sassybluebird

[sassybluebird]

ᡣ𐭩 MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai does not get jealous. he especially doesn't get jealous over someone he's not even dating. because he's not dating you. he doesn't want to date you... right?

(wordcount: 5k; fem!reader, nsfw, lots of smut LOL idk what got into me this is the first fic ive written with more smut than plot in ages. but anyway: jealous!dazai, fingering, oral (f->m), semi-public/public sex. whiplash from dazai's thoughts (as always). unedited.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihi. SO this actually wasn't going to be connected to anything, but i decided like mid-fic that i wanted to make it a continuation to the adareader universe ive been considering building. i was too lazy to go check for inconsistencies, so if there's any dihfausihdfsudf just ignore them LOL. when i eventually make the masterlist for it and officially connect them all, ill go thru and double check for them. first i need to write them something with actual substance and not just horny posting LOLLLL.

Dazai is not a jealous man.

He’s not.

In fact, he’s the most un-jealous person in the whole world. He has no reason to be jealous, especially over you. He’s not dating you. Dazai never asked you to be his girlfriend, and that was intentional because Dazai doesn’t want a girlfriend. More specifically, he doesn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. You’re just a friend—a friend that he sometimes fucks and occasionally seeks out to spend time with. He doesn’t want someone relying on him in a way a girlfriend would, and he certainly doesn’t want to rely on someone in the way a boyfriend would, because he doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under him when it inevitably goes to shit. 

The thought is suffocating, it makes his skin crawl.

Almost as much as the realization that the cop the two of you are assigned to be coordinating with is clearly head over heels enamored by you. Dazai scowls from where he’s standing a few steps behind you, watching as you go over the details of the file that the man brought to you—Dazai didn’t care to learn his name. And yes, Dazai means you because when the officer came over with the file, he didn’t even acknowledge Dazai’s existence and walked right over to you.

He still hasn’t acknowledged Dazai’s presence, staring at you with an adoring expression as you read through the file. Dazai thinks if this were some sort of cartoon, the officer would quite literally have hearts in his eyes—it’s disgusting, Dazai can hardly stand to watch it.

“Dazai,” you finally say, voice a soft hum. He likes the way you say his name—it rolls off your tongue prettily, and it makes his chest oddly warm. He’s not used to people saying his name with such softness; he’s used to anger, irritation, fear, but never this. He’s wondered how his given name would sound, he’s spent many nights imagining it, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask you to call him by it. That’s a step too close to actual intimacy and he’s not willing to take it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai realizes you must have said something after you said his name, but he didn’t catch it because he was too absorbed in the way you said his name to notice.

“Come here,” you say again, nodding your head for him to drag himself out of the corner he’s sulking in to come to you. He feels a bit too gleeful watching the way the officer’s expression shifts in surprise as he turns to look at Dazai, finally noticing him.

Dazai pushes himself off of the wall to take a few steps closer to you, and he may or may not stand a bit too close on purpose just to see the other man frown. He stands behind you, chest brushing your back as he looks over your shoulder to scan through the file you’ve been reading. It takes him twice as long as it usually does because he didn’t realize that being in such close proximity to you would make him as dizzy as it did, and he’s too stubborn to back off now. 

Your hair smells like vanilla, and Dazai can smell the faint scent of your favorite perfume dabbed on your neck, worn off throughout the long day. His attention strays from the file to you, tracing the smooth curve of your neck, dipping down to your collarbone and swallowing when he realizes that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, the stuffiness of the tiny room and the lack of air conditioning causing small, visible beads of sweat to form on your skin. His breath catches as his gaze lowers just a bit more and-

You turn to look at him and his gaze snaps up before it can drop to dangerous territories, and Dazai catches the amused look in your eyes—you know exactly what he was looking at. Instead of having some shame, because Dazai has no shame, he shifts just an inch closer to you, one of his hands resting on your hip. He watches the way your lashes flutter the same way they always do when you’re trying to pretend you’re not affected by his touch, and his lips curl up into a small smirk.

“What do you think?” you ask after a second. 

To your credit, your voice isn’t as strained as he expected, so Dazai ups it a notch, fingers sliding from where they’re caressing your hip to trail across your inner thigh. All out of sight from the officer on your left, but Dazai can tell he’s aware that something is going on from the way his enamored expression starts shifting into a more awkward one.

Dazai gives him a smug, sardonic smile before saying, “I think our friend over here should go get us the CCTV tapes—that’ll be much more useful to us then a bunch of reports.”

The other man’s face shifts in confusion, brows furrowing and lips curving down, but before he can say no, you speak up and agree, “That would be great.”

Dazai rolls his eyes when it makes the man straighten and nod, “I’ll get it right away.”

Before he steps out of the room, Dazai tosses another look over his shoulder, this one colder than it is smug, and he says maybe a bit too snidely, “Don’t come back until you have them.”

The officer doesn’t reply as he leaves the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Dazai is pulling away from you to walk over to it. He locks it quickly and then turns to face you, tilting his head to the side as his gaze roves over your body. You’re leaning back against the table, eyebrows raised, and Dazai doesn’t stop himself this time when his gaze lowers to the swell of your breasts just barely made visible by your partially unbuttoned shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, motioning for you to come over to him.

You don’t budge. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and say dryly, “There are cameras in here, Dazai.”

He pointedly looks up to the two corners of the room that they’re in and then back down to where he’s standing, silently telling you that this is a blind spot. After a moment’s hesitation, you push yourself off the table and make your way over to him. Dazai tilts his head back against the wall, looking down at you through his lashes as you come to stand directly in front of him. He pretends that his throat doesn’t bob when he feels your fingers slip into his belt loops.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but your eyes are glittering so he knows you know exactly what the problem is—and to think he thought you weren’t cruel, you might just be the worst type of cruel there is, hiding it behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous because that cop has a crush.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Dazai replies with a simpering smile, lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, breath catching as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your face into his hand. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Dazai thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—he’s thought it since the day he met you, but he thinks it especially now when you’re leaning into his touch like it isn’t poisonous, like his hands aren’t stained with blood and his soul isn’t black and rotten. You deserve better than him, and that’s another reason why he refuses to take that next step: he knows one day you’ll realize it too. You’ll realize that you’ve fallen for a mask, that the man you care about doesn’t actually exist, it’s a thing that can barely call itself human pretending to be him.

He wonders if you know. He wonders if you know that something is wrong with him—he thinks that you must have some inkling after the bout of paranoia he had a few weeks ago when he was at your apartment, but he doubts you know the extent of it. He doubts you know that thoughts running through his head whenever that officer looked at you were anything but just casual jealousy; that every time he leaned in closer to you, Dazai’s fingers twitched in the direction of the gun given to him by the Agency that he’s only supposed to use in emergencies. 

Old habits die hard, Dazai has always been quite trigger happy. They never should’ve put a gun in his general vicinity.

 He leans down to ghost his lips below your ear, savoring in the way he feels you take in a sharp breath. His fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to kiss the spot beneath your jaw that makes you writhe, and just as he expects, you let out a breathy moan against his ear that makes his head dizzy, your hands darting up to cling at the sleeves of his jacket.

“Dazai,” you gasp as he kisses down your neck. He hums in response, his free hand resting on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Are you sure…”

“I’m sure,” he says, and then adds smugly, “When am I ever wrong?”

He doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re probably rolling your eyes at him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to make a witty remark about the first time the two of you met. His grip tightens on your waist as he flips you around so that your back is to his chest.

His hands immediately work to unbutton your slacks, lips finding their way back to your neck to pepper kisses up and down your skin as he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He lets out a low groan against your skin when he slides his hand into your pants and feels just how damp your panties are.

“This better be for me,” he mutters more to himself than to you, nipping at the skin of your neck. His voice is a bit more rough now as he asks you, “Lace?”

He lifts his face from your neck to look at you. Your eyes are half lidded as the pads of his fingers trace the cloth of your panties, head lolled back against his shoulder, breath ragged and lips parted, but there’s something teasing in your gaze as it flickers up to meet his.

“The ones you like,” you breathe out, and Dazai swallows thickly. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over after this.” 

“Shit,” he whispers, putting pressure right over where your clit is hidden, watching the way your thighs tremble. “Look at you, only I make you feel this good, yeah?”

“Don’t tease.” The whine that clings to your words makes Dazai’s head spin. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants and tries to ease some of the friction by pressing you back into him, rolling his hips against your ass. “Dazai-”

“Shhhh,” Dazai soothes with a grin, kissing up your neck to your ear when he hears the distress in your tone. “I’ve got you.” 

With practiced ease, he slides his fingers beneath your panties, middle finger dipping between your folds. He inhales sharply, immediately losing his grin when he feels how wet you are.

“This better be for me,” he repeats, a bit more seriously this time as he slides his finger between your folds, putting pressure on your entrance but not quite pushing in. “Hm?”

He waits for a response, relishing in the way your whole body trembles against him. He doesn’t even know if you know what he asked, you already seem so fucked out—lips wet and parted as you breathe in and out shakily, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.

“Tell me,” he presses, his free hand sliding up your body, untucking your shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to feel your skin.

“‘course it’s for you, Dazai,” you say after a few seconds of confusion, like you were trying to remember what he asked. “What kind of question is that?” 

Dazai doesn’t respond to that, letting out a pleased hum as he kisses your jaw again. He also doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, quickly plunging his middle finger deep inside of you. The sudden intrusion has your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes your lips—he almost wants to pull your hand away, but decides against it because he doesn’t want anyone else hearing you like this.

You try to rock your hips to get him moving, but Dazai’s hand flattens against your stomach, holding you still against him.

“Dazai-” you gasp his name again, this time your voice is more pitched, caught between a whine and a complaint.

“Patience,” he coos, but his voice is strained and his breath is heavier as your tight walls hug his finger, imagining that it’s his cock instead. He drags his finger out until only the tip remains inside of you. He teases your entrance again, tracing a gentle circle but not pushing back in. “Bet you could already take two fingers for me, yeah?”

“What if he comes back?” you suddenly ask panic flying through your eyes as if you’ve only just remembered where you are. Dazai is distinctly displeased by the thought of another man crossing your mind while his fingers are inside of you. “Dazai, what if-”

“He won’t,” Dazai answers you, making his displeasure known as he nips your neck. 

“How do you-”

“The corner that the disappearance took place on—it’s a blind spot for the CCTV cameras,” he answers before you can finish. Dazai knows this because he killed a target in that exact same spot two and a half years ago. “He’ll be gone for a while. He won’t want to come back empty handed to you.” 

Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to question him anymore, sliding his middle and ring fingers inside of you and watching as your jaw falls slack. To make up for the displeasure he felt at you bringing up that irritating cop, he fucks you hard with his fingers—you barely have time to bite the palm of your hand before his fingers are stretching your walls.

He thinks he might be pushing his luck—he doesn’t know if the cameras in the corners of the room pick up sound, and if they do, he doesn’t know how well they pick it up. Even if you’re doing your very best at muffling your moans, there’s no hiding the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt—it’s wet and filthy, and it has Dazai’s head dizzy. 

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are plunging in and out of you back up to your face. Your pretty eyes are almost fully rolled back as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge and your lashes are wet. One particularly rough snap of his wrist has your hand falling limp from your mouth to your side and your lips parting in a moan that Dazai doesn’t dare allow anyone else to hear. Quickly, his free hand darts up to grab your jaw hard, turning your face toward him so he can press his lips to yours messily, swallowing the keening moan before you can let it out. 

He kisses you deeply, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth gently in contrast to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. You try to kiss him back, but you can hardly even breathe with how deep his fingers fuck into you. He knows you're close—he can feel it in the way your whole body is trembling, and how your pussy flutters around his fingers, so he picks up the pace, just as desperate to bring you over the edge as you are to get there.

He’s the only one that can make you feel like this. He’s the only one that can make your body shudder and writhe, he’s the only one that can make your eyes roll back in pleasure, he’s the only one and he needs to prove it.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleads against your lips. The pet name that spills from his lips is not the teasing bella he likes to hit you with like he intended—it comes out strained, breathy, just as desperate as he feels. The lack of control scares him a bit, but he’s too out of it for it to take hold. “C’mon, once on my fingers, then as many times as you want on my cock when we get home, alright?”

He doesn’t know what you’re trying to say, the noise that spills from your lips, muffled against his mouth, is a moan, caught between his name and a please and something else he can’t make out. Distantly, he thinks that the bandages on his forearm must be ruined, he can feel your slickness dripping down his hand to his wrist and he can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you. He doesn’t care—in fact, the thought only makes his lower abdomen tighter. 

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, the only word she can make out and Dazai grins.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers inside of you and rubbing his index finger over your clit, and you’re gone. 

Dazai groans when he feels you moan his name against his lips, hand dropping from your face to your waist to hold you upright as your knees buckle. You cum hard on his fingers, hips stuttering and stilling, and he can feel tears spilling over your cheeks. His cock is painfully hard now and he wants nothing more than to unbuckle his pants and replace his fingers with it, but he thinks that would be pushing his luck—he’s never had any semblance of control once his cock is inside you and he needs to keep an ear out for footsteps approaching the conference room. 

He rides out your high, pace slowing as he continues to fuck his fingers into your sensitive cunt, wiping your tears with his free hand once you’ve steadied yourself. You tremble, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and Dazai only removes his fingers when you claw at his wrist for him to stop.

His fingers are dripping with your cum, and though Dazai is aching for a taste himself, he instead lifts them to your lips. You’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, leaning back against his chest and breathing heavily, but you instinctually part your lips for him. His breath catches when you take both of his fingers into your mouth, lashes fluttering shut and tongue swirling around his digits as you taste yourself off of him.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand dropping down to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure. He has no idea how he’s going to hide this before the officer gets back and…

His thoughts trail off when you finally push off of him, your legs are still trembling, and your eyes are still a little hazy, but your gaze drops from his face to his rapidly rising and falling chest down to where he’s rubbing his cock through his pants. And then, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, voice breathy this time and pupils blown wide as he watches your fingers work at the buckle of his belt.

Dazai almost wishes that the officer would come back soon, just so he could walk in on you with a faceful of Dazai’s cock. But if that happens, all of Ango’s work will go out the window because there’s no way he’s letting someone see you like this and walk out alive. 

Dazai’s cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. He’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum, and his tip is flushed red, but you waste no time before ghosting your lips across his length, suckling gently at the vein running along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip.

Dazai chews at his lower lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat. Instead, his throat spasms as he swallows, reaching out to cradle the back of your head gently, carding his fingers through your hair soothingly.

“Lookit you,” he breathes out, voice wavering as he swallows another low groan. His fingers tighten in your hair just a bit, but he doesn’t push your face down on his cock, head falling back against the door as you work his cock further down your throat. His breath is ragged and heavy as your tight muscles spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to the intrusion, and he can feel your nails digging into the bandages wrapped around his hips. “That’s my girl.”

Another loss of control that should probably concern him, but you’re quick to take his mind off of it with the way he can feel you let out a whine around him, nails digging a little bit deeper into skin as you take him fully into your mouth, lips flush to his pelvis and nose buried in his pubic hair.

His head falls forward as he pants, watching your throat struggle to adjust to him. He strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him because he worries that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll let out a pornographic moan, one that will be impossible to deny if anyone over hears.

Your lashes flutter as you look up at him, eyes wide and glassy with fat tears that roll steadily over your cheeks. 

Beautiful, he thinks hazily, and his—all his. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to imagine you like this—you’re his. 

He chokes over air, free hand coming up to cover his mouth and hips jerking forward. He feels you gag around him and his hand drops to caress your cheek in apology, trying to wipe away your tears, but it’s clumsy and frantic—the sight of you on your knees for him, tears streaming down you face as you take him down your throat, is enough to send him spiraling over the edge.

His vision spots with black dots, the taut cord in his abdomen tightens and then snaps. He’s hardly able to muffle the moan that spills from his lips as his eyes knock back and his head falls against the metal of the door. His whole body tenses and spasms as he cums down your throat, he gasps for air, thumb still stroking your cheek as you struggle to swallow all of his cum.

It takes a minute for Dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. By the time he has, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. His hazy gaze focuses on your face—your lips are wet and swollen, your eyes are still glassy, and this time Dazai doesn’t have an excuse as he lifts his hands to cradle your face and says quietly, “Mine.”

Your smile is teasing. “‘I don’t get jealous,’” you mock lightly, leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as his hand slinks around your body to your back, pulling your body flush to his as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the familiar feeling of your lips sliding against his. 

“I don’t have reason to be jealous,” Dazai murmurs, this time with a different meaning. He pulls back slightly so he can button your pants back up and tuck your dress shirt back into them, making sure you look presentable before the officer gets back.

Instead of teasing him again, your smile softens and you affirm, “You don’t,” and Dazai’s throat tightens. 

The thought of being in an actual relationship has always been suffocating to Dazai. Imagining having to spend the rest of his life with one person, having someone rely on him when his will to live is fickle at best and nonexistent at worst, becoming dependent on someone who could leave him on a moment’s notice… It makes his stomach churn with disgust, his chest tight with anxiety.

But when that faceless someone turns into you, Dazai realizes that the thought of a relationship is not quite as unappealing as it’s always been to him. Does it still make him skittish? Sure, but does it outweigh the green hue that colors his vision whenever someone looks at you and thinks you’re not his? Does it outweigh the bolt of fear he feels whenever he sees someone display interest in you, wondering if maybe you’ll get sick of his flighty behavior and give them a chance?

Absolutely not.

Dazai hears footsteps approaching the door he’s leaning on, and quickly unlocks it, motioning for you to stand back by the conference table. When the officer opens the door, the two of you are standing there casually like you never moved.

The officer gives you an apologetic smile that makes Dazai’s eyes twitch. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any CCTV footage from the area.”

Before you can respond, Dazai smiles tightly and says, “Wow, and it took almost twenty minutes for you to realize that—no wonder the police keep coming to us for help.”

You elbow Dazai, but he’s unrepentant, giving you a sweet smile before turning a cooler one back onto the officer. “If you don’t mind, we can finish the rest back at our office tomorrow now that we have the files. We have a date to get to.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re raising your eyebrows at him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the officer, finding sick satisfaction in the way the man’s eyes dart between the two of you, a dawning expression crossing his face.

“A… date?” 

“A date,” Dazai confirms, picking up the file and motioning for you to leave. He pointedly ignores the amused expression on your face as you make your way out of the room, walking past the officer who dumbly steps out of the way. “Thanks for the help… or, well, lack thereof.”

It’s only when the door slams shut behind the two of you, do you finally echo, “… A date?”

Hesitantly, Dazai confirms, “A date?”

When you don’t immediately respond, Dazai’s smile starts to freeze, considering that maybe you don’t want to date him and he read all of this wrong. You want to keep things casual, no strings attached. But after a few agonizing moments, you hook your arm around his and lean into him.

“Where are you taking me then, hm?”

“… It’s a surprise,” he replied.

A surprise for both of you, because Dazai hasn’t thought that far ahead yet. 

A tenseness that he hadn’t even realized was in his shoulders dissipates when you laugh and press your lips to his upper arm before resting your head against it. 

“Alright,” you agree, although he’s pretty sure you know damn well this is all spur of the moment. “Let’s go then.”

Though Dazai tries to rifle through all of the options of places you like to go, when the two of you step outside, all coherent thought washes right out of the window when you turn to look up at him, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow over your face.

“What is it?” you ask when he freezes in his tracks to admire you. “Dazai?”

For just a split second, Dazai can imagine it. He can imagine a life with you, and there’s no sign of any of the suffocation or discomfort he usually feels when he thinks of long term commitment too hard. He imagines waking up to you in the morning and falling asleep to you at night, he imagines spending his days laid up in bed with you sharing kisses and sweet nothings and he imagines dragging you around the city to show you off to anyone and everyone. His thoughts start to spiral out of control, and he’s glancing down at your ring finger, wondering-

“Dazai?”

Dazai’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he swallows thickly when a more realistic image comes to mind—the expression on your face when you find out about his past, the disgust, the fear, the realization that he’s just not who he made himself out to be, that he’s been lying to you since day one.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, voice a little raspy, so he shakes his head, giving you a disarming smile and clearing his throat. “You’re just so stunning that it leaves me at a loss for words, sweet bella.”

You don’t seem to buy it, but you don’t press, arm tightening around his as you make your way back over to your car.

As soon as you look away, his expression shifts into a more downcast one as his gaze tracks back over to you. It’s only a matter of time, he remembers. His past will catch up with him sooner rather than later, and no matter what you may insist about the past being in the past, he knows everything will change when you finally realize what all he’s been hiding from you.

… but maybe there’s not too much harm in indulging while he still can. He just has to keep reminding himself that he can’t get too attached.

“You should let me drive,” Dazai says sweetly. “So I can drive us to the place and keep it a surprise for you.”

You laugh in his face. “As if.”

You usher him over to the passenger seat before making your way back over to the driver’s side, and Dazai finds a genuine smile unconsciously curling at the corners of his lips. One that quickly falls when his fingers wrap around the handle of the car door.

He thinks, maybe, it might be far too late to stop himself from getting attached.

[sassybluebird]

Migraines - Aizawa X Reader blurb

Hello again! You all voted in the poll for this, so I deliver. Just domestic life fluff, the slightest most barely mention of sex and even then it's like nothing even if you squint, GN!reader.

I hope you enjoy! If you liked this, consider buying me a Coffee =] - Ko-fi.com/marley_offline_23

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Work was rough, training was rough, the entire day has been rough. 

The dark haired man had woken up with a minor headache that had gotten progressively worse throughout the day. It didn't help that seemingly everyone in his life was loud and reckless and had a penchant for annoying him with whatever easily solvable issues they currently had! 

Well… except one person… but they were currently at work and not wrapped up in bed with him while he did his best to ignore any and all sounds.

Aizawa let out a low groan and wrapped his blanket around himself tighter, as if that would help with the banging and pulsing that was happening inside of his head. The aspirin he had taken earlier was doing nothing to help.

The man didn't know how much time had passed from him getting home to now, all he was really aware of was the blistering, thundering pain in his head. But when he vaguely heard the front door open and a light voice saying hello to the cat, he was sure it had been at least an hour.

"Sho?" Your sweet voice called out, "I'm home! I also picked up some dinner, you didn't respond to my text so I assumed we weren't going to cook anything tonight." Had you texted him? He hadn't looked at his phone, the bright screen made his head worse. 

The smell of dumplings and miso soup wafted through the air as you made your way through the apartment, his stomach curled at the smell. 

"Shota..?" You slowly opened the bedroom door, then quickly shut it when you saw your husband, "What's wrong, love? Are you okay?" Aizawa was grateful that you spoke in hushed whispers.

Instead of responding, the man just groaned and vaguely gestured to his head. His partner seemed to get the hint, though. 

Smiling, they walked over and sat the food on the bedside table before seating themselves at the edge of the bed, placing a comforting hand on the man's forehead. "Have you taken anything?"

Aizawa nodded, leaning into their cool touch, "S'not doing much." He muttered out, grabbing your arm and tugging you into bed with him. 

"Sho!" You yelped out, before quickly throwing a hand over your mouth and giving the man an apologetic look, "Shota. I have to put the food away, change out of my day clothes, clean up a bit—"

The man cut you off by placing a thumb over your lips, his hand enveloping the right side of your face, before pulling you in for a kiss. Slow, full of want. Aizawa was more than ready to give in, wanting anything to take his mind off of his migraine, craving you as the perfect medicine. 

One hand slid from your face to the back of your neck as the other traced your hip, stopping only to squeeze the plush spots. Though the motion slightly hurt his head, he rolled you two over so that his form was braced on top of yours. 

Lost in the moment, your hands trailed up his chest and then into his hair. Silky waves curled between your fingers, and when Aizawa moved from your mouth to your neck, you gasped and gave a slight tug. 

Which made the man groan in pain. 

Which made you stop and realize just how you ended up beneath him in the first place. 

"Sho, you need rest." You put your hands on the side of his face and made him look at you. 

Again, he just let out something between a groan and a sigh and all but collapsed on top of you, his muscular frame encasing yours, once again burying his face in your neck as you rubbed his back.

Before you could interrupt his attempt at falling asleep with the reminder of your dinner that was currently on the bedside table, he spoke.

"Don't worry about it. I can practically hear you thinking." You chuckled and kissed his forehead.

"Fine. Just try to sleep." 

"Way ahead of you." He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his head already feeling better than before.

[sassybluebird]

ᡣ𐭩 LOVERS ROCK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: there are very few things that leave dazai osamu at a loss for answers. you are one of them. more specifically, it's your relationship (is this a relationship?) with him that has him so disconcerted, and dazai is getting to his breaking point.

(wordcount: 3.6k; nsfw [kind of, very suggestive so will label nsfw], ada!reader, dazai has SEVERE trust issues & paranoia, this is set like half a year after he joined the ada, dazai also has a bad relationship with sex that is mentioned in his narration, he is terrible at communication too, accidentally hurts reader a little [nothing major])

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hiiiiiii guys <.< so i'm actually really proud of this ehehe. this is a universe that i'm tempted to expand on like wykyk, but we'll see.

Dazai hates giving up control. 

Ever since he was a kid, he’s been hyper-independent. First with his family, because they were never around and he had to learn to be self-sufficient otherwise he’d die a slow, painful death. Then in the Port Mafia, he quickly learned that asking for help is a weakness and being dependent on others is a vulnerability that people would take advantage of to subvert his influence and usurp his position as an underboss. As long as he’s remembered, it was all but a death sentence to rely on any other than himself. 

