handed you a water bottle which you gladly took. Making your way back to your dressing room, she fussed over your hair and outfit.

"There are a few journalists who want to speak with you and those boys you invited backstage," she said powdering your face. You waved her off.

"I just got done with a concert, they can deal with a little bit of imperfection," you laughed walking out of your dressing room. In the lobby area backstage you saw the triplets with Chris' girlfriend standing against a wall. You waved at them to acknowledge them quickly before you had to deal with the few journalists. After about 10 minutes of interviews and answering questions, you were finally free. You sauntered over to the group with a smile. "Hi! I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting! I'm Billie, it is so nice to meet you all," You exclaimed shaking each of their hands as they introduced themselves. Your hand lingered connected to Matt's for a few seconds longer than the others. He was quiet, shy as you all conversed. Chris and Nick did most of the talking. "I've seen some of your videos. You guys are hilarious," you smiled looking across all of them but then locking eyes with Matt.

"Y-you've seen our videos?" he asked surprised, earning a nod from you.

"I have and I'm really honored you all came tonight. I hope you enjoyed the show." You all chatted for a bit before your manager passed by giving you a look to wrap it up. "It was great to get to meet you all. And, Matt, if you're up for it, I'd love to chat more." You flashed him a confident smile and handed him a paper with your number on it. He took it with a shaky hand, staring at it wide eyed.

"Yea, no, that - yea sounds good," he blurt out earning a laugh from his brothers.

"You might have broke him," Nick teased.

After you all parted ways you made your way back to your hotel room. The hot shower water ran down your body as you felt your muscles relax. The plush bathrobe hugged your body as you climbed out of the shower and, as if on cue, your phone buzzed.

Hey, you put on a great show tonight. Thanks for the handcuffs. Now I just need to put them to use ;)

You're too sweet and a bit more bold when your brothers aren't around to tease you

They're a piece of work lol when can I see you again?

I'm at the four seasons room 311

Matt stared at his phone in shock. He never would have expected you to just give him the information for your hotel room. He quietly snuck out of his bedroom, not wanting to have to deal with telling Nick and Chris that he was going to see you.

You quickly freshened up, enough to look cute but not too much that you looked desperate. About 15 minutes later there was a knock at your hotel room door. Matt's face greeted you as you opened it. He was leaning against the wall with a slight smirk. You could already tell that he was a different Matt than you'd met earlier. "Hey, pretty girl," he spoke smoothly.

A slight blush crept your cheeks as you moved aside to let him in. You took in his all black outfit, noting how nice it looked on him. "Hi Matt," you smiled. Matt looked around, taking in the fancy hotel suite you were in.

"Nice place you got here. All of your tour stops this fancy?" he asked sitting down on the sofa.

You laughed a bit, "I try and make them feel like home a bit. Traveling so much can be exhausting and it's nice to come back to a hotel room that has all that I need in it." Shuffling through the mini fridge, you pulled out some wine. "You want some?" He nodded leading you to pour two glasses. You took a spot next to him on the sofa, not leaving much room between you, but enough for it to not be awkward. "So, tell me about you. What do I need to know about Matt Sturniolo?" you asked.

He took a sip of the wine before turning fully to face you, "Well, as you know I'm a triplet. I'm the middle one. We've been doing YouTube since-"

You cut him off shaking your head. "I don't want to know about your brothers. Tell me about you." This caused Matt's head to spin. He wasn't used to people only wanting to learn about him. People always loved Chris for his looks and Nick for his humor, but sometimes Matt felt swept under the rug. ((I'm crying writing this))

A smile on his face, he took a different approach, "Okay well, I really like nature. I feel so at peace when I'm outside. I also used to be really into reading. Fell outta that for a while, but I'm starting to pick it up again." The two of you chatted getting to know each other and finishing the bottle of wine quicker than either of you had planned.

It had been an hour of just drinking and talking and before you knew it your legs were draped over his lap, hands in his hair. He had his lips attached to yours as he held your hips. You weren't quite sure how you got there, but you weren't complaining. Matt pulled away slightly, earning a whine from you. Both of you breathing heavily, he leaned his forehead against yours. "You sure about this, miss popstar?" he said, teasing you slightly. You giggled and nodded, placing your lips on his neck. He groaned, tilting his head back to give you more access. You trailed down his jawline, then his neck, and to his collarbone leaving bites and kisses in your path. A flash of pink covered your eyes as Matt tugged your shirt off over your head and tossed it to meet his on the floor. He picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. Something caught your eye, peeking out of his back pocket. Something pink. With fur? Oh my god.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you tugged the fuzzy pink handcuffs you had gifted him at the concert out of his back pocket. "I see you wanted to break in your gift," you smirked, twirling them on your finger. He chuckled snatching them from you and tossing them to the side.

"Don't worry, pretty girl, they'll get used soon," he winked. His pants hit the floor and your eyes trailed down his body. Before you knew it, you found yourself on your knees in front of him. "Such a good girl. Didn't even have to tell you," he smirked. You were practically drooling at the sight of him. Your hand wrapped around his length causing him to hiss slightly. As your lips enclosed around his tip, his hand found home in your hair. Your tongue swirled around him slowly before you closed the distance between your lips and his groin. He groaned loudly as you took him in deeper. Impulsively, his hand pushed your head further, causing a choking noise to leave you. "Shhh, you got it, princess. Doin' - ah - doing so well," he moaned as your head bobbed. As you moved your head back and forth, your hand covered what didn't fit in your mouth. It did not take long for Matt's hand to coerce you a bit more forcefully as you noticed his body tense up. "Oh fuck, keep goin," he moaned. A few more pumps later you felt his load shoot into your mouth as he groaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. You pulled off of him with a slight 'pop' and sat with a satisfied grin on your face. He let out a deep breath before looking down at you.

Next thing you knew, your back hit the mattress and Matt hovered over you. "Better wipe that smirk off that pretty little face," he chuckled. To your right you heard the sound of metal clinking. Matt's hand gathered your small wrist and cuffed you to the bed. You looked up at the handcuffs and back at him whimpering slightly. Your arms wiggled causing the metal to clank against the headboard. "What? Can't handle what you dish out?" he smirked and trailed kisses down your torso. When he reached your underwear, his eyes met yours again for approval. As you nodded, he discarded your thong onto the floor. Your hips twitched in anticipation as you felt his breath on your core. The wide grin on his face was undeniable as he watched you already writhing beneath him. "So sensitive," he chuckled tracing circles on your thigh, "barely even touched you yet."

"Matty, please," you whined. He ended your suffering licking a stripe up your folds. Your hips lifted at the contact and you gasped loudly. He quickly shoved your hips back down to the bed and held them there with his hands, probably leaving bruises that would show tomorrow. Matt explored you with his tongue, taking note on what made your legs shake. As his tongue circled your clit, he felt your hips try to raise against his hands. "Oh! Matt fuck" you moaned loudly. He smiled against you knowing he figured out your weakness. He continued to work your bundle of nerves until you were a writhing, moaning mess underneath him. The noise of the handcuffs fighting the headboard earned a laugh from Matt's mouth that vibrated against you. Your body tensed as your climax built up. He slipped a finger into you, thrusting quickly as his tongue danced against your clit. You felt pleasure take over your body. "Matt - my god! Don't stop!" you cried out. He continued to ride out your orgasm until your body relaxed and you panted against the bed. He carefully removed his fingers from you and crawled up to meet your eyes. Your lips wrapped around his fingers, tasting yourself as you licked them clean. He removed his fingers from your mouth and unlocked the handcuffs.

A soft kiss landed on your forehead as he pulled his t shirt over your head. You smiled climbing under the covers. Pulling his boxers back on before he climbed into bed with you. The night was spent wrapped in each others' arms.

The morning light showed through the curtains as you woke. After cuddling up to Matt for a few more minutes, you reached for your phone. Your eyes widened as you saw messages from your manager. Attached was an article titled, "YouTube Triplet Seen at Pop Star's Hotel." You knew this was not going to end well with your publicity team but, boy, was it worth it.

[anantaru]

morning sex with diluc <3333

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ synopsis. your husband diluc finds himself craving your warmth first thing in the morning // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡ cw. very passionate & needy diluc, he's your husband, he calls you wife <3, fem! reader ♡

no precise way of gestures, no fluctuation, instead the way diluc touched you first thing in the morning was a little clumsy, yet it conceded a special sentiment— with a tender light of love in his sleepy eyes, hanging with pieces of lust.

"p-patience, doll, you're so soft," he whispers into the back of your neck as one heavy arm drapes around your waist, keeping your plush ass pressed behind his pulsing erection.

pricelessly enough, telling you to be patient while he had to use every single fiber in his being to hold himself back of climaxing right away, made the master of the dawn winery out to be a teeny tiny amount of hypocritical, but in the nicest, most vulnerable way possible.

he worships you dearly, loving the raw soul of you and loving the ever deepening lust on your changing face as he lines himself up with your entrance, yet not before lazily slipping his length in and out your folds for a couple of times, drawing a soft moan out of you.

you laugh airily, "y-you don't seem patient either," and the flustered tone in your voice had been awfully noticeable.

clearly perceptible, when you called him "husband" right after finishing your welcoming sentence, diluc swore he could've released right about this moment, prodding at your hole before slowly bucking himself inside.

well, he's your husband, yet hearing you say it set his loins on fire, not only that but it made his heart beat faster, stronger and more erratic and archons, he was so grateful, nudging his nose into the space between your neck and ear as he leaves a trail of wet kisses on the skin before silently grinding into your warmth.

he murmurs nothing but sweetness into your flesh, and brands you with his lively trace until your breath hitches when he found the perfect tempo for you both. tense with anticipation, you whine and lean back to feel his arm gloss over your warm breasts as he repeatedly slips into your hole, adding more inches and parting your pussy wider as you took him, all of him. 

"I love you... my wife," he gasps, pushing further until his face turns licorice red, immediately after letting his muscles relax against your body.

you squeeze your eyes shut and held in a heavenly whimper, your voice reduced to a sleepy, soft whine and a crumbling moan as you find home in his hold, feeling him greatly bulge and thicken inside your walls.

diluc holds you close to his chest and although he treasured seeing your face switch into a hazy expression whenever he made love to you, he found this position to be very intimate as well.

you whimper as your hole was filled with his warmth and his thick shaft roaming freely inside your drenched walls, clenching at his cock throbbing with each raw drag of his hips. "diluc, baby," you whisper out, your limbs shaking, "i love you too, so much."

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 205 }

midnights spent with you.

sylus x (non mc)fem.reader

you could feel the exhaustion seeping into your very bones the moment you came home late at night. running a hand across your hair, you take quick strides toward onychinus’s headquarters and saw some movement from your periphery. turning to the side, you saw a familiar, mechanical crow tailing your every movement and smile, knowing just who he belonged to.

as you hum one of your favorite songs, you take the elevators all the way to the top floor, already knowing that mephisto would return to his master at the penthouse, alerting him of your arrival home. with you settled in front of your door, you unlock it and announce your arrival, only to be met with silence.

“i’m home.” you speak out once more, this time a bit louder, yet the results were the same-

an almost unnatural quiet.

anxiety was felt coursing through your veins as you dropped your bag and made a beeline toward the stairs, taking them two steps at a time as you hurriedly reached the master bedroom. seeing the heavy oak doors within your sights, you grasp at the handles and push them wide open.

as you step inside your shared bedroom, you visibly relax upon seeing sylus sleeping (which was already a rare sight in and of itself.) trailing your gaze across the room, you saw mephisto was already perched on top of his usual spot, sifting through his feathers with his beak as soft cawing noises were heard from him. giving the crow a wistful smile, you return your attention back to the sleeping man settled in bed.

with his silver hair splayed on top of the plush pillows, you saw the way his eyelids trembled, alerting you of his sleeping state and how he was currently caught up in a dream. your hands ached with the need to thread your fingertips into his hair, brushing back those soft strands while littering his face with butterfly kisses (kisses that were no heavier than dew.)

a smile paints your eager expression when you slowly took off your work clothes, tossing the clothes inside of the hamper before donning one of sylus’s shirts over your form, heading towards the bed with the intention of spoiling him with your affections.

your movements remain careful, with the luxurious bed dipping ever so slightly with your added weight settled on top of it. wishing to take advantage of his sleeping form, you gently lean closer to him, not stopping until the entirety of your weight was settled across his chest. letting out a soft coo of his name, you lean forward and began pressing gentle kisses all across his features.

from the sharp shape of his brow to his chiseled jawline, you bask in the warmth of his skin felt beneath your lips. you truly adored every inch of him, and felt saddened at the fact that you couldn’t show him just how much he meant to you every single second of the day. while continuing your kisses against his skin, you smile and finally aim for his lips, pressing what you assumed would be a simple and chaste kiss against them.

however, upon feeling the sensation of your kiss, sylus begins to stir in his sleep, as if becoming awakened by your kiss. he ends up responding beautifully to you, slotting his lips against yours, expertly deepening it when you let out a sudden moan in response. you feel the way his large hands delve into your hair, pulling you so close to him that your chest was felt pressing against his in response.

several seconds later, you let out a sigh when sylus pulls away from you, eyes shining with amusement when he sees the way your lips had become swollen after his kiss. he teases you, lifting up your chin so that he could get a better look at your lovesick expression.

