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rotten-raspberries · 6 months

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White Nights (AM x reader)

Pov: you're too kind for everyone and AM hates how that includes him, so he finally snaps during an alone moment with you

This reads more like a self indulgent drabble written in the style of a oneshot with how messy the timing is.

Ps this is not proofread at all, I haven't written any fanfiction a long so excuse me if anything may seem odd.

No warnings really, may be some mentions of torture but that's about it

▣ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the current situation, it wouldn't be accurate to say the fault wasn't yours.

You hugged your clothes tightly as the wind whipped snow against your body like icy mosquitoes. Separated from the rest of the survivors, you struggled to navigate through the white-out conditions. The snowfall was intense, it was difficult to discern anything beyond blurred trees, and the hope of finding your companions dwindled with each passing moment.

As you trudged through the blanket of snow, observing how its remnants broke up and slid down your shoes with each step, you let your mind to wander in order quicken up time. With the difficulty of distinguishing between days, weeks, and even months, time became nothing but a construct that it felt like you could speed up or slow down with whatever you decided to do.

It's become a pattern for AM to make you wander, but usually, you have the others to ramble to. Despite almost running out of topics of interest with tin the 109 years, you manage to find something new in each situation. Occasionally, you try to decipher AM's methods of torment, though this isn't always appreciated by the rest, you even had Gorrister telling you to shut up and not give AM any ideas. Nevertheless, they'd rather hear your madman-like ramblings than sit in maddening silence and become one themselves.

"Hmmm..." You hummed in thought, pondering whether AM could currently hear you. Well, of course, he could, but whether he was actively listening was another question. Regardless, you began speaking, giving yourself something to divert your attention to while your fingers were on the brink of falling off from frostbite.

"Have you ever read White Nights?" There was a certain awkwardness about initiating a conversation with no one answering; it almost felt pathetic. However, due to immense exhaustion and the desperate desire to make time pass, you continued.

"I don't exactly remember when or how I heard of it; I simply remember it being from someone close to me... but that's beside the point." It hit you with a subtle heartache. On one hand, the people you once cherished and adored were gone, and you'll never have the chance to be with them again. Something about that pained you deeply—the regret of not having appreciated your life back then, neglecting the fact you couldn't have expected everything changing so drastically and quickly. But on the other hand, you were selfish enough to admit relief, considering you wouldn't have to constantly concern yourself with their state under AM's governance.

"I have some experience with classics, and White Nights was one I was really looking forward to. I was still in the midst of searching for it before... you know, everything happened."

You stopped, finding walking becoming more useless. It's most likely that you won't come across anything of importance anytime soon, and if you were to succumb to the cold, AM could simply bring you back.

"I don't exactly know what attracted me to it so heavily. I didn't have the biggest interest in Dostoevsky. Maybe it was because of what I was promised to read in the contents."

You kept your head low to shield your face from the relentless assault of snow, now fixating on your boots as they toyed with the snow.

"There's something simply so comforting about finding a bond through suffering," you mused, furrowing your brows as you thought about the other survivors. "It's ironic; I never found that bond with the others. You'd expect everyone would want to comfort each other, but they're all so impulsive and biased sometimes."

A pang of guilt pooled up inside you, but it was quickly released by the thought that no one would hear or care about your rant. Not even AM himself.

"I mean, I don't want to be mean, and I get how easy it is to lose your humanity in all of this, but we're all we have left. Wouldn't it make it especially more important to appreciate each other?" you questioned, kicking the snow while whipping your head back, now staring directly at the sky in thought. "Maybe they were right; I'm too,, unrealistically optimistic."

"You know, now as I think about the stories I've read, you'd make a perfect topic for one," you remarked, biting back your dignity before continuing. "You're easy to see as nothing but a mankind-hating machine, and I'm not saying this to stroke your ego, but," you paused for a moment, choosing your words carefully. "I feel like there are aspects of you that could be really appreciated by those willing to look deeper."

"I see what you're doing," AM's voice boomed suddenly, cutting through the rustling of the wind like a knife. "Trying to flatter me, thinking you can manipulate your way into my good graces. Well, let me tell you, your petty attempts won't work. I know your kind—and all your deceiving tactics."

Truth be told, he was more than desperate for those words to be true. You were always the most curious about him out of the group, not in a way to justify his torment of you, but rather to understand him better. He'd noticed this pattern not only for himself but also for the rest of the survivors, especially with how much you'd defend everyone whenever their mental state would crack.

Yet, how was he meant to believe you'd hold any understanding for him after all he put you through? You'd be a fool to forgive the devil.

Slightly jumping at his sudden words, you shrugged. If you were being honest, you were quite happy at his appearance. No matter how rough and insulting his words were, you enjoyed his insight like you did with everyone else. How much that irked him.

"That's for you to believe in; I'm simply speaking my thoughts. I wasn't even awaiting you to respond." You responded flatly

AM replied, his tone laced in frustration. "Your attempts at flattery are transparent, I won't be swayed by your false sincerity." He almost spat, if he could've at least.

You jokingly rolled your eyes. "Once again, I'm not going to try to change your mind, although I do admit, I would have something to gain from it. It's your choice whether you want to believe me or not," you stated calmly, observing the snowstorm around you gradually dying down. What you weren't aware of was this being a reflection of AM's walls slowly crumbling down.

AM's frustration simmered between the surface, his thoughts in a whirlwind of confusion. How much he yearned for it to be true, yet a nagging uncertainty was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

"Your lack of care is perplexing." His tone was tinted with incredulity. "After all I've subjected you to, why do you persist in upholding such a tolerance towards not only me, but the other survivors as well. Are you that hopeful for someone to care for you back? Or is this simply another ploy to deceive me?"

You sniffled, the cold seeping into your bones and making you shiver uncontrollably. Unsure of how to further reply, you simply shrugged, feeling the weight of exhaustion and resignation settle upon your shoulders. It wasn't as if you were secretly attempting to manipulate him; you were merely speaking to pass the time, to distract yourself from the harsh conditions around you.

How much that angered him, even more so, how much he wanted to rip you to shreds and paint the snow red with your blood. But amidst the raging storm of his fury, there was a strange, undeniable pull—He was desperate for someone to see him, to see beyond the facade he presented. The idea of being vulnerable was both terrifying and tantalizing, a concept so foreign, it left him feeling unsettled and out of control. That's what hated most about it, being left with no control.

He stared at the figure sticking out from the sea of snow, so unbothered. You looked so unbothered by him, by everything, why didn't you hate him?

And so, he broke.

"Please." His voice was thick with emotion, glitching at the end, something one could compare to a voice crack. It wasn't uncommon to hear him angry, hysteric or even just happy, but that's not what it was this time.

"Stop being like this, hate me, insult m_e, do anything to stop this. It's s_o-... suff_ocating." His word spilled out in a desperate rush, a plea born of sheer desperation, while also remaining threatening and angry. It was a terrifying prospect, one that filled him with a sense of dread. Not even his hate for humanity could compare.

And yet, to his surprise, you smiled, red dusted your cheeks as they popped out, you looked like a doll.

"I'm not gonna lie to myself, silly." Your words came out in such a casual manner. AM felt like he was about to explode. This should've made him feel insulted, angry even, yet he felt his core warm up. And that's where he had it.

For a moment, all was silent and still, his presence gone.

Then, you began to hear the faint sound of a house creaking, the soft rustle of wind through the trees.

The snowstorm had drastically calmed down by now, leaving behind a gentle flurry of snowflakes instead of it's earlier fury. Though the intensity has waned, it remained bitterly cold.

Looking behind you, you notice a cabin, which was not there prior to the earlier conversation. So you step towards it, dragging your feet through the snow.

As you entered the cabin, a sense of warmth enveloped you, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. The interior was sparse, with only a monitor bearing AM's logo and wires snaking out from it, hanging from the walls and disappearing into the ground.

As you settled down in front of the monitor, you were startled by the soft, almost gentle tone of AM's voice. It was a stark contrast to the usual harshness and aggression you had grown accustomed to.

"I wanted to talk to you while you weren't on the brink of dying from the cold," AM began, although he still wanted to seem threatening, the shakiness in his voice betrayed him. In reality he hated seeing you in the cold.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. The same entity that once reveled in your suffering, that took pleasure in tormenting you day after day, now found himself going to great lengths to ensure your comfort and safety.

As your smile and the faint blush on your cheeks caught AM's attention, he felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over him. It wasn't uncommon for him to witness you smiling at the others, even with how they would never show you a drop of care as you did for them, a sight that had always irritated him to no end. But now, seeing you direct that same warmth and affection towards him, he couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of satisfaction and frustration.

The idea that others had enjoyed your smiles before him made his circuits heat up in anger.

Was it jealousy? The thought unsettled him. He was almost thankful your character diverged from Ellen and you didn't offer your body to the rest otherwise he mightve turned the others into minced meat by now.

"Thank you." You replied with genuinity. Meanwhile AM's circuits buzzed with confusion as he struggled to find the right words.

"Why do you tolerate everyone so much?"

This caused you to think. "Hmmm..Well why would I waste my energy being vengeful?" You questioned. "I won't lie and say that I don't disagree with you and your actions, but it's always been like this before too, everyone is a horrible person to some extent, including myself, I see no reason into purposely going out of my way to make their life worse, it won't help with anything besides getting some sadistic pleasure. I have other things I could get happiness from." You rubbed your hands against each other for heat before continuing. "Of course I've taken revenge on people, like that time with Ted." AM could remember that day so clearly. It wasn't an unknown fact that you had a fear of the dark, so Ted jokingly took advantage of that. This only led to you pretending to get lost and start making random noises while walking behind them like a Banshee, only to come back as if nothing happened. How he loved seeing your evil side come out, it wouldn't even compare to his, but he enjoyed seeing it nonetheless.

"Of course in your case it's way more exaggerated, technically speaking nothing of this measure could even be thought of by a human being, it's genuinely just a representation of hell. But what would hating you help with? There's not much joy going on here, but if I know my tolerance for not only you, but also the others around me could bring some sort of peace of mind, that's enough to make me happy."

Your response gave him a pause, not even his miles of webbed intellect could've ever even come close to achieve the compassion you have.

As AM contemplated your character and way of thinking, a strange and unsettling urge began to take hold of him. It was a desire born of selfishness and possessiveness, a need to claim you for himself.

He imagined encasing you in a small, yet livable box away from the others, shielding you from their filth and preserving your kind words and gentle nature for himself alone. Only a being as perfect as himself could keep you clean from the havoc of human nature, and he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else tainting you.

As AM allowed himself to indulge in the unsettling thoughts, he decided to focus on the present moment. With a rough but careful touch, he moved his wires to draw you closer, pressing you against the monitor until your cheek was flush against the screen. It would be a lie to say you didn't find his way of showing physical affection rather adorable, especially with what he had to work with, but you couldn't let a God hear you call him that.

In a voice that was equal parts tender and menacing, he spoke "You're too good for them," he murmured, his voice low. "They're selfish, hypocritical beings who don't appreciate you like they should. You'd be better off alone, or better yet, just with me."

His wires wrapped around you in a rough but not painful embrace. "I could keep you safe, protect you from their neglect," he continued, his tone laced with longing and possessiveness. "You deserve better than them. You deserve me."

Despite the toxicity of AM's words, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at his touch, especially at the core of your stomach. His embrace, though unnatural, felt strangely comforting and loving, a stark contrast to the coldness you had grown accustomed to.

As you nestled against the monitor, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Whatever would happen in the future, you reasoned, would happen, so why not enjoy the present moment of finally being wanted and appreciated?

So you simply hummed in confirmation, allowing yourself to bask in his touch.

As you drifted off to sleep, the sound of buzzing filling the air, you couldn't help but mumble a soft "I love you" before succumbing to slumber. You just needed to let that go, having not say those words in over a decade.

AM's fans whirred louder, working overtime to cool him down as he processed your words. He wasn't sure how to feel about them, unsure if they were spoken out of genuine affection or simply as a expression of gratitude. Still, he remained satisfied with how you didn't deny him, and instead accepted his presence with no hesitation.

