#mold resistant strains

[moldresistantstrains]

🍭Explore 23 of Sweet Seeds' bestselling feminized and autoflowering seeds in my buyers' guide. 🌱

💜Famed for their exotic and colorful cultivars, Sweet Seeds is a highly popular breeder in the cannabis seed industry.

🔗https://moldresistantstrains.com/the-best-sweet-seeds-genetics-strain-guide/

[britishraptor]

Res7 and Res8 ramble ahead

Do you think the programming instilled into Eva, that which made her obsessed with the concept of family, was psychological brainwashing, or something coded into the specific variation of mold she was made up of?

If it’s the latter, is it possible that the reason Ethan Winters was able to go through so much bullshit - WILLINGLY went through so much bullshit - was because, after being reanimated by that same mold, he too experienced the programming and became obsessed with the concept of family?

Mia cut off his hand with a chainsaw, attacked him multiple times, and he had to fight through hell to rescue her, and he still pulled through. His daughter was kidnapped by monsters and he could’ve turned back at any time. She was literally dissected!! In jars! Effectively dead! And he kept going. He was impaled, lost literal limbs, and experienced horrors beyond human comprehension.

And when his role as father was over? When his daughter was safe, and he was no longer needed? Well, he crumbled, didn’t he?

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ask me to leave and i’ll stay forever ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru is stubborn; even when plagued by such a high fever, he insists there’s no need to take care of him. thankfully, you’re equally as stubborn.

word count; 10.8k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, implied non-sorcerer!reader, sickfic, reverse comfort, sickening amounts of fluff, lots of petnames, satoru gojo vs the mortifying ordeal of being loved, just a tinyyyy bit of angst if u rlly squint, literally just satoru being pampered for like 10k words straight, he’s cute when he’s sick but still manages to be a lil shit <33, he’s also a huge sap you have been warned!!

a/n; what can i say, im a proud member of the ”satoru gojo needs to be babied relentlessly” club <33 he’s just a little guy!! tagging @catchuuu my beloved for being the sweetest enjoy a healthy dose of sick sleepy satoru <33 i am tagging all toru enjoyers in spirit btw i love u all

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

head buried into a big pillow, white locks tousled and sticking to his forehead — skin sweaty, hot to the touch, with a flushed face to match. heavy breaths fall from his parted lips, blinking in and out of consciousness, squeezing his eyes shut.

it’s nothing like the joyous, loud, cocky satoru you’re so used to. he’s weak. he’s fatigued.

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

”really, baby,” he slurs, raspy and dry. still attempting to raise himself up, arms straining under the weight of his shivering body. ”there’s no need f’ —”

unceremoniously, his limbs give out beneath him, and he tumbles right back down; a meek little wince escaping his throat as his face falls back into the mattress. the sound makes your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.

”ah. that’s…” he tries to speak, a disgruntled hum muffled by the sheets. ”… annoying.”

satoru sounds frustrated. you can tell he’s resisting the urge to close his eyes, a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water. he’s still breathing unevenly, still sweating, still burning up — you can practically feel it, from where you’re standing, crouched down by his bed.

you’ve never, ever seen satoru like this. you’ve seen him sniffling during flu season, wrecked with headaches during rainy season. you’ve seen him vulnerable; not many times, but enough that it matters. 

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

”satoru, please just —” you croak, gnawing at your bottom lip. trying desperately to swallow the worry in your chest. ”don’t overdo it. please?”

you can hear the anxious little timbre of your own voice, and you can feel the frown tugging at your lips. but you can’t do anything to quell the insistent pitter patter of your heartbeat, the ache that accompanies it. satoru’s lying down, still trying to gather the strength to reassure you, even through the feverish haze clouding his mind. 

he looks so small.

this wasn’t what you were expecting to see, today. you were expecting to meet up with satoru, and see his happy little grin, those tiny dimples and freckles that only show themselves in the light of the sun. you were expecting to feel the weight of his hand in yours, as you strolled down to the new crêpe stand he’s been wanting to check out since he first found their instagram account.

you were expecting to see him happy. healthy. a little obnoxious, a little annoying — but hopelessly sweet. all the love you could ever need, molded into a human shape. your little angel.

a sigh slips from your lips. you can’t help it; because satoru is just so stubborn, so closed off, and he can be such an idiot sometimes. you knew something was off the moment he sent you that text, asking you oh so charmingly, apologetically, if you could postpone your date for just an hour or so. you knew something was wrong, but he still wouldn’t let up until you brought out the 🥺 emojis. 

and then he told you he was fine. it’s all he ever is, apparently.

my throat’s just a little scratchy, is all. wouldn’t want you to miss out on the voice you love so much, yeah?

give me an hour and i’ll be perfect for you. <3

moron.

he’s curled up in a fetal position, trying to stop himself from shivering, muttering little reassurances under his breath that you can’t make out. wearing ripped jeans and a nice jacket, like he was fully prepared to head out like this — like he genuinely thought an hour, some painkillers and a dream would be enough to chase away a fever this severe. like he was so desperate to see you he was fully willing to take that risk.

moron. moron. he should’ve called you the moment he realized he was sick. instead, you had to coax him into letting you come over, with a flurry of sad and cute emojis you know make him go weak at the knees when they’re coming from you.

and here you are. in satoru’s house, in front of his bed, trying to convince him that he is, in fact, sick. 

but he just won’t listen.

”just — gimme a couple minutes, honey?” your boyfriend mumbles, barely coherent, stringing words together haphazardly. awfully dizzy. ”i just need the painkillers to kick in, i promise i —”

”satoru.”

there’s a sad tint to your voice, now. unmistakable. one that satoru notices, even through the feverish, muddy filter over his reality. 

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

as gently as you can, you settle down on the bed, eyes painfully softened. overflowing with care. towering over him, leaning close — to press your lips against his scorching forehead, brushing away his sweaty bangs with a palpable tenderness. your voice soothing, coming out almost as a low coo. you’re frustrated, and exasperated.

but most of all, you’re worried.

”go back to sleep,” you hum, a gentle command. your hand finds his, cold skin meeting warm, tracing circles over his palm. ”i’ll take care of you.”

”there’s no need,” he mutters, instantaneous. so used to denying kindness. 

but he curls an arm around your waist, anyway, tugging you closer; a little needy. like you’re much too far away for his liking. finally beginning to settle down, coaxed into resting by the soft touches your grace him with. it’s only a matter of time.

so you keep your lips against his forehead, cradling his slender fingers in yours, murmuring little whispered reassurances. and before you know it, his lashes have fluttered shut, like a white dove landing on the ground. he still looks so troubled, so meek. you can’t resist the urge to soothe him, hand cupping his face, thumb smoothing over the apple of his cheek. you watch him lean into it, eyes dripping with care. your poor baby. 

for a couple precious moments, you allow yourself to indulge in the sight. even like this, he looks a bit like an angel, a painting come to life. like one wrong brushstroke could smudge him. 

so you’re delicate, as you trace little hearts into his skin, delicate as you maneuver his body enough to peel the layers of clothing off him — leaving him in only an oversized tee and a pair of briefs. satoru can only whine, softly, so quiet you barely even hear him. so disoriented, on the brink of falling into a deep slumber. some part of him is trying to resist, you’re sure, still agonizing over the date he’s missing out on. as if anything matters more than his health.

but it doesn’t work. he can only let out a tiny groan, hopelessly pliant as you tuck him in, pulling a big blanket over his shoulders. you card through his hair, another soft kiss planted on his sweaty forehead — and your hand stays between his locks until you’re sure he’s asleep. his breathing mellows out, his grip around your waist loosens, seeking comfort from you even in his dreams.

you’d crawl under the blankets with him, but you have work to do.

stealing one final glance at your fever-ridden lover, your heartbeat ricochets. he still looks so meek, all warm and sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin. a frown tugs at your bottom lip.

satoru is always so stubborn, refusing to lean on others for support. you wish he had called you immediately, nagged at you to come baby him. sure, you might’ve sighed in faux exasperation, and teased him a little, but it still would’ve made you feel happy. useful. and you would’ve done it in a heartbeat. maybe, if you just prove that you can take care of him properly, he’ll do it next time.

so you stand up, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead one last time, and make your way towards the kitchen.

satoru’s house is spacious. a little too spacious, enough for at least three people to live in comfortably; nice furniture, an expensive sofa in the living room, a large tv you’re almost certain he only keeps around for white noise. such are the ways of the rich, you suppose. he doesn’t invite you over very often, so you’ve never had the chance to get very affiliated with the space. it’s always the other way around — him, waiting for you on the couch when you get home, chirping out an unconvincing don’t even worry about it, baby! when you ask how he got in without a key. or him, showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, filling the sleepy silence with jokes to distract you from the bags under his eyes.

(he likes it when you cling to him in your sleep — he sleeps a lot better that way. that’s what he told you, at least, when you brought him coffee in bed that one time. a little glimmer of honesty.)

he stays over so often he might as well just move in, but you aren’t really sure how to even approach that subject. some part of you fears it’d be too much, too intimate, that he’d pack his bags and run away. bringing all his secrets with him, that soft laughter you’ve grown so fond of. so you figure it’s better to let him make a home out of yours, let him curl up on your couch and snack on the candy you hid in your kitchen cabinets. that’s safe for him.

and now that you’ve seen his home up close — if you can even call it that — you think you’re starting to understand his preference. because it’s spacious, yes, but also empty. save for expensive furniture and fake houseplants, there isn’t anything to indicate that the apartment belongs to him, that he feels comfortable there. like he hasn’t even bothered to make it his. like it’s about to be sold, and you’re just one of the potential buyers, checking the place out. admiring the patterns of the floorboards and the walls.

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all. 

his own bedroom was another story, a much more pleasant one. a lot more satoru. filled with little trinkets, key charms and souvenirs and silly figurines. a framed photo of three students by the windowsill, an old uniform hanging by his closet, socks strewn about here and there. a dying houseplant. comic books and movie posters and a ps5 you don’t think he’s touched since he finished spiderman 2. a king sized bed, that makes him look like a spoiled little princess when he’s lying in it, next to a cat plushie you won for him at a fair. knowing he actually sleeps with it kind of makes you want to cry.

there’s this particular scent, too, lingering in the air. mellow, nostalgic, the kind that soothes you with just a whiff; a blend between sunlight, expensive cologne, and something sweet. it clings to all his favorite clothes, to his skin. you’d live in it if you could. 

something constricts, inside your chest — like thorny vines strangling your beating heart, pressing down ever so slightly. just thinking about it, about him, about his distressed expression as his head hit the pillow. making your way over to his kitchen, getting yourself affiliated with the space, preparing to make a good soup for his fever. the fridge is almost empty, save for sweets and that one drink you like. the takeout boxes on his kitchen table tells you all you need to know.

it only makes you worry more.

luckily, you were clever enough to buy your own ingredients on the way here. chop, chop, into tiny little pieces. chicken soup should help, shouldn’t it? it’s all you can focus on, all you can hope for. anything is fine; you just want to help him, be of use somehow. he does so much for you.

you just want to give some of it back.

satoru’s loneliness is a subtle thing. flexible, alert, slipping away at the slightest sign of knowing eyes. for someone who’s so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesn’t seem to make any noise when he’s alone. he curls into himself, just a bit, and a kind of reminiscence smooths over the contours of his face. 

that’s when you see him. that lonely, lonely guy. resigned to his self-imposed isolation, paradoxically yearning for something more. watching as the cherry trees bloom, like they’ll give him the answers he seeks once they bear fruit.

but the moment you come into view, he smiles. knowing you won’t push it — that you’ll let him take his time. that you’ll let him flee, just a little. 

still, you can’t help but wish he’d lean on you a little more. you wish you could chase his loneliness away with a pitchfork, but it’s a fickle creature. you somehow doubt he wants to part with it. 

all you can do is love him. love him, love him, and love him some more; until he’s had his fill.

(you’re not sure he ever will. it’s a good thing, a very good thing, because you’re almost certain you’ll never run out.) 

and that’s why you’re here. in his ghost of a home, his kitchen, pouring water into a large pot. tender, sprinkling love over every single action, every slice and dice, every piece of chicken and veggies thrown into the boiling water. you try and you try, hoping it’ll reach him.

but before you can make another attempt, something reaches you, instead.

two long arms curl around your waist, suddenly, something warm and soft pressing itself against your back. and you almost flinch, completely caught up in the stirring of the soup, unsure of how much time has passed since you began. it jolts you out of your thoughts. 

you know who it is, though. never mind the fact that he’s the only other person in the apartment; you know it’s him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.

it’s awfully sweet, the way he clings to you, the soft little blissful sigh that slips from his lips. but before you can feel moved at the domesticity of the gesture, worry clouds your senses. he doesn’t even get the chance to speak.

”satoru —” you place a palm on his forearm, craning your head to look back at him. his forehead rests against your shoulder, and his eyes are closed. he’s still so warm, too warm. ”what are you doing here? you should be resting.” 

your boyfriend mumbles something, under his breath, something that your ears can’t quite digest. he shifts, a little, as if getting ready to put on some sort of act — to smile and joke, or laugh and tease you. you can imagine what he’d say if he wasn’t in such a feverish state; he’d hug you from behind, a low purr of what’cha up to? whispered right into your ear. then you’d jolt, and he’d giggle sheepishly, satisfied with the reaction.

but now, all he can do is cough. still leaning against you, gripping onto your midriff a little more desperately than usual. you step away from the stove, turning around, making sure your hands never leave his. looking up at him with concern in your eyes, noticing his little frown.

”c’mon, you need to lie down.” you reach for his cheek, cupping it in your palm, and he practically melts into it. enjoying the chilly sensation to his fever-ridden skin. “the soup’ll be finished soon, okay?”

”… you made,” he tries, syllables falling from his lips haphazardly. ”soup —” a series of coughs. they cut him off, and the worry in your chest only deepens. 

“don’t push yourself, okay? you’re really sick, dummy.” satoru pouts, but doesn’t say anything, only clinging to you tighter when you usher him away. “let’s go back to your room, alright?”

but he won’t budge. he’s so sleepy, so sick and delirious, putting all his body weight on you. you try your best not to stumble beneath it.