“what’s this? i didn’t peg you as the type to attack me in my sleep, darling.” you giggle and shake your head, leaning down to press a series of lingering kisses against his jawline.

“forgive me… i just couldn’t help but bask in your beauty and spoil you with kisses while you slept…”

you listen to his rich chuckles, allowing his powerful arms to wrap around your back as he brings you back to his chest. feeling his lips trailing across the expanse of your neck makes you shiver in response, giggling in delight the more he spoiled you with such affectionate caresses.

after spending quite some time basking in each other’s arms, sylus lays in bed and takes your body with him, becoming the big spoon as he held you tightly within his embrace. you smile in response and push your back further against his chest, earning a grumpy grunt from him.

“careful, sweetie, you may end up playing with fire if you come any closer to me.”

“hehe… well… let’s just say i don’t mind getting burned.”

sylus lets out a scoff before leaning closer to you, whispering “brat,” against your ear before biting down against the shell of it, earning a series of giggles from you. after being subjected to sylus’s lovebites against your skin, the exhaustion finally hits as you let out a yawn, making sylus run the back of his hand across your cheek.

“is my princess finally getting sleepy?”

you could only manage a nod in response, your body going slack while taking a hold of sylus’s arms, wrapping them around your front as your eyelids grew heavier.

sylus presses a kiss against your hair while letting out a gentle command, “sleep now, and i’ll treat you to something nice in the morning. perhaps you’d like to pay that café a visit and indulge on some chocolate croissants?”

you let out a soft hum in agreement, already falling asleep as a smile was seen gracing your features. with amusement shining in his gaze, sylus takes a moment to admire your features now painted in a deep slumber, brushing back your hair while quietly cursing to himself.

“how dare you keep me wrapped around your fingers so easily?” sylus asks you in an incredulous manner, unable to believe that his love for you turned him almost too soft for his liking-

and although he would never admit this to you, sylus found himself not caring about how only you alone could bring out such a side of him.

a.n. - i got so many amazing content from sylus today after unlocking his workouts on quality time, obtaining his nightplumes pull, and unlocking his midnight warmth audio all in the span of one night 😭 i am filled with such love and adoration for sylus that i had to write something soft and sweet for him 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[charnelhouse]

no promises

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (Red Fox) Wordcount: 2.6k Warnings: rough smut. size difference. infected wounds. hangovers. sex on a cot. Summary: The first time. A/N: for all you babes, who been asking for their first sexi time Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist

Ghost is wounded.

It’s not grave. It’s not critical, but it’s a bitch. The kind of pain where, even for him, tears prick his eyes and pressure grows fat behind his nose. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck….”

He sits up and the shifting of his weight irritates the poorly stitched slit along his ribs. It’s swollen with infection, the skin puffy and screaming red last he checked. It reminds him of a howling infant. He thinks of howling himself, but the desire to cry out sits firmly at the center of his esophagus. He swallows it before gingerly lifting his shirt. He can’t see it at this angle, but it feels wet.

He lightly touches his side and the pain is excruciating. He chokes. 

“Ghost?”

Red steps through the doorway, the shadows collecting at her edges. The rest of the safehouse is silent and asleep aside from Gaz on watch.

“It’s nothin’,” he assures her before accidentally touching the stitches and jerking again, hissing in agony. Wordlessly, she makes her way toward him on bare feet. They’re pretty, but everything about her is pretty. In fact, the thought of her looking at his purple, pus-filled injury makes him nervous. “Red, it’s not-

“Hush,” she chastises, knocking his hand away and turning on the light. She’s clinical about it. Shirt up. She leans in and the stench wafting from his bandages is enough to curl wallpaper. It smells like a corpse and Simon knows the exact perfume of rot. He thinks of Roba - it screeches through his mind before he banishes it to the lockbox in the furthest corner of his head. 

“Smells like it’s infected,” he says to fill the unbearable silence. 

“Ya think?” The corner of her plush mouth twitches as she tugs his shirt higher. 

Her fingers are cold against his burning hot skin and he shudders.

“Did that hurt?”

“Yes,” he lies.

“I’m sorry,” Her gaze flickers up to meet his. “It’s more than infected, Simon. We need to get you to a medic like yesterday.”

“I’ll survive.”

“Not if it infects your blood, baby.”

He goes rigid as does she. Her eyes are round and expression aghast and he realizes that she had just said what he'd thought she said. He didn’t mishear her. Christ - he gets fucking hard at the pet name and he has to wrestle the blankets over his lap.

She bites her lip. “Um,” she slowly draws his shirt back down. “I meant to say that.”

“Did you?”

“100%.”

“I believe you.”

She shakes her head, her lashes fluttering against her cheek. She looks embarrassed and it surprises him. She isn’t one to trip up or make mistakes that cost her that unflinching coolness. It’s something Soap chases, perhaps something that he already thinks he’s mastered. Soap thinks he's a helluva lot smarter than he is.

Ghost finds Red disarming, an enigma. She can go from perfectly composed to a siren-fury in the space of a second. She can be cold - an ice queen as many others have called her. But with 141, she's anything but. Despite the violence in her eyes, she has a sweetness that she reserves for them.

Her hand on his skin, her quiet voice tinged with concern as she hovered in the doorway: Ghost?

Baby.

“I didn’t mind it,” he says suddenly.

“Mind what?”

“What you called me.”

She smiles with all of her teeth before huffing softly. She leans closer and he knows he will deny her nothing. She slips her fingers against his neck, trails them down to the hard muscle of his chest. “There are a lot of things I’d like to call you,” she confesses before kissing his clothed cheek and calling Gaz for EVAC. 

***

A month later and he’s next to her on a small, yellowing cot. He takes the floor, his back glued to the wall and legs spread out. She’s crumpled on the thin mattress, deathly hungover, completely ill. She twists onto her side to stare at him. 

“I fucked up.”

“I warned yah about that homemade shit.”

“Alejandro said-

“He didn’t know what he was talking about. He’s been hugging a toilet since last night. Soap hasn’t even left the couch, claiming he’s gone blind.”

She sniffles.

“Are you crying?” Granted, he’s a little hungover too, but still…the girl had been shot before. 

“It hurts, Simon,” she whines. “I honestly feel like I’ve been stabbed between the eyes.” 

He hates when she calls him by his name. It sounds too lovely. It sounds like something good.

He wordlessly hands her another cold glass of water, which she takes gratefully. She drinks too fast and most of it lands on her shirt, turning the white fabric transparent. Bleedin’ Christ. He can see her nipples. He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know why he feels like he has to hover over her like a mother hen. She got so drunk, he was worried she’d hurt herself or wander and - 

Well - he fuckin’ likes her. He wants her to be safe. 

She readjusts onto the mattress, legs kicking out at the threadbare sheet. She’s wearing flannel shorts and her legs are smooth and shiny underneath the wane light. After a moment, she asks, “Would you - shit - uh would you lie on here with me?”

At first, he doesn’t think he’s heard her right. He scrapes his hand over his face before turning to regard her fully. “Come again?”

“It would help,” she explains. “It would really help.”

She doesn’t ask the same question. She doesn’t repeat the desire to have him get in her bed and he realizes she’s left the ball in his court. He can pretend like he didn’t hear her initial question and they can continue on like before or - 

To his own surprise, he stands  and awkwardly fits his enormous mass into the bed. He can’t not touch her due to the narrowness of the space, but she seems to love it.  She throws her arms around him, kicks one leg out, tangling it with his thigh. He grunts and he can feel her cheek against his heart. He can smell her hair. 

“You’re like an octopus,” he accuses. 

“Yes,” she replies simply before snuggling her head into his chest. She’s burrowing, pressing herself into him. More. More. Go deep. 

“Is it better?”

“So much.”

He aches for her. That was it. Plain and direct. He ached. 

He throbbed.

He pulses with the same repetitive thump of his organs, the circulating system of his veins. The continuous reminder that he wanted Red in a way that consumed him.

I want her to consume me.

He’s far too big for her and still he imagines her being able to swallow him whole even if he throws her down and claims her.

He’s hard between his legs and he prays she’s asleep. She’s rising and falling with his chest, slipping into the gentle pace like lapping water. 

But then he feels it, she shifts slightly and skates her hand down his belly before she brushes it over his crotch.

It could be a mistake.

She does it again and he twitches. He rumbles.

Silently, he draws his arm back and begins to stroke the nape of her neck, the bare skin of her shoulders. She’s silky and feverish and he can imagine just how hot she is between her legs. 

Wet. 

“It would help,” she whispers and it’s all the consent he needs.

***

It’s terribly awkward at first. They’re both clumsy, both not feeling their best due to last night’s party. He moves on top of her, arm braced above her head, hand clutching the metal frame of the cot. He wedges himself between her spread thighs. 

“You’re heavy.”

“I know.”

He rocks against her, hips grinding down so that the bulge of his cock drags against her clothed cunt. She sighs, arching into him. Her nipples tight and pinched against the fabric of her shirt.

“What if I want to kiss you?” she asks in such a timid voice that it stops him. He studies her for a moment before quickly standing up, locking the door and flicking out the light. He yanks the mask off, breathes deep. It’s freeing. The cool air brushing his skin, the slope of his nose and sensitive mouth and he’s already back on the cot. He’s on top of her and she immediately fists his sweat-damp hair. It’s mussed and unshowered and she grins against his lips.

“I can feel you,” she says, dazed and awed as he rucks her shorts and underwear off her legs. In the gloom, he can make out the shadow of her pussy. He touches it, allows his finger to linger against the warm, soaked slit. He pets at her and she moans. She tries to curl into herself, but he restrains her, pinning her hip and thigh to the sheets. 

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he admits and this is just sex. It’s just about feeling better.

“You can’t see me,” she argues. 

“I can see you.” He lowers his face to her cunt and tastes her. She gasps. “Got eyes like a bat, you know?” He licks her again, savoring the salt of her flesh, the secret part of her. He eats her until she shakes, until the walls of her womb clamp down on his fingers and her clit throbs against his tongue. He does it again until she has to kick him away with her heels. He sits back on his haunches, his hand lifting to circle her dainty ankle. He glances down to study her pretty little foot against his broad chest. “You’re like a doll.” His Duchess. 

“C’mere,” she begs, arms out and as he sinks into them, she wraps them snugly around his shoulders. He turns his head until his lips match up with hers and then they kiss for real. The first true kiss they’ve had aside from the one on his mask last December. He sucks her lower lip between his teeth, nibbles until she inhales sharply. He takes advantage of her parted mouth to thrust his tongue against her own, the slick, warm muscle lazily strokes and strokes until he’s rutting between her spread thighs because it’s driving him into a red-haze.

“Want me to taste you?” she whispers as she holds his face between her hands. Her thumb draws a circle over his cheekbone, digs into the scar that runs underneath it, taking advantage of his nakedness.

“‘Nother time, pet,” he replies as he undoes the button of his jeans. She helps him kick them off and when he finally stands, her eyes widen comically. Her hand falls against her chest, flutters like a bird. 

“Oh,” she says. “Oh - um - Oh.”

He glances down to where his cock has curved up against his belly. He’s rock-hard, nearly ready to blow. Red and twitching. He knows she’s soaked. He’s made sure of that. He’s used three of his fingers on her to get her ready, but she still looks nervous. 

“We don’t have to,” he assures her quickly. “We can just not-”

“No!” she protests, almost hissing. “I want to - I do. There are condoms.” She gestures vaguely to a desk in the corner. “In there…maybe.” 

He gets them and returns to her, her fave still twisted into something weary. “Do - do you think those will fit you?”

He laughs. “Yeah, kid. They’ll fit.”

She lies back down, her legs splayed open and, even in the dark, she is obscenely beautiful. To him. Objectively. To anyone. He’s heard the men say it. He’s felt it. He’s memorized her face and those half-parted lips and used the image to jack off in the shower like a school boy and - 

“Simon,” she says, an edge of impatience scraping her teeth. “Get inside me.”

He rips the wrapper with his teeth and slips it on. He climbs on top of her and he intends to be careful, treat her like something fragile. He’s so big that her legs have trouble wrapping around his waist. His shoulders so wide that she has to throw her arms out to encircle them.

He grips himself as he slides the tip of his cock against her slick heat. She breathes deeply, wiggles her hips and then he begins to press into her. “Hold onto me,” he instructs and she does, nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders as he sinks to the hilt inch by inch. He can feel himself battering against her womb. Her cunt sucks him in with a near-violence. She grunts, but doesn’t cry or whimper. He can make out her eyes in the dark and they’re trained on his. Determined - as if she’s fired up to handle a drill.

“Good girl,” he praises when his hips make contact with hers. His groin is nestled against her mound, her tits crushed against his chest. He noses at her cheek before brushing his lips over hers. “Can I move?”

“If you don’t,” she sighs. “I’ll fuck you up.”

He laughs before drawing his hips back and driving forward. That particular move earns a yelp from her and then he takes control of the dance. He fucks her in deep, powerful strokes, circling and angling down to hit that fleshy, soft patch buried too far for his fingers to reach. She burrows her face into his chest as she clings to him. The room echoes with the slap of flesh, the wet, dirt noises of his cock repeatedly sliding to the hilt.

“Jesus,” she whimpers as he grips her under the knees and forces them against her breasts. He bends her in half as he continues to thrust, snapping into her with a relentless, determined hunger. The bed creaks, the coils screeching and he’s certain it might break beneath them. It wouldn’t stop him. Not at all. 

