cookiieduh

[cookiieduh]

here’s a link to my masterlist including my fics and artwork. i know this isn’t my usual post, and i don’t want to make this long and sappy, so i’ll be blunt: i’m leaving.

i’m so incredibly grateful for all the people who have stuck around for my little tumblr journey, especially the people that have been here from the start. i want to thank my friends and mutuals for encouraging me to keep creating—you’ve helped me through things you’d could never imagine. seriously.

some people might call it a cop out, maybe even lazy, but my mental health has been eating shit these last few months and some days i find it a struggle to wake up. i try to keep this page positive, relaxed, and lighthearted, but past the screen i’m falling apart. i’m not writing this in hopes of pity farming, it’s simply an explanation.

i want to cut ties with this account and all others affiliated with it [@cookiiehuh @cupidsval ] simply because the thought of posting gives me this sticky feeling of dread. there’s an idea of ‘valerie’ that i feel shackled to. valerie feels more like a burden than my name. whatever expression that drove me to write has shrivelled up and died and i feel no desire to create anymore.

maybe this was sappy, and maybe you cringed a little. i did when writing this. but thank you for sparing the time to read, and thank you for your kind words. thank you for the love and appreciation you’ve showed me and the shit that occasionally falls out of my brain.

i won’t delete my account, but i will no longer be accessing them from the moment i post this. when things get better, maybe i’ll continue to write under a different alias. thanks for all the support throughout my time here <3

[cookiieduh]

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ༉‧₊˚.

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

۶ৎ doing his makeup discord daddy munch bf headcanons

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

۶ৎ bf headcanons first time emo bassist

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

۶ৎ jealousy hot ‘n cold

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂

۶ৎ shoko comforts you after a breakup roommate kuna shenanigans just like candy [multi]

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 ༉‧₊˚.

۶ৎ jealous suguru beach day toru tongue ring choso

[cookiieduh]

i’m leaving this here 🥹🫰

tongue ring 2025

[cookiieduh]

tongue ring 2025

[cookiieduh]

i loved this guys ❤️‍🩹🥹🫰

pov: valerie doing anything EXCEPT finishing any of her thousands of wips

[cookiieduh]

new account guys @cupidsval

it was a mistake to date CHOSO KAMO, let alone break his heart with a grudged split bundled in the sugarcoating saccharinity of being ‘just friends' instead. he's the bassist of a not-so-niche midwest emo band. you should have known better.

and since said mistake, the sound of your voice cropped from a message left after the tone overlaid with edgy acoustic, endowed with a title something along the lines of ‘Pissing In My Neighbour’s pool’ now periodically haunts your social’s feed in intervals of every. five. scrolls.

even before that, the man had the gall to send it to you mid-production. crappy. unprovoked. and maybe you’d gone a little overboard with the weirdly specific insults that sounded almost too crafted to not have been premeditated - but how were you supposed to know the entire interaction was a setup to secretly record more material for that borderline slanderous song?

so now, a tally more mistakes later, two minutes worth of your verbal-evisceration-voicemail layered over unfairly cathartic guitar and the shitty singing of the frontman you’re pretty sure goes by the name ‘six eyes’ is going triple platinum in every angsty juvenile’s bedroom.

you really wanted to hate it, too. it’s pretty unfortunate to come to the conclusion that a song dressed like a smear campaign driven by cigarettes and the budget of a shoelace isn’t that bad.

hell, you even nodded to yourself when you played it fully for the first time. acting all introspective like you could nearly see the appeal of staring up at a ceiling for hours with cheap liquor in hand, unearthing emotional dumpster fires to the vocal fry and cracks of a man with many unresolved issues.

and considering how popular it’s gotten, maybe you should risk being the refrain of the interpolation to ask for a share of the revenue.

[cookiieduh]

new acctttttt !! 2>

thinking about choso with virgin!reader ᡣ𐭩

HE’D BE SO SOFT, GENTLY cajoling you to comfort. the kind of saccharine that acts more like foreplay than a balm to your ignited nerves…

“oh. baby.” his groan melts into a rumble, water pilled across the expanse of his skin from the lingering drops of his shower. “you’re so gorgeous.” it comes out as a reverent whisper when his hands smooth over the plump of your thighs, unhurried to reach your need, clad in a cotton scrap of fabric.

“cho.” the hush snares in your throat when his chestnut hues flit to catch your gaze. it’s not the eye-contact alone that makes your heart stutter. no, it’s the way the already dim light is practically drowned in the dilated blacks when he’s looking up at you with such blatant hunger.

it starts with kitten licks over your long-damp panties, the flat of his tongue dragging across the seam of your slit, working you up to shivers that make your legs strain to close beneath his hold. you gasp at the brush against your clit, head tilting back in a feeling so alien yet addictive.

he slips the material down your legs soon after. your back lurches off the pillows once he eases a finger inside, whine cracking in your throat at the breach. with shoulders still braced against your legs, he watches the way your pussy squeezes around the intrusion, mirth in his eyes, smirk curling his mouth when he pushes in a second.

“making the prettiest noises for me.” he murmurs in something like worship, as if the dirty talk’s a prayer. with his free hand cradling the buck of your hips, choso leans down to lave at the peak of nerves at the apex of your puffy folds, tongue tracing what your reeling mind just about registers as his name. 

digits pumping in and out, he isn’t satisfied until you’ve come at least twice before he finally positions himself over you.

“tell me it hurts and i’ll stop straight away, okay?” he knows it'll be a stretch, but it doesn’t come out smug - it comes out ragged, like he means the words with every fibre of his being. so you nod, the plush of your lower lip caught between your teeth as the head of his length sinks past the snug ring of your entrance.

his fingers couldn’t have prepared you for the thickness, no way in hell. he plunges into you, heavy inch by heavy inch, slow enough for you to accommodate the pressured weight, soon enough that your toes curl and your eyes wrench shut. 

“f-fuck-” your voice splits a pitch higher once he’s fully sheathed inside your vice-tight heat. you hear him moan, low in his throat like you’re killing him. your hands are balled into fists, to which his own slide up your palm to lace his fingers with yours.

“breathe, angel. breathe.” he pants mostly for you, half a reminder to himself, forehead dropping to your collar because you squeeze around him tighter. “tell me when you’re ready.” puffing moments later. winded, breathless. 

seconds pass, you nod the permission. and he pulls back a fraction, shallow thrusts followed by deeper strokes when your legs instinctively lock around his waist, coaxing him in deeper. harder.

he swallows your mewls with a press of his plush lips against your own, hips clashing against yours in a hypnotic rhythm that makes you dizzy. your nails scrape reddened crescents into his flexing shoulder blades, eyes rolling back behind fluttering lashes when the tip of his cock digs into that spongy patch that has you seeing white.