It wasn't until he became a member of the Agency that he finally began to allow himself to depend on others—banking on Ranpo and his mind, Kunikida and his ideals, Yosano and her tenacity. But even then, he never allowed himself to lose complete control over a situation, drawing things out in a way that would always leave him with a firm hand guiding the chess board. 

Until he met you, at least.

He wasn’t sure what made you so different—he still isn’t entirely sure, it’s a thought that frequently plagues him, and because of it, he can never allow himself to be fully comfortable with you. You joined the Agency a month after him with lips that spoke pretty words and gave him even prettier smiles. You’d been kind to everyone, but Dazai likes to think you were especially kind to him. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Dazai liked the idea of it.

Well, he didn’t at first. 

In fact, he was rather hostile to it. To you. The longing he felt for the casual, soft touches you laid upon the other members of the Agency felt more like a weakness than anything else. It scared him. He’d never desired anything of the sort before, he’d always been okay on his own—thrived in it, really—and now he was suddenly seeking you out at all hours of the day, and he didn’t even fully understand why. Every time he sought you out, it ended poorly with him saying something uncalled for and your expression twisting as you tried to hide your hurt. 

And yet he still continued to seek you out. He made the same mistake over and over again: constantly forcing himself into your space after getting jealous watching you doll out casual affection to the other detectives, waiting for you to give him the same attention, and then lashing out in some manner when you finally did.

He supposed it didn’t help that Dazai was uncomfortable in general with people touching him, which naturally made him even more hostile because why was he longing for something that made him uncomfortable? 

He also still isn’t sure how you managed to break through all of his walls—or why you even persisted when it became clear that he was at best incompetent when it comes to dealing with real emotions, and at worst, borderline malicious. 

But you did. And it scared him. Scares him.

Dazai lets out a shaky breath when he feels your lips ghost against his neck, fingers twisting the sheets below him. Your hands are sliding against his sides, gentle and soothing, and a part of him wants to melt into the sheets while another part of him wants to flip the two of you around, press you back down into the mattress and rip control over the situation back from you.

As if you can sense his conflict—maybe you can, Dazai has come to realize that unlike everyone else at the Agency, who he can fool with his mask of exaggerated dramatics and clownlike behavior, that you had somehow learned how to see right through him—you pause for the sparest moment and trace your lips back up his neck to brush them against his own, soft and comforting, as if to soothe his discord.

And it works somehow. Dazai doesn’t know how you do it because he can’t even quell his own mind when it starts to spin out of control, but the brush of your lips against his is enough to ground him again. 

“Everything okay?” you ask quietly, eyes searching his face for the answers that he knew his lips might not give.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice rough and cracking over the word. 

He thinks maybe a part of it is the way you always check on him to make sure he’s doing alright. For Dazai, sex has only ever been transactional—he was young when he was first carted off to a whorehouse so he could be taught how to use his body for intel and other miscellaneous advantages. No matter how hard he tried to enjoy it, he always found it to be underwhelming at best and loathsome at worst. And he did try to enjoy it, he forced himself to seek out women in his free time to try to learn to enjoy the activity that so many other people seem to find comfort and pleasure in. 

It wasn’t until you that he could.

His first time with you was earth shattering. He’s not exaggerating when he says it completely altered his perspective on intimacy. It was embarrassing, almost—he remembers giving you quick, flirty smiles, and he remembers the sly comments he whispered to you at the bar the members of the Agency were at to celebrate Yosano’s birthday. 

He knew that morning that he wanted you in his bed by nightfall—partly because he thought it would get you out of his system, that maybe all he needed was a good fuck to stop acting like he was brainless whenever you were around, and partly because he was curious. He was curious to know if that genuine demeanor of yours continued behind closed doors, or if it was all just a mask you liked to put up in public. 

Dazai’s hands were on you before the two of you even left for the night—they were creeping up your inner thigh, lingering on your bicep, he was resting his chin on your shoulder as he stood behind you, warding off any man that might try to approach you with cold looks you couldn’t catch. Eventually, like he planned, you asked him if he wanted to go back to your apartment, and Dazai agreed, of course, eager to get his questions answered. Eager to free himself of whatever shackles you’ve put on him.

And it all went downhill from there.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, frown deepening and hands stilling on his waist when you don’t find an answer you like on his face.

Dazai tries to play it off—you’re here for sex, not all of his unstable thoughts. He gives you a practiced smile and slips his hand under your shirt to rest on your lower back, pulling you firmer against him—an easy tactic, one of the first he learned to distract his partner when he slips up.

He should have known better than to think you would fall for it.

Instead of returning to the lingering line of kisses you were leaving on his neck, you sit back to study him, and Dazai feels seen. He shifts under your scrutinizing gaze, averting his eyes to the ceiling and counting the seconds that pass as he waits for you to ask that dreaded question. 

“What's wrong?” you ask him quietly.

Dazai can evade it. He knows that he can—even if the sex is ruined, because he knows you’re not going to have sex with him if you think something is wrong, he can evade this question by refusing to answer. You never press it, although sometimes your lips curve down in a disappointed frown that makes him feel even worse than before.

But Dazai finds himself hesitating.

“I-“ he starts to say before cutting himself off abruptly, horrified by the realization that he was just about to admit to you what he was thinking. “Nothing.” 

The anticipation that had sprung to your eyes when he started to speak dissipates when he blows you off, and it makes his chest tighten. He feels your thighs tense and knows you’re about to get off of him, so his hands fly to your hips to keep you in place.

“Something,” he corrects, voice just a little too raspy for comfort. “… Something.”

You settle back down on top of him, tilting your head to the side. 

“Tell me?” you offer quietly, your hands drop to his arms, sliding up and down the bandages that cover his forearms slowly. Soothingly. He hates it.

“I just don’t understand this,” Dazai admits. “It’s… confusing.”

It's possibly the first time he’s ever spoken these words out loud. It’s a weakness he’s never allowed anyone to be aware of—even when Dazai has no idea what’s going on, he’s careful to put up an impenetrable facade of confidence, one that even the keenest eyes can’t see through.

And here he is, bare of masks and facades, admitting his weakness plainly to someone who could easily take advantage of it.

Oh.

“This as in…?” you prompt with a pondering frown.

Is that it?

“This,” he repeats more insistently as his mind races. “Us.”

You, he accuses silently.

You have the ability to destroy him. Dazai realizes, disconcerted, that this is what is confusing him. He's allowed himself to be weak in front of you. He's lowered all of his guards. He's let you in through his many walls of defenses. You’ve settled down in the treacherous beating thing in his chest that he’s tried to rip out too many times to count, and Dazai waits for you to take advantage of it. He waits for this to go wrong. Waits for you to prove yourself to be a Trojan Horse in the form of dazzling smiles and a beautiful face. 

But you don’t, and that’s what Dazai just can’t understand. He doesn’t understand what you’re getting out of this—he knows what he’s getting out of it. He’s getting comfort, he’s able to pretend he’s capable of being loved, he gets you. But you’re not getting anything out of this, so he feels like he’s just been biding time before the other shoe drops.

“… What about us do you not understand?” You sound perplexed, and it agitates Dazai. Worse, you can tell it agitates him because immediately you run your thumb over the pulse point on his wrist to soothe him. You add quickly with a small smile, “I'm not understanding now, help me?”

It is beyond disconcerting that even though he knows it was a ploy to distract and soothe him, it works anyway. Dazai needs to do something about this.

“What do you get out of this?” Dazai decides to ask the question plainly instead of dancing around his words, partially because of the agitation and partially because he just needs an answer. Desperately. “What do you get out of what’s going on between us? I don't understand why you keep agreeing to meet me, why you initiate it sometimes. I need to know what it is you get."

Sex is transactional—it always is. Each party has to get something out of it, and if you don't know what the other is getting, then you have made a perilous mistake somewhere along the line. Dazai has known this since the beginning, but he allowed himself too long to bask blindly in the comfort of your arms and bed. He can’t keep doing this without knowing what you’re getting, It’ll come back to haunt him.

You’re still confused by his question even with the explanation, he can see it in the way the thoughts race behind your eyes as you try to piece it together. 

Eventually you settle on a smile that’s almost playful as you answer with, “You?”

Dazai’s frown deepens at your words, his expression becomes a bit colder. He thinks you’re evading the question because you don’t want to answer it, and that’s dangerous. You joined the Armed Detective Agency not long after him—were you a plant sent to get close to him by one of his old enemies? By Mori? His thoughts start to spiral dangerously. These are questions he should’ve been having months ago when you first joined the Agency, not now. 

“What are you really getting?” His grip on your hips tightens. “Tell me. Stop avoiding the question.”

Your expression becomes a bit more alarmed when he closes off from you, he thinks maybe his grip on your hips might be painful from your wince but he can’t afford to let go until he has his answer. 

“You, Dazai,” you say again, more insistently this time. “I get you. I get to spend time with you. be with you. That’s what I get.”

“But why?” Dazai presses, raising his voice, holding you tighter. He is hurting you now, he can tell from the way you try to bat his hands away, but he couldn’t let go if he wanted to. His blood pressure is rising as he realizes how badly he might have messed up. All of Ango’s efforts—Odasaku’s last request—all down the drain because of one mistake. “Why? What information are you trying to get? Who sent you? Who are you work-“

“What?” you demand. The confusion in your eyes is almost believable—Dazai thinks you must’ve been sent by someone important if you’re this good of an actress. His thoughts track back to Mori and his mind starts to fog with fury. “Who sent me? What are you-Dazai-I want you because I care about you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

The fog clears, Dazai stares at you blankly, hands loosening on your hips. He's not sure he heard you correctly, so he says: “What did you just say?”

Your expression softens a bit, and you repeat, “I care about you. I want you because I care about you.”

“No, you don’t,” Dazai says immediately. Instinctually.

“Yes, I do.” Dazai has never seen you get irritated before, but your face twists when he instantly denies your words. “I do, Dazai.”

“You don’t,” he insists. “You can’t. You don’t even know me, you don't care about me.”

He thinks he almost would have preferred that you had some ulterior motive to this. He hates the way his chest swells with hope—hope is dangerous, more dangerous than any other emotion. Fear, anger, sadness, none of it compares to the light that tries to bloom within his rotted chest. He tries to cut it off before it can spread, but it’s notoriously hard to snuff out; it clings to anything it can get a hold on even as he tries to push it away. 

The idea is… more tempting than he expected. It’s concerning, that should be enough to clear his head, but it’s not. His fingers cling to your shirt desperately, he searches your face, trying to find the sparest indication that you may be lying.

He finds none.

Still, Dazai knows better. He knows this won’t last. you’ll find out who he was, all of the things he did, and then you’ll leave him. You’ll see him for what he is, and you’ll leave him. This will never last. 

Nothing good ever does for him. 

“But I do care about you,” you insist, and you’re cruel now, because you reach out to cup his cheek and Dazai leans into your touch. He can’t help himself from it. “I care about you deeply, Dazai.”

“You can’t,” he repeats, and to his horror, his voice wavers. “You don’t know who I am, you don’t know what I’ve done, and when you do-“

“We all have skeletons in our closet, Dazai,” you interrupt him quietly. “I don't think there’s a single ability user out there that doesn’t. I don't need to know your past to know I care about you.”

That’s not true, he wants to say, but can’t force the words out. Instead, he says hoarsely, “It would change how you see me. I'm not who you think I am. I’m-”

A monster. A demon. His blood is black—has been since the day he was born, will be until the day he dies. He is not someone who should be cared for. He's someone who should be left to rot, someone the world would be better off without. He doesn’t deserve this, not when there are so many other people in the world who are unfailingly good and do deserve it. 

“It won’t,” you say again, but Dazai knows it’s not true, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know how awful he is. You don’t give him the chance to protest though. “I care about who you are today. I care about who you are tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. Not who you were months ago. The past is the past, Dazai, leave it there.”

“It's not that simple,” he rasps. 

“It can be,” you say softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, “if you let it.”

“It can’t be that simple,” he disagrees. There’s an odd lilt to the voice—pleading, almost, begging you not to give him hope only to rip it away when the truth inevitably comes to light. “It can’t.”

“It can for us,” you tell him again, and Dazai finds himself believing you. Wanting to believe you. Wanting to believe things can just be that simple. That easy. 

“Why?” Dazai breathes out, eyes searching your face for answers. “Why me? Why not someone…”

Someone better. Someone good. Someone deserving. 

“Because you’re you,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, you lean down to ghost your lips against his and it fogs his brain with a pleasant warmth he’s only ever felt with you. “Do I need a reason more than that?”

Dazai wants to say yes, because him being him is a reason for you to not want him. He’s despicable, he’s cruel, he lashed out at you for weeks all the while forcing himself into your space because he wanted to be near you but didn’t understand why. 

“I love your smile,” you say, thumb running along his bottom lip, “and I love even more when I’m the reason for it.”

“But-“

“And I love your eyes,” you continue, fingers trailing up his face to trace under his eyes. “I think they’re the prettiest shade of brown I’ve ever seen.”

“I know that’s not true,” he rasps—he knows very well that his eyes are unnerving, too black and too empty. People have been unable to look him in the eye for long even when he was a kid. “I-“

“But most of all, it’s just you,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. “You make me happy. I like being around you. I always look forward to the time we get to spend together—missions, at work, after work. I’ll take you in whatever way I can get, Dazai.”

You don’t let him avert his gaze this time, you force him to look at you, force him to see the truth of your words reflected in the adoration on your face. No one has ever looked at him like this before, and it makes him feel bare. Seen. He’s always felt seen with you, but never like this.

“I was… mean to you.” He still tries to argue with you, lashes fluttering shut. “I was cruel for months because-“

You laugh at him. “Mean? You were like a puppy trying to snap at my hand to scare me off.”

Dazai gapes. “A puppy?” he demands, seriously offended. “Don’t compare me to a dog. I’m more like a… A…”

“A…?” you press, a pretty smile flickering at your lips.

“A panther,” he supplies confidently.

“A kitten,” you correct.

Dazai groans dramatically, flinging his head back, but he finds himself smiling. He finds his chest full of warmth, light and bubbly, and when he looks back up at you to meet your eyes, he finds the same emotion swimming on your face. He thinks again that no one has ever looked at him like this before—not with such fondness, not with adoration, not with…

No, Dazai doesn’t dare think that word.

“I care about you too,” he admits. He’s hesitant, like he’s scared to say the words out loud.

“Even with all of the skeletons hidden in my closet?” you tease, leaning down to brush your lips against his again, and then a second time, and then a third. He basks in it, eyes sliding shut as you kiss him gently—it takes a few moments for your words to register.

“They’re not worse than mine,” he replies, the pads of his fingers running up and down your thighs absently. After a couple of seconds pass, he asks, “… What skeletons do you have?”

You tilt your head to the side and say playfully, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Dazai isn’t ready for that, so he just tosses you a smile and a wink before murmuring, “How about you show me something else instead?”

You laugh at that, tossing your head back and giggling so genuinely that your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound. His lips part to make another suggestive comment, but he finds himself breathless at the sight of you. 

You’re beautiful, and Dazai can’t help but think again that he doesn’t deserve this. You.

“Deal,” you agree.

This time when you lean down to press your lips against his, Dazai’s hands are content to rest on your thighs. His fingers don’t itch to wrangle control from you, and his mind isn’t plagued with paranoia-induced thoughts.

He thinks, maybe, that he can get used to this. Used to you.

[sassybluebird]

Sticky Fingers

warnings: SMUT!! minors dni. some fluff. friends to lovers. switch!azriel. unprotected sex. oral (male and female receiving). underwear fetish. a bit of voyeurism. azriel is an after care king. wing play. shadow play. i really threw the kitchen sink at this one so lmk if i missed anything!

word count: ~7k WHOOPS my fingers slipped.

a/n: reader matches azriel’s freak!! this is more fleshed out continuation of this little piece AND my first ever azriel fic. for the sake of this story, let’s just assume that you can winnow to The House of Wind because let’s be fr, only being able to fly or walk up the 10,000 steps would be such an inconvenience. and to the one person who asked for this @darkbloodsly …. thank you ❤️

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Azriel’s little escapade in your bedroom a few weeks ago had been one of the most exciting things he’d done in quite some time. It was also one of the most violating. After he had returned to his room with your obscenely tiny pair of panties, he had been filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Shame. Guilt. Self loathing. But underneath all of that, the desire remained, unchecked and unbound.

Which is probably why every couple of days since that incident, he found himself staking out your room, waiting on you to leave The House so he could go in and rummage through your underwear drawer freely. He found that you had acquired a very intriguing collection. Several lacy black pairs, a pair that was a deep red and made of the softest silk, a strappy blue pair that he felt perfectly matched his siphons.

He couldn’t help but to let his mind run rampant, picturing you in every single one, picturing himself pulling them off of you. However, today’s discovery may have just been his most favorite of all.

Unsure of how he missed them all the times before, Azriel’s eyes caught on a light shade of pink. Digging to the very bottom of the drawer, he grasped the lovely material and pulled it free.

While not as daring or extravagant as some of the other items in your trove, this pair was sinfully soft and seemed so unlike anything you would normally wear. Instantly taken with the dainty pink shade and the tiny little bow adorning the front, Azriel decided that these would be his prize of the day.

Pocketing the skimpy undergarment, he sent several of his shadows through the house to ensure you were still out running errands. When they reported that the coast was clear, Azriel silently made his way down the hall and back to his own quarters.

A sick thrill went through his body and curled low in his stomach as he closed the door behind him. He pulled your lovely pink panties out of his pocket and studied them once more. Gods he should not be as turned on as he was by a pair of fucking underwear, but they were yours and they had touched you more intimately than he knew he ever would, no matter how often he dreamed of that.

Typically, Azriel held off on this part until it was late at night and everyone had already gone to sleep… but The House was empty for the next few hours and his cock was already painfully straining against his pants.

Fuck it. Pushing off the door, he made quick work of his clothes as he crossed the room to his large bed.

Laying back against his dark, plush pillows, Azriel made himself comfortable, tuning everything in the world out except for the thought of you and these godsdamned panties.

He palmed himself gently at first, the head of his cock already flushed and leaking with anticipation.

He imagined what your hands would feel like against him, how big he would look in your smaller hands, how you would stroke him. Would you prefer to pleasure him soft and tenderly? Or would you set a punishing pace with a tight grip? Azriel knew that he would let you touch him anyway you wanted to, he would let you do anything you wanted to him.

He let depraved images of all kinds fill his mind. He let himself imagine what your soft skin would feel like under his touch, let himself imagine what beautiful sounds he could pull from you. Azriel knew it was unlikely he would ever truly know, considering he had never allowed himself to openly pursue you. However, he supposed he would settle for your panties.

Finding the delicate fabric beside him on the bed, he brought the soft material that carried your sweet scent to his aching member. He shuddered at the first touch and let out a deep groan at the sensation. Several of his shadows trailed down his body, the cool sensation only adding to his pleasure. They always got rather excited when he used your undergarments in this way.

Seeing your panties against him like this always brought about a feeling of wrongness that only served to turn Azriel on even more. Now, watching the pink cloth and that fucking little bow caress his cock, he was fairly certain this could count as a sin.

And damn if that didn’t make his blood pump all the faster.

Fisting your panties against his cock, Azriel let his head fall back, soft black curls splaying upon his pillow. He allowed his mind continue to run wild with thoughts of you, deep guttural groans and soft moans of your name slipping from his lips.

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You opened the front door to The House, finding the place quiet. Which made sense considering Cassian had matters to tend to in Illyria this evening, and you were supposed to meet Nesta for dinner in just a little while. Azriel most likely had plans of his own that he almost never felt inclined to share.

You had been out running errands for the last few hours, but the evening had proved to be chillier than you anticipated. You decided to just run home and grab a sweater, assuming you would probably be out late with Nesta. Kicking off your shoes by the door, you made for the stairs.

As soon as you rounded the corner to your hallway, you were greeted by several of Azriel’s shadows.

Suppose he is here then.

The wispy tendrils wrapped themselves around you and begin to gently tug you down the hall. Confused but curious, you followed along hesitantly.

“Is everything okay?” You knew you would never get a response, but you always had a habit of speaking to Azriel’s shadows. You were actually very fond of them.

Several of the shadows trailed up your arms and twined into your hair. Apparently they had grown fond of you as well. The feeling of them against your skin was always something you enjoyed, and you found their presence to be very comforting.

You allowed them to lead you past your own bedroom door and down the hall to Az’s room. You found a few more shadows waiting outside, and they too greeted you warmly. Tugging you forward, the shadows continued to urge you towards the door. “I-I don’t understand…” you whispered to the wisps of darkness.

“(Y/N).”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and for a moment you questioned if you were hearing things. But you had heard your name, however faint. You were certain of it.

You raised your hand to knock on the door, not wanting to just barge in to Azriel’s room, even if he had presumably called out to you.

Before your fist could make contact with the wood, some of the shadows darted out, turning the knob and silently pushing the door open. You were certain your heart stopped beating as you took in the sight in front of you.

Azriel. With his head tossed back. Face dusted with pink. Large wings splayed across his bed, eyes screwed shut, plump lips parted, legs spread wide, tendrils of shadows trailing down his body.

And he was stark naked.

Oh gods. You should walk away. You should close the door and pretend you never even came home. But by the mother, he was pumping himself with his hand, hips bucking up in response, and you couldn’t help but drink in the beautiful sight and the lovely sounds tumbling from his lips.

This was wrong. You should not be here. You weren’t sure why his shadows had pulled you to his room, but Azriel’s lack of awareness of your presence made it clear this was not intended. And the longer you stood here, watching like a fucking pervert, the stronger the pulsing between your legs grew.

Suddenly your eyes caught on a piece of pink fabric clutched against Azriel’s… well, extremely large member. You quickly took note of the familiar tiny bow peaking out from his hand and you thought your heart was going to break free from your ribcage and leave you standing here like the fool that you were.

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Azriel was lost in his darkest fantasies. He wasn’t sure if it was the long week he had, or the way you had looked in that dress that fit you just right before you had left The House this afternoon, but he just completely gave himself to the pleasure.

And gods he could smell you, stronger than any other time before. Your lovely scent entrapped within the fabric of your panties seemed thicker, sweeter… headier.

Azriel’s eyes flew open, shooting to the other side of the room and he saw you, standing there. Face tinged with red, eyes wide, and chest heaving against your dress.

And he wanted to die.

With an unspoken command, the mass of his shadows flocked to him, some of them unfurling themselves from where they had been twinning around you, and came to conceal his naked form. of course he had left his clothes halfway across the room.

He pushed himself up off the bed and felt heat crawling up his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He literally could not imagine a worse scenario than this.

Fuck, you would probably hate him after this. This would ruin your friendship for sure. You would want to move out of The House, far far away from him and his demented perversions. Azriel’s mind, once filled with glorious images of you, was now flooded with a whirlwind of thoughts. And none of them were good.

“(Y/N) I-I can explain-“ Azriel managed to stammer out. How could he explain this? He doubted there was any excuse he could come up with that wouldn’t make him look creepy. Maybe you hadn’t seen the panties? He could perhaps say they weren’t yours, even if you had seen, but he wasn’t sure how long you had been standing there.

“Those are mine.” You simply stated, as if you were telling him the sky was blue.

“I…. Well, I-“ gods be damned, this would be a good time to be able to form a cohesive thought. But his racing heart and overwhelming mortification were short circuiting his brain.

“And you said my name.” You took a step forward into the doorway. Azriel’s shadows were obscuring the majority of his body, and at your words, they seemed to grow all the more restless.

Azriel briefly considered winnowing out of his room and fleeing Velaris- No, Prythian. “(Y/N) I am so sorry, shit, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry. I-I know this is so wrong-“

You took another step forward. Well, you were already knee deep in this horrifically embarassing situation, for both of you it seemed. You may as well see where this takes you. “You can continue… if you are comfortable doing so, that is.”

Azriel’s heart stopped beating for probably the hundredth time in the last 5 minutes. “I… what?” His hazel eyes scanned your face for any sign of mockery or judgment or disgust.

“I was enjoying the show. Quite thoroughly, I must admit.” Your heart was thundering, and you were terrified of what Azriel might think. But you felt the overwhelming need to own up to invading his privacy, to watching him. To take control of this situation.

And he had very clearly been thinking of you… “If you are alright with it, you can carry on. Don’t feel like you must though. I can also leave if you’d like.” You motioned behind you to the door.

“You… aren’t angry with me?” Azriel’s shadows dissipated slightly, now he was visible to you from the chest up.

“Do I seem angry to you?” You asked, managing a smirk that you hoped made you look braver than you truly felt.

Azriel allowed himself to take you in fully now. You had been shocked, yes, but there was also something else dancing in your eyes. And your scent was slightly different than usual. He took a deep breath in, mind going quiet. You were aroused. “No. I suppose you don’t seem angry.”

Azriel allowed his shadows to slowly leave him, some of them choosing to return to you. A chill ran down his spine as he watched your eyes drink in his bare form.

He took a couple steps backward until he could rest on the edge of the bed.

He searched your face again, wanting to ensure that this was really alright with you. Finding no signs of discomfort, he plucked the dainty undergarment from the bedspread and began to tentatively work the material against his still hard cock. “Is this… what you wanted to see?”

Your chest began to rise and fall quickly again and you sucked in a breath at the sight of him. “Yes…” you sighed out, fingers going to the clasp of your dress at your neck. You quickly undid the mechanism and let the material fall and pool at your bare feet.

