#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!!

[kisakunt]

megumi’s pissed— pissed with a big, capital p. he’s bothered a lot; irritated and agitated with people daily, no stranger to fingers curling into a fist either at his sides or to the top of someone’s head. but right now, in the cold of your room, he’s pissed.

“take this shit off.” he won’t dare lift his hands himself because if megumi is a man of anything it’s principle. you laugh— louder than a giggle but nonetheless muffled by your pursed lips— and shake your head.

“no can do, nutmeg.” and now he’s really mad.

“don’t call me that.” he’s itching, his normally protruding hair flattened, his palms clammy, his breathing shallow.

“c’mon, why are you so miserable all the time?” it’s a slow drawl, a whine that he has to force himself to ignore. “can’t you show a little joy? maybe even some jubilance? or dare you say it might kill you?”

your name comes out stern, calculated and pointed in a way he knows will get to you, and simply, he repeats himself.

“take this shit off.”

megumi fushiguro is not a big believer of tradition. he has never obsessed over a birthday— although he did buy you a singular cupcake and candle on yours— or stressed at the thought of marriage. he’s not big on anniversaries and he couldn’t care less about a baby shower or bachelor party, so naturally holiday’s mean nothing to him.

you on the other hand are, in his own words, a nutcase. you’d met him two weeks before the christmas prior and insisted you get each other small trinkets. on valentine’s day you gave everyone you knew a card, on easter you mastered the art of making your very own chocolate, on halloween you bought a costume that he refused to wear.

and now, here you are again; snow on the ground outside and a small, and frankly sad, tree in your room symbolizing not only the biggest day of your year but an absolutely grueling year of knowing you.

you sit in front of him, criss cross, with a goofy little grin on your face. he can’t help but think it’s utterly disgusting that that’s doing something for him. regardless though, he stands his ground.

“if you don’t take this off right now i’m not talking to you for a week.” you laugh for real this time, shaking your head with more energy than before.

“well we both know that’s a lie. i’d probably drop dead if you did that and then, overwhelmed by guilt, you’d turn into an even weirder and sadder old man.”

“i’m not old. take this shit off.” atop his head sat a truthfully horrific santa hat. it couldn’t have cost more than two dollars, assortment of dim led lights on the trim. he can’t help but think of how many little, lice ridden kids must have tried this on. but he still won’t budge.

“you know you can just take it off yourself, right?” he does know that— obviously— but again, he has beliefs. he has pride. it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact you’re looking at him like he’s heaven on earth or the matching hat smothering your own hair. it has nothing to do with you at all.

he shifts, leaning his body weight onto his left side as he presses his hands into the plush of your bed to lift himself up. he makes a little show of it, slow and meticulous as he barely raises himself.

it would be so easy to avoid this situation. it would be so simple to shake his head or yank the hat off or have stopped you from putting it there to begin with.

megumi’s pissed, but it’s not with you.

“i’m serious. it’d actually be nice to have a moment of quiet in my brain.” megumi is furious, livid and squirming in his own skin. he’s absolutely, unequivocally angry.

he’s angry because he can’t figure out why for the dear life of him there’s a tightly wrapped gift tucked in the bottom of his bag, or why he knows the nearly exact color hex of your eyes, or why he’s hummed— hummed— the song ‘war is over’ twice this week.

you grumble, butt hurt and annoyed now too, and you reach over as fast as you can and snatch it off of him.

“there,” and now megumi’s even more upset because that upset him and his head feels cold and empty now. “happy now?”

and before he can think, before he can be as calculated as he always is, it slips.

“no.” and in that moment something shifts. it’s both of you, just a little bit towards each other, it’s the tension that’s now (and always has been) in the air, it’s the way your hat slips a little to the side.

“well i just can’t win with you, can i?” the— his— hat lays loose between your fingers, your voice quieter than he thinks he’s ever heard it.

megumi wonders time to time if he’s a coward. he knows he’s strong, he knows he’s just in his opinions, he knows he fights. but sometimes he freezes and sometimes he panics and sometimes he can’t look you in the eye.

maybe it’s time for him to be brave. he leans into you, closer to you, breathing you all in and, brushing your fingers in the process, he takes it back from you.

suddenly it’s warm again. suddenly you’re matching again. suddenly he feels close to you again.

“there.” for once, it feels like christmas to megumi. “happy now?” and it feels like he’s got a gift in front of him.

[shomatoriashi]

02/09/25; 09:40pm

sylus x fem.reader

obligatory tags: @voidsylus | @daturasflower | @madam8

warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting.

you let out a sharp gasp of pain, feeling a dull ache forming against your temples as you struggled to keep your nausea at bay.

this had to be a migraine, one that was potent enough to make your stomach turn sour as your brain was felt pounding against the confines of your skull. your boyfriend had left momentarily to grab the groceries that had been delivered to your shared home-

leaving you feeling dizzy and alone as you braced yourself against the onyx counters. your vision had gone hazy, casting what looked like spider webs across your line of sight, your steps uneven when you attempt to walk into a nearby restroom.

you became dimly aware of heavy steps and a grunt of your name, a powerful pair of arms wrapped around your form to help with your balance. “sweetie, what’s wrong?”

you swallow thickly, struggling to get the words out, “sick… bathroom, now!”

needing no further urging from you, sylus picks up your form with ease, taking quick strides towards your master bedroom as he helped you brace yourself over the toilet. you hid your face, your dry heaves echoing throughout the area as you felt the contents of your lunch come out of you. along with the horrible sensation of puking your guts out, the intensity of your headache seemed to grow by a tenfold, leaving you drained and miserable by the end of it all.

sylus flushed the toilet, wiping at your face with a damp and warm handkerchief. he wipes at the corner of your mouth with concern shining within his rufescent eyes. “what happened? we ate the same meal for lunch-“

“migraine… it came suddenly.” you admit to him with a gasp, practically clinging to sylus’s broad chest when he carries you out of the bathroom and into your shared room.

“i told you that you needed to stop staying up so late, waiting for me. that migraine must have been triggered by your lack of sleep.” sylus gently scolds you, and you could only bring yourself to let out a soft whimper in response. clinging to the front of his shirt, you rest the side of your cheek against his chest, allowing sylus to settle you on top of the bed.

placing the comforter over your form, sylus disappears momentarily before coming back into the room with some medication and a cold bottle of water in hand. he takes out two white tablets and hands them to you, “take this. it should help with easing your pain.”

you nod, praying that your vision would return to normal soon when you place the tablets within your mouth. taking the bottle of water, you uncap it and drink as much as you could handle, making sure that you had swallowed the tablets.

a few minutes later, the webs finally dissipate from your vision while dimming down the harsh intensity of your migraine to a tiny simmer. your mind was clearer now, and you were able to see sylus’s smug face smirking down at you.

“hm, what’s got you grinning like that?” you ask while giving his chest a poke with your fingertip. he simply shakes his head, letting out a rich chuckle while grabbing a hold of your hand to place a kiss at the back of them. “nothing, sweetie, it’s just… i find it nice to see you depending so much on me. i could honestly get used to it.”

you roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance while at the same time gripping his wrist. you pull him into the bed, and despite how laughable it was to think that you could ever overpower sylus-

he falls into the plush mattress with you, already taking you within his arms while rolling back into bed. feeling the sensation of his sweet kisses against your hair, you visibly relax while clinging to him. no words were spoken, yet you could feel the depths of his devotion for you through his actions alone.

perhaps you could get used to relying on him as well ♡

end notes: hhhhh i wanted to write and post something cute for valentine’s day for all the lads men, but i have a bad headache, so have some fluff with my favorite husband instead 😖

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[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.

[amoristt]

stripped || night falls like heaven - extended

part one (x) part 2 (x)

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: nsfw // AFAB, make-up sex, oral f!recieving, smut, namgyu is a munch fr, grinding, overstimulation,

a/n: heres a lil extended bit for anyone interested ;) takes place after the games, imagine you two got out together or something LOL i love a needy yearning namgyu word count: 5.5k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

It’s all exactly the same as you remembered- down to the last minute detail. Somehow Nam-gyu had managed to change so little that it genuinely shocked you after breaching the doorway. The same blanket thrown over the backside of his couch, the same artwork barely straightened on his walls giving the illusion of a decorated space despite everything else appearing so bland. Even the energy felt the same albeit a tad bit colder. 

But you still feel all the air leave you when you step inside, regardless. A feeling long forgotten and far away buried in your brain falls into place.

The door clicks shut and you hear it- the unmistakable sound of a lock switching on. Something pavlovian alights within you, a hound finding scent and closing in. Dirty paws, drooling jowls, you let it chase you into his arms the moment he turns away from the door. Removing his shoes becomes a struggle to balance with kissing you, dragging his sneakers off with his other foot so he could properly hold your face in his hands and lick into your mouth. 