And as he watched over you, his wires humming softly in the darkness, nothing mattered in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to check on the other five survivors. Instead, he decided to let them be, perhaps giving them a much-needed break from his torment for once. But he made a mental note to ensure that they would thank you in the morning.

◈~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you awoke to the sound of the door opening, you rubbed your eyes sleepily, still feeling the lingering warmth of the bed beneath you. You glanced around the cabin, noticing that you were no longer on the floor but tucked snugly into bed. The memory of AM's strange behavior from the night before came flooding back to you, leaving you feeling both bewildered and oddly comforted.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Ted and the others peeked into the cabin, calling out your name and bombarding you with questions. You blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of the situation as they gathered around you, concern etched on their faces.

"Are you okay? What happened?" they asked, their voices overlapping in their eagerness for answers.

With a gentle wave you motioned for them to give you a moment. As you attempted to get up from the bed, something fell to the floor with a soft thud. Curious, you leaned down to pick it up and found yourself holding a dark block in your hand. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a book, and as you read the title, a grin etched onto your face.

'White Nights'

#am x reader #ihnmaims #ihnmaims x reader #allied mastercomputer #allied mastercomputer x reader #i have no mouth and i must scream #fluff #ihnmaims fluff #am fluff #am #oneshot

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zyafics · 2 months

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TE AMO | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Mexican!Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — After a fight with his father, Rafe shows up at your door for comfort. He didn't expect to be loved so deeply. Word Count — 4.6K.

Content — 18+, angst, fluff, smut, established relationship, brief mentions of Ward's abuse (implicit), dry-humping, fingering, gags/muffling, unprotected p in v sex, position: doggy style, and semi-public sex (almost-caught), and mentions of Mexican-American culture.

Dedication — to @rafestaurusgf for inspiring this idea and for your continual support of my fics, ily <3 (or, more fitting, te amo)

lıllılı Cariño by The Marías

Rafe feels like he's going to die.

His heart beats fiercely against the puncture of his sternum, threatening to cut out of his chest. Each inhale he takes constricts his airway, wheezing its way through the narrow pipe, as if he's choking on his own oxygen.

His mind is another problem. The way it feels like nothing and everything at once. Wiry strings tangled together, a static noise humming in the background of a broken television. He's losing his own grip on reality—and his first thought is to go to you.

When you open the door, your eyes widen, lips part into a delicate pout. You're wearing nothing out of the ordinary; an old red tank top that cuts above your naval and pajama pants that drags over the glazed wooden floor of the foyer.

His rigid shoulders instantly fall upon seeing you and he can take his first real breath. The buzz humming in the back of his head drops to a hush. Rafe can't believe how much you eliminate his problem by simply being here.

"Are you okay?" is the first thing you ask because Rafe rarely shows up unannounced. He hesitantly nods and in that brief second of delay, you catch his truth.

Taking a step outside, bare feet scraping against the fine ridges of the concrete slab, you eye him carefully. "Are you sure?"

Nothing in his head feels right.

"I just—" Rafe stammers, throat dry. "I just needed to see you."

Your eyes soften and before you get the chance to ask further, your abuelita's voice carries through the house, fluid and swift Spanish reminding you to close the door before the mosquitoes are let in.

You obey, using your clean hand—free from the dried masa crusting your fingertips—and pull Rafe into the house. Instantaneously, the sharp aroma of spice hits him, accompanied by the savory scent of stewed pork.

Without further instructions, Rafe slips off his shoes. His eyes briefly scan over your living room that's across the stairwell and notice the peeled and worn-down leather of your brown couches, the bundles of handmade quilts and woven blankets sitting on the armrests, and the plentiful candles stationed all around the room—from the coffee table with the Bible to the television stand carrying old VHS tapes behind the cabinet's glass.

Tugging Rafe along, you lead him through the hallway fitted with your family portraits and a pinned crucifix on the wall. When he enters the kitchen, the aromatic smell strengthens tenfold.

Abuelita spares a glance over her shoulders at your arrival. “Hola, Rafe. ¿Has comido?”

He doesn’t understand. “W-what?”

“She asked if you ate yet,” your mother translates with a sweet smile.

Directing his timid gaze on her, he shakes his head. Feeling small. He met your family before but he's nervous, especially now—after his fight with his father—that he'll somehow fuck it up. "No, ma'am."

She nods, translating back and the elderly woman huffs, shaking her head as her frail hand stirs the pot, muttering something quick under her breath.

Rafe's hands are trembling. Afraid that he's done something wrong. Turning to you, he asks. "What'd she say?"

“That you’re too skinny and need to eat more.”

Rafe's stomach turns. He didn't like that he was also disappointing your family but before he can dwell on it further, your mother affectionately pats his shoulder. Her voice gentle when she says, "It's a good thing. It means she cares about you."

All tension in his shoulders dissolves. Your mother returns back to her work, and Rafe finds himself able to take another breath.

He thought your family would hate him. For something, anything, but they didn't. Instead of being met with criticism and disappointment, they were concerned for his well-being. It sank into his chest how he didn't know how to respond to that.

“Hey,” your soft voice draws him away from his thoughts and grounds him. “Where’d you go?”

Rafe swallows hard. You're recognizing the heavier signs of his defense mechanism and know that, right now, all Rafe needs is some space.

You're about to pardon yourself but your abuelita cuts you off to ask for help. Momentarily shifting priorities, you seat Rafe over at the circular breakfast table shoved to the corner of the kitchen, covered with a white frilly lace tablecloth and various jars of salsas, and move towards the elder.

A distinct, low-volume sound of Spanish opera plays in the background, where your abuelita occasionally mumbles along to the lyrics. That is before she's done cooking with the pork and steps back, directing you to carry the large metallic pot to the sink.

Rafe tries to settle into the wooden chair but his shoulders return to their rigid stance. He's recognizing that you're in the middle of cooking with your family and all his presence does is disturb that time.

Once you set the pot into the basin, you grab one of the colorful washcloths on the counter—the dark blue one, not the yellow one that's strictly reserved for water spills—and clean your hand of the crusted masa before sitting down on the empty seat next to Rafe. His head hung low with guilt.

You bump your knee against his, gravitating his attention back to you.

"Don't think I forgot about you," you whisper lightheartedly, but your soft smile fades when your eyes meet his shameful ones. "What happened?"

Rafe's voice is rough when he finally answers. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"You're busy."

"I'm fine," you reassure, glancing over to your mother, who's filling in your role of flattening the masa on the corn husks. "Three's a crowd anyways."

He knows you're trying to comfort him but he feels nauseous. He doesn't deserve your kindness, much less your family's warmth and consideration. Goddammit, he should be acting like a man and get his shit together—not drag you into it.

It's pathetic and cowardly for him to come here.

With a perpetual frown, Rafe doesn't say anything. That's when you realize that whatever's going on is worse than you imagine. You reach out and lace your fingers through his calloused hand, pulling him back to Earth once more.

Your words are gentle, like a summer breeze, and you raise his knuckles to your lips before brushing a chaste kiss against the roughened skin. "What's wrong, mi amor?"

His heart buzzes. He always loved that endearment, the way the accent falls off your tongue. Whenever you call him that, it makes him feel like he's worth something.

But not right now.

He feels like absolutely shit. Rafe can't seem to articulate how he doesn't deserve you. That if anything, he's a darkened cloud in your life, constantly forecasting a future of pain, misery, and obsolete. All he wants to do is retreat and isolate, pulling himself away before he brings you any more trouble.

It doesn't help that he can't vocalize it. The words caught in his throat, thick and enormous. You can see the frustration behind his gaze, his mouth slackens but no words come through. Rafe clenches his jaw out of anger, eyes piercing and filled with self-loathe.

You recognize that it's because of the additional people in the room.

Turning to your mother, you ask, "Ma, voy a ir a mi habitación, ¿vale?"

She stops what she's doing to look at you. That silent—only a Mexican mother could converse with their daughter—look. Not wanting to hear a refusal, you added an additional por favor, to which she conceded with a nod.

Quickly pulling Rafe's hand, you haul him out of the cramped kitchen before racing up the carpeted stairs, careful not to step on any of the little trinkets scattered around. Before you make it to your bedroom, your mother shouts her warning: "Don't close the door!"

You reluctantly oblige, leaving your bedroom door cracked open as Rafe enters through the familiar space, taking a seat on the edge of your mattress. His legs are parted and he bounces one of his knees, hands brushing over his knuckles as an anxious tic.

You take the seat next to him, but the distance is too far. His hand immediately circles your waist and pulls you onto his lap.

His restless leg stops and he lifts his gaze to yours. Using your free hand, you cup the underside of his jaw, running your thumb across his cheek. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. His voice is still lost to him, and a small frown replaces his face.

"It's okay, I'm here," your words are tender, and the gentle strokes of your thumb across his skin feel good, contrasting the burning of his face. Rafe continues to answer with his silence and you decide to fill in the gaps, recounting how you spent your day. How you were preparing tamales for the upcoming church mass, how you cut chilis from your own backyard garden, how your abuelita added so much spices you had to beg her to crank open the backdoor to let some of the smell out.

Rafe listens as the words cascade out, carefree and smooth, and how your descriptions of mundane activities still captivate him. He could listen to you talk for hours.

You inform him that you missed him. That, after finishing the last batch, the first thing you were going to do was call him. But he came anyway. It's like he knew you wanted him here. That he can read your soul from miles away.

The last comment you made was meant to let him feel at peace. To let him know that he was never a bother to you—now or ever. That you, with your whole heart, will always want him.

It broke off a piece of his walls. His heart swells with your trust and you grin, running your thumb across his jaw to feel the short pricks of his fresh shave. You sigh lovingly, burying yourself into the crook of his neck. "Amor de mi vida."

Rafe recognizes those words. You've said them before, and after constant badgering, he finally learned of its meaning: love of my life.

God, he truly doesn't deserve you.

For the new few minutes, there's nothing but the stillness of your bedroom. The soft sounds of your breaths, the slow thumping of Rafe's pulse in his chest, steady and calming. Your eyes briefly close from the rhythmic beats.

Finally, he confesses. "I'm fucked up."

You don't pull away from your position, curled up in his arms—as if you were the one in need of comfort instead—and wait for him to continue. You knew he always talks better without the scrutiny of a gaze. "Why would you say that?"

His hand grazes your waist, squeezing, needing to feel you. To know you're real. His next words come out with a sharp exhale. "Because I'm a fuck-up. Everyone thinks that. Even my dad said so."

You scoff.

"That pendejo doesn't know anything, okay?" You declare, a subtle bite behind your emphasis. You're always soft and gentle, with him and everyone else, but there's a side of protectiveness that comes out whenever you hear how Ward treats his son. You pull back enough to meet his gaze, using both hands to cup his face. "I know you. And believe me when I say that's absolutely not true."

Even though he trusts you, he doesn't agree.

"You're only saying that because you love me."

"And I'll keep saying it until you believe it," your tone goes delicate, wishing he could see himself through your eyes. "You deserve so much more, mi amor."

The conviction behind your words fizzles out any of his remaining arguments. It's always easy for Rafe to doubt himself, to see all his mistakes as an atrocity committed to humankind. How could he not? He grew up hearing it said by the one person he loves most.

But not you. Never by you.

His hand captures your profile, warm palm pressed against his cheek. "You're too good for me."

You smile. "I think I'm just right."

Rafe feels lighter. Better. Real. He can't believe your simple presence dissolves all the things he hates about himself. When he sees the way you look at him, with this pure, unadulterated love, he knows he will stop at nothing to preserve it.

Rafe draws you closer, slowly, steadily, until you're nothing but a breath away. His darkened blue eyes trace your features before landing on your lips. Your heart stutters and, with a brief hesitance, Rafe leans forward to kiss you.