”honey,” you plead, holding him securely in your embrace. his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. ”work with me, please? just gotta get you back to bed —”

”’s…” he whispers, suddenly, a raspy little thing. scratchy, meek, awfully earnest; you wonder if he’s too sick not to be. ”… too lonely without you.” 

a moment passes. your breath hitches pitifully, at the base of your throat.

satoru is hugging you so tightly, as if you could disappear at any moment, slip away if he doesn’t keep you close. he’s holding you as if pleading for comfort, for a touch of safety. as if he needs you. if his meek little admission hadn’t already melted your heart the marrow, that thought certainly would’ve done the job.

taking a moment to collect yourself, you inhale, face surely aflame. satoru just nuzzles into your shoulder, too tired to say anything else, wanting to be close to you. it’s a wonder your knees don’t buckle.

gently, you let your hand trail upwards, palm smoothing down his hair. softly, like he’s a clingy, overgrown cat. ”sorry,” you start, just a little breathless. ”i’ll be with you, okay? won’t leave you alone. i promise.”

there’s an earnesty in your words that you doubt you could ever fake. satoru must hear it too, you think, because he finally begins to work with you. allowing you to stumble towards his bedroom, supporting his weight.

but once you make it to his bed, he still refuses to let go of you.

”toru, gotta go finish that soup. ’n make you some tea.” you rub his back, soothingly, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. shaking his head and emitting a throaty groan, only squeezing you tighter when you try to guide him under the covers. how cruel of him, to act so cute when said soup is most likely boiling over by the stove. ”please, sweetie? it won’t take long. i promise. you can go back to sleep.”

another groggy huff. you’re both still standing by the edge of the bed, and satoru still won’t let you leave. all you can do is sigh, smearing a little kiss against his neck. 

he squirms, ever so slightly, and you get an idea.

so you keep pressing little kisses against his skin, knowing just how to make him melt. feeling him relax in your embrace, snuggle into your chest, so pliant that he lets you tuck him in — as long as your lips stay pressed against his jaw. before he can realize what’s happening, you grab hold of the blanket, draping it over him; his half-lidded eyes blinking up at you. you press a final kiss against his forehead, grabbing the cat plushie from the edge of the bed and placing it close enough for satoru to reach if need be.

”i’ll hurry, toru. be a good boy and stay here, alright?” 

a teasing lilt sneaks into your voice, coaxed out by how adorable your boyfriend looks like this; baby blue eyes all droopy, snowy hair messy as it falls across the cushion he’s resting on. blinking sluggishly, grunting a little in response. 

when you scurry off the bed and make your way towards the door, you glance back at him. he’s still looking in your direction, with half-lidded eyes, and your chest aches. ”i’ll be back soon, baby,” you try to soothe him. “try to sleep.”

this time, you hurry. body working almost on autopilot, images of your boyfriend still tugging at your heartstrings like he’s arranging an orchestra, moving your legs forward. before you know it, you’re walking back, carrying a tray with both your hands. steam wafts up from the hot soup and the warm cup of tea, shaking a little as you walk, a pair of painkillers in your pocket. just in case he needs more. an eager, pulsating joy rushes through your veins — now you can be with him, tend to him, not leave him alone in a room so like him you wish you could stay there forever. 

your footsteps are light, almost careful as they cross the threshold. satoru stirs, waiting for you to come to his side, looking like a kicked puppy in his giant bed. he tries to lift himself up, but it looks like it requires an intense amount of focus, like his elbows could buckle any second. 

”careful,” you croon, hurrying over, placing the tray on the nightstand. gently pushing him back down on the mattress. he complies almost instantly, too out of it to put up a real fight. staring at you, as if in awe.

to satoru, you appear almost as an angel, a somewhat blurry figure that he recognizes without looking. your very presence is soothing, like a lullaby in human form. with the hazy filter clouding his mind, he can’t even seem to form words correctly — all satoru can focus on is you. your movements, the lilt of your voice, a cold hand dulling the heat of his forehead.  

his fever still hasn’t gone down. you try and muster a smile, but you’re sure it must look painfully coated in unease. crouching down, you place your elbows on the bed, your jaw meeting the mattress. you’re at eye level with him, now.

”hey,” you start, low and comforting. you don’t want to be too loud. ”sorry it took so long.”

using what little energy he has left, satoru crosses the distance between you, inching closer and closer. noticing it, you reach a hand out to cup his cheek — lips quick to find his forehead. a barely audible sigh leaves him, and you smile.

”d’you think you can eat?” you whisper, gazing at him fondly. treating him a little like a baby, maybe, but you can’t help it when he’s like this. quiet as a mouse. ”i made soup and tea… sound okay?”

he tries to make a noise. it comes out sounding like a strange blend between a dissatisfied groan and an affirming hum, but he still ends up nodding slightly. you wonder if indulging you is ingrained into his bone structure. 

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

once again, your boyfriend only hums — but he does begin to move, trying to hoist himself up, wobbling pitifully. you help, keeping him steady until his spine meets the headboard. slumped against it, he blinks slowly, feverishly.

”thank you.” you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, before reaching for the cup of tea, the scent of chamomile and lavender filling your senses. you blow on it softly. ”here. it should help with your throat, so try to drink a bit, okay? s’ got honey in it.”

silently, he accepts the cup, bringing it to his lips. when he takes a sip, you catch the slightest hint of a grimace on his lips; even with your warning of careful, it’s hot, you think he must have managed to burn his tongue. 

satoru keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to worry you. but he can’t say bringing himself to drink it is an easy endeavor, with how sweaty it makes him feel, how it forces him to acknowledge how painfully dry his throat is. how he can’t even taste the herbs.

he wants to be good for you, though.

so he gulps it down, slowly, managing to sip almost all of it until you decide to give him a break. compared to this morning, he already feels just a little better, a little less like he’s in a fever dream. you’re sitting by the bedside, so patient, so caring. he can’t take his eyes off you, even now. clearing his throat, attempting to get used to speaking again. ”thanks.”

the mutter sounds strained, but slightly easier on the ears, easier to make out than before. courtesy of the honey, you assume. gosh, you hadn’t realized you’d begun to miss his voice so much. 

”no problem,” you hum, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “think you can eat something? or is that too much?”

”’course,” he croaks. there’s a slight sense of liveliness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, but before he can continue, he’s caught off by a small coughing fit. harmless, but sufficient in making you worry. 

”no need to force yourself,” you soothe, patting down his head, watching as he quiets down. the tea might’ve given him a temporary energy boost, but you still don’t want him to overdo it. “just relax, satoru.”

he hums, weakly, and you reward him with a light ruffle of his hair. then you direct your attention to the soup on the nightstand, still hot, smelling of vegetable broth and fresh chicken and coriander. you bring the bowl down to your lap, and take a spoonful of the soup, blowing on it like you did with the tea. bringing it towards his lips. 

”i dunno if it’ll taste very good,” you admit, scratching absently at the back of your neck. ”but it should help with the fever, at least. i’d be happy if you could eat a bit.”

as his lips make contact with the metal of the spoon, satoru can’t help but let himself be swept away. he still feels a little too hazy, too feverish to really comprehend what’s happening; he feels oddly bare like this, vulnerable, a little afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he doesn’t keep it shut. so he opts to accept the treatment he’s receiving, not putting up a fight or making a fuss. not meeting your expectant eyes.

(he feels a little shy, being spoonfed by you. how very unlike him.)

the soup does feel soothing. he thinks he can even get a sense of the taste, how hard you must’ve worked on it. but more than anything, the way you’re acting is like balm to his soul — looking at him so kindly, treating him so tenderly. offering him spoon after spoon with gentle words of encouragement. being babied in such a way makes him feel so oddly content that he’s almost embarrassed. it should be the other way around. 

yet here you are, spoonfeeding him soup that you made yourself, because he’s sick, even though he hates to admit it, and you care about him. he allows the information to linger in the back of his head, for a while, wallowing in the comfort it brings him. fully comprehending it would take too much of a toll on him, in this state. 

satoru basks in the intimacy of the situation, and so do you. brushing strands of hair away when they stick to his skin, pressing your lips against his forehead to check his temperature. you keep doing it until satoru’s appetite dwindles.

”alright, that should be fine —” you glance down at the bowl, now roughly half-empty. more than enough, you think. ”uhh… how do you feel?”

”… better,” satoru answers, truthfully, the ghost of a smile on his glossy lips. ”thank you.”

for a second, you only stare, saying nothing. there’s something in satoru’s expression that catches you off guard, something that’s a little hard to identify. is it the way the light reflects off his skin, his pupils? the red, feverish flush of his skin? that flimsy little smile? or is it the honesty in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like he’s trying to convey something he can’t put into words? 

as you look at him, take him in, the boy you love so dearly, you can’t help but feel like he just carved open his chest — let you peek inside his ribcage. it’s hard not to feel flustered, in the presence of something so vulnerable.

and he’s thanking you. as if taking care of him is a great burden, a chore, something you’d demand gratitude for. you want to tell him that it’s the bare minimum, the very least of what he deserves. the very least of what you could, should do for him.

you want to tell him that he’s safe, here. that there’s no need to be the strongest, whatever the hell that means, that he can let go of the burdens you know he hides from you. that he can just be your sick, terribly stubborn boyfriend.

”… okay,” is all you breathe out, every other word getting stuck in the back of your throat. ”that’s good.”

satoru’s fingers curl around yours, suddenly, where they lay on your lap. his movements are still a little groggy, disoriented, as he brings your hand up to his lips. they’re warm and soft, especially so in light of his fever. he closes his eyes, white lashes catching the light of the sun, flitting in through the haphazardly closed blinds. your heartbeat stutters.

”… love you,” he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes don’t leave his face. and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to.

”i love you too,” you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldn’t bear to keep him waiting, even for a second. ”… satoru.”

he smiles against your skin. he always does, at the sound of those words. you make him feel so terribly, terribly weak, all the time, everyday. you make him feel so human, and he can’t bring himself to think of it as a bad thing anymore. 

he’s still cradling your hand when he brings it down to the blanket. ”thanks for coming,” he continues, pushing himself. trying to get the words out while he still has the energy to say them. “you didn’t have to.”

they’re a little clumsy, a little stale on his tongue, but they’re honest. he is thankful — the prospect of being seen like this is discomforting, gruelingly so, but he doesn’t mind nearly as much if it’s you. he’d never tell you, but he did feel just a little lonely, when he woke up this morning. disoriented, enveloped by hot flashes of pain, in a way he’s not used to in the slightest. missing out on your date, too, that he had been looking forward to ever since you decided on a time. 

but, as if sensing it, you came to his rescue. the feeling of your lips on his skin was the first sensation he felt, when he woke up for the second time — with you by his side, this time. his guardian angel, carrying the scent of spring with you. a memory of a certain boy, of better times. 

(satoru thinks you’re nostalgia personified. he likes to imagine that you met as children, underneath a cherry tree somewhere, but he knows it’s not true. there’s no way he wouldn’t remember you.)

you smile. pleased, at his show of vulnerability, small as it may be. ”i wanted to,” you assure him. equally honest, equally full of double meanings and hidden messages that neither of you need to uncover to understand. ”… i care about you. of course i’d come.”

a light, raspy chuckle; that’s all satoru manages to vocalize. his mind is stuffed, and there’s an ache in his chest, longing to be filled. it’s been there for a while now. but somehow, you seem to fill it up, slowly but surely, almost effortlessly — with every sound you make, every slight movement, every flicker of an expression on your face. everything seems so effortlessly perfect, in his eyes.

the words leave his lips before his mind can think the thought to reel them back in. 

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

then your eyes soften, considerably so, crumbling at the corners like the cookies satoru loves so much. he’s looking at you, eyes soft in a similar sense, layered over with adoration. you think the love inside your chest might crawl out of your throat and eat him alive.

you give him a chuckle of your own, quivering slightly. terribly fond. this time, you’re the one who drags his hand up to meet your lips; kissing his knuckle softly. his breath hitches.

”i’m the one who should be saying that to you,” you grin, a little weakly. and you mean it. you don’t think you’ve ever meant anything more. 

it’s so honest that it strikes a cord right down his heart, more heat than the fever can account for rushing to his cheeks. satoru hopes you don’t notice it. all he can do is squeeze your fingers, lightly, not trusting his voice not to break. silence lingers, and you only gaze at him softly. 

”… do you want anything else?” you finally ask, with a tilt of your head. still so eager to assist, racking your brain to come up with anything else to do for him. ”i’ll get it for you, no matter what it is.”

and, truthfully, satoru thinks you’ve done more than enough. more than he could ever make up for. but he’s always been greedy, and there’s one thing, only one thing, one thing he can’t help but ask for. something he craves more than anything. he can’t help but indulge himself, indulge in his selfishness, in the need to feel your skin against his. 

so he stretches his arms out, and looks at you with a distinctly needy glint in his eyes. his fingers move in a grabby motion, almost unconsciously, and he might’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t still so feverish. all he wants is to keep you close, to make the hollowness inside his chest dissipate. you always make that lonely feeling go away.

needless to say, you heed his request. almost instantly, your heart pumping in a steady rhythm, with this visceral desire to keep him close, to protect him. and who are you to resist, when he’s asking you for it himself?

you waste no time crawling beneath the covers, situating yourself right next to your lover. only then do you finally, finally, reach your arms out to pull him close; so close you feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. his cheek meets the softness of your chest, snuggling closer, and you card a hand through his soft locks. his arms reach around your midriff, a perfect puzzle piece, and he releases an audible sigh — deep and satisfied. in his tired, clingy state, he subconsciously throws a leg over yours, trapping you further. 

you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

finally, satoru can fall asleep. with the fever still clouding his senses, and your nimble fingers smoothing along his scalp, the occasional kiss to his head as he listens to your soft heartbeat, he’s drifted off before either of you know it. melting into you, into your warm embrace, cheek squished against your chest. tiny little breaths fall from his lips, and you feel like you’re cradling the whole world in your arms. 

you’re relieved. making yourself comfortable on your back, with satoru sleeping soundly on top of you, hoping he’ll feel better when he wakes up. careful, even with your breathing, intent on letting him sleep. knowing he doesn’t get nearly as much rest as he should, most days. 

before long, even you succumb to the cozy atmosphere, gradually dozing off. satoru is always warm, even more so now, and his weight is comforting.

stifling a yawn, you tug him a little bit closer, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. you could use a day of catching up on lost sleep, too.

when you wake up, you’re acutely aware of something poking your cheek.

it’s a ticklish sensation, sort of irritating, and it rouses you from your cozy slumber. disgruntled, so cruelly ripped away from your sweet dreams — satoru was in it, you think. you feel robbed.

still, you can’t be too mad. not when the real deal is right in front of you, eyes crinkled and full of warmth, a teasing smile on his lips. he’s still snuggled into your chest, all cozy and cute, as you lay on your back, propped up by a myriad of fluffy pillows. he looks up at you adoringly.