You’ve seen this film before. 

Knew it line by line, frame by frame. 

His shoes slip off with a final shove before you’re having to actually focus in order to keep up with him. Backing you up, guiding you into the heart of his apartment with quick steps and broad hands dragging down your body to keep you upright. It feels so good to just let him walk you, to shut your eyes and balance your weight on his hold. Heart thrashing in your ears, this electric buzz vibrating under your skin from your fingertips down to the growing wetness between your thighs. 

A flash of panic hits you when something hard hits the backs of your legs, spine craning as you nearly topple over it, but Nam-gyu is quick to catch you by your waist. It’s instinct to wrap your legs around him when he fills the gap and drags you against his body, teeth and lips ducking down to drag down your jugular. From under your skin you’re sure the flat of his tongue could feel the rheumatic beats drumming throughout your body. 

The couch- you realize, or at least the armrest of it, is just as soft as you remembered. Always such a welcome sight when you’d tumble into the apartment wasted on alcohol and the taste of his tongue. 

“Thought you were gonna’ replace this old thing.” Breathless, chest heaving under his touch, a smile grazing your lips.

Nam-gyu just shakes his head, can’t form the words to respond, and he sinks his canines into the plush flesh of your throat. Drags his tongue along the mark of his bite to sooth. 

The ghost of his name leaves you in a sigh as those lips of his latch onto your skin below your jaw. A shiver ripples from you directly into him, goosebumps dotting his arms as he shudders from the sound of your voice murmuring his name so sweetly. You do it again just to hear him groan into your neck, a primal reply, deep and red-hot within the depths of his chest. 

Stripping off your shirt is made into quick work and it’s discarded somewhere along the floor, his own shirt joining the pile moments later. Your breath stutters in your chest when he presses against you, his skin warm and alive against your own. Without even bothering to ask, shushing any chance of complaints by locking your lips against his, he reaches up to unlatch your bra. It too falls away in a heaping pile tumbling down your body and onto the floor. Chill hits you, and he’s moving against you like waves over a rocky shore. Chest to chest, flushed and fervent. He’s memorized you, mastered the art of you. 

“Missed this.” He admits, with a quiet voice broken up by his own panting. 

Nam-gyu’s so focused on tasting you, feeling you pressed tight against him, that he doesn’t immediately notice it when he’s leaning you backwards and almost sending you dropping onto the cushions. Your leg loses its grip for a moment, only for him to readjust you by hiking you back up and letting your waists meet one another. Fingers digging into the fabric of the arm rest, you don’t stop yourself from rutting against him with half lidded eyes. 

Even through the thickness of his jeans, you can feel his cock pressed right up against your core.

“Nam-gyu.” A dying whine stuck in the well of your throat, lips parting everytime he grinds the hardness against you. Another shudder wracks him, down deep to his very root.

“Fuck.” 

Black strands of hair falling from his ears, his eyes focused pointedly on where your bodies should be conjoined. His fingers could grip marks into your skin as he presses against you harder, makes sure you’re right flush against him when he rolls into you. Fuck, he’s so hard from under his pants, solid and heavy and needy for your attention. You give it- reaching out to unzip his pants, watching him lean back only for a moment to give you the space to pull his cock free from it’s confines. 

The sight of him makes you clench on nothing, a zip of pleasure fluttering down to your cunt. Your lip finds itself caught between your teeth and you don’t wait to ask before you’re stroking down his member. His breath bates, those almond eyes of his drinking in the sight of your lovely fingers grasping his thick shaft and pumping along his length. Twitching when you run your thumb over his swollen head, biting back groans at every drag. 

Your eyes never leave his face. It’s your favorite part of him. To get to watch all that anxious anticipation of his melt away into gratification is a gift from the gods themselves. All those lines, all that tension buffed out with a lusty glaze, and those beautiful lips of his parting to sigh out hisses and grunts. Loosens him up, makes him tip his head back and let you have him however you want. 

With a particularly good squeeze of his shaft, he can’t help but jump his hips forward and rock into your loose fist. Drags himself along your palms, so easy to provoke, so lovely to watch. This time he’s more reactive than you’ve ever seen, almost needy, and you wonder just how badly Nam-gyu had been craving this. The desire rolls off him in palpable waves, the aura of him alone eager with passion. 

So entranced in the sight of him, you’re genuinely shocked when he willingly draws his leaking cock from your warm grasp. There isn’t a single time he’s ever left your touch anything less than begrudgedly, so this was certainly new. Uncharted territory that grows even further foreign when he scoots you to the very edge of the arm rest and drops to his knees between your legs. 

“Woah-” Your hands find his shoulders, bracing yourself, blinking down at him like a startled doe. Forget whatever you had said earlier- this was new. 

“Don’t fall off.” He says, breathless, nimble fingers dragging the zipper of your pants down. 

Deft when he unbuttons them next, and you’re hypnotized, watching his hands work to pull your pants down your body, pooling below you. Your panties follow, gone with experience and practiced ease. Air failing your lungs, a shiver rippling up your spine when the cold hair hits your dripping sex. 

Nam-gyu pulls your legs over his shoulders and wraps his arms around your waist to keep you upright. White knuckling the fabric of the couch with one hand, the other burying itself in his thick hair, you wait with bated breaths. He’s just staring at you- at it, with this glint in his eye you can’t quite place. 

“You good?” You’re terrified to speak, afraid he’d retreat, but you feel so exposed in front of him it’s actually starting to make you anxious and that just won’t do. 

His eyes flicker up to yours for just a moment. “I’m good.”

“Alright well…” Thighs just barely trying to close, your gaze that suddenly can’t meet his. “Can you…?”

Oh god. You can feel his smirk, the breaths of his chuckling.

“Why? Scared?” He unwraps one of his arms from your waist so he could paw at your thigh, slowly snaking it towards that heat inches from his face. “Or just can’t wait?” 

“Just-” You cover your face- you have to do something to hide the furious red bristling over your cheeks and neck. “Please.”

Through your fingers, you see the way his eyes darken. Can see his tongue swipe out over his lips before he drags it up along the slit of your folds. Again and again, tentative, careful.

Pure satisfaction rolls off your tongue in whines, equal parts finally having that silver tongue of his lapping away at your cunt and the realization that he’s still inexperienced. Gratifying pride swells within you and mingles with the sparks of pleasure zipping through your body every time he catches a swipe of your clit. 

When Nam-gyu zeroes in at that little spot, your legs try to close around him with a cried yip of pleasure. The motion reinforces him- and he stays there, flicks his tongue over your clit until he just decides to suck the little nub between his lips. That makes you keen, makes you whimper his name high and loud from somewhere in the back of your throat. 

It hits him like stone. His grip noticeably tightens and he moans into your soaked cunt. Nestles his face nice and deep and drinks you in with a craven desire, this endless urge to have his fix of you. To stay still was damn near impossible for you, your legs jumping on his shoulders as you felt yourself drawn towards a orgasm you hadn’t expected to meet quite so soon. 

“Baby, slow down.” But he doesn’t listen to your useless whines. Not when you’re still burying your hand in his hair and urging him to tilt his head and swirl his tongue over your clit. 

His other arm leaves your waist and you’re struggling to stay upright, almost daring to complain until you realize he’s using his now free hand to pump his cock while he devoured you. Another lance of excitement rivets through you, drops right down to your cunt. 

Everything is rocking through you in waves, from the mounting fire in your belly to the sheer fact that Nam-gyu was buried in between your legs, absolutely drunk on your pussy, using the hand on your thigh to pull your lips apart and find more of you. You’re ravaged, eaten whole, lost in the feeling of being consumed by his eager mouth. It's all ripping an orgasm from you before you’ve even gotten to properly appreciate this gift from god. 

Smart parts of you had washed him away from the forefront of your mind, but you know in your heart, your body has always belonged to Nam-gyu.

Craves him, can only be satisfied by him. The sounds you make offer no effort to hide the way you’d wanted this since you’d left him all those years ago.

“I’m- I’m-”

That’s all you manage before your back is arching so intensely it could kill. Red hot pleasure races through your body and settles behind your eyes, the sight of his ceiling this unending void, grappling with the onslaught of rapture. Thighs struggling to snap shut around the intrusion of his head, a desperate cry tearing from your throat when he’s still spreading you nice and open for his tongue.

Greedy, a man starved, licking and sucking every last drop until you’re crying his name and begging for a moment of reprieve. Even as he leaves the space for him between your legs against his will, he’s kissing marks into your skin starting from your hips, your stomach, up to your throat and then planting firmly on your lips. 