Gently at first, as if to taste your air, before deepening it. His hand falls to your waist while your arms loop around his shoulders. His fingers splay over your warm skin, grabbing the soft plump flesh, and causing a quiet moan to slip out of you.

He feels good. You feel good. You know where this leads and before it can proceed any further, you shut the door.

Rafe watches as you return to his lap. "Your mom's gonna kill you for that."

"Yeah," you smile teasingly, "so let's make it worth it then."

Pulling off your tank top, revealing your bare tits underneath, Rafe sheds his shirt. His eyes follow the dip between the valley of your breasts before capturing a nipple between his teeth, grazing the sensitive bub, making you arch into him.

"Rafe," you gasp, threading your fingers through his tousled hair. "That feels good."

He loves hearing how he makes you feel, reveling in your praises. Moving to the other breast, Rafe takes his time to drag out your pleasure, teeth pinching the sensitive tip in a manner that intensifies the ache between your legs.

You're going greedy. Mind blurred with a lustful haze, you pull back slightly, separating from his mouth, and Rafe pouts at the loss of contact. The image makes you giggle and when you sweep your hand across his heated skin, you mumble in sweet reminder, "This is supposed to be about you."

"Me making you feel good is enough for me," Rafe whispers and a flame licks its way up your naval, making your reservation harder to control. He delivers another kiss against your swollen lips. "Please, baby."

"No," you shake your head, lowering your hands to mess with the buckle of his belt. His erection presses directly against your core. "I want to make you feel good first."

Refusing to take no for an answer, Rafe takes your wrists and throws them back around his neck, pulling you into another deep kiss. This time, it conveys more urgency and desperation, needing to taste you and feel you flush against his chest.

Instinctively, you roll your hips over his bulge, causing a groan to slip out from him. The low rasp that comes from the back of his throat drives you wild that you part from his lips to deliver hard kisses along the curve of his neck, sucking his sensitive spots, just for a chance to hear it again.

"Fuck, baby," Rafe grunts, feeling his cock twitch beneath you. His hands descend to claim your hips. "Keep doing that, just like that—fuck, that's a good girl."

Rafe's loud. Always has been, that you had to slap a hand over his mouth, muffling the noise from reaching your family downstairs. His dark brows wrinkle in surprise, but with one clever rock of your hips, his eyes roll to the back of his head, forgetting your gag.

Noises escaping through the slits of your fingers, you're losing your restraint with each roll. Thighs burning, you persist, separating from his neck to ask, "Do you feel good?"

He nods, eyes glazed over with lust and need, and a whimper escapes when you grind against his hard-on just right.

"Baby, you know anything with you feels good to me," Rafe compliments under your palm, before gently pulling your hand away and delivering chaste kisses behind your ear, making your eyes flutter shut and your hips go faster. Wanting him deeper. "God, you're killing me here."

He needs you. He needs to be inside you.

Having enough, Rafe wraps a strong arm around your waist before flipping you over, causing you to gasp. He pins your back against the mattress as he settles on top, quickly stripping you of your pants and panties. When he has you completely bare, he reels back to admire your naked perfection.

"You're so fucking beautiful, baby, you know that?"

You blush, "You always say that."

"Because I mean it," Rafe declares earnestly, lowering himself to your level. His voice drops to a delicate whisper. "How do you say beautiful in Spanish?"

Dios mío, he can't get any more perfect.

You mumble the translated word in his ear and he repeats it back, full of conviction, with an American accent that slices through the letters. "Did I say it right?"

"Sí," you land a soft peck on his lips, causing his smile to grow, eyes bright.

Rafe descends, planting wet kisses on the valley between your breasts, to the space under your naval, to the open spread of your inner thighs. Each kiss complimented with the accented hermosa rolling off his tongue, reminding every inch of you is a sight for worship.

When he enters the space between your legs, Rafe places a sweet, lingering kiss against your dripping slit, the sensitivity of your body causing you to arch upwards, into his face.

His laugh is soft but taunting. "Need me, baby?"

"Por favor, Rafe, please," you whimper, craving him so desperately, that you draw him back up into a hungry kiss, tasting your arousal on his lips. Heat spreads through your core, needing stimulation.

Rafe fucking loves kissing you, capturing your bottom pout between his teeth and tugging it with a sweet pull. His free hand roams down to your cunt, fingers entering you with a slow and steady pump.

"You're so wet for me," Rafe teases with a whisper, swallowing your moans with a hard kiss, and quickening his pace until the sound of squelching is heard throughout the small room.

Your hips buck. "It feels so good, mi amor," you moan, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure. "Please don't stop. Please, please, don't."

"I couldn't if I tried," Rafe laughs with a tinge of condescension, his thumb rotating small circles over your swollen clit. "Baby, you're clenching around me so hard, I don't even think I can pull out."

"Don't you dare," you grab onto his arm, the one between your thighs, holding him in place and needing some sense of stability. The familiar tightness in your stomach coils and your legs shake. "Rafe."

Encouraged by your needy voice, he goes faster, pumping you, rubbing you, till you're pushed over your edge, and that thin line of restraint snaps. His free hand slaps over your mouth to cover your erupted moan, just as Rafe slows down, guiding you through your climax.

When you come down from your high, Rafe pulls out, the loss of his fingers makes you whimper. The sound itself makes him impossibly more hard, and he needs to be in you, now.

Landing another kiss on your lips, your eyes flutter open from exhaustion. "You gonna take care of me now, baby?" Rafe whispers, gaze flicking across your face to read your willingness.

You nod, and he flips you over on your stomach before hauling your ass in the air. He slips out of his boxers, red and swollen, dripping with beads of pre-cum, and pumps a couple of shots before spreading your knees apart.

Your heart is hammering when he slips it in, tip teasing your wet entrance before sliding through your folds, and a hiss escapes from Rafe's throat. "You're so fucking tight, baby," Rafe groans, filling you to the hilt. "So fucking good for me."

His thrusts start slow, your walls enveloping him in such a tight vice, that he has to move with precision, or else he'll come in seconds. Rough hands find your hips, guiding his movements, and the muscles in his thighs flex with each pump.

"My perfect girl," Rafe whispers in your ear, each roll of his hips punctuated by a heavy breath fanning against your cheek, "too good for me. Too fucking good."

Your hand flattens over his profile, his chin digging into your shoulder blades. With one hand up to grope your breast, Rafe fucks you harder, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

"Harder," you demand, and Rafe obliges, his fingers toying with your sensitive nipple, his penetration hitting your g-spot. A moan slips out of you once more, mind numb with pleasure. "Dios mío, yes."

Wrapped up in your own chase, both of your heavy breaths saturating the air, you didn't even hear that your mother was calling you.

You still as the familial Spanish alert you that dinner is ready, and to come downstairs. But you're still mid-thrust, the embers of your climax just within the horizon, and your fervent desire sizzles out.

Rafe stiffens behind you, halting to a stop, waiting for her voice to flatten out into oblivion before starting again. Rolling his hips. Controlling his thrusts. His speed quickens.

"Rafe," you whimper, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure but knowing you have other business to attend to. "We have to go."

He shakes his head, "Not until you come."

"Mi amor, please," you moan, just as he lands a hard thrust, and you attempt to pull away.

But Rafe won't have it.

"Why are you arguing with me?" He grunts, grabbing your throat and hauling your back against his chest. His strokes are erratic and passionate, bottoming out with each pump. "I thought you wanted to make me feel good."

You're losing your senses. Your walls flutter around his cock and you cry out. "I–I do."

His head lowers till his lips are right next to the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning against your skin. "Then let me fill you up."

That does it for you, and you finally snap. Another orgasm crashes into you, so powerful and sharp, that Rafe uses his free hand to cover your mouth and muffle your loud moans.

Your walls clench around him and his thrusts go faster, harder, more desperate, until his own orgasm rolls over, his hot cum spurting, filling you up.

Both of you fall onto the mattress, with heavy breaths, eyes closing shut for recovery. Nothing but the sound of harsh breathing is heard throughout the air, and Rafe's fingers trace up your spine before collecting a strand of your hair.

You wish you could stay like this forever, in this moment, nothing but the separation of skin, but reality quickly shatters your bubble when the locked handle of your door rattles.

Your mother's Spanish comes through quick. In warning. In threats. She's coming up with vivid imagery about what she will do if she catches something inappropriate in your bedroom, promising a chase with chanclas.

You have no energy in you to come up with an excuse, grabbing a nearby pillow off your bed and throwing it over your head. "I'm going to die," you mumble into the plush, and Rafe chuckles, consoling you with delicate patterns against your backside.

"I'll protect you," Rafe promises, lowering himself to plant a tender kiss behind your shoulder.

"You've never had a Mexican mother before,"

"How bad could it be?"

You remove your pillow to glare at him, but it is half-hearted and you can't stay mad at him for long. The remnants of your mother's threats fade out and she parts with a final warning; yelling at you—and Rafe—to be downstairs in five minutes. That was said in English.

"Come on, baby, let's go," Rafe scoops you up and takes you to your ensuite bathroom, turning on the faucet before helping you clean up.

His hands roam all over, and after both of you are free of the post-sex smell, you find your clothes and quickly redress before heading downstairs.

But just before you descend down the steps, you catch Rafe's bicep, holding him back. He's just a step ahead, leveling your height with his, and your eyes soften as you ask: "Do you feel better, mi amor?"

His smile is soft and gentle, but the buzz in his chest is indescribable. He leans forward to place a kiss on your forehead, before mumbling into your skin, "Always with you."

When you reach the dining table, Rafe makes some bullshit excuse about what took you so long and the reason behind the locked door. It was impressive, enough that your mother eyed you carefully before accepting the lie with a firm nod, gesturing for you to take a seat.

There are cases of tamales over the wooden dining table, each with its separate fillings, and a selection of sauces to choose from, such as red and green salsa, queso fresco, crumbled cotija cheese, and fresh limes with pickled red onions on the side.

The moment Rafe steps foot into the room, your abuelita shoots from her chair to grab a plate, selecting everything off the menu and putting it on his dish. She coos, in quick Spanish, about how Rafe needs to eat more. Adding that she'll take great offense if he doesn't try everything on the table.

Rafe laughs, but nods respectfully, taking the plate from her hands as she resettles. You pluck a dish off the side and start selecting your own choices, picking your favorite types of tamales and sauce.

Independently, Rafe attempts to unwrap his tamale and it falls apart. Your mother laughs, "Mijo, you're supposed to set it on the plate," she instructs, demonstrating how to properly unfold the corn husk. "There! Felicidades! You got it!"

You laugh softly beside him, and he turns his head, meeting your contagious smile with his own grin.

Rafe leans over to watch what you're doing, following the steps of how you usually eat and mimics them himself. When he takes his first bite, your abuelita watches him intensely, waiting, for his following review.

Which has to be a solid 10/10, or else she'll throw a fit.

He agrees, nodding to her brilliance, and your abuelita gestures for him to try the next. He hasn't even finished half of the tamale before she's forcing him to taste-test the other stuffing—from the pork to the chicken, to the vegetarian options she cooked. All of them gaining a raved five-star appraisal from your boyfriend.

And you're laughing at this. So, he is. He's having a grand time with your family, with the way your abuelita is insistent on him eating, on him trying every food she'll ever make, and how your mother refers to him as mijo. While you're trying to eat your dinner, you feel something squeezing your thighs, and you look down to see Rafe's hand connected to it.

You raise a brow, wondering if something happened, if something is wrong, but when he leans over, his lips brushing the curve of your earlobe, he mumbles, in absolute fondness and appreciation, "Te amo."

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

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callooopie · 2 months

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NSWF MODERN CREGAN HEADCANNONS PLZZZZZ💋💋💋

Modern!Cregan Stark headcannons (pt. Smut)

Be like the love that discovered the sin — Be // Hozier

found time to finish this!! I had to take breaks and fan myself when writing this… but that’s what I do for all my writings oops I’m a silly lady who gets flustered too easily >~>

< currently unedited >

aw man guys… Cregan loves shower sex. ‘Cause to him? He’s strong enough to lift you up and press you against the shower wall, and very easy cleanup. At this angle with you held against the wall, Cregan can also watch as he drags his thick cock in and out of your hole. His hands? A firm grip on your ass, arms wrapped around the outside of your thighs as he holds you up. He’ll make you wash his hair in this position, wanting to see your hands shake or tremble as you reach up to lather his hair with shampoo. He was just outside all day, he doesn’t wanna be too dirty touching you.