“m’coming again- ah, c-choso—!” you writhe beneath him, mouth dropping open in a choked moan, the heel of your palms slamming forcefully against his back to crowd yourself under his weight.

back arching wildly, stuttering chest flushing against his, you crest with a loud, wanton cry. your calves cramp when you tug him into you roughly, an almost bawdy strength possessing you to try and smother yourself beneath your boyfriend from the ferocity of your summit.

twitching, he follows soon after, spilling into you with a shuddering sigh of “i love you”  while your pussy unforgivingly cinches around his cock. 

“baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself-” he wheezes in the aftermath when you pull him against you harsher, smaller arms feeble but determined to keep him pressed into you. heartbeat hammering against his, your body lightly jerks as his length slowly softens inside you.

you both heave in the heft of the silence for a while, your spent arms eventually loosening around him just enough for him to gently push off and lay you beside him, cock still buried deep inside, keeping you plugged up. 

“thank you.” you mumble, voice suddenly hoarse with sleepy fatigue now that the weight of your multiple orgasms has buried itself deep, leaving you boneless atop the mess of sheets he’s just fucked you into. choso snorts in response.

“thank you?” he murmurs in repeat, smile thick in his voice as his large hand comes up to sweetly push sweat-slicked strands of hair from your forehead. the haul of the deepened intimacy softens his simper. until you lazily slur the rest.

“for making me come so hard.”

[cookiieduh]

new account @cupidsval

doing boyfie!toru’s makeup ᡣ𐭩

“AM I PRETTY YET?” SATORU’S cheesy grin falters into something stiff under your warning glare.

“don’t smile. you’ll crease the concealer.” you bark the command like a sergeant impelling drills to an incompetent platoon. your boyfriend stifles a smirk beneath the beauty blender, watching up at you through half-lined lids.

“am i allowed to breathe, ma’am?” he asks with mock-seriousness, expression wooden save for the mirth dancing in his gaze.

the answer is simple, of course: “no.”

he snuffs a snort through an exhale of his nose, biting his lip to uselessly muffle his amusement. your eyes narrow to slits, the hand on his hairline craning him back in half a punishment, half a reach for a better angle. pearly lashes bat, you mutter something barely vexed.

for a man so strong, you barely expected him to twitch under the glide of your brush. but he does, all ticklish under your touch as your hand moves to cup his jaw next.

“hmm...” you hum, gently tilting him side to side in inspection. it’s finishing touches now, the last few details of a makeup look satoru agreed to act as a makeshift mannequin for. dramatic falsies flutter open at your quiet, baby blues casting a glance to a mirror poised nearby.

glossed lips part and brows peak in surprise. about to chastise, you’re cut off with a gasp.

“i’m beautiful.”

[cookiieduh]

new acc @cupidsval

“KUNAAA.” YOU WHINE LOWLY INTO your phone's speaker, kicking your feet up the bed, pitchy voice teetering into something dangerously annoying. “want. it. now.”

your roommate sighs deep into his own, dragging a hand over his pinched expression. “so fuckin’ needy. never know when to quit.” his sneer is palpable from your end of the line.

it makes you pause. for less than a second, you consider the very real possibility of him cutting the call completely, leaving you aching and empty in the sheets. well, possibilities be damned. you try again.

“but i’ve been waiting all day.” you puff, rolling prone atop the silk bedding, hoping the poutiness of your plea earns begrudging sympathy rather than an admonishment deserved.

you hear shuffling on his end, catching a muttered “i’ve been waiting all day” in a cadence so shrill it barely counts as an imitation.

“actin’ like i care.” a grumble, then a huff. “can’t fucking teleport, brat.” it’s a little more muted, a stroke less hostile. a grin almost splits your lips. almost, since you take his indignation as a chance to fuss a little more.

“so you’re saying you don’t care about me.” you sniffle for excess effect. it’s fun to dance on his nerves.

this is it. this is the breaking point. you glean a groan that roughens into a growl before the call abruptly ends. beep beep beep. you toss your phone, eyes rolling, stomach growling, because you know it’ll be ages till he comes back with the takeout you ordered.

[cookiieduh]

pov: valerie doing anything EXCEPT finishing any of her thousands of wips

[cookiieduh]

how i picture geto in my most recent oneshot 𝜗𝜚

i don’t usually ever post my fanart, but lowk just wanted to give a visual (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)

[cookiieduh]

𝚰𝐍𝐅𝐎 .ᐟ suguru x f!reader, jealousy, geto has piercings, jealousy, unestablished relationship, alcohol, smoking, etc, suggestive, lmk if i missed anything 𝜗𝜚

𝐀/𝐍 .ᐟ wc,, 1.1k,, a little something for my lovelies 𝜗𝜚

THE BLUR BETWEEN FRIENDS AND something more was one of those labels you didn’t bother with when it came to suguru. you weren’t kissing, definitely weren’t fucking, but since… always, there’s been this charge between you both, crackling like a live wire ready to hork sparks at any second.

suguru didn’t want to be here, in this mystified relationship limbo you’d ensnared him in, and definitely not this club, surrounded by sweat and cheap, cloying cologne. too much tasteless alcohol, and by some cosmic cruelty, none of that liquid buzz he was betting on being his saving grace. 

yet he still showed, sitting atop a plush, padded barstool beside shoko while you and satoru stormed the dance floor. why? if you asked, he’d tell you it’s because he couldn’t leave you three without a fourth. if it was someone else, he’d simply nod towards you, dolled up and dancing, letting them see why for themselves.

shoko’s shamelessly flirting for drinks while suguru sourly nurses whatever insipid whiskey the bartender had recommended. purple hues keep drifting to you when they really shouldn’t be. ah, who cares. it doesn’t seem like you’re even close to noticing when you’re batting lashes at…what, a btec version of him?

slim eyes narrow further when they really hone in on the guy; black hair that’s a little more cropped than his own, same style - he wants to think it looks tackier on the wannabe - and probably a few inches shorter judging from the way you barely have to crane your neck. but it’s enough to make him feel weirdly territorial. 

only when your sight finally catches his, does suguru finally realise he’s been advancing you and that crummy imitation on instinctual autopilot. his stride stutters and he spins back in a terse u-turn, simultaneously cringing at himself and playing off the scorch of your stare crawling into the skin of his back. 

instead of heading back to the bar, the respite of shitty drinks and rolling his eyes at the way satoru’s practically gathered a harem, he pushes past the swarm of bodies swaying to something doja cat, making a beeline for the exit.

taking a sickly long drag from a cigarette he fumbled to ignite, he didn’t bother turning to the brief blurt of bass lurching into the night when the door swung open from, who he guessed was, another stranger seeking the same recess from the club’s clammy taste.

puffing out the smoke in a swirl of plume that frayed in the dark, he almost choked when it was you that called out to him instead of a nobody asking him for a light.

“suguru..?” your airy cadence wrapped around his name like it was another one of those spells he was sure you were casting on him. yeah, he was more consoled to think that his feelings were the fruit of black magic and not a genuine, crippling, yearn for a longtime friend.

seconds slink by and he’s stone.