Azriel’s eyes widened and he let out a soft moan at the beautiful sight. You weren’t wearing a bra and stood before him in only your underwear, the tiny, lacey black pair that had originally caught his eye the very first time he thieved from your chambers.

What in the seven hells was happening? He decided not to question it, tightening his grip on his member and began to stroke more confidently.

Your eyes were glued to him, wandering from his proud wings, across his gorgeous face, down his heavily tattooed chest and muscled stomach, all the way to his scarred hand fisting your fucking panties against himself.

You had desired Azriel for so long, but he never pursued you beyond friendship. The male was notoriously difficult to read, and you were always too afraid to go beyond simply flirting with him in case he truly wasn’t interested in you. You never in your wildest dreams could have imagined this.

You took a few more steps forward, brushing your fingers against the erect tips of your breasts, sighing at the sensation. The pounding between your legs had amplified to an all out ache, and you were more than eager to find out just how far Azriel would let this go.

You now stood before him, between his spread legs, eyes locked to his hazel ones. You brushed back a stray lock of his dark hair, and lightly ran your fingers across his flushed cheek. “Do you enjoy pleasuring yourself with my panties Shadowsinger?” You let your eyes drift back down to where he worked himself.

Azriel was reveling in your sweet touches and felt there was no reason to attempt to deny the claim now. “Yes.” He groaned.

You felt a sudden surge of power, his words stroking your ego like his hand stroked his cock. “And is this the first time you’ve stolen a pair from my room for this purpose?”

Azriel tried to avert his eyes, still feeling ashamed of his actions, but your hand gripped his chin and turned his gaze up to meet yours. If his senses weren’t currently being overwhelmed with the scent of your arousal and you weren’t staring down at him like you wanted to devour him, he would have thought this was some cruel attempt to get him to confess. “No.” He answered honestly.

You smirked at his admittance and you could feel your panties growing more soaked by the second. You dropped to your knees before him and you could not deny that he looked like a god above you. He was absolutely divine. And your face was a mere foot from his cock. This was not at all how you had expected your evening to go, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

You took in the sight of his swollen tip, shaded an angry color of red from lack of release. His pre-cum had soaked both his member and the fabric of your panties, leaving him glistening in the evening light

“Fuck, you are so hard.”

Azriel moaned in response, as he watched you with curious eyes. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he loved that you were here with him, and seemed to be just as turned on as he was.

You inched your face a little closer, leaning between his thick thighs. “Oh Azzie, this seems rather uncomfortable. Would you allow me to help you?” You crooned as you looked up at him through your lashes.

Azriel felt like he could die happily any moment now. That nickname and the image of you, between his legs, staring up at him like that, was something that would stick with him long past the grave. However, a thousand protests rose to his mind.

He didn’t want you to feel like you had to do this. He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to, that you shouldn’t, because he was unworthy of your touch. But he stopped himself.

Everything told him that you wanted this too, wanted him. As hard as it was to believe, he did not think you would be here, responding so… positively, if you didn’t want to. However unworthy he felt that he was, he felt the desire to be selfish more.

He had dreamed of this for so long, and now the opportunity to have you, in whatever capacity, finally has arisen. He would be damned if he didn’t seize it.

“Yes. Please.” He didn’t care if the plead sounded pathetic. He needed you to touch him. Now.

With a grin that could only be described as devilish, you gently grasped his wrist, urging his hand away from his member. He still clutched the now spoiled pink panties in his hand. You tenderly pulled them from his grip, unbunching the material and letting it dangle in the space between you two.

You studied the damp fabric, glancing between it and Azriel’s face. “You’ve made such a pretty mess of these Az. I can tell how much you like them.”

Beyond words and drowning in anticipation, Azriel could only muster a nod in response.

You tossed the underwear across the room to join your dress. Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly gripped Azriel’s cock. You tested the waters with a gentle, almost teasing stroke and you felt him throb in your hand. You quickly glanced up at his face to see if he was still okay with this.

You found him leaned back on his palms and studying you intently, eyes half lidded and filled with desire. The look of sheer need gave you a shot of courage, and you tightened your grip slightly and increased your pace.

Azriel moaned out your name and your core turned to molten at the sound.

“Does that feel good, Az?” You cooed to him, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there.

“Gods, yes (Y/N). Touch me however you like… please.” He could not stop staring at you, your gorgeous practically naked form, and how small your hand looked wrapped around him.

This was better than any fantasy he had ever conjured up.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth at his praise, loving how it sounded in his deep voice. “How about this?” You leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, sucking gingerly.

Azriel short circuited, his entire body shuddering from the feel of your warm, wet mouth on him. He let his head loll back and his eyes flutter closed as a guttural groan reverberated from deep in his chest. “Fuck I- yes.” He gripped the blankets beneath him.

You hummed against him in response. You always felt that Azriel was too hard on himself, punishing himself for gods knew why. You were determined to spoil him with much deserved pleasure.

You licked him from root to stem before taking him deep, one hand working what you could not fit in your mouth, and the other gently caressing his balls.

Sounds that may have been considered embarrassing to some males, spewed from Azriel. He could not help it, nor did he care to hide them. You were making him feel this good and you deserved to hear that. “Sweet girl, shit- that feels incredible.” He growled.

As you continued your ministrations, Azriel worked a hand into your hair. Not forcing your head down, or applying any pressure, just reverently caressing your locks. He finally peered down at you again, discovering you staring back up at him, head bobbing up and down his length and moaning around him. He noticed you had brought one of your hands between your legs and were grinding your clothed cunt against your palm.

You were going to kill him.

You were going to suck him within an inch of his life, and the sight of you touching yourself to pleasuring him was going to send him on to the after life.

Just as Azriel was about to pull you off of him, you released his cock with a pop of your lips. You stood then, placing your hands on Azriel’s firm chest and urging him backwards. “Lay in the center of the bed for me please, Azzie.” You asked sweetly.

Azriel nodded and found himself scrambling backwards, doing as you said and moving to lay back. Azriel rarely ever relinquished control in the bedroom, preferring to service his lovers to their liking. However, he felt very comfortable following your lead and this was actually really lovely. Well, it was far beyond lovely.

You moved to hover over him, straddling his waist and you felt a thrill surge through your body at the sight of the massive Illyrian warrior beneath you. “Is it alright if I try something else?” You asked, still unsure about how much Azriel wanted from you.

He gingerly grasped your hand, one of the first few touches he had allowed himself since this all began, and guided it to his chest where he pinned it beneath his own larger hand. “Of course,” he rasped, “I told you already. Touch me however you like… I am yours.” The admission was vulnerable, but felt so right to him.

Your heart clenched at his words and you nodded, lowering your hips to his. You began to slowly, but firmly grind your still clothed pussy against his length, loosing an airy moan in response to the glorious contact.

“I bet my panties feel much better like this, hm?” You leaned down to murmur in his ear, nipping at his lobe.

Azriel shuddered underneath you, wings twitching against the sheets. “Y-yes, (Y/N). So much better.” His hands hesitantly reached up to grip your waist, giving you time to protest if you wanted. When you showed no objections, he tightened his hold on you and pulled you down against him, harder. Azriel delighted in the noise he drew from you.

He continued dragging your hips across him, both of you breathless at the sensation. “Gods above, you are so gorgeous…” He let one hand travel up to your breast, stroking a thumb across a hard nipple and smiling to himself when you cried out.

“Would you like to see what you’ve done to me?” You breathed against his neck, a hand tracing circles against his chest.

Azriel nodded, then almost protested when you pulled away from him. That was until he saw you standing at the end of the bed, slowly shimmying out of your panties. His breath hitched to see you completely and utterly bare before him, then sputtered out of him when he took in the way you crawled up the bed towards him.

Kneeling beside him, you pressed the soaked cotton of your underwear into Azriel’s hand. “You’ve turned me into a complete mess Az…” you confessed.

Azriel took in the absolutely drenched material, and let out an almost animalistic groan when he scented your arousal coating the fabric. “All of this is for me? I’ve barely gotten the chance to touch you yet.” He would be lying if he said that wasn’t a major boost to his ego.

He slipped an arm around your waist and turned, pinning you beneath him and slotting himself between your legs. “Let me change that…”

He pressed messy kisses along the length of your neck, sharp teeth grazing over a particularly sensitive area. Azriel reveled in the sound of your breathless moan and the way you pulled him tighter.

He dipped his head to lav at a nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger before latching his lips around the sensitive bud. Azriel slid a well muscled thigh against your leaking cunt, applying just enough pressure to have you gasping for air.

He did not miss how you rocked your hips against him, desperate for friction.

Thus far, Azriel had allowed you to take the lead, to show him how much you wanted from him, making him feel better than anyone ever had before. Now, Azriel wanted to return the favor and show you how good he can make you feel.

He kissed a path between your breasts and down your stomach, glancing up to find your bottom lip between your teeth and eyes pressed closed. He worked his way lower, and lower, until all he could smell was your heated sweetness.

He inhaled deeply, and let out a long breath that fanned against your sensitive cunt, causing chills to erupt all over your body.

Guiding each of your legs over his shoulders, his hands found purchase on your thighs, spreading you open for him. He placed a couple of gentle nips along the inside of your thigh, before softly asking “Is this alright?”

“Yes. Gods, yes.” You excitedly nodded your head, as if you took too long to answer he may change his mind. Although, a quick glance down at Azriel’s face told you that wasn’t the case. He stared up at you like you were his favorite meal. You lifted your hips slightly, urging yourself closer to his mouth.

He huffed a laugh before pinning you back down to the bed. “Try to stay still for me, sweet girl. Want to make you feel good.” And then his tongue was upon you. He licked a strip right up your center, expertly locating the sensitive bundle of nerves and swirling around it.

White hot pleasure shot up your spine, and you cried out. Hands searching for more contact, you reached down and entangled your fingers in his dark locks, Azriel rewarding you with a low growl when you pulled slightly.

His mouth was maddening. It was like he already knew all of your favorite things as he stroked your clit with the warm velvet of his tongue. Every time you managed to crack your eyes open, you found hazel ones staring back at you, full of hunger and reverence. He kept your hips throughly pinned down, leaving you no choice but to take everything he was giving you.

Suddenly, you felt a cool brush against your collar bone and looked down to find several of his shadows curiously exploring you. The inky tendrils wound themselves around your nipples, the ghost of a touch just enough to drive you crazy, just as Azriel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

Every thought in your head ceased to exist and your back arched away from the sheets. A wanton scream tore its way up your throat and you fisted Azriel’s hair tightly, which only seemed to spur him on more.

“Fuck Azriel, there- yes!” You babbled as his grip on your hips loosened slightly, allowing you to wind your hips against his mouth. And mother above he was moaning into your pussy and… oh gods.

You raised your head and watched him unabashedly rut into the mattress, just as needy as you were.

And that was nearly your breaking point. Seeing this beautiful male, wings spread behind him, letting you fuck yourself on his face, shadows twining around your body. You were not like to forget this as long as you lived.

Right as you teetered on the edge of oblivion, you pulled him off of you quickly. “Azriel… need you. Want to cum on your cock. Please.”

“As you wish.” Azriel rose slowly, chin glistening with your slick, and placed his aching cock where his face had just been.

He leaned down and studied your pretty face intently, sliding one scarred hand to your jaw. He then pressed his lips against yours, the kiss searing his very soul.

This was the first time his lips had ever touched yours, other than that one drunken night when you all had played spin the bottle. Although that kiss had kept him up for many nights, it was nothing like this.

“Can you taste yourself? Can you taste how sweet you are? Could spend an eternity with my face between those beautiful legs…” Az mumbled against you.

“Y-yes. I want you to show me more of what you can do with that mouth another time.” You grinned up at him.

Another time. His heart leapt at that. Azriel had not allowed himself to think past this moment, for fear that this could be the first and only time he experienced you this way. Yes, he could show you everything he knew and more.

Grabbing the base of his cock, he lined himself up with your entrance, and pressed his forehead against yours. He ever so slightly began to push in. You were soaking wet, but you were also extremely tight and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

The stretch burned, but not in a way that was painful, just uncomfortable. Holy gods he was huge. You felt his shadows run up and down your arms in a soothing caress, Azriel’s hand at your waist mimicking their motions.

Once his hips were flush with yours, you both sat utterly still, chests heaving against each other. Azriel fought back the urge to thrust as he allowed your body to adjust to his size. “Are you alright, Princess?” He cooed, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Yes… Azzie. Please.” You began to squirm underneath him, unable to patiently wait any longer.

“I know, sweet girl. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He brushed a loose strand of hair back that had fallen into your face.

“I appreciate your concern Azriel, but I will die if you don’t move. I need you to move.” You pleaded, fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

Without another moment of hesitation, Azriel slowly drew out of you before pressing back in to the hilt. He had never, never, felt anything as good as this before. He knew that with just the first fucking stroke, he was losing himself to you

“Fucking hells (Y/N). You’re so godsdamned tight… feel so good on my cock sweet girl.”

You cried out at both the sensation and his words, any feelings of discomfort giving way to burning hot pleasure as Azriel fucked you slow and deep. The normally stoic and reserved Shadowsinger was passionate, shocking you with how intently and thoroughly he was loving you.

Azriel angled his hips, rutting in to you at a slightly faster pace now. He buried his face deep into your neck, panting and moaning like he was young male all over again. He was trying his best to fuck you the way you deserved, but it was already so difficult to not unravel completely.

“Azriel…” you moaned his name like it was a prayer, “gods you’re so big… stretching me out just right. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.” You pulled his face to yours for another searing kiss, carding your fingers through his soft hair.

Azriel was genuinely surprised that you had thought about this with him, and the confession only turned him on more. He sped up his pace more, pulling back slightly to watch you.

And you stared back at him. You took in the massive wings looming behind Azriel, noticing how they twitched every so often, like they were restless. You remembered one drunken night that Azriel had admitted to you that the rumors about Illyrian wings were in fact true, but that he very rarely felt comfortable enough to allow his lovers to actually touch them.

You wanted so badly to run your fingers down the beautiful membrane. Not only to see his reaction for yourself, but also because you wanted to feel special to him.

Maybe that was foolish, and maybe this whole situation was no more than a manifestation of your shared physical attraction and nothing more. But you could not stop yourself from wanting. “Az… may I touch your wings?” You asked nervously, afraid to ruin the moment.

Azriel drove home a particularly deep stroke, causing you to cry out and tremble around him. His hand came up to guide your eyes to his, and his stare was molten. “I’ve already told you baby, touch me however you like.”

Your heart squeezed at the fact that he felt safe enough with you to allow you to touch him in a way he rarely let others.

You nodded, taking in his words through the haze of pleasure. You reached out slowly, fingertips just inches from his wings. “H-how?” Your hand remained hovering in the air, unsure.

He huffed a laugh that turned into a groan as his hips met yours. “However feels natural to you. There’s no wrong way, just be gentle.” He extended a wing, offering you better access.

You searched his face for any signs of discomfort or hesitancy. Finding none, you simply nodded and ever so lightly grazed your finger tips across the ridge of his wing.

Azriel’s entire body went taught as a bowstring before he shook, the most delectable whimper working its way out of him. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs and began to draw quick, tight circles against it.

You were certain the entirety of Velaris could hear your sounds of pleasure now. You placed another exploratory stroke on a different part of his wing, and continued when you saw the way Azriel’s eyes screwed shut and his brow furrowed.

“If you keep doing that you are going to make me-“ Azriel was interrupted when the soft pads of your fingers rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot.

His hips faltered, a string of curses tumbling from his lips as he went careening over the edge and into the abyss of ecstasy, crying out your name and hips snapping against yours.

At the feel of his fingers against your clit, his shadows caressing your body, and his warm seed pumping deep inside you, you came completely undone on his cock. Consumed by burning pleasure, all thoughts eddied out of your brain except for Azriel.

For several moments the two of you remained there, chests heaving against each other, both attempting to unscramble your minds. Azriel eventually pulled out rather reluctantly. “Sit tight.” He murmured against your heated skin, before disappearing from sight.

Minutes later, Azriel reappeared with a wet rag in one hand and a glass of ice water in the other. He set the glass on the table before turning back to you, using the rag to clean you up. “Are you alright?” His eyes flickered between your face and his hands.

You nodded, a grin blooming on your face. “I think I’m more than alright Az. Are you alright?” You parroted his question back to him.

“Yeah. Yes. I am… maybe a little surprised that we somehow ended up here, but I’m glad that we did.” He offered you a grin to match your own that showed his dimples.

His hand found your back, helping you to sit up, and he situated you against the mountain of pillows on his bed before handing you the glass of water. “Here. Drink.”

You accepted the refreshing drink greedily, drinking about half the glass in just a few gulps. Offering the drink back to Azriel, you cleared your throat. “I myself am surprised as well. This was… not really what I expected of my evening. Or ever honestly.” You gave a small shrug.

Azriel settled in beside you, pulling the fluffy duvet up to cover you both. “(Y/N) I do really need to apologize for what I did-what I’ve been doing…” he studied his lap intently, suddenly finding the bed spread mighty interesting.

“It was wrong. Very wrong. I shouldn’t have entered your room without your permission, let alone rummage through your dresser and…” he trailed off, feeling red hot shame creep up his neck.

“And steal my underwear?” You finished for him, brows raising in amusement.

“Yes. That. It was an extreme invasion of your privacy, and wrong on so many levels. If you never want to speak of this again, or never want to speak to me again… I would understand.” Azriel could not bring himself to look at you, to see what you might be feeling.

You gripped his jaw, guiding his gaze back to you. “Az… I told you already, I’m not angry with you. I felt like I proved that rather thoroughly, but I will say it again. You are my friend Azriel. None of this changes that fact. If you are open to it, I’d actually like to do more of… this.” You motioned between the two of you and gave him a big smile.

“I-I am definitely open to it. I would like that very much. I guess you could say I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while now…” Azriel glanced at you with heated cheeks and a dimple peeking out as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound making Azriel’s heart jump in his chest. “Well I guess I can now admit that the feeling is mutual.” You snuggled down into the pillows further, cherishing the warmth of his body next to yours.

Azriel turned to you, propping his head up on a fist. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. I was actually supposed to meet Nesta for dinner.” You glanced to the window in Azriel’s room, noticing that the sun had already slipped below the ridge. “She is probably pissed I stood her up, but there’s no sense in going now… and I’d like to stay with you.”

Azriel grinned at you then. “Well perhaps you would consider sharing a meal with me? We can stay here if you want.”

You agreed eagerly and Azriel offered you one of his large, but incredibly soft shirts to wear even though your room was just down the hall. You cherished the feel of the material against your otherwise naked body, his scent surrounding you, the shirt reaching your knees. It made you feel special.

Azriel had the house whip you up your favorite foods and the two of you stayed in his room for the remainder of the evening, chatting and swapping stories as usual. However things definitely felt…. different between the two of you. But in a good way. In the best way.

You must have dozed off eventually, because you awoke to the early morning sun spilling in through Azriel’s parted curtains. You quickly realized that Azriel himself was curled around you, one arm slung over your waist and your back pressed to his chest.

Feeling you stir, he mumbled a groggy good morning, voice rough with sleep. You would be lying if you said the sound didn’t send heat straight to your core all over again.

You turned in his grip to face him, “good morning…” you brushed a couple of your wild strands of hair back from your face and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry if I have over stayed my welcome. I didn’t intend to fall asleep here last night.” You studied his face for any sign of annoyance.

One side of his lips tipped up in a lazy grin, revealing a dimple. “Nonsense. I’ve enjoyed your company... even if you did snore.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, face growing hot. “I do not snore Azriel! I think I would know if I did.” You protested, brow furrowing.

Azriel’s grin only grew, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “And how would you know that?”

“Well I’ve never had any complaints about it before.” You explained, praying to the gods that you actually didn’t snore the very first night you ever spent in Azriel’s bed.

Tracing lazy circles on your side, Azriel’s eyes perused your form. You looked so beautiful wrapped in his huge shirt, blankets pulled up over your hips, hair askew in a thousand different directions.

“Perhaps they were just too polite to mention it?” His gaze flicked back up to yours, unable to hide his full on smile at your flustered responses to his teasing.

“You could have done me the same courtesy, asshole.” You shoved his bare chest playfully causing a laugh to spill from Azriel’s lips. Despite what happened yesterday, things felt… comfortable.

You reluctantly untangled yourself from his arms, sitting up to stretch. “I better go inform Nesta that I’m still alive. She’s probably assuming someone kidnapped me last night.”

“I pity the person who would try to kidnap you.” Azriel placed an arm behind his head, watching you shuffle out of the bed, secretly wishing you would stay longer.

You snorted. “True. I also better find a peace offering to give her as well, as an apology for flaking on our dinner date.” You turned to Azriel then, drinking in the sight of him sprawled on his back, blankets pooling around his waist, tattoos swirling down his bare chest and arms. Gods, he was delectable and you wanted to jump his bones all over again.

Azriel was staring at you as well, admiring the length of your bare legs and how his shirt hung down to almost your knees. A surge of male satisfaction flowed through him at the sight. “I think that’s a good idea. I apologize for ruining your plans.” Azriel wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

You gave him another big smile, something you found happening very frequently when he was around. “You can ruin my plans anytime you’d like Shadowsinger.” You began gathering your belongings, preparing to make the trek down the hall to your own quarters. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Azriel nodded. “Anytime you’d like.” He parroted your earlier words back to you.

You bid Azriel goodbye and began making your way out the door, your pile of clothes filing your arms, when you heard Az call out your name.

Turning back towards him, you found him holding up your lacy black panties from yesterday, a smirk plastered on his face. “I think you’re forgetting these.”

You gave a one shouldered shrug, one corner of your lips curling to match Azriel’s. “You can just hang on to those for me.” Watching his eyes widen, you closed the door behind you, smiling all the way down the hall to your own room, and already counting down the seconds until you could see the Shadowsinger again.

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EEEEK i had SO much fun writing this!! feel free to let me know what you liked, i always appreciate feedback 🫶🏼.

[sassybluebird]

Azriel finds you in the cold.

Azriel x Reader (780 words, based on a request!, warnings: hypothermia, angst)

Masterlist here

~~

You were used to the cold. You grew up in its unforgiving teeth and clawed past winters when the bite felt almost too strong. There were methods to survive it, tactics to overcome the painful numbness that crept along your skin, but there didn’t seem to be a pattern to this cold. You were alone and this chill was with you. 

You should have listened to Azriel. 

It’s not a normal snow, he had warned, you should wait for me. But everyone seemed to forget that you were new to being fae, and when you were new, you felt invincible. You could live through the winters of your mortal years without a second thought. You couldn’t die from snow or ice or sleet. 

Or, so you thought. 

You huddled against the tree trunk, your fingers stinging and burning—but that didn’t make sense because the only substance that surrounded you was the blizzard. You could feel your body begin to slow, movements becoming labored when they shouldn’t. You hadn’t felt this kind of weakness since before becoming fae. 

Azriel was going to kill you; he’d be so furious to find your body here, surrounded by nothing on the outskirts of the winter court. Each soft whisper he’d pressed to your skin was loaded with adoration and praise for you being his mate above all else. He’d waited for you, he would tell you, and now you were going to die a meaningless death. 

Your grip on your cloak was concrete and rigid, but it was pointless. The snow had already seeped into the material and chilled you to the bone. 

You were tired. 

Closing your eyes seemed like the right decision. Sleep would help you gain the strength to sift through the white haze and find the border to these lands. 

Your lashes brushed your cheek and darkness felt warm. 

Until the incessant tug at your ribs became unbearable. Until a voice was calling you home and the concept of home ticked your heart rate up a beat. 

“Open your eyes. Please,” the voice stressed. Your body was numb and nothing was coherent over the whistling wind. 

There was pressure on your face and the air felt more stagnant, but everything else remained unchanged. 

Going against every muscle and desire in your being, you fought the weight of your eyelids and were met with the image of Azriel in the blistering cold. He was wrapped up to his neck as you were, but he was taking all of it off. 

“No,” you mumbled, the word barely a sound in the wind. 

Azriel’s gaze snapped up to you, his hands still clutching the scarf he was prying from his shoulders. His hands, with no gloves to cover his skin, cupped your cheeks. You couldn’t feel the heat of his skin, but you could feel the quivering of his fingers. 

“Good,” he seemed to mumble to himself. “Good, you’re awake. Okay, okay…” 

It was nonsensical and your brain was far too muddled to make sense of it. You only raised the dead weight of your arm to wrap stiff fingers around the material of his cloak. 

“Keep… it on,” you whispered. 

A spark of something shot across Azriel’s face. His lips parted as snow settled on his brow. “I need to take it off. I need to get you warm.” 

You let out a shuddering breath. Azriel, with his brows painfully furrowed, watched you for only a second more before he continued his motion to get you pressed to more of his skin and wrap the remaining area of his winter wear around you. 

“I love you, do you hear me?” Azriel spoke by your ear, the tone of his voice unwavering despite how his body shook. As if he wanted the strength to seep into your bones and warm you. As if that would work. 

He stood with you in his arms, your body now jarred by the change in temperature. He was moving quickly but not flying. Through a bleary blink, you saw the ice forming on the juncture of his wings.

“Answer me, y/n,” Azriel demanded.

“I’m tired,” you replied. 

“I know. I need to get past the border and then we’ll be home. You can sleep then, but not before.” 

You hummed a response. 

Azriel seemed to tense beneath you. “I love you,” he repeated. “Please don’t do this.” 

You wanted to tell him that you weren’t doing anything—that it was too cold for him to be here. But in the comfort of his arms, you let the darkness of his shadows lull you to sleep. In your dreams, you heard your name, over and over. 