“Feel so good,” he marvels as he clasps her cheek in his palm, bends his head and plunges his tongue into her mouth. He kisses her like he’s fucking her and when that’s too much, he flips her onto her stomach. 

Her fingers fist the sheets and he grabs the pillow on the floor and shoves it under her hips. From behind, he spreads her open, spits against her bruised, puffy cunt before sinking to the base. He braces his arm above her head, leverages his weight so that he doesn’t put all of it onto her shuddering form. 

“You got this, kid,” he murmurs as he sucks a mark into her neck. He delivers a sharp thrust that sends the tip of his cock hammering against her womb. It knocks her with the force of a punch and she clamps down around him, rocking back against him as she wheezes: please please please -

“Touch that pretty cunt for me, yeah?” he orders, his own voice broken on a husk. His length drags through her, sears hot and molten, stretching her in two pieces. She’s so tight, but he can feel himself open her up, mark her for himself. She slips her hand beneath her and her lower muscles bear down, constrict like a knot around the base of his dick. “Fuck - fuck - just like that, duchess. Get yourself all wet for me.”

She lifts herself, snatches his forearm and bites down as he continues to fuck her. He groans, hips stuttering against her ass, but the pain is welcome. It centers him, focuses his pleasure as it expands through his limbs. She’s covered in a thin film of sweat, her hair sticking to her back, caught in his hand. Every rut of his cock makes her ass jiggle and he thinks he’s buried so deep that he’ll never be the same. There will be no one else after this and he, to his horror, admits it:

“Fuckin’ hell, Red,” he growls into her ear as she climaxes a third time that night. “You’re so good. No one else like you.”

She’s half-mad. She’s gone and he doesn’t think she’s heard him and maybe it’s better that way. This is about feeling good. This is about comfort and relief and as he reaches his own end, his orgasm ripples through him. It unfurls through his torso, the muscles of his thighs and groin and everything pulls tight and that white scar tissue over his ribs from his infected wound begins to throb, but in a damn fine way and oh - he feels it. He really feels it.  

Her fingers tangle through his, winding like creeping myrtle. He crushes her hand against the metal railing, he holds it down and flat until the bones creak.

"Ghost," she whimpers, and he realizes he's embedded inside her, taken root, left his seed.

He thinks of all the promises he's given her the last few years:

We're getting out of this.

Focus on me, Red. We're good. We've already won.

It's just a scratch. You're fine. I've got yah.

He wants to make another, it scratches his tongue, stings like a burr. He chokes on that unspoken promise until it tumbles down his throat and allows him to pull away.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, yandere, monster au, orc x elf!reader, huge size difference

fem reader

Orc Master – who makes his pretty collared elf-pet lick and kiss his heavy balls because his cock won’t fit in her mouth…

They’re the size of grapefruits – bigger than your tits, nearly bigger than your head, and you can only suck a small spot at a time – smacking off the warm weights with a lewd pop before suckling another place just shy of it.

He strokes his cock above you – pearls of pre, more like marbles, trickle down the spine of it before dripping onto your face and chest.

His other hand cradles the entirety of your skull, holding a fat thumb on your brow – angling your head to look past the thick structure shadowing you up into his hooded eyes filled with carnal heat, leering at your pretty face smothered in his sack, begging for what’s kept inside them, warm and ready to flood your guts and breed you full.

His brawny legs are taller than you as you kneel between them – feeling like a beggar praying to a god. His foot, larger than your leg – and his big toe, the size of your fist. Making the whole ground shake when he stomps it down next to you – wordlessly encouraging you to be more eager. 

He's always glossy with old and new sweat – layered thickly and sticky on his tough skin, along with red and brown flecks of blood and mud – highlighting every fat muscle as though carved in metal. Broad shoulders swole with brute strength – even his neck is buff with it, thicker than your thighs – looking proud and toppling as he looms above you. 

His words are few but weighty, grunting out, “Tongue.” Appeased when you listen and stick the pink thing inside his dickhole. Endearment in his voice, purring out “good bitch…” and softly calling you his “tiny elf-whore,” while petting your hair – steering your little head up and down his tall shaft, letting your mouth catch all the spilled mess frothing from his leaky tip.

The muscles in his thighs flex while you suck along his thick veins, pulsing where they fork along the tall tower. You have to gulp when you think about how massive it is – you can’t even reach around it when using both your hands – and you have no sound understanding of how it even fits inside you at all.

When he sucks your tits, he’ll take half of them inside his warm mouth – nomming on them while he stretches your hole with one finger after the other. 

His digits are the size of a male elf’s manhood – you can’t reach fully around one with your hand – and he’s got three of them pumping your tiny elven cunt – prepping you for his much meatier orc-cock.

You’re held easily on his lap, seated sideways and pretty. His drool runs down your chest and belly, and you’re soaked in your own sweat after cumming for the umpteenth time. Still, you squirm when he finally dabs your puffy cunt with the sturdy meat. When it stands between your thighs, the plush cockhead reaches high enough to get cozy between your breasts, and you can already feel it punching your ribs and rearranging your organs.

You always break, trying to fling yourself off and run away despite the collar sitting around your throat with a chain trail leading to the bed.

You’re never able to get out of his grip anyway. He pulls your hair back, making your head hang backward, chest arched up – it’s an awful position, leaving you no option but to thrash – unable to see what’s going on or how to prepare for it.

He picks up your thigh and holds you up in the air by it alone, using you like a ragdoll as he spreads you wide. Huffing out impatient grunts at the numerous failed attempts of pressing his raging cock-head inside you, always slipping through your slit and rubbing off on your clit. He grows angry rather quickly, growling until your hole finally gets sloppy enough to allow the very tip to find footing – just enough to let him knead the entire bulb inside you and slowly sink inch after fat inch all the way up until you choke on it.

Stuffed so fair-tight with a big bulge in your poor belly. You squeeze on it with a cry – your whole body reacting to it, contorting while it settles deep within you. Knees lifting and bending with thighs winding shut, curled toes, and fingers making tight fists.

He’s kind enough to let you roost on it for a bit before moving.

Standing up, he lays your back against the plush bed, still warm from where he’d just been sitting – and wraps a hand around both your ankles, holding them up – placing the other on the dome of your ass, hooking a thumb over your hipbone.

Most of you is still in the air – making so much blood pool in your head. Going dizzy and breathless once he sets the pace, dragging himself out of your tight walls – beyond content feeling your tight cunt squeeze on him as though begging him to stay inside.

You make the cutest sounds – makes his balls clamp up as they swing and softly clap against your back while he slowly lolls his entire length back inside your warmth.

Once your hole surrenders more to his size, he’ll lay your legs to rest against his chest and mirror the placement of his other hand – both now grabbing each of your buttcheeks – starting to fuck your womb tightly.

He loves elven pussy – especially yours – so sweet and juicy, cumming on him every few minutes – milking him for his cream.

You get a fever once he finally cums – pumping it all inside you, unloading for a full minute or two, leaving you gasping and panting with broken moans cut with cries – feeling it seep out around the edges of where he has you stuffed, running down your ass and spine, dribbling down his balls and hitting the floor in fat drops that give a sounding thud.

He waits until his cock is sluggish before sloshing out. 

Everything is a sticky mess, but he cares little for cleaning up – staggering over the bed and immediately falling into a snoring sleep with you tucked under his heavy arm.

After all, he has to make sure everyone knows who you belong to – not only by keeping you collared with his crest but by making sure you smell ripely so – scented from head to toe with his jizz and urine.

BNHA – Enji, Bakugou, Kirishima, Deku, Muscular, Gigantomachia

JJK – Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Kenjaku

AOT – Erwin, Reiner, Zeke

HxH – Uvogin

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Hii this is a bit of a strange ask

Could you make a small Drabble of any Hayden character that you think suits it best, but of that one Wolf on Wall Street scene “nothing but short short skirts around the house” the reader does it for about a week and whatever character you choose goes crazy? :>

Author's note: dear beautiful nonnie, this isn't a strange ask, it was perfect. Although i couldn't decide to chose one particular character, so I most of them :33

DAVID RICE

STEPHEN GLASS

David would be obsessed from the start, instantly giving in with zero resistance. It starts with him just catching glimpses as you walk around the house, his head tilting with every inch you reveal. But by the end of the week, he’s teleporting to meet you in every room you enter, each jump closer than the last. “You know,” his gaze dipping down to trace your curves, “this week has been torture.” He doesn’t even try to hide how much he wants you now, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. With one swift motion, he pins you against the wall, his hands exploring every curve. "Think you can just wander around like that and not expect me to... get ideas?" His fingers slip beneath the fabric, his voice a delicious murmur. "I’ve got a few places in mind I could take you right now.."

Stephen’s flustered from the start. You notice his stammer whenever you walk by him, his eyes flicking up and down as he tries to act casual, but it’s hopeless. By the third day, he can barely keep it together, sneaking glances over the top of his glasses, his fingers nervously tapping on his notebook. “You, um,” he clears his throat, shifting in his seat, “you know, you’ve been, uh… really…distracting.” He stammers, cheeks flushed, his voice dropping. Finally, he gets bold, stepping closer, his fingers grazing your thigh. “This little skirt? It’s not helping me work, you know.” You catch the look in his eyes as his hand starts to travel up, and suddenly, shy Stephen isn’t so shy anymore.

AJ

AJ is smooth and knows exactly what he’s doing, but you’ll feel him unravel when you start wearing those short skirts. He’ll try to play it cool, but the moment you cross his line of sight, his jaw clenching, his nostrils fluttering, and he just can’t keep his hands to himself. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you?” His voice would be teasing, but his hands would be rough when they grab your plush thighs. You’d give him a little teasing wiggle, just enough for him to feel your body press against his, and the shift of your hips would make him groan low in his throat. “Get up here, now.” He’d lift you up onto his lap, and you’d feel him hard against you instantly. Fingers digging into the flesh of your hips “Don't care about anythin' right now but this damned skirt of yours..who even bought you this, sweetheart?" he rubbed his clothed length against your thin panties "cause it definitely wasn't me, would rail you in it way earlier"

ANAKIN SKYWALKER (AOTC)

AOTC Ani is a mess, completely nervous and flushed at how much he’s enjoying this—he can’t hide it. When you walk into the room, it’s all he can do not to lose it. He’s quiet at first, trying to keep his composure, but your short skirt keeps pulling his focus—especially when you casually bend over, giving him a perfect view of your legs, and a little peek up the hem. You can see him shift, his breath hitching as he fights the flush creeping up his neck. “W-Why are you doing this to me?” His hands shake slightly when he finally touches you, his grip on your hips trembling as he holds you to him. He’s hesitant at first, unsure if he’s allowed to touch you this way, unsure if its even properly to do so, unsure to trust himself to do it. Yet, when you sit down in his lap, that’s it. He can’t hold back anymore. “You— you look so...” He stumbles over his words, a little embarrassed, but the heat in his gaze tells you everything. “You know how hard it is to focus when you're wearing that? Almost made me choke by Master Obi-Wan..”

Anakin Skywalker (ROTS)

VADER

By the time you’re in the ROTS era, Ani’s no longer hesitant—he’s consumed by this dark, obsessive hunger. You in that short skirt? He's about to lose it. As soon as you straddle him, his gaze locks onto your backside, his eyes tracing the curve of your body as you lower yourself onto him. His hands immediately find your waist, squeezing hard as he guides you down. “Look at that ass,” he growls “You’re gonna sit on me and wear that skirt, and tease me like this?” His hands will travel down your back. His lips are bruising, demanding, pulling you closer as his hands tug you down, hard, against him. “Move for me, baby. I want to see that ass bounce on my thick cock”

Vader is possessive, controlling, but so gentle in a way that drives you insane. In the privacy of his chambers, after a week of separation, he doesn’t even wait for you to speak before he’s on you. His voice is commanding, low, but filled with that unwavering affection. "You’ve tested me all week... and now you're here, wearing this." His hands find your waist, dragging you toward him as he presses his lips against your throat. His grip would be firm, unyielding, but his touch is incredibly soft—caressing your skin as if you’re something fragile, something precious. You’d feel his mechanical hand slowly explore your body, just shy of dominance, as if worshipping you. “You look like you’ve been made for me,” he’d whisper into your ear, lips brushing your skin. His gaze would be ravenous, following your every movement as if he can’t get enough of you. "Yet you do something like that.." And when you lay beneath him, he’d take his time (to tease you), slowly pulling the fabric of your skirt up just to see you, to feel every inch of your skin. His hands are everywhere - groping, squeezing, rubbing the flesh of your skin

SAM MONROE

Sam is a bit rougher than the others, especially with the everything he's went through. He’s used to being guarded, but you in that skirt—it's breaking him. After days of watching you in that outfit, teasing him, he’s about to explode. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around the house like that without doing something about it?” His voice is low, rough, almost dangerous as he slams the door shut behind him. His hands are immediately on you—gripping your hips, slamming you against the nearest wall as he kisses you roughly, taking control. “You’re gonna be sorry you wore that skirt,”

JAMES KELLY

James is such a soft dom. The minute you slip into that skirt, he’s hypnotized. He won’t push you too fast, but you can tell he’s fighting the urge to devour you. His hands are light at first, as he lets you control the pace. He’d pull you close, and the soft, gentle way he’d hold you would make your heart race. "You have no idea what you this skirt does to me, do you?" He’d murmur, lips brushing over your neck as his hands slowly explore your body. He’s patient, deliberate, yet so desperate to break you. "Got all night to show you how much I appreciate the view"

LEO

Leo’s flirtatious, cocky, and so confident, but when you wear that skirt, you bring out the feral side of him. He’ll tease at first, pulling you close, hands on your waist as he whispers in your ear. “You wear that skirt to get my attention?” His voice is teasing, but the way he grips your hips shows his true intent. As you sit on his lap, he’s practically grinding into you, unable to hide how much he’s enjoying it. His lips are on yours, desperate and urgent, his hands moving underneath your skirt, claiming you in every way possible, not letting you take off the skirt just yet.