“what happened?” you press, soft in the way that makes him want to tilt his head back against the brick and laugh in exasperation.

you’d think he’d frozen over if it weren’t for that small nip of his bottom lip. and he’s sighing deep through his nose, butt of the tobacco poised between his thumb and pointer when he takes another fierce pull, then flicks it to the ground to snuff out the tired glimmer of orange with the heel of his shoe.

“nothing. nothing happened.” he turns, lips twisted in a wry smile that looks more like a grimace than anything. he tucks his arms over his chest, biting his inner cheek now that he’s taking you in; the glimmer of your makeup under the ambient hum of the street lamp, the way your pretty lashes flutter when you look up at him like that. this was unfair.

“sure.” the crease between your brows betrays that feigned stoicism you try to wear like an ill-fitted hand me down. “explain what ‘nothing’ means when you literally just stormed towards me like you were leading a horde with pitchforks.” you quip with an inkling of temper, shuffling closer to him under the sudden breath of the wind.

he notices it, the way you curl into yourself in defiance of the abrupt breeze, arms prickling in the chill. so he slips off his jacket like it's second nature, handing you the leather stained with smoke and sandalwood while he looms in his half-buttoned henley. you take it.

“didn’t like him.” he shrugs like it has to be that simple, and you want to believe it is when you push your arms through the sleeves, engulfed in the scent of everything that hisses his name. “the guy you were talking to. looked like he was trying too hard.” there’s a sprinkle of bitterness that belies the indifference he wants to play.

“that’s it?” the disappointment leaves your lips before you can mask it. you stiffen, he tilts his head, expression wooden save for those violet depths that peel back everything you’re trying to hide.

“you don’t want it to be?” he pushes off the wall, voice hushed to a purr under the weight of implication. the faint thump of an atmospheric rhythm bleeds through the bar’s stone now that he’s cornered you against it.

and it feels like the air’s been punched from your lungs when your eyes drag across the bob of his throat beneath that beaded choker, to the plush cushion of those pierced lips that stay only inches from your own as he braces his forearm beside your head. caged.

“i…” the words catch in your throat as your head tips back to snare his gaze with your own. all he can focus on is the way you chew your lower lip, those big rounded eyes and the way they look up at him like he’s something holy. 

he leans in until you’re sharing breath. indulgent, ready. 

“i don’t think you know what you’re doing to me. what you always have.” he murmurs, eyes low-lidded, pupils blown so wide it’s as if any trace of light would be swallowed in their abyss. the silver edge of his labret barely grazes your skin before he pulls away.

[cookiieduh]

𝚰𝐍𝐅𝐎 .ᐟ suguru x f!reader, jealousy, geto has piercings, jealousy, unestablished relationship, alcohol, smoking, etc, suggestive, lmk if i missed anything 𝜗𝜚

𝐀/𝐍 .ᐟ wc,, 1.1k,, a little something for my lovelies 𝜗𝜚

THE BLUR BETWEEN FRIENDS AND something more was one of those labels you didn’t bother with when it came to suguru. you weren’t kissing, definitely weren’t fucking, but since… always, there’s been this charge between you both, crackling like a live wire ready to hork sparks at any second.

suguru didn’t want to be here, in this mystified relationship limbo you’d ensnared him in, and definitely not this club, surrounded by sweat and cheap, cloying cologne. too much tasteless alcohol, and by some cosmic cruelty, none of that liquid buzz he was betting on being his saving grace. 

yet he still showed, sitting atop a plush, padded barstool beside shoko while you and satoru stormed the dance floor. why? if you asked, he’d tell you it’s because he couldn’t leave you three without a fourth. if it was someone else, he’d simply nod towards you, dolled up and dancing, letting them see why for themselves.

shoko’s shamelessly flirting for drinks while suguru sourly nurses whatever insipid whiskey the bartender had recommended. purple hues keep drifting to you when they really shouldn’t be. ah, who cares. it doesn’t seem like you’re even close to noticing when you’re batting lashes at…what, a btec version of him?

slim eyes narrow further when they really hone in on the guy; black hair that’s a little more cropped than his own, same style - he wants to think it looks tackier on the wannabe - and probably a few inches shorter judging from the way you barely have to crane your neck. but it’s enough to make him feel weirdly territorial. 

only when your sight finally catches his, does suguru finally realise he’s been advancing you and that crummy imitation on instinctual autopilot. his stride stutters and he spins back in a terse u-turn, simultaneously cringing at himself and playing off the scorch of your stare crawling into the skin of his back. 

instead of heading back to the bar, the respite of shitty drinks and rolling his eyes at the way satoru’s practically gathered a harem, he pushes past the swarm of bodies swaying to something doja cat, making a beeline for the exit.

taking a sickly long drag from a cigarette he fumbled to ignite, he didn’t bother turning to the brief blurt of bass lurching into the night when the door swung open from, who he guessed was, another stranger seeking the same recess from the club’s clammy taste.

puffing out the smoke in a swirl of plume that frayed in the dark, he almost choked when it was you that called out to him instead of a nobody asking him for a light.

“suguru..?” your airy cadence wrapped around his name like it was another one of those spells he was sure you were casting on him. yeah, he was more consoled to think that his feelings were the fruit of black magic and not a genuine, crippling, yearn for a longtime friend.

seconds slink by and he’s stone.

“what happened?” you press, soft in the way that makes him want to tilt his head back against the brick and laugh in exasperation.

you’d think he’d frozen over if it weren’t for that small nip of his bottom lip. and he’s sighing deep through his nose, butt of the tobacco poised between his thumb and pointer when he takes another fierce pull, then flicks it to the ground to snuff out the tired glimmer of orange with the heel of his shoe.

“nothing. nothing happened.” he turns, lips twisted in a wry smile that looks more like a grimace than anything. he tucks his arms over his chest, biting his inner cheek now that he’s taking you in; the glimmer of your makeup under the ambient hum of the street lamp, the way your pretty lashes flutter when you look up at him like that. this was unfair.

“sure.” the crease between your brows betrays that feigned stoicism you try to wear like an ill-fitted hand me down. “explain what ‘nothing’ means when you literally just stormed towards me like you were leading a horde with pitchforks.” you quip with an inkling of temper, shuffling closer to him under the sudden breath of the wind.

he notices it, the way you curl into yourself in defiance of the abrupt breeze, arms prickling in the chill. so he slips off his jacket like it's second nature, handing you the leather stained with smoke and sandalwood while he looms in his half-buttoned henley. you take it.

“didn’t like him.” he shrugs like it has to be that simple, and you want to believe it is when you push your arms through the sleeves, engulfed in the scent of everything that hisses his name. “the guy you were talking to. looked like he was trying too hard.” there’s a sprinkle of bitterness that belies the indifference he wants to play.

“that’s it?” the disappointment leaves your lips before you can mask it. you stiffen, he tilts his head, expression wooden save for those violet depths that peel back everything you’re trying to hide.