”well hello there,” he purrs, shooting a giddy little grin your way. still poking your cheek. ”wakey-wakey, sunshine!”

a series of blinks. you stir a little further, the sleepy haze of your brain beginning to slip off, slowly but surely. it takes a couple of seconds for you to remember why you’re here, what happened before you fell asleep. 

”… hey,” you greet, at last, stifling a yawn and squeezing your eyes shut. stretching lazily, like a sleepy cat. ”how do you feel…?”

”i’m perfect. better than perfect, actually,” satoru chirps, a little cheeky, hoisting himself up so that he’s hovering above you. a hint of mischief in those pretty eyes. ”you’re a good nurse, y’know?”

you huff out a chuckle. as always, his actions reveal more than his words — you could tell he felt a lot better the moment you saw his smile, heard how he formed his words. “alright, that’s good,” you hum, exhaling softly. ”how long was i asleep? what time is it?”

”i woke up just now, too,” satoru lies, albeit a small one. he did wake up recently, only to spend what he thinks must’ve been at least fifteen minutes staring at you until he physically couldn’t take it anymore. he had to hear your voice, see your smile. it’s a personal record for him; usually he spends less time admiring your peaceful expression, far too eager to speak to you.

”it’s pretty late,” he continues, another small lie. pleased with himself. ”way too late for you to go back, actually. how about you spend the night?”

another blink, your eyelids heavy and droopy as they open and close. then you’re reaching for your phone on the nightstand, and checking the time. a smile is quick to bloom on your lips, teasing and bubbly, as you tilt your head to meet his gaze.

”it’s only four, satoru.”

”way, way too late,” he only reaffirms, flopping down on top of you again, keeping you from leaving. ”god knows what kinda creeps are out there at this hour — much too unsafe. i’m just looking out for you, baby.”

”of course,” you indulge him, a sly little roll of your eyes that makes him pout. ”you know i was planning on staying over anyway, right?”

”well, of course! i wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite nurse.”

his eyes betray his words, gleaming with a sudden colour of excitement, all glitter and relief. a joy that clogs up his throat like seafoam, and spills out from his lips. you look down at him, for a second, unable to resist the temptation — reaching for his forehead with the back of your hand. 

it’s significantly less scalding, now. 

you let out a sigh, laced with relief, one you didn’t know you’d been holding in. ”it really has gone down,” you hum, stretching the sleep from your limbs again. “that’s good.”

satoru huffs. ”i said i was perfect, right? don’t you trust me, my sweet lover?”

”i never know with you,” you give him a huff of your own, exasperated. fond. “you said you were just fine this morning, too.”

”i was!” he whines. piling up lie after lie. “i totally could’ve made it to that date, you know. i got worse because you had no faith in my abilities.”

”right. of course.” you shoot him a lopsided grin. ”you just don’t wanna admit the fever beat your ass, huh?”

”see? no faith.” a chuckle slips from your lips, and satoru has to bite back a smile. ”unbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.”

”oh? i thought it was thanks to my top notch nursing skills?”

”well, that too! but it was mostly me.”

a sigh. “whatever you say.” then you’re smiling, once more, unable to help yourself. eyes crinkled at the edges, soft around the corners. ”i’m just glad you’re better. i was worried.”

satoru pouts, again, but you can tell he acknowledges it — your earnest concern. this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths can’t fit. decoding the meaning of it all in silent gestures, glints in your eyes. little truth games.

”you really thought a lil’ fever was gonna be enough to keep me down?” he shakes his head once, then twice. and you know that what he means to say is i never want you to worry. “c’mon, now, baby.”

another lighthearted roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah. my sincerest apologies, my strong, stubborn, totally-not-sick boyfriend.”

”don’t you mean your strong, perfect, beautiful, clever, flawless, totally-not-sick boyfriend?”

”don’t think i didn’t notice you sneaking the stubborn out of there.”

”hehe.”

a silent moment passes, something tender filling up the space between your words. satoru’s weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. you’re so happy that he’s acting insufferable again.

”alright, my honeybee,” he suddenly chirps, breaking the silence, hoisting himself up. ”time to go. we can still get those crêpes if we hurry.”

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

you give him an unimpressed look, gazing up at him, towering over you like he fully thought you’d be alright with letting him leave. ”you’re… not going out today,” you deadpan. “you know that, right?”

this time, he’s the one who blinks. once, then twice.

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

”what?” satoru pretends to be shocked, offended, as if he can’t believe you’d even suggest something so outrageous. ”i’m all better, though!”

you raise an eyebrow, thoroughly displeased. all better? ”your fever isn’t gone, satoru. it’s just not horrible anymore. you’ll get yourself even more sick if you go out now.”

”i won’t! seriously!” he insists, looking down at you with a sorry attempt at puppy dog eyes. ”i feel good enough to run a marathon!”

”you’re not doing that either,” you mutter. then a sigh, exasperated. you can’t let this charade go on for too long. ”come on, satoru — don’t be so stubborn. we can go there another time.”

”but —”

”besides, didn’t you say i have to spend the night because it’s too late to go outside? remember the creeps?” there’s amusement in your voice, a light smile on your lips. ”what if they get us?”

”well, they obviously won’t get you while i’m there,” he huffs. ”what, you don’t think i can protect you properly? you’re hurting me, angel.”

you bite back an incredulous laugh. god, he’s stubborn. you’re so in love with him you just barely restrain the urge to pull him in for a kiss.

”sa-to-ru,” you coo, dragging each syllable out, sending a shiver down his spine. ”we’re not going outside. end of discussion.”

”why not, though?” he continues to pout, still refusing to give in. resorting to cheap guilt-tripping. ”don’t you wanna go on a date with me? you don’t want to see me happy, is that it?”

you only sigh, thoroughly exasperated, reaching up to cup his cheek nonetheless. he nuzzles into it. ”you’re such a baby.”

”your baby.”

another sigh, to mask your adoration. at this rate, the back and forth will never end, so you scramble for solutions.

“can’t we just have our date here?” you suggest, after some contemplation. ”i bought some ice cream on my way here. we could watch a movie, or something. isn’t that enough?”

satoru’s eyes bore into yours. contemplative, as he lets the silence linger, gears turning inside his mind. he wants to go outside with you, wants to hold your hand and hear you hum happily as you bite into your crêpe; wants to steal a bite when you’re not looking.

but it is a tempting offer. you could eat ice cream, and binge a bunch of movies, and he could rest his head in your lap. coax you into playing with his hair.

(he’s maybe, just maybe, a little bit tired, too.)

so, finally, he sighs — softly. in resignation. 

”… well, i guess that’s fine,” he pouts, allowing himself to fall back into your embrace. his voice is muffled, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. ”i wanted crêpes, though…”

”i’ll get you your crepes,” you assure him, relieved to have reached a compromise. ”i can go buy ’em myself and come back. then we —”

”no, no, no!” satoru suddenly interjects. whining, tugging you closer. ”you’re not going anywhere. not without me!”

a sigh, just as adoring as it is fatigued. ”then i’ll… order crêpes, or something. or we’ll eat ice cream today and then crêpes when you’re better. does that sound okay?”

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!” 

you give him a look, a silent what now? that has him smiling. shuffling a little, in your embrace, planting his jaw on top of your chest and gazing up at you with a grin. ”instead of the crêpes, i want a kiss.”

you blink. exasperated, as an amused chuckle follows. ”so convoluted. you can just ask, you know?” you don’t give him time to answer, eager to appease the pouty man. ”whatever.” 

leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. sweet and soft. to your surprise, he’s still pouting when you pull away. ”i meant on the lips,” he explains, as if it was obvious. 

a tilt of your head. 

”… but you’re sick.”

”so?” satoru just pouts, expression practically etched into his face at this point. ”you won’t kiss me anymore? just cause i’ve got a tiny, miniscule fever?” he huffs, turning his head to the right and shutting his eyes. ”if you don’t love me anymore, you can just say that.”

another sigh leaves your lips. he’s so ridiculous. you can’t really deny him, though.

”… fine. it’s your fault if i get sick, though.”

in the blink of an eye, he’s perked right back up. wagging his non-existent tail, closing his eyes and waiting for you to try again. silly.

but you relent. his lips are only slightly warmer than usual, and you choose to see it as the good sign it is, proof that his fever truly is starting to dissipate. you feel satoru relax, melting into the kiss, but before it can drag out too long you’ve pulled away. ”— there. happy now?” 

”for now,” he quips, equally teasing. he’s cute, though. a little kiss or two is a small price to pay for the spark of joy in his iris, even if it ends with you sick on your deathbed in a couple of days. 

”that’ll do,” you grin, hoisting yourself up with your elbows, carrying satoru with you, his jaw still on your chest. ”wanna go eat some ice cream, mr unreasonable?”

you don’t really need an answer. of course satoru wants ice cream. you’ve never seen him turn down anything sweet — and, lo and behold, he perks up again, getting into a sitting position. like an excited puppy. 

”got it,” you chuckle, stopping to think for a moment. “there’s soup left, too. but maybe you’d rather order something? it turned out kinda so-so.”

satoru gapes. ”you kidding? that was the best soup i’ve ever had!” 

his exclamation makes you roll your eyes, words so coated in confidence that you almost want to believe him. ”satoru. you don’t have to lie.”

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

”i could, i could!” he stubbornly whines. ”i tasted all your love. every single drop!”

you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff, trying to appear unbothered. ”yeah? and how did my love taste?”

satoru leans forward. it’s sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. he’s wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot.

”delicious,” he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. ”best thing i’ve ever had.”

you know he’s just trying to fluster you, so you try to fight against it, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as you’d like — crumbling under his gaze, averting your own with a quiet huff. and he lets you off the hook, satisfied with your embarrassed expression. pulling back slightly, letting you breathe. 

as swiftly as you can, you regain your composure. clearing your throat. ”well, you can have more of it later, then,” you make a move to get off the bed. ”let’s go eat ice cream.”

after being caged in by satoru for so long, your limbs are a little stiff, caught under the weight of his boundless love. when your feet hit the soft flooring, you stretch them out, watching satoru follow your lead. still clad in that sweaty shirt.

”you should probably get a change of clothes,” you suggest, exhaling as your muscles loosen up. ”you’ve been wearing that shirt all day.”

”oh? is that an excuse to see me out of it, sweetheart?” satoru grins, fresh mischief gleaming in his eyes. ”you know you can always just ask.” 

you huff out a sardonic breath. ”yeah, yeah, whatever. throw on a hoodie or something, weirdo.” you stifle a giggle when he makes an offended noise behind you. “and some pants.”

”you don’t like the underwear?” he looks towards the corner of the room, studying himself in the mirror. “this is an expensive brand, you know?”

”you’re the only person on planet earth who’d give a fuck about underwear brands,” you scoff, a little snarky. ”just — put some comfortable clothes on, okay? i’ll go get the ice cream ready.”

”wait!” he exclaims, attaching himself to you, curling his arms around your bicep. “you’re not allowed to go anywhere without me, remember?” 

“… okay, okay. hurry up and get changed, then.”

sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone — refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. but you’re not falling for it this time. 

when he’s done, he’s wearing a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants. it’s a good look on him, casual and cozy. awfully cute. he wastes no time in attaching himself to you, again, an arm linked with yours as you travel to the kitchen; grabbing the pints of ice cream from the freezer, a couple snack bags from the drawers, before plopping down on the couch.

satoru maneuvers you into his lap, and you don’t put up a fight, leaning into him as your back meets his chest. he keeps you locked in place, arms around your waist, planting his jaw on the top of your head. and he relaxes, comforted by your smaller body pressed up against his. holding you so close satisfies a certain protective itch in his brain, never failing to calm him down. a safe haven, of sorts.

you watch the movie and eat the snacks, chattering away, letting the silence linger every now and then. after a while, satoru gets a slight headache, resting his head in your lap and whining for you to soothe him. you do so without any teasing; you’re much too soft for him. and he’s still sick, even if he’s doing better. you couldn’t resist him even if you tried.

so you opt to indulge him.

”baby, i think my fever’s going up again…” satoru pouts, gazing up at you through fluttering lashes. ”can you check?”

you smile, with a raise of your eyebrow. ”this is the fifth time you’ve asked me to check your temperature, toru.”

”just wanna make sure,” he whines. “please?”

with an exaggerated sigh, you lean down, lips once again meeting his forehead — humming against his skin. nope, his temperature hasn’t gone up. just like it hadn’t gone up the last time you checked, or the time before that.

”you’re good.”

”oh, thank god,” he exhales. ”are you sure? like, a hundred percent sure? maybe you should check again. just in case.”

”satoru,” you coo, a teasing lilt on the tip of your tongue. ”you can just ask me if you want a kiss.”

”a kiss? scandalous. i just wanna make sure my condition doesn’t worsen.”

he’s grinning, and you’re rolling your eyes, and both of you know damn well you’re going to indulge him anyway. he sighs in satisfaction when he feels your soft lips on his heated skin.

”hmm…” you narrow your eyes, thoughtfully, before looking down at him with a teasing smile. ”nope. definitely still the same temperature.” 

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

”hmm. okay, got it.” he rolls over, burying his face in your stomach. wrapping his limbs around your midriff. “that’s good. just wanted to check, you know?”

”of course.”

”might need you to check again soon. just to be safe,” he chirps, biting back a soft grin. you don’t bother hiding yours.

”got it, got it,” you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair. “anything for my sick baby.” 

satoru releases a soft breath, bordering on a giggle. you can’t help but let your smile grow wider, heart brimming with affection. you let it clog up your chest until the movie’s almost over, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore.