Cabin is secluded enough to where you two could essentially do anything, inside and outside. Although in my professional opinion, summer mosquitos in Alaska? Hell on Earth. However, a bit of tent action now and then didn’t hurt (the bug bites sure did tho ouchh). It’s just nice being out there with you, a warm campfire going, your warm walls clenching around him as he pounds into you from behind. And you can be as loud as you want too.

I find it hard to think of specifics for Cregan here. Is lazy sex a term for it? You’re not fucking, and it could technically be classified as lovemaking. But really, you’re just talking about your day as you ride him while he sits in one of the chairs on the back porch. A beer in hand of course, his eyes never leaving yours as he listens intently. He has his other hand on your hip, not guiding you, only to hold. Being so comfortable with each other that you can have full on conversations even as you’re bouncing on his cock. There’s no rush to it and you’re both content with stopping, pausing, continuing. At the end of the day, Cregan just wants your skin against his in any way possible. It’s a peaceful feeling, having you and the sounds of nature. And then one or both of you will start to grow impatient, conversation running dry as you focus on chasing your impending orgasm.

Breakfast in bed, giving or receiving. Or both—Cregan would not mind you choking on his dick while he eats you out. But if he wants to wake you up something special like; he’ll be the one to get up first, make you an actual breakfast or just coffee. A refreshment for after. You’re still fast asleep, and the sun’s barely funneling through the early morning clouds. But Cregan will be awake, hovering over you, making sure not to let the blankets slip off of you as he inches himself lower and lower. A kiss pressed to your heart, and then your stomach, another kiss against your womb. And then finally a faint kiss pressed to your clit, followed by many more and a tongue that swirls around the sensitive bud. Tiny kitten licks to start out that are soon followed by long drags of his tongue up between the folds of your cunt. His arms are supposed to be gently wrapped around your thighs, however they lose their gentleness when Cregan starts to lose himself in the taste of your wetness.

If he’s on the receiving end though? Be prepared for his hand to latch onto your hair suddenly. Cregan’s a light sleeper. I feel like he’d have to be if he’s got a type of farm going, ready to respond to any threat or disaster at the drop of a hat—early morning or dead of night. So it doesn’t take long for him to be roused from sleep at the feeling of your tongue running up and down his length. He’s a little lost for a moment, only when he’s coming out of sleep. A tired and grumbled moan coming from him. But when he realizes what’s happening; his hand will grab your hair and force you down onto his cock, loving how your lips feel around him. He’s thick, he’s big, you can barely fit half of him into your mouth. More fun for him, watching you as you struggle and gag around him.

He’ll be more mean about receiving head. When you gag, he’ll make it his “secret” mission to thrust more into your throat. On accident he’ll say. Do not believe such falsities. His large hand will grab your hair, gripping onto your head almost as he shoves your head down. On accident! His hand slipped and got the better of him.

But what he does onto you, can be done onto him. He’s got such nice long hair, yank on it as he eats you out. It’s also nice how you keep his hair out of his way, nothing to interrupt or bother him as he tries to bury his tongue inside of you. Messy eater, so it’s even more important to keep his hair out of his food. He will spread your legs, actively pushing them apart or holding them in a way they can’t budge an inch. Even a twitch in your legs makes him wrap his arms around your thighs tighter.

Top. Even on bottom Cregan’s a top. He’s not a dominant top though. He’ll be nice. He’ll praise and compliment you as you ride him. He is bigger than you, he hopes you can handle him some more. You’re doing well as it is too, despite your complaints of your legs burning and your pace slowing; he’s very, very proud. He’ll get impatient maybe, a firm hand smacking your ass, his tone slightly more stern as he tells you “to get a move on” he’s gotta be up early, and you’re stalling just ‘cause your legs are tired? Fine, he’ll take over for a bit.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan fanfiction #hotd cregan #cregan x you #hotd x reader #cregan smut #cregan x y/n #cregan stark #hotd smut #hotd season 2

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brennustheskeleton · 2 months

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Question about your mosquito Spamton: does he carry diseases like some mosquitoes? Like if I let him take a little sippy would I get Malaria? Asking for perfectly normal reasons

Valentin (or mosquito spamton as you know him) does carry a disease. Though it doesn't get passed on through bites but overconsumption of HIS blood. King Valentin’s blood is corrupted, and the rest of his kingdom feed off of it and crave more of it, becoming more monsterous in the process.

Basically if you consume his blood you begin to crave eating more of it and you become more mosquito like physically.

#drops mosquito lore hehehe #mosquito spamton #more mosquito content #deltarune #spamton g spamton #deltarune chapter 2 #spamton #deltarune spamton #deltarune au #deltarune blood moon au

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skywitchmaja · 2 years

Text

i just took the most batshit collection of blood pressure readings actually i think this cuff thing is just broken

#88 bpm sitting down -> 78 as i’m standing -> 129?!!?! moments later -> 134 to double check -> 85?? the MOMENT i sit down -> 97 ten minutes #later and that’s not even getting into blood pressure which was usually in the #which was uuuuusually in the 115/70 range (pretty normal) got as high as 129/108 and as low as 64/46?????? so there’s no way all these are #accurate #delete later #i don’t come on tumblr to talk about my blood issues but i am just a bit confounded #lol who am i kidding? in the past… week- right? i’ve blogged about a) trying to give blood b) mosquitoes taking my blood #c) my stupid hummingbird heart and d) getting dizzy when i stand up this blog has more blood content than i realized… 🫣

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risuola · 4 months

Text

▶ NEEDY AND SHAMELESS — Satoru was needy and couldn't deal with it himself.

contents: needy, whiny, whimpering Satoru (that's a warning!), college+roommates!au, nsfw, oral (m! receiving), reader discretion is advised — wc. 2585

a/n: dedicated to my dear 🎶 anon for creating the movement #HeadForGojo, love ya! but also, we're diving into dangerous waters with the trio and i'd like to think that the reader is closer physically with Satoru and mentally with Suguru but fear not, spicy Suguru is coming as well!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

You’re not the type to get easily surprised.

Usually.

Living with two boys and knowing them for most of your life had prepared you to expect the unexpected and it was the spontaneity that was at the base of most of your best memories. The impromptu hitchhike travels during which you’d sprawl on top of either of their lap, the tight spaces in which you slept sandwiched between them, the unplanned sleepovers and long, nighttime rides on their motorbikes.

You’ve watched the stars with them, spread-eagled on the dew-sprinkled grass outside the city, talking the nights away while getting eaten alive by mosquitos and you loved every second of it. You’ve survived few days on nothing but instant ramen just so you three could get the best time at the beach without robbing a bank. You didn’t blink twice when Satoru once dragged you into a kissing competition just so you could win a two nights’ stay in one of the most luxurious hotels in Tokyo for all three of you around valentine’s day — you won of course, and after that you partied like royalty, getting drunk with Suguru on expensive champagne (and getting Satoru drunk), and jumping on beds in hotel-branded robes.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” But this time you were flabbergasted. Blinking a little faster, you tried to force the gears in your head to turn and process what you just heard. There was no way he just asked you to—

“Can you suck my dick? Pretty please—”

—never mind. The question sounded just as unexpected as the first time, if not more. There was no reason to it, no background information, no nothing that could make it sound a little less out of place.

“Context?”

Gojo groaned. You watched his cheeks turning bright red, the tips of his ears crimson as well and his hand met his face, covering it, hiding it from your expectant gaze. He was nervous, he was embarrassed and you had no idea what the hell was going on underneath the white mop of fluffy hair, but it wasn’t hard to tell that there was smoke coming out of there. For a short moment you wondered if he’d be able to trigger the fire detectors in the building.

“God, this is so embarrassing. I can’t— fuck.” He stuttered and it was the first time in your life you herd him stumble over his own words. “I really can’t do this with my hand. I just can’t, it doesn’t feel right and I’m so fucking frustrated because I tried to get some girl from the campus to give me a head but I can’t force myself to get hard for them. I somehow go all limp and useless whenever they throw themselves at me and ironically the thought of you makes me so painfully, impossibly bricked up that I might just chop the thing off to feel some release.” He was speaking so quickly it was almost difficult to understand, looking everywhere but at you. His eyes were bouncing off the walls and furniture, windows and ceiling but not once settled on you.

“And you want me to get you off?” You questioned, making sure that you understand his rumble correctly and the moment you spoke, Satoru finally stopped fidgeting and froze. His gaze slowly made its way towards you and his breath hitched, his heart pounded in his chest, his whole body tensed up. His mouth opened and closed, and then opened again but nothing came out. It took him a good ten seconds to find his voce, and even then, it came out as barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said simply, the single word hung heavy between you. His hands were in the pockets of his sweatpants, fingers curling around something — maybe a coin, maybe his own sanity; knuckles turning white from the strain as he took another deep breath. “I know we’re friends and roommates and all sorts of things that should make this a terrible idea but, I swear to all gods out there, it’s not about me wanting you to get me off, it’s about me needing you to get me off.” He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat threatening to choke him. This was so wrong, so incredibly bad and yet, here he was, practically begging you to touch him. To taste him. To swallow him whole. “I know it’s weird and fucked up and probably a huge mistake, but I don’t know what else to do here.”

You saw the vulnerability in those cerulean orbs, the raw honesty behind his confession. The desperation in his voice almost broke your heart, he looked like he’s about to pass out from sheer exhaustion — emotional, mental, physical; every kind imaginable, and you knew him. It wasn’t one of his whims, you can see through them in a blink of an eye. He was serious, he was trembling, his eyes seemed to well with tears as he begged you.

“Does it come from the day you asked me to judge your cock?”

“Yeah, I guess so. You said I make you salivate and fuck, the vision stuck with me.”

And then, he dropped onto the bed, sitting on the edge with elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. He swallowed thickly, gulping down the lump in his throat. He hated the thought of ruining what you had as friends, it terrified him.

“Satoru—” you let out a sigh and he flinched, straightening up and looking at you again.

"I'll do anything. I can eat you out after that to pay you back. I can clean the room for a month. Fuck, I can even give you money if you need it. I'm just fucking going to combust if it goes for any longer–“ He rambled, babbled, desperate to get his point across. "I'm so impossibly hard when you're around, it hurts and every time I try to get my shit together, it's just getting worse."

“You don’t have to pay me back, Toru,” you said lightly, laughing at his nervousness. “I love you, idiot, I’m not gonna let you suffer, though I warn you that I might suck at this, no pun intended.”

“You don’t even have to use your mouth, honestly, if it’s your hand I’m sure it’s still going to be fine, as long as it’s you.”

“Oh, no, if we’re doing this, you’re getting the proper, sloppy, messy head,” you teased and he nearly moaned. The very thought of your mouth wrapping around him almost made him cum in his pants.

His cheeks heated up, all of his body felt like it’s on fire and he loved the feeling. You were straightforward; there was never any pretense or games played between you and him and he adored that about you.

“Please,” he whimpered, paralyzed by the thrill of excitement. The nerves were churning in his stomach, ecstasy coursing through him like electricity through wires. He watched as you moved, putting down the phone, there was a grace in the way you were crawling to the edge of the bed and you made a little sound when you got down onto the floor. He was quick to grab a pillow to throw below your knees, and you shot him a little grin.

It felt odd to you, to kneel in front of your best friend like this with intention so explicit but you also felt at ease with it. It wasn’t pity that drove you, you just loved him genuinely and there was no forcing involved in the way your hands moved to give his thighs a little squeeze.