CLAYTON BERESFORD

Clayton is a quiet storm—calm on the surface but with a dark, possessive hunger just below. When you wear that short skirt, he’s trying to keep his cool, but his focus is slipping. His gaze sharpens as he watches you move, and it’s clear he’s imagining everything he wants to do to you. “You think you can tease me like this and expect me not to do something about it?” His voice is low, controlled, but it holds a sharp edge. His hands reach for your waist, pulling you closer, his breath quickening as he feels you against him. You can feel his pulse thrum under his skin, the tension building. “I’ve been patient,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, “but you’re making it very hard to stay in control.” He slowly lifts your skirt, his fingers trailing up your thighs, dangerously close to the heat between your legs. He leans in, his lips barely touching yours. “I’m going to make sure you never wear this again without me getting a taste.” His hands would grip your hips, and he’d pull you closer, urging you to feel him, to let him take what he’s been craving.

LORENZO

KURT

Lorenzo is a bit of a playboy, cocky and charming, but when you wear that skirt, he can’t help but want you in a way he’s not used to. At first, he’s all teasing smirks, playfully checking you out as you walk by, and he’d be very vocal about it. “Damn, that skirt is dangerous, baby.” His gaze is fiery, but his hands would be slow, deliberate, and possessive as they explore your body. “Is this how you get a man’s attention?” He’d tug you toward him, lips trailing down your neck, his hands massaging your back before they slip lower. He’d bring you close enough that you can feel the hardness of him pressing against you. "I’ve been dying to take you, but if you keep wearing things like this, I’ll lose all control." You’d feel the way he grinds against you, his body on fire as he pulls you deeper into him.

Kurt is brooding, intense, and feels the weight of the world on his shoulders—but you? You make him forget everything, especially when you wear that skirt. He’s been trying to keep his distance, trying to keep things slow, but he can’t. Not with you looking like that. When you slip into the room, that skirt barely hanging on, he snaps. “You think this is funny?” he growls, eyes drinking every inch of your exposed skin. His hands move without hesitation, gripping your hips and yanking you against him. His lips crash onto yours—bruising, desperate—as if he's been starved for you. His fingers move up your skirt, rough and unrelenting, slipping under the fabric as he pulls you closer. "I tried to wait... but damn it, you’re making this impossible," he mutters between kisses. His lips trail down your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he explores your body with intent. He’s not gentle—he’s a man at the edge of his control. “You want this, don’t you? Want me to take you right here, right now baby?” His voice is deep, rasping “cause this is what you wanted, right? For me to lose control?”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddict @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo

[potatoplace]

Truthteller

Azriel x Reader

kinktober day 8 | knifeplay

kinktober '24 masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Your eyes have been drawn to a certain dagger at your mate's hip for weeks now. And maybe your thoughts, as well. What you hadn't expected was for your mate to notice your drifting attentions.

Warnings: knifeplay, cutting a your partner's name into your skin (do NOT do this irl unless you are VERY committed and trusting!!), light smut

Words: ~1.8k

Author's Note: well it's a couple of hours late but it's here! Some fun lil knifeplay Az, and it's a lil fluffy too imo. I like it. I hope you guys do too!

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

For weeks now, your eyes had been drawn to the daggers constantly at Azriel’s hip, lingering over them until Azriel felt your eyes on him, and you looked away with a blush on your cheeks.

Every night before bed when he would take off his knife belt, your eyes tracking his movements.

Tonight was no exception.

Azriel had been teasing you more than usual at family dinner earlier, letting his shadows play under the skirts of your dress. They had trailed up and down your legs, leaving a path of slight cold from your calves to your inner thighs. Az himself had also let his hand rest on your thigh throughout most of the meal, his fingers drumming an entrancing beat into your skin.

By the time the two of you said your goodbyes to his family and returned to your house, you were more than ready to find out why Az had been so insistent on driving you mad with his touch all night.

Azriel opened the door to your shared home, letting you pass through the doorway first before following you, shutting the door and turning the lock.

“Let’s go into the bedroom, hm, doll?” Azriel suggested in a low voice, a hand on your lower back already leading you past the living room and kitchen, through the hallway and into the master bedroom.

You loved when he was like this.

Confident, commanding. Taking control.

“Turn around and sit on the bed, doll,” Azriel told you as he turned to shut the bedroom door.

You did as he asked, settling down on the edge of your plush mating bed, the sapphire bedding rustling beneath you.

Azriel was facing you when you looked up again, and he crossed the distance between the two of you in slow, decisive steps, his wings flaring behind him.

And still, your eyes slipped from his face down to his favorite knife, Truthteller.

It was your favorite, too.

Probably not for any sane reason, but, well, you had never claimed to be fully in your right mind.

One of Az’s fingers lifted your chin so you were looking at his face once more.

“Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind, little mate?”

Your face flushed. You shook your head, his finger still holding your chin.

“Oh? Not going to share those pretty little thoughts with me?” Another slight shake of your head. “How about if I guess, hmm? I want to know what keeps distracting my pretty mate from me,” Azriel said possessively before leaning down to claim your mouth in a kiss.

If he guessed… You supposed that could be an… easier way to admit what you wanted.

“Okay,” you said softly. Azriel smiled down at you, hazel eyes so captivating that you couldn’t look away.

Until Truthteller was raised in front of your face a few seconds later, Az’s smile turning to a satisfied smirk at your widening eyes.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice that my mate’s eyes had drifted from my cock to my dagger, doll?” He asked, twisting the dagger in his scarred hands. “I’d just like to hear you say why, Y/N.”

You bit your lip. If he had already guessed that you’d been fascinated by the dagger, then he had to know the reason why already… Which means that he wants you to say it.

He always had liked pushed you out of your comfort zone in the most pleasurable ways.

And this might prove to be the best one yet.

“I…” You started. “I want you to…” You buried your face in your hands, hiding yourself from his piercing hazel eyes.

Azriel kneeled before you, placing Truthteller on the bed next to you before taking your hands in his and gently prying them away from your face. “Keep going, love, you’re doing great,” he praised, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I want you to use Truthteller on me,” you whispered, finally admitting your most recent obsession. You met Azriel’s eyes, happy to see so much warmth and love within them.

“Such a good girl for me, little mate. How much do you like this dress?” He asked, running his fingers along the sleeve.

It was a beautiful dress, in a dark blue that was nearly black with long, flowing sleeves and a semi low cut neckline, showing off a decent amount of your cleavage.

But the trouble in Azriel’s eyes promised a night worth losing something as replaceable as a dress.

“Not too much,” you replied, biting your lip in anticipation when Az’s mouth curled into a predatory grin, and he grabbed Truthteller from beside you.

“Tell me if you ever need me to stop, doll,” Az said seriously, waiting until you nodded in agreement to move again, standing from his place kneeling on the floor. “Stand up.”

You did as he said, watching with butterflies in your stomach as Az circled you, the cool bite of metal just barely grazing your skin as he tore through the laces of your dress with ease. You breathing hitched when the tip of Truthteller pressed into your lower back just enough for the pinch of metal to register, before Az was circling back to your front.

He cut the dress from between your breasts to just above your pelvis, then pulled the dress off of your body. All you were left in now was your underthings, a pale cream set that had Azriel’s gaze lingering over you, even more appreciative of your body in the delicate lace.

Azriel pushed you back until your knees hit the bed, then tapped your shoulders. You laid down as he requested, your breath hitching when he followed you down.

The two of you shared a soft kiss, tongues dancing together before Az pulled away. He leaned on one arm as he brought the other up to the strap of your bra, using Truthteller to slice through it, repeating the action on the other side.

Then he slid the knife underneath the band of your bra, twisting it so it was resting vertically on your skin, letting the smooth edge of the knife press into your breastbone. You bit your lip as you stared up at him, your hips twitching, ready to chase your pleasure.

He felt it, of course, and rewarded you for your impatience by slicing the remaining fabric on your chest, pulling it away from your body and tossing it to the floor.

Next he moved to your hips, knife making quick work of your panties so that Azriel could pull them away, leaving you bare for his eyes to feast upon.

And his mouth, if he had any say in the matter.

You were glistening in the low light of the bedroom, worked up from the soft glide of Truthteller against your skin and your mate above you, watching you with heavy lidded eyes. You met his gaze, certain that you already looked wrecked from the small amount of stimulation.

“Still feeling good, doll?”

You nodded your head, giving your mate a small smile.

“Good. Now, do you want more of soft brushes of the blade,” he demonstrated, the light press of the blade tickling your skin and leaving a small red mark in its wake. “Or, do you want something more focused? Maybe even have me write something? It’s all up to you, doll.”

The teasing brush of Truthteller against your skin had you squirming beneath him, but you tried to focus, for Az.

“Uhm… both are… both are good,” you said slowly, teasing passes of Truthteller against your stomach distracting you. “I… I’ve thought about, uh, having your…” you hesitated. This was the big part that you were worried about. “Your name on me…”

Azriel’s mouth split into a grin, something you saw so rarely. “You want my name put into your skin, my sweet little mate? Hmm?” He hummed as he leaned in to kiss along the expanse of your neck.

“Mhm, please,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a reassuring kiss.

When your lips parted, Az was looking down at you with such fondness, such love in his eyes that you couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“Where do you want my name, doll?” Az asked softly into your ear as one of his hands drifted across your skin, waiting for you to choose the spot where he would gently carve his name into your flesh. It passed over your breasts, giving them each a soft squeeze before drifting lower, passing over your ribs, stomach, down to the curve of your hips-

“There,” you breathed as his hand passed over the skin of your lower stomach, just above your pelvic area.

“Right here, front and center doll?” You nodded your head vigorously in agreement, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch as Az grabbed Truthteller and readied the tip of the blade against your sensitive skin. “Let me know if it gets to be too much,” he said seriously, waiting for you to nod your understanding before moving the blade even a hair.

And when he did move…

The soft pinch of the knife against your skin, just barely cutting it open was perfection, the small amount of pain pairing wonderfully with the arousal thrumming through your veins.

Az’s careful, steady hands worked the blade into your skin as lightly as he could to get the effect that he knew you were desperate for, by now. Between letters he pressed his lips to the skin of your inner thighs, your hips, just barely skirting around your dripping cunt each time.

You were barely able to keep yourself still by the time he was finishing the last stroke, the ‘L’ in his name, but you managed, reveling in the look of pure approval in your mate’s eyes as he looked you over.

“Look at it, baby,” Az said, helping you sit up so you could inspect the imprint of his name.

And there it was. Delicately carved, with very little blood coming from them. More like deep scratches than true cuts, but the effect had your heart beating faster either way.

“It’s perfect, Thanh you Azzie,” you said softly, pulling his face to yours for a heated kiss. “I love it. And I love you.”

Az smiled at you. “I’m glad you like it, love. Now… were you wanting another treat?” He asked, his eyes darkening. You nodded your head. “Good. Go ahead and lie back, and just enjoy,” Az instructed, a hand on your back making sure that you lowered yourself down slowly.

You kept your hands by your sides, as much as you were dying to wrap them in your mate’s hair.

In the next moment, his mouth had descended upon you, his shadows joining the fun as well and wrapping around your breasts, giving them a squeeze.

You were in for a long night.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff

[yearning-for-autumn]

Stay Stay Stay - Azriel x Reader

Summary - You and Azriel try something new in the playroom...it doesn't quite go to plan. (Aka. Azriel is the master of aftercare and would quite literally bend over backwards for you, or in this case, squeeze himself into a box). Fluff and Angst.

Warnings - BDSM, ddlg, safewording, allusions to smut, petplay maybe?? not really?

Word count - 1740

Pairings - Azriel x Reader

A/N - This is based on my ideas for a 24/7 dom/sub Azriel situation, this fic is barely proofread and written a while ago so it's not perfect.

“You’re going to stay in there, babygirl.” Azriel said, pulling on his boots at his desk. 

You were on your knees in a large, Fae sized crate – like that for a dog – decorated with plush blankets and pillows and a few of your favourite stuffed animals. You blinked up at him owlishly as he sauntered over to the bars, the heavy sound of his boots on the wooden floor of the playroom. 

“Daddy will be back in a few hours, there’s a shadow with you so I know you’re safe, and they can unlock it in an emergency, ok?” His scarred fingers stroked your cheek through the crates thin grid of bars, and you leaned into his touch, savouring it. Training was usually followed by breakfast at Cassian’s, then a long-winded flight home to stretch his wings. You were in this for the long haul. You whimpered.

“I’m nervous.” You said quietly, and Azriel’s face softened, he unlocked the crate and let you crawl to him, kneeling down in front of you. You breathed in his familiar and comforting scent as he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in it.