[sassybluebird]

A soft thing for Dabi

It's in the quiet of night, so late that neither of you should be awake, that the words escape you.

"It wasn't your fault."

They're whispered, so softly that you don't even realize you spoke them aloud until his head lifts from your chest to look at you with tired, confused eyes.

"Hm?" He nuzzles his nose into your chin, peppering soft kisses into your haw.

"It's nothing," You say softly. He takes your words at face value, or at least he seems to. Whether it's because he's not fully awake, or because he just trusts you that much, you'll never be sure. He just lays his head back down, resting his head against your chest once again.

What would he think, if you told him exactly what you were thinking? What would he think, if you told him that everything that's happened to him to make him the way he is now wasn't his fault? That it wasn't his choice to be born, to have a father like Endeavor who treated him so poorly he snapped at such a young age. That there had been no reason for him to burn himself alive over and over again just to prove a point that never should have needed to be made in the first place.

It wasn't his fault. He'd been a child. He never should have had to endure any of it.

But, like always, you keep your mouth shut. You hold him tighter, kiss his head, and whisper that you love him.

[sassybluebird]

going ice skating with Dabi and Hawks and just laughing whenever they fall <3

it's practically the end of winter but I can't get off my mind

okay contrary to popular belief i think touya shows off the he knows how to ice skate. keigo can't and he is like a baby deer on the ice.

and it's so cute, when you brought up the idea touya was actually excited to go. neither could ever really say no to you (keigo's weakness is your pout and touya is always down to go with the flow) and both thought that ice skating was a fun little date idea.

so here the three of you were downtown hosu, touya showing off by skating past keigo backwards with his hands in his pockets while the blonde clings to the walls on unsteady feet. you can't help but cackle at the sight-- you've offered your hand to him multiple times but he refuses it every time. he's determined to 'look cool' in front of you and actually skate, but you only find him endearing and dorkish.

at some point you pull off to the side and throw your legs over the wall and watch the two of them antagonize each other. keigo is trying to defend himself against touya's teasing-- it's not working.

the sight is sweet. touya looks a lot healthier since rehab and getting out of the hospital, and keigo is starting to relax and take care of himself better since taking the role of president of the hpsc. and yeah, they are happy-- you know they are. they've come to terms with their situations and their lives but in this moment, where they only have to worry about gliding (or trying) to move around the ice-- they couldn't have looked more carefree.

the sight of them makes your heart clench. touya's eyes meet yours over the makeshift rink and he grins. you can see the warmth in his eyes, there's a fire in those irises but it burns for a different reason. still hot and scorching, but not nearly as unconstrained as before.

"he looks happy," a voice speaks beside you and you practically jump at the sound of it.

"shouto!" your heart races as your head turns to find the boy standing just off to the side of you, hands clasped behind his back and staring off to the rink where his eldest brother terrorizes your boyfriend. your heart settles slowly, watching his gaze and tracing it until it lands on your two idiots. "what are you doing out in hosu?"

"i help with the rink sometimes," he shrugs halfheartedly. "patrol shift."

you hum in response but don't really say anything. your relationship with the youngest todoroki isn't the strongest, but it's there. since the war both you and touya have been trying to build a relationship with him-- with all of the todoroki siblings.

touya's head lifts and sees his younger brother standing next to you-- he lifts a hand in greeting and shouto returns it. your boyfriend's mouth moves a little to form what you know is a small smile but whether shouto knows that is beyond you. touya looks as if he's going to move to join the two of you but he can't go anywhere with keigo clinging to his arm and desperately trying not to land on his ass.

"you want to go to dinner with us? if your patrol is over any time soon," you're speaking before you can even think about it. but you can see the way shouto watches the two of them, he's moved closer to stand next to you and there's a hint of a fond smile on his lips.

shouto nods a little. if he's shocked at all about the offer his expression doesn't show it. "i'm off in thirty minutes. i'd love to join you guys."

your smile mirrors his. and yeah, touya was a little grumpy about his younger brother crashing date night with you and keigo-- but he enjoyed spending time with his younger brother.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[sassybluebird]

SECRETS SOFTLY SPOKEN

TOUYA TODOROKI X READER

summary: you’re out on the balcony with touya as he lights up a cigarette, standing in a tense silence until one of you decides to break it.

a/n: soft touya is sending me through a loop !!

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

Cool wind swept your hair from your face, pushing it behind you as your elbows rested on the cold metal railing of the balcony. The nights were beginning to get colder, more dreary and grey and bleak. The golden glow of the sun had already faded, leaving you with nothing but moonlight and the nonchalant presence of the man leaning on the railing beside you. A thick smoke surrounded you for a moment before it was swept away in the wind. Looking towards the source, you meet a pair of iridescent blue eyes, gleaming in the dim light of the moon.

“What?” He asked, tilting his head slightly as you stared, “‘f you’re expecting me to offer you one then don’t get your hopes up.”

“No, it stinks. Would it kill you to not blow it in my face for once, Touya?” You said, wafting the remaining smoke off into the night as it began to dissipate.

Touya shrugged, taking another drag from the cigarette between his fingers. This time, holding the smoke in as he spoke to you.

“What are you gonna do if I do it again?” He asked, turning towards you to purposefully blow a little of the smoke into your face before releasing the rest of it into the sky.

You sighed as he chuckled slightly, looking back out over the city. For a while, you remained in silence, taking in the silhouettes of buildings and skyscrapers, small boxes illuminated by apartment lights.

“You ever wonder what would’ve happened if your dad wasn’t such a dick to you?” You asked.

“No.”

“Maybe you’d have less attitude problems.”

“Shut up.” He sighed, a small smirk forming on his lips to hide the sadness he was beginning to feel. As quickly as it appeared, the smirk was gone, replaced with an expressionless gaze over the city, “What do you know anyway?”

“Enough to be able to tell that you do care what he thinks of you.” You say, smiling slightly at him as he rolls his eyes, staring off into the distance.

“Fuck.” He half chuckles, barely coping with the reality of the miserable, torturous life given to him, “Maybe it does matter to me, so what?”

“I dunno, maybe I just think it’d be a good idea for you to talk about it.” You meekly looked towards him, only for your eyes to meet his looking back at you.

“Oh yeah? To who?”

You rolled your eyes as he smirked at you, turning away from him, "Forget about it, then." You scoffed.

For a few moments you and Touya stood beside each other in silence, watching over the night that brought the city to an almost perfect stillness. Living the lives of criminals meant that nothing you ever did would be 'normal', whether you gave up on this lifestyle or not. Even so, you'd never imagined you'd end up here.

"You sure you want to work with the league?" Touya asked, stubbing out the butt of his cigarette on the cold steel railing. "You'll never be able to have any semblance of a normal life after this. You won't have what everyone else gets to have..."

You looked up at his as his spoke, yet his eyes stayed focussed on something in the distance, where your own eyes soon wandered. The window of an apartment opposite the balcony- a young couple standing in their living room sharing a warm embrace with bright, hopeful smiles.

"Are you willing to give that up?" He asks. The question is vague, but you suspect he's referring to the happy sight in front of you.

"I don't know." You muttered, "I don't know what I want any more."

"Yeah. Me neither." Touya says softly, shuffling ever so slightly closer to you, "I don't even know what I'm missing out on. Never been in a real relationship before anyway."

"You're kidding, right?" You asked, looking over to him.

"Nope. People aren't interested in me. Even if I was a good person, I'm pretty gross-looking." Touya sighed, looking down at his scarred forearms and the accompanying staples embedded in his hands.

"I'm sure there's someone out there who finds you attractive." You reassured, doing your utmost to conceal your own opinions of his appearance. Sure, he's covered in severe burn scars, and his flesh is being held together by staples, but still, you find him to be incredibly attractive, “You’ve got some things going for you anyway.”

“Like what?” He smirked, “Do tell.”

“I don’t know, you’ve got a pretty good physique under that dumbass jacket, the piercings you have really add to your style, your eyes are otherwordly.” You admitted, “I bet you’d look really nice if you got all dressed up.”

“Oh yeah?” Touya’s eyes drifted over to you, where you were still looking over the city. “You’re pretty good-looking too.”

Maybe, he wondered. Maybe you could find some kind of normality in this place.

[sassybluebird]

kaiser has always been uncomfortable when other people touched him.

he couldn’t help but feel like that same little kid who always had tears leaking out of his eyes every time his father laid hands on him. he can’t help but feel weak; vulnerable, even. it’s pure reflex for kaiser to slap whoever is touching him away. whether it’s a child, a woman, or a teammate. it’s all the same to him; why are they laying their hands on him?

he shows no ounce of regret when he slaps them away too harshly, when they yelp out in pain. many times, they didn’t mean to touch him. it was just an accident, they would say. well they should have just been more careful; such a stupid accident to occur, in his opinion.

but kaiser had no problem touching someone else as long as it caused some sort of discomfort to the other person.

he couldn’t care less; it made him feel…strong. powerful, even. if he was the one causing harm, then he couldn’t be hurt anymore. he wasn’t the little kid who curled up in the corner and hugging a soccer ball, he was the one making the other person curled up in the corner. and it was satisfying, it really was.

but the same discomfort comes to him whenever he’s touching someone in a way that isn’t harmful. hugs—even the ones his teammates give to him after he scores—make him feel nauseous. only after he goes to the bathroom to place his fingers and palms tightly around his neck does he finally feel better. even when he sleeps, and you accidentally touch him in the middle of his rest, he wakes up instantly, in a ready position to kick you away.

so imagine how stiff you become when kaiser lays his head on your chest, his arms around your waist, silent snores escaping him.

you don’t move in the least, your arms awkwardly at your side, and your palms turning sweaty on the couch. you slow down your breathing nearly instantly. please don’t wake up, please please please please don’t wake up.

—

sunlight cascades down on kaiser’s face as he pushes his eyes open. he yawns, but doesn’t get on. his mattress is too soft, too comfortable to—

wait, his mattress?

his bulging open, kaiser looks up and sees you asleep, a small line of drool leaking down the corner of your mouth and incoherent mumbling escaping your lips. his entire body is atop of yours, hands placed on your back as if it were meant to be placed on your body. strangely, the nausea doesn’t come. only the faint flush on his face and the tip of his ears, and the feeling of someone tugging on his heartstrings.

that someone being you, like you always do.

whether you’re cooking him something when he wakes up, or telling him about how much you love him, his heartstrings always seem to be getting pulled on when you’re around. and his eyes, they never seem to be looking anywhere but you whenever you’re around. how many goals has he silently dedicated to you at a match? how many times has he caught himself subconsciously smiling when you’re around?

and when kaiser feels himself gently brushing your hair away from your face without an ounce of discomfort his eyes fixated on your sleeping face, that’s when he knows.

you’re the one.

[sassybluebird]

SPLASH .ᐟ

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, michael kaiser, mikage reo, seishiro nagi, & meguru bachira (honourable mention) x fem!reader

synopsis. showering & bathing with your bllk husbands !

content warning. sfw !! suggestive but not really (?) but obviously lots of nakedness ノ pet names ノ mentions of menustral period, blood, & cramps in rin’s part ノ you scare the shit out of rin ノ itoshi brothers call you insults affectionately ノ you might have smacked sae’s butt ノgentleman reo ノ they’re all crazy rich men obsessed with you .

notes. 5.6k words (approx. 1k+ each) !

𝜗𝜚 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

“hmm, this should do it!” you mused, a pleased smile gracing your lips as you admired your reflection in the vanity mirror. you twirled left and right, the rose-gold satin robe flowing gracefully like liquid gold as you checked yourself from every angle.

the silk was a recent gift from sae, one he had brought back from spain, and its smooth fabric clung loosely to your body.

tonight would be like every other night when your husband was home— you were ready to indulge in your routine— taking a shower with sae. initially, you were never the clingy type, but that all changed early in your marriage;

you had accidentally walked in on him under the assumption he was still at football practice, only to be met with the sight of him under the shower, water streaming down his sculpted body. you were flashed. though startled at first, he recovered pretty quickly and nonchalantly asked you to join him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. after all, it wasn’t like it was the first time you’d seen him naked, right?

your eyes flickered to the digital display on your mirror, noting the time and cool temperature. an idea occurred to you, and you decided that maybe after the shower, you could suggest a quick dip in the pool. the weather was nice and it wasn’t too late, either.

excitedly, you rushed into the master bathroom and swung the door loudly. you caught sight of him standing beneath the showerhead in the large shower enclosure, the droplets trailing down his well-built chest, then to his toned thighs and calves, and then finally pooling at his feet. the elder itoshi’s gaze met yours and he sighed, unfazed by your entrance— this had become routine for him, too.

his eyes travelled over to the smooth robe you were wearing, immediately recognizing it as the one he had gifted you. “you look beautiful,” he said simply as he reached to turn off the water and slid open the glass door.

“thank you,” you smiled as you began to undress. the silky material slipped off your shoulders easily, bunching up at your feet on the tiled floor. he extended his hand out toward you, and you took it, stepping into the shower stall.

“careful, don’t slip,” he warned.

you rolled your eyes, giving him a light smack on his rear, which made him frown slightly– he was usually the one doing that to you, not the other way around. you slid the door closed and retorted with a cheeky grin, “please, who do you think i am?”

he flicked your forehead gently and turned the water back on. “you say that every time but somehow still manage to slip, stupid.”

as the cool water hit your skin, you looked up at sae with a pout. “baby, the water’s too cold. i’ve told you before, i’d love it if you warmed it up whenever i enter.”

“yeah, yeah, what a spoiled princess,” he muttered, shooting you a half-assed glare before adjusting the temperature to your liking. you couldn’t help but smirk. there’s something you and only you could know— sae loved to spoil you like crazy during your showers, and that is precisely why you allowed yourself to play the role of a spoiled brat, knowing he would not mind and rather entertain it.

you wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him and purposely fluttering your soft lashes. he grunted, recognizing the familiar look of expectation in your serene eyes. he looked up at the shelf that held various bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. 

“which body wash do you want this time?” he asked, his hand hovering over the shelf, knowing you could be indecisive. “and no being picky.”

you tapped your finger against your lips, eyeing the different scents he had spoiled you with. “hmm, i want the coconut drift, pl–” before you could finish, he was already reaching for it, “actually, i want the raspberry dreamscape.”

he narrowed his teal eyes at you but complied anyway, grabbing your light blue loofah from the hook. he squirted the raspberry-scented body wash onto it, rubbing it until it lathered into a light pink foam. he sat down on the wide bench built into the wall, pulling you by the waist until you stood right between his legs.

you looked down at him with a gentle smile, sighing softly and resting your hands on his shoulders as he scrubbed from your neck down to your abdomen. he then turned you around to scrub your back.

“sae, i know you’re taking a peek,” you teased, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“yeah, no shit. i’m scrubbing your pretty ass right now,” he replied casually, being particularly gentle on your cheeks.

smiling, you turned back around and reached for your cherry dew shampoo, pumping some into your hands. you lathered it up before sae stood up, holding your waist and lowering his head slightly so your fingers could reach his wet, reddish hair.

“smells like you,” he murmured as you massaged your shampoo into his scalp.

“good, you’ll think of me while you’re training.”

“i do that regardless.”

his words caught you off-guard, making you fumble slightly as you ruffled his hair. “r-right…” you stammered before quickly changing the subject. “—oh, i almost forgot, do you want to go outside? the weather’s nice.”

sae moved aside the damp strands of hair clinging to your skin and planted a light kiss on the side of your neck. “alright,”

as you followed him out of the enclosure, your wet foot accidentally slipped on the polished floor tiles. you panicked, squeezing your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the fall, but instead of hitting the solid floor, you felt a pair of strong hands catch you. sae steadied you and then handed you a towel to dry off.

“told you you’d manage to slip this time, too,” he added, slipping on his velvety, crimson robe with a smirk that only fueled your embarrassment.

“ugh…” you groaned as you wrapped yourself in your rose-gold robe. you looked up at him, then without a word, hugged him tightly. “carry me.”

he rolled his eyes, but you found yourself pressed up against his chest in less than a moment, his arms wrapped securely around you. your arms clung around his neck, and your legs linked tightly around his waist.

“why did i marry you, again?” he asked, pinching your side lightly.

you buried your face into the crook of his neck and he could feel you grin against his skin. “because you love me.”

“. . . unfortunately.”

𝜗𝜚 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

“i thought i told you to get up,” rin grumbled, looming over the bed where you were cuddled comfortably under the duvet. “you’re lucky i’m even taking time out of my day to help you.”

you burrowed yourself deeper into the bed, pulling the duvet over your head to avoid his gaze. “i don’t want to move!” you protested, and even that subtle movement sent a sharp pain through your abdomen, making you wince at your cramps’ unbearable pain. “and besides, that's the bare minim–”

unimpressed, rin rolled his eyes and yanked the blanket off your face, gently lifting you up into his arms. your legs dangled over his elbows as he held you close. “i’ve already prepared the bath.” he said softly.

you tried to resist, throwing weak punches at his chest with your fists, but it was no use. you gave up and fell limp against his chest. the pain was too much, too uncomfortable, and the idea of being spoiled by your husband, even for a little while, was pretty tempting. 

still, you weren’t going to surrender completely without a fight. as you buried your face into his chest, an ominous smile tugged at your lips— a smile rin which knew all too well, one that made him visibly nervous. it was the kind of smile that meant you had something up your sleeve.

“i don’t know what you’re thinking of, but seriously, forget it,” he warned, eyeing you suspiciously. you responded by giving him an innocent kiss on the cheek, causing him to pause and narrow his turquoise eyes. “dammit.”

your husband set you down on the bathroom counter and began unbuttoning your floral pajama top, pulling it over your head. you gripped the edge of the counter for support, tipping your head back slightly as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss onto your neck. 

while rin busied himself with discarding the rest of your clothes, you slyly reached out and grabbed the white, gold-rimmed bin filled up with lotions, moisturizers, essential oils, and various other bath products. pretty normal, nothing suspicious so far. you peered into it, a giggle escaping your lips as you spotted this evening’s target: a bath bomb.

but this time, its colour was red.

“stop giggling at nothing, you weirdo,” he chided, scooping you carefully into his arms. his expression softened as he noticed how tightly your fingers gripped onto him, and the way your eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. “sorry, did that hurt?”

“n-no, i’m fine,” you reassured him. rin nodded, lowering you gently into the large, pre-prepared bath. it was just the way you liked it during your painful time of the month— warm, bordering on hot, with medium-sized bubbles floating on the surface.

“i’ll bring your favourite chocolate in a bit,” he said, gently lapping the water toward you before attempting to withdraw and leave. “call my name if you need anything, i’ll be outs— shit.”

it happened too fast for him to react. before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed his arm with whatever strength you had left and pulled him into the bath with you. he fell into the water with a loud splash, soaking him completely. for a hot moment, the bathroom was filled with awkward silence and the sound of water settling around you.

rin sat there, his stretchy navy shirt and black, knee-high shorts clinging to his body, drenched and dripping. he closed his eyes, one hand covering his face like a visor as he tried to calm himself. his other hand rested on the slippery surface of the tub for support.

you bit your lip, struggling to stifle a giggle as you crawled through the water towards him, pushing his knees apart so you could sit on his lap.

“i think it’s unfair that you still have your clothes on while i’m… y’know,” you pouted.

he threw you a glare, his hands gripping your waist as he tried to push you away, but you wouldn’t budge. “i fucking knew there was something wrong with your sudden obedience,” he scoffed, throwing his head back against the rim of the tub in surrender. you took the opportunity to hook your legs under his thighs and peel the shirt over his head.

“i’ll leave your shorts on…” you paused, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “—unless?”

“no.”

“yeah– thought so.”

settling against his chest, you felt his large hands move to rub berry blossom body wash into his palms. he placed both hands on your waist, sliding them up and down your sides before his fingers began tracing lazily patterns along your back.

you softly sighed and rested your chin on his upper chest, looking as blissful as ever. rin was almost tempted to lean down and kiss you until you were gasping for air, but you beat him to it. linking your arms around his neck, you slotted your mouth against his. he reciprocated, but not before pinching your side lightly, just enough to squirm in his grasp.

unbeknownst to him, however, your arm had slithered around and rummaged quietly through the white bin until it found a soft, round object. you smiled against his mouth, then subtly dropped the red bath bomb into the water with a quiet splash.

“f-fuck…” you whimpered suddenly, breaking the kiss and clutching your stomach as your face contorted—eyes squinting—in feigned pain.

rin’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he instinctively adjusted his position to grip onto your shoulders in concern. “what’s wrong? you okay?”

you didn’t respond, instead blinking up at him with half-closed eyes once, then twice, before letting your eyelids slip shut and beginning to breathe softly.

“y/—” one could say his heart practically stopped beating at that moment, his eyes widening as he watched the water around you cloud with a sweet cherry red dye. it also definitely did not help that you decided it was a good idea to fall limp onto his chest, though you were clearly breathing normally.

was your monthly bleeding supposed to be this excessive?

“w-what the fuck!” he fretted in horror as he shook your shoulders forcefully, his hand trembling as he patted your cheek, trying to get you to meet his gaze. your eyes were bleary, yet they still had their usual shine. “is this fucking normal? are you going to bleed to death? should i call for help–??”

over the course of your marriage, you had never seen rin panic like this. in the ten-plus years of knowing him, this was the first time you’d witnessed him so completely consumed by worry for you. typically, rin kept his emotions under control, reacting subtly to any situation. but now, as the vivid colour surrounded you both, you could see the raw concern surfacing on his face.

of course, a large part of you felt guilty— wondering if maybe you’d gone a tad bit too far this time. the last thing you wanted was for him to fall ill or lose focus during his next game because of the stress you caused.

unable to hold it back any longer, you let out the laugh you’d been suppressing, and rin’s expression immediately shifted from panic to deadpan. like, literally. immediately. just that stupid giggle of yours was all it took for him to realize he had managed to fall for one of your traps yet again— this time, in the most ridiculous way possible.

he simply stood up without a word and kicked the lumpy, fizzing bath bomb away. then, with water dripping down his tight-to-skin shorts, he stepped out of the tub.

“wait, rin—” you called out from behind, your hands gripping the rim of the tub as you tried to sit up.

he glanced over his shoulder with an unreadable expression as he dried himself with a towel. you noticed the faint pink tint on his cheeks, likely from the lingering embarrassment and panic. after all, even if your bleeding had been heavy, there was no way the dye would’ve been that saturated in such a large tub.

“...i’m going to say this one more time,” he said calmly, “call me if you need anything or if you want to leave the tub so i can bathe you,” he walked slowly back to you, bending down until his face was close to yours.

“i’m sor–” you started to apologize, but he cut you off.

“and one more thing,” he added, cupping your face gently in his hands. “you scared me to death, you fool. i fucking love you. don’t do that again.”

before you could respond, he sealed his lips against yours. it was safe to say you decided then and there that you wouldn’t pull that particular prank again— at least, not without the promise that he’d shower with you as part of the deal, of course.

𝜗𝜚 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

friday had finally arrived– the long-awaited end to an exhausting week. to you, it usually meant you had all the time in the world to pamper yourself and indulge in self-care. heavy emphasis on usually, because unfortunately, this wasn’t always the case when you had an extremely insufferable (but annoyingly loveable) husband.

if there was one thing kaiser excelled at— besides hurling terrifyingly creative insults at people he barely knew and dominating the football field— it was his nonstop teasing.

you stepped into your spacious master bathroom with a soft towel embroidered with delicate begonia patterns tucked snugly under your arm. your shoulders felt unbearably stiff, and your back throbbed with ache. the thought of dipping your leg into the hot, bubbly bath you had prepared earlier was quite literally the only thing keeping you upright.

finally, your body made contact with the euphoric warmth as you lowered yourself into the wide, glossy marble bathtub positioned near the window. the heat of the water instantly began to soothe your sore muscles, and you let out a content sigh, leaning back against the built-in backrest.

oh, it was going to be so relaxing. would have been, if kaiser hadn’t suddenly barged into the washroom without so much as a courtesy knock— though knowing him, you doubted he even considered such things. the sudden intrusion made you flinch and pulled you out of the comfortable state you’d just begun to enjoy.

“knock before you enter, stupid,” you snapped, shooting him a glare as you sank deeper into the frothy water until only the top half of your head peeked out.

kaiser shut the door behind him and stood there practically naked. your eyes trailed down the path of pearly beads of water that teasingly trickled down his toned chest with no shame. the white cotton towel that hung loosely around his waist threatened to unravel and reveal what’s hidden beneath with the slightest blow of the wind.

“you’re really soaking in here all by yourself after i told you i wanted to join you, prinzessin?” he rolled his eyes, but with no real irritation in his voice as he sauntered toward you. his fingers deftly unhooked the towel from his waist, nonchalantly tossing it into the hamper.

you pushed yourself back up, fingers gripping the edge of the bathtub for support before wiping your face with your palms, water droplets sliding down your cheeks. raising a brow, you asked, “mihya– are you seriously planning to get in even after you’ve clearly just showered?”

you watched as he slipped into the tub, settling in front of you. his head leaned back against the cool marble edge, arms casually draped along the sides of the bathtub.

“that was just the rinse i always take after football practice,” he explained lazily, “is it really so terrible to want to bathe with my beautiful wife?”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips from his compliment– though he tended to throw that one your way frequently.