”your room is very like you.”

it’s sudden, breaking the peaceful silence, making satoru stir. you’re both starting to get sleepy again. but he blinks up at you, studying your expression before parting his lips.

”… oh? how so?”

“well…” you stop to think. humming, absently fidgeting with a lock of your boyfriend’s hair. ”when i first walked in, i thought the whole house felt kind of empty, you know?”

satoru hums. unsure of where the conversation is going, maybe just a little intrigued. he mostly just likes listening to you talk. 

”but then i went into your room, and — it just felt very you. kinda messy, and stuff, but cozy. and a little sentimental.” satoru looks up at you, admiring that certain soft glimmer in your eyes. you meet his stare with a smile. ”maybe it doesn’t make sense? i guess i’ve just been thinking about it.”

he closes his eyes.

there’s something soft in your tone, something silky and simple, and he can tell you’re being sincere. it’s something he likes about you — that willingness to be soft, almost pridefully so, to bare yourself even if you aren’t sure that he’ll return the favour. he likes to think it’s rubbing off on him, slowly but surely; he doesn’t think he’s quite as bad as before. telling you about things that are dear to him isn’t something that scares him, anymore. and even when you see him vulnerable, sick and delirious in bed, he isn’t afraid that you’ll use it against him.

you’re a comfort; his safe haven. a place to rest his weary head. maybe you always have been, even before he really got to know you.

”i like your place more,” he finally admits, lighthearted in its weight. your gaze flits down, but his is still lingering on the tv, not really paying attention to it. ”it feels very… you.”

a smile crawls up to rest against your lips. playing along, your hands finding solace in between his fluffy locks. ”how so?”

and satoru smiles. eyes sparkling with something mellow, like a soda pop cracked open on a boiling summer day. he shifts a little, just to gaze up at you again. ”it’s… homely. warm,” his smile only grows. “and awfully sentimental.”

he lifts a hand up, to touch your cheek. tender, as his thumb smooths against your skin. it’s warm, beneath his touch, heating up with every word he speaks. satoru’s love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders — you think you’d be happy to lie in the ashes. he’s smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light. and he exhales.

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

the expression on his face is a lovely one. you take a moment to simply bask in it, desperate to etch it into your memory. you don’t think you could forget it even if you tried. how fondly the light of the room embraces him, that soft grin he’s shooting your way, only vaguely teasing. and his eyes, the gateways to his soul, so sincere you can’t look away.

you love this man with your whole chest. you knew before, you’ve known for a long time, but each day you fall in love all over again. it’s all you can think as you look at him, all snug and safe and happy in your lap.

you don’t realize you’ve been staring at him silently until he chuckles, pulling you out of your sentimental stupor. it only flusters you further.

”you’re cute,” satoru croons, still cradling your cheek. tender, soft fingertips against your heated skin. all you manage is a meek little furrow of your brows, but that only makes him chuckle again.

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

you can’t look at him, when you say it. the words are barely above a whisper, and you aren’t sure if they’re conscious or not. it’d be nice to say they just slipped out, but they feel somewhat deliberate, all the same. you know you mean them, either way. it’s the one thing you’re sure of.

this time, satoru is the one who can do nothing but stare, his expression unreadable. you try not to let your gaze wander to his face, his eyes; but through the peripheral of your vision, you feel like you catch a particular kind of sadness reflected in them. or maybe it’s something closer to yearning, longing. something like that.

”… well,” he finally hums, voice so low you barely pick up on it. ”maybe i will, then.”

you reach something. 

you catch a glimpse of it, at least, for just a second or two. something warm and bare, something simple and incomprehensible at the same time. an emotion so strong it leaves you reeling, yet still so light. it’s there and then it isn’t, just out of reach, and you think that if you could only find the courage to curl your fingers around his, then —

a laugh track plays from the tv, snapping you both out of your thoughts.

(the moment passes before you can fully understand it, fully comprehend it. maybe some part of you already has.)

…

satoru chuckles, reaching for another ball of mochi and popping it into his mouth. ”this movie’s awful, huh?”

”yeah,” you’re quick to agree, maybe a little too quick. grinning weakly. ”it’s good in a so bad it’s good kinda way, though.”

he hums in absentminded agreement, still chewing on the soft treat. keeping his gaze steady on the screen, the flicker of emotional scenes he hasn’t been keeping track of, barely resisting the urge to look up at you again. but his heart already feels a little too mushy for his liking — he’s not sure he could take it.

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

his immune system is strong, there’s no denying that. but more than anything, he simply can’t afford to be sick. there are people who need him, people who depend on him, and the idea of being in such a defenseless state — stuck in bed while the world continues to spin, unattended — makes him feel so anxious he could throw up. even sleeping makes him feel a little skittish, sometimes, though he’s gotten a lot better since he started falling asleep with you in his arms.

it’s funny, he thinks. before you, being sick wasn’t something that really existed in his world. if he felt a little under the weather he would simply puff out his chest and down a painkiller or two, waving it off with a flick of his wrist; no biggie, really. he’s satoru gojo, after all, and the world needs his eyes on it.

but then you came along. you came to his rescue, spring in your pockets, and you took care of him, with what he knows to be love. genuine, earnest concern for his wellbeing. his happiness.

yeah — it’s funny, for sure. satoru never thought he’d ever enjoy being sick. 

yet here he is, head in your lap, feeling you run your fingers through his hair. kissing his forehead whenever he whines, indulging his little convoluted ploys. bringing him soup, when he gets hungry again, soup you made yourself. he wasn’t kidding when he said he tasted your love through it; it was all he could taste, with his numbed out senses, all he could feel.

you’re so good to him. there’s nothing he would trade for these moments with you, absolutely nothing. he’s glad you came over, after all. glad you’re so stubborn, and oh so caring. satoru can’t help but smile, heart almost stuffed to the brim with gratitude — what could he possibly do with this immense love in his chest?

”i love you so much,” he blurts out, practically beaming. now you’re in his lap, again, and he takes the opportunity to smear openmouthed kisses against your neck. delighting in the little squeak you try to muffle.

”where did that come from?” you blink, squirming a little in his embrace. a movie is still playing on the tv screen, one better than the last — your attention was fixed on it before satoru broke the silence.

”just felt like saying it!” he only chirps, grinning ear to ear. ”i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmurs, earnestly, lips against your skin. ”my whole world.”

for a moment, you wonder if the fever is making him delirious. then again, this is pretty standard for satoru; always eager to fluster you, to shower you with love until you’re pushing him away. it’s overwhelming, but you’ve never minded. this is how you measure his love — little gaps between too much and never enough.

”… you’re not gonna say it back?” comes a whine, right by your ear. now he’s nibbling at your neck, little beast that he is, pouting because you let the silence linger for too long. he’s being such a baby about it. but you still rush to reassure him, echoing his words in earnest. 

”i love you too, satoru,” you smile, slightly exasperated. craning your neck so that your lips can meet his jaw, and satoru grins, giddy at the attention. ”my whole universe.”

satoru lets out a happy little noise, almost a giggle, sleepy and pleased. his arms squeeze you just a little tighter, like you could never be close enough, even when he’s got you in his lap like this. if he could, he’d keep you there all the time. attached at the hip, close as can be. 

even with a ruined date, even after worrying you, he feels well and truly satisfied. because you're here, and you’re watching a good movie, and you’re gonna stay over tonight. when it gets dark out, he’ll get to fall asleep cuddled up beside you, hold you in his arms and feel you nuzzle into his chest. then he’ll pepper your face with kisses to wake you up, and you’ll grumble all sweetly, and he’ll carry you to the kitchen despite your grumpy protests. you’ll eat breakfast together, chatting and enjoying the way the sunlight flickers around the room like a happy cat. maybe he can even make you breakfast himself, to thank you for today. 

if the fever’s gone by then, you’ll probably let him outside. then you can go get those crêpes, and maybe go to a park, or to the movie theatre, or a fun arcade, before heading back to your apartment to relax. and then he’ll stay over. the day after, too. and the day after that.

living together with you wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks. it wouldn’t be bad at all, actually. 

the thought has been on his mind for a while, now. getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life… satoru can’t think of anything he’d like more. maybe he’ll start hinting at it, slowly but surely. if he can lure you into broaching the subject, that would be ideal — but if he has to, he doesn’t mind doing it himself. you’re worth the emotional toll.

you curl into your boyfriend a little further, his jaw now resting cheekily on the top of your head, large palms underneath your shirt and rubbing circles into your bare skin. you have no idea what he’s thinking, no idea about his plans, and he thinks that’s for the best. he knows you’ll indulge him, at the end of the day.

maybe he’ll just ask you, tomorrow. if you say no, he can just blame it on the fever making him delirious.

[wayward-dreamer]

Couldn't Resist

Square/s Filled: Car sex @spnaubingo

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader

Word count: 915

Summary: Y/N can't resist Dean when he's wearing a suit.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut: dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), car sex, public sex

A/N: Just felt like writing something short, hope you all like it! Happy reading :)

“God, we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“You’re the one who jumped me, sweetheart-”

Dean’s words were interrupted as Y/N’s lips molded to his, the kiss passionate and rough, matching the frenzy of her hands unbuttoning the top of his white shirt, knowing they didn’t have the time or the space to undress completely but she still needed to feel him. They were on a case, both of them talking to witnesses while Sam was doing research back at the motel, and well… when she saw Dean in his FBI suit she really couldn’t resist any longer than she already had since that morning. So on the drive back to the motel, she told him to pull into an alleyway next to a strip mall, climbing into his lap just as he turned off the engine to the car. It was broad daylight, there were side exits to the stores so anyone could walk out and see them, but she really couldn’t give a fuck in that moment. With her boyfriend’s hard cock pressing against her wet panties, the only thing she cared about was freeing him from the confines of his dress pants as much as she could, and getting him inside her immediately.

“What did you tell Sam?” she asked, breathlessly as his lips moved down her neck.

“Baby needed fuel,” he replied between kisses along her neck.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder to see a man walk past the alley, too distracted by his phone. Anyone walking past could easily look down the length of the lane and see them through the windshield.

“We should hurry,” she muttered, reaching for his belt.

Dean smirked as his palms slid up her thighs and over the curve of her ass, her black skirt bunched up around her waist, her own white shirt open down to her stomach with her white lace bra exposed to him, and hopefully only him. He pulled her panties aside just as she undid his pants, wrapping her hand around his incredible girth as she lifted herself up, slightly. There wasn’t any time to waste, so she didn’t, sinking down on him and letting out a rough gasp as his shaft stretched her walls, completely sheathed by them. He held onto her hips and helped her rock against him, her hands clenching his shirt tight as she threw her back, moaning loudly at the feel of his cock pumping in and out of her tight heat.

“Fuck, this is the best idea you’ve ever had, babe,” he groaned, his neck straining, veins pressed against his skin as he laid his head back against the top of the seat. “You look so fucking good like this, love it when my good girl gets so deseprate for me.”

She moaned wantonly as she continued to ride him, his hands pulling her hips down hard and fast, just the way she liked it. The head of his shaft was pressing against her g-spot with every thrust, her walls gripping him tight every time and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on for too long. Which was probably a good thing because of where they were. Quickies in the Impala were few and far between considering they were always with Sam, so whenever they found some time alone, they had to take it.

“Oh fuck, oh god, Dean,” she whimpered, dropping her back down and staring deep into his green orbs. “Love the way you feel, love feeling your cock inside me…”

“Shit,” he hissed, his lips pulling into a grin as he watched her. “So perfect, look so good riding my cock, sweetheart. You close?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, taking his hand and bringing it between her legs.

Y/N bounced faster on Dean’s lap just as his fingers circled her swollen nub, sounds of pleasure leaving both of them as they chased that blissful release. Her head tipped back as her hand pressed into the top of the car for leverage, her moans growing louder as her hips faltered, and he knew how close she was. With one last moan from both of them, her core tightened, her walls clenching around his throbbing cock, wetness covered him just as spurts of his seed spilled inside her. They both tried catching their breath as they came down from the high, a soft giggle escaping her as her eyes met his.

“Fuck, that was awesome,” he smirked, pulling her down for a searing kiss.

She hummed against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pushed herself closer to him. They were lost in the moment until she briefly opened her eyes, her peripheral view catching someone opening the back door to one of the stores. She ripped her mouth away from Dean’s, leaving him stunned in his seat as she climbed off his lap.

“Someone’s there,” she huffed, quickly fixing her clothes.

That launched him into action as well, making sure he was decent before starting the car, the engine roaring to life. He drove forward, looking through the rearview mirror and grinning as he saw the confused store owner watching them leave. As he pulled out onto the main road, they looked at each other, both of them erupting into laughter. He took her hand in his and brought to his lips, planting a soft kiss to her knuckles as they made their way back to the motel.

His girl was full of surprises and he loved it.

[lecsainz]

SUNSET

pairings: charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader

request: Hello bae! I absolutely adore your writing, could you maybe write something about charles being turned on by your sundress and maybe it leads to smut? Thank you!!🩷

authors note: [ something cool again ]

warnings: (+18) smut, minors dni!

☆. . . masterlist !

Y/N loved summers, especially when her boyfriend was on a break from Formula 1. It was one of the rare times in the year when they spent 24/7 together for weeks. She cherished those moments.

Charles had asked Y/N to get ready because he wanted to show her a new place in Monaco, one he had discovered while running with Andrea. Y/N walked into the living room, where Charles was standing, his concentration solely focused on his iPhone with the cracked back.

"Don't you think it's time to replace that phone?" she asked playfully.

"Oh my God!" Charles muttered under his breath, his attention suddenly torn away from his phone as he saw Y/N in a summer dress that hugged every curve of her body.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked, a playful smile on her lips. She took a spin, showing off the dress to him.

Continues with Charles being flustered by her appearance, but Y/N's tone was light-hearted and teasing. She knew exactly how to play him.

"Maybe a little too much," Charles replied, his voice slightly strained as he tore his gaze away from her. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "You look incredible."

Y/N chuckled, enjoying the effect she had on him. "Well, if you can manage to tear your eyes away from your phone for a few minutes, maybe I can show you the dress properly."

Charles finally looked up, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Right, sorry. You just... caught me off guard."