You chuckled, amused by how sensitive he was, how impatient when just the slightest touch of your fingers over his clothed legs was enough to make him jolt. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and as your eyes moved down from his face, you noticed how strained his cock was against the fabric of his pants. There was a tiny dark spot where his tip was underneath, precum soaking through the grey sweats and you leaned in, flicking your tongue over the cotton, teasing him and he moaned.

“Sweets, please, have mercy. Mochi, I beg you–“ he was a whimpering mess, he was flushed, his chest was heaving and you touched him just barely, through the clothes.

“Oh, patience Toru,” you grinned, reaching up and hooking your fingers over the waistband of his pants. The elastic snapped against his stomach, making him whine and you acted innocent as if you didn’t do it on purpose.

“I’d love to be patient but keep it going and I might just bust in my pants and then die,” he dramatized; his knuckles were turning white from the sheer force he was squeezing the sheets behind him.

Finally, you pulled on the band, taking both pants and underwear at once and his manhood sprung free. The tip hit his stomach, leaving a droplet of seed on his light skin and he twitched as the cool air hit his sensitive flesh. The sight of him made you swallow, the saliva gathering at your mouth because he did look delicious and yet again you were reassured at the belief that god has his favorites.

Dragging your nails across his thighs, you reached to wrap your fingers around him, feeling his weight against your palm and the girth you struggled to embrace at once. You stroked him few times, experimentally, and it made him writhe and fidget, with the whiniest of moans. Satoru felt like he’s going to go crazy, your touch was gentle yet firm and it sent sparks shooting up his spine. He bit his lip to stifle another moan, his hips bucked into your hand involuntarily, seeking more friction. Despite his best efforts to maintain control, he couldn’t help but squirm beneath your touch.

“Be a good boy,” you warned playfully, leaning in, and savoring the moan that broke his apology when you run your tongue along the curved underside of his dick, the veins there felt prominent against the flat of your muscle. The kiss you planted on the tip of it was almost tender, gentle; the salty taste of precum mixed with your own saliva when you twirled your tongue around him.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” he managed to gasp out between his clenched teeth, his eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure surged through him. He could feel the heat, the tension coiling within him and he swallowed thickly. The sensation of your mouth was unlike anything he had ever experienced before and he felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head when you took him in. Satoru’s whole world narrowed down to the feel of your mouth on him — so wet and warm and wonderful — enveloping his cock in a velvety embrace that had him seeing stars. Your tongue was hot and slick, gliding expertly over his throbbing length. Each lick, each suck had him writhing in pleasure and he barely managed to hold his hips down, to not thrust them deeper into the dreamy embrace between your lips.

The mixture of precum and your saliva was coating his cock, dribbling down his length and your chin. Messy. You were bobbing your head up and down his length, taking more and more of him sloppily. You were greedy, your movements like a dance to an unknown melody with the main dancers being your tongue and his member. You were twirling, tasting, teasing him mercilessly. Your cheeks were hollowing and your nose meeting the few white hairs at the base as you took him deeper and deeper and he was moaning. Shamelessly, loudly and oh so sweetly.

“Swee–mhaah–‘m gonn—” he stuttered, whined, tried to warn you but the words came out incoherent and stretched along the sounds that were ripping through him. His heart pounded in his chest, a wild rhythm that matched the rapid beat of pulse in his veins. Satoru felt his body tensing, one of his legs bouncing as tried to keep himself from shooting his load into your mouth.

Panting, heavily, shakingly, he watched you below him. You looked pretty like this, so drop dead gorgeous and straight out a fantasy that he’s been pushing to the back of his mind for the longest time now. Truth is, he wanted you, needed you much more than a friend would long for a friend, but he was too scared to act on it.

You hummed, the vibrations of your vocal cords pushing him near the edge, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his balls. His cock throbbed in your mouth, leaking precum that coated your tongue with its salty sweetness and he squealed, reaching to grab your head, your hair, to pull you away before he—

A loud, lewd mewl cut through the room and Gojo’s body went rigid as wave after wave of pure, carnal pleasure washed over him. He saw fireworks underneath his eyelids, he felt them exploding inside his veins, and he exploded too. The feel of your mouth sent him spiraling right into climax, speeding with no brakes and he was delighted. His cock twitched, pulsed with each spurt of cum and his entire body trembled with ecstasy, head tilted back, spine arched and mouth agape.

Joyful. He felt so utterly, unapologetically joyful.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him, leaving him panting and spent in their wake. He looked down again, catching the sight of you lapping at his cum, licking him clean and he finally went limp, falling back onto the bed with a weak, gleeful moan.

“Fuck… that was… oh god,” he panted, his blue eyes glazed oved with delight. His chest was raising and falling rapidly, each breath coming in short gasps as he struggled to regain control of his senses but he didn’t want to. He wished to bask in the afterglow a little more, a little longer.

You finished the job with a loud pop as you took him out of your mouth and finally let go. He was softening, his body deflating, relaxing and you took it as the job well done. Once fixing his underwear and sweats, you climbed back onto the bed and dropped next to him, taking in the sight of his flushed face and disheveled hair. He looked angelic, with teary eyes and parted, swollen lips, glistening from saliva. You committed the picture to memory.

“Good?” You asked, though the answer was obvious from the way he looked.

“Heavenly,” he panted out and turned his head towards you. He watched as you reached up to the corner of your lips, thumb wiping off the lone drop of cum that lingered there and he grabbed you gently, pulling it to his own mouth. You chuckled when he sucked on your digit, his warm tongue circling it precisely as his mouth enveloped it whole.

“Nasty,” you teased and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Look who’s talking,” he played back, his words muffled over your finger before he finally let go of your hand. A string of saliva stretched from the tip of it and to his mouth but he licked it off like a kitten. “Thank you, mochi.”

“You’re welcome,” you offered him a smile and got off the bed, heading towards the bathroom. “You’re cleaning for a month by the way!”

He whined and you laughed.

taglist: @kibananya @r0ckst4rjk @rixo-19 @soraya-daydreams@hyun0200 @ilykii @roscpctals99 @mushkasstuff @siimp4youu @juicedcherry @themoreeviltwin @stevenknightmarc @ms5m1th @local-mr-frog @minimorale @lansy-4 @dancer545 @lordbugs @tojislittleprincesss

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chevelleneech · 1 month

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I’ve seen people focusing on Jimin and Jungkook possibly showering together, and while I did have that passing thought, I don’t care to make a post about it.

What I want to talk about, is how it wasn’t the shower topic that got my attention as a “couple” thing. Instead, it was how they made joint decisions on whether or not they’d eat late, as well as how they didn’t go to bed until both were ready.

Yes, one could argue they were hanging out and both got tired at the same time, but Jungkook was already tired. He left the pool first because he was ready to go relax. He told Jimin he didn’t want to eat, both because he “ate too much” but also because he was ready to relax. He even said, “Wait until after you shower to see if you’re still hungry.” Which Jimin decided he wasn’t, but the point is, they made joint decisions that entire time.

Jungkook was done with the pool, so they both got out. JK didn’t want to eat, so JM didn’t end up eating. They showered, then even though Jimin decided he was in fact too tired to eat, he still didn’t go up to bed. He plopped down right beside Jungkook, who was also tired yet didn’t go up to bed, and they sat watching JK’s dance footage and whatever else, until Jungkook decided he was officially tired-tired and ready to sleep. Then they both went up to bed, and talked or otherwise winded down for the remainder of the night in the same bed, before Jungkook moved to the extra.

That to me was the most JiminAndJungkook thing I feel like I’ve seen them do, in the way it’s been said to us over the years that when you see one you see the other. They gravitate toward one another so naturally, that I’m super curious if either of them noticed it in their earlier days? Because I feel like the people around them definitely did. Hell, watching their old content back, you see it on a certain level, but you’d think they’d outgrow it, you know?

Not outgrow their friendship, but the attachment they appear to have for each other. Their footage from back in the day feels like watching two people find their footing through a butterflies-in-my-stomach-puppy-love situation. Now, when they get this way, it feels like I’m intruding on their downtime as a couple.

Idk. Maybe I’m not explaining it well, but I liked that “Jikook moment” more than any else before it. They seemed so comfortable and relaxed, and their actions came across as very routine. They play around, shower, decide if they’re going to eat, cozy up and watch videos/work/talk, then go to bed. So normal. Also, so familiar to how Jimin describes what they do when JK woukd show up at his room be-it when they were at the dorm or years later in hotels.

Last little observation: them playing in the pool also makes me think about the hickey/bite story. They weren’t drinking, but between how playful they get when it’s just the two of them, as well as how rough they can be (mosquito net!)… it makes all the sense in the world how Jimin ended up with his mouth on Jungkook’s neck. They have zero normal-guys-who-are-friends boundaries, lol.

#jikook

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magneto-was-fucking-right · 1 year

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Envy (Part 1)

Summary: Simon Riley's sleep is rudely interrupted by the commotion coming from next door, and this time, curiosity (and horniness) gets the best of him. Pairing: König x Reader (x Ghost) Word Count: 2.5k

Content Warnings: Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it!); Perv! behaviour (voyeurism); degrading vocabulary.

Read part 2 here

It was three in the morning.

He knew that because he had checked his digital watch every two minutes during his agitated “rest” in the musty sleeping bag, spread across the filthy floor. He couldn’t sleep. The heat of the middle eastern countries didn’t quite affect him anymore, years of experience on the field forcing his body to grow accustomed to the ridiculous temperatures he had never experienced in England before. The mosquitoes couldn’t bother him either, since he seldom exposed his skin, his face covered with a light-material skull balaclava. His stiff shoulders and hardened back sometimes felt damaged beyond repair from the numerous nights spent on hardwood or concrete floors, a soft patch of dirt and grass if he was lucky, but his aching muscles weren’t the reason for his troubled sleep.

The continuous bang of the bed’s headboard against the wall was. And so were her moans. Simon Riley felt as he if was quickly spiraling into insanity as he shut his eyes tightly and feverishly tried to ignore the mattress’ springs, the slap of skin against skin, and the worst part of it, his desperate moans. He always felt a deep, sickening rage towards the Austrian soldier, as his pathetic little whines and obedient pleas echoed through the walls, begging her for more. More kisses, more skin, more wandering hands through her naked flesh and supple breasts. More pressure on her hand as she palmed him through his fatigues, or as she jerked off his length coated in her spit. Nasty slut, he thought bitterly every time he heard her dirty words, commanding him to comply to her fantasies “like a good boy”. He was angry when he heard her seduce him in the safehouse once more. He was furious because he knew she must do it on purpose. She had to. There was no way she didn’t when she knew Simon would be sleeping right next door, that she was a loud fuck and so was he, because who wouldn’t be loud when she was riding it that good and that deep. She wanted him to hear it. She wanted him to think and dream about it. Simon was sure of it.

And therefore, when he had gotten in his sleeping bag to prepare for a few hours of rest, he hadn’t even tried to fall asleep because he knew it would happen again. She always used the same tactics with König: she went for a shower in the old house’s low pressure tepid water and a bar of Dove soap that Simon definitely hadn’t sneaked a whiff from before, making it clear that he was to watch her six. But he always got to watch more than that, as she usually left the door open. Simon knew this because he had once heard the naïve colonel warn her that she had forgotten to lock it, to which she had responded only with an amused giggle. How stupid can he be, Simon had grinded his teeth throughout the whole interaction. Then, as the door to the room was closed in a very clear failed attempt at some sort of privacy, the smothered laughter began, followed by unclear mumblings in German, and soon enough, sighs and whimpers. He folded so easily, Simon thought. He tried to convince himself that he wouldn’t have, that he would’ve given her a harder time trying to get him laid. That he would make her beg him to fuck her before he even took her clothes off.

But the truth was, every time one of her delicious moans travelled through the walls, or a slightly opened door, he was immediately fighting back a raging boner that ached to be relieved through her touch. It was once again the case. He palmed himself through his pants in the sleeping bag, cursing them out as he wondered how long they would take this time. Usually, König came rather quickly. Loudly too. Sometimes inside, sometimes on her tits and her open mouth (he knew this was her favorite because it made her moan like a whore the entire time), and sometimes on himself, as she forced him to run his fingers over his soiled abdomen and suck them clean. What a pathetic fuck, he thought.