Tasting yourself on his lips is more satisfying than anything else, and the red flush of the tip of his cock makes you shiver with anticipation. All the time’s he’d said no, always taking and never giving, you can’t help but grin against his mouth. Perhaps he doesn't notice it- busy in you, kissing you like it could be the last time all over again. Hands find your thighs and he’s lifting you off from where you sit just to drop you on the cushions, your back meeting the plushness with a soft oof leaving your lips. 

He's back on you before you can reel your foggy thoughts in, but you still find it in yourself to turn the tables. Climbing into his lap was messy and haphazard, but everything clicked into place as soon as you were able let his cock slip through your folds. His head slips through the heat and nudges against your clit every time you rock your hips.

You know he wants nothing more than to grip your hips and shove your cunt over his length down to the very hilt, but he holds back, lets you grinds against him instead and listens to your pleased mewls.

“Can’t get enough of you.” He chirps between kisses on your throat.

It’s hard to keep up with him even when you're on top- he’s touching you everywhere he can and covering you so entirely that everything else ceases to exist. You’re losing it, head dizzy with his scent and the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you’ll be damned to slip into those same old carnal habits. Palms find your waist, sliding up to your rib cage and then back down over the curve of your hips idly. 

His cock is needy, leaking precum and lonely, and you take mercy by running your thumb over the swollen tip. Nam-gyu makes a noise so obscene it makes you blush. It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard- wanton and shameless and he’s looking like putty in your hands. You do it again, you have to, just to hear that sound leave those lips of his again. His head tips back against the cushion, black hair splaying over his face, and he slings an arm over his eyes. 

“Don’t cover your face.”

His expression is downright tortured when you shove his arm away the same way he’d done so many times to you. Face tomato red, eyes glimmering with lust, fuck, you could stare at him all day. 

Languid strokes have him rocking his hips up to your loose grasp, jumping every time you press the soft pad of your thumb over his head. You drive him crazy until he’s had enough and he’s covering your hand with his own, your breath stuttering when he leans to kiss you and grabs you hard by the hips. He’s painfully hard underneath you, and you’d be lying to say you aren’t downright aching for him. You swear you can feel him just my memory alone, all those deep places right and bruised, but then you squeeze around pure emptiness. 

“You want me to ride you?” You want to be slow, to savor this part of him fresh to your experience, but you need him so bad it’s begun to hurt. 

Nam-gyu’s grip on your hips tightens when he nods.

It takes all 30 seconds for you to reach down and line his tip up with your slit, your lip caught between your teeth. His eyes are locked on the sight, his cock dragging pretty lines along your pussy, frozen in time. Hypnotized and entranced, uncharacteristically still as you sink down onto him, folds splitting around his swollen length until he’s buried to the very hilt inside your plush, wet cunt. 

The walls take the brunt of the echoes, your keens high and loud, satisfied at the stretched you longed for so deeply. 

“Oh my god,” Nam-gyu groans. His head drops back again, eyes screwed shut. Tries to buck his hips but you make quick work to shut that down. When you lift off partially, it pains you just as much as it pains him, but you’ve got a point to prove, damn it. 

Actually, you aren’t entirely sure if it hurt you just as much, because it takes a lot for Nam-gyu to settle himself. Clenched fists and these agonized eyes boring into your own, suffering when he’s got your pussy swallowing his cock and you aren’t allowing him to drive into you with fervent fury. He twitches inside of you, all muscles tensed. 

“Come on, why’re you doing this to me?” He whines, but he doesn’t move. Let’s you force him to be still even though he knew if he really wanted to lose control he could fuck you stupid right then and there. And you’d be happy to let him. A brainless, warm and wet thing ready to take him anyway he pleased.

A grin plays at your lips, cheshire and sickeningly sweet. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you sink back down with a sigh until he's so deep you're sure you can feel him in your throat.  

He chokes, eyes slipping shut. “God, you’re fucking soaked.”

“So big,” You whine, and that grin on your face grows when he replies with something garbled and forgotten in pleasure. “You missed this, baby?”

“Yes.”

With a roll of your hips, he clutches your waist and you know you’ve got him right where you want him. Stripped down to his very bones, bared and vulnerable, all the bits of him kept hidden away left open to reveal something soft, something lovely. Passion so uncontrolled he may truly die if his hands aren’t flush to your skin and his cock isn’t buried in the heat of you. 

“You want me?” Another nod, frantic, barely hearing. A slow, slow drag to his tip before you’re bottoming out with a sharp moan. “So you’re my…?”

“Boyfriend.” Doesn’t even try to hold it back- lets it tumble from his lips like it’d never been this taboo monster haunting his every day since you’d grown under the beds of his skin. Both the beautiful blooming flower, and the weed that could never seen to die off. 

A simple reward, another rock of your hips and the perfect squeeze of your walls around him. The stretch of him was like nothing else, reaching the very core of you, touching and dragging and making it hard to think. Filling you so wholly that you’re convinced you were born for this- crafted of clay and built to house the curve of his cock, the thick tip meant to nudge against your cervix. Muscle memory takes over and you’re rolling your hips with a desperation you struggled to keep leashed.  

Then he goes and makes sounds that have you almost cumming right then, right there. 

“Gonna treat me right?” You plant kisses to his neck, then up to his jaw. The corner of his mouth before you’re licking into his lips and he invites you in eagerly. He moans yes and you swallow the sound with a delighted shiver. 

Your poor cunt had been so lonely without him, drooling everytime you meet him at the base before you’re dragging back up to do it all over again. Smearing slick over his lower abdomen with every bounce, hands clutching whatever they could find. 

To pin you down and ravage you is in his very nature. It’s like taming a wolf, wrapping a leash onto it’s burly neck and demanding it to sit, to stay. It’s Nam-gyu’s very purpose in life to have you writhing underneath him dizzy and forgetful under his hand, so to let you languidly use him as you see fit, is making him prickle up. But it feels so good- makes him tense his jaw and twitch his fingers to grab, grab, grab. A pitiful grunt leaves him in a huff when you stop moving entirely. 

“What’s wrong?” You chirp with a smirk. He looks at you with this quiet frantic need, fighting himself. 

“Fuck,” His breath stutters. He’s losing it. “Keep going.”

A slow lick up his neck, hands that explore the softness of his skin. “Tellin' me what to do?”

“Baby, come on,” Nam-gyu’s gripping you hard enough to leave marks again. “Just- Just let me-”

“Don’t you dare.” Your tone is warning as much as it is teasing, planting yourself firmly down in his lap. “I’ll get up and leave right now.”

Oh, how it hurts him. How he twists his fingers into the blanket beside him on the couch, all gritting teeth and fervent. 

“Baby, please,” And please is so sweet on his tongue. 

You nip his neck before you pull back to get a good look at his face. “You’re all mine, yeah?”

He nods, but it’s not good enough for you. You grip his chin and you make him look at you, revel in the red flush thats growing hotter on his face by the second. His lips are parted with short beraths, and his hair is falling over his face in gorgeous strands of ebony. 

“Say it.” You murmur, dragging your thumb over his lower lip. 

“Baby-”

“Say it.” 

“I’m yours- fuck.” Words lost in his throat when you constrict around him and start to rock your hips again.

Your breath is stuck in your throat, but you whine out demands regardless. He’s jumping his hips up to meet you and you know you could put him back in place but it feels too good- hitting parts of you you’d been dreaming of. “Say it again.” 

“All yours, baby, I’m yours.”

Pride swells within your chest, both parts sadistic and adoring. A flutter that makes you feel weightless as you bounce along his shaft and he meets you there just as intensely, lapping you in, drinking you up. Twitching hips and the weight of his cock inside of you is perfectly intrusive and heavy. A simmer is stirring deep in your belly. Demands that you let it all go, have him in the way you’d been wanting for years. 

Let him take you and show you just how badly he missed your pussy. 

“Promise?” You're losing control, a whimpering moan into his mouth, teeth catching his lower lip. He chases your mouth and his tongue twists with yours. 

“Promise.”

You think, like this, you could make him say anything. Do anything. You break away from the kiss to get a good look at that gorgeous face of his, flushed red and eyes both far away and laser focused on you. 

“Okay,” You whisper as you pet down his face, watching him through thick lashes. “Fuck me.”

The position switch is so quick it makes you dizzy. One moment you’re on his lap and then next your back is pressed flat to the couch cushions. He's all over you, covering you, dragging your legs around his waist. You’re empty for longer than you’d prefer, squeezing around nothing while the apartment blurs behind the outline of him, but he fills you back up to your overflowing brim sooner than you can complain. 