“you don’t want it to be?” he pushes off the wall, voice hushed to a purr under the weight of implication. the faint thump of an atmospheric rhythm bleeds through the bar’s stone now that he’s cornered you against it.

and it feels like the air’s been punched from your lungs when your eyes drag across the bob of his throat beneath that beaded choker, to the plush cushion of those pierced lips that stay only inches from your own as he braces his forearm beside your head. caged.

“i…” the words catch in your throat as your head tips back to snare his gaze with your own. all he can focus on is the way you chew your lower lip, those big rounded eyes and the way they look up at him like he’s something holy. 

he leans in until you’re sharing breath. indulgent, ready. 

“i don’t think you know what you’re doing to me. what you always have.” he murmurs, eyes low-lidded, pupils blown so wide it’s as if any trace of light would be swallowed in their abyss. the silver edge of his labret barely grazes your skin before he pulls away.

[cookiieduh]

.જ⁀➴ ♡ ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ᴄᴏᴀᴛᴇᴅ.ᐟ⭑.ᐟ

ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ! ᴀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ? ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴡᴇʟʟ… ᴅᴜʜ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴀ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅᴏ ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ɢʀᴀꜱꜱ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴ!

.pairing.ᐟ ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ .cont.ᐟ MDNI, ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ x ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ‘ᴍᴇᴏᴡꜱ’), ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴄᴀᴛ ᴇᴀʀꜱ, ᴇɢɪʀʟ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ, ᴇᴛᴄ… ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅᴜᴍʙɪꜰɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜʏᴘᴇʀ-ꜰᴇᴍɪɴɪɴᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴘᴏʀɴ ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ’, ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ’ ᴇᴛᴄ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ, ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍ, ꜰʀᴇᴀᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴡᴋ .extra.ᐟ ᴡᴄ,, 2.8ᴋ,, ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

“oh, kitten,” gojo attempts to cajole with a desperation that borders pathetic, batting long white lashes at the webcam as you sit in pretty pixels across his screen.

“puh-leaseeee!”

and he’s been at this for half an hour, begging you to let him fly you out to japan.

“it’s beautiful this time of year, ‘nd i bet you’d look great in a kimono!” he just keeps going on and on, relentlessly begging and deliriously chatting your ear off with crazed ramblings of how he’s going to treat you like the goddess you are the moment you step off that plane.

it’s not like you think he’s making empty promises. you don’t doubt that he has money, not for a second. after all, you’ve managed to wind him so tightly around your finger that he pretty much funds everything for you. college tuition, spa days, shopping trips, and nitro.

especially nitro.

and up until this point, all you’ve had to do was sweet talk him, send a couple suggestive pics, and much to your shame, meow for him. but who cares? it’s a moment of embarrassment for a much lengthier time of luxury.

well, it’s too bad it’s finally catching up to you. now this clingy, needy, discord mod is begging you to come see him.

“but, toruuu.” you’re inwardly cringing at how sugared your voice is, even more so at the demure pout you’re impelling as you look straight into the camera. “it’s sooo far.” and while the sound of your forced, cloyingly sweet voice makes you want to barf, he’s eating it up like the sound alone is candied ambrosia.

“c’mon, kitty.” he’s persistent. you’ve got to give him that.

“it’ll be all expenses paid! i just want to see youuuuu!” and it’s almost jarring to see an attractive, wealthy man, only a handful of years older than you, begging this childishly for a girl he’s only ever seen on his screen to travel overseas and meet him. 

hesitating, weighing out the options in your head before finally conceding with a reluctant sigh of: “send me six hundred to get my hair and nails done.”

you knew you were fucked when you got a notification from cashapp saying six thousand instead.

-

and truly fucked you were, because who would’ve thought that the guy quite literally paying you to meow for him would be a freak?

…

you.

you did.

and maybe you should have trusted your gut instinct because now you’re halfway across the world, bent over your discord daddy’s lap, pretty pink miniskirt hiked up and flipped over to give his palm better access to land mean smack!’s against your steadily flushing rear. 

“ugh, kitty, you are just too cute when you cry like that.” you’re mistaken to think that he would maybe give you even just a second of reprieve from the relentless assault of his hand, but no, he slaps an even harder swat over your poor, pillowy ass.

this has to be what, the tenth—? twelfth—smack? honestly, you’ve lost count. overwhelming humiliation from the sadistic spanking aside, you don’t even want to think about the matching paw print thigh-highs and cat ears he insisted you wear while he gives you this ‘special’ treatment.

“b-but, it h-hurrrrrts—!” you’re whining in earnest now, fingers curling into the fabric of the surprisingly silken sheets as he giggles. giggles. a small, awfully boyish laugh that should have nothing, yet has everything to do with your predicament.

but really, the pain is the last thing on your mind when you’re feeling a heat twist in your gut that has nothing to do with the burn of the slaps that crack against your reddening cheeks. the kind of fervour you’re praying he doesn’t notice slickening your panties, because god knows he’d be remorseless.

“aww, it h-hurts?” he mimics the stutter you didn’t even realise you had with a snicker, rubbing salt into your wounded ego and fractured dignity while you discreetly squeeze your thighs together. “come on, cupcake, you can count five more, rightttt?” firm hands press into your cheeks before spreading them apart, letting the seam of your panties dig further against your core.

“five!?” you all but squawk, squirming atop his lap as he continues kneading your ass like he’s a cat with a bakery to run. he’s infatuated with it, with the way you react when he squeezes and slaps, the way you try and fail to mask the gasps and whimpers as he plays with you.

“mhm, fiiiive moreee.” satoru drags out the words. mocking. teasing. aggravating.

he continues spreading and groping like a man possessed, leaving you simmering in anticipation for torment promised to come. it actually makes you flinch when he abruptly stops, letting the pads of his fingers keep you pinned. you run cold when you hear the sudden, sharp crash of his laughter.

“oh, no.” he breathily chuckles before smearing you so far apart you feel the cool air of the room blow over your clothed pussy. 

“is my little kitty getting wet from being slapped?” and you hate the stupid smirk in his stupid voice. hate the way your stupid back arches out of stupid impulse. 

“s’toru-” you’re practically mewling, head dropping forward into the crook of your elbow as he shamelessly toys with you, dragging a finger up the puffy, sodden slit your panties cling to, probably sporting the biggest grin you can barely begin to imagine.

“didn’t know you were slutty for a little pain.” gojo’s voice drops to a coy murmur, feigning surprise at the more than expected reaction. 

“m’not.” you whine the blatant denial against your forearm as he hooks a finger beneath the cotton of your thong and tugs the flimsy fabric aside, popping a long finger in your cunt so suddenly it makes you choke on a gasp. he groans as if it’s in his ass, biting his lip when he feels you squeeze around him.

“uh-huh, sureee.” he begins to move, pumping in and out with an increasing vigor while you squirm and arch. the type of finger-fucking that’s so mind-melting you barely notice when he slips a second. then a third. stretching you out beyond belief to the point where you aren’t sure your lungs can catch up.

he bumps you up on his knee as his digits mash your insides, slipping his free hand under your front in the fraction of a second to catch your clit with his thumb, jolting incessantly frenzied rings around the puckered nub, making you tremble.