Y/N walked over to him, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jaw. "You know, I've missed having you all to myself like this."

He nodded, his eyes softening as he gazed at her. "Me too. It's been way too long."

Without thinking, Charles pulled her into his lap, his arms encircling her waist. Y/N laughed, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"We should probably get going," she said, her voice a mix of reluctance and amusement.

Charles rested his forehead against hers, his warm breath fanning over her lips. "You're right, we should," he agreed, his tone a little too casual.

Y/N chuckled, realizing where he was heading. "Don't even think about it, Leclerc. We have plans, remember?"

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he grinned. Instead of getting up, he gently shifted her weight, lowering her onto the couch and hovering above her.

"Plans can wait," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers in a feather-light kiss.

She tried to suppress a laugh, her hands resting against his chest. "Charles, we can't just stay here all day."

He nuzzled her neck, his lips pressing soft kisses along her skin. "Who said anything about all day? Maybe just until sunset."

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her resistance fading as he continued to trail kisses across her collarbone. "You're impossible."

Charles looked up, his eyes locking onto hers with a playful spark. "But you love me."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile was undeniable. "Fine, we can stay here for a little while."

"Good," he murmured, his lips finding hers again, this time with more urgency.

As they continued to kiss, the world outside their apartment seemed to disappear, leaving only the sensation of his touch and the sound of their breaths mingling in the air.

Charles's hands moved along the curves of her body, his touch igniting a fire within her. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as their kisses deepened, a silent understanding passing between them.

The soft cushions of the sofa seemed to mold around them, offering both comfort and support as their bodies pressed closer together. His fingers traced the edges of her sundress, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

Breaking the kiss, Charles's lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, trailing a path of heated kisses along her collarbone. Y/N's breath hitched, her nails lightly grazing his back as a quiet moan escaped her lips.

"Charles," she whispered, her voice a mixture of need and desire. His name on her lips only fueled his hunger, and he responded by deepening his kisses, his lips now exploring the contours of her chest.

As their passions grew, Charles's urgency became more apparent. His fingers deftly worked at the fabric of her sundress, a silent plea for permission in his eyes. Y/N met his gaze, her own desire mirrored in her eyes. With a nod, she gave him the consent he sought.

The fabric of her dress yielded to his touch, the sound of tearing fabric mingling with their heavy breaths. Charles's lips moved lower, his kisses leaving a trail of fire along her skin. Each touch, each caress, sent shivers of pleasure through her body.

Their bodies shifted, and Charles positioned himself between her legs, his eyes locked onto hers as he continued his exploration. His fingers traced maddening patterns along her inner thighs, making her gasp with anticipation.

"Oh lord," she moaned, her fingers threading through his hair. Her body arched against his touch, aching for more.

He responded by pressing a searing kiss against her most sensitive spot, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her lips. Charles's movements were skilled, his touch driving her closer to the edge.

Y/N's fingers tightened in his hair, her moans growing louder as waves of ecstasy washed over her. Charles's name was a mantra on her lips, a prayer and a plea all at once.

And as they reached the pinnacle of their desire, their bodies moved in perfect harmony, a symphony of pleasure and need. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them entangled in a moment of pure intimacy.

Afterward, as they lay entwined on the sofa, their breathing slowly returning to normal, Charles pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest as they basked in the aftermath of their intense encounter.

Charles pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against Y/N's. "See? Sunset," he whispered, a triumphant grin on his lips.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

He shrugged, his gaze tender as he looked at her. "I just know what I want, and right now, it's you."

Y/N chuckled softly, nuzzling against him. "You certainly have a way with persuasion."

He grinned, his arms wrapped around her. "Well, I believe actions speak louder than words."

With a contented sigh, Y/N nodded, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "I can't argue with that."

With a contented smile, Y/N let herself be pulled into another kiss, the world outside their apartment fading away as they enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together.

[talesofadragon]

𝟓𝟎 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

Summary: In a twist of fate, the seemingly heartless and enigmatic Draco Malfoy found himself falling deeply in love. His affection for Y/N knew no bounds, but he couldn't resist the temptation to test her patience. However, when he succumbs to the advances of a particular Slytherin girl, he soon realizes that he may have gotten more than he bargained for.

Warnings: Sexual themes. Minors DNI.

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Genre: Fluff | Smut  

Word count: 2.1K

All Masterlists | Draco Malfoy Masterlist

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰. Unapologetically and effortlessly, those people embrace the lackluster, emanating an aura that brings the moons and the stars of the universe to their knees. 

Draco Malfoy fell into that category. 

In the middle of the raging lights and the tumultuous fray, he sat back in the dark corner of the Slytherin Common Room, leisurely sipping a glass of Firewhiskey. At first glance, he was imposing. Veiny fingers, undoubtedly dexterous in their deathly ministrations. A chiseled jaw that commanded obedience from every man. And eyes that, although we’re mesmerizing pools of silver, held a hint of acidic intensity with every gaze.

Draco Malfoy was thought to be darkness in human form. Perhaps several individuals would concur, whether out of fascination or apprehension. But that was because none of them saw him through my eyes. 

In his nights, I saw the moon. In his shades of obsidian, I found depths unknown. In his prowess, I sought the nightjar, whose darkened plumage painted my soul with a mesmerizing array of vibrant hues.

And I despised, abhorred, anyone who dared to try and get close enough to bask in his glow.

“Y/N, sometimes I regret ever introducing you to Draco,” Clarissa remarked. I shot her an unimpressed glance. She continued dancing without missing a beat, leaving me the only one standing idle in the middle of a crowded room. “You have that devilish look in your eyes.” 

“Well, the she-devil has her eyes, and hands, all over him.” 

Clarissa's lips twitched, forming an amused grin. Her gaze shifted towards the girl with dark hair and an extremely form-fitting dress, which left little to the imagination, who shamelessly ran her hand along my boyfriend's arm.

“He’s not even looking at her.” 

“He’s letting her touch him!” 

“He’s not.” She rolled her eyes, brushing off the comment. One of her hands took mine, urging me to dance to the upbeat tone of the music that engulfed us. “He’s looking at you and is most likely enjoying getting under your skin.” 

“He’s being a dick,” I groaned in frustration. Clarissa was giving me her “well duh” expression. 

“He’s Draco. If you ask about him, you’ll have a porn site worth of dick picks and stories that perfectly describe your aggravating boyfriend.” 

I arched an eyebrow, subconsciously convincing myself that it was a common behavior and not something unique to Draco. “Remind me again what his relationship to your boyfriend is. Oh, that’s right, he’s his brother.” 

“Atlas is a sweetheart! Sometimes, I sincerely think he was adopted,” she argued. 

“Clearly not,” I countered. I nudged my head toward the table, catching sight of the girl in the navy dress leaning her body closer to my boyfriend’s chest. “If he’s licking his lips at the sight of that girl’s cleavage.” 

Clarissa whipped her head at the speed of light. I was surprised her neck didn’t snap. Her rage immediately molded into distaste when she noticed that Atlas wasn’t licking his lips as I said, but he was straining his neck, attempting to look away from the boob job that was begging for attention. 

“She’s a bitch.” 

“As am I,” I replied swiftly. Clarissa frowned, glancing back at me. By that time, the sound of my heels clicking against the marble floor had already begun, even though the music drowned out their noise.

Draco seemed impervious to the blaring musical notes as his silver eyes locked onto mine, capturing my movement. He had the audacity to smirk against the rim of his glass, going as far as to open the palm of his hand, indulging in the girl’s ministrations. 

Atlas, seated on the same couch as his brother but a few feet away, wore a bemused expression. He bit his lip, gaze wandering between me and Clarissa, who was trailing after me. 

As I crossed the two steps that separated me from my boyfriend, the harsh clicking of my heels echoed through the room. The blush on my cheeks seemed to mirror the hue of my dress, drawing attention toward me. Perfect, I inwardly mused, locking eyes with Draco. He observed my every move with his now grey irises, resembling a tempestuous landscape anticipating the thunder to unleash its chaos.

Confident and without a hint of hesitation, I made my way to his table, disregarding the curious onlookers, the girl with longing eyes, and even our friends. Choosing to ignore them all, I straddled his lap, allowing our lips to collide.

He must have expected my harshness or maybe my fire, but it was clear that he hadn’t anticipated my dominance. Draco Malfoy faltered, proved by the sound of the glass shattering on the floor and the shrieks of the nameless woman beside us. 

One of his hands fisted the fabric of my dress, clinging to the small of my back, while the other slithered into my hair. My hands, on the other hand, assaulted his neck. One wrapped itself around it while the other trekked down his collarbone, swiftly uncaging the second button of his shirt. 

As expected, Draco tried to dominate the kiss, attempting to force my tongue into submission. And while on a regular day, when my body was electrified by the dominance of his touch and my consciousness succumbed to the pressure of his pleasuring body, I would have relented. Today was anything but a regular one. 

I pushed past the overwhelming ecstasy that clouded my racing thoughts, attempting to transform them into incoherent murmurs, and assaulted Draco’s tongue. His hands began to trail my body, the one in my hair errantly moving towards my own neck. 

Immediately, I tightened my hold around his neck, restricting him further from the air we both so desperately craved. He gasped, hands falling to my waist and clutching me tighter. I teased him, bringing my lips close to his, allowing him to steal the breath coming out of my own mouth and greedily take it for himself. 

It lasted no more than two seconds because I knew this was a punishment and not a reward. I dove in again. Tongue-first, exploring the walls and ceiling of his mouth. Draco couldn’t keep his own tongue at bay, and I didn’t want him to. Before he could coax me into accepting his sensual offer, I let go of his lower lip and sucked on his tongue. 

Draco moaned. A sound that was both undiluted and unrestrained; I was sure he had forgotten where he was. His hips jolted, searching for friction. And when I didn’t grant it willingly, his hand found my thighs and hoisted me up until I was shamelessly grinding on him. 

“Moan for me,” he commanded huskily, voice breaking at the seams from being a captive of pleasure. 

I didn’t just want to moan. I wanted to roar from the way his crotch caressed my clothed pussy, squeezing the juices out of me and letting them trail down my thighs. 

But I didn’t. “Moan for me,” I rebuked, letting my fingers cradle the nape of his neck, pulling on his silver locks. Another moan rippled through the air, reaching my clit. And I knew if I didn’t stop any time soon, I would be the one moaning and begging on this very couch. “Good boy.” 

Draco’s eyes widened at the remark, his sharp eyes piercing mine. Immediately, I let go of him, standing up.

I dusted my dress, adjusting the neckline which almost exposed my breasts completely. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” I commented with feigned innocence. This particular area only had a handful of students huddled around, and the one closest to us was a mere few feet away. The girl beside my boyfriend, Pansy Parkinson, didn't need an education to understand that I was directing my words at her.

Her jaw ticked, breath coming out ragged—maybe she was having a sex marathon in her head, getting off on the thought of my boyfriend and me. “I wish I hadn’t seen you at all,” she conceded, hastily scurrying away.

As she left, I saw Clarissa standing behind me. A shadow of confusion crossed over her features, quickly replaced by amusement. “Well, now that she’s gone. Why don’t we give Draco a few minutes to hide that bulge he’s sporting? Atlas, wanna dance?” 

“After what just happened, I won't let any chance slip away to have you close to me, Clares.” He wasted no time getting up. He side-eyed his brother for a moment, unable to hide his smirk. “Here.” Atlas reached out for his Elf Wine, extending it to Draco. “You look flushed. Why don’t you cool off a bit like a good boy?” 

Ignoring our collective laughter, Draco swatted the glass away from his face. He regarded me with an air of irritation, his pupils heavily dilated. 

“Remember when I warned you that it’s much harder for men to mask their wants? Bet you wish you were less of a dick now,” I taunted, earning myself a loud cheer from Atlas and an uproarious laugh from Clarissa. 

Draco had yet to say anything, and I knew he was meticulously considering the retributions he would inflict upon me for this audacious move. But I didn’t care. With a skip in my step, I turned around and strutted away. But before I could make my grand escape, a hand firmly wrapped around my wrist, halting my movements. In the blink of an eye, I was flung onto the couch, landing right where my boyfriend had been sitting just seconds before.

“Draco!” Atlas chastised. He was already taking a step forward, visibly astounded by his brother’s brisk action. Even Clarissa was worried. 

But I wasn’t. 

Draco didn’t spare either of them a glance as he let his gaze fall onto mine. The pools of silver were sizzling, menacing, and fierce—ready to consume me whole. But they were also lustrous, encasing ardent desire. And I found myself getting far more aroused than afraid by the visceral passion they exuded. 

Draco took three meaningful steps toward me, his agile strides reminding me that I was the prey to his snake. He stopped at a short distance, letting one of his hands extend to the back of the couch while the other casually reached for an abandoned shot on our table. 

“Open that sinful mouth of yours, Y/N.” I obeyed. Because if I didn’t, I would self-combust. Screw whatever punishment the devil has for me. I would take it without another word if it meant relieving some of that desire between my legs. “Good girl. Take it all, but don’t you dare swallow yet,” Draco demanded as he filled my mouth with the electrifying drink. 

My eyes welled up, stinging from the searing pain that consumed my mouth and pierced my heart, yet I resisted the urge to close them. Draco disregarded the empty shot glass and tenderly stroked my cheek with his free hand. The weight of the onlookers' gazes bore down on us, but I felt a profound sense of gratitude that the Malfoys were influential and esteemed enough that no one would dare intervene in what they were witnessing.

I squeaked when Draco took my cheek between his fingers and forced the burning drink outside of my mouth. I could feel my heart shuddering as the liquid trailed down my neck to my chest and the valley of my breasts. 

I couldn’t stop staring at Draco while desperately clenching my thighs. Of course, he was too engrossed with the trek the alcohol was taking down my body. 

“Draco,” I whined, practically begging for his touch. The bastard smirked, ever so slowly coming closer. 

“Starshine,” he breathed against my breasts. Immediately, his hand sneaked down, reaching for my thighs. His fingers dug deep into my skin. I moaned, then I cried out in pleasure when his tongue darted out of his mouth, tracing the remains of the alcohol all the way from my chest to my mouth. He hovered over my lips, his silent exhale caressing my mouth. “If I were any less of a dick, I’m sure you’d still cry out for me.”