“Do you want to tap out, sweetest? Daddy won’t be upset at all if you decide you don’t want to do this.” 

You shake your head. The warmth of his body soothing you, the low rumble of his chest as he hummed gently, spending as much time holding you as you needed before he left for training, left you in the crate, alone. 

“I want to try, daddy.” You said, and you did. The idea of Azriel keeping you in here as he went about his day sent a shiver down your spine. You were his plaything. His little girl. Not trusted to walk about and get on with anything without his supervision. It was still early, you would be going back to sleep as soon as he left, you could do this. 

“If you need to tap out for any reason, just say your safe-word. My shadows will hear it. I’ll be with you immediately.” He assured, kissing the top of your head. “Try to sleep, sweetest. Daddy will be home before you know it, then we can do something fun.” His tone was sickly sweet, condescending in just the way you liked. You nodded, and tipped your head up for a kiss, which he pressed softly to your lips, before you crawled back inside the crate and curled up against the pillows. It was cosy and warm, Azriel’s shadow wrapped around your wrist, a reminder of him. Your hand drifted up to play with the heart shaped tag on your collar, a band of pink leather around your neck. Azriel’s boots grew quieter as he left the room, and you drifted to sleep.

–

You woke up slowly about an hour later, warm and comfortable. The playroom was gently lit with faelights that grew brighter as you sat up and rubbed your eyes. You looked over to your left, expecting to see Azriel, sat working at his desk like he usually was. Then you remembered. The realisation settled in your chest like a block of ice. Azriel was at training. You were all alone. You couldn’t get out. 

Your heart rate picked up as you crawled to the door of the crate and tested the lock. Stuck. You were stuck. Daddy was gone. You couldn’t get out. Daddy was gone. Were you not a good girl? You stayed like you promised. Where was he? 

“Daddy?” You called, tears pricking at your eyes, “Daddy?”

You waited a moment, hopeful, but there was no response. Your face crumpled and you started to sob, flopping down onto a pillow and squeezing it tight. The shadow around your wrist flickered nervously, but you brushed it away, it wasn’t daddy, it wasn’t who you wanted. Your eyes shuttered closed as you fell into a fitful sleep, drifting in and out of consciousness. The tears continued, even as you dreamt, the nightmares of Azriel leaving you, of never returning causing you to cry out in your sleep. 

The shadow stroked your forehead, wiped at your eyes, anxiously fiddled with the crate lock before thinking better of it. When you woke from another bout of restless sleep you observed it quietly, nose streaming and eyes sore from the salty tears. It floated over to you, like it was looking at you, and you remembered. 

“Red.” You said, your voice hoarse. The shadow drifted down a little in relief then unlocked the crate door. You scrambled out, and a second later Az was in the room, his arms hooking under you and picking you up to his chest. 

—

The feeling of control didn’t leave Az when he left the room. He strode onto the training grounds, grin forming as he warmed up, ready to get his hands dirty and destroy Cassian. 

He was mid spar with his brother. Preparing to block an incoming punch to his left, when his shadows vibrated in worry, one of them relaying your safe-word. He didn’t even stop to explain, he let his shadows pull him off the training grounds in seconds, sending Cassian tumbling forwards and face planting the dirt. 

Az was in the playroom instantly, and found you outside of the crate, having just crawled out. He picked you up easily and held you to his body, letting you smell him, feel his warmth. He had fucked up. 

The look in your eyes was one he was familiar with, he had dealt with a fair few sub drops in the past, and he could see from the tear stains down your cheeks that if you weren’t already there, you would be soon. He held you firmly, humming a calm illyrian tune as you slowly relaxed into his embrace.

“Daddy?” You said, so quietly he didn’t hear you, and a shadow repeated your words to him instead. He hummed. 

“Yeah babygirl, it’s me, I'm here.” He said, not letting any of his own panic through in his voice. To you, he was in control, he had everything covered, there was nothing to worry about. In his head, he was as nervous as the shadow he had left with you, that was currently separate from the pack and jerking uncomfortably in the air behind your head.

“Where did you go?” You asked, looking up at him like you had only just noticed he was there. He let out a slow breath.

“I went to training, remember? We talked about it this morning babygirl, that I would be home in a few hours, to let you out and play.” He said, slowly, calmly. 

“But…I woke up and you weren’t there…” You say, your mind fuzzy and confused. He cursed softly under his breath. He carried you over to the huge bed against the far wall of the playroom. Placing you down on the soft, brushed cotton sheets, he turned for a moment to pour some water from the jug on the nightstand and the bond in his chest screamed. He turned so quickly some of the water splashed over the side of the glass. You were sat up, eyes wide, tears falling down your cheeks. He put the glass down and got into the bed, gathering you into his lap and wrapping his wings around you. 

You curled into his body, heart rate evening out as you were engulfed in his huge wings, dappled light filtering through. He looked down and kissed the top of your head. Reaching for the glass, he carefully shifted you up without you losing any contact with his body. 

“Take a sip.” He commanded. You reached up and tried to take the glass from him but he shook his head. He brought the glass to your lips and tipped it gently, letting you drink until he was satisfied before pulling it away. 

“Good girl.” He praised, and felt the bond shimmer happily. The two of you sat quietly for a while, Azriel humming gently and stroking your hair. 

Slowly. Very slowly. The fog cleared from your eyes, and you seemed more lucid. The panic in his chest calmed.

“What happened, Azzie?” You asked, a little shy and embarrassed. He smiled warmly, kissing your forehead. 

“You had a subdrop.” He said, “Can you tell me what happened before you used your safe-word?”

You thought for a moment.

“I was asleep. I woke up and you were gone. I was really upset, but..I couldn’t remember what to do…I went back to sleep..” Azriel’s breath quickened, “I kept waking up I think…then I remembered to safeword and you came.” You said. Azriel’s eyes were wide.

“You were uncomfortable for that long? Why didn’t you get out of the crate, princess?”

“I couldn’t..It was locked..” You said quietly, ashamed. Azriel could have kicked himself. His hands tightened around you.

“My shadow should have unlocked it. I should have been more explicit in what I told it to do. I’m sorry baby. You did everything right. It’s not your fault you were too fuzzy to safeword, next time the shadow will unlock the crate as soon as you become upset.” He said, angry at himself. 

You looked up at him, worried. Biting your lip you said, 

“Um..I don’t think I want there to be a next time…” He nodded slowly. 

“You don’t want to go in the crate again?” He asked. 

“No!” You said quickly, “I like the crate. I just, want you to stay in the room.” 

“Of course princess. I will sit at my desk, or just outside the crate. Cauldron, I’d get inside with you if you wanted.” He said. You giggled at the image of him squeezing himself in and he let out a deep sigh of relief.

“I want to get you a snack, would you like me to carry you with me, or can I leave you cosy in bed and come back?” He asked, peppering kisses on your hairline. You dropped your head to his chest, cheeks flushing. 

“I could just walk with you?” You offered.

“No.” He said simply, already lifting you into his arms as he rose from the bed. “Not possible,  sorry. I want to carry you. It’s good for my mental health.” He continued as your embarrassed smile grew. 

“Ok daddy.” You said, letting him cradle you in his arms as he carried you upstairs to the kitchen.

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 7: congee   

contents: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru & reader, ieri shoko & reader, extreme friendship, swearing, fluff, gojo being really whiny this chapter, gojo calls you babe.

summary:  a healthy satoru gojo was already annoying, but a sick satoru gojo is almost unbearable. shoko comes up with a plan, while you and gojo learn about the things that you have in common.

wc: 5.2k

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

“oh my god, gojo.” you deadpan, shaking your head. “cmon babe, answer the question.” he whines between a mouthful. you roll your eyes, abruptly moving to get up. ughhh. why did he have to tease you all the time? his dull eyes widen at the prospect of you leaving, “nononono, okay – okay, you don’t have to answer … just stay, please?”

ieri shrugs off her covers in a huff, irritation oozing from her restless body as her phone dings yet again. groaning as she got up, she snatches her phone from her desk, the brightness from the phone making her squint. she mashes the call button with disproportional aggression –  it was way too early for gojo’s bullshit, even for her.  “what the fuck do you want? do you know what time it is?” she spits out, hearing gojo’s familiar huff on the line.  “’was just textin’ you, boo! you didn’t have to call, that was your choice!” ieri rolls her eyes at this audacity, noting that his usual baritone sounded strange. “i cant sleep when all I hear is constant dinging, dude!” ieri deadpans, she hears gojo sneeze, her eyebrows raise. “why do you sound like that, satoru?”

“uhh, like what? handsome? hot? attracti–“  “no, you sound sick.”  “no im not, I never get sick.” he snaps, “if you just wanted to hear my voice, shoko –“

a mischievous smile full of realization stretches across ieri’s face, “oh shit – you’re sick aren’t you?” “don’t be an idiot, i’m not sick – i don’t get sick.” he grumbles.    “is a little cold knocking out the gojo satoru?” ieri teases, sitting back down on the side of her bed.  “i swear, you’ve been hanging out with me and suguru too much – “   “heh, were you up all night thinkin’ about your cute babe? is that why you got sick – ” her voice lights up with glee at the prospect of teasing gojo.    “hey!” gojo nearly shouts irritatingly, “you know that isn’t true, sto–“

“oh man so it is true, I fucking cant wait to tell suguru –”

“shokooooo!! just shut up and listen! i’m just tired is al–“ gojo interrupts himself with a coughing fit, in time with ieri’s snickering.  

 “okay, don’t come to class, gojo. you’re actually sick I can already tell.” ieri grimaces.

“aw, are you worried about lil ol’me?” he answers voice hoarse, sounding more and more congested by the minute.  she scoffs, “ugh gross, no. I just don’t want to get sick. stay away from me.” ieri hangs up before gojo could whine. she lies back into bed with a heavy sigh, a healthy satoru gojo was annoying, but a sick satoru gojo was diabolical. he was going to make this everyone’s problem.

gojo satoru: ur so rude to me, u need to fix that ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡) (5:11am)

ieri shoko: wow bitch after I was going to get you soup later?  (5:12am)

gojo satoru: ( ˶°ㅁ°) ! nvm u r my fav don’t tell sugu ily <3 <3 <3 (5:12am)

ieri shoko: see that’s what I thought go sleep now srsly (5:13am)

gojo satoru:   (⸝⸝⸝･ᯅ･⸝⸝⸝)◞♥︎ (5:14am)

ieri takes a screen shot of the text message, glow illuminating her tired face – oh this will come in handy someday. diving back into her plush mattress, ieri’s thoughts move back to gojo, confident that he was pouting miserably in his room. she shuts her eyes with an amused scoff at gojo’s dramatic antics. rolling over into a more comfortable position, she quickly conjures up a wicked plan before falling back to sleep with a grin on her face.

“really, suguru?” you moan as you watch him take some of the bok choy from his own bowl before placing it into yours. “I said that I was okay!” shooting geto a pout.  “stop being such a fucking–“

“hey, you literally just ate one piece.” he judgementally comments as he meets your challenging eyes, silently encouraging you eat more.

“I can serve myself!” you huff as you lean your chin on your closed fist.

“yeah, how are you gonna kick his ass tomorrow if you don’t eat enough?” ieri teases, eyes on her phone.

“I can pin him without it!” you mumble, catching geto’s amused head shake. you easily take a bite of the vegetable courtesy of the big mother hen seated next to you, playfully knocking your knee to his.  

geto really worries too much.

as you swallow the last bite of your bok choy, you look around the table, eyes settling briefly at gojo’s empty chair.

“satoru still feeling like shit?” geto asks catching your loaded gaze, to which ieri groans as she puts her phone down with a clatter. “idiot has a fever but doesn’t want to rest,” ieri says between a mouthful of rice, “he fucking woke me up at 5AM today!” while suguru sighs, mumbling “yeah sounds like him. when I brought him medicine a few hours ago, he was just playing games on his phone.” geto rolls his eyes. “ah shit – that reminds me, i actually should go pick him up some soup or something after this.” ieri sighs, drumming her nails on the kitchen table, “ughhhh yaga wants me at the morgue in 40 minutes though.” you wrinkles your nose, “I never know how you can eat and then go straight to doing… what you do.”

shoko shrugs nonchalantly, taking a bite of the sauteed pork. “mhm, you get used to it.”

“you’re still eating, though – I can go pick up it up? I have to grab something from the combini anyway.” you suggest.

“mhm? you sure?” ieri mumbles, still focused on her meal. “if you wait a couple of minutes I can go with you?” geto suggests. “nah suguru it’s fine, you’re still eating anyway and you have a mission in like 2 hours.” you say quickly taking out your phone to check the time. “what were you going to get for him, ieri?”