“j-just like—FUUUCK—!” you’re crying out, jerking up in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers. he snickers again. it barely registers. not when he’s found that rigid patch of nerves in your gummy walls, making you muffle a scream into your arm. 

“be a good girl ’n say ‘thank you, daddy!’”

if you weren’t so flustered, you’d probably scoff at the command, brush it off and refuse to call him that. but when his digits are jostling in and out while he’s teasing something along the lines of “you’re gushing around me, sweets.”, you don’t question it.

ass raising, hips bucking. you’re flushed and breathless by the time your orgasm comes crashing down on you. an embarrassingly wanton moan is torn from your throat as your thighs begin to quake, feeble little whimpers of “mph, daddy—! thu-thank you!!” snuffed against the bedsheets you’re clinging so desperately to.

“ah, fuck. so. tight.” satoru punctuates the words with a flick against your clit, making you yelp and try to uselessly scramble off his thighs. “not so fast.” he pulls his fingers out before flipping you over on his lap, your lower back hitting his knees with a painless thud.

“you don’t get to run from it. not when we’ve barely started, kitty.” he’s smiling down at you. wolfish. and whether flying out was a mistake or not, you know for certain you’re not going to make it out alive.

you’re still breathless, skin scorched beneath your baggy, blush sweater. so he pushes it up, palm splaying over the soft of your stomach while the other keeps your shaky thighs wedged apart. staring up at that handsome face almost makes you forget how… unconventional he is. like he can get away with calling you his ‘perfect kitten’ with just a bat of his lashes.

“such a pretty girl.” he’s lilting lightly, like he isn’t tugging the lacey cups of your bra down to free your darling tits. “with a body made to be worshipped.” lidded baby blues flitting between your parted lips and perky nipples. greedy and indecisive.

“toru—!”

he pinches the hardened buds until you correct yourself with a squeak.

“daddy—i mean daddy!”

he only hums, continuing to tweak them while you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze hazy and a little unfocused as his free hand simultaneously, hypnotically, rubs your pussy.

“don’t be rough. please?” you blink up at him, cheeks still stinging with the persistent buzz from the earlier spanking. you’d think he was only half paying attention with the way he fondles your breasts so adamantly, but the way a new grin, all teeth and tease, splits his lips… it tells you he’s already got something in mind.

“well,” he begins with a simper, fingers unremittingly digging into the supple plush of your chest as he feigns consideration. “i won’t have the chance to if we do it at your pace.” and then he stops. letting go of you one second, manhandling you to straddle him the next.

“how about you take me for a ride, cupcake?” god forbid you were beginning to find his oddity endearing. let alone sexy.

but still, the conflict between your rational mind and everything else doesn’t distract you from the flutter you feel in your gut when he holds you so flush against him. cheesing up at you with hands encircling your hips and an erection pressed against the seam of your cunt, satoru waits for your next movement which comes in a dither little grind that makes him want to coo at how cute you are.

you’re dizzy already, earlier stimulation and rising nerves making your head swim just a little more than usual. 

“oh, don’t tell me you’re tapping out before we’ve even started…” he knows he’s provoking you if that smirk is anything to go by. so instead of letting him continue nettling you, you plant both palms on his shoulders and begin to rock against him with a purpose that makes you both draw in a sharp breath.

his curled lips part as if he’s planning to goad but you’re quicker. lunging forward, mouth snagging against his in a messy kiss that knocks the wind from his lungs. arrogance melts off as he pulls you tighter, clothed bulge bucking into your deliberate swivels while you smother his little gasps and piffling groans.

a muffled “mph—she’s eager.” and you can’t help but admire his terribly annoying talent of having an answer for everything. even when you’re on top, making him breathe funny and stifle curses.

you’re taking charge, and it might be because he’s beneath you, or maybe he’s just letting you... no. he’s definitely letting you. the way he’s hauled and handled you like you’re weightless and the smile against your lips is enough confirmation to realise he’s holding back.

tongues twist, seconds blur, and your clothes are strewn carelessly across the lavish floor of his room.

one hand braced on satoru’s shoulder, the other planted on his thigh as you ease down on his length. leaky dip barely prodding past your honeyed entrance as he bites his lip to salvage composure.

“shit, kitten—” he’s choking out with a strangled huff while you’re hyper focused on the kindled stretch of his cock as you sink lower. trying to hold your breath ’cause who knows what kind of wanton noise could slip out, even if you’re still gasping like you can feel him in your throat.

you still haven’t said anything. jaw clenched, breathing deep through your nose while lashes flutter in focus since he’s. just. that. big. 

sweat is already beading at his temple by the time he’s fully sheathed in your velvet heat. neither of you have moved yet and you’re feeling him press in places you never thought existed. dazed and disoriented, you take a moment to accommodate the feeling of being stuffed so wholly.

he’s mumbling out a huffed “you okay?” that somehow tethers you to reality. then he's snaking a hand up your spine, stroking you lightly before his fist curls around the strands of your hair, gently tugging your head to be level with his. he bites back another smirk when he sees you adjust the cat ears that’d barely slipped.

“yeah, fine.” you let the words out with a small puff, hands grasping him so tight they might just brand his skin. cockiness aside, satoru’s been waiting for this for months.

sure, when you first PMed him he’d been skeptical. but in your spurious persistence, he’d conceded. and that’s when the dreams started. 

seriously, it was like you were casting spells on him.

fantasies about what it would feel like to have you, always so cute and dolled up on his screen, wrapped around him with that tight, velvet vice. about the noises you’d make, the way you’d cry and beg for him to let you come.

months he’d been waiting, and now you were here. finally, in his arms.

“mmh. sure you are.” he teases with no real malice. a real snark would’ve been silly coming from the guy whose cheeks are flushed a rosy pink because he’s that affected. one hand is still loosely fisted in your hair while the other traces a sultry path down your shoulder blades to the faint dip of your arch.

you draw in one last shaky breath before beginning to move. what starts as a stuttered lift of your hips turns into almost controlled gyrations. you let out a breathy sigh when you feel him yank you down against his bare chest, heart hammering against your own as he lewdly fucks up into you.

another whimper is caught in your throat, ass knocking against his thighs as you twin his feverish thrusts while he groans loudly by your ear, murmuring something barely coherent about how perfect you are.

you somehow will yourself to drag a hand up his neck and rake through the tousled, pearly stands of his hair. that’s until he pummels into a spot that has you surging forward, touch leaving him to slam against the pillow as you let out a sound that can only be described as animalistic. 

you’re tightening up and he’s still driving into you. you tense like it’s a mission, mouth dropping open in a cry that cracks as you feel your climax crash over you a second time. so intensely you feel like you’re about to convulse, so fiercely you practically keel over and collapse onto him, headband dropping, bouncing off the bed and somewhere on the floor.

“OHMYGODOHMYGOD!!” you’re wailing, hands scrambling to clutch anything and everything while his pace finally begins to stammer.