Head tipped back in ecstasy, stuffed so impossibly deep, he doesn’t waste a second to leave you wanting. It’s both parts primal and intimate, guttural cries leave your lips and the slapping of skin on skin could put a porno to shame. His hands find your waist to keep you right and flat when you start to squirm under the raw brutality of his lust. Drives into you with an intensity that’s foreign- hard and carnal, like he truly thinks he’s taking you.

“Fuck, so fucking good,” His voice is nothing but course stammers, lost in your heat. “Oh my god, baby, needed this so bad.”

The keen that responds to him is only fodder for the fire. Even more fuel when drive your heels into his lower back, but you want more. You need more- need to feel him fuck you mindless and dumb and see the bruises littering your skin tomorrow morning. 

“Harder, harder-”

Nam-gyu sacrifices an ounce of speed to give you what you want. Sacrifices one of his hands on your waist too, reaches up and grips hard to the backrest of the couch to give him better momentum to slam every inch of his length into your cunt. He’s so deep you’re sure he’s ruining you, it hurts but you toss your head back and cry out his name anyways. 

“Thought about this every night, god, look at you.” His other hand on your waist leaves to drag ringed fingers down the planes of your face, thumb dragging along your puffy lower lip. 

You’re riled up beyond belief. More than you’d ever been, you think, euphoric chimes of pleasure are pulsating through you in tandem with your racing heart. Every word out of his mouth makes you even hotter- skin flushed swelteringly hot and an unmistakable tension growing in your lower belly. 

“Feels so good-!” You manage between stuttering breaths. 

Another low groan from within his chest, rumbling out to meet your waiting ears like a song. He’s never fucked you like this- never quite as rough, never quite as vehement with his raging passion. Every thrust of his hips against yours is brimming with the purpose of finding himself as deep as he possibly could within the heavenly confines of your gushing pussy. It’s making everything ebb away to the back of your mind. Focus solely on the way he’s splitting you, occupying every corner you had to offer. 

“I’m- nnh-” It’s almost impossible to even get the words out, fucked and useless in his hold. “Nam-gyu, I’m close,”

“Fuck, yes,” Like he’s been waiting to hear that all night. And as thought it’d been rehearsed, the moment he knows you’re getting to that beautiful edge, he plants his elbows on either side of your head and buries his face into your neck. 

It’s damn near animalistic, teeth burying into the supple flesh over your throat as his cock drives against your writhing walls. Fingers gripping hard into the fabric of the couch, your own dragging harsh lines down his spine. His name leaves you in whimpers, lost in the sea of outcries. Something particularly good lights up within the depths of your pussy when he changes the angle just enough to find it, and you vice around him so tight you can feel every twitch. He stays there, too, makes sure every rock of his hips has you twisting beneath him. 

“Right there! Right there, I’m gonna- oh, god,” 

“Fuck,” Breath hot against your skin. “Please baby, come for me, come on.”

You can’t do anything else except arch underneath him, chest to chest, his cock buried so deeply you can feel him in your guts. 

In the past Nam-gyu bit back his lovely, lovely sounds. Always liked to listen to you instead, have your moans and keens bouncing around in his head all night and all day. But this time he made no effort to shush himself- hissing and cursing and telling you sweet things that you can barely hear over the onslaught of pleasure. 

The tipping point finds you before your short circuiting brain can comprehend it. Toes curling and a dying choked sob leaving your lips, you’re coming undone in his hold and seeing white sparks behind your eyes. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy crash through the very fiber of your being and his name becomes a mantra echoing off the walls. 

“Yes, there you go, there you go. You feel so fucking good-” And still Nam-gyu is driving into you relentlessly, urgent and chasing a high that not even drugs could compete with. 

Slick is smearing over your thighs and there’s a ring of your juices pillowing at the base of his swollen cock. You can’t keep up- you can’t breathe, it is so deliciously overstimulating that it makes your skin vibrate from your toes to your fingertips. Broken sentences with sobbing moans leave you and he tries to shush your tears by kissing along your jaw. Erratic with his thrusting, growing sloppier by the second. 

For the first time since you’d been shoved into the couch cushions, your hands leave the streaked skin of his back to hold his face between your palms, drag him into a kiss that has him groaning against your tongue. 

“Wanna’ feel you cum, baby.” You whimper. 

All you get is a quick nod before he suddenly locks up, hips stuttering to a sharp stop. Of all the times he’d come, gripping red into your skin with a strangled grunt, this was something else entirely. It wreaks havoc on him, all goosebumps and a desperate keen before it’s suddenly warm. You feel every last drop of him, warm and thick inside of you, the perfect piece to your puzzle. 

You're unimaginably oversensitive when he still doesn’t stop, needy to be inside of you for as long as he could. Can’t help but continue to rock his hips against you languidly even as his own seed seeps out from around his length and smears with your own dripping slick. Your cunt is just as greedy, you find, sucking him in despite the way your almost in tears. 

When Nam-gyu finally settles, and the waves of orgasm are dying into trembling aftershocks, he’s become nothing but a heaping pile of jagged breaths. His forehead drops onto your shoulder as he collects himself. It’s instinct to drag your fingers up and down his sides, marvel in the way he twitches but never pulls away. Gratifying exhaustion has rooted him, weighs him down until he’s finding himself tucked at your side. 

His eyes are dark. Skin flushed and warm beside you, a soul glowing with sex. You're entranced by the sight of him.

“You’re so handsome.” It’s the most intimate thing you’ve ever said to the man, you think. 

Then you think he feels the same, because this broad spread of red flushes over those angular cheeks of his, and the corners of his eyes crinkle with a cheesy grin. Something sweet and so soft it’s nearly unrecognizable. You’re high on it, chasing the flavor like a dream and running your finger down his chest in aimless patterns. 

Under your fingertips, you can feel his heart settling in his ribcage, that thrashing rattle died into the endless beats of comfort. Warm and cozy, inside and out. Satisfied. 

If you would have known this had been a side of him, perhaps you would have tried harder to see it all those years ago. You see it now behind your eyes, a new perspective on that horrible night. You’re watching it like a movie, a third person, seeing the highs of your own anger and the lows of his ego. A ghostly scene, like that angry part of you was still trying to reach out and shake you in it’s grasp. 

Asks you why you’re doing this, when you have come so far without him. Why you're letting him have you again despite it all.

But then he’s so warm beside you. And he’s deliriously kind and saying all the things you’d dreamed to hear. He’s breathing in tandem with you, tucked against you so firmly you aren’t sure you could ever be separated again. 

Oh, how you’d missed him.

Nam-gyu’s eyes are far away when you look up to meet his face. 

“What’s on your mind?” You ask. 

His mouth opens for a moment, but it’s hinged shut a second later. Then he tries again, tongue swiping out past his lips before he speaks. 

“I’ve thought about this every night since you left.”

A grin tugs at your lips, brought on by the new vulnerability you couldn’t even dreamed of prying out of him before. 

“Sex?” You hum. 

“Yeah.” He admits, but then he softens, that far away glint in his eyes returning once more, lost in the ceiling overhead. “But… Everything else too, you know?”

“...All the extra shit?”

“Yeah. Having you here.” He swallows. "With me."

It’s like winning the lottery. It’s like getting everything you’d ever wanted, and it’s like biting into the forbidden fruit.

“I missed you.” It’s an admission that leaves you easier than you’d expected. 

He kisses you under the blanketing magic of sex and shimmering bodies. 

The ghostly apparition of your former self stands at the doorway, betrayed. Staring with wildfire eyes wet with tears and anger. One hand on the doorknob, the other tucked around a bundle of clothes.

“It’ll be different this time.” He says suddenly. The words leave him quick, like they’ve been heavy resting on his chest. “I’m gonna’ be a good boyfriend to you. Whatever you want, I’ll get it.”

You giggle. You can’t help it, not when he’s saying all these sweet things with determination. He’s been thinking about it, forced to mull over all his terrible decisions over and over again. Waiting for the day he’d find you at his side, naked and boneless with the content afterglow of sex. 

“Don’t laugh at me.” Offended by your giggle, he nudges you. “I’m serious, damn it.”

“I know you are.” You murmur, kissing his jaw. "That's why I'm serious, too."

His fingers run through your hair. If you were a cat, you'd purr under the feeling.

It’s equally strange as it is lovely to see him like this, driven to this odd breaking point, willing to change for you. He sighs out something barely audible, something you don’t catch before he’s kissing you on the forehead chaste and sweet. It could rot teeth, makes you feel your heart sprout wings and flutter in the cage of your ribs. 

The future plans stepping stoned into your mind, all void of him, crumble into dust. Throws him into the mix, a future with a winding path to the unknown. 