“oi! how many times do I have to tell you, it’s shoko!” she throws her crumpled napkin at you, earning her a sheepish smile from you.

old habits are hard to break. and you were stubborn.

though you haven’t been close to her for a long time, you liked ieri. she was outwardly straightforward, smart and determined. ieri had a bluntness to her that you found refreshing albeit a bit harsh at times. often balancing gojo’s playfulness with an iron fist, she would steamroll him and geto when their mischief got too far or more often than not, encourage it when she thought it would be entertaining to watch. like that last week where gojo and geto tried to steal all the clocks at the school, but ieri suggested instead that they turn back all the clocks in the school 2 hours back because she wanted to get more sleep. unsurprisingly she got what she wanted.

but inwardly, you knew ieri as being understanding with a kind forcefulness that you found charming. recently she got into the habit of pushing you to hang out with everyone when all you wanted to do was rot in bed. she’d complain that you were being a “boring old man” and that you should “start acting your age with them,” recently she would even arrive at your door with takoyaki and magazines promising a night new founded laughter. 

her friendship was coarser than geto’s, encouraging you to make mistakes with the background promise of helping you pick up the pieces while berating you for your stupidity. she was the type of person that would have your back but would yell at you if you were making a stupid decision– she fought for you even if that meant fighting against the moronic version of your past self.  friendship was generally a new thing that you were getting used to, but with ieri’s friendship you felt lighter.

“the congee with ginger and chicken broth or something. it’s good for his congestion.” she answers as you take out your phone to type in a note. ieri’s eye catches the silvery gleam of your phone charm dangling from your hands, a knowing smile reaches her lips.

“y’sure? I won’t be that much long – “ geto starts before shutting up immediately as ieri’s foot violently wacks into his shin under the table, earning a repressed grunt.

 “... you good, suguru?” you ask, settling your phone down on the kitchen table. you meet his violet eyes, eyebrow cocked.

“he’s fine!” ieri answers sweetly. geto’s eyes narrow at ieri before she meets his questioning gaze in exasperation. oh my god, suguru – look at the charm! large light brown eyes directing his annoyed gaze to the table. looking at your phone adorned with a familiar silver star, his sly mouth hides the beginning of a shit eating grin, understanding immediately colouring his features. ah, I see.

stretching your neck to the left, you get up with a huff. the chair behind you slightly screeching as you move to collect your dirty dishes and wash them in sink.

“alright, I’ll see you guys later then.” you add brightly, whiping your hands before glancing down your phone screen opened gojo’s contact. quickly slapping your phone closed.

“be safe later, suguru,” you say patting his shoulder, catching his reassuring grin before walking out of the room.

“shoko, that fucking hurt.” geto hisses dramatically after ensuring that you’ve left. his chair moving back with a screech as he rubs his shin, shooting ieri a questioning look. “do you keep rocks in your shoes or something, god.”

ieri sighs. “you know what���s more painful? watching those two idiots! ugh, they need to figure their shit out.” ieri groans reaching across the table to steal a sauteed carrot out of geto’s bowl.

he chuckles, a warm sound reverberating around the corners of the room. “knowing them though, they probably don’t fully know it themselves.”

“yeah, fucking six eyes my ass.” shoko grumbles, taking an aggressive bite out of some broccoli. geto picks out some of the vegetables from of his bowl, chopsticks moving them easily into ieri’s. “give them some time.” ieri takes out her phone to type out a quick message to gojo.

ieri shoko:  you can thank me later  (5:43pm) gojo satoru: for what? ( •̀ - •́ ) FOR WHAT? ????  shokoooooooooo  (5:45pm)

you shrug your long scarf off with a sigh, juggling the bulging plastic bag in hand. your rosy cheeks sting from the cold, you huff to keep your hair out of your face. you sigh before knocking on gojo’s door gently. “gojo?” you call out, knocking louder. foot now tapping impatiently, rolling your eyes “gojo! dude, I brought you foo– you know what, i’m coming in,“ turning the handle, your eyes widen at the sight before you.

gojo was sprawled out diagonally on his bed, limbs falling in different directions like he had just fallen from the sky. his dark blue comforter half on him, an arm propped up cover half his face, dark glasses discarded somewhere, offending eyes shut tight, eyebrows scrunched up sadly. the cold sunlight outside, streaming in from his half-opened window illuminates gojo’s white hair, the messiest you’ve ever seen it. he looked like pathetic fallen mop.  

“gojo?” you whisper, moving deeper into his room, his foot twitches at his name. placing your scarf and plastic bag on his messy desk filled with volumes of manga, stray pens, packs of opened digimon cards and this week’s half finished homework. if you looked closer you saw that he had some rather impressive doodles of curse -hybrid yaga on it and what you thought was a fox version of geto. on the corner of the desk was a small bottle of cold medicine and a box of tissues, probably evidence of geto’s visit earlier in the day.

“gojo..? hey?” you hesitantly move closer to his still figure, the rise and fall of his chest catches your eye. you hated the break the peace, but he had to eat so you gently shook his shoulder.

“mhmmm, hey babe…” he mumbles voice deep and scratchy, blue eyes squinting at you, still tinged in sleep.

“i brought you something to eat, have some before it’s gets cold.” he rolls over onto his front with a groan, speaking into the pillow. you sigh, ill prepared for an even whinier gojo. “I cant understand you when you’re mumbling.” “mmprfff don’t wanna. s’too bright, hurts my head.”

you move across the room to close the window and shut his blinds, “yeah dumbass, the blind are open,” you scoff. moving back to his desk, you rustle through the plastic bag of food, pleased to see that the congee was still hot. retrieving a spoon, a bottle of hot green tea and some napkins as you approach gojo’s bed with purpose.

“don’t be mean to me – im dying.” he hoarsely whines, sniffing.  “you’re not dying, don’t be a drama queen.”

he sneezes loudly, shaking his frame.  “alright, can just sit up? you’ll feel so much better after you eat...”

“m’not hungry.” he plops back into bed, turning his back to you, shrugging his comforter over himself to counter his slight shivering.

you sigh heavily, small hands rubbing your eyes, “i’m not feeding you, c’mon.”

he mumbles noncommittally – a strangled noise between a whine and a grunt– he dramatically adjusts his thick comforter around his strong shoulders. you narrowed your eyes to take in gojo’s appearance - he really didn’t look so good. he was paler than usual, his usual rosey cheeks void of colour, his messy hair, slightly sticking to his clammy forehead.

“gojo, please?” you ask, voice tilting up. “you have to help yourself too, y’know?” you add quietly, a strange softness in your tone that he barely recognizes. turning his head he meets your eyes and for a second you see his eyes shine a little brighter.

he sighs, moving up to lean his back against the headboard, legs crossed, pouting up at you, his hair ruffled like a sad cockatiel. you turn around quickly to hide your giggle at his childish expression and helpless state, instead busying your hands with the plastic bag.

“careful,” you mumble as you place the plastic bowl of congee into his clammy hands, dipping the spoon into it. “it’s hot.” he murmurs his thanks with a sniffle, allowing the warmth of the plastic bowl to ease his discomfort in his body. the fact that you were here – in his room – was a big comfort that he couldn’t deny.

after you watch him carefully swallow a few spoonfuls in approval, you look at him with a frown on your face. “you know why you got sick? because you didn’t wear a warm enough coat in sapporo.” you nag.

he weakly grins “yeah, because I was warming you up on the floor, maybe next time it should be the other way around, eh?” you breathe in sharply, cheeks burning at the memory of you how woke up next to gojo in your hotel room in sapporo last week. his soft breathing comforting you, his right arm was out stretched welcoming your smaller frame as you settled comfortably by his side. he was warm but your cheeks burned even hotter when you remembered gojo’s yelp as you accidentally smacked in the face in surprise as you struggled to create some distance. Gojo was too close for your liking. you sighed in relief as your alarm you had set on your phone went off, a loud disturbance snapping you back to reality and saving yourself from the awkward discussion. you had hoped he wouldn’t bring it up again.  “i’d rather swallow a curse.”  you deadpan, shuffling your feet, crossing your arms across your chest.

“even like that super ugly one that suguru swallowed?”

“i’d swallow the ugliest curse.”  you retort immediately. gojo whines your name as he shoots you a dirty look in exchange for your too proud grin. “really, babe? that’s so rude. …what about that slimy one last week?” “you mean that gross slug thing that ieri said looked like you?” you snicker. he huffs, “it did not look like me! that thing had like 6 weird humps.”

“those weird humps were probably the reason why suguru threw up for like 2 days after.” “heh, he said it was one of the worst tasting. ‘member how he complained that it tasted so bad for only a second grade? then he ate all my melon gummies after.” you laugh at the memory of geto ferally tearing open the gummies and pouring them into his mouth to gojo’s incredulous’ gawking. “hey,” he sniffs. gojo pats the to the side of his bed, a silent invitation to sit. “you’re making me nervous just standing there, grumps.” he croaks.

you hesitate, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I swear gojo.. if you get me sick – “

“i wont!” he whines. “god, babe. cut me some slack.” gojo pouts. usually gojo’s dramatic pouts had no effect on you, you’ve seen them time and time again, his pouts almost a permeant fixture on his face. it’s efficiency fading with it’s increasing frequency.  but this time coupled with his low energy and his pale face emphasizing the dark rings around his eyes - you have the decency to feel a little bad.

you gingerly sit on the side of his bed, careful to not jostle his dinner too much. you watch gojo grab the spoon and gently blows on the rice porridge before bringing it to his lips.

 “… thanks.” he says meeting your eyes as he stirs around the congee with his spoon.

“hm?”

“for this,” he motions at his bowl of still hot soup.

 “s’okay. im only here because ier – uh shoko asked.”

he drops the spoon dramatically. “what, so you’re saying that you don’t care about me?” he coughs, tone sharp and wounded. “oh my god, gojo.” you deadpan, shaking your head.

“cmon babe, answer the question.” he whines between a mouthful. you roll your eyes, abruptly moving to get up. ughhh. why did he have to tease you all the time? his dull eyes widen at the prospect of you leaving, “nononono, okay – okay,  you don’t have to answer … just stay, please?”

you weren’t used to gojo asking you for things so sincerely. he must feel terrible to be this open with you. you study his face, perhaps you would be merciful today.

“you don’t really shut up, even when youre sick, eh?” you grumble.

gojo visibly brightens when you flop back down beside him onto his bed, lying on your back stretching out slightly with a groan. “nah not really, even when I was a kid.” he coughs.

“…did your servants take care of you when you got sick?”  you mention casually, picking at your nails. “mhm yeah, but I never really got sick that often.” he says thoughtfully. “they made sure I was always healthy, I had to take those shitty vitamins all the time. something about how important it was to train and fully harness the gifts given to you blah blah blah…”  

“yeah but when you did I bet everyone knew about it.” “what can I say? i’m kind of a big deal.”  

“more like a big pain in the ass.” he scoffs, placing his half full bowl of soup on his beside table. blinking slowly.

 “heh, I know you like this as–“

 “hey. finish your food. i walked in the cold to get that for you!” craning your neck to see how much he’s eaten.

“m’full.” “gojo. ive seen you eat like 6 burgers in one sitting, you can’t possibly be full.”  “don’t want it. i feel bad.” he whines softly, laboured breath, the mattress jostling as he lies down beside you.

you prod his shoulder, sighing. “at least take your medicine.”  “don’t want it. tastes gross.” he mumbles turning his back on you one more, shrugging his head into his shoulders as if to hide from you.

“just a few more bites –“ “nuh uh.” he buries himself in his comforter, moving it over top of his head.

you palm your forehead. you had to be patient. gojo was sick, he couldn’t help it, right?

“if you take it… I’ll give you a surprise.” you try, lips slightly moving up in approval as the blankets shift, his ears perking up. “… a surprise?”

“mhm. a good one.” gojo’s imagination runs rampant. he was never one for material objects, he got whatever he wanted when he was young. whatever he asked for - even mentioned in passing - it would magically appear the next day. but this was different. this was something from you. something with him in mind, whatever it was he knew that he would cherish it, pin it up on his wall so he could look at it every day if he could.  gojo knew you were thoughtful, he’d see the way you listened to ieri offhandedly mention her coffee order at break only for you to arrive to class with her perfectly made coffee the next week. gojo had recalled the time geto had mentioned that you had packed some of geto’s favourite homemade umeboshi onigiri for a mission with the excuse of “you always forget to pack lunch on early missions and I already had the ingredients.” gojo didn’t even know that geto liked umeboshi onigri. you were a deadly combination of quietly thoughtful and observant, but he noticed that you strangely went out of your way to refuse anything in return. perhaps his surprise would be a slice of cake or, maybe a pack of digimon cards! or maybe a promise to accompany him to jinbocho get some manga with him, something he’s been nagging you to do for weeks. but if he was being honest, he fostered a silly fragile hope that the surprise could maybe, just possibly be a soft brush of your lips on his cheek -  “take it or leave it. it’s a really good one, i promise.” promise? those are big words coming from you. you were never one threw around words so carelessly.

sensing victory in his hesitation, you move to get the medicine on his messy desk that geto had left there. shaking the pills playful, you glance at his hopeful face. sighing, he sticks out his hands as you cheekily deposit 2 pills into his large palm. he swallows the offending antidote, while you hand him the bottle of green tea to wash it down.

“now, where’s my surprise?” he says as you lie back into his messy bed.   “stick out your hand.”

obediently, he quickly reaches his hand out.

you smack you’re palms against his, in a shitty high five. you laugh in gojo’s face of betrayal. “ah, aren’t you the luckiest guy in japan, not everyone gets one of those from me.” but satoru gojo was a sore loser, he was always going to force your hand. he easily loops his fingers through yours, hands settling on top of the covers. your eyes widening ever so slightly at the sudden movement.