“o-oh fuck—hah, so fu-fucking tight—!” he’s almost slurring, eyes fluttering shut as he barely manages to hold back. the last few seconds feel like an eternity of overstimulation for you before he’s pulling out with a shudder, sturdy arms squeezing you tight and hoisting you up while his cum spurts against the backs of your thighs.

“so good to me, sweet girl. soooo good to me.” he’s hushing out even more crazed than before, lips trailing over every inch of skin he can reach, easing you down as you continue to thrum with the aftershocks of such a fervid orgasm. you can barely manage a word, heaving against his sculpted front as he mildly flips your positions, hands brushing away sticky curls.

your fingers scrabble to find purchase against his delts, cheeks warm and body beyond boneless. eyes flutter closed like it’s second nature and you hear him puff out a quiet, sated laugh against your cheek.

“m’gonna be so sore tomorrow.” you grumble hoarsely, feeling too hot but burrowing against him despite yourself. he keeps stroking you, touch almost scathing in the way it crawls up your spine and down your achy skin with a barely fettered intensity.

“don’t worry, kitten. daddy’s gonna take realll good care of you. make you feel all better.”

and you almost wonder if this whole thing’s been some kind of orchestrated farce when you hear a stifled snicker.

for fuck’s sake.

a/n: i don’t know what possessed me to write this. sorry.

[cookiieduh]

.જ⁀➴ ♡ ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ᴄᴏᴀᴛᴇᴅ.ᐟ⭑.ᐟ

ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ! ᴀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ? ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴡᴇʟʟ… ᴅᴜʜ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴀ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅᴏ ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ɢʀᴀꜱꜱ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴ!

.pairing.ᐟ ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ .cont.ᐟ MDNI, ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ x ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ‘ᴍᴇᴏᴡꜱ’), ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴄᴀᴛ ᴇᴀʀꜱ, ᴇɢɪʀʟ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ, ᴇᴛᴄ… ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅᴜᴍʙɪꜰɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜʏᴘᴇʀ-ꜰᴇᴍɪɴɪɴᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴘᴏʀɴ ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ’, ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ’ ᴇᴛᴄ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ, ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍ, ꜰʀᴇᴀᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴡᴋ .extra.ᐟ ᴡᴄ,, 2.8ᴋ,, ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

“oh, kitten,” gojo attempts to cajole with a desperation that borders pathetic, batting long white lashes at the webcam as you sit in pretty pixels across his screen.

“puh-leaseeee!”

and he’s been at this for half an hour, begging you to let him fly you out to japan.

“it’s beautiful this time of year, ‘nd i bet you’d look great in a kimono!” he just keeps going on and on, relentlessly begging and deliriously chatting your ear off with crazed ramblings of how he’s going to treat you like the goddess you are the moment you step off that plane.

it’s not like you think he’s making empty promises. you don’t doubt that he has money, not for a second. after all, you’ve managed to wind him so tightly around your finger that he pretty much funds everything for you. college tuition, spa days, shopping trips, and nitro.

especially nitro.

and up until this point, all you’ve had to do was sweet talk him, send a couple suggestive pics, and much to your shame, meow for him. but who cares? it’s a moment of embarrassment for a much lengthier time of luxury.

well, it’s too bad it’s finally catching up to you. now this clingy, needy, discord mod is begging you to come see him.

“but, toruuu.” you’re inwardly cringing at how sugared your voice is, even more so at the demure pout you’re impelling as you look straight into the camera. “it’s sooo far.” and while the sound of your forced, cloyingly sweet voice makes you want to barf, he’s eating it up like the sound alone is candied ambrosia.

“c’mon, kitty.” he’s persistent. you’ve got to give him that.

“it’ll be all expenses paid! i just want to see youuuuu!” and it’s almost jarring to see an attractive, wealthy man, only a handful of years older than you, begging this childishly for a girl he’s only ever seen on his screen to travel overseas and meet him. 

hesitating, weighing out the options in your head before finally conceding with a reluctant sigh of: “send me six hundred to get my hair and nails done.”

you knew you were fucked when you got a notification from cashapp saying six thousand instead.

-

and truly fucked you were, because who would’ve thought that the guy quite literally paying you to meow for him would be a freak?

…

you.

you did.

and maybe you should have trusted your gut instinct because now you’re halfway across the world, bent over your discord daddy’s lap, pretty pink miniskirt hiked up and flipped over to give his palm better access to land mean smack!’s against your steadily flushing rear. 

“ugh, kitty, you are just too cute when you cry like that.” you’re mistaken to think that he would maybe give you even just a second of reprieve from the relentless assault of his hand, but no, he slaps an even harder swat over your poor, pillowy ass.

this has to be what, the tenth—? twelfth—smack? honestly, you’ve lost count. overwhelming humiliation from the sadistic spanking aside, you don’t even want to think about the matching paw print thigh-highs and cat ears he insisted you wear while he gives you this ‘special’ treatment.

“b-but, it h-hurrrrrts—!” you’re whining in earnest now, fingers curling into the fabric of the surprisingly silken sheets as he giggles. giggles. a small, awfully boyish laugh that should have nothing, yet has everything to do with your predicament.

but really, the pain is the last thing on your mind when you’re feeling a heat twist in your gut that has nothing to do with the burn of the slaps that crack against your reddening cheeks. the kind of fervour you’re praying he doesn’t notice slickening your panties, because god knows he’d be remorseless.

“aww, it h-hurts?” he mimics the stutter you didn’t even realise you had with a snicker, rubbing salt into your wounded ego and fractured dignity while you discreetly squeeze your thighs together. “come on, cupcake, you can count five more, rightttt?” firm hands press into your cheeks before spreading them apart, letting the seam of your panties dig further against your core.

“five!?” you all but squawk, squirming atop his lap as he continues kneading your ass like he’s a cat with a bakery to run. he’s infatuated with it, with the way you react when he squeezes and slaps, the way you try and fail to mask the gasps and whimpers as he plays with you.

“mhm, fiiiive moreee.” satoru drags out the words. mocking. teasing. aggravating.

he continues spreading and groping like a man possessed, leaving you simmering in anticipation for torment promised to come. it actually makes you flinch when he abruptly stops, letting the pads of his fingers keep you pinned. you run cold when you hear the sudden, sharp crash of his laughter.

“oh, no.” he breathily chuckles before smearing you so far apart you feel the cool air of the room blow over your clothed pussy. 

“is my little kitty getting wet from being slapped?” and you hate the stupid smirk in his stupid voice. hate the way your stupid back arches out of stupid impulse. 

“s’toru-” you’re practically mewling, head dropping forward into the crook of your elbow as he shamelessly toys with you, dragging a finger up the puffy, sodden slit your panties cling to, probably sporting the biggest grin you can barely begin to imagine.

“didn’t know you were slutty for a little pain.” gojo’s voice drops to a coy murmur, feigning surprise at the more than expected reaction. 