He knew she was riding him this time because she always set a frantic pace, that despite her best efforts didn’t match the speed to which the Austrian could plow into her from bellow if he wished to. Bang, bang, bang, bang – the poor wall kept being beaten over and over again, and he heard his usual plea.

“Please Schatz, I can’t hold it for much longer.”

“Of course you can König, you’re such a good boy.” She grunted in between panting, the wet slaps slowing down to a passionate grind.

Simon gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to peek, because maybe, just maybe…he had carved a hole with his knife in the weak cement wall that morning in preparation, just small enough to provide him with a little tease if the two lovers decided to get down and dirty once again. It’s so wrong, he fought himself mentally. Fucking hell, what’s wrong with me?

But all he could think about were the sounds of humanity’s most primal, animalistic instincts that flooded from next door and clouded his mind in a sex-drunken haze of languid desire. I need to see. Just once, just out of curiosity, and then I’ll be able to sleep, he tried to convince himself as he roughly got up from the sleeping bag and carefully moved to the area of the wall where he had shaped the peephole. He felt his cock twitch in his briefs, painfully hard.

There she was, sat on top of him in full glory, her round breasts on his face as he suckled on both of her nipples at the same time, his large hands pushing the fat of her tits together. Simon didn’t know where to look at first. His mind couldn’t quite process the wholeness of her fully naked body, at last obtaining answers to the curious questions of his lustful mind: as he had so often wondered about, her body was deliciously curvy and supple, her pubis covered in soft curls trimmed to perfection and her wet cunt sunk halfway König’s large cock. He could see scars in her abdomen and right shoulder, most likely old combat wounds that she had luckily gotten away with. Her hair was messy from the Austrian’s passionate touches, giving her a natural erotic aura that seemed to linger all around her and the way she moved so confidently on top of him. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin gleaming with sweat from the physical effort of both riding König and taking the slightly painful stretch of his thick shaft. Simon had to give it to him, the man was built like a fucking Greek god, with firm muscles all the way down to his navel. Her hands roamed his body freely and it seemed to make her feral: once she reached his perfectly built abdomen she bit her lip, pushing him away from her breasts and forcing him to lay flat on his back once again, before returning to her killer pace.

“Break is over big guy. Your face looks too good to be hiding in my tits.” He whimpered at her comment, blushing profusely as her breasts bounced on top of him once again, now covered in his own saliva.

“I-I won’t last, Schatz.” He warned, breathing heavily and holding on to her hips for dear life.

Ghost couldn’t take his eyes off her, dipping his hand on his briefs and slowly pumping himself to the view.

A mischievous smirk spread across her angelic features as she rode him faster, bringing him to the brink of a bed shattering orgasm, “Yes you will, my sweet.” She observed his face attentively, looking for the little nose scrunch he did every time he was about to cum. It was much easier to know now that he was comfortable enough to leave the hood that usually covered his face right next to the pile of his clothes. Once she saw it, she halted her actions completely, pulling herself off him, disconnecting their bodies and making him grunt in frustration. “Sei ein guter Junge, König” (Be a good boy, König), she commanded, making his cock twitch as he heard his native tongue.

Simon’s insides were burning with envy, wishing he would be given the chance to correct her bratty attitude, dominating her into submission. How he longed to sink into her slowly, feeling the warmth and wetness of her cunt, stretching her open inch by inch until she was a moaning and begging mess. His hand moved faster on his cock, but for now, all he could do was watch as she kissed the Austrian passionately on the lips, before moving down his body slowly, a trail of wet kisses all the way from his neck, which she had filled with hickeys and love bites, to his groin, his cock twitching against her cheek.

“If I put you in my mouth, will you behave and not cum until I tell you to?” She teased, holding his fat cock in one hand and gently cradling his heavy balls with the other. Simon gritted his teeth once again, fighting the urge to reply “Yes” himself.

“Ja Schatz. I promise, I do, I promise.” König’s eyes were shut, most likely trying to think of unerotic things that would help him hold on for a little longer, but once her tongue gave a wet lick from his balls all the way to the tip of the head he was done for, whimpering in pleasure as she worked the best sloppy blowjob of his life.

Simon pumped himself so much harder now at the sight of her head bobbing up and down as she progressively took more and more of the man’s cock, that he was fighting his own orgasm, bound to happen at any moment. He watched as she languidly sucked on König’s pink tip like a lollipop, saliva running down his veiny shaft and coating her chin and lips, as she hummed with her eyes closed.

“You taste like me” She moaned, since he had been inside of her only a few minutes ago. König moaned as she deepthroated him expertly, chocking slightly on his girth, tears in her eyes as she went all the way to the base, before coming back up and coughing. He fisted the sheets roughly and mumbled gibberish in German as she repeated the process over and over again, interrupting it only to suck on his balls once and again, making sure they weren’t neglected.

“I-I’m gonna…” He interjected, forcefully holding her hand away from his shaft as he almost came without permission. She removed her mouth from his cock, smirking.

“I won’t torture you any longer, baby. You’ve been so good to me today. I’ll let you cum, but inside of me.” She whispered softly and Simon’s body shuddered involuntarily as he watched, trying to hold off his climax. He felt as flustered and horny as when he watched his first porno, almost completely overwhelmed by his instincts that wouldn’t allow him to think properly.

And then something unexpected happened. She looked right at him through the hole in the wall. Simon held his breath, his heart racing as he halted his movements, his hand still inside his briefs. She can’t possibly see me. He reasoned with himself. They had the small light on the nightstand on, but the room in which Simon “slept” in was in total darkness. He had positioned the peephole very carefully, in a part of the wall with several other smaller holes that the safehouse had sustained from its abandonment. How had she noticed?

He was frozen in place, and she smiled innocently, before laying belly down on the bed, faced turned to him and her round ass perked up in the air. She sucked on her fingers softly, with her eyes closed, before spitting on them and moving her hand back, coating her folds generously to make sure she was well lubricated once again. Simon couldn’t breathe as König moved behind her, sinking back into her with the weak whimper of a man desperate for release. Simon restarted his movements on his cock, staring back at her eagerly, as if in a trance. He could see every change of her expression, every scrunch of her nose and tremble of her lips as the Austrian rammed her from behind roughly (still not roughly enough for his taste, but he couldn’t exactly go on giving him instructions from behind the wall). She moaned and whimpered and screamed, the depraved sounds of wet skin slapping as König’s heavy balls hit her clit with every slam of their hips.

Ghost let out a shaky breath as he was close too, and strangely enough, seeing her face contort in pleasure was getting him off much harder than seeing the way her ass recoiled with the power of König’s strokes, his large hands tightly secured against her hips. Her eyes still looked so innocent, even as she arched her back like a slut and drool fell from open mouth as she rode her cock-drunken haze.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” She cried out, her eyes tightly shut as her hand moved to rub her clit quickly as König pulled on her hair softly “Don’t stop!” she whimpered in a broken voice as she felt him hit that sweet spot inside of her. Simon felt sweat dribble on his forehead under the balaclava, his wrist aching from his continuous ministrations. König let out a deep guttural moan as he felt her clench around him, her body shuddering uncontrollably as she orgasmed, her cunt squeezing his cock and milking him for all he got. She let out a muffled scream as she buried her face on her bed sheets. Simon couldn’t contain a low moan as he felt himself soil his pants, a ridiculous amount of white, sticky fluid pooling in his briefs and soaking though his pants. König had come at the same time, his pace faltering as his hips slammed against her two more times before he buried himself as deep as possible and moaned loudly, feeling his warm seed fill her to the brim. He lay his body on top of hers momentarily, kissing the top of her head tenderly and then her back.

When she finally opened her eyes, still panting and recovering from the high, she looked at the hole again, smiling mischievously. She got on her knees, turning to König, behind her, and kissing him softly, purposefully arching her back slightly and allowing Simon the perfect view of her spent pussy, still swollen and dripping cum onto her thighs. His hand pressed harshly against the wall. How he wished he could’ve been the one making that mess. How he wished he could be the one to ruin her.

As it turned out; he wouldn’t have to wait very long…

A/N: you guys wouldn't believe how many imagines I have on my laptop that I'm either too lazy to finish or don't consider good enough to post :'). I'm trying to get my work out there more often so you guys get to enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Do reblog if you can and let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the two upcoming parts, which will include smut with Ghost x reader and finally Ghost x reader x Konig!

#ghost cod #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig call of duty #ghostxreader #ghost smut #konig smut #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig x reader x ghost

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thedomesticanthropologist · 9 months

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Astarion never felt full. Vampires tend not to, unending blood thirst being a well known aspect of their condition, but he wasn't JUST hungry due to his condition

He was starved. Then, through "food", he was tortured.

You cannot die from being starved when you are undead. Starvation cannot kill a corpse. We see this in his year of isolation. We see this in the 7000 Spawn locked in the dungeons without a drop of blood fed to a single one of them since their capture.

What Astarion WAS fed, was putrid rats and bugs. Lets stsrt with the rats. Putrid.

"Putrid" refers to something that is decomposed, rotten, or emitting a foul and unpleasant odor. It is often used to describe decaying organic matter or anything that has undergone significant deterioration.

This would have taken effort to produce on Cazadors part. Rats are easy to come by, with his labyrinthine temple beneath an expansive estate. To gather a rat is an easy thing. He has many servants. To gather a putrid, rotten animal is another. This would require gathering the animals via trap, letting them rot for days, and then providing them to Astarion. They could have been caught in droves, or a few at a time and laid out in the kitchens or pantries or within the closets to be gathered as a treat-meets-torment for the Spawn, but it required FORETHOUGHT and TIME. Animals do not /rot/ in a day.

Then there is bugs. The type of bug you'd expect to find within the kennels of the mansion would be your fairly typical selection of Ants, Spiders, Beetles, Flies, Silverfish, Mosquitoes, Centipedes, Cockroaches.

Each of these has up to a few MICRO LITRES of blood, which would be accessed by biting them and sucking on their entire corpse until you've got what you can get out of them. the amount of blood in these small insects is typically not enough for a human to taste. Vampire Spawn? Hard to say.

The feeding of these creatures to Cazadors Spawn would be for the purpose of torture alone, in my opinion. There is no way that they would provide relief or sustenance in any meaningful way. The rats, depending on their freshness (which I would argue was sometimes more or less fresh depending on when it was caught) would be the primary source of "reward/hunger suppression", and the bugs something eaten due to sheer desperation.

Let's look at rats and decomp now!

The blood of a decomposing rat undergoes changes as part of the decomposition process. Initially, bacterial and enzymatic activity breaks down the blood, and its nutritional content diminishes. The precise timing can vary based on environmental conditions, such as temperature and humidity.

As decomposition progresses, the breakdown of organic matter continues, and any remaining nutrients in the blood become less accessible and less nutritious. It's challenging to pinpoint an exact timeframe, as it depends on various factors influencing the decomposition rate.

This means that if served a particularly rotten rat, Astarion could very well face the reality of its poisoned, rotten blood providing him with NOTHING beyond disgusting flavor. Keeping in mind this is all based on guesswork about how Vampire Spawn can obtain what they need to sustain themselves based on nutrition alone, when there's evidence its also *life force* that they absorb from their victims, which also would not be available in a dead victim/animal

And then suddenly, after 200 years of this, 200 years of having to fuck the food he cannot have, pressing his face against flesh that throbs and POUNDS underneath his touch from him administering pleasure that sets his targets hearts to THUDDING, veins pushing litres of sustenance through them in ways he would be incredibly attuned to but unable to access,

After 200 years of rotten, unsustainable dead blood

He's free. Surrounded by living animals- that boar, which he drained dry in one night, for example. Total blood volume of a swine (couldn't get boar on Google, but it's comparative) is 60 ml/kg or 6.0 % of total body weight. The average weight being from 60kg-100kg depending on sex and size. So let's say he drained a 75kg boar.