“so stingy with me, babe.” he comments under his breath. still holding your hand gently, his thumb moving back and forth on the back of your hand. he was warm, warmer than usual – maybe his fever was returning.

almost instantly you snatch your hand back, your senses coming back to you, mumbling something about how he was infected. in the warm lighting of his room, he relishes in the slight blush decorating your cheeks, his hazy grin shining the brightest of all. you frown lightly as gojo usual’s soft triumphant laugher came out as wheezy huffs. he sounded like he was getting worse.

crossing your arms across your chest, you turn slightly away of him as you take in your surroundings, trying to focus anywhere but the irritating boy beside you. it was your first time in gojo’s room. it was neater than you had expected albeit your expectations weren’t high. he had a shelf full of volumes of mostly shonen manga – but your eyes catch a few familiar romance manga titles pushed to the very edge of the shelf –  spines bent and well read. he had a comfortable looking chair piled with spare uniforms and that light blue hoodie you remembered he wore in sapporo.  he had a small tv in the corner hooked up to a game cube, multiple game covers stacked in a pile, probably where him and geto spent most of their time. despite all of the gojo’s little toys, his room was almost bare of any personal touches, no letters from home or photographs of the gojo estate or with his parents.

“was this taken at the beginning of the year?” you ask, eyes landing on a the sole photograph in his room: a photo of shoko, geto and gojo haphazardly pinned above his desk. “yeah, I think maybe 4 months before ya arrived? we really need to do an updated version with you in it too.” he murmurs, voice muffled by his arm covering his closed eyes. humming you take in the photograph, your eyes dart to  geto to the left, his sleek eyes closed with a soft grin on his face, head tilted towards a much shorter ieri. you almost laugh as you see that part of gojo’s head was cut off due to his height and probably fact that ieri was taking the photo, her smile bright, brown eyes sparkling. on the left gojo had his arms around geto while his right-hand flashes a peace sign as his wild smile echoes his slightly longer messy white hair blowing in the gentle breeze, his dark glasses perched on his face. this was probably taken around early summer last year judging by the lush green trees in the background. they looked so happy despite knowing each other for only a few months. it was strange to you how they could be so close in such a short amount of time. “…it’s weird isn’t it?” he asks, eyes still closed.

“hm? what is?” “having friends.”

it was almost irritating at how easily gojo could catch you off guard, always two steps in front of you. his reputation as the strongest shining true.  you turn your head to meet his tired half opened eyes. “.. yeah, it – it is.” “I had to get used to it too, but it’s fun though, right?” he grins at you, “suguru hated me in the beginning.” “suguru?” you laugh incredulously. “yeah he was so fucking particular about the stupidest shit. i got along better with shoko initially – she was more straightforward and she let me have her pineapple buns in the morning.”

“it’s probably because you’re cocky and annoying,” his eyes full openly your scalding comments.

“hey, I’m not an–“ “ – and you always get him in trouble.” you add thoughtfully.

“me?! he’s the one who comes up with half of the plans! laxatives in yaga’s coffee? suguru! the random evacuation last week because of flooding on the second floor? not me - suguru!”  he starts to chuckle but it turns into a cough, he settles into lie on his side to see your face better. “gotta admit, those were good though.”

“‘member when ya first arrived and no one was allowed to be left alone of the cursed weapons shed? yeah, exactly. not me! baby’s not so innocent, he definitely has some evil ideas, babe.” he sniffs, adjusting the covers to cover himself better.  

you snicker, that sounded right to you. you could see geto’s chaotic streak when he sparred with you, often yelling out random things to catch you off guard and annoyingly they worked. while geto was sly about his mischief, quietly fostering chaotic ideas and plans, gojo was boisterous about his chaos, wearing it proudly on his chest – they really did compliment each other well.

“sure, gojo –  but you’re the one who encourages his ideas.”

he pouts, but before he could retort he feels you shift closer to him to creep your hand onto his forehead, the gesture causing gojo’s heart to beat erratically.

“you’re really warm, dude.” gojo has to quickly swallow the purr that threatens to escape his tongue, as your hands brush his bangs out of the way, sweeping his scalp gently. with your soft skin tingling on his, he finds that he’s disappointed that your touch retreats too quickly.

“yeah, you look like shit,” you tilt your head back to get a better look at his flushing face, “you’re really red, are you feeling okay? ” you say, eyebrows furrowed, “do you want me to get you more tea or something?” propping yourself up on your elbow. with his eyes half closed he shakes his head softly, “nah, m’okay.” “then fully close your eyes, dude. try and get some rest. your body clearly needs it.” “don’t wanna. s’too boring.” you tsk at his at his stubbornness, noting that he was already drifting off.

he's so fucking stubborn.

he falls asleep gently and then all at once.  if you were held at gunpoint and you had to choose your favourite version of gojo it would be of the current one lying in bed.  in the daytime, gojo was constantly vibrating with excitement, a never-ending flow of energy overflowing from his over the top presence. you could sense his cursed energy if he was within a 10-foot radius. it was blinding and overwhelming, easily engulfing you, it’s strength powerful and overbearing – just like him. gojo. but here in his room, he was quiet and free from his cocky smile and smart tongue. in this light he was bathed in a gentleness that seemed entirely out of place with the honoured one. you thought it was almost selfish that you preferred him this way, softer, unguarded – weak. even gods have an off day, you suppose.  but lying on his bed while he felt so unwell, you couldn’t help but see him for what he really was – just a boy. a teenager who chattered about his favourite foods, complained about homework and wanted to hang out with his friends. satoru. this realization felt heavy, being with him in this moment, there was an unfamiliar pull you didn’t understand. Lying beside him drowning in his scent as you see his unguarded slow breathing, you’re more aware of his memories surrounding you, enclosing you in this space. to distract yourself, you decide to tidy up his room.

careful not to wake him for a second time today, you roll off his bed. collecting his container his half eaten food, you place the barely touched bottle of green tea on his bedside table beside the bottle of pills. finding his glasses on the floor you place them on his desk as you plug his phone in to charge, softly playing with the silver beads of his phone charm. after clearing his desk, you turn to adjust his comforter softly. gently you raise his blanket to tuck him into bed, ensuring that all his gangly limbs were covered. your eye catches gojo’s soft sleeping face, he way his lip juts out slightly in his slumber mouth slightly open, his fair eyebrows scrunching like he was thinking about something. did he dream? you wondered what he could possibly dream of when he had the world at his fingertips. you hoped that if he did dream, they were peaceful ones. you hesitantly reach out to touch his cheek, convincing yourself that you were just checking his fever. you were relieved that he wasn’t as warm as he was did before, silently enjoying the way his cheek felt on your palm. “get better soon, gojo.” you whisper, watching his face relaxing at your touch. sighing, you quickly retreat your disobedient hand as you move to turn off his lamp. quiet strides to move across his room before shutting his door gently. you were already halfway into your room when you laugh softly in realization:  you did care about satoru gojo. when did that happen?

snackies!tags: @starmapz @ghost-buddies

a/n: all hail queen shoko!!! i'm so glad to finally get to write her. this chapter had some intense friendship moments that were fun to write. hope ya'll enjoyed this thick juicy chapter - head image credit: Toradora! dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[storiesoflilies]

mdni, mild smut!

gladiator!toji did not know where he was.

he had been trapped someplace the gods had forsaken, somewhere his merciless master – ryomen sukuna – had sent him as punishment. all he knew was that the desert heat here was sweltering, searing his mind in lies, and making him dream of things that had already happened long ago.

dreams that he wanted to stay in.

the sweet perfume of her scent trickled through his nose, a mixture of roses and jasmine, half waking him from the haze he had been in. it would have been torturous, were she not here with him now, roped between his bronze arms like she had melded into him. little rivulets of her spent wetness trickled down the curve of his thigh, a reminder of what they had done in the night, and toji’s cock twitched beneath the worn sheets.

she stirred in her sleep, as if touched by the burning fire in his blood.

gods.

describing her as just beautiful was not nearly enough.

toji kissed her hairline, one calloused hand tenderly rubbing her forearm to slowly rouse her from the depths of sleep.

she was the morning dewdrops clinging to the curved underside of a blade of grass, glistening with all the hopes that came with every new day. he loved the smell of it when he woke every morning, rubbed his skin with it, tasted its crisp freshness on his tongue to awake the thundering resonance in his battered soul.

he placed a trail of wet kisses down the side of her face, sweeping her jawline and the edge of her lips.

she was the soothing touch of rose petals and milk, the hummingbirds that flew between the blooms of spring. the very stars and moonlight of the heavens was in her eyes, but he had not known how to read the constellations hidden within them.

toji turned her slowly, hungrily pressing his hips into the plush curve of her behind, letting his desire be plainly known.

she smiled, honey dripping from between her lips as she whispered, “insatiable.”

toji moaned into her mouth, his heavy cock slipping in between her puffy lips. “let me have you.”

but he knew now how to read the skies.

her stars taught him to fear, and that love was fear.

she turned to him, swinging her legs over his midriff, sensually kissing his chest as rain fell to bloom an oasis in the desert. her back arched just as the light of daybreak shone through the bars of the cell, bathing her in gold and sunlight.

…daybreak?

her eyes sparked and blazed into a maroon firestorm, burning him in tempestuous uncertainty.

she never stayed so long with me.

“wake up, fushiguro,” she breathed shakily, a tone deeper, her hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him like palm trees quivering in a sandstorm.

wake up?

“fushiguro, for the love of all the gods, wake up!”

her hair shifted and warped into a snowy desert, sifting through his fingers like the passage of time in an hourglass. toji opened his eyes once more, emeralds tumbling down a mountainside, and blinked once, twice, three times more.

gladiator!tengen had a harsh grip on his shoulders, a red fury misting his eyes with determination.

“come now, i’m here to take you home.”

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[justpoliteconversations]

Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 2)

For any partnership to work, communication is key.

More self-indulgent trash for the soul.

PART: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Nothing worth mentioning.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

It seemed infinitesimal: a single apple missing from the vast pool of resources you'd amassed over the years. Barely a drop in the metaphoric ocean and you'd treated it as such. At first.

A simple miscount, you'd reasoned. Not even you, with your convenient auto-sorting ability nor years of modern schooling, was immune to the inevitably of human error.

Days passed. Nothing much changed. Except that it did.

One mistake was expected. Two was acceptable. But Three? Four? You had your suspicions, but you'd pushed them aside and carried on as usual. Ignoring the cold pit opening in your stomach with each misplaced object. Every inconceivable miscount that only seemed to pile into a whirlwind of inevitability.

It escalated, because of course it would.

When one of your swords disappeared, you ignored the thundering of your heart. When your leftover meat skewers were suddenly two less? You balled your hands in your lap to prevent them from shaking.

Then, a week after the towers rose, your warm doublet vanished right off your back, leaving you suddenly in the plain clothes beneath. You stopped paying attention to the world for a while after, taking deep breaths to ease the tension in your body.

Once able to draw breath more freely, you put on your significantly less warm overshirt and pressed onward. Stopped at the nearest stable (Dueling Peaks, hours off of your intended route), ignored your guard's concerned (annoyed in Adino's case) stares and rented three beds for the night.

It took a long time for sleep to take you, but eventually you succeeded.

When you opened your eyes it was early morning, but still later than you'd usually be up by. The stable master was just starting his day, eating a quick breakfast of eggs and porridge. You should have been gone long before anyone else in the tent had even left their beds.

Your guard, Skims, glanced over at you from his own bed, concern evident on his weathered, weary face. He must have noticed the change in your breathing as you woke. You could see the question in his eyes, the way his brows rose just slightly and his mouth quirked.

You gave him a small shake of the head, a tired smile, and he nodded in understanding before rolling out of bed with a dramatic groan. It pulled a snort from you and you just caught the edge of a satisfied smile at the corner of his lips.

Man needed another raise. Fourth one this year but his loyalty and care was well worth the expense.

With that thought you pulled yourself from bed, fighting against the spring morning chill as you removed the covers from your sleep warmed body. Putting your feet to the ground was misery, and pulling away from the plush bedding a test of your resolve.

Beside you Skims was smirking in his tired way, knowing full well just how deeply the hyrulian cold effected you. His own metabolism kept him damn near toasty in all but the harshest climates, and he took quiet glee in watching you huff and silently whine against the nip of crisp morning air.

You cast a tired eyed glare up at him and he chuckled, knowing what you were thinking. He was right, for the record. You were thinking about how sweet revenge would be the next time you made for Gerudo.

Scratch that. Skims would be all too pleased to be back in that forsaken desert. Would even request a few days off to visit his three (that's right, three) gerudo baby mama's and four daughters.

You didn't think about it too much. It wasn't your business, and as far as you knew, all participants were happy with the arrangement. It wasn't your concern.

You sighed, taking the loss for what it was. Skims, at least, had the grace to not voice it aloud. Though you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him well enough that it hardly mattered.

"I'll let Adino know we'll be heading for Hateno soon." He offered in the way of a peace offering, and at your nod he slipped out of the stable entryway without another word.

You stared after him, taking in the red-tinted dawn light bathing the world beyond. Stealing yourself against the persistent drafts leaking through the open tent flaps you began to ready yourself for the day.

You wondered if Link was okay. You were glad he had something warm to protect him through the night, even if it was at your expense.

As quickly as they'd come, you pulled away from those thoughts before they could fully take hold. Therein lies the path to lunacy, and bankruptcy.