He pushed himself off my body, the sheer abruptness of his actions causing me to wince. “Wh—”

“Go dance, Y/N,” he said. No, he dared. It was obvious what he was doing. Bold and bright in the middle of the night. He knew I needed him, craved him. And he reveled in the thought. 

So, I did what any sane woman would do. I straightened my hair, fixed my clothes, and rushed to his arms. “I wanna dance with you,” I whispered against his lips. He met mine in a sensual dance, and before I knew it, he was already leading me out of the Common Room and into his arms.

Draco Taglist:

@imabee-oralizard @ameliaphoenix @arcana-greenleaf @dittos-blog-dylanobrien

So this happened unexpectedly. Slightly inspired by that one scene from Culpa Mia (My Fault). Hope y’all like it.💚

[traldemic6]

Tempting the Freshman, Part I

Chapter 1: The Heat of August

Coach Thompson eyed the new recruits with a mix of anticipation and a sly, dark hunger. The sun was high in the sky, casting its warm glow over the football field as the team practiced tirelessly, sweat trickling down their young, muscular bodies. One boy, in particular, caught the coach's attention - a strikingly attractive freshman named Jake. His golden hair gleamed under the sunlight, and his crystal blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of naivety and boundless enthusiasm.

"Great work, boys!" Coach Thompson bellowed, his voice deep and commanding, unable to keep his eyes off Jake. "Keep up that pace, and we'll have a hell of a season!"

Jake's flushed cheeks glowed, as if the mere sound of the coach's voice was enough to stoke the fires within him. "Thanks, Coach!" he panted, his voice breathy and eager. "I'll do my best!"

As the season progressed, Coach Thompson found himself increasingly drawn to the young athlete, unable to resist his magnetic pull. He began spending more time with Jake, offering him extra training sessions and showering him with compliments.

"You're a natural, Jake. I've never seen a freshman with such raw talent," he said one evening, his voice dripping with desire as they stood alone on the field after practice. The floodlights bathed Jake's body in a halo of light, accentuating the curves of his muscles and the sheen of sweat that clung to his skin.

"Really, Coach?" Jake asked, his eyes wide and innocent, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I just wanna make you proud."

Coach Thompson's heart raced as he watched the young man standing before him, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. He knew he should walk away, but the temptation was too great. He would have Jake, and he would mold him into the perfect specimen, feeding his own dark desires.

Over the weeks that followed, Coach Thompson began to subtly encourage Jake to indulge in unhealthy habits. He brought him fast food after practice, always with a knowing wink and a conspiratorial smile. "You've earned it, Jake," he'd say, as the boy tore into a greasy burger or a box of fried chicken.

And Jake, ever eager to please his mentor, happily obliged. He began to grow softer, his once-hard body slowly succumbing to the lure of Coach Thompson's temptations. He gained weight, his once taut stomach starting to show a hint of roundness.

During their training sessions, Coach Thompson reveled in the way Jake's body had changed. He found excuses to touch him more often, his hands lingering on the young man's now-fleshy thighs or the curve of his expanding waistline. He marveled at the way the tight football pants strained against Jake's growing bulk, the fabric stretched taut over his muscular but increasingly doughy buttocks.

"Coach, do you think I'm getting too big?" Jake asked one day, his brow furrowed as he looked down at his slightly rounded belly.

"No, no, not at all," Coach Thompson replied, his voice soothing and reassuring. "You're just filling out, that's all. It's natural."

"But my pants are getting tight," Jake protested, running his hands over his thickening thighs.

"It's just muscle," the coach lied, the excitement coursing through him at the thought of Jake becoming more and more dependent on him. "Trust me, you're still in fantastic shape."

As the semester wore on, Jake continued to balloon, his body a testament to Coach Thompson's twisted machinations. The other players began to notice, but Coach Thompson silenced their concerns with a stern glare and a reminder that Jake was still a valuable member of the team.

The coach kept detailed records of Jake's weight, secretly relishing the steady increase in numbers and the accompanying changes in his young charge's physique.

One evening after practice, Coach Thompson found himself alone with Jake in the locker room. The boy had just stepped out of the shower, water droplets glistening on his now-pudgy frame. His once-chiseled abs were a distant memory, replaced by a soft layer of fat that quivered slightly as he toweled off.

"Jake, why don't you let me give you a massage?" Coach Thompson suggested, his voice husky with desire. "It'll help with your muscle recovery."

Jake hesitated for a moment, but then his trusting eyes met the coach's, and he nodded. "Okay, Coach. If you think it'll help."

Coach Thompson could hardly contain his excitement as he began to knead Jake's broad shoulders, working his way down the boy's back. His hands slid over the curve of Jake's now ample buttocks, and he felt a shiver of lust run down his spine.

As he continued the massage, Coach Thompson's mind raced with fantasies of how much further he could push Jake, how much more he could make the boy depend on him. He felt no guilt, no remorse, only the overwhelming drive to possess and control.

But just as he was about to move his hands to Jake's soft, inviting belly, the door to the locker room swung open. It was another player, looking for his lost keys. The interruption shattered the spell, and Coach Thompson quickly pulled his hands away from Jake's body, a flush creeping up his neck.

"I think that's enough for today," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Get dressed and head home, Jake."

As Jake slipped on his clothes, Coach Thompson couldn't help but watch, his eyes lingering on the increasingly out-of-shape body that he'd helped create.

[luvwoniez]

on some days, loving haechan means pulling him away from his computer when you know he's been sitting in front of it for hours. it could've been work, maybe a game or a video - no matter, his eyes still burned from fatigue. you were left with no choice, but to drag him away from anything that would strain his eyes.

you grip his arms, tugging him down in the seat next to you on the couch. you are met with little resistance from him, albeit with a whine.

"you're going to go blind this way, hyuck." you sigh as you turn to face him. he reciprocates the action with a twist of his body and careful positioning of his too-long legs.

he jutts out his bottom lip in a way he knows it'd make your knees go weak. "i just need to finish one more thing!"

"no-"

"please," haechan continues. his glasses slips down the slope of his nose as he squirms in the seat. "just give me five minutes, promise!" he cupped his hands together, intertwining his fingers to plead. it's not the first time he's done it, and it certainly won't be the last.

you only cross your arms before narrowing your gaze, sighing as he inches closer to you in attempt to soften your strict insistence. you know he won't give up even if you scold him, so you do the one thing that could hopefully distract him and give him a much-needed break from sitting in front of a screen all day.

you reach your hands out to him, fingers reaching to his temples. that leads you to pinching the dark frames on his face and gently sliding them off. you end up slipping it onto the neckline of your shirt before leaning forward. haechan instinctively closes his eyes, reaching for your waist in a habitual motion.

the movement between you two is methodic, built upon the countless moments you've shared thus far. you leave a kiss on one of his eyelids, making sure the brush of your lips linger on his skin is long enough for him to slouch against your touch. you are too far from his heart to even feel it thrum against his ribcage, but you know it is from the way haechan subtly preens at the affection you give him.

you pull away briefly - only to press another prolonged kiss to his other eyelid. this time, haechan sighs in contentment. his current demeanor is far divorced to his typical behavior, and a part of you wonders if it is haechan - but a larger part of you knows it is him. only, the haechan in front of you is not haechan. it is your donghyuck, the quiet and softer side of him one can only glimpse for a second through the lens of the camera but is one you have come to know and love.

when you truly part from him, it is a struggle - both for him and you. you find difficulty in creating space between you again, and he does his most to keep you as pressed closely to him as you were just miliseconds prior. you sit in golden silence, relishing it until you eventually have to fill it.

"are you still going to go back?" you whisper.

haechan doesn't say anything, but you know his answer. he curls into your side, molding into you as if unable to ever be away again. he keeps his eyes closed with a hum, and you know you've done your own way of loving him today too.

[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Imagine holy, virgin, sacred reader who has to teach these three misbehaving children (I was thinking Minho, seungmin, and jisung) of the church how to properly be holy or wtv and somehow they get her to undress in front of them so she can "worship her own body", and they all is start using her how ever they want. and somehow along the way jisung subs, and then Minho subs with the both of them while Seungmin is js, seungmin I guess. Idk I is thought that was hot. 😊

FUCKING HELLO???? babyyyyy as a former church girlie with a corruption kink, this HITS 😩😩😩 taking it in a slightly different direction but the main point is still there

pure, innocent reader trying to be a good mentor to these boys and leading a small bible study with the three of them, during which they discuss holy relationships. the boys convincing her to show her body so they have a perfect example of a godly woman to set as their standard. because surely god would want them to have someone to look up to in that respect. someone to remember when searching for the perfect wife. at least that's what they tell her.

jisung’s the first to crack, practically lunging at you as you fidget almost uncomfortably at your exposure. you’re surprised by the way he jumps for you but offer no resistance because this must be right. the way he’s looking at you with such adoration as he pushes your legs apart and hooks them over his shoulders, urging you to lean back on the sofa…this is surely a form of worship. right? “can i taste?” you find yourself nodding shyly, refusing to look at the other two men as jisung eagerly molds his mouth to your pussy. his eye contact is intense and you soon look away, sucking on your bottom lip to stifle soft whimpers as more hands reach for your bare form.

"y/n, why are you hiding your sounds? didn't you teach us about making a joyful noise? are you not enjoying it?" why does seungmin's coaxing sound like he's mocking you? jisung's starved groan brings your attention back to him and seungmin laughs. "jisunggie is certainly enjoying it. why don't you let him know how well he's doing? let us hear you..." you're hesitant until jisung presses a finger into you and curls it, then you finally let out a soft moan. you couldn't have held it in even if you'd wanted to, especially considering the added pleasure of minho's lips on your chest.

it’s embarrassing how loud you get from such simple, careful touches. at least to you. but they all love it, if the strain in each of their pants is anything to go by. they love knowing how good they’re making you feel.

and they are certainly making you feel good. no one has ever touched you like this. you’ve only shared a few kisses in your lifetime so of course you’ve never had someone’s head between your legs or lips latched on your nipple. or a cock in your hand, which you don’t reject when seungmin grasps your wrist and guides your hand to wrap around the base.

he’s heavy in your hand and you look at him, unsure of what to do. before you can ask, he rocks his hips and strokes your hair. "i'll do all the work, just stay like that." you nod and watch him, gaze jumping back and forth between his dick and his face, which is already displaying how good he feels. you don't get to spend much time admiring him before minho is gently urging you to look at him. "you should taste him."

your attention immediately turns back to seungmin and you start to protest, feeling like it's something you shouldn't do. that's dirty. "b-but minnie-"

"shouldn't we try our best to please others? to share love amongst ourselves? you love us, don't you?" his tone is light and playful despite the way he throbs in your hand.

"yes but...isn't that dirty?" you whimper, gasping when jisung sucks on your clit.

"it's no more dirty than what jisung is doing to you right now, honey. and it certainly doesn't feel wrong to receive, does it? " he's good. he's taking away any mental blocks that are preventing you from truly letting go. surely god would want you to please those you love and not be greedy.

you turn back to minho and open your mouth, still shy but absolutely willing to try anything for them. you're safe here. and if it pleases them, surely it pleases god.

with seungmin in your hand and minho in your mouth, there's not much you can do to warn jisung that you're close. your grip on seungmin tightens as you grow more tense with each passing second and you gag when minho hits the back of your throat, tossing you over the edge. you shudder as you come undone, writhing under jisung's touch and letting out a string of moans and whimpers.

he looks at you with stars in his eyes as he retreats, taking a moment to admire your twitching form as he pulls his fingers from your quivering cunt before rising up on his knees. "can i just...?" he doesn't finish his sentence as he slaps his dick on your dripping pussy. "can i put it in?" he sounds desperate as he rocks against you, his tip catching on your entrance and drawing out another small sound.

minho pulls back and you utter permission before opening your mouth to him again, giving him a pleading look as your lips wrap around his tip. you shiver as seungmin's fingers comb through your hair and give him a squeeze to show you haven't forgotten him. you still have no clue what you're doing but they don't seem to mind as they make use of your body.

the stretch as jisung presses into you isn’t painful like you’d been led to believe it’d be for your first time. in fact, it’s downright delicious. and you know in that moment that they’ve created a monster.

is this what heaven feels like? it has to be. nothing so entirely delightful can be of this earth, it comes only from the father. “guys-” jisung whines as he ruts into you, unable to control his hips. “oh she’s so tight-”

“yeah?” seungmin doesn’t even spare him a glance before he begins to coo at you. “you gonna let me and min take a turn too?" you whimper out a muffled 'uh huh' and he guides your hand so your thumb swipes over the tip.

"good girl." minho's voice is gravelly and sends a jolt of arousal through your body, earning a soft groan from jisung. the eldest simply laughs. "you like that? you like knowing how good you're being?"

you moan out another 'uh huh'. you like being good. this is good. surely something so dirty has never been so perfect before. god will understand...

————

i’m so fucking sorry, the brain rot is too severe for me to say anything else

tags: @bahng-chrizz

[wishmaster]

Body Swap 72 Client 1A

Diego was just a normal college jock going to school on a football scholarship, who was looking for a way to make extra cash, when he heard about a program that allowed you to rent your body out to anyone for a minimum of 72 hours

being impatient Diego disregarded the fine print which allowed the occupier to do whatever they wish in that period of time.

He immediately signed up unaware his life would change so much in the next few days

With $5000 in his pocket he went to the place where he'd surrender himself to the new temporary owner. As per the agreement, the renter would take control of the body while Diego would spend the next 72 hours in the renter's body. Both had free reign over the others life with the caveat that the body possessor would feel any differences between the two bodies.

Enter Marcus , a tatoo artist by day and a sex crazed only fans performer by night. He loved shiny clothes and ink as well as piercings. But lately he wanted to see how the other half lived, wanting to spend time in a hetero male with a great body, a body maybe he could help mold. When Marcus became Diego he could feel the power and inside. a rush hit he could feel the muscles form, as if Marcus had done all the work to gain his body.

Diego had a similar experience but what he felt was the burning of his skin as every tattoo and piercing was experienced by him all at once.