“m’not.” you whine the blatant denial against your forearm as he hooks a finger beneath the cotton of your thong and tugs the flimsy fabric aside, popping a long finger in your cunt so suddenly it makes you choke on a gasp. he groans as if it’s in his ass, biting his lip when he feels you squeeze around him.

“uh-huh, sureee.” he begins to move, pumping in and out with an increasing vigor while you squirm and arch. the type of finger-fucking that’s so mind-melting you barely notice when he slips a second. then a third. stretching you out beyond belief to the point where you aren’t sure your lungs can catch up.

he bumps you up on his knee as his digits mash your insides, slipping his free hand under your front in the fraction of a second to catch your clit with his thumb, jolting incessantly frenzied rings around the puckered nub, making you tremble.

“j-just like—FUUUCK—!” you’re crying out, jerking up in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers. he snickers again. it barely registers. not when he’s found that rigid patch of nerves in your gummy walls, making you muffle a scream into your arm. 

“be a good girl ’n say ‘thank you, daddy!’”

if you weren’t so flustered, you’d probably scoff at the command, brush it off and refuse to call him that. but when his digits are jostling in and out while he’s teasing something along the lines of “you’re gushing around me, sweets.”, you don’t question it.

ass raising, hips bucking. you’re flushed and breathless by the time your orgasm comes crashing down on you. an embarrassingly wanton moan is torn from your throat as your thighs begin to quake, feeble little whimpers of “mph, daddy—! thu-thank you!!” snuffed against the bedsheets you’re clinging so desperately to.

“ah, fuck. so. tight.” satoru punctuates the words with a flick against your clit, making you yelp and try to uselessly scramble off his thighs. “not so fast.” he pulls his fingers out before flipping you over on his lap, your lower back hitting his knees with a painless thud.

“you don’t get to run from it. not when we’ve barely started, kitty.” he’s smiling down at you. wolfish. and whether flying out was a mistake or not, you know for certain you’re not going to make it out alive.

you’re still breathless, skin scorched beneath your baggy, blush sweater. so he pushes it up, palm splaying over the soft of your stomach while the other keeps your shaky thighs wedged apart. staring up at that handsome face almost makes you forget how… unconventional he is. like he can get away with calling you his ‘perfect kitten’ with just a bat of his lashes.

“such a pretty girl.” he’s lilting lightly, like he isn’t tugging the lacey cups of your bra down to free your darling tits. “with a body made to be worshipped.” lidded baby blues flitting between your parted lips and perky nipples. greedy and indecisive.

“toru—!”

he pinches the hardened buds until you correct yourself with a squeak.

“daddy—i mean daddy!”

he only hums, continuing to tweak them while you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze hazy and a little unfocused as his free hand simultaneously, hypnotically, rubs your pussy.

“don’t be rough. please?” you blink up at him, cheeks still stinging with the persistent buzz from the earlier spanking. you’d think he was only half paying attention with the way he fondles your breasts so adamantly, but the way a new grin, all teeth and tease, splits his lips… it tells you he’s already got something in mind.

“well,” he begins with a simper, fingers unremittingly digging into the supple plush of your chest as he feigns consideration. “i won’t have the chance to if we do it at your pace.” and then he stops. letting go of you one second, manhandling you to straddle him the next.

“how about you take me for a ride, cupcake?” god forbid you were beginning to find his oddity endearing. let alone sexy.

but still, the conflict between your rational mind and everything else doesn’t distract you from the flutter you feel in your gut when he holds you so flush against him. cheesing up at you with hands encircling your hips and an erection pressed against the seam of your cunt, satoru waits for your next movement which comes in a dither little grind that makes him want to coo at how cute you are.

you’re dizzy already, earlier stimulation and rising nerves making your head swim just a little more than usual. 

“oh, don’t tell me you’re tapping out before we’ve even started…” he knows he’s provoking you if that smirk is anything to go by. so instead of letting him continue nettling you, you plant both palms on his shoulders and begin to rock against him with a purpose that makes you both draw in a sharp breath.

his curled lips part as if he’s planning to goad but you’re quicker. lunging forward, mouth snagging against his in a messy kiss that knocks the wind from his lungs. arrogance melts off as he pulls you tighter, clothed bulge bucking into your deliberate swivels while you smother his little gasps and piffling groans.

a muffled “mph—she’s eager.” and you can’t help but admire his terribly annoying talent of having an answer for everything. even when you’re on top, making him breathe funny and stifle curses.

you’re taking charge, and it might be because he’s beneath you, or maybe he’s just letting you... no. he’s definitely letting you. the way he’s hauled and handled you like you’re weightless and the smile against your lips is enough confirmation to realise he’s holding back.

tongues twist, seconds blur, and your clothes are strewn carelessly across the lavish floor of his room.

one hand braced on satoru’s shoulder, the other planted on his thigh as you ease down on his length. leaky dip barely prodding past your honeyed entrance as he bites his lip to salvage composure.

“shit, kitten—” he’s choking out with a strangled huff while you’re hyper focused on the kindled stretch of his cock as you sink lower. trying to hold your breath ’cause who knows what kind of wanton noise could slip out, even if you’re still gasping like you can feel him in your throat.

you still haven’t said anything. jaw clenched, breathing deep through your nose while lashes flutter in focus since he’s. just. that. big. 

sweat is already beading at his temple by the time he’s fully sheathed in your velvet heat. neither of you have moved yet and you’re feeling him press in places you never thought existed. dazed and disoriented, you take a moment to accommodate the feeling of being stuffed so wholly.

he’s mumbling out a huffed “you okay?” that somehow tethers you to reality. then he's snaking a hand up your spine, stroking you lightly before his fist curls around the strands of your hair, gently tugging your head to be level with his. he bites back another smirk when he sees you adjust the cat ears that’d barely slipped.

“yeah, fine.” you let the words out with a small puff, hands grasping him so tight they might just brand his skin. cockiness aside, satoru’s been waiting for this for months.

sure, when you first PMed him he’d been skeptical. but in your spurious persistence, he’d conceded. and that’s when the dreams started. 

seriously, it was like you were casting spells on him.

fantasies about what it would feel like to have you, always so cute and dolled up on his screen, wrapped around him with that tight, velvet vice. about the noises you’d make, the way you’d cry and beg for him to let you come.

months he’d been waiting, and now you were here. finally, in his arms.

“mmh. sure you are.” he teases with no real malice. a real snark would’ve been silly coming from the guy whose cheeks are flushed a rosy pink because he’s that affected. one hand is still loosely fisted in your hair while the other traces a sultry path down your shoulder blades to the faint dip of your arch.

you draw in one last shaky breath before beginning to move. what starts as a stuttered lift of your hips turns into almost controlled gyrations. you let out a breathy sigh when you feel him yank you down against his bare chest, heart hammering against your own as he lewdly fucks up into you.

another whimper is caught in your throat, ass knocking against his thighs as you twin his feverish thrusts while he groans loudly by your ear, murmuring something barely coherent about how perfect you are.

you somehow will yourself to drag a hand up his neck and rake through the tousled, pearly stands of his hair. that’s until he pummels into a spot that has you surging forward, touch leaving him to slam against the pillow as you let out a sound that can only be described as animalistic. 

you’re tightening up and he’s still driving into you. you tense like it’s a mission, mouth dropping open in a cry that cracks as you feel your climax crash over you a second time. so intensely you feel like you’re about to convulse, so fiercely you practically keel over and collapse onto him, headband dropping, bouncing off the bed and somewhere on the floor.