“you’re so annoying,” you laughed, slowly crawling across the slippery surface of the tub toward him. your hands settled on his broad shoulders as you guided yourself onto his bare lap. “now i don’t even have room to stretch my legs.”

his tattooed hand, adorned with the blue crown, came to rest on your waist. though, unfortunately, you were oblivious to the subtle movement of his other hand, instead nestling your head against his chest.

it felt so serene— until it wasn’t.

seriously, what could possibly go wrong while you’re comfortably straddling your husband’s lap, eyes sewn shut, head on his chest as you try to continue your weekly post-work relaxation session?

apparently, everything.

in an instant, a jolt of freezing cold water slammed onto your back, each drop hitting you like a small brick. your eyes flew open and a loud gasp was drawn from you as you shot upright, instinctively scrambling away from him. you nearly slipped on the slick surface in the process as you tried to escape the showerhead above you. who thought it was a good idea to combine a bathtub with a shower, anyway?

“michael!” you whined, seeking warmth under the foamy blanket of sea. “that was cruel…”

he grinned, reaching over to turn off the water, which had started to drench him, too.

“sorry, meine liebe,” he cooed, moving to your side and pressing a gentle, almost apologetic kiss to your trembling shoulders. “i heard cold water’s great for sore muscles.”

“you and i both know that’s not why you did it,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer until your cheek pressed against his chest.

“hmm. well, you know, if i’m feeling generous, i might give you a life-changing massage or even treat you to your favourite food if y—”

“life-ending massage, you mean. you nearly crushed my bones last time– i literally felt my soul leaving my body.” you paused for emphasis before adding, “and i'm getting my food without any ‘ifs’.”

he chuckled and stood up with a smirk, the water sliding off his exposed body as he stepped out of the tub. he grabbed his simple towel and slung it over his shoulder before glancing back at you.

“fine, but i won’t order anything– i’ll cook.”

your heart sank. his cooking was nothing short of life-threatening.

“god, please, no!”

𝜗𝜚 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

“sorry, sweetheart, let me just…” reo murmured, draping a silky, red fabric over your eyes, tying it securely behind your head. “there we go, baby. can you see anything?”

“no, reo,” you replied with a small shake of your head as your hand hovered uncertainly in the air, searching for his. 

a soft laugh escaped his lips before reaching out to thread his fingers in your hand. you could only weakly map out every subtle turn in your mind as he led you somewhere in your mansion. finally, he came to a stop, causing you to bump into his firm back.

your toes flexed and unflexed, feeling the plush carpet beneath you. the texture was familiar, and you quickly recognized that he had brought you to the grand bathroom adjacent to the balcony on the upper level of your mansion.

“ready?” he asked, the double doors creaking softly as he opened them. he turned back to you, fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you in. “i’m taking your blindfold off, sweetheart.”

as the velvety fabric slipped off and fluttered noiselessly to the carpet, your eyes widened in awe. a gasp escaped past your parted, plump lips as you took in the almost surreal sight in front of you.

“baby, you didn’t have to…”

you entered the large, steamy room and the warmth of the automatically heated floor, immediately seeped into your feet. in the corner of the washroom, the jacuzzi tub was filled to the brim with fluffy clouds of white foam, and was decorated with delicate red rose petals scattered everywhere like confetti. and to make things even more romantic, vanilla-scented candles were lit on the flat edges of the tub.

your gaze shifted to a small glass table beside the tub, where a bubble machine quietly hummed classical music and released shimmering bubbles into the air. 

“do you like it?” his voice interrupted your silent admiration, and you quickly turned around, a sheepish smile spreading across your face. you locked your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“i… i love it,” you whispered. your eyes wafted back toward the jacuzzi and you moved toward it. “thank you, reo.”

he smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that reached his eyes as he rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. his fingers began to work from behind, unzipping the back of your fitted dress and pulling the delicate material down. “anything for my favourite lady.”

the cool air soon kissed your bare skin; dress and undergarments neatly folded by reo and set aside in the walk-in closet adjoining the bathroom. heat rose to your cheeks as you stood there, exposed. though he had seen you naked countless times before, it had always managed to leave you flustered.

your head hung low, eyes fixed down on the marble tiles beneath you as you crossed your arms over your chest, each hand on the opposite shoulder.

he noticed your bashful demeanor and chuckled softly. his hands found their place on your waist, and he bent down slightly to press slow, sweet kisses along your collarbone. you stared down at him lovingly, hands coming up to card through his soft, amethyst hair. the feeling of his lips trailing across your skin made your breath hitch, and when planted a singular, feather-light kiss on the bottom curve of your breast, your eyes fluttered shut. he straightened up to properly look at you, a grin playing at his lips.

“what, you nervous?” he teased, ruffling your hair affectionately. “smile for me, yeah? my beautiful angel.”

you opened your eyes, looking at him shyly. “stop it… you’re embarrassing me.”

he rolled his eyes playfully, his fingers reaching up to loosen his tie when you suddenly stopped him.

“i’m going to undress you.” you stated firmly, your fingers already skillfully loosening the silky tie and sliding it over his head before beginning to work on the black buttons of his suit.

“t-that’s…” his voice faltered, and he could not suppress the rosy pink tint from spreading across his pale cheeks. the sight of your focused expression– your squinted, dreamy eyes and the way your lips tucked under your teeth as you undid his clothing left him flustered.

it made his heart swell from the overwhelming realization of how much he loved you. how had he gotten so lucky, he wondered, to be with someone as lovely and gentle as you, let alone marry you?

“there, all done!” you exclaimed with a satisfied smile as you gave his firm abs a gentle pat.

“i’m going to make you undress me every single time now, no complaints,” he chuckled, grabbing your hand and helping you into the jacuzzi. the two of you settled beside each other, sinking into the rose-petal-littered, bubbly water.

reo pulled you in closer to him until your bodies were nuzzled together, aligned inch-to-inch. he let out a deep, relaxed sigh, about to throw his head back when he noticed you scooping up a handful of foamy water mixed with a few rose petals, the water seeping from between the gaps of your fingers.

you gave him a cheeky grin as you hovered your hands above his head and released the blooms, letting them fall delicately onto his hair.

he laughed and plucked a petal from his head, pressing it near your collarbone until it stuck. “sorry, gorgeous, but these petals look much better on you,”

he leaned in and pecked your soft lips. one by one, he began to pick up individual petals, carefully sticking each one all over your body, as if adorning you with pretty rubies. his lips followed each placement, planting a tender kiss on every petal he laid on your skin. the whole time, he maintained eye contact with you, those half-lidded orchid eyes making the blood rush rapidly to your cheeks.

satisfied, he reached over and picked up a nearby moveable silver-rimmed mirror and handed it to you, showing you your petal-covered body.

“see? aren’t you just the prettiest?”

𝜗𝜚 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈

“sei, i’m serious— if you fall asleep one more time, i’ll leave you in the tub alone,” you warned almost seriously, patting his cheek gently to rouse him. his heavy eyelids fluttered, and you could see the sleep creeping back as he began to slip beneath the water again.

the giant of a man’s broad back was pressed firmly against your chest as your fingers worked their mystique across his fatigued muscles. you kneaded at his shoulders, and fisted at his back, pressing his muscles gently. it wasn’t that he was sore– no. this had become a habit, something he looked forward to after a draining football practice or game.

your massages were the best of the best, his personal heaven, the kind that always managed to lull him to the brink of sleep. he had tried numerous massages from professional masseuses before you two got married, but none could ever compare to the sorcery of your hands.

“noo, i’ll drownnn…” his voice was a whine slurred with sleep. he blinked his bleary eyes before lazily readjusting his position. 

“then wake up! you’re heavier when you’re sleeping!” you scolded, poking at his shoulders.

“’kay…” he muttered, but you knew better. as expected, no sooner had he mumbled his agreement than his eyes clamped shut again, his head nodding forward. you grunted softly and wiggled out from under him, carefully removing his weight from your lap.

with some effort, you managed to move your husband, pulling him upright so he could be seated properly against the cool, black granite wall of the pool.

“hmph,” you huffed, shoving your hand underwater before splashing his sleepy face with a huge wave of water. he flinched awake and nearly lost his footing on the slippery pool floor, his hands shooting out to hold onto the edge to steady himself. “you asked for it, dummy.”

he groaned and rubbed his face with a grumpy expression. “y’play so unfairly, baby,” he muttered. his long arm reached out and, before you could react, grabbed your wrist, effortlessly pulling you against his chest. your hands were suddenly pressed against his sculpted abdomen. his large hands cupped your cheeks gently, tilting your head to the left, then the right, then back again as if inspecting you.

“hm, something’s different ‘bout you,” he mused, burying his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent with a satisfied hum. “ah. new shampoo…?” he leaned back slightly, comically raising his head to the crystal chandelier above, as if deep in thought. “strawberry elixir?”

your eyes widened in surprise. if there was one thing that amazed you about nagi, it was his uncanny observance despite his notorious laziness. you had bought the expensive shampoo just a few days ago and only today had you used it for the first time, when you showered before entering the bath.

it may be the sort of detail people would quickly notice but perhaps that was the special privilege he granted to the person he loved. for you, he gave you the rare gift of his focused attention.

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. leaning in, you pressed a long kiss to his lips, which he lazily reciprocated. “that’s not going to make me forgive you, you know,” you murmured against his mouth, though your smile betrayed the truth.

he groaned, shifting his gaze to the scented oil bottles lined along the rim of the hot tub. without much thought, he blinked slowly and shrugged, reaching for the bottle labeled lavender dream. carelessly, he poured the entire contents into the water, the strong fragrance immediately filling the bathroom.

“nagi!” you cried, eyes wide in horror. “you don’t just add oil directly to water! they won’t mix!”

he paused, staring at the tiny droplets of oil floating on the surface before glancing down at the guilty-looking empty bottle in his hands. “oh. you’re right.”

“don’t just–!”

“uh… i have an idea,” he muttered, calmly ruffling your hair. you watched as he pushed himself up and out of the hot tub (you’re amazed he took the initiative to do something himself) and walked to the controller wall, completely unbothered by the fact he was butt-naked.

at the click of one rectangular button, the jets at the bottom of the tub immediately activated and powerful streams of water began to come from underneath, kneading at your muscles.

a delightful sigh left your lips as nagi slid back beside you, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“see, baby?” he murmured, trailing his fingers over the water, feeling the water ripple over his skin. “the oil’ll disappear sooner or later, m’kay?”

you nodded your head, slightly but not fully convinced. you turned around to hug him, closing your eyes. “sure… but i’ll just use one of the guest bathrooms if it doesn’t.”

“we’ll.” 

he added too quickly for a man like him. he needed your massages after all– not the jets which, while comforting, did not come close enough to the way your hands worked.

you rolled your eyes playfully and smiled, “yes, yes, together.”

just then, the large television mounted on the porcelain-tiled wall turned on, drawing your attention. you turned your head to find nagi waving the remote with a subtle grin.

“wanna watch a movie and cuddle?”

𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 and baths go so well together because they are so silly. you can always find him at the shower control panel, playing with the settings until the outline of the tub glowed in ethereal colours of topaz and quartz and emerald.

also, the bath would inevitably become a sea of yellow rubber duckies because he thinks they're cute and they match his hair! he does leave the cleanup to you, though :(

besides, this man would be so indecisive when it comes to water temperature. one minute it’s icy cold, the next it’s scorching hot, only to swing to cold again because, well, he felt like it! the two of you would end up dancing in the water like goofs, splashing and kicking at each other because no one is watching you in your private yard– but you’re sure he’d do it in front of many eyes anyway.

one of his favourite games is to try and carry you on his back as he swims around the tub. despite your repeated warnings that he’d sink under the combined weight, he’d insist on trying, each attempt failing worse than the previous.

but the best part? even though you’re both naked, baths and showers with him were about anything but sexual. he sees you naked– okay? lovely! let’s see who could hold their breath the longest underwater.

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[sassybluebird]

out of breath, got me going like...

some of the attractive things that the blue lock men do. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu 𝜗𝜚 content: fluff, suggestive

note. yukki debut on my acc ??? do we fw the casual, less poetic writing cuz there was really no way to make this poetic 👩‍🦯 just astronomically down bad writing all around

itoshi rin sends you gym pics without you having to ask.

it initially took a lot of convincing, at first, to get rin to send you a picture. in his eyes, it was embarrassing— the idea of pulling his phone out mid-workout, taking a picture, sending it to you, and then going back to whatever he was doing. his mind would drift off to the weird stares he would probably get from others, and the fact that he also wasn’t exactly known for knowing how to pose to begin with. as much as he loved making you happy, there were just some things he was not willing to do.

it took a lot of begging, and for the first few months, the answer was always, “no.”

the first picture came unexpectedly. your phone was thrown off to the side of the bed, not really anticipating any texts from rin for the next hour or so, given the fact that he was at the gym. so you were surprised when you heard a familiar tune come from your phone— one specifically assigned to his contact. you had no idea why he would be texting you. 

you’re absolutely floored at what you see; jaw left hanging and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, almost dropping the phone.

it's a gym picture. he's doing a normal pose, nothing too special. he’s standing in front of the mirror, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, and the other holding onto his phone. his face was partly covered by his phone, but you could see the blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. but it wasn’t that that got your attention— no, it was something entirely different.

he was wearing a sleeveless compression shirt, giving you a full view of his arms. they were glistening in sweat and perfectly toned. the arm that was propping his phone up was slightly flexed, from the position it was in, adding to the bulk and definition in his biceps. and you could see the veins traveling up the arm of his hand, the one that was shoved into his pocket, crawling up from the back of his hand to his forearm. the bright overhead lighting, with a combination of the dim background lighting, served to emphasize every line and crevice of his exposed skin. 

“this what you wanted?” came a message right after, “i know you’re reading this right now, respond.” you felt weak. he definitely researched how to do this.

words couldn't describe how you felt. so, your immediate response was to send him a flurry of incoherent texts; a mixture of randomly pressed keys and crying emojis. but that’s what feeds his ego— your reactions are what makes smile smugly to himself, covering his lips with his hands as he reads your texts over. he starts to send you gym pictures more consistently after that, patiently waiting for your response after each one. at this point, it’s become a part of his gym routine.

itoshi sae drapes his arm over the back of your seat while reversing.

driving with sae was a true test of control— specifically, yours. it had become increasingly hard to focus whenever he was driving, with every little motion of his body seeming to pull your attention away from the road. he was just so distracting, to the point that you had started offering to drive instead. yet to no avail, because he always insisted on being the driver, furthering your silent suffering in the passenger's seat. but, there was nothing more testing than whenever he was reversing the car.

it’s an internal battle; it takes everything in you not to ogle him so openly. and somehow, you’re losing a battle to yourself.

it’s as if your eyes instantly become magnetized to sae— the way he moves when he rests his arm so casually, yet so securely, on the back of your headrest’s frame. and it doesn’t help that this position gives such a perfect view of him. the way the muscles in his arm ripple and flex ever so slightly, but visibly, under his loose dress shirt. the way his folded sleeves ride up every time, and the exposed part of his forearm constantly taunts you to take a peek. you hate that you suddenly become hyperaware of everything he does in that moment. especially his fingers, and the way they tickle the back of your neck, almost touching you but not quite there.

you have to hold back the subtle shudder that sweeps over your body.

it feels like he’s taking up so much space, demanding you to notice him. the way the scent of his cologne wafts over to you, the bergamot and sandalwood notes of it slowly overwhelming your senses. the faint shift in his posture, emphasizing the subtle stretch of his neck, giving you a view of his collarbones and necklace. and the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he speaks, his voice in a low tone, with his eyes flitting over to you momentarily before they’re back on the road.

it has to be intentional, he has to be aware of what he’s doing. “you’re doing this on purpose,” you mutter under your breath, willing yourself to turn away and look out the window.

“doing what on purpose?” he asks, but the mirth in his tone is evident— you can practically hear the tiny smirk that’s splayed on his lips. you’ve concluded that he’s sick in the head, that he’s playing with you right in your face. “i’m just making sure we don’t get into a crash, you baby.” and you willingly fall for it, every time.

nagi seishiro becomes clingy when it's just the two of you.

laying in your lap, while you’re absorbed in your own hobby, is one of nagi’s favorite pastimes. it keeps him close to you, but allows you both to do your own thing. sometimes, he’d take a nap while you work, one hand loosely holding onto yours in his sleep. other times, he’d play video games on his phone, making sure his volume is turned all the way down to not distract you. but most of the time, he likes to just lay there and admire you, with a barely noticeable smile on his lips.

but he becomes somewhat miffed whenever your hair falls in front of your face, blocking his (initially) flawless view of you. and it annoys him more whenever you don’t push it out of the way.

so, he decided to take it upon himself to move it for you, arm lazily stretched up to reach for you. you barely noticed it at first, so absorbed in the book that you were reading. the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your cheeks doesn’t register in your mind, and his touch is barely there. and then you feel it. his fingers are in your hair, gathering the strands on the back of his hand before he’s brushing it out of the way. it’s so gentle, the way he locks your hair behind your ear, and the way his hand lingers a little longer on your skin after. his fingers then travel from your ear to your jawline, finger lightly tracing the side of your jaw, and it makes you curl in on yourself at the feeling. (it tickles, but also oddly comforting.) and then, he’s pulling his arm back down to reach for your wrist instead, fingers wrapping around it.

your skin is tingling, and the surface of your skin feels warm— taken aback by the sudden act of affection. you glance down at him with a curious look, only to see that he’s already staring attentively at you, and you feel his hold on you tighten. “you know,” you begin, “you could’ve just asked me to do it for you.”

"you always get so lost in whatever you're doing," he mumbles slowly, his voice sounding almost whiney at the fact. his hand, the one firmly holding onto your wrist, is traveling up until it’s wiggling the book out of your hand. (you don’t miss the small furrow of his brows when you jokingly grip onto the book, before giving in and letting it fall to the side.) he takes this chance to intertwine your fingers, his larger hands completely enveloping yours. "i don't mind it, but i hate when i can’t see you."

michael kaiser holds intense eye contact with you when you're talking.

at times, you found it hard to talk to kaiser. he's constantly exuding such an intense confidence, one that's often present in his gaze, that you could never truly hold face-to-face conversations with him. you're always shying away from it, crumbling under the intensity, and he finds twisted pleasure in how flustered it makes you. the way the words always die on the tip of your tongue whenever your eyes meet, when you see that his focus is locked on you

it makes you look away, because it's the only thing you can do to escape it. but kaiser doesn't like it when you're looking away from him— he wants your attention. he wants to see you when you talk excitedly about your day.

he’ll get that attention however way he can. from where you're seated on the couch gives him quick access to you. you can feel his tattooed hand crawling up the skin of your thighs, sliding up slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. he stops short of the hem of your shorts, planting his hand firmly on the spot. he gives it a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs— trying to get you to cave into him. “why won’t you look at me when you talk?” he’s leaning into you, invading your personal space despite the spacious couch. you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear with each word, “mein liebling, i want to see you when you talk. look at me.”

“you can listen to me talk without needing me to look at you,” you swallow, and his grip tightens ever so slightly at your words.

you're shifting awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the proximity, at the fact that his voice has started to sound almost pleading. almost— because he would never admit to something as desperate as pleading. it’s hard to focus when he’s this close, when he’s right there. his fingers remain on your thigh, tracing deliberate lines over your skin, and despite the way you're trying to resist, you can feel your resolve crumbling.

it’s not every day that you see someone like kaiser be on the precipice of begging for your attention. 

“i promise, i’ll stop teasing you. look—” his other hand is hooking under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. and you do— his eyes, once intense and teasing, now holds a softer and almost guilty looking gaze. “keep talking, yeah?”

oliver aiku likes to loosen his necktie with one hand after a formal event.

neckties are the worst, an opinion oliver will stand by ‘til the end of time. he absolutely despises having to put one on for formal events, and he’ll do his best to charm his way out of having to wear one. it never works, so the second he puts it on, he’s already thinking of the moment he gets to pull it off of himself. he doesn’t think much of it when he does it— one finger looping in the space between his neck and necktie, and he’s pulling at it without care.

but recently, he’s started to notice how intently you’d been staring each time he did it.

oliver’s got a keen-eye; not even the smallest thing can get past him. he drinks in the sight of you when he does it, eyes fixed on you, and taking joy in the fact that you don’t even seem to notice. you’re too busy being fixated on his hand, and the way the vein on his hand becomes prominent when he flexes it to pull, or the way his fingers seem to play around with the fabric. your eyes are so sharp, but somehow so unfocused, all at the same time. he loves how it gets you worked up.

it’s entertaining, so he takes it up a notch.

he drags his fingers, slowly, down to the first button of his shirt. and then he’s unbuttoning it with one hand, putting in extra effort in exposing his collarbones. he can’t fight the grin that makes its way to his lips, at your reaction— your eyes are widening, and he can visibly see you gulp at the sight. and then your eyes are shooting up to meet his, and his grin becomes impossibly wider.

“like what you see?” the teasing and flirtatious lilt in his voice is unmistakable, and you can’t help but draw your eyes back down to where his hand is twirling the tie around his fingers. he makes you tick, but he’s also so attractive, and you hate that he can easily make you blush with his words.

“you wish.” you choose to look away with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna take more than that.” that makes him oddly excited, brows raising in mild surprise, and you honestly should’ve known better. it’s like you’re offering up a new challenge to him, and he gladly accepts.

oliver still hates neckties; that’s an opinion that will never change. he still looks forward to the second he gets to pull it off. except now, he gets to play a little game with you while he does it.

yukimiya kenyu keeps a hand on your back at all times, in public.

it’s a habit formed purely from the fact that the streets of shibuya have the tendency to become really crowded, and yukimiya hates it when you get separated from him in such a crowd. he likes it when you’re right by his side— he can keep a close eye on you at all times and protect you from getting pushed around. and originally, it started off with holding your hands. it was fine during the colder seasons, providing the two of you with extra warmth. but you had both quickly realized that it could become quite uncomfortable during summer, making your hands all sweaty and sticky.

so he experimented. he let his arm drop from your shoulders to the small of your back, his palm hovering over your skin, initially unsure of how you would react.

“is this okay?” he would lean down to whisper in your ear, and his voice was so gentle and so concerned about you. even when he was the one getting shoved around by the crowd, with people constantly running into the sides of his shoulders, he was still only thinking about you. you and your comfort. “tell me if this is uncomfortable, and i’ll figure something else out. okay?”

it made you shiver— you felt a heat crawl up your spine, and your stomach was immediately fluttering with butterflies.

you nod, “no, this is okay.” more than okay, actually, but you keep that to yourself. “thank you for asking.” he flashes you one of his pretty smiles, and he leans up to look straight ahead in the crowd again. but this time, his touch is more present— his palm is now firmly planted onto your skin, and he’s actively weaving you through the crowded streets.

whenever someone would get too close to you, or if he anticipates that someone is about to crash into you, his hand would travel to the side of your waist. and yukimiya grips on it, pulling your body flush against his side, effectively pulling you out of the way. “sorry,” he’ll whisper an apology, not having intended to hold you so tightly. his hands will go right back to where they initially were, not without trailing his fingers on the way back, leaving sparks tingling across your skin where he touched. “did i hurt you?”

“no, i’m fine,” you can keep your hand there, you almost tell him. it drives you insane that everything he does is unintentional— but maybe, one day, you'll be able to tell him exactly what you’re thinking.

© rindreamery, 2024

tags. @choccorin @mininji

[sassybluebird]

Choose wisely ;)

.... NSFW art of this trio HERE!

[sassybluebird]

Blush

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: language, suggestive content, fluff? that's it really

word count: 9.4k

synopsis: You really like making Azriel blush.

my masterlist

~ ~ ~

You wanted to swim in the honeyed pools of amber that hovered over you, watching you intently with a twinkle of mischief that made your stomach flutter. You could get lost in Azriel’s eyes. You often did get lost in his eyes, which then often led to you fumbling and blushing when someone caught you. It was embarrassing, really, how enamored you were with the quiet shadowsinger. You didn’t know how to not melt under his warm gaze.

And now here he was, leaning over you as his legs bracketed your body, pinning you to the floor of the training ring, his soft lips moving as he quietly provided critiques on your technique. You couldn’t focus on anything he was saying, though. All you could think about was how beautiful his eyes were and the torrent of butterflies that had been unleashed in your stomach.

“Your eyes are pretty.”

Azriel froze, his eyes going wide. Your own eyes widened slightly as you realized what you said, the private thought escaping from your lips. Your cheeks started to warm as his incredulous gaze met yours. “What?” he rasped.

You quickly decided you were too far gone at that point, so you steeled your nerves and repeated your words. “Your eyes,” you said again. “They’re really pretty.”

Azriel’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the color spreading up his neck to the tips of his ears, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Azriel was blushing. This male that always left you a fumbling blushing mess was now knelt over you with wide eyes and red cheeks, his mouth opening and closing slightly. His wings fluttered slightly as he leaned back, clearing his throat as he stood up from his position.

He didn’t meet your eyes as he held a hand out to help you up, and you felt a little guilty for making him uncomfortable, knowing all too well it’s not always fun to feel such nervous embarrassment. You accepted his hand after a moment, his skin warm and rough against your own. You were about to apologize once he pulled you up, but Azriel dropped your hand, glancing at you briefly before moving away, and you lost the nerve to even acknowledge your foolish lapse in judgment.

You bit your lip, looking down at your boots as you wished the mountain would just fissure open and swallow you whole. “Y/N,” Azriel’s soft voice snapped you from your simmering mortification. His cheeks were still red when you met his eyes, but there was a faint, bashful smile on his face that made your stomach flip. “Thank you.”