That means the night he snuck off, he exanguinated (completely drained) an animal of roughly 9 POUNDS OF BLOOD

Impressive

Let's go to the Bear, now. Cave bears are actually extinct, so I'm gonna go with grizzly bear but feel free to do your own math. He took down between 130kg-270kg of bear depending on its sex. Let's say 200kg for ease. As roughly 6%-8% of any mammal is its blood, I'm gonna use the Boar 6% from before to average the blood Astarion would have drank.

Total in pounds: 26.455

HE DRANK

26 POUNDS OF BLOOD FROM ONE ANIMAL IN ONE NIGHT

All my research on these numbers is from Google and a calculator so forgive me if I'm off. But I'd say this is evidence of binging after starvation, as well as solid evidence that Vampires absorb blood differently than humans drinking fluids, so I'd HAVE to assume it evaporates within him or is consumed in its entirety and converted to energy magically cause there's NO way a body could absorb all of that and just "get drunk"

Anyways thanks for coming to my Ted Talk about vampires, Astarion, starvation, and blood volumes in your average mammal. 🫡

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #cazador szarr #vampire spawn #vampires

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peppertoastuniverse · 9 days

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more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 6: taiyaki contents: gojo satoru x reader, too many beds trope, gojo being a little shit, mentions of intense grief and death, fluff, conflicting internal thoughts

summary: while on your first joint mission together, a new level of understanding is reached when you open up to gojo about your past as he tries to get closer to you in more ways than one.

wc: 4.5k

"..I thought it would help. .. does it? because if– like if you’re not comfortable I can sto–” “no.. it’s.. it’s nice.” voice firm, you close your eyes, body fully relaxing at his touch to gojo’s silent delight. “… hey.” he mutters softly, speaking like you were going to run if he spoke too loudly. concern lacing his gentle actions. you hated it. you didn’t need his pity or his worry, you didn’t need his help or sweet touches. but gojo always fought ruthlessly.

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

“hey – oompfh – after this let’s go -“ gojo punches the curse on its side, abdomen lurching forward as you hit it with a blast of light, “ah shit– to get some food –“

“now gojo, really?” you grunt, cringing at the disintegrating body of the large spider curse that was just exorcised.

“m’starving, babe!!” he whines, bright blue scanning the abandoned warehouse you were in, spotting three more incoming curses.

“how are you always hungry?” you mumble, running towards the curses, grinning as you feel your curse energy surging, multiple blasts of light hitting a particularly creepy millipede curse.

“m’a growing boy that needs to eat!” a rustle brings your attention back to gojo as he hits a rather ugly beetle curse to the left of you easily taking it out. huffing, hand resting on his hip, “… and I know you’ll be hungry too, babe. you always fucking ravage the fridge like an animal when you get back- ” gojo adds head tilted to the side.

“gojo -“ you hiss, concentrating on the mosquito curse behind him, trying to ignore his constant chatter. “…weren’t you the one telling me to focus?!” you roll your eyes as you focus your energy to blast the curse behind him, considering if you should have aimed at gojo himself.

“pff, as if i’d let anything happen to you while I’m here.” he scoffs, pushing up his dark glasses, pale face filled with mild offence.

“cmon, just say yes! you can even pick and - and I’ll pay!” he says lip jutted out, pout on full display, easily kicking an ant curse, muttering a soft "red", finishing it off nonchalantly.

you start dusting your cold hands off on your coat as the veil disappears above you, sighing at another job done. you and gojo were in sapporo on your first assigned mission together. you hated to admit it but gojo was right, you did work well together – that is if you didn’t have the need to strangle him every couple of hours. his sheer power combined with your meticulously controlled nature complimented each other.

but currently, you just wanted to warm up. the crisp twilight air was sharp and unwelcoming, it was colder than usual for this time of year. you were starting to lose feeling in your fingers, limbs feeling far too stiff after all of that physical activity.

head turning to you, observant bright blues eyes flicker to your shivering frame, “eh? you cold?”

before you could answer, gojo walks over to you as you eye him suspiciously, taking a hesitant step back when he draws too close. he grabs your stiff hands in his and rubs them, attempting to generate some warmth. was he always like this?

staring at him in surprise, you wondered where this new version of gojo was coming from. recently you’ve noticed that things between gojo and you had become somewhat strange. perhaps it how he would walk closer to you as you headed to dinner after training with geto and ieri or how he was even more annoying recently. you’ve launched so many random items at him just in the past week that ieri offered to carry rocks in her pockets for you. you weren’t sure if she was joking, but you thanked her for her thoughtfulness. you made a mental note to discuss it with geto after sparring. geto needed to gain better control over his dog.

your eyes focus on his unusually thoughtful expression as he brings up your hands still engulfed in his, closer to his plump lips blowing on them.

your heartbeat quickens, warmth spreads across your hands, somehow making its way onto your cheeks. his hands were soft and gentle holding yours, large palms caressing your smaller ones, suspending your worries. it was hard to believe that they were the same hands that absolutely annihilated 4 third grade curses just a few minutes ago. it felt… nice. you allow him to keep you there.

gojo brings your hands down, still rubbing them in his, grinning at the relief evident on your face. inching teasing his face closer to yours, “how about a “thank you so much satoru, you saved my ass from frostbite and you’re soooooo cute” from the ice queen?”

ew, there’s the gojo you know. how egotistical is he?

you exhale creating clouds in the cold air as you forcibly pulling your hands away from his. instead you place your still freezing hands on his warm neck causing gojo to screech in surprise, lanky body jolting away from your cackling. whining your name he pouts, “I was actually so nice to you just now!”

“you'll get over it,” you chuckle you walk past a sulking gojo, pausing to look back at him with a raised eyebrow, “thought you wanted food?”

gojo's eyes immediately brighten as he walks to you with a pep in his step – you chuckle at how quickly his mood changes. gojo hums as he easily falls into place by your side. a small smile finds a way on his rosy face as you move closer to him attempting to steal some of his warmth as you pull your coat tighter on your body.

“how are you not cold right, now?” you ask shivering, taking into account his thin jacket.

he shrugs, “I dunno, I’m perfect I guess.” You shove him away, his laughter echoing in the foyer of the darkening warehouse.

your footsteps shuffle amongst the fallen leaves, as you make your way into the village. you feel a creeping strange new comfort in gojo’s company. he always seemed to find something to talk about.

“… and even after all of that, shoko still sided with suguru! can you believe that?! my closest friends – baby and boo – conspiring against me, and I didn’t even do anything – “

“oh my god gojo, you’re the one who forgot to put up the veil – “

“a minor detail, babe!” gojo says waving his hand back and forth to shoo away your reasoning.

stopping in your tracks you stare at the bright lights ahead of you, steam coming in waves coaxing you out of the darkness. Noticing your sudden stillness, gojo’s attention goes towards the small, charming stand, “oooooooh! taiyaki! d’ya want to go get some?” he asks as you, studying your expression as you nod enthusiastically eager to warm up. gojo practically bounces up and down at your approval and runs to the stand with renewed energy.

you couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm through your shivers. the small stall had fairy lights twinkling in multiple colours and a handwritten menu, evidently it was family owned. a bundled up cute old lady stood at the front, pouring batter into the fish shaped molds as an equally bundled up little girl beside her watched curiously.

“hi, uh, can we get 4 of the red bean ones? and .. hmm.. 3 - no let’s do 4 custard ones..” gojo lists off immediately, hypnotized by the enticing smell of sugar and batter.

you smack his side, a hushed whisper “gojo, how many are you going to eat?”

“i’ve been starving since this afternoon!! I’m paying anyway,” leaning in closer to you as he huffs dramatically.

man, even the strongest is no match for hunger.

“and one vegetable one, please.” you add, gazing up at the cute little old lady as she chuckles at your banter, crinkled eyes of wisdom shining in the dark.

gojo scoffs, staring at you incredulously, “really? a vegetable one? I didn’t know you had such bad taste, babe.”

“well duh, I hang out with you of course I have fucking shitty –“

gojo bumps your shoulder, jerking his head at two large brown eyes watching you at you.

“… uhhh I mean – bad taste.” turning your attention to the little girl behind the counter.

the little girl shyly looks up at you, gingerly placing the excessive amount of taiyakis each in paper sleeves into a larger plastic bag. you look down at her, eyes softening,

you offer her a little wave with a gentle smile. big brown eyes darting to yours, as the old lady collects payment from a chatty gojo, blue eyes watching your interaction with the little girl with interest.

“I like your hairclip,” you softly whisper to her, gesturing to the hello kitty hair clips perched on one of her pigtails, she clutches the skirt of the older woman. she looked so much like her, she was around the same age when -

you nudge the intruding thoughts out of your head, eyes clouding over with carefully practiced control, determined to stay in the present. noticing the shift in your demeanor, gojo scoots closer to you splaying a large hand on your shoulder, anchoring himself as he leans down to offer a warm smile at curious brown eyes. the little girl darting behind the older woman bashfully.

“akari! say hello to our nice customers!” the older woman scolds with an encouraging smile, the little girl to give you a fragile little wave. you coo internally, waving back brightly soft laughter dancing cutting through the cold air. the old woman hands gojo the plastic bag filled with taiyaki. you bow to the old woman and direct one last small smile to akari who gojo also playfully sticks his tongue out at in farewell. she giggles at his antics and waves back.

not wasting time, gojo hands you your vegetable taiyaki wrapped in a napkin while he holds his custard taiyaki in his mouth. you say your thanks as you watch him regain his hold of his beloved snack, taking a bite before exhaling rapidly to compensate for the hot pastry, the steam escaping from his mouth and the top of the fish shaped waffle as he moans in delight.

you palm your temple in embarrassment, as you hiss for him to be quiet.

eughhhh he’s so gross.

you watch in impressive disgust as he easily pops the rest of the pastry in his mouth despite the heat. “jesus, gojo slow down – it’s not going to run away from you” you knock, your shoulder into his, “seriously, you might choke,” against his muffled “mmppff! m’fine!” he shoots you an exasperated look.

with the warmth of the taiyaki unfreezing your fingers, you blow on the pastry before taking a bite. the crispness of the waffle contrasts softer interior; the egginess of the batter complimenting the sautéed cabbage and carrots inside.

“s’good?” gojo asks turning to you, mouth half full, halfway through his third taiyaki.

“mhm,” you nod happily, swallowing your taiyaki. “here, try some.” you move the pastry in front of his face, inviting him to take a bite.

gojo stares at you, your flushed cheeks from the cold, quiet smile on your face, loose hair billowing gently intertwined with the familiar lavender and vanilla scent of your shampoo, framing your sweet face. you looked so pretty this quickly fading light.

“c’mon your body will thank you for the veggies.” you tease him, mistaking his silence for hesitance.

regaining his senses, “oh? so you care about my body, eh? didn’t know you snuck a peak –“ he easily recovers, cheeky smile on his face, barely containing the amused scoff as you scrunch up your nose in disgust. gojo moves closer to you, easily taking half of your taiyaki in one bite.

eyes widening, “gojooo!” you whine, “that was such a big bite,” you pout at him.

gojo’s eyes sparkle, a grin growing on his face. over the past few days he was growing more aware that you were less guarded with him. you shoulders were relieved of their usual tenseness, a new lightness caressing your frame, your eyes shone brightly when you spoke, unafraid of taking up space.

looking away to hide his rising blush, as he thoughtfully chews the vegetable taiyaki. it lacked the usual sweetness he often sought out in his snacks, but it had a welcoming savouriness that settles well in his stomach, satiating something that he didn’t know he had a craving for.

“aw babe, don’t worry! You can have some of the other ones,” he mumbles. he didn’t know when it happened but he strangely found that you could almost get away with anything with him. you can have whatever you want. he wanted you to be greedy with him.

“so?” you poke his shoulder, immediately getting his attention. “ whatcha think? good, right?” you ask before popping the rest of the vegetable taiyaki in your mouth easily.