The man now had access to your entire inventory, and if current happenings had told you anything it was that he had absolutely no qualms in using it. Be that because of his amnesia, his situation, his personality or even a mix of the three, you didn't know. And honestly, it didn't matter. The ending was the same.

Loss of merchandise. Loss of revenue. Perhaps even the loss of your business. All things you'd very much like to avoid.

Once dressed you took a moment to recenter yourself.

The next few days were going to be long and arduous.

---

You'd made it to Hateno without further delay, though you had to travel for two days nonstop to make up for lost time (stopping only to refresh the horses, much to Adino's irritation). By the end of it Skims was looking more weary than usual and Adino (a skinny hyrulian teenager with dark hair and a sour expression) more surly.

You slipped them both a few extra rupees before giving them the week off until further notice and Adino seemed to forgive you a little. Skims had just smiled gratefully, and when Adino had slipped away into the nearest alley, you'd handed Skims another hundred.

The older hyrulian's raised brows was merely answered by a small smile and a shooing motion, to which he huffed a dry laugh and obeyed the dismissal. You returned his backwards wave with one of your own even though he didn't see it. Or maybe he did.

Hard to tell with that man.

After that, you wasted no time in getting back to business. You visited all the stores on the main strip, catching up on the latest news from Pruce and giving him first pick of your more uncommon stock. He was your most valued business partner after all, and the one who gave you your moniker.

You owed him so much for helping you find your feet in those overwhelming early days. He'd put so much time and effort into your integration, bought so many god-damned unnecessary apples because you'd had nothing else to offer.

First pick of the batch was the least you could do in return for his continued kindness.

"There's a new house for sale." Pruce said conversationally, leaning against the counter as he begun picking through his new merchandise.

"Oh?" You'd inquired back politely, not really interested but willing to hear out any bits of information that may one day prove useful to you.

"Yeah. The abandoned one across the old bridge. The council has decided to sell it. If it doesn't go within the month, it's getting demolished."

Something nagged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't pin it down before it slipped away. Instead of dwelling on it, you thanked him for the information and took your leave.

The rest of that afternoon was rather uneventful. You walked the village back roads with quiet nostalgia, gazing up at the newly blossoming apple trees and freshly grown grass with heartfelt fondness. Eventually you passed the budding fields nestled in the far back of the village. Beyond that, the solitary apple tree you'd first been enamored with when you'd first arrived in this world.

And there it stood, seemingly unchanged after five years. Always the early bloomer. And bearer.

You touched the weathered bark gently, letting the rough surface ground you once more in reality. "Hello. You're as magnificant as ever, my friend. May this year be fruitful for you." It was silent as expected, but you leaned your head to the trunk and sent your thanks to it regardless.

Your first lifeline, a silent reminder of everything this world had given you. Even if no one understood, this tree deserved your utmost respect.

You took your time walking back to the village proper, breathing in the fresh, cool air with renewed appreciation. You were reminded once more that this land, these people, this new life had been kind to you.

With the uncertainty of Link's awakening lingering in your mind, you needed that reminder now more than ever.

Feeling lighter than you had in weeks, out of curiosity you took the long way around to inspect the new property for sale. Not that you had any intention of buying, but it wouldn't hurt to look.

It did, in fact, hurt. Like the scene from an overly dramatic psychological thriller, the moment you laid eyes on the house you remembered.

50,000 Rupees. Bolson. Link. The deal.

During your other life, when this had all been just a game, you'd dismissed the initial offer the first time you'd talked to Bolson. He'd then presented a discounted offer of 3000 and some odd amount of wood immediately after.

You'd never taken the first offer. It hadn't been practical for you at the time. You hadn't had the means to make that much rupees in such a short amount of time.

But Link had no limitations this go around.

He had your checkbook at his fingertips and no issue utilizing it.

50,000 rupees.

50 Thousand rupees.

Fifty Thousand rupees.

Fuck...

---

A moblin lumbered about the dense forest in slow, stumbling steps, sniffing at the air in search of its hidden adversary. It snorted, picking up an acorn and huffing at it inquisitively, tossing it away when it gave it no leads.

Hidden in the topmost branches of an elder tree, Link scrolled through his Sheikah slate, unbothered. Not much of anything felt threatening to him in these parts, not with the stash of weaponry and armor sets he'd found in his slate's inventory.

Especially not with the fairies stored away in there. 249 to be exact. Formerly 252.

Not for the first time he wondered who the slate belonged to before him. It most certainly had an owner at some point, if the sheer amount of useful items within it was anything to go by.

Had they died? He hoped not. That didn't seem right to him, though he couldn't pinpoint why he thought this.

Honestly, he didn't know much of anything. He just knew he was happy to have all these useful things waiting for him when he...woke up.

He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he'd started out with nothing. Not even memories of what to do to sustain and better himself.

He pulled a honey candy from the slate and popped it in his mouth as he continued to scroll, ignoring the moblin stomping around the base of the tree. It'd never find him anyway, simple-minded as it was. He hummed in happiness as the sweet treat began to melt on his tongue, ears twitching with delight.

After a time, he eventually made it near the end of the list (pulling some fire chuchu jelly from it) and was about to take care of his unwelcome guest. Until he noticed something off.

Some of the items near the end of the list looked fewer then before. Not just fewer, in fact. Some were gone entirely.

Link tilted his head, bright blue eyes widening with interest, candy held forgotten between his teeth. His breath hitched a bit, something warm and fierce growing rapidly in his chest as he noted more and more discrepancies he'd failed to notice before.

He spit the candy out and it hit the moblin on the head, causing it to growl lowly and whip it's head around in search of its assailant. Link wasn't paying attention to that though. That wasn't important.

At the very end of the inventory list he found a note. A simple slip of paper with his name emblazoned on it with black ink.

His heart begun race at the sight of it.

This was it. Proof that this slate had belonged to someone before. No. That there was someone, right now, who had access to the same technology, was bound to the same destiny.

They knew his name. They knew he was there in the world, and they were reaching out to him.

He wasn't alone. They're alive. They're real.

He was not alone anymore.

He wasted no time in taking the note from the inventory, face lighting up with awe as he took in the contents of the paper.

A dozen fire jellies, a torch and a piece of flint made quick work of the moblin, ripping it apart in a flash of light so suddenly it hadn't even the chance to properly squeal in terror.

Link paid its abruptly silenced death throes no mind. Instead, he jumped from the tree with one powerful leap, snapping his glider open to soar over the valley laid out far below.

He had no time for distractions now. He had to get to Kakariko as soon as possible, find this Impa woman and get directions to Hateno.

The voice in his head would have to wait a little longer. This Calamity guy too. Right now he had more pressing matters.

He needed get to Hateno. Where his new home was. Where their home was.

---

Link,

There is a house waiting for you in Hateno. Present this Proof of Purchase to the Village Council upon arrival.

Be sure to inform me before making any purchases exceeding 10,000 rupees. Use this note system to relay details.

If applicable, forward a list of necessary items and I will precure them for you.

Let's work well together. I look forward to doing business with you.

Your's truly,

AM

---

Must return to the shadows to recharge and recoup. (I lied. I stayed up editing this instead of sleeping. Don't post tired, you make lots of errors.)

[readychilledwine]

5 Steps Forward, 2 Steps Back

Rhysand Week Day 5 - Survivor

Summary - 50 years without your mate and husband seems almost easy now that you two are facing his recovery

Warnings - implied Rhysand power surge causing a similar situation, mental health, depression, recovery, angst, training, the power of choice coming into play

A/N - Happy Day 5 of @officialrhysandweek! This one was rough to write. Mental health is such a huge under discussed topic, and Rhysand, I feel, would be a huge advocate for it. Becoming a survivor is something many will say is process and choice. Rhysand definitely made the choice to recover and fight, and I imagine he leaned heavily on the IC to do so. I think that's so powerful. This was my favorite prompt for this week.

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

The wine bottle and plates shattered on the floor were a clear sign that things weren't actually okay.

You released a breath from the chair you sat in, unsure of what had even happened. You and Rhysand had been talking. He'd been having a great day. But now? Now, the dinner you had spent hours making for your mate was all over the floor, ruined as you sat there shaking in fear.

“I didn't mean to do that,” he gasped out as if he was trying to breathe again. “I don't know what happened. I-” Rhysand's powers had been what happened. He had zoned out while eating, he had let himself relax, let himself be vulnerable.

“It's okay.”

“You're fucking terrified. It's not okay!”

He was angry with himself, with his inability to control his mind and emotions. You had to move to separate rooms to sleep. You had to use magic to change the flowers in the garden. You had to remove all dresses that reminded him of her from your closet. He knew you were doing this because you love him. Because you were his mate. Because you hoped he would heal.

But he didn't see that light most days. He was trapped in an ocean of emotion. Drowning as he so desperately tried to reach the surface where light was reflecting, mocking him. Happiness was just out of his reach, laughing in his face as he struggled.

Your hands were folded in your laps as your enchantments on the Riverhouse cleaned the mess, “We can go to Rita's or somewhere quiet.”

“We can go to Rita's or somewhere quiet,” he repeated back sarcastically. “Maybe you should go and I'll just stay here.”

It was a punch to the gut. You released another shaking breath, “Rhys-”

“We should consider separation. I am not who you need me to be anymore and I don't know if I ever will be again,” with lethal grace he stood, leaving you alone at the table. Your appetite was gone. How could you want food when your heart was fairly sure it had just stopped?

Seconds were minutes. Minutes were hours. Hours passed like days.

You sat there waiting, crying, hoping he'd come back, hoping this was just an irrational statement that you two could talk about. But his face. His tone. Everything made you pause, holding a tight breath in your chest before releasing a loud sob.

Rhys had been home from the mountain for a month. His trauma had only been healing for a month. You had not expected progress. You had only wished to be a source of light for him, a tether of brightness as he sat in the dark. For 50 years you had prayed for him. You'd pray for 50 more if that's what it took, but you were lying to yourself if you tried to pretend it didn't bother you when you denied your kisses. Pretended it didn't bother you when he wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't look at you.

Your husband and mate was gone. Deep in his mourning, his heartache, his pain. You stood and walked to your room, not even taking a moment to glance at the lavish walls and plush furniture. Collapsing onto your bed, you laid there. The heels you wore ached, the dress you were wearing felt too right, everything felt wrong in this room.

The wrong soft silk sheets. The wrong scent. The wrong temperature. It wasn't the bed you two shared. It wasn't Rhysand's scent cocooning you. It wasn't the warmth of his wings sitting across you like a weighted blanket. It was empty.

Rhysand was in the same place in the marriage bed you should have been in. He had his head resting in his hands, eyes shut as he took deep stilling breaths. Hurting you was his biggest fear these days. 50 years being powerless, of being abused and used, of her. Your love for him, the way you had not even screamed, the way you'd only held him, it almost was too much.

He'd prepared for anger, for yelling, for anything besides you falling to your knees and begging to help him. What had happened to him felt like ash sitting in his stomach. A poison just waiting to kill.

But even ash had a cure.

Even his darkest moments could have light if we just continued to fight.

And so the next morning, he did. He forced himself out of his cold bed at 5am, throwing in training leathers before entering the chambers across from his that you slept in. “I'm going to go train,” he whispered into your ear. It was a sense of normalcy, a pattern you two held every day before those long dreaded year.

He'd whisper to you every morning, telling you where he was going, how long he'd be gone, and most importantly, the words he said next, “I love you, darling.”

The ghost of a smile came to your face, the bond subconsciously responding to him. “I love you and I'm going to fight for me. For us,” his hushed tone still rang through your sleeping soul, his voice so low and sure. “Don't give up on me.”

“Never,” you responded in your sleep. “Never give up.”

Rhysand fought harder that morning with Cassian. Hands striking true and hard as they practiced hand to hand, body moving in a pattern and rhythm he thought he'd long forgotten.

You walked out to grunts and Azriel yelling encouragement. To the sound of wings fluttering and flaring. To sand moving with the force of the powerful males before you. This was him, this was Rhysand. This was his mind, throwing his anger and his frustration right where he needed. This was him finally taking the offer of his brothers to be his target.

“Left side,” Azriel yelled. “Left!”

You flinched for Cassian as Rhysand pounded that opening, the rookie mistake handing Rhysand an advantage. “Come on, Rhys,” Azriel shouted again.

You continued to watch, tray with waters in your hands as Rhysand made the choice and fought so much more than just his brother today.

A leg sweep. A basic move Rhysand had spent hours teaching you. That's what it took for him to take down Cassian. Azriel was the first to react, running to Rhysand and picking him up to celebrate the General's back meeting the sand pit they picked to train in. Cassian's deep laughter tore through the air next, joy shaking the trees and your bones as he realized Rhys had won. You set the water down before being the one to help pull Cass up, barely staying steady as you did.

Rhysand and Azriel were still celebrating his hand to hand win against Cassian as you leaned against said male. “You left your side open on purpose,” you stated under a steady breath.

Warm eyes met yours, “And if I did?”

“Why? He's never going to let this go.”

Cassian only kissed your hair before answering in a hushed, deep tone, “Because he said once when we were little that the day he beats me hand to hand is the day he learns he can beat anything. It's time for him to learn he can beat anything, especially when he makes the choice to.”

"It will not be an easy fight," you held Cassian's eyes.

The General gave you his signature smirk, "Then I guess it's good all of us are here to fight with him."

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