You had to fight the grin that immediately wanted to bloom on your face, and simply nodded your acknowledgement as Azriel turned away, unwrapping his hands, your training apparently done for today. Your previous embarrassment morphed into pride, as you replayed the interaction over and over in your head. Nesta glanced at you curiously as you sat next to her to stretch, but you ignored her gaze as you glanced back at Azriel, who was now speaking with Cassian as if nothing had happened. His gaze suddenly met yours, his cheeks still tinged pink, and you smiled softly, shaking your head as you looked away again. You had made Azriel blush, and you had every intention of doing it again.

~ ~ ~

“Have you eaten yet?”

Azriel stood in the entryway to the sitting room you had wandered off to with Nyx, a plate of food in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. You smiled softly, shaking your head before looking back at Nyx, who was starting to get fussy. His eyes were tired and heavy, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he either passed out in your lap or started wailing as he fought off sleep. “I told Feyre I would watch him while she ate,” you said softly, fingers tickling at Nyx’s stomach, making him giggle.

Azriel moved closer, sitting the food and wine on the table next to you. “Let me take him,” he offered softly. “Go ahead and eat.” The food smelled amazing, and you were starving, but you hated to just pass Nyx off to him. 

Azriel sat next to you on the couch, the cushions jostling beneath you. He held his hands out to Nyx, a soft smile on lips. “Do you want to come sit with me?” he cooed, and your heart nearly exploded as Nyx happily launched himself from your lap and into Azriel’s arms.

Azriel laughed softly, catching Nyx easily, and bouncing him in his lap. He glanced at you, nodding toward the plate. “It’s going to get cold.”

You bit your lip, fighting back the stupid smile that wanted to engulf your face, and instead took a sip of the wine before picking up the plate. You ate quietly while Azriel sat beside you with Nyx, his happy giggles slowly dying down as exhaustion crept up on him. At some point, Azriel had coaxed Nyx to lay on his chest, and the little babe had quickly fallen asleep. When you looked over after setting your empty plate down, Nyx’s cheek was squished against the shoulder of Azriel’s sweater, his wings drooping around him to rest on Azriel’s chest.

It was possibly the most wholesome thing you had ever seen, and a million rogue butterflies were swarming your stomach as you watched them. Azriel was too engrossed with Nyx to notice your attention, his fingers rubbing gentle circles on his back. Azriel’s face was softer than you had ever seen, his usual stoicism long gone while he held his nephew.

“You’re really good with him,” you said softly, your awe seeping into your voice.

He startled a bit, his hand pressing into Nyx’s back as his eyes jumped to yours. A pink hue slowly crept across his cheeks, and your heart fluttered at the sight. He didn’t really respond, though. He just gave you a tiny tight-lipped smile before looking back down at Nyx.

“I mean it, Az,” you whispered, shuffling a little closer. “That boy adores you. Clearly.”

The color on his cheeks only darkened, but his shadows pulsed excitedly before one ventured out to snake around your wrist. Azriel’s eyes went wide when he saw it, and the shadow promptly left you. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“I don’t mind them,” you answered honestly. His shadows were now circling over Nyx, and you couldn’t understand why he would think they would ever scare you when they could be so gentle—when they were a part of him.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, watching Nyx snooze peacefully on top of Azriel, the air in the room warm and calm. Eventually, you reached for your empty plate and glass, and stood up from the couch. Azriel tracked your movements, and when you turned to face him, he was already looking at you.

His cheeks were still a faint pink, the color making your mind wander back to training last week. His eyes were soft as he beheld you, and you had to fight your own blush from creeping up your cheeks. You lingered longer than you should have, standing there awkwardly with your hands full, but you didn’t want to leave Azriel. He was so stunning, so calm, and you knew it would be a long time before you saw him so unreserved again.

Your friends’ laughter from the living room faintly reached your ears, and you reluctantly took a step back from Azriel. “I should probably go socialize a little bit,” you said with a sigh and a teasing smile. “If you don’t mind?” you then asked, gesturing toward Nyx.

“Not at all,” he said softly.

You nodded, looking down at your hands. You held up the empty plate, then said, “Thank you for bringing me dinner.”

He simply smiled, and it was a small one at that, but it still made your stomach flip. You returned it, and then moved to the hallway, reluctantly leaving the beautiful shadowsinger with a babe sleeping on his shoulder.

~ ~ ~

You loved Velaris.

Truly, you thanked the Mother every day for leading you here, for Rhysand taking you in as a refuge when Cesere was attacked. You weren’t even a priestess, you were simply an Autumn Court female that had taken sanctuary at the temple, but that didn’t matter to Rhysand. You were just as much of a victim, and Clotho had let you reside with the other priestesses in the library once you arrived in Velaris.

You never felt entirely content, though, living in a mountain with only books to occupy your time. You also didn’t have the courage to leave said mountain—not until you befriended Gwyn, who befriended Nesta, and then pulled you along with her to training. Your life changed for the better that first day of training. You felt whole. For the first time in your life, you felt settled. 

The shadowsinger across the street from you had more to do with that feeling than anyone. You couldn’t explain why you were so enamored by him, so drawn in by his presence. You didn’t even like to acknowledge it, really. It only left you flustered and anxious about possibly losing the person who had quickly become a pillar in your life. You were positive that if that pillar came crashing down because you weren’t careful, you wouldn’t survive it. You clutched the piece of cloth you kept stuffed in your pockets, the familiar fabric soothing your anxious thoughts.

Your fears didn’t stop you from wanting him, though. It didn’t stop you from admiring him from afar, or even occasionally letting those admirations slip through your lips. He deserved to hear them, anyway.

He was just so kind. You had never witnessed a kindness quite like his, never been privy to such gentle care and respect. You had to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your chest every time his kindness was directed toward you, because he was kind to everyone. 

For fuck’s sake, you were currently watching him help a meek and embarrassed female fix her booth that had toppled over in the market square. His shadows collected stray jewels and baubles that had scattered on the ground, pushing them into a neat pile next to the female. You could tell Azriel was making every effort to appear smaller, less intimidating somehow, despite the leathers and siphons adorning his body. His wings were tucked in tight, and his shoulders were relaxed, his posture slightly slouched as he handed her things.

You saw his lips move softly as he said something that made the female smile slightly, her shoulders relaxing. Your heart clenched at the sight, an irrational jealousy igniting in your core as you watched her cheeks turn red, and Azriel smiled at her. You averted your gaze back to the jewelry in your hand, the owner of the booth you stood at clearly growing impatient with your dallying. 

You smiled sheepishly at the older male, setting the necklace back down on the velvet tablecloth. You glanced back at the booth across the street, a confusing mix of relief and disappointment twisting inside you when you saw the female sitting alone, and Azriel long gone.

 “Were you really not going to say hello?”

You spun toward the familiar voice, your heart racing as you met Azriel’s eyes, who was now standing only inches away from you. You swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. Were you going to say hello? Likely not, but you were too embarrassed that you had been watching him for the last five minutes without any true reason.

He didn’t wait for you to answer before he handed you a paper box. You frowned at the familiar blue container that came from the very bakery you were planning on visiting today. 

Azriel reached forward and opened it after watching you stare at it for far too long. “Had I known you were coming to the market today,” he said as he revealed the chocolate croissant, “I would have suggested we come together.”

Your lips parted as you looked at the fresh and luscious pastry, your mouth instantly watering. You picked it up and took a bite, the chocolate like heaven on your tongue. You hummed in appreciation as you ate the treat, muttering your thanks between bites.

Azriel laughed as he guided you into the busy street, his hand between your shoulder blades as the two of you meandered through the bustling market. When you reached a less populated area, his hand fell away, and he asked, “What are you doing out today?”

You held up the now empty box, swallowing the last bite of your pastry. “I was going to get one of these,” you answered. “So thank you for that. I guess now my mission is moot.”

Azriel laughed, his shoulder briefly brushing yours. “We can always go get another.”

You grinned. “You’re full of good ideas today.” You thought back to earlier, then said, “I saw you help that female.”

“Yeah,” was his simple response, and you could tell he was a bit bashful about it.

“That was kind of you, Az.”

He shrugged, not really accepting your compliment. “She needed help.” A passing faerie bumped into you, sending you stumbling into Azriel. They murmured a rushed apology when you glared at them, and Azriel steadied you by your waist. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you huffed, straightening your shirt. You tossed the empty box in a garbage bin as you kept walking. “What was she selling?” you asked, desperately trying to forget about the juvenile jealousy you felt when you watched him smile at her.

“Handmade jewelry. She said she just opened a storefront a few weeks ago, and was hoping a booth would garner some attention. I told her I would have to bring you by,” he said, completely nonchalant.

Your brain stuttered. “Me?”

He glanced at you, his brow furrowed. “Yeah?” he said slowly. “Why not? I thought you liked handmade things.”

You shook your head. “No—I mean, I do—” You paused, and Azriel’s expectant and confused expression made you falter. “That would be nice,” you said instead. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” he said lightly, his confusion still clear. 

You felt even more ridiculous for your earlier jealousy, and you didn’t feel like having him prod you anymore, so you diverted the conversation to an entirely different topic, albeit not very smoothly. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your tattoos.”

Azriel raised his brows. “My tattoos?”

You nodded, eyes roving over the swirls of ink that you did genuinely find fascinating. You lifted a hand to run your finger over one of the lines, his skin warm from the afternoon sun. You swallowed hard as you pulled your hand away, realizing you needed to actually ask him a question about them. “What do they mean?” you asked. 

He looked a bit reluctant to tell you, but before you could assure him he didn’t have to share, he said roughly, “They’re Illyrian.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he huffed out. “The only reason I don’t hate them is because I got them with Rhys and Cass. They’re supposed to stand for luck and glory. I only got them because we had just survived the Blood Rite, and they insisted we mark ourselves with their symbols just to spite them.” A small smile had creeped onto his face. “Which was convincing.”

You smiled hesitantly. “Well, I’ve always liked them.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, then traced the ink again. “They’re beautiful. Intricate. And it doesn’t matter if they have Illyrian origins, they’re yours. You got them with your brothers to celebrate your survival. That’s what they mean to you.”

His cheeks were dusted a faint pink, and pride surged in your chest. Your fingers trace the ink all the way down to the scars wrapped around his forearms, and you glance at him before following them down to his wrist, and then his palm. You thread your fingers through his, squeezing tightly. “Every mark on our skin tells a story. Our story. That’s never something to be ashamed of.” You brushed your thumb over the back of his hand, and his cheeks were now red, his eyes wide with awe. “It’s beauty in its rawest form.”

You tugged on his hand, knowing he wouldn’t have a response to that, urging him to keep walking with you. “And by the way,” you hummed, making Azrial turn toward you again, “I happen to quite like the story yours tells.”

His blush crept up to his ears, and you smiled to yourself triumphantly, loving every second that you got to see Azriel flustered. Every second that you saw him faced with compliments that he should always hear, that you wished he would learn to accept. You were worried he might drop your hand when he just stared at you for a moment, the silence charged and heavy around you. Instead, he squeezed your hand, and kept walking side-by-side with you, eventually murmuring the softest, “Thank you.”

~ ~ ~

“Can I ask you something?” you hummed, leaning forward on the counter, your head propped up in your hand.

Azriel smiled softly, amusement dancing in his eyes. He was across the counter from you, his back leaning against the granite that was faintly illuminated by the moonlight spilling into the kitchen. “What’s that?” he asked.

You hesitated, but your earlier conversation with Nesta was playing on a loop in your head, and your curiosity was eating at you. Your whole body was warm just thinking about it again. The wine running through your veins probably didn’t help, though it certainly gave you the courage to finally ask, “Is it true you can orgasm from someone touching your wings?”

Azriel choked on the tea he was sipping on, setting the mug down a bit harshly on the counter, the liquid sloshing over the rim. He coughed for a minute, his shadows fluttering around him in concern, but eventually he met your eyes. His own were wide as he asked you with a rasp, “Who told you that?”

You shrugged sheepishly, admitting, “Nesta might have mentioned it.”

He muttered something that sounded like “Mother help me” as he looked up at the ceiling, running a hand over the back of his neck. 

The movement made his leathers stretch over the muscles of his arm, and the heat that bloomed in your gut pushed you to ask, “Have you ever…?”

Azriel’s cheeks were pink as he looked back at you, the moonlight making the color across his skin even more pronounced. He gaped at you for a moment, but he eventually admitted, “Yes.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. A small part of you withered up at the admission, something acidic swirling inside you. You selfishly wanted him to say no, that he had never shared that part of himself with another. Which was insane, given he was over five centuries old. Of course, he had explored that with a lover.

He stepped closer to the island you sat at, his face softening. “Not often, though,” he added quietly, shocking you by elaborating. “I haven’t in a very long time. I was young, and curious, and—” He paused, shaking his head. His cheeks were still an adorable red, but his voice had regained its steadiness as he said, “It’s very vulnerable, to let another person touch your wings.”

You smiled softly, the wine finally making you a bit sleepy. Azriel had brought you home from Rita’s awhile ago. First you had insisted on tea before bed, and now you were pestering the poor male about his sex life of all things. You blamed Nesta for planting the seeds of curiosity in your mind, and Mor for plying you with far too much wine. At least you got to see him blush again, even if that wasn’t your outright goal tonight.

“I should probably go to bed,” you murmured quietly, pushing your mug away from you. You had barely drank your tea, and Azriel definitely noticed, but he was polite enough not to say anything. You met his eyes, his hazel irises unnervingly alluring as they simmered with something new, something you had never seen in Azriel’s gaze. You swallowed hard, and stood up from your stool. “Goodnight, Az.”

His throat bobbed, his jaw clenching briefly as he looked you over, then bid you a quiet goodnight. You didn’t linger, and you most definitely did not think about his lips, his eyes, or his wings as you laid in bed, waiting for sleep to claim you.

~ ~ ~

“Well you two are a sight for sore eyes,” Nesta drawled from beside you, her gaze sweeping up and down the two Illyrian warriors that had just appeared in the living room. 

They were caked in mud, covered from head to toe. Even their wings were covered in it, their normally elegant and translucent membranes now an opaque brown. Cassian undid the tie holding his hair back, shaking out the strands and sending a mixture of wet and crumbling mud flying all over. You ducked your head as Nesta scolded him, but he simply grinned at the two of you.

His eyes glinted as they locked on his scowling mate. “Won’t you come help clean up?” he asked innocently.

She scoffed, but stood up nonetheless, leaving her book on the table. “Only because if I don’t we’ll be finding remnants of your filth for days.” Cassian’s grin widened as he reached for his mate, but she quickly side-stepped him. “Don’t even think about it,” she growled, walking down the hall. Cassian quickly followed after her, disappearing from sight.

You swallowed hard, then looked back at Azriel. He smiled sheepishly at you, turning his palms outward. “I probably reek right now,” he said with a bit of a huff.

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “Not really—” Your words got caught in your throat when you did catch a scent of something far more alarming than dirt. “Are you bleeding?” you asked worriedly, sitting up straight.

Azriel winced. “I might be. Whatever the hell was in the bog scraped my back when we—”

“Your back?” you cut him off in alarm. You stood up, moving toward him. “Are your wings—”

“They’re fine,” he assured, his eyes watching you with a softness you had never seen before. You swallowed hard, feeling a bit embarrassed for your reaction. You stopped a few feet away from him, not sure what to do now.

His lips tipped up slightly before he nodded toward the hall. “I should probably clean myself up.”

“Do you need help?” you rushed out before he could move far.

Azriel froze, his eyes going wide. Mortification crawled up your spine, realizing that was an absurd offer. Azriel had been doing this for five centuries. He surely knew how to clean his back and wings himself. Cassian had asked Nesta for help, sure, but she was his mate—

“Yes,” he said softly, and your mind stalled for a minute. He had mud smeared all over his cheeks, but you were fairly certain you could see a flush creeping up his neck and to his face as he cleared his throat, then said again, “Yes. Please. I—It would be helpful to have someone else clean my back. If I’m still bleeding, it’s probably because the wounds are caked with mud—but I could call Madja if—”

“No,” you cut off his rambling. You had never seen Azriel stumble so much over his words before. It was endearing, but you also didn’t want him to second-guess asking you for help. Your offer was genuine, and you wanted him to know that. “I want to help.”

His throat bobbed as he studied you for a moment. His shadows were peeking out from behind him, as if they were being held back from exploring. “Thank you,” he said softly. Not for the first time, you wished it wasn’t so difficult for him to accept help, but you were honored that he was taking yours.

You followed behind him quietly as he led you to his room, pushing open the door for you before shutting it gently behind him. You tried not to ogle too much at his room, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bit giddy that Azriel was letting you see more of his life.

He was so private and reserved. You weren’t oblivious. You knew that him letting you into his room meant something, but you also weren’t delusional, and you weren’t going to let this warp your mind into thinking this was more than it was. This was Azriel, trusting you as his friend, to help him with something personal, vulnerable, and you would be damned if you screwed that up.

“What do you need me to do?” you asked softly, slowly dragging your gaze from Azriel’s oversized bed to meet his eyes.

He stared at you for a moment, and you shifted a bit under his gaze. “Az?” you asked again softly.

He blinked, then shook his head a bit. “Sorry, I—” He paused, closing his mouth, then said instead, “Let me clean up a bit first, okay?”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. Azriel’s eyes stayed glued to yours as he gestured toward the bed. “You can sit down,” he said softly. He finally peeled his eyes from yours, and you had to blink a bit to regain your bearings. 

You stayed put until he disappeared into the bathing room, noting that he left the door open. Your chest felt a little tight as you sank slowly onto the edge of his bed, which was somehow infinitely more comfortable than yours. You dragged your fingers over the black duvet, the fabric soft to the touch. You had to repress the urge to wrap yourself in the downy cover, to fully immerse yourself in Azriel’s scent. You pulled your hand back to your lap, feeling a bit insane. 

Despite his dark bedding, his room was….comfortable. It wasn’t bright by any means, but it was cozy. He had soft faelights scattered throughout the room that cast the room in a calming glow, and he had plush blankets thrown over the back of the chair sat in the corner. The case of books next to the chair called to you, and you nearly gave in to snooping through his collection when his voice startled you from your thoughts.

 You walked tentatively to the threshold of the bathing room, but you didn’t look inside. “Do you want me to come in?” you asked nervously. You closed your eyes, clenching a hand around those nerves and pushing them down. You were going to help Azriel without making a fool of yourself. It was fine. You were fine. You wanted to help him.

You could hear the amusement in his voice as he answered, “If you still want to help.”

You swallowed hard, steeling your nerves as you stepped inside, but they quickly melted to goo when you saw him still in the bath. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in his wet and bare skin, the Illyrian tattoos you were always so fascinated by winding around his arms. The bath was filled with bubbles and steam that concealed anything…intimate, but you still felt like you were on the precipice of doing or saying something very stupid as you neared him.

He smiled slightly at you, the mud cleared from his face to reveal his pink tinted cheeks. You would like to think that your presence caused the flush of his skin, but it was likely the heat of the bath. You folded your hands in front of you, awkwardly standing a few feet away from him. “What do you want me to do?”

He pointed to a bottle and cloth on the stool beside you, water falling from the arm he raised. “Just make sure it's clean, please. Then rinse it with that tonic from Madja. It should heal fine on its own.”

You nodded, mind steadying now that you had a clear task. You picked up the cloth and sat the bottle on the ground, dragging the stool so you could sit behind Azriel. “Just the one scrape then,” you asked absentmindedly as you inspected the rest of his back. There were a few scratches and bruises littered across his skin, but there was only one wound still bleeding.

“Yeah,” he said softly, then huffed a low laugh that didn’t sound all that amused. “It’s embarrassing, really.”

You frowned, dipping the cloth in the somehow clean water—likely thanks to the House. You rang it out before pressing the cloth against his skin. “It’s not embarrassing,” you said softly. Your ministrations were gentle over his wound, wiping away at invisible dirt, because really he had cleaned it well on his own. He didn’t say anything back, and when you switched the cloth for the tonic, you asked, “Why would a wound be embarrassing?”

“It’s not just that,” he said, voice low. “I—I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I don’t need your help.”

You stilled, the cap to the bottle clutched tight in one hand while the other was about to pour it over his wound. You tried not to let the words sting, tried to put yourself in Azriel’s place. You lowered the bottle to your lap, then asked softly, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he answered, though it sounded strangled. “I don’t.”

You sat with that for a minute, then moved so you could face him, kneeling at the side of the tub. Azriel’s eyes were conflicted as he met yours, and you noticed that his shadows had been sequestered away somewhere. “It’s okay to want someone to help you,” you started gently. 

He looked so vulnerable in front of you, naked and wounded in a tub of water, giving you free access to his back, trusting you enough to let you so close to his wings. It made your heart clench. “Even if you can do something yourself, that doesn’t mean you always have to.”

He stared at you silently, and you started to feel a bit silly, doubting that those were his true worries. He nodded, though, a small acknowledgement of your words that you knew meant a lot from him right now. You smiled softly, and his eyes brightened a bit, even if he didn’t return the gesture. “Can I finish what I started?” you asked, standing up from your position to reclaim your seat on the stool.

Azriel hummed his agreement, and you didn’t waste any more time before you poured the inky liquid over his wound, trusting Madja’s creations even if it looked disgusting. Azriel tensed as the liquid seeped in, and you mumbled an apology as you recapped the bottle. Eventually, he relaxed, and you watched the liquid run down his back and into the water. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Anytime,” you hummed, setting the bottle on the counter next to you, hoping your nonchalance would keep him from freaking out again.

Your eyes snagged on some brown smudges still scattered across one of his wings, and you bit your lip before saying, “There’s still some mud on the back of your wings.”

Before he could even respond, you asked, “Do you want me to clean them?”

That was apparently the wrong question to ask because Azriel visibly tensed, and you noticed his shadows start to creep out from the corners. Your mind flashed back to your drunken conversation with him last week, and your face immediately went hot. “Or not,” you rushed out, fumbling to rectify your mistake. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about—nevermind. I mean, not nevermind, because I will gladly clean them if you want me to—but if—”

“Y/N,” Azriel’s quiet voice cut you off, and your lips immediately clamped shut. He turned his body so he could meet your eyes, and you realized he had relaxed again. You wished you could say the same about yourself. “I would appreciate that,” he said quietly.

Your lips parted as you processed his words, and you realized this was him asking for the help he wanted, not necessarily needed, just like you told him to do moments ago. You swallowed hard before nodding, then picked up the wet cloth you had dropped. “Will it hurt?” you asked, feeling stupid and out of your depth. And nervous. You were incredibly nervous again.

“No,” he said, flaring his wings out a bit more for you to reach. “Just be gentle.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, and you clutched the cloth tight in your hand, struggling to lift it toward his delicate membrane. Azriel must have sensed your hesitance, because he turned his head slightly, a small frown on his face. “Y/N,” he said quietly, “You don’t have to.”

You bit your lip, while your heart was trying to fly straight out of your chest. “It’s not that,” you whispered. “It’s just—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. After our conversation last week—”

Azriel blanched and then swore under his breath. He shifted more so he could better face you, some water sloshing over the edge of the tub. “That’s not—touching my wings—” He shook his head. “It’s not always sexual. I wasn’t trying to take advantage—I swear to the Mother—”

It was your turn to blanch, and you cut him off hastily, “I never thought that.” Azriel’s mouth snapped shut as he stared at you with wide and frazzled eyes, and you were sure your expression mirrored his. “That never even crossed my mind, Azriel,” you said more softly. “It’s just…it’s intimate, right? You’re trusting me, and I don’t want to fuck up.”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed, his face softening. “It is intimate,” he agreed quietly. “And you don’t have to wash my wings for me. I can do it.” You started to protest but he cut you off with a pointed look. “But if you want to, there’s nothing to fuck up—unless you stab me in the back,” he hummed and you rolled your eyes.

He smiled softly, and you couldn’t help but return it. Your nerves had abated, now just a slight undercurrent thrumming in your veins in anticipation of touching Azriel again. It was silly, to be excited to touch him. He was trusting you to help him, as his friend, and you needed to focus.

You motioned for him to turn around, and said, “Okay, Shadowsinger.” He raised his brows and you grinned, but he did turn his back to you, flaring his wings out again.

You dunked the cloth in the water again, and asked softly, “Ready?”

He nodded, and you didn’t waste any more time hesitating or second-guessing if this was okay. He told you it was, and there was no sense in prolonging this. You brought the cloth to the delicate membrane, gently dragging it over the smudge of mud he missed. Azriel’s muscles rippled across his back at the contact, and you paused. “It’s okay,” he assured, though his voice was rough.

You didn’t question him. You kept cleaning his wings, moving slowly from one spot to the next, meticulously cleaning the thin but powerful membrane. Your fingertips sometimes brushed against the soft skin, but you didn’t dare outright touch him, no matter how much you wanted to.

“I’ve always thought your wings were beautiful,” you murmured, moving to the last smudge of dirt near the base of his wing. Azriel’s breath caught in his throat, but you kept speaking, “I mean, Illyrian wings in general are, but when I met you—” You dragged the cloth slowly over him, the dirt long gone, but you weren’t ready to pull away. “I was just in awe. Of a lot of things, really, but your wings are just stunning. They were practically glowing in the sun when we first met. And they shimmer in the moonlight—”

“Y/N,” Azriel rasped, and you pulled your hand away to move in front of him. He didn’t meet your eyes, but his face was flushed crimson, and for a brief moment you relished in putting that blush there. There was no doubt it was because of you, because of your words, and you were glad. Azriel deserved to hear these things, to hear such reverent compliments.

“I think you should leave.”