You let him nestle into your side and share your warmth. 

The ghost of you throws the door open and stomps into the hall, and you wave her goodbye. 

[its-luna-noel]

puppy chronicles

03. the playful puppy | nanami x reader

The JJK men are gifted a hybrid puppy. ...wait, that kind of puppy? alpha!human!jjk men x omega!hybrid!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, hybrid!au, omegaverse, hybrid!reader, omega!reader, pet play, collars/leashes, smut, heat/rut, knots, oral (f! receiving)

word count: 4.3k next: the innocent puppy | choso x reader

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there! here's nanami's puppy chronicle, i hope you enjoy! had a lot of fun writing this one, he's got such a good dynamic.

When Kento was told he was getting a Christmas bonus this year, he was not expecting to receive an untrained hybrid puppy instead of an extra check.

You tug at the leash his boss’s secretary has you on, nearly knocking her over as you whine and whimper, tail wagging excitedly behind you while you try to catch his scent. Your sheer black slip rides up your hips, revealing matching black panties that accentuate the plush curve of your ass. The flesh around your hips and thighs jiggles gently with every animated lash of your tail.

Kento has to clear his throat and adjust the tie at his neck, suddenly feeling far too warm in his suit.

“Uh, sir–” he tries to say, because he wasn’t expecting to go home with a puppy today.

His boss cuts him off with a grin and a hearty laugh. “Just take her, Nanami! She’s from one of the best breeders in town; I’m sure she’ll make a perfect pet, once she’s trained.” He winks.

So Kento takes the leash from the secretary, pretending his hand isn’t shaking.

He takes you home, keeping you on a short leash to keep you by his side as he unlocks his front door and allows you in. He unclips the leash from your thick leather collar, and you’re darting away, ignoring the calls of your name while you giggle and explore.

He pinches the bridge of his nose while he watches you prance around his living room, exploring all of his decorations, his collection of books, his shelf of records. Your furry tail whips side to side, and your ass wiggles while it wags because you just can’t contain your excitement; you have a home! You’ve always wanted one of those, especially with a handsome, kind owner. He’s got pretty blond hair and warm hazel eyes, and he smells good, too, like a true alpha. You smell him on the air and bound over to him, rubbing up on him affectionately.

“Mr. Nanami!” you cry happily, tail still beating back and forth. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He sighs softly, and his drawn expression relaxes a little as he looks down at you, watching you rub your face against his shoulder. “Call me Kento,” he tells you, reaching up to pet your fluffy, floppy ears.

You hum happily and tap your foot animatedly, making him chuckle. Then, when he pulls away, you bound away, jumping up and down excitedly. “Do you have any toys? Or games? What about a ball; I’m really good at fetch! Or tug-of-war, I’m good at that too!”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have any toys, puppy. I wasn’t exactly expecting to bring you home today.”

Your tail drops, and a small pout forms on your lips. Then you brighten up. “That’s okay! We can go get some! Can we go shopping, Mr. Kento? For toys?”

“Just Kento,” he emphasizes gently. “Will you be a good girl if I take you out?”

You grin up at him, bounding towards the front door. “I’ll be good! Oh, please please please!”

So he lets out another soft sigh before gently patting your side, gesturing for you to move away from him. “Let’s get you changed first.”

“Oh, but why? I don’t wanna wait!”

He gives you a stern look. “Because I don’t want other alphas staring at you while we’re out. The walk here was hard enough.”

You smile up at him, tail wagging. It makes you feel good that he wants to keep you for himself, that he’s already possessive over you. It makes you feel like you’re wanted, desired. “Okay!” you chirp, turning and happily skipping towards the master bedroom.

He shakes his head after you, following you. “On the left,” he calls ahead as you sniff at different doors, trying to find the bedroom.

You walk inside, and you’re suddenly overcome by the overpowering scent of him. It’s everywhere, heady in its intensity, drowning you in musk as you, without permission, crawl up onto the bed and curl up right in the center.

Kento walks in and raises an eyebrow when he sees you. “That’s mine,” he says.

You smile, tail thumping softly against the sheets. “Smells like you,” is all you say in reply.

He lets out another sigh before coming over and sitting on the end of the bed. He reaches over a hand and lightly pets your ears, and your foot taps repeatedly against the mattress.. “Let me find you some real clothes to wear, alright?”

You nod happily, bumping your nose against his palm affectionately. He smiles a little and stands.

He searches through his dressers for something you can wear, something more appropriate than the sheer, unsupported slip you were presented to him in. He finds you one of his sweaters and a pair of joggers that might fit you.

You stay curled up on his bed, watching him move around the bedroom with ease.

He’s attractive, you notice again. Almost devastatingly so. With cheekbones so sharp you’re sure you’d cut your fingers on them and those gentle eyes, it makes you want to whine and whimper until he comes over and ravishes you in his bed. But the idea of going on a walk with him is even more tempting, so you sit perfectly still in bed while he brings you clothes, setting them on the bed beside you.

“Get dressed,” he tells you.

You grin up at him and crawl towards him, sniffing at his neck. “You’re supposed to dress me! I’m your puppy now.”

His cheeks burn pink, and you coo at the adorable sight, lapping at his neck and cheeks. He puts his hands on your shoulders to gently push you away. “Stop that. You’re perfectly capable of dressing yourself.”

You whine, high-pitched and pathetic. “But Kento,” you say, and the sound of his name on your sweet lips is enough to make him blush a deeper shade of red, “I want you to do it.”

So he, cheeks still brightly flushed, reaches down towards your thighs, grabbing the bottom of your sheer slip, and starts pulling it up your legs.

Your tail wags animatedly at the feeling of his knuckles brushing your skin.

He pulls the slip up, up, up, until your body is fully revealed to him besides the lacy panties you still wear. Your tits hang perfectly on your chest, and he fights to swallow, averting his gaze before he starts imagining what it would be like to lower his mouth to them and suck, to run his tongue over your heated skin.

He clears his throat and grabs the sweater he brought for you, practically shoving it onto your body.

You whine again at his brusque behavior, ears pinned back, though if it’s in annoyance or hurt he’s not sure. So because he can’t tell, he softens his movements a little, gently helping you to stand at the side of the bed so you can step into the legs of his joggers.

Once they’re up around your hips, he practically sighs in relief. You’re much less of a temptation now that you’re not dressed in see-through lingerie. He reaches up, fingers gently trailing the leather collar at your throat. “Want this off, too?” he asks.

Immediately, you whimper, pulling back to look at him with pleading eyes. Your tail drops between your legs, and you shake your head repeatedly, backing up against the mattress. “No, don’t take it away!”

“Shh,” he whispers, caught off guard by your vehement response. “It’s okay, I won’t take it if you don’t want me to. I was just asking.”

Slowly, you relax. Then, once he offers a soft twitch of his lips towards what you think is a smile, you sniffle and prance forward. “Walk?” you ask.

He can’t help himself; he chuckles. “Yes, let’s go before the shops close.” He leads you towards the front door, and before you walk out the door into the brisk evening air, he clips your leash at your throat.

You hum, leaning your cheek into his hand before he pulls away. Then he opens the door and leads you outside.

He huffs when you bolt out the door, tail wagging wildly once more as you tug on the leash, going up to everything and everyone you see to investigate.

More than a few people stare at the misbehaving puppy.

Kento hisses your name under his breath, giving the leash a sharp tug – not enough to hurt you, but enough to make his displeasure known. Your ears pin back slightly, and you come to a stop, turning and looking back at him with a chastised expression.

He walks over, tightening his hold on the leash. “You said you’d be good.”

You hang your head, and he can’t tell if you’re being dramatic or if you’re actually taking in his soft reprimand. “Sorry.”

He sighs and pats your head, trying to raise your spirits once more. He already doesn’t like seeing you sad. “Come on,” he encourages, giving your ears a gentle rub. “Just try to stay by me, okay? I don’t like when you pull on the leash.”

You nod, seeming to take his instructions seriously. And when you start walking again, you stay at heel, simply gazing around at the sky, the neighborhood, the walking neighbors.

Living in an affluent area, there are a few other hybrids around, some on leashes and some off. They turn to look at you curiously, their ears forward and tails swishing as they realize a new puppy has joined the neighborhood.

Some who pass close enough stop to scent you, and when you scent them back, Kento has to try to not feel jealous. It’s only natural for you to be curious.

But he’s already starting to feel possessive of the little omega he was gifted only this afternoon.

He walks you to the nearby shops, where he buys you things you need like clothes and toiletries. Then, your last stop for the night, he leads you into one of the hybrid accessory shops to buy you toys as a reward for behaving. With bags in hand, he leads you back home, giving you slack on the leash as you continue to walk beside him without complaint.