“OHMYGODOHMYGOD!!” you’re wailing, hands scrambling to clutch anything and everything while his pace finally begins to stammer.

“o-oh fuck—hah, so fu-fucking tight—!” he’s almost slurring, eyes fluttering shut as he barely manages to hold back. the last few seconds feel like an eternity of overstimulation for you before he’s pulling out with a shudder, sturdy arms squeezing you tight and hoisting you up while his cum spurts against the backs of your thighs.

“so good to me, sweet girl. soooo good to me.” he’s hushing out even more crazed than before, lips trailing over every inch of skin he can reach, easing you down as you continue to thrum with the aftershocks of such a fervid orgasm. you can barely manage a word, heaving against his sculpted front as he mildly flips your positions, hands brushing away sticky curls.

your fingers scrabble to find purchase against his delts, cheeks warm and body beyond boneless. eyes flutter closed like it’s second nature and you hear him puff out a quiet, sated laugh against your cheek.

“m’gonna be so sore tomorrow.” you grumble hoarsely, feeling too hot but burrowing against him despite yourself. he keeps stroking you, touch almost scathing in the way it crawls up your spine and down your achy skin with a barely fettered intensity.

“don’t worry, kitten. daddy’s gonna take realll good care of you. make you feel all better.”

and you almost wonder if this whole thing’s been some kind of orchestrated farce when you hear a stifled snicker.

for fuck’s sake.

a/n: i don’t know what possessed me to write this. sorry.

[cookiieduh]

ᴛᴀɢꜱ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ @edensrose hope you don’t mind being tagged in a choso post… ₍⁽⁰⁻⁰⁾₎

♡ ♡ boyfie choso who….ᐟ ♡ ♡

.cont.ᐟ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ (ᴅᴜʜ), ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ + ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ, ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ, ʟᴏᴡᴋ ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟ.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… isn’t the type to make playlists of songs dedicated to you, but does take pictures of the things that remind him of you. the pretty streaks of sunset on the way home? as bright as your smile. the bush of lilies he saw on the way to run errands? the scent is almost as sweet as you. and he’d send them to you, too. at least once on most days, you’d get a message, a little reminder of how much you mean to him. of course, you see the beauty of the one you love in the world around you.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… is absolutely enthralled each time you apply makeup. whether it’s daily routine or only on special occasions, he’s infatuated with the way you guide the brush across your face, the way you apply the gloss and how it makes you look so kissable. you’d be sitting at the vanity, brushing over your lashes with a coat of mascara while he sits on the bed and just watches. some might call it overbearing, he calls it admiration. if anyone were to appreciate the artistry that only works to enhance the natural beauty of your features, it’s him.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… makes sure neither of you leave the house without a little peck first. you wouldn’t have to ask him, he’d press his lips against your cheek before you’ve even got your shoes on. so the first time you ‘forget’, he doesn’t say anything. maybe he gets a little pouty at the supposed neglect, but he never pushes. if it’s a repeat offence, though, he might subtly tap his cheek, or perhaps he’d mumble out a little “where’s my goodbye kiss?”, pretending to say it as if he had no intention of you hearing. but when you crack at his antics and plant a little smooch on his temple, the small smile he sports tells you everything.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… was super shy in the early stages of your relationship. even now, he gets giddy when you declare an earnest “i love you.”, and nervous because he wants to give you the world. poor, overworked, and tired-beyond-belief mind conjuring up schemes on how to swoon you, court you, as if he isn’t the one you share your nights with already. all his gestures are intentional, carved to curl your lips into that beautiful smile that makes his heart do an entire gymnastics sequence.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… makes it no secret that he likes being told what to do. no, he doesn’t like it, he loves it. because not only does he breathe to serve you - at least, in his mind - he can almost forget the responsibilities he’s endowed outside the bubble of your shared haven. you ask him for tea, even if he insists you just tell him to just make you a cup since he likes it when you order him around. of course, this extends to more heated moments. ones where he’s looking up at you with glossy eyes, asking you if he’s been good enough for a reward… ♡

a/n: i need to write a proper fic abt him

[cookiieduh]

♡ ♡ boyfie choso who….ᐟ ♡ ♡

.cont.ᐟ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ (ᴅᴜʜ), ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ + ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ, ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ, ʟᴏᴡᴋ ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟ.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… isn’t the type to make playlists of songs dedicated to you, but does take pictures of the things that remind him of you. the pretty streaks of sunset on the way home? as bright as your smile. the bush of lilies he saw on the way to run errands? the scent is almost as sweet as you. and he’d send them to you, too. at least once on most days, you’d get a message, a little reminder of how much you mean to him. of course, you see the beauty of the one you love in the world around you.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… is absolutely enthralled each time you apply makeup. whether it’s daily routine or only on special occasions, he’s infatuated with the way you guide the brush across your face, the way you apply the gloss and how it makes you look so kissable. you’d be sitting at the vanity, brushing over your lashes with a coat of mascara while he sits on the bed and just watches. some might call it overbearing, he calls it admiration. if anyone were to appreciate the artistry that only works to enhance the natural beauty of your features, it’s him.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… makes sure neither of you leave the house without a little peck first. you wouldn’t have to ask him, he’d press his lips against your cheek before you’ve even got your shoes on. so the first time you ‘forget’, he doesn’t say anything. maybe he gets a little pouty at the supposed neglect, but he never pushes. if it’s a repeat offence, though, he might subtly tap his cheek, or perhaps he’d mumble out a little “where’s my goodbye kiss?”, pretending to say it as if he had no intention of you hearing. but when you crack at his antics and plant a little smooch on his temple, the small smile he sports tells you everything.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… was super shy in the early stages of your relationship. even now, he gets giddy when you declare an earnest “i love you.”, and nervous because he wants to give you the world. poor, overworked, and tired-beyond-belief mind conjuring up schemes on how to swoon you, court you, as if he isn’t the one you share your nights with already. all his gestures are intentional, carved to curl your lips into that beautiful smile that makes his heart do an entire gymnastics sequence.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… makes it no secret that he likes being told what to do. no, he doesn’t like it, he loves it. because not only does he breathe to serve you - at least, in his mind - he can almost forget the responsibilities he’s endowed outside the bubble of your shared haven. you ask him for tea, even if he insists you just tell him to just make you a cup since he likes it when you order him around. of course, this extends to more heated moments. ones where he’s looking up at you with glossy eyes, asking you if he’s been good enough for a reward… ♡

a/n: i need to write a proper fic abt him