Just like that, your heart fell, and you scrambled to catch it, but it was no use. It slammed into the pits deep in your soul, and any warmth that was slowly seeping through you immediately iced over. You didn’t hesitate to drop the cloth in the water and stand up, to back away from Azriel and remove yourself from this mortifying situation.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped, and Azriel’s head did snap up to face you then. His lips parted as he looked at you, but you shook your head, taking another step back. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “That was—it was inappropriate.” Who were you to think it was your place to tell him such things? To so blatantly awe over him while he allowed you to help him with something so vulnerable? You felt sick.

You had enjoyed pushing him and prodding him over the last few weeks, delighting in the blush that seemed to arise more and more often in your presence. Now you questioned if it was because you made him uncomfortable, and not because he was flattered or flustered. You didn’t stay a second longer. You bolted out of the bathing room, out his bedroom, ignoring the tendrils of shadows licking at your heels as you moved aimlessly through the halls, until you shut yourself away in your room, begging the ground to swallow you whole.

~ ~ ~

It had been a week since you saw Azriel. Since you royally embarrassed yourself in front of him. It made your skin itch every time you thought about it, wishing you could claw the memory right out of you.

Today was his birthday. You stared at the little pile of gifts you had collected for him sitting on your desk, wishing you hadn’t fucked everything up and could just give them to him. You were fairly certain that you were the last person Azriel would want to see tonight, but you also knew you couldn’t skip out on his birthday dinner without facing an interrogation from the rest of your friends. Cassian would be here any minute to take you to the River House, so you shoved aside your humiliation and aching heart to slip on your shoes, and sighed before opening your bedroom door.

You nearly screamed when you saw a figure leaning against the wall across from your room, your heart rate only calming when you realized it was Azriel. Then it started racing for an entirely different reason.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice sounding gravelly.

He pushed off the wall to move closer to you, and your grip tightened on the door. “Picking you up,” he replied, his voice calm and cool, like nothing had changed.

Your mouth went dry as he stopped only a foot in front of you, his shadows sneaking out to curl around your ankles. He didn’t pull them back. “Why?”

He frowned a bit. “It’s my birthday.”

“I know,” you said hurriedly, not wanting him to think you forgot his damned birthday. “I know that. I meant—Cassian said he—”

“I told him I would pick you up,” Azriel said simply.

You blinked at him. “Why?”

Azriel finally showed some hesitation, his throat bobbing before he answered, “We need to talk.”

Now? He wanted to talk now, before you had to sit through a dinner with his entire family for his birthday. They were your friends, of course, but they were his family, and you were still so unsettled after last week. You were still so mortified by giving into your emotions, letting your impulses take over you when you were with him last time. You had tried telling yourself that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, you might have gushed over his beauty, but it’s not like you kissed him. 

Your heart was not convinced by that logic, though.

Azriel placed a gentle on your waist, and your eyes dragged from his touch up to his eyes. There was something hesitant in his gaze, an uncertainty you had never really seen in him. He nodded behind you. “Can I come in for a minute?”

It took you a second to process his request, but eventually you nodded, stepping back to allow him in.

He smiled softly, but you couldn’t return it. You were too anxious, watching the male you had grown embarrassingly infatuated with move around your room with curious eyes. His gaze snagged on the pile of wrapped gifts on your desk, and your face immediately heated when he looked at you.

He seemed to debate saying something, then decided against it, much to your relief. 

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked softly.

He took you in quietly, his observant gaze making you even more self-conscious. You rubbed at your arm, shifting on your feet, and his face softened. He took a step closer, and you held your breath, ignoring the surge of emotion that rose in your chest.

“No one has ever made me feel the way you do,” he said quietly. His words rattled through your core, stealing your breath and knocking all sense from your mind. “And last week, what you did for me? I’ve never felt so comfortable with someone, never trusted someone so implicitly, and it terrified me.” He took in a ragged breath, running a hand through his hair. “I was scared, and I pushed you away, and I’m sorry. To just ask you to leave after you helped was–” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable,” you whispered, failing to really comprehend what he was telling you.

Azriel immediately moved closer to you, stopping only inches away. “You have never made me uncomfortable, Y/N,” he said, picking up your hand. “Since the day I met you, I’ve been drawn to you. I would catch myself wondering about you, asking about you, before you ever even came to training. Then when I actually got to know you, when you became my friend, it took everything in me not to cling to you.”

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his skin rough against yours. His touch was so gentle, so comforting, and you wanted to drown in it. You wanted to fall into him, to beg him to hold you and let you melt against him. “I thought you needed a friend, more than anything, and I wanted to give that to you, but these last few weeks have felt different. I could have been reading things wrong, but—”

“You haven’t,” you cut him off, meeting his surprised eyes shyly.

“I haven’t?”

“No,” you said sheepishly. “I—I’ve always been drawn to you too,” you admitted quietly. “But last month, at training, when I told you your eyes were pretty?”

Azriel nodded, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “I remember.”

“Of course you do,” you muttered, feeling embarrassed now. “Well, you blushed when I told you that, and I loved it. You always made me feel flustered. I felt like I was always the one blushing and floundering for words around you, and it just felt good to know that I had the same effect on you.”

Azriel’s smile widened a bit, but he let you keep rambling, “So I kind of started pushing you a bit more. I wanted to make you blush, but I also thought you deserved to have someone tell you nice things. It became more about that, really. I just, I’ve always thought those things, I just started to let myself say them. Last week I was a bit more overbearing, I guess—”

“You weren’t,” Azriel said softly. His eyes were bright as they looked at you, and you wanted to swim in his irises. His beautiful irises that had fully captivated you, and were the reason you were even in this current situation. His cheeks were tinted pink, and it made your stomach flip.

“You’re blushing now,” you whispered, a bit breathless.

He somehow moved even closer, making your breath hitch. He picked up your other hand, squeezing them both tight. “I know,” he murmured, his eyes glued to yours. You had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “You seem to have that effect on me.” One of his hands moved up to cradle your jaw, and electricity shot up your spine. “Is it too late to ask for a gift for my birthday?” he asked, voice low and warm and intoxicating.

You swallowed hard, staring up at him with wide eyes. Your lips parted as your gaze flicked down to his, then back to his eyes. “Depends what it is,” you breathed out.

He moved his face even closer, his lips so close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “A kiss?”

Vulnerability laced his voice, and it made your heart clench. You easily closed the little remaining distance between the two of you, his lips against yours utterly electrifying. You never wanted it to end. He kissed you like you were a gift, like you were precious, and he wanted to savor every second with you. His lips were just as soft as you thought they would be, and you wanted more.

You tugged at his sweater, loving the feel of the soft fabric in your hands in lieu of his usual leathers. His hand squeezed your hip, tugging you closer. His tongue brushed against your mouth, and when you gasped, opening your lips for him, he pulled away. You whined slightly, the sound escaping your lips as his thumb brushed your cheek. His voice was breathless as he said, “We’re going to be late.”

You pressed your lips to his again, and he indulged you for a moment, before pulling away again with a soft chuckle. “We can continue later,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing yours. Your forehead fell to his chest, his sweater still clutched in your hands.

“Is this real?” you asked, voice muffled by his chest.

Azriel’s arms wrapped around you, pressing you even closer to him. “It’s real,”  he hummed quietly, squeezing you as you nuzzled into him. His shadows brushed your cheek, and you smiled softly, certain you were glowing from the inside out.

~ ~ ~

You knew Azriel deserved to spend his birthday with his family, surrounded by love and laughter, but you selfishly wished the two of you could have hid away for the night. You didn’t think it was entirely fair that you spent the entire day thinking you had ruined your friendship, only for him to show up and kiss you, and then drag you to family dinner. It was fine. Truly, it was. It was his birthday, and he deserved to celebrate.

You were just feeling very discombobulated and flustered as you watched him from afar, your sole company the cookies piled on a platter on the kitchen island. You chewed on one absentmindedly as Azriel smiled at Nyx, laughing as the little boy wiggled and giggled in his grasp. He passed the boy to Feyre, and Cassian swooped in to place another drink in his hand.

He was happy, and it was beautiful to see. He seemed more relaxed than you had ever seen him, and it made your heart glow to see him grin and laugh with his brothers. You could deal with this moment of limbo for a bit if it meant he got to have this.

“Az seems chipper,” Nesta hummed as she walked into the kitchen.

You sat your cookie down, spinning on your stool to follow her around the island. “He does,” you said lightly, glancing back at him. When you looked back at Nesta she had a smirk on her face. “What?” you asked.

“I have never seen him so…free. Happy,” she told you.

“It’s his birthday.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is,” she agreed. “But you can’t tell me that Azriel cares that much about his birthday. He’s had over five centuries of them.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You turned to look over your shoulder again, watching Azriel laugh as Cassian tells some story, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “That,” Nesta said, “is pure joy.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “It is.”

“Why exactly are you hiding in here with the cookies?” she asks.

Nerves quickly turned in your stomach. “I just—” You what? How the hell could you possibly explain what you were feeling right now? “I don’t want to suffocate him.”

Nesta looked you up and down, her lips turning into a small frown. “Everyone knows there is something between you two.” Your eyes widened, your lips parting, but she didn’t let you speak before she said, “And I promise you, that male wants you in there with him more than anyone else. You wouldn’t be intruding or overstepping, or whatever lies you’ve been telling yourself all night.”

You swallowed hard, once again turning to watch him. He was just…captivating. Everything about him just left you awestruck, his presence alone making you feel warm and giddy. “I think I love him, Nesta,” you admitted softly, your words barely more than a breathy whisper.

She came around to place a hand on your shoulder. “I know,” she said, her voice equally quiet. “I’m fairly certain that love is required.”

Before tonight you would have denied it. You would have scoffed and told her to fuck right off with planting cruel and fruitless hope in your heart. Azriel had kissed you, though. He came to you, and opened up a little sliver of himself just for you. It could have just been lust, you supposed, but you didn’t think it was. There was too much between the two of you for it to just be…superficial. Even thinking about it made your stomach sour.

“Go on,” Nesta urged. “Go celebrate with him.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hesitation and nerves still anchoring you to your seat. You nearly sprung right out of it when something brushed against your neck, though, and relief flooded you when you saw a tendril of shadow. Nesta laughed as she walked away to sit back down with her mate. The shadow fled back to Azriel, circling his ear slowly. Azriel turned to face you, his eyes locking with yours from across the house.

You smiled softly, your nerves immediately melting away when he matched your smile. His gaze lingered for a moment, before he slowly dragged his attention back to his conversation with Cassian. Nesta’s words swam around in your head, and with one last deep breath, you pushed yourself from your stool to join the rest of your friends in the living room.

Your approach was slow, and you debated where to go, but you knew you wanted to be near Azriel. You actually wanted to steal him away for yourself, even if just for a moment. You rounded his side, and leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, his skin soft beneath your lips. His head immediately snapped to you when you pulled away, and you grinned when you watched his face go red.

You sat on the arm of his chair, your frame so small compared to his that you could rest your head on his shoulder if you wanted. You leaned in close again, and his hand rested on your thigh as if to balance you on the chair. “Happy birthday, Az,” you whispered in his ear. “Can you come with me for just a second?”

His hand squeezed your thigh as he looked at you with wide eyes, his nod almost immediate.

“You look a little flushed, Az,” Rhys drawled from the chair across the room.

Cassian’s laugh was near booming as he exclaimed, “Look at him blushing!”

Azriel’s gaze instantly hardened, but there was no hiding the red coating his cheeks and ears. He pulled you up with him as he stood, his hand resting on the small of your back, the weight settling and electrifying all at once. 

“You should see him at training, Rhys,” Cassian went on. “Y/N is my hero. I’ve never seen Az come undone with just a look until she came along.”

You actually had no idea what he was talking about. Sure, you had started making him blush with your little compliments and touches, but…had there been more than that? “Fuck off, Cassian,” Azriel growled as he steered you away from your friends’ prying eyes and ears. He led you outside to the gardens, the moonlight casting a faint glow on everything.

The light made his eyes shimmer, and you smiled softly at the sight. “I’m sorry about them,” Azriel muttered, but you could tell there was some reluctant amusement behind his words.

You grinned softly, placing a light hand on his chest. “It’s fine,” you said. “I’m sorry for pulling you away from them.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, and he brought a hand up to brush your cheek. “I’ve been plotting my escape with you for the last hour.”

You laughed, leaning into his touch. “You can’t be serious.”

“Very.” He grinned, then slowly leaned down to press his lips to yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your body melted into him, his hold the only thing keeping you upright as he kissed you desperately. Lovingly.

You reluctantly broke away, laughing when he tried to follow after you. “I did actually have something to give you,” you told him.

He leaned back in for another peck, and then another, the two of you smiling against each other. “You are more than enough,” he hummed happily.

Your body flushed at his words, your heart doing somersaults in your chest. It all felt so surreal, but after Nesta’s little talk, after you admitted you loved him, you had decided you needed to show him this. 

You pushed away slightly to reach into your pocket, then paused. “Your real gifts are at the House, but—”

“So that pile of presents was for me,” he said, his grin teasing.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes,” you admitted with a huff, then continued more softly, “But I wanted to show you this.”

Azriel immediately turned more serious at your tone, watching as you pulled the tiny square of fabric from your pocket. You unfolded it for him to reveal the jagged edges, the true size no bigger than your palm. The fabric was as dark as the night sky, the shade blending seamlessly with the shadow that passed over your open palm.

His eyes were wide as they moved from your hand to your face. “What—”

“It’s from your cloak,” you rasped, unexpected emotion clawing at your throat as you looked at it. “From the night you saved us at Cesere.” You bit your lip, hesitating a moment before telling him, “I watched it get caught on a broken column, and I grabbed the strip left behind before Mor winnowed us to Velaris. I don’t know what compelled me to do so, but I’ve carried it with me since.” 

You squeezed the fabric in your palm, your eyes drifting back to Azriel’s, his eyes now shining in the moonlight. “It became my reminder that there is good in this world. That there is always hope, even amid terror and destruction.”

Azriel kissed you, both of his hands coming up to grip your face. It was so brief, but so passionate—so reverent—it left you dazed. His forehead rested against yours, his hands still cradling your face, as he rasped, “I love you.”

Your lip wobbled as his words washed over you. “I love you, too,” you replied, voice watery.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then pulled you into his chest, his arms tucking you in against him. His wings wrapped around you, cocooning the two of you in a bubble of darkness, and you nearly sobbed as a glowing thread unfurled between you.

[sassybluebird]

satoru turns into a cat, reader hates his guts as a human but loves cats coincidentally, reader and gojo are both teachers at jujutsu tech, satoru craves attention and doesn’t realize it until you give him some love <3

you can’t stand satoru, but when he gets hit by a curse that turns him into a cat, you find him, to his dismay, and take him home, only for him to realize how different you are when he isn’t around to pester you.

at first, he causes a lot of trouble. breaking things in your house, tearing up the pillows. he just wants to be a human again, but nobody can understand him! but you still take care of him and coddle him no matter how much trouble he causes, so different from how people treat him normally, as if he were a nuisance (which he kind of was on purpose). and he finds himself falling for you without realizing it.

so he stops being a bad cat, steadily losing hope that he’ll ever be human again. and satoru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy how you stroked him while you read a book or let him sleep beside you at night. maybe it wasn’t so bad? so he decided then if he was going to be just a cat, he was fine with being your cat.

the higher-ups had taken note of his absence, obviously, and he only knows cause you’ve mentioned it to him. you had this endearingweird quirk where you’d talk to him as if he were a real person.

throughout his stay in your home as a house pet, satoru finds out a lot about you. you’ve always kept to yourself, but you vent your frustrations out to him while he’s like this, and he offers his comfort the best he can. which you appreciate, rewarding him with kisses that he secretly enjoys.

once he turns human again, by some miracle, his first thought is to go and find you. and when he does, you give him the cold shoulder like you used to, and it surprises him. before he realizes that, ah, he wasn’t your pet anymore. he was gojo satoru.

satoru realizes his feelings for you in that moment. when he feels the ache in his chest from your dismissive behavior, it leads him to starting his most important mission yet—winning your heart once more.

but this time, it’ll be as a person, not a damn cat.

[sassybluebird]

600 words, aizawa x reader, tw christmas and pet name (babe)

He hates it. You can tell from Shouta’s face that he hates the watch you got him for Christmas.

It was an antique you found at a pawnshop, costing a pretty penny, and you genuinely thought he would like it. He likes the old things you buy him! The first antique you bought him, he made a joke about how you thought he was old, but he loved it…or you thought he did. 

But now he’s sitting on the loveseat across from the recliner you’re sitting on in your shared home. And there’s this look on his face you can’t quite decipher; it's something you’ve never seen before. His jaw ticks, like he wants to say something, but his brows are furrowed like he’s thinking. 

There’s a heavy silence in the air, him staring at the watch and you staring at him, then the telltale sound of cats pitter-pattering can be heard coming from the kitchen. They’re probably playing with the gifts Shouta bought them, and any other time you would get up to watch, but you're a little preoccupied. 

Shouta lets out a tiny sigh, a small smile forming on his face after what feels like forever. “It’s... I love it.”

“You do? It took you a long time to respond." You breathe out a sigh of relief. “I thought you hated it.” 

“No, it's,” He chuckles, looking up at you. “I couldn’t hate it. I couldn’t hate a single thing you got me.” He is smiling wider, and it's something you only see once in a blue moon. The uncontrollable smile he does when he just can’t contain his feelings. 

“I saw it in the case, and I thought, ‘This is something Sho would wear,’ so I bought it.” You admit bashfully. God, you feel like a teenager when he looks at you like that.

You’re both staring at each other now; the watch is still in its box, but you both are too intertwined in eye contact. Any outsider would see this and think it was weird how you both were staring into each other's souls, but it's warm and not awkward at all. It feels like the sun is beaming extra hard inside of the walls of your house, despite the temperature being set at a cool 65 degrees. 

“This is my watch.” He speaks up.

“Yeah, babe, I bought it for you.” Now you’re the one chuckling. 

“No,” He rolls his eyes, but he isn’t annoyed with you; he’s smiling. “This was my watch when I was in school. I sold it because I needed the money.” His hands are moving now, taking the watch out of its box and looking at the bottom, where the part that holds the battery can be seen. 

“You didn’t notice the S.A. engraved in the back?” He asks incredulously.

You lean over; an inch more and you’d fall, and it seems more reasonable to just sit next to him, but you still lean. And you can see it clearly in the natural light of your living room, his initials perfectly aligned on the back of the case. You hadn’t noticed when you were in the pawnshop. No wonder you thought it was perfect for him. 

“So I got you a watch that you already had? No wonder I thought you’d like it.” You laugh, and before you know it, you’re both laughing and embracing. 

A few light kisses are shared for no more than a minute before he’s pulling away. 

“I have to call Mic, he’s not going to believe this.” He stands and walks to the phone. And you’re giggling on the couch.

[sassybluebird]

shame on me || chapter eleven || safety

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 9.1k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

Anticipation eats you alive throughout the night as you groan to yourself each time you wake up in the early morning hours to glance at the time. Strangely excited to see what Gojo has planned for your date, it seemed it was managing to keep you awake, much to your dismay.

It’s not until seven in the morning that you feel you can acceptably rise for the day, deciding to busy yourself by getting ready. As you turn on the shower, you can hear heavy footsteps overhead, which is unusual for this time and you wonder if the anticipation is eating away at Satoru just as it is at you.

You giggle to yourself at the thought. To think that the two people who could barely stand to be in a room with one another were now barely able to sleep like children awaiting Christmas morning all for a date.

What a world.

Choosing an outfit for the date is an equally difficult task. Of course, you know he’ll compliment you no matter what you wear, but you really hadn’t brought that much clothing since moving here a few months ago in the grand scheme of things. You wanted to wear something for the occasion.

As you eye your closet from where you’d plopped down on your back over barely folded blankets, one dress catches your eye. A small black dress, more form-fitting than your usual sundresses, though still fairly casual, that falls quite high on your thighs and reveals more skin than you usually show off as well.

The same black dress Satoru had commented on when you’d carried it over to the cabin.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you pull it on over your head, flattening it down as you stare at yourself in the mirror. It hugs your curves in just the right way, accentuating your form in a way that makes you feel hot, although you wonder if it’ll even be appropriate for whatever Satoru has planned.

Steeling your resolve, you throw on a cute light brown cardigan over the dress to feign a more casual look and head out to the kitchen.

Satoru’s back faces you. His hair is damp, fresh from a shower and dripping down his bare back. His muscles ripple in the most eye-catching way as you catch yourself practically drooling over him. A pair of gray slacks hangs low on his hips, while a button-up shirt hangs from the back of the chair. Maybe the dress wouldn’t be too fancy after all.

Taking a few steps into the kitchen, you peer over Satoru’s side to see what he’s cooking. It’s rare to find him cooking on a Sunday. Or at all, really. Now that you were feeling better, Satoru rarely got in front of the stove aside from Saturday mornings. You’d taken to cooking more often and he’d returned to his poor eating habits, which you made sure to scold him for.

Of course, Gojo wasn’t always the best listener. He didn’t care much for your lessons in taking care of himself.

“Well don’t you look gorgeous?” He grins at you from over the rounds of his glasses.

Blush paints your cheeks at his compliment as you smile up at him through your lashes.

“Pretty thing like you might just take my breath away,” he smirks, flipping a pancake.

“Toruuu,” you let out a breathy chuckle, averting your gaze from his striking blue ones that bore into you.

Setting the spatula down, he turns to face you, chuckling at the way your eyes travel his toned frame with little subtlety. “Nuh uh,” he chides, a forefinger and thumb gently lifting your chin as he leans down to your level. Your breath hitches at the close proximity. “C’mon, give me a twirl.”

He takes a step back, making a small spinning motion with his finger. His face twists into one of mock thought, as though he’s judging you like a contestant on one of the cheesy reality shows he loves to watch.

You giggle shyly, indulging him as you twirl, your cardigan splaying out during the action.

With playfully narrowed eyes and a hand held to his chin, he hums as though in thought. “You know, I think to judge properly, I might just need another one.” His eyes glint with mischief as you scoff at him.

Giving him one more twirl, he reaches out and pulls you against him mid-spin. “Fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles into your hair as you let out a surprised squeak at the sudden action. “I give you a solid eleven out of ten.”

“Satoru!” You cry out, pushing against him as he all but crushes you in his tight bear hug.

“I think you deserve more points, but I was only allowed to give ten so eleven was pushing it,” he chuckles slyly, kissing the crown of your head before letting you go.

Smoothing out your dress, you huff in mock exasperation. “You’re such a handful,” you grumble. He hums as though that’s obvious, returning his attention to the pancakes as he flips the pan and dumps two out onto a plate. He sets them on the table, pulling out a chair for you.

Thanking him, you take a bite and smile.

“What has you up so early?” You query with a tilt of your head.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “Wanted to make you breakfast and heard you were awake.”

“I heard you walking around when I was getting in the shower,” you confront him with a raised eyebrow.

“Sleep and I aren’t the best of buddies,” he admits with his back to you, though you can hear the frown in how he speaks.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he shoots you a smile. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“You know I ask because I do worry about you, right?”

He remains facing the stove, flipping both pancakes silently. You know this side of Satoru, the side that shuts down any and all questions about him because he feels the need to be strong.

“Satoru, please,” you plead with him, not wanting this to become another fight. You’d both grown past that, or so you thought. He faces away from you still, fiddling with the spatula’s handle.

“I haven’t slept since the attack,” he admits quietly, still refusing to meet your gaze.

“The attack… two months ago?”

He nods in confirmation, those eerily intense blue eyes fixed on you as he glances over his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your brow knits together in concern, a crease forming at the bridge of your nose.

His mouth opens and closes once, twice. He sighs, clearly growing frustrated and you wonder how dangerously close you teeter on the edge of this becoming a real argument. All you can truly do is keep your own frustration from getting out of hand.

Setting your fork and knife down as silently as possible in an effort to keep things calm, you slowly get to your feet, traversing the kitchen in three easy steps to set a gentle hand on his bicep. He’s tense beneath your fingers, but takes in a breath.

“‘Cause I felt like I was treading on eggshells around you until the other week,” he practically whispers, an admission that feels like pulling teeth to get out of him for both him and you.

You nod slowly, a pang of hurt clenching in your chest, though you know that isn’t fair. You’re both aware of the fact that the feeling was mutual.

“I understand,” you hum quietly, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. His arm relaxes somewhat as he shoots you a glance, examining your expression. “I’m not gonna force you to answer or anything, but what happened?”

The glimmer that passes through his eyes as he turns to face you is enough to make you shiver. Fear, hurt, uncertainty, he looks vulnerable. Truly, really, vulnerable.

His chest rises and falls heavily under your watchful eyes and to your surprise, he reaches gingerly for your hand. His thumb gently runs over your knuckles.

“I couldn’t get the image of you covered in blood out of my head,” his voice is low as he stares at the movement of his thumb, brow pulled together in discontentment.

You frown, uneasiness roiling in your stomach. You knew Yuta had delivered the blow to take you down during the incident, but you hadn’t considered the fact that he’d likely damn-near killed you to do so.

Wrapping your fingers around his gentle hand, you bring it up to kiss his knuckles, watching the minute change of expression as he relaxes a bit more.

“Did you want to try to have a nap before we go out?”

He considers your offer before shaking his head, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Nah, I’m used to getting this much sleep. Thank you though, sweetheart.”

You smile kindly up at him, taking a step forward to leave a kiss on his jaw. Rolling back onto the heels of your feet, you return to the table. Satoru watches you with soft admiration, a muscle in his jaw rolling as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Thanks for talking to me,” you tell him, happy he’s opening up.