When you get home and he unclips the leash from your collar, he gently squeezes your chin between thumb and forefinger. His eyes are even softer than they were before, and you gaze up at him, thinking he might just take you and kiss you senseless.

Instead he asks, “Would you rather sleep in my room or the guest room?”

Your heart aches to be away from him. “Can I sleep in your room?”

He nods and helps you take the bags up to his room, helping you unpack all your new things. Once he’s done, he turns with a smile and tosses a tennis ball – new and bright green and fragrant – down the hall.

You bound after it, laughter pealing off the walls. He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head after you. He wasn’t excited to have an energetic pup like you when he first walked you home, but now he’s sure you both will enjoy the company.

Besides, this just gives him the chance to learn exactly what tires you out.

~

When your heat comes, you’re nearly insufferable.

Rubbing your ass up on him, stretching and arching in bed just to tempt him into taking you – even just the sweet scent of your heat nearly drives him crazy. He’s trying to be respectful, trying to treat you kindly, but you’re making him want to just pin you down and mount you, to mate you like an animal. 

He fights it for as long as he can, but he can only do so much when you’re just begging to be taken.

He comes home that day from work to find you nesting in bed, curled up in blankets and whimpering like it hurts, because it does. Every moment that the alpha – your alpha – won’t claim you is another spent in agonizing heat, and no amount of touching or fingering or cumming can fix it without his knot.

You try to tell him as such. You whimper, “Kento.”

“I know it hurts, sweet girl,” he says, voice hushed as he’s hit with the thick, cloying scent of you. “But I don’t want to take advantage of you; I don’t–”

“It’s not taking advantage of me,” you whine, ears flat against your skull as you rise up on your hands and knees and arch, wagging your ass back and forth. You can hear his sharp intake of breath as you show off your wet, darkened underwear, nearly translucent with slick and arousal. “Please!”

He grits his teeth, trying to fight it. But he can’t rip his eyes away from the sight of your barely clothed cunt, your puffy lips poking out from either side of the fabric. You’re so wet he’s pretty sure he could lean in and drink it from you, and yet he holds himself back, he hesitates, all because he doesn’t want to hurt you…

But with one last circular movement of your hips, he can’t help himself. He has to feast on you. Has to devour you.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the plush flesh there, and he yanks you backwards towards the edge of the bed. You yelp in surprise, but you just bury your face into the duvet and grind your hips back, the thin fabric of your underwear catching on the buckle of his belt.

He lets out a muffled groan, fingers squeezing your hips. “Sweet girl.” He’s already panting.

He falls to his knees at the end of the bed, spreading your thighs so he can get a better look at your dripping pussy. You angle your hips into an even deeper arch, and he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side, taking a good, long look at the meal he’s about to have.

Then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your pussy from the back, tasting you for the first time.

He groans loudly, and your hips jolt, the vibrations from his voice sending pleasure tingling through your body. “Taste so sweet, darling girl,” he mumbles into your cunt, and then he licks another long line from your clit up to your pussy, tongue swirling there before diving in, making you cry out loudly at the sensation.

All he’s doing is building the heat higher, higher, higher.

“Kento,” you whimper, legs trembling already at the stimulation. He just wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you forward until your ass is dangling over the end of the bed, giving him a prime angle to eat out your drooling cunt. “Kento!”

He doesn’t stop. He just wraps his arms tighter and commands, “Say it again.”

But you don’t, because you’ve always been a playful little girl, and you like having the power over him. And so he pulls back, panting, hot breath fanning against the back of your thighs as he tries again. “Say my name, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, wiggling your ass in his face, tantalizingly close. “Not till you fuck me.”

He growls, a low, rumbling noise deep in his chest. “You’re being a little brat, huh? I know the best way to get you to stop that, though, don’t I?”

You shake your head, not understanding. You’re not a brat, you just like to play with him. Like when he finally smiles, when he finally lets his guard down enough for you to see the real, soft him, the one who laughs while playing with you and pets your hair like a good alpha.

But he knows the truth; you are a brat, and he knows he loves it.

He tightens his grip on your hips and continues, “Yeah, I know the best way.

“I just have to tire you out.”

You yelp again when he dives back into your pussy, nose nearly breaching your entrance as he licks at your clit with feverish intensity. You try to tug away, just wanting his dick! But he doesn’t let you go; he just wraps his arms tighter around you, beefy biceps pushing against your plush thighs. He laps at your clit repeatedly, finding the exact right angle that makes you moan the loudest and stays there, bringing you crashing towards your orgasm in an embarrassing amount of time. Your cheeks are burning as he makes you cum almost immediately, your thighs tightening and pussy throbbing against the tip of his nose as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

He doesn’t even stop for a moment to let you breathe before he’s forcing you towards a second one.

“Wait!” you cry, reaching back to push at his head, trying to detach him from your cunt. “Wait, I’m sorry!”

“Mm, don’t be sorry, sweet girl. I should be sorry for not tiring you out properly, especially when you’re just in heat and don’t know any better. Can’t know any better, right? You’re just a little puppy who needs to be taken care of.” And he redoubles his efforts against your clit.

You cry out again, hips bucking under his tongue. “Please, Kento!”

“Mm,” he hums against your clit, following your every movement so that he can make you cum properly – that is, over and over and over again. “What, sweetheart?”

You whimper, “Too much.”

“Aw, honey, it’s okay.” He reaches up with one hand and takes yours, which is currently gripping the duvet with white-knuckled intensity. “Just hold onto me.”

So you move your fingers to wrap around his, and it helps keep you grounded as he entirely ruins you.

He makes you cum a second time before he even moves. He takes a moment to catch his breath, working his jaw to relax the sore muscles before bringing the hand that’s not holding yours down to rub your ass. He palms the flesh there for a moment, letting you take a breather. He doesn’t start back up until your breath has started to slow.

Then he moves his hand, and two long, thick fingers push slowly into your pussy, stretching it open for him.

You whine and moan, hips bucking against his palm, but he doesn’t change his pace as he just slowly sinks into the heat of you, your dripping arousal more than enough lubrication for him to comfortably fit his fingers inside.

Then he pulls back and starts to slowly fingerfuck you.

You moan, hips continuing to try and pull away from his touch, instinctually running away from the overstimulation. But he doesn’t let you run; he keeps you pinned there as he resumes his perfect motions, licking your clit once more as he slowly pushes his fingers inside you.

You have no idea how one person’s mouth can be this good. He’s tearing you apart and putting you back together, and all you can do is enjoy it, even as you continue to pout, because you just want him to fuck you.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers against your cunt, “I need to get you ready first.”

And that makes the heat burn even hotter, to know that he is planning on fucking you. You suppose you can wait.

And he makes you wait, until you’re a drooling, panting, crying mess against the bed.

Your legs can’t even hold you up anymore; it’s all Kento as you lean into his strong hands, letting him position you where he wants you. The lower half of his face is covered in slick, and all he does as he finally pulls away from your cunt is wipe it away with the back of his hand and lick it clean.

Oh, it’s a divine sight.

Kento rearranges your limbs on the bed, climbing up behind you until you’re propped up on your knees again, legs wobbly from how many mind-shattering orgasms he’s already given you. He pushes you down into the mattress, one hand on your hip and the other in your hair, as he rises up onto his knees behind you, pressing his clothed erection against your quivering, needy pussy. It’s practically slobbering on him, smearing slick over the front of his pants, but he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not when he’s rubbing himself on you, grinding his dick against your swollen lips.

Then he brings his hands down and slowly unbuckles his belt, unhurried. You can’t believe the amount of patience this man has.

He drops the leather to the side, and then he’s unbuttoning his pants, lowering the zipper until the only confines trapping the thick print of his cock are his dark boxer briefs. He pushes his pants down towards his knees and kicks them off, and then he repeats the process from the beginning, grinding his dick against you before finally pushing down his underwear, too.

Leaving him bare behind you.

You can feel how hot he’s running, can feel how big he is right up against your pussy. He slathers slick along the head, gathering your arousal as lubricant before he presses up against your cunt. “Are you ready?” he asks, ever the gentleman.

You just moan in response, right into the mattress. It’s all you can muster.

He smirks a little; he can’t fight it. Seeing you fucked drunk with just his mouth is a sight he’s proud of, and he takes it in as he slowly pushes inside of you, letting you feel every inch and every ridge of his veiny length.

You moan, face pressed into the duvet as you’re nearly drooling at the sensation of his thick, perfect dick stretching you open. You’re practically choking on it; you think you can feel him all the way in your chest.