Both immediately became aroused, as much as Marcus wanted to fuck his own body, Diego was straight so Marcus thought, so there was no attraction for now. Diego felt the latex become strained by Marcus monster dick, he reached down to touch it, impressed that such a small looking dude was so well endowed.

they'd go their separate ways for the next 72 hours, neither knowing what would happen till then. Diego headed to his temporary home as was part of the contract where he found a house full of leathers, latex and cameras all lined up for him to film. Marcus knew his body could not resist no matter who was in charge. He changed into another outfit. and the body seemed to take over, grabbing a pack of smokes, something Diego never touched in his old life.

He became a leather master, rock hard, his balls begging for release as the door bell range and a parade of young men came through for the next few days as he filmed sex scene after sex scene, the usually straight guy seemed to take to gay sexy quite easily, perhaps he was bi after all.. He wondered what Marcus was up to in his body?

As Diego's time flew by he became more of a dominate alpha and he was coming to embrace and enjoy his new body and life.

Before he knew it he felt something tugging at him, you see when the time was up each party reverted to their own body, no matter were they werr, special things needed to happen. Suddenly Diego was thrusted back into his old body, he was facing a mirror, the reflection showing what was to come for him. The pain, he felt the same pain as when he became Marcus. all over his body, but why? It soon became clear.

What the hell? He said aloud as he saw his neck and face tattooed and his ears and nose pierced. He stumbled back to reveal more changes had happened to himself.

His ripped body was inked up and his wardrobe had been replacde by harnesses and tight leather pants. His dick rock hard and on display under the leather. He found a letter:

Dear Diego, welcome to your new life, you can thank me later, I got you off that damn scholarship and made your body more of a work of art, you now work at the Black Cycle bar downtown where when you're not tending bar or dancing naked for crowds your a cum slut for all the Leather Daddies. Your welcome, your friend Marcus, PS: Thanks for the canvas.

In away Diego now had a very similar life to Marcus, except he'd no longer be the dominant Alpha, instead he was destined to live life as a lonely Bitch Boy. Diego would be able to Thank himself during his Next Shift.

Another Satisfied Swap from us.

[moldresistantstrains]

🌱👹Looking for something weird to grow? Check out these 16 mutant cannabis strains that'll catch you by surprise: https://moldresistantstrains.com/mutant-cannabis-16-weirdest-strains-to-grow-from-seed/

[stuffedteen]

Marco & Adam

Marco and Adam were two cocky, ripped studs who prided themselves on their sculpted bodies. They strutted around town, flexing their bulging biceps and tight asses, thinking they were invincible. But fate had a different plan for these dumb jocks.

One fateful day, they landed a gig as pizza delivery boys at the local joint, Big Tony's Pizzeria. Little did they know, their lives were about to take a deliciously decadent turn. The moment they walked into the shop, the aroma of freshly baked dough and melted cheese enveloped them, stirring something deep within their hungry cores.

As they made their rounds, delivering piping-hot pizzas to eager customers, temptation reared its seductive head. Marco and Adam couldn't resist the allure of free pizza, ready to be devoured with reckless abandon. And so, their downward spiral into gluttony began.

Their first indulgence was a large pepperoni pizza. The warm, gooey cheese melted on their tongues, sending waves of pleasure through their bodies. They moaned in delight as each bite filled their mouths, their fit physiques betraying their newfound weakness for cheesy, greasy goodness.

Days turned into weeks, and the pounds started piling on. Marco and Adam's once chiseled muscles were gradually engulfed by layers of soft, jiggly flesh. Their clothes strained against their expanding bellies, no longer able to contain their growing appetites. The pizzas had become their irresistible drug, and they craved more with each passing day.

One evening, after a particularly grueling workout, Marco and Adam stumbled upon a hidden stash of pizzas in the pizzeria's backroom. The discovery ignited their insatiable hunger, and they decided to give in to their deepest desires.

Greedily, they devoured slice after slice, their mouths working in harmony with their hefty appetites. The pizzas vanished into their ever-expanding guts, leaving them bloated and panting for more. Their muscles, once defined and taut, now gave way to plump curves and soft rolls.

"Damn, Marco, look at that gut of yours," Adam groaned, his hands caressing the bulging mound that had replaced Marco's once chiseled six-pack. "You've become such a porky fucker."

Marco chuckled, rubbing his own ballooning belly. "Yeah, well, look at you, Adam. Your ass is twice the size it used to be. Can't resist the call of the pizza, can you?"

Their banter was laced with desire, their bodies growing more pliable with each bite. Their lust for food had intertwined with their sexual desires, creating a heady mixture of pleasure and gluttony. They couldn't get enough.

Days turned into weeks, and their once-toned bodies transformed into luscious landscapes of indulgence. Their pecs softened into succulent man-tits, their once-defined abs giving way to a pillowy gut that protruded proudly. Their thighs rubbed together with every step, and their asses had grown round and plump, the perfect cushion for their insatiable desires.

And through it all, their sexual appetite had only intensified. The added weight brought new levels of pleasure, as they revelled in the feeling of their bodies pressed together, their extra rolls and cushiony flesh creating a symphony of sensuality.

"Fuck, Adam, you've become such a damn sexy hog," Marco moaned, his hands squeezing Adam's swollen love handles. "I love how big and soft you've gotten. It drives me wild."

Adam gasped, his fingers digging into Marco's fleshy ass cheeks. "And you, Marco, your belly is like a feast waiting to be devoured. I can't resist sinking my teeth into all that delicious flab."

Their desires collided, their once-fit bodies now molded by their shared passion for pizza and pleasure. They reveled in their newfound curves, their weight gain becoming a testament to their insatiable hunger for both food and each other.

And so, the tale of Marco and Adam, the two dumb, fit bros turned pizza-loving porkers, reached its steamy climax. With each passing day, their bodies continued to grow, fuelled by their voracious appetites and insatiable lust. They revelled in their transformation, embracing their newfound identities as indulgent, insatiable men.

[bokutosmochi]

TEASE ♡ NANAMI KENTO

nanami kento x fem!reader

"two orders of pie ala mode for nanami kento and anon please!"

ingredients? nanami has had enough of your teasing

what's it? smut

allergen warnings? teasing!reader, brat!reader, brat tamer!nanami, semi public sex, attempted road head [m!receiving], hair pulling, dumbification, some praise, mentions of oral [f!receiving]

sugar level? 1.7k

regulars? @tokyometronetwork @takipnet

parlor's note? i feel like my best smut works are for nanami, but you know what, can you blame me? there's just something about this man that makes me writing juices go brrr

bon appetit!

"ken, you look so good." you murmured softly from behind your boyfriend. your hands encircled his broad figure and ran up and down his toned chest -- how he still had the energy to go to the gym given his profession was beyond you, you're definitely thankful for it though.

he has a suit on, its blazer's colored a light beige with white plaid stripes and matching dress pants. his undershirt was plain white, the red tie added a pop of color and tied everything together. it fit him so well, molding against him and showing off all the muscles he works so hard on without straining the fabric too much, leaving something to the imagination while leaving you wanting more.

sending a quick handwritten thank you letter to his tailor wouldn't hurt.

even covered with layers of clothing, kento felt your warm hands on his skin - or maybe it just felt that way because he was heating up under you - but it was your anniversary and he made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in tokyo. he was not going to let his libido - and yours - get in the way of your plans. after all, you've discreetly hinted at how much you wanted to eat at this restaurant for quite a long time now, and getting reservations there takes months.

"maybe we should skip eating some overpriced meals and," you stepped into your tippy toes, thankfully because of the heels you were wearing, you didn't have to reach too high "eat something else instead." you whispered into his ear, voice as soft and tempting as the matching beige silk dress that wrapped your body.

"you sure?" kento asks, quirking an eyebrow at you through the mirror. "i've heard that the food there is divine."

you hummed thoughtfully at that, hands now on his back, exploring and appreciating the hard muscles. the way your nails - that he paid for - would gently run over and massage the ripples and the indentations along the plain of his back made him shiver and close his eyes, letting out a breathy exhale. "i think i'd enjoy having something else in my mouth." you floated from behind him, coming up right in front of your boyfriend. you were just about to get on your knees when he stopped you with a stern hand on your waist. "no, not right now. let's have dinner first."

he looked so appealing to you that you almost stomped your foot at his request right then and there. you wouldn't even have minded if he didn't return the favor -- bringing the gorgeous man standing before you pleasure was enough of a privilege. you resisted the urge to do so and pouted your glossy lips at him instead, you shot him a doe eyed look, hoping to have him desire you the way you desired him. "but ken," you dragged his name out pleadingly. "you wouldn't even have to do anything, just lemme take care of you." you batted your eyelashes at him seductively. "can even make it fast if you really wanna make it to our reservation."

he sighed at you. you already looked so tempting to him, but here you were, glancing up at him with a look on your face that would make any man's walls waver. in fact, he's sure many would drop down to their knees to worship you if they were the one fortunate enough to be called yours. it just made his job harder. of course you looked simply mouthwatering to him as much as he did to you. your dress complimented your skin perfectly, and it hugged your curves in all the right places, showing off your assets -- he pitied every single one of your exes for letting go of someone as stunning as you.

"sweetheart," he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to look at you without making it obvious he was doing so -- it would only tell you how his patience was thinning out, how you were so close to getting what you want. "i swear to you, the millisecond we get home i am going to give you what you need until the sun comes up, but right now we have other matters to attend to."

it physically hurt him to walk away from the bedroom, but he knew it was the only way to get you to the car and the restaurant -- it was the only way to get the anniversary dinner over with so he can begin with his real dessert for the night. and it worked like a charm.

well, kinda. you didn't give up so easily and kento should have known.

he let his guard down once he sat down on the spotless fine italian leather of your car seat, quickly relaxing in to it. you were already strapped in beside him - after he opened the door for you and helped you in, of course kento would not settle for less than treating you like a princess - eyeing the bulge in his pants. he unconsciously adjusted himself, groaning while he was at it. the sound and the visual proof of how much kento - this god amongst morals to your left - was turned on because of you almost made you moan, but you fought the sound back down your throat. if he realized that you caught on to his arousal, he would act more casual, make an effort to calm down.

you didn't want that, no no.

after revving the engine to life, nanami pressed on the gas pedal lightly, yet the sleek midnight black automobile still lurched forward at an amazing speed.

the man was in heaven. he loved driving fast, - because of the late hour, there was not much traffic - and he loved it when he gripped the steering wheel, while his other hand busied itself by getting a handful of your thigh.

you knew how intimacy always riled kento up, so you decided to put your smaller hand over his and hold it. to no one's surprise, he flipped his hand over to properly hold hands with you. with your fingers intertwined and an oblivious look in your eyes, you lifted your hand to your face and kissed his knuckles, then the tip of his fingers. you were always so affectionate with him so he thought nothing of it.

from the corner of your eye though, you saw how he hasn't softened yet.

keeping up with the innocent facade, you just stared ahead as you let your hands drop to the space between your thighs, right at the hem of your dress. you glanced over at nanami and found that he has not suspected anything yet.

after a few minutes of letting him reflexively caress the skin of your inner thigh, you let go of his hand, leaving it there and began leaning over him. your hands expertly unbuckled his belt, and you were about to unzip the zipper of his dress pants when he grabbed the back of your head, strands of your hair winded in his strong hand as he yanked you back harshly. as rough as he was being, the gesture only made you gulp and rub your legs together in excitement. "stop being a needy brat." he did not spit the words out through gritted teeth, instead he was perfectly composed. "you'll get what you're asking for later. just behave before you get more than what you have bargained for."

nanami should have defined what later meant. earlier, you comprehended the word as when you get back home, but now you're not so sure. it seems as if later is right now.

you were already seated across from him at the restaurant, already ordered and simply waiting for the food. you knew that you needed to stop your teasing since you were in a very classy establishment. while you may be seated in a more private booth, one that's away from the rest of the diners, you still think it would be improper to make a move on your boyfriend.

too bad he didn't think the same thing.

"you have been such a brat the whole day." his emerald eyes burned into yours with such an intensity you found yourself looking away. "hey, no no, none of that." he scooted to sit on the very edge of the seat when you did so, his finger was on your chin, leading it so you would look into his eyes while his other hand traveled down below the table and started running up and down your bare legs.

"brats should get treated as such, don't you agree?" he murmured at you, taking in the way you squirm and struggle to look at him. there were beads of sweat forming on your forehead though the restaurant was cool enough -- they only served to be physical evidences of you being flustered.

"good girl," was the second to the last thing you heard before he disappears under the table. you jumped when you felt his feather-like touch on your legs, slowly, teasingly, deliberately inching up and up until he reaches your pink cotton panties. and "try and be quiet for me, alright darling?" was the last thing you heard before you feel him pushing your underwear to the side and devouring you.

"stop crossing your legs." he said firmly, yet quietly, not wanting any prying eyes in your direction. helplessly, you did so, falling under his charm and becoming completely brainless. so early on, you were already at his mercy and you both knew it.

[littlemissmanga]

oooh for the kiss prompt, may I please request:

3. their lips on yours, hot, feverish, partly sucking, teasing with their tongue (OMG-)

with Jesse or Wolffe

thank you so much for being amazing 🤩

Oh yes you may! And I only return the amazing I receive, my dear, so this is a community effort :)

Hm, it's a tough choice but I think I'm feeling Jesse today. Just feeling that particular brand of intense.

Pairing: Jesse x reader

w/c: 663

SFW but very suggestive, no warnings, just fluff

He needed to see you.

That was the only thought running through his head, the only thing that mattered in this moment. The guilt at not helping his brothers settle in after such a tough mission can come tomorrow.

Tonight, he planned on getting lost in you.

He keyed in the code to your front door. Your singing is the first thing he registered as he made sure the door locked behind him. His armor trailed behind him as he moved inside, following the sound of your voice into the kitchen.

There you are.

He could cry with how beautiful you were. Karking vibrant as you moved effortlessly in your own space, putting away dishes like it was a choreographed performance, your hips swinging to the beat you were singing.

You were everything good, and sweet, and kind, and pure in this galaxy. Everything he longed but never hoped for.

Everything you insisted he deserved.

He wasn’t so sure of that, not with the specter of old battles haunting him. But he also wasn’t a good enough man to care, not when you gave yourself to him so happily.

“Can I cut in?”