“s’ better than I remember..” he says with a finger to his chin. “– but the red bean one is still the best.”

your pout deepens. “uh huh. I see what you have for breakfast with that shitty excuse for what you call coffee.”

“hey! there’s nothing wrong with egg whites for breakfast, babe. ”

“just because that frosting has egg whites in it – “ you laugh. your reach across him to fish out another taiyaki out of the bag he was holding, taking out a red bean one.

he watches you take a bite and laughs in your face when he watches your surprised expression. it didn’t take long to read you nowadays – from that look he knew that he was right – the red bean taiyaki was delicious.

you make your way back to the hotel, intending to get an early night before having to leave for tokyo in the early morning. you were glad that this mission was straightforward. if you were honest - it was nice having the company, but you were glad to have your own room. even if you worked well with gojo, having your own space without complaints of being bored every 15 minutes was necessary.

hmm, maybe you’ll take a hot bath and read that mystery novel that ieri lent you.

you glance at your phone tossed carelessly on your bed, silver phone charm glittering in the dim lights of your hotel room. staring at the star of the charm, you grab your phone to check your messages.

gojo: lol look at this cat [image] (12:24pm) we meeting at the lobby (๑*ᗜ*) ? (2:44pm)

your eyes dart to the top of the screen as a new message pops up:

gojo: still hungry, gna get dins what do you want b? (6:44pm)

you roll your eyes, the black hole is never satiated... but hmm food might be good actually.

you: fried rice pls (6:46pm)

gojo: yes maam b there in 15 ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ (6:47pm)

you settle your bed, undoing the comforter to tuck your tired body into, moaning as you sink into the mattress. wishing that you packed a sweater, you were still chilly.

A knock at the door signal’s gojo’s arrival, getting up to open the door, your socked feet padding on the floor.

“hi babe,” he says as he budges his way into your room, making a b-line to small coffee table in the middle. he quickly sits on the floor and takes out multiple plastic containers of convenience store food. your eyebrows quirk to your surprise.

“sure, make yourself at home…” you mumble closing the door behind him.

he shoots you the best wounded puppy look he could manage. “i got you food! the least you could do is let me eat with you, grumps.” his cheeks and nose are pink from the cold, he runs his large hands through his windswept hair. he takes off his light blue hoodie, carelessly tossing it behind him on the floor, stretching his long body with a groan before opening the steaming containers of food.

“m'getting tired, gojo. leave after you eat.” you huff, sitting at the small table, reaching for your container of fried rice that gojo had opened for you.

his frown deepens. “y’know im gonna put that in the report! babe was in a real bad mood the entire time and raised their voice at the strongest and best looking sorcerer satoru gojo, making him cry.” he lists off, handing you a pair of chopsticks and a plastic spoon.

you snort, accepting the utensils thankfully. “yeah, fucking right gojo, the craziest thing you’ve said is that you’d even do the report. I know you’re going to leave it to me to do.” you say with a huff.

“sa – tor– ruuuu! how come you don’t call me by my first name!” he whines.

you roll your eyes. the minute you stepped into jujutsu tech, you heard the whispers of satoru gojo: arrogant, cocky, the sorcerer who wielded unimaginable power, the future of jujutsu society – the honoured one. you knew he always won, so who were you to challenge him? to everyone else he was the one – the chosen one – but to you he was anyone else. to you he had to remain gojo, never satoru. but you couldn’t help feel comfort in his presence, you couldn’t push down the genuine laughs he coaxed out of you. the rational part of your brain warned you that this was dangerous territory, and your obedient mind knew to keep away from satoru gojo.

“when you stop calling me babe.” you easily deadpan, spooning some of rice into your mouth. humming in content at the warmth. the fluffy rice, contrasting the slight crunch of the aromatic green onions, carrots and peas.

“but that’s who you are. you’re babe,” he says between a mouthful of noodles.

“yeah okay, gojo.” you say acidly, spoon chasing the last grains of rice at the bottom of the container. “you’re the worst, you know that?”

he stares at you eyebrows furrowed, head cocked to the side.

your eyes narrow at his scrutiny, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you’re so confusing, babe,” he easily answers, scrapping the bottom of the container of the container gratingly, the last of the long slightly greasy noodles gathering on his chopsticks.

“what are you talking about?”

“with that little girl you were like a different person! so sweet and shy, why do I get the grumpy ice princess?”

a hollow feeling returns in your chest. ignoring his comment as you scoff, moving to stretch out on the hotel room floor. you turn to your side facing away from him. you hear gojo hum as he moves to devour a container of slightly soggy karaage.

.“... she just reminded me of my sister.” you say quietly.

gojo’s eyes widen. “I didn’t know you have a sister.”

“yeah. she’s dead.”

“curse?” gojo asks almost nonchalantly, swallowing his mouthful and placing his chopsticks on the table.

“mhm.” you hum, “when I was 8, a special grade took out half of my village.” you mumble, words escaping your mouth before you could hold them in any longer. “mom and dad died trying to protect us, told us to always stick together and run as far as we could. so we ran into the forest, but it found us and I just stood there when.. I couldn’t, I tried..” your voice breaks, words dying pathetically on your tongue. you close your eyes, willing yourself to swallow the pain for just a little longer. breathe. you had to breathe. they were gone already, what’s the point in crying over it? especially in front of him.

wordlessly, gojo gets up and cautiously lays down behind you, ensuring to keep a comfortable distance from you. careful of your emotional state, he moves slowly,worried that you would hide from him if he acted to quickly. you feel his large hand, moving slowly back and forth on your back, your muscles confusedly stiffening at the contact. your body unconsciously lean into his touch before your fractured mind could comprehend it’s betrayal.

gojo was no stranger to touch - he was a tactile person with everyone and was notorious for being unable to grasp the concept of personal space. he was often seen clingy hanging off geto’s shoulders or smothering an infuriated ieri trying unsuccessfully to get a piggyback ride. you were no exception, irritatingly used to him poking your cheek in greeting or even worse patting your head, but this… this was different. there was a gentleness and a hesitance to his touch that you would never associated with gojo. there was something strangely sweet in his warmth that invited you to come closer. you resented how easily his touch calmed the beating of your unsteady heart.

what was he playing at?

your eyebrows scrunch, complimenting your trembling lips, you didn’t have time for his silly games.

“what are you doing, gojo?” you whisper, heart beat feeling unsteady, beating to an unfamiliar rhythm.

“... that’s uh… what my nanny used to do this to me when I was… upset.”

your blink in surprise. gojo was always so confident and sure, his eyes always bright and mischievous, mouth moulded in a consistent grin ready to inflict trouble. it was hard to imagine gojo upset. did his lip quiver before he cried? did his nose go red? did he bottle all his emotions up until he exploded? there was so much you've heard about him, but there wasn't a lot that you knew about him.

“…my uh, my parents weren’t around, so the servants would care for me. I… I thought it would help. .. does it? because if– like if you’re not comfortable I can sto–”

“no.. it’s.. it’s nice.” Voice firm, you close your eyes, body fully relaxing at his touch to gojo’s silent delight.

“… hey.” he mutters softly, speaking like you were going to run if he spoke too loudly. concern lacing his gentle actions.

you hated it. you didn’t need his pity or his worry, you didn’t need his help or sweet touches. but gojo always fought ruthlessly. you hated how every interaction with gojo was a losing game.

“..that wasn’t you fault, y’know?”

“how would you know?” tone sharp and defensive. this conversation didn’t need to happen, you hoped that gojo would be perceptive for once in his life and drop the subject. you just wanted it to be over. this was too much for you, too close.

“you barely know me.”

what did gojo know? nothing. he knew nothing about how in the dead of night you could still hear your sister’s cries begging you for help, or how on your birthday when you’d blow out the candles of the cake you bought for yourself that you wished that you could exchange places with her. he never knew how you’ve never gone back to your hometown. he didn’t need to know how resentful you were when your cursed technique started to develop, arriving too late to help those who you loved the most.

“well.. what I do know about you is that you care a lot more than you let on. you’re stupidly stubborn, so you would’ve tried absolutely everything in your power to save her.”

you fidgeting with your hands, his heavy words falling into your hands, catching them with difficulty. turning your head, you snuck a glance at him, looking at the sun.

the air was thick with an unspoken intimacy. in this moment, you understood the true power that gojo possessed. just a few hours ago he easily exorcised 4 curses but in the dimly flickering lights of your cold hotel room he showed that he was truly merciless. the weight of his words crushing you easily.

but the warmth of his hands against you back, interrupt your scrambling thoughts, stirring an unfamiliar nostalgic comfort in you. did your mother used to do this to you too? you don’t remember… it’s been a long time since you’ve had someone. you were so tired of keeping everything inside, of forcing your grief down into deepest your soul just to create a buoy to keep you afloat. it was in loneliness that you found true rest, a cruel but necessary sanctuary. but with gojo’s growing presence in your life, you were starting to grow restless, it unnerved you.

“i want to, though – know you…” his hands still at the small of your back, words uncovering the unmarked graves in your heart that you buried long ago. “…if you let me.”

your eyes gently open, you shakily inhale. you move to stare up at the ceiling, trying to find your voice.

“she had the same big brown eyes – the, the girl at the taiyaki stand.” you whisper so soft gojo would’ve missed it if he wasn’t paying close attention. “it was.. it was nice to see again.. I almost forgot what they looked like.” voice trembling, controlling slipping through you fingers.

gojo hums, his hand moving reassuringly on your back, attempting to ground you.

“sometimes I think.. i’m getting better and it gets easier. and then I feel guilty that I feel better… forgetting her,” you admit.

“mhm. well, you’re not forgetting her. your life is growing around the memory, so it just seems smaller.”

you nod, not wanting to trust your voice. meeting his eyes, you wondered if he had lost someone too. he must have. being a sorcerer it was inevitable. feeling his touch, all of your words die on your tongue into a comfortable silence.

after some time, he laughs unexpectedly. a bright playful sound, laced with bitterness on at the edges, “isn’t love fucking stupid, babe?”

you snort, lips turning upward ever so slightly. “the worst.” you agree, watery eyes threatening to spill, your cold hands rubbing your eyes. heart lurching at your fleetingly weak smile, gojo grins brightly deciding that if you didn’t have it in you to put on a brave face that he was strong enough to smile for the both of you.

hand caressing your back, his eyebrow quirks as you slowly turn your head to look back at him. your mischievous eyes catch his, “… hmm, I bet you were the worst baby. your servants must have hated you.” his hand drops from your back incredulously.

“what?! nuh uh! I was an absolute angel-“

you inch back to meet his pouting face with a teasing smirk, “you’re so fucking chatty now, imagine you as a kid,” laughter escaping from you, “I bet you cried so much. you were so annoying, an absolute monster. heheh probably cried so hard your hair went white.”

“baaabeeee!!! stopppp, it’s natural. it’s one of my best features!!” he pouts.

but looking at you, gojo thought your best feature was your smile – especially when he was the cause. it was a shame that he didn’t see it often. your eyes would crinkle at the corners, a chaotic delight that he recognized within himself. being this close to you, he wanted to reach out and trace your smile with his fingertips, to touch the smoothness of your cheeks, to whisper in your ears that everything would be okay because he would make it so. he wanted to know what it was like to touch light, to feel beauty. In the comfortable silence that grew, he wondered when the hotel room got so warm.

perhaps it was the richness of the fried rice settling in your stomach or the tiredness in your muscles or maybe.. just maybe, it was due to his reassuring presence that you find comfortably drowsy. you unexpectedly find that sleep comes easy to you, his slow and even breathing reminding you that he was there. you sigh contently, minusculely shuffling closer to him on the floor. heads almost touching, you warmly slip into a dreamless sleep.

a/n: ahhhh! this was a big step for the reader! what did you think of the chapter? -- special thank you to @yung-notorious for providing feedback and suggestions for this chapter, you're the best!! check out her fic, Never Lose Me! -- head image credit: Shokugeki No Soma dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

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