Finally, he bottoms out, and he pauses, letting you both take another breather. His shoulders are rising and falling a little faster than before, and it makes you happy to know that you affect him just as much as he ruins you.

Then he starts to pull his hips back, fucking you slowly, tenderly. But that’s not how you want it.

You grind your hips back against his, and he makes a choking sound, grabbing your waist to stop your movements. “Knock it off,” he strains through gritted teeth.

You don’t. “Or what?” you tease, turning your head to look back at him.

God, you look ruined. This is the first time he can see your face clearly since he started, and you’re flushed, sweaty, eyes hazy and cock-drunk with only a couple thrusts. Your tongue lolls out at the corner to catch a drop of drool.

He grips you harder. “Sweet girl,” he says, voice tight with restraint, “I can only do so much. I can only control myself to a certain point. You can’t keep taunting me, or I’ll lose it.”

“So lose it,” you say, like it’s that simple.

He snarls and snaps his hips forward, and your back bows into a delicious arch, a loud cry falling from your lips. His blond hair is a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat as he pulls back. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

All you know is the aching stretch of his cock, and the promise of more when you take his knot.

So you knock your hips back again. Toying with him. “Please.”

And, well, who is he to deny your wishes when you ask so pretty?

He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the mattress, pining you into a mean arch as he pummels into your swollen pussy, feeling how gummy and tight your walls are as they convulse around him every time he hits your cervix. You’re hardly even moaning anymore; you’re just whining and crying out, loud ah ah ah!s echoing in his bedroom as he fucks you like you wanted.

Like the brat you are.

He grunts, the slaps of his hips meeting yours just as lewd as the sounds coming from your lips. And it just turns him on more, how fucking filthy it all is, the wet squelching of his cock ramming into your pussy, the sweat and slick and drool that’s ruining his sheets.

He can’t help but think that maybe he is nothing more than an animal.

With that thought, he leans down, brushing his lips against your neck. His canines scrape the skin right where your scent glands emit such delicious pheromones. “Sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss there to soothe the red welts his teeth leave, “be mine.”

You just moan, eyes rolling back as he continues to fuck you. He takes that as a yes.

He bites, teeth sinking into the buttery flesh there and breaking skin. He holds on while he fucks into you, and he feels the base of his cock swelling, just a couple more moments and he’ll make you his, oh fuck–!

With one more heavy shove, he forces you to take his knot, leaving you mewling in aching, agonizing pleasure. And then he cums, filling you with rope after pearly rope of his semen, plugging you full of his puppies.

His chest heaves with every breath, and you feel his muscular torso against your back as he slowly sinks down on top of you, his body caging yours in. And he presses soft kisses to the side of your neck, right over his mating mark, trying to soothe you as you come down from the overwhelming experience.

He tries to shift, but that just makes his knot tug at you enough to make you yelp and cry out. So he stays on top of you like that, kissing it all better.

“My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your neck, trailing kisses up to your ear, where he whispers, “my little puppy.”

And oh, at those words, you think you’re in love.

thanks for reading! -luna link to ao3 | next: the innocent puppy

[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

[luvnami]

"lycaon?"

"yes, master."

"come here."

the thiren strides over to you, bowing as he approaches your sofa. ever since he sustained a serious injury in the hollows, lycaon was forced to take a backseat amongst the housekeepers. his daily routine no longer involve fighting ethereals or shaking down rebel soldiers.

you offered him a position as your personal butler. as the next in line to take over the victoria housekeeper's faction, lycaon could hardly say no, although it was less of an obligation, and more of a personal wish to do so.

you beckon for the wolf to sit next to you. you often have this... strange request. you'd call lycaon over and have him lay his head in your lap. he doesn't know why - he doesn't ask why. you're his master, after all, and if this provides some sort of emotional service to you, he's more than glad to follow through.

the plush seat sinks under his weight. according to your instructions, lycaon carefully lies down. his head rests against your soft thighs, ears flicking back and forth as he awaits your touch.

your fingers thread through his soft hair. tufts of it stick through the gaps in your fingers as you brush it back, combing the fluffy strands. you gently scratch at the base of his ears. a low, throaty growl barely escapes lycaon. he swallows it back, telling himself that this isn't for his personal pleasure. it's for you. everything, for you.

his tail doesn't lie. it swishes back and forth, sweeping the sofa when you hit that spot that feels so good. his ears flatten, and his snout tilts upwards.

"you're rather enjoying this, lycaon," you muse.

he doesn't reply.

[minsyal]

She Was His

Tywin Lannister x Reader

Summary: Sad-ish.. Written fast and slowly at the same time. It’s been in my wip for… a few years now. Enjoy 💕 not mega edited, apologies for any grammatical thingies.

Word count: 2800

An overwhelming race of the steadfast beating in her chest exploded as soon as the fields were flooded with a haze of crimson. Flags waved proudly in the wretched wind of the summer day, creating a sea of blood upon the grassy plains. The first harvests of the summer crept in from the false spring of years past, providing the first taste of freshness in two years.

She could hear the heralds heralding from the gates of King’s Landing where forces encroached on the sky scraping walls. With enough focus, she could spot him riding in front. Rising gallantly from a white steed, the Lannister patriarch sat with a stiff back and cold resolve. Pleated drapery cascaded down from his broad shoulders to attach to his narrowed hips. Everything about him bled with an unwavering confidence, the same confidence that had stolen her heart from her intended many years previous.

“Princess.” The Master of Whispers was always lurking around corners and concealing himself within the shadows spoke. His hand was cold and plush against her shoulder as he delicately reached out to guide the princess away. “You should be in the Holdfast where it is safest.”

“There is no threat.” Her tone was resolute and her shoulders squared as she shook loose from his light hold. The Grand Maester was also nearby, listening as the two conversed. “Lord Tywin is here for our protection.” Her defense was as strong as the impenetrable stones holding the earth down. Beliefs cemented in centuries of faith grounded her as she, for the first time in years, felt a wave of calm wash over her body.

“A precious assumption from a naive heart.” He, Varys, paced the small space of the stone tower. “Have you considered-”

His words meant nothing to her for he spoke in an ill favor of her beloved lord. She would have none of his lies. Fleeing his presence, she joined the Grand Maester at the window’s ledge. Her fingers were warm against the cold stone that separated her from the open air. “It is anything but an assumption, my Lord.”

“Lord Tywin has not taken a stance during the Rebellion.” Varys tucked his chin to his chest as he eyed the silken fabrics that hung from his wrists. “Greeting the city with thousands of armed men often is not a welcoming sight. Should Lord Tywin decide that his faith with the crown has run thin, it will not end well for the Targaryen dynasty.”

“It will turn in our favor.” Pycelle insisted, pressing his shaking fingers to the heavy chains that hunched his back. “Lord Tywin has served the Targaryen dynasty valiantly and faithfully since the day he became Lord of Casterly Rock upon his father’s death. His heir serves in the King’s Guard and his daughter was set to wed Rhaegar.”

“The crowned-prince was slain on the Trident and Prince Rhaegar was wed to Elia Martell.” Varys reminded the room, though his words were not warm.

The mention of his name made her suddenly uncomfortable. “Rhaegar is dead, but that does not mean that Cercei’s love for him has ceased. She would have married him if not for my father’s decisions.” She pressed her hand firmly down on her stomach to quell the fluttering butterflies that bounced from its walls as she looked into the blinding glint of his crimson armor. “Let him in.”

“My princess,” Varys tone had become concerningly low, “do not allow your love for him to shroud your rational thought. There is a reason that Lord Tywin had not chosen a side in this war. At the death of your brother, he joins the battle. Does that not leave a bitter taste upon your tongue?”

“He will not allow us to crumble.” She defended, a sweat breaking out on her forehead. “He was my intended for many years. This is a way for him to finally have my father accept the betrothal. The Lannister army will assist us in quelling this rebellion once and for all.”

A hush fell over the room as the uneven footsteps of the king echoed up the stairwell. His were followed closely by another, a younger man covered in heavy armor. All eyes were focused directly on the painted wooden door that separated the overlook from the rest of the Keep.

Hobbling into the room, thin and frail, Aerys used any railing he could to maintain his balance. A wild look clouded his lilac eyes, fluctuating from pinpricks to full dilation. Nobody present was truly sure if he was aware of his surroundings. Behind him stood Jaime Lannister, a dashing young knight with hearts to spare. Though popular among the crowds of maidens, she wondered who he was truly interested in.