 You yelped, and Jesse was glad he chose to stay in the entry based on how you flailed about, surprised by his voice.

“Jesse!” Your tone was a mix of annoyed and overjoyed and he had never heard anything so lovely. You flew across the kitchen, forcing him to catch you as you threw yourself into his arms.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Jesse grumbled into your ear, his hold around you tightening. He let his hands mold to the curve of your frame, relishing in the feel of you securely against him. He could feel each breath you took as your chest expanded against his, and yet he was compelled to pull you even closer.

“How long do I have you?”

“Four days.”

He could feel your smile form against his neck. It was more than he usually got.

“Lucky.” Jesse looked down as he felt you pull back and look up at him. “You’ve got lousy timing. I just finished cleaning up. You’re lucky you’re cute, though. I don’t mind dirtying up the kitchen again. What d’ya want for dinner? I’ve got some tip yi—"

He cut you off with the seal of his lips against yours. Food wasn’t going to satisfy him. He needed you, and he needed you to need him just as fiercely.

Jesse walked you back to trap you against the wall, his hips meeting yours as he pressed himself against you, trapping you as his tongue darted out to tease your soft lips. Satisfaction hummed pleasantly through his body as you melted from his touch.

Your mouth dropped open at his insistence, and he couldn’t resist gently taking your lower lip between his own and sucking, soothing the strain after with the swipe of his tongue.

Gods, he couldn’t get enough of those sweet moans you made just for him.

“Sorry baby. I couldn’t wait another second. Needed my mouth on you. Needed you right here against me.” His apology was half sincere at best. Tomorrow he can be sorry for interrupting, for taking what he needed.

You pushed up against him to hold your lips against his as you said, “Don’t be sorry. I’ve missed you, too.”

Jesse pushed forward, done with teasing touches at your approval. He claimed your mouth with his, stealing the very breath from your lungs and replacing it with himself. You returned his frenzy, trailing your tongue against his before pulling back enough to nip at his lip, the shock of the sting shooting straight to his groin.

With a growl from deep in his chest, Jesse broke away, distracted for only a split second by the string of saliva connecting his lips to your sinful tongue, still poking out of your open mouth.

“Bedroom. Now,” he rasped, enamored at how quickly you jumped to follow his command, pulling him behind you to your bedroom door so you could both get what you needed.

[randomcollection-o-stuff]

I saw your tags on the mycology tumblr post - I challenge you to scare me with a mushroom fact. I’ve harvested and eaten wild mushrooms a few times, I’ve got my share of guidebooks and worked on research my university did on suede boletes. I’m no spring chicken of the woods but i’m also far from an expert. Scare me with the Deep Mushroom Lore

Woaaaah this got a bit lost and im a bit late, yikes! Anyway it looks like you were focusing on the Basidiomycota phylum which is where a lot of the frontliners and popular ones are. But let's look at the Ascomycota, lots of scary stuff there, lord there's so much but baseline ig is cordyceps which everyone knows about now. They can alter and control insects, a big example is bullet ant behavior to makes them climb as high as they can and bite onto the grass or whatnot to secure themselves until the host dies. They go as high as possible so when the cordycep actually grows the fruitbody the spores can spread as far as possible. Luckily for us human nervous systems are way too complex for the cordyceps....for now.

I mean any parasite that controls it's host is crazy and I 10000% recommend looking into it.

There's another fungus Laboulbeniomycetes that grows exclusively on arthropod exoskeleton.

A lot of fungal diseases make me shudder, there are probably fungal spores in your lungs right now! Pneumocystis is the genus of a yeast that loves your lungs and you guessed it, causes a strain of pneumonia that's very hard to diagnose! Yippee! Mostly because it is very hard to culture.

Let's look at everyone's favorite yeast Conidida. This guy is DIMORPHIC so it can be a yeast or invasive hyphae depending on environmental triggers/conditions, and wouldn't you know it, lives at human body temp. This guy causes yeast infections and the like.

Aspergillus is one that ferments soy products BUT can also cause Apergillosis which can cause an allergic reaction and eventually a fungal ball growth in your lungs, aak!

In a different phylum, Mucoromycota, Mucormycosis is probably my least favorite as the group USUALLY targets your fruits and is that pesky mold. Well another version of it will target the sinuses of immunocompromized diabetics. These are sugar loving molds so uhhhhh, no bueno. I recommend looking at pictures with CAUTION it is gross. The eyes can get really messed up, black lesions can show up on your face really really nasty stuff.

Anyway, Ascomycota cool group, lots of human diseases (many of which are hard to cure because of how close fungi are to animals so we target very specific things in their cells but OOPS resistance is on the rise), have fun with this info ::)

[godsfavdarling]

chapter 35

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!oc

summary: smut.

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3 my masterlist

warnings: this is just smut pretty much (unprotected sex - she is on a pill, no condom; fingering, praise)

words: 2,1k

As Molly stood by the bed, her voice carried through the room as she spoke about mundane things, unaware of the effect she was having on Spencer.

The summer heat seemed to intensify the air, making it thick and heavy, but all Spencer could focus on was the way Molly's body moved, the subtle sway of her hips as she talked, the curve of her waist accentuated by the white tank top she wore.

Her words washed over him like a distant murmur as he drank in the sight of her, his gaze tracing the lines of her body, lingering on the gentle swell of her breasts straining against the fabric, the delicate outline of her nipples visible through the thin material.

He could feel the heat pooling low in his abdomen, a primal desire stirring within him as he watched her, unable to tear his eyes away.

Molly continued to talk, oblivious to the effect she was having on Spencer, as she moved towards the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth.

Spencer's heart raced with anticipation as he watched her go, his mind consumed with thoughts of her, of the way she looked, the way she moved, the way she made him feel.

As she disappeared into the bathroom, Spencer couldn't resist the urge any longer. "Molly…" he called out, his voice thick with desire.

She came back, a curious look on her face as she caught sight of him on the bed. "What is it?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to find the right words. "I... I was wondering if you wanted to... you know," he stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Molly's eyes widened in surprise at his sudden boldness, but a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Are you asking me if I want to have sex?" she teased, her voice laced with amusement.

Spencer felt his cheeks grow even hotter at her teasing, but he nodded eagerly. "Yes, I mean... if you want to, of course," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Molly's smile softened, her eyes shining with warmth as she crossed the room to join him on the bed. "I'd love to…" she said, her voice gentle and reassuring as she took his hand in hers.

"Can we try something?" he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

"What…?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper as she leaned in close to hear him better.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he summoned the courage to speak his desires aloud.

"Can you sit between my legs?" he said, his voice trembling with anticipation, "I want to show you just how much I love you."

As Spencer's words hung in the air, Molly's smile widened into a mischievous grin, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Without a word, she leaned in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, her hands tangling in his hair.

Feeling emboldened by her response, Spencer gently guided her to settle between his legs, his hands roaming over her body as he shifted her position. With a tender touch, he turned her so that she was nestled against his chest, her back pressed against his warm skin.

Molly let out a soft sigh of contentment as she melted into his embrace, her body molding perfectly against his as she relaxed into his touch. She felt a surge of desire coursing through her veins, a hunger for intimacy, as she reveled in the sensation of his strong arms wrapped around her.

Spencer buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply as he savored the scent of her hair, the feel of her skin against his own.

He trailed feather-light kisses along her jawline, his hands exploring every curve and contour of her body with a tender reverence.

As his hands roamed over Molly's body, she felt a surge of desire coursing through her veins. Even with her underwear still on, she could feel the heat of his touch searing through the fabric, sending shivers down her spine.

He massaged her thighs, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips, as he moved closer and closer to her center.

Finally, his hand found its way to her covered pussy, the fabric of her underwear damp with arousal.

With each caress, Spencer traced delicate patterns over her heat, his fingertips leaving a trail of sensation in their wake. Molly's breath hitched in her throat as he teased her, his touch alternating between feather-light strokes and firmer pressure, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over her.

She arched her back, pressing herself against him as she sought more of his touch, her body craving the sweet release only he could provide.

Spencer held her close, his arms wrapped securely around her waist as he whispered words of encouragement and praise into her ear.

"You're so beautiful, Molly," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "You feel so good, you know that?"

Molly could feel the heat of his breath against her skin, making her melt. She whimpered in response, her body trembling with need as Spencer's fingers continued their relentless assault on her senses.

Molly's grip tightened on his thighs, her nails digging into his skin in a mixture of pleasure and desperation. The sensation of her nails against his flesh sent a jolt of arousal coursing through him, only fueling his desire to please her further.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Spencer eased Molly's underwear down her legs, exposing her to his hungry gaze. She gasped as the cool air hit her heated skin, her body tingling as she awaited his next move.

He finally lightly stroked her now bare fold with his fingers, dancing over her with a practiced skill that left her breathless. She moaned and writhed, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased the release that seemed just out of reach.

As Spencer's fingers delved slowly into her, Molly felt herself teetering on the edge of oblivion, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity. She could feel his hard length pressing against her back, a tantalizing reminder of the pleasure yet to come.

His fingers curled and found her sweet spot, Molly's body tensed, her instincts urging her to squeeze her legs together in a reflexive response to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her.

Sensing her reaction, Spencer whispered soothing words into her ear, his voice a comforting presence amidst the whirlwind of sensations.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmured softly. But despite his reassuring words, he didn't stop his movements, his fingers continuing to work their magic on her sensitive flesh.

With his other hand, he gently spread her legs apart even more, urging her to keep them open for him. The gesture was both possessive and tender, a silent command.

She obeyed, her body yielding to his touch as she surrendered herself to the pleasure he was giving her. With each stroke of his fingers, she felt herself spiraling closer to the edge, her senses overwhelmed.

Molly lost herself, her body responding with soft moans to his every touch.

With each stroke, he kept whispering sweet nothings in her ear, his words like a symphony of ecstasy that drove her to the brink of madness.

"You're doing so well, Molly," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "You can take it, baby."

With one hand still buried between her thighs, Spencer used the other to pull down the straps of Molly's top, exposing her breasts. She gasped as the cool air hit her heated skin, her nipples hardening in response to his touch.

Spencer's fingers danced over her with a practiced skill that left her breathless with desire. He teased her nipples to stiff peaks, rolling them between his fingers.

"You’re so pretty," Spencer murmured into her ear.

Her movements became more frantic as she chased the release.

"You're so close, sweetheart," Spencer breathed, his lips brushing against her earlobe. "Just let go for me. I've got you."

And as Spencer's fingers found her clit once again, Molly cried out in pleasure, her body trembling as he applied just the right amount of pressure to send her spiraling.

"Oh, God, Spencer," Molly gasped, her voice ragged with need. "Don't stop, please... I'm so close..."

"You're doing so well…," Spencer growled, his voice low and possessive. "You can do it. Let go for me, baby. Cum for me."

And then, with a cry of ecstasy, Molly tumbled over the edge, her orgasm crashing over her in a wave of pure bliss.

"Oh, fuck, Spencer!" she cried out, her body convulsing as pleasure washed over her in relentless waves.

As she pressed harder against Spencer's body, her cheek coming to rest on his chest, she sought comfort in his embrace, her fingers digging into his forearms that were wrapped securely around her. The warmth of his touch enveloped her, grounding her in the present moment as she rode the waves of pleasure.

She felt Spencer's lips press gentle kisses onto her head, his words of praise washing over her like a soothing balm.

"You did so well," he murmured. Her heart swelled up with love.

Spencer withdrew his fingers from Molly's warmth, bringing them to his lips without hesitation.

Molly watched in silent fascination as he sucked on his fingers, tasting her essence with hunger. It was a sight that stirred something primal within her, igniting a fresh wave of longing that pulsed through her veins.

Feeling his rock-hard length pressing against her, Molly knew that this was far from over.

With a silent understanding passing between them, Spencer shifted their bodies, guiding Molly into position on her hands and knees. As she arched her back, offering herself up to him in eager anticipation, Spencer moved behind her, his hands roaming over her curves with possessive intent.

With a swift motion, Spencer shed his underwear, positioning himself behind Molly, his hardened length poised for entry.

Molly's breath caught in her throat as she felt Spencer's hardness pressing against her entrance. With a slow, deliberate motion, Spencer eased himself into her soaking wet depths, filling her with a sense of completeness that left her breathless.

As he began to move within her, his thrusts grew more urgent with each passing moment. With each stroke, she felt herself drawing closer to the edge of oblivion, her senses overwhelmed by yet another climax approaching.

Spencer's hands gripped her hips with a possessive strength, guiding her movements as he drove himself deeper and deeper into her.

Molly cried out in ecstasy, her voice mingling with his in a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the room.

As Spencer plunged deeper into her, Molly spread her legs wider, allowing him to penetrate her even further. She gasped as she felt him stretch her to her limits.

She felt him filling her completely.

Spencer pulled Molly closer to him, their bodies melding together as they knelt on the bed. Molly sat in his lap, her legs spread wide as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She kept her hands on his knees, bracing herself as he was buried deep in her.

His face nestled into her hair and ear, his breath hot against her skin.

Their moans mingled together in a chorus of passion, their voices rising in crescendo as they approached the peak of their ecstasy. They grew closer and closer to the brink, their bodies trembling with the force of their desire.

With a final, desperate cry, Molly's walls clenched around Spencer as she felt his dick twitching inside her, releasing his hot cum.

Their bodies convulsed with the intensity of their release, riding the waves of pleasure together. Spencer held her close, their hearts beating as one.

They stayed like that for a moment, evening out their breaths as Spencer leaned his forehead against her back. Molly's body trembled one more time from the pleasure of him still inside her.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Molly nodded, even though Spencer couldn't see her gesture from his position behind her.

"Yes," she replied softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of satisfaction and longing. "You have to let me go now…I really need to pee," Molly giggled, her voice lightening the atmosphere that had been charged with passion just moments before.

Spencer chuckled, his fingers trailing along her arm as he reluctantly let her go. He watched her disappear into the bathroom, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened to the sound of running water.

As she returned, Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed with exertion. He reached out eagerly, pulling her back into his arms and savoring the sensation of her warmth against his skin.

They lay together in contented silence, the air thick with the lingering echoes of their lovemaking.

Spencer pressed a tender kiss to the crown of Molly's head, his heart overflowing with love