Pycelle and Varys plead their cases to the lone judge who seemed to go in and out of listening. His fingers shook as they gripped at the golden crown of tangled wings placed heavily atop his brittle hair. For a moment he pressed his thinning lips together and contemplated deeply in a way that she had not seen him do in decades. Deep in the cavernous depths of his mental prison, he listened to the voices that instructed him in his daily life. “Lord Tywin cannot be trusted, my king.” One voice, foreign and shrill, urged while the other, mature and shaken, suggested differently. “Lord Tywin will protect this city. He will end the rebellion.”

Aerys did not ponder on his options for an extended period of time. His decision was made in the filling of a lung as he muttered the few words aside from garbled madness he had in the past few months.

“Let him in.”

Those words seemed to mean nothing to Aerys as his eyes glazed back over from his position in the room. He did not look to his daughter nor his council who all dispersed throughout the throne room. Pycelle began his short jaunt to the front gates where he instructed a footsoldier to deliver word from the King that the gates should be opened to Lord Tywin.

“Come, princess.” Varys began to pull the princess’s arm, but found a stone wall beneath his fingertips. “We must get you somewhere safe.”

She was unmoving and uncaring of what the Master of Whispers had to say. Any words that came from his mouth were null in her mind.

“Princess, you must go now.” Varys pulled forcefully at the princess’s arm, so much so that the sleeve of her gown tore in his fingertips. Any other instance as such would leave a man without his head but an urgentness in his chest compelled him to act with ferocity. “Lord Tywin and his men are not here to ensure your safety.”

She couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe it.

All the years Tywin spent as Hand of the King he had vied for her hand. He had, on multiple occasions, taken her to spend the summer months in Casterly Rock where she could live freely and happily. He had planted seeds of safety in her core that had only cemented her trust in him, and hindered Varys’s attempts to guide the girl away.

None of it mattered, though. Tywin would get what he wanted in the end even if his desires had to adjust to the circumstances.

~~*~~

“What of the girl?” The path to King’s Landing had been an easy one, one that Lord Tywin had made many in the past.

Red velvet cloth draped thickly over the encampment that laid near the forking of Blackwater Rush. The room was occupied by a select few. The men within were to carry out the most heinous of crimes. Though reports conflict, it is generally accepted that the sinister deeds were ordered by the Lannister lord. In the distance laid their destiny, one that would alter timelines that had been set in stone for centuries.

Lord Tywin adjusted his jaw from where it had been clenched harshly to the right of center, keeping his lips pressed into a thin scornful line. “Leave her to me.”

~~*~~

Her feet could not carry her fast enough away from Varys. Echos of his pitchy voice rang through the walls and into her eardrums, beating away like sticks upon clashing cymbals. Heavy material glided across the floor, sweeping every bit of dirt and debris into its train as she ran desperately for the throne room. At the very least, she knew that Ser Jaime and her father would be there, waiting for their fates.

It was an odd moment of willful ignorance on the princess’s part. Deep in her heart she knew that she was running to her death. She was painfully aware of the chaos that ensued in and outside of the walls that had protected her for her entire life. The screaming in the streets were not joyous. No bells rang for celebration. Scarlet embers flecked with honeyed gold were not that of the evening sunset.

The screams were pained, filled and overflowing with an extinguishment of life. Sounds of bells were morphed from crumbling walls and pounding doors as foot soldiers stormed through the cobblestone streets. The evening sunset was not due for hours. Fires were set across the city, illuminating the rising smoke and ash that clouded the sky in a display of power.

She should have left.

Within the throne room, she was met with a sight that brought bile rising to the top of her throat. Churning upset her stomach and she heaved on a dry tongue. Though his skin had paled throughout the years, he looked particularly gaunt lying on the floor with ichor trickling from his neck. His fingers were curled into fists that bruised purple down to his wrists. Thin and stringy hair that once glittered in the vibrancy of the midday sun was now filled and bland, painted a shade of garnet similar to that of Lord Tywin’s armor.

If it weren’t for the circumstance, she could have said that Jaime looked particularly regal upon the Iron Throne. Downcast eyes focused on the glint of steel in his lap, concentrated rivet directed at the dense pressure that moved his shoulders downward.

“Ser Jaime?”

She could see the turmoil in his eyes as he looked up from his seat. The princess should have fled for Dragonstone, Jaime thought as she took heavy steps in his direction. He refused to listen to the nagging voice in his head telling him to do what was honorable. Her fate was already sealed.

“Ser Jaime?” She repeated, steps growing faster in speed and more uneven as she clutched at her chest and neared her father’s corpse.

“Ser Jaime? Please!” Anguished sorrow bled from her lips as she placed a hand gently over her father’s heart. It had not beat a single time in nearly ten minutes.

Footsteps fell in large groups from the Throne Room’s main entrance. The doors were left open from when she had come through them, allowing Tywin and his small garrison east entry.

Tywin Lannister stood there before her, his crimson armor dulled from bloodshed. Whose blood stained his chest, she did not know, but given his stature and ease of movement one could presume that he was relatively unharmed. A simple halting of his hand had the remaining infantrymen stalled in the doorway, the majority turning their backs to the room as they surveyed the hall outside. Tywin began his approach.

Faint screams bounced off the walls and into the rafters of the room, rising upward like plumes of heavy black smoke until they disappeared into the air. The princess was beside herself, her hands now red with her father’s ichor matching the front of her dress where he had bled as she groomed his hair out of his face. For all that he had put her through, he was still her father.

Tywin was upon her now, his face hardened as he watched her shoulders relaxing as the weight of her situation fully dawned on her. She turned to him then, eyes filled with tears that streamed down the contours of her face.

He had always thought of her to be particularly beautiful. In the warm summer months, he had spent many hours courting her in the privacy of his own home. There was a hope in him back then that they could wed and from their union would come heirs that he could marry off to solidify his power. Whether there was true love for her in there was questionable.

There was nothing about the princess he disliked. She was agreeable, fairly intelligent, and held onto his word like it had been written by the gods. Although, she did not worship him. A clear admiration for the man was displayed on her features, especially so when he was leading council meetings or sitting the throne in the place of her father. She had told him on many occasions that she wished to be able to hold the room the same way he did. In fact, there were many things he found he did like. Her company was comfortable, always melding into his presence as if she had always been there. No one would argue her beauty either. Similar in looks to that of her mother, the princess was soft and ethereal in appearance. She dressed in beautiful gowns and always smelled slightly of rose and mint. Even now in the chaos of the sacking, she held that same look.

“What does this mean for me?” The words fell like a feather from her lips, floating softly downward to the floor where her gaze was focused.

When no answer came from Tywin she turned and looked upward at him. “My lord?”

There were truthfully only two possibilities for her future and Tywin knew that.

He extended a hand down to her and stiffened when she accepted it and rose to meet his gaze. Trembling fingers wrapped around his. The entirety of her body was shaking. He took the opportunity to pull her into his chest despite the hardness of his armor. A gentle hand smoothed down the back of her hair and rested on the nape of her neck.

“What will come of me now?” She repeated, enjoying the way he embraced her. Calming to his touch, she deepened her hold on him.

“The war is over, princess.” Tywin hushed her tearful sobs, pressing a light kiss to the side of her head as her crying intensified. “The house of the dragon has fallen.”

The princess only looked into his emerald eyes when his gloved finger guided her vision upward. He knew he should not have allowed himself to indulge in the moment. Robert Baratheon would not let a Targaryen, especially the sister of Rhaegar, live peacefully. He personally saw to the death of the prince and Tywin did not intend to let him see to the princess’s end.

Knowing that no guard dared to turn their heads in their direction, Tywin drew the princess near and placed a light kiss to her lips. Their personalities in that moment were completely opposite. She was ravenous, starved of his touch and seeking validation in his arms. Her hands found the dimples of his waist, barely detectable through the armor, and rested there. If it were not for the metal, she would have dug crescents into his skin.

On the other hand, he was calm. A storm brewed in the pit of his stomach, but he did not show it.

She let out a soft breath when the cold metal sunk itself into her chest. Tywin held her still, not allowing her legs to give out. One hand held the blade firmly by his side, soaked in her blood. The other was cradling her body, holding her to his chest. An uncomfortable warmth oozed from the bodice of her dress. It added depth to the blood that already stained his breastplate.

Her lips parted to speak but nothing could come from her lungs for no air remained. Pleading questioning eyes met ones that would display sorrow and remorse if they could. It would be a cold day in hell before Tywin would admit what he had done was wrong. Every fiber of his being scolded him, but his own selfishness was not enough to start a war with a man who had just won his own.

Tywin knew that the only end for her that he would accept was the embrace of death. If not for his blade, Robert Baratheon would either have the princess killed or marry her to claim the throne. Selfishly, Tywin could not bear to see her wed to another.

She was his.

Her love, her body, her heart, and her death was his.

That was how it was supposed to be.

[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 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