He nods, sighing as he lets his shoulders hang naturally and turns back to the pancakes. He dumps them onto a plate for himself, drowning them in syrup as he watches you feed and play with Taro.

“What’s the plan for the day?” You curiously turn to him as Taro tugs on a rope held between your hands.

“I told ya already,” he smiles, recovering easily from the vulnerability of the morning. “It’s a surprise.”

Groaning impishly at Satoru, you let Taro take his rope, the dog violently shaking the toy as he excitedly runs circles around the table. “You’re such a tease.”

“Always, baby.” He grins slyly.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Satoru keeps you company as you water your garden before he takes your hand and leads the way to the waiting car with Ijichi. Gojo opts to give him an exact address, firm on keeping the destination a secret until the end.

You don’t recognize the area or the little cafe you’ve arrived at when you step out of the vehicle and take Satoru’s hand. He breaks contact to push the sleeves of his white dress shirt up past his elbows before taking your hand again as he leads you across the street to the little cafe.

The cafe has gorgeous wooden oak walls and floors with white accents, plants littering each and every shelf and spare corner. It’s cozy and warm, and you smile at the thought Satoru put into the location.

As he leads the way to the counter, you suddenly realize the cafe is connected to another room. A glass pane separates both rooms with a door connecting them, and that’s when you see a pair of reflective yellow eyes curiously staring back at you.

You gasp at the sight, your eyes focused on the little ball of fur with its tail held high in the air as the little cat stares back at you.

“It’s so cute,” you breathe out, your eyes shining in wonder in a way that has Satoru grinning behind you.

“Y’like it?” He peers down at your expression, pleased with himself that he’d gotten such a reaction from you.

“This is so cute, Toru!” You beam at him, your fingers tangling in his as you reach down for his much larger hand.

As your turn to order comes, you let Satoru go first as you peruse the menu. Once you’ve both ordered, an employee leads the way into the cat room, and you feel as though you could practically cry at the sight of all the tiny furballs in the room.

“I’m gonna burst,” you state bluntly as a tiny tabby kitten prances up to your ankles, rubbing up against them with a small mew.

“Me too,” Satoru responds, his gaze fixed warmly upon you.

The sorcerer finds an empty table in the corner, the small tabby trailing the entire way after you. You set your drink on the table before you, leaving it close to the wall in hopes that it wouldn’t get knocked over by the small pair of paws holding a little gray kitty up as it smells your hands.

“Have you been here before?” You ask Satoru as you smooth your hand over the cat’s head, your attention on its gorgeous golden-orange eyes.

“I drop by for their cheese tarts sometimes,” he grins, “but I’ve never actually been on this side.”

“It’s really pretty,” you comment, glancing around at all the modern decorations, littered with scratching posts and toys.

“Mhmm,” Satoru hums in agreement, his gaze fixed on you. “Very,” he agrees cheekily.

You roll your eyes, a faint blush rising to your cheeks. “You’re shameless.”

“You love it.”

You can’t hide your smile, taking his hand from across the table as he offers it.

A big silver tabby hops onto the table before you, purring immediately as you scratch behind its ears with sparkles in your eyes. Satoru gently runs his hand down its back as it lays down before you, enjoying the attention.

“Did you ever have pets as a kid?” You ask Satoru.

He shakes his head. “Nah, the clan didn’t have pets.”

“Right, I guess that would be a lot different than how I grew up.” You can really only imagine what it would be like to grow up as a special grade sorcerer from birth, especially given his title that you grew sick of hearing.

“Did you have any?” He leans forward on his elbows, giving you his full attention.

“I had fish, my dad wouldn’t let me get anything else in case the vet bills got bad.”

He nods, taking a sip of his coffee. “Did you teach it any tricks?”

“Can’t say I did,” you giggle along to his jest. “Taro knows some, though.”

“What, ‘bark at satoru’, ‘growl at satoru’, ‘bite satoru’, and ‘chase satoru’?” He scoffs, sipping his coffee again.

You bark a laugh, thrilling Satoru as he sees your wide grin, a matching one spreading across his features. “No,” you shake your head, “he can sit, shake a paw, lay down, and play dead.”

“So where exactly do the parts about him hating me come into play?” He asks curiously with a raised brow.

“He is a guard dog, you know. I got him to warn me about you.”

Satoru makes a face, his lip curling up in mock irritation with narrowed eyes, but he knows better than to defend himself when he did deserve it.

“Guess he was pretty good at his job, then. At least he likes me now,” he shrugs, running a hand through his tousled locks.

“Thanks again for taking care of him while I was out. I don’t know what I’d do without that pup.”

He smiles genuinely. “Anything for you, pretty.”

You avert your gaze from the candy-sweet look Satoru gives you with lidded eyes as he leans forward on his elbows with a boyish grin.

Before you can hide your face from the sickeningly sweet grin he’s giving you, a gorgeous white cat with long fur and pretty blue eyes hops up between you on the table, its furry tail curling into Satoru’s face. He sputters in surprise as the long hair gets in his mouth.

Giggling, you reach out to pet the cat, but it’s completely enamored with Satoru, mewing a demand for his attention. Even as he pulls cat hair from his mouth with a dramatically exasperated expression, he reaches out to pet the cat, who curls its tail around its paws and sits down with a contented purr.

Leaning into Satoru’s touch, the cat turns to look at you and you purse your lips, looking back and forth between the snowy-haired sorcerer and his equally frosty-haired new companion.

“Oh my god,” you gasp.

“Hm?”

“It’s Satoru Junior!” You exclaim, pulling out your phone and snapping a photo of a disgruntled Satoru and his calm little twin.

“I do not look like this cat,” he insists, reaching across the table. “Delete that!”

Holding your phone away, you lean out of reach of his lanky arms, giggling at his reaction.

Letting out a huff, he scratches the cat’s little chin. “I don’t look like you,” he tells the cat in a high-pitched voice. “You’re ruining my reputation.”

“What reputation is that?” You tease.

He glances up at you slyly. “You tell me, princess.”

In truth, you had expected him to say something that you would be able to match his backtalk for, but you hadn’t expected him to leave you speechless. With lips pursed, you feel heat rising to your shoulders, a deep and obvious blush dusting your cheeks up to the tips of your ears.

“That one got ya, huh?” He grins coyly, gently nudging the cat who leans into his touch. “Maybe you’re not so bad, little guy.”

“Satoruuu…” You bashfully hide your face in your hands, butterflies erupting and fluttering in your stomach.

“So flustered,” he coos, reaching across the table and gently tangling his fingers with yours as he pulls your hands down from your face, admiring the gorgeous pink tint across your cheeks.

Sparing you from growing more flustered, a tiny kitten grabs your attention as it bats at your ankle. Both you and the sorcerer across from you eventually find yourselves sitting on the floor with a string toy and a pair of tiny kittens.

Conversation finds you easily, all the while playing with the kittens and cats who come and go as they please.

It’s easy to watch the way Satoru excitedly tells you stories from school, from when Megumi was younger, and from when he would travel more for missions. His expression is one of easy happiness, glimmering with excitement at the way you pay close attention to every detail, recalling little things he mentions.

He’s eager to learn more about you as well, though you’re more reserved in the way you tell stories. Satoru’s never been one to be quiet though, as much as he does want to listen and hear your stories, he loves to add commentary. It’s endearing, the way he listens so intently in spite of his inability to stay quiet.

As the sun traverses the sky and the soft rays of evening sun paint the cafe walls golden with cats basking in the rays of warmth, Satoru offers you his hand as he pulls you up off the floor and leads you out the door.

“I’m covered in fur,” you giggle, trying to brush some of it off your black dress to no avail.

Satoru kicks his legs out dramatically, showing off his equally fur-covered gray slacks with a grin.

Expecting Satoru to lead you back to the car, you’re surprised when he tugs you along to another shop down the street.

Really, it shouldn’t surprise you that he would want to visit someplace to get a sweet treat. Sure enough, he pulls you into a traditional ice cream parlor with a grin, ordering two cones and handing you one.

Each time you think he’ll pull you back to the car, he surprises you by bringing you somewhere else.

Ice cream still in hand, he pulls you along with him further down the street to a massive park with a pond, surrounded by beautiful greenery speckled in flowers. Bubbles float to the surface of the water as fish follow your shadow in hopes of food, birds chirping overhead in the trees. The sound of leaves and branches colliding overhead in the breeze is a comfort like no other, reminding you of your peaceful years in your cottage.

Satoru leans down to kiss your cheek. He doesn’t need to ask whether you like it, the glimmer in your eyes is all the response he needs.

Leading the way between two large cherry trees, he finds his way to a cute little bench stationed in a small clearing, overlooking the pond from the shade of the large trees overhead, and free of prying eyes. A small respite from the bustling streets of Tokyo.

Of course Satoru would find a place like this. As he pulls you onto the bench beside him, a relaxed sigh parting his lips, you find yourself admiring his features. His sharp jawline, the way his white hair falls so delicately over his striking blue eyes, the way the sunset light shines over his long lashes. Admiring him as though he’s a masterpiece, made for your eyes only.

He notices the way your deep red eyes train on him with ardor, but he’s always enjoyed the attention, especially yours, so who is he to stop you? He moves his arm to wrap around your middle, pulling you against him comfortably. As his fingers rest on your waist, you reach up to kiss his jaw.

“So Satoru,” you start, tilting your head up to look at him. “How long have you been planning this, really?”

A faint blush dusts his cheeks. “I found this place a few months ago,” he admits softly, his voice strangely tender. “I always thought you would like it.”

Though you know the reason he pushed you away for so long, it’s still strange to hear that he thought of you in moments like these. You can’t help but wonder if he’d had some semblance of feelings all along that he’d spent so long pushing down all in favor of keeping up his ability to play the role of the weapon of the higher-ups.

“Well, I don’t like it,” you start, barely able to hold back playful giggles as he shoots you a concerned look. “I love it,” you grin, watching as he works a muscle in his jaw with a disgruntled expression. His eyes still shine with adoration, giving away his true soft demeanor.

As his features soften when you smile up at him, he leans into you, nuzzling his face into your hair. “So I did well?” He asks, voice muffled in an effort to mask his genuine nerves.

“This is perfect, Toru. I’m having a great time.” Your hand finds his thigh and he smiles against your scalp, setting his larger hand over yours.

“Good,” he breathes out happily. Returning your attention to your melting ice cream, you both happily bask in the gentle heat of the setting sun over the pond, enjoying the cool treat as a contrast to the heat.

Satoru’s attention trains on a fish at the edge of the pond, bubbles rising from its movements. It dashes off suddenly, as if spooked by something. With his eyes still trained on the pond, he asks you something out of the blue.

“You haven’t been out of Japan much, right?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t have the chance before Miriko woke up and now I don’t really want to bring a dragon onto a plane.”

He nods in understanding. “Would you ever want to? Travel, I mean. Not specifically the dragon part.”

You stare at him questioningly. “Of course. I just don’t think it’s an option.”

Satoru hums thoughtfully. “If you could, where would you go?”

“I want to see the northern lights,” you tell him.

His brow raises as he tilts his head. “You’ve never seen them?”

“They’re not that common,” you shrug. “I’ve tried, but I don’t think my cottage was far enough out of town.” You kick at a pebble by your feet, watching as it tumbles down the small bank at the edge of the pond, a splash reaching your ears as it submerges. “I’ve always thought Iceland would be fun.”

Gojo takes in what you’re saying with a hum as though he wasn’t expecting that. “That sounds fun,” he agrees.

“Have you ever been?”

He shakes his head no. “I’ve been overseas for the occasional mission but I don’t get to sight-see much anyway.” He shrugs.

“Maybe someday we’ll get a vacation,” you chuckle dryly at the thought, trying to come across less hopeless than the thought really felt, but you don’t succeed.

“You wanna go on vacation with me?” He nudges your side, simpering guilefully.

You subtly roll your eyes, unable to help as the corners of your lips quirk upwards. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” he teases, his fingers curling against your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer to his side.

Comfortable silence settles over the both of you, ice cream finished and basking in one another’s company. Your hands are tangled in your lap, fingers subconsciously running over skin.

Your date catches you off-guard when he reaches up to tilt your chin to him, your heart soaring in your chest as your lips meet in a gentle union, moving ever-so-softly against one another. Satoru’s hand moves up from your chin to cup your face while his fingers squeeze your hand gently. You move against him in tandem, responding eagerly to every maneuver of his lips.

He’s so gentle, savoring the way your tongue swipes against his bottom lip as you deepen the kiss. His fingers flex against your hot cheek, humming into your parted lips in contentment. Your hand finds purchase on his chest, feeling the way his heart thrums fast and hard against his chest.

“So sweet,” he hums between kisses. He could be talking about your taste or your demeanor, you’d truly never know, silencing his compliment with your lips. His tongue dances with yours, his sweet taste intoxicating.

When he slowly pulls back, white lashes fluttering open, you can’t help the way a smile spreads over your features, one that’s mirrored on your handsome date’s face. His thumb brushes your cheek bone tenderly, pressing a kiss to your reddened nose.

He pulls back to look out over the lake at the darkening light as the sun dips under the horizon.

“Why don’t we grab some dinner and head home?”

“Nothing fancy?” You insist, hoping he’ll settle for takeout as the last thing you need is a fancy dinner while covered in cat hair.

“Whatever your heart desires, gorgeous.”

Your blush deepens, if that’s at all possible, as Satoru pulls you to your feet. His hand finds your waist as though he can’t bear to not be in constant contact with you. He walks with a lilt to his step, enjoying the casual pace as he tells you about the curse he fought here a few months back.

When you return to the car, Ijichi opens the door for you both to pile in. Satoru doesn’t let you go, even as you move to put on your seatbelt, his hand remains firmly around your waist, practically gluing you to his side.

As Ijichi starts the car, Gojo points out each and every little bakery and place he’s been, where he’s fought curses, places he thinks you might enjoy. You hadn’t had the opportunity to visit so much of Tokyo that the idea of visiting it with Satoru makes you strangely giddy and you find yourself gripping his thigh tightly as he suggests taking you out next weekend to check out a little botany store he spotted last week.

Of course, you’d never expected him to take so much time to consider the things you might like, let alone to want to share his favorite little bakeries and spots with you. Not when barely a month ago you could barely stand to be in the same room.

How the times had changed.

You stop and grab sushi as takeout, giggling as you attempt to eat it in the car and Satoru ends up adding soya sauce to the car hair that litters his pants. His nose wrinkles in embarrassment as you can’t help but giggle at him, but it’s not like it stops either of you from continuing to eat in the car.

As you pull into the entrance of the school grounds, Ijichi opens the door for you both. Your fingers instinctively tangle with Gojo’s as he begins to lead the way to the cabin, casting a glance at the group of students training at the end of the field.

He pauses, shoving his free hand in his pocket as you both watch them all chatting, able to hear them laughing and joking together. You squeeze his hand gently, smiling proudly at the sight.

“I’m glad they still get to be kids sometimes,” you say softly, giggling as Panda pulls Maki and Yuta together into, quite literally, a bear hug, much to their dismay based on their flailing limbs.

“Makes it all worth it,” the sorcerer beside you agrees, smiling to himself before he turns back to the cabin to lead the way. Unlocking the door, he leads you inside, patting Taro on the head as he dumps his keys on the table.

You fall into habit, letting Taro out and feeding him before returning to Satoru’s side as he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons the top of his shirt, rolling his shoulders. You shrug your cardigan off, hanging it off the back of one of the kitchen chairs and leaving you in just the small black dress.

Satoru hums as he watches your movements, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

“I think I’m a fan of this dress,” he mumbles, his hands finding your hips as he pulls you against him, leaning back against the kitchen table.

He admires the way your cheeks redden, his eyes gaining a darkness you’re growing to recognize that sends a wave of heat through your entire body as you realize how tightly he’s holding you against his toned abs.

You feel the way his chest rises and falls in quick succession against the plush of your breasts as the pads of his fingers press into your hips. He takes you in a moment longer to admire you before leaning down to kiss you.

This isn’t like every other time he’s kissed you. It’s filled with passion, but his lips move against yours fast, needy, damn near desperate. Like he’s been waiting for this moment for a lifetime.

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, satisfied when you gasp, your fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt against his chest. As your tongues dance against one another, you feel the way his body heats up, the fabric of his slacks pulling taut as he grows hard.

His grip on you intensifies as he deepens the kiss, his pace picking up.

Inadvertently, you press yourself more needily against him as heat pools and burns in your core, setting ablaze want, need. He groans into your lips, a sound swallowed between kisses as you grind against his length, looking for friction to ease the pooling tension in your abdomen as you press your thighs together.

“Fuck,” he groans into your lips, “you’re gorgeous, you know that?” His voice is low in a way that’s just so sexy and dangerous.

Your cheeks burn just as hot as the fire between your thighs at his compliment, which you hide behind an intense kiss. Your fingers slide up his undercut to tangle in his hair, pulling a moan from his lips.

He deftly slides his hands down your hips to the plump of your ass. “Jump,” he commands in a husky voice. Your fingers curl at the sound of his lust-filled voice as you obey, wrapping both legs around his toned waist. He hums in satisfaction, gripping the plush of your ass as he effortlessly brings you up the stairs to his bedroom.

It’s distinctly more lived-in than the rest of the cabin had looked upon moving in and clothing sits in piles off to the side, the blankets thrown up to the pillows in a half-assed effort to make the bed. It won’t matter one way or the other when he’s done with you.

He sets you down gently on the bed before crawling over you, the mattress dipping under his weight. Your hands find purchase around his neck again, tangling in his hair.

“You have no idea,” he whispers with lidded eyes, leaning down to return to the kiss, “how crazy you’ve been driving me all day in this little thing.” He tugs at the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. Your gasp is swallowed by his hungry lips as his hands work to spread your thighs for him.

Positioning himself between your legs, he pulls back from your lips to press feverous kisses down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. With each movement he makes, each brush of skin and urgent kiss, he’s mapping your body like it’s his sole mission in life. He wants to memorize each and every little thing that makes you tic, he wants to bring you to your knees in pleasure.

Satoru wants to tear you apart and make you his. He wants to be completely and wholly yours.

“Satoru-” you moan his name so angelically he pauses his movements, pupils blown as he admires you. He lets out a breath as he dips back down to your neck, nipping and sucking as you tug at his hair.

“Shit, I love the way you moan my name, baby.” His lips brush your neck as he continues his movements, growing more and more impatient with his own teasing as he hooks his thumbs under the hem of your dress and hurriedly pulls it up your body.

You shuffle to let him take it off, being carelessly tossed aside, but you couldn’t care less. The only thing that matters is him. The woodsy smell of his cologne, the way his chest rises and falls eagerly, the dark look glinting in his lust-filled eyes.

It’s all so much, yet it’s not enough as slick pools between your thighs. A wanton whine parts your lips as you try to clench your thighs in a desperate action for the friction that Satoru teases.

The sorcerer lowly chuckles, a strong hand finding its grip on your thigh as he pushes it down, squeezing your other thigh as his gaze travels the length of your figure.

“Fucking perfect,” he groans, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. Your attention is drawn to his cock, jumping in his slacks in a desperate plea to be let loose. Satoru grins, palming his erection as you lick your swollen lips at the sight, but his focus is you. Your pleasure.

Sprawling your thighs before him, he positions his face between your legs, running the flat of his tongue over your clothed core, completely soaked for him.

“Fuck, Toru!” You cry, arching your back in an effort to elicit more contact. “Please baby, need more,” your whine is met with a deep chuckle.

“Need more what, sweetheart? Use your words.” You lift your head, crimson eyes filled with need that sets Satoru ablaze.

Your head spins with desire as you don’t hesitate to answer him, the words finding you easily. “I want you, Satoru.”

Your admission is like fuel to him, his long finger hooks the fabric of your black lace panties, pulling them aside as his hot breath fans your dripping core.

“You this soaked all for me, baby?” His tone drips with cockiness that you can’t bring yourself to handle in this moment, running a hand through his hair as you push his head down to your puffy lips in an effort to shut him up.

His chuckle vibrates against your pussy and you arch your back into the friction, gasping when his tongue licks up your slit in one slow, long movement. “Haah, shit Toru,” you moan and gasp all at once, your mouth hanging open at the delicious feeling of his tongue swirling a circle around your clit.

He hums into your pussy, curling his fingers into your thighs almost bruisingly as he savors your taste. You tug on his hair, fingers urging for more, more, as your toes curl at either side of his head. 

Satoru delights in the way you squirm and moan his name from beneath him, his movements quickening as his nose flicks your sensitive bud, shortly followed by his tongue as he sucks on the bundle of nerves, a sharp cry of his name hanging in the air.

As one hand tugs at his hair, your other hand grips at the sheets beneath you. Satoru deftly runs a long finger along your slit, wetting the digit with your juices before sliding it in, savoring the way you stretch around him.

“So tight, darlin’,” he mumbles between broad strokes of his tongue.

“S-Satoru, shit,” your thighs shake beneath his grip as he begins to pump his finger in and out, wasting no time as he slides a second finger in easily. Your loud moans drive him crazy and he reaches down to free his rock-hard erection from his slacks, unable to resist the urge to stroke himself at the sight of you splayed so beautifully over his bed, damn near falling apart on his fingers.

If you look this pretty all fucked-out over his fingers, he can’t wait to see how goddamn gorgeous you look with his cock splitting you apart, your juices drenching him. His mouth waters at the thought of it.

Deviously slowing his movements, you feel the way his lips quirk up into a smile against your pussy at the involuntary buck of your hips, eager for his movements to continue. He curls his long fingers against your gummy walls, his tongue parting from your swollen bundle of nerves as he looks up at the way your head falls back into the mattress, watching your expression as he finds your g-spot.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, followed by a whimper as your arousal coats his fingers, sliding easily down to his wrist. His hungry blue eyes continue to watch your expression as his fingers curl repeatedly into your cunt so perfectly.

“Good girl,” he purrs in a sweet tone, groaning as you pull his hair. With two digits still buried deep in your cunt, pulling out moans and whimpers from your sweet lips, Satoru reaches down to palm his hard cock, breathing coming in ragged pants.

He doesn’t relent the moment he finds your g-spot, your warm walls molding so delectably to his fingers as your sloppy cunt squelches with each thrust, each curl of his long digits. He repeats the movements over and over until it’s all so much that you’re scrambling against him as you fist the sheets and his hair so roughly that he’s letting out a breathy chuckle between languid strokes of his tongue, but not once does the pace of his fingers ever relent.

As your walls pulse around his digits and your moans turn to incoherent babbles of being close, Satoru sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with such precision it has your head spinning. His movements pick up the pace as your thighs shake and begin to close around his head but he doesn’t let up his pace.

Releasing his throbbing cock, he reaches up to hold your hips in place as you jerk against his tongue, the knot in your stomach growing in intensity as your orgasm approaches fast.

“Cum f’r me, baby. Make a mess ‘n my fingers,” he whispers sweetly and oh the things his words do to you. You whimper and squirm as the tightness at the base of your stomach unwinds and the intensity releases.

“S-Satoru-!” You cry out his name like a mantra as you practically see stars from the intensity of your orgasm. He slows his movements, drawing out every last second of your orgasm and drinking in each and every drop of your slick as it drips and pools from your leaky hole.

As you pant above him on the bed, he slowly pulls his fingers from your core. You whine from the stimulation as he leans his cheek sweetly against your thigh with a pussy-drunk grin, your juices covering his chin. “You like that, pretty girl?”

You give him a broken nod as he allows you a moment to come down from your high, licking his fingers and humming in approval at your taste before standing up off the edge of the bed and letting his slacks and boxers drop. He pulls his shirt over his head, broad shoulders and rippling muscles a sight that has your pupils growing in size as your mouth waters at the sight of him.

Satoru is a beautiful human being, sweat beginning to slick his snowy white locks to his forehead and muscles covered in a faint sheen from his exertions. So handsome, and so hopelessly obsessed with you, there’s no use in trying to resist the hopeless attraction you feel for him.

The mattress dips as he crawls back over you, muscular arms at either side of your head as he hovers over you. The taste of your arousal is still fresh on his tongue, sending waves of lust through your body once again.

He ruts his length against your still-clothed cunt, eliciting a whimper at the friction against your clit. Using one hand to hold himself over you, he reaches down to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts from their confinement as he parts from your lips to take your nipple between his teeth, tongue swirling around the hardened skin.

Your nails dig into his bare shoulders and he groans against your skin, the vibration making you gasp in delight before he moves his attention to your left nipple, nipping at the skin and causing you to jump at the sudden feeling. He smirks up at you with darkened eyes when he parts from your breasts, reaching down to stroke his length.

Your eyes follow his movements, your lips parted as your gaze comes to rest on his cock. It’s long, the tip red and angry with lust and need as precum beads at the top. Satoru’s hand deftly thumbs the precum, watching as your pupils blow out further from watching his actions.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He smirks arrogantly. Even during sex, he’s still Satoru.

“You’re such a dick,” you groan breathlessly, moving a hand from his shoulder to drape it over your face. Satoru eagerly removes your hand from your face, guiding you down to his cock.

His mouth hangs open, head falling back as he sits over your hips, moaning as you stroke him painfully slowly. You move your hand down to the base of his cock, watching his reaction with fervour as his chest rises and falls unevenly when your fingers tighten and his hips jerk as you move back up, a breathy moan falling from his lips.

God he looks like heaven kneeling over you with a blissed out expression.

“Toruuuu?”

The teasing lilt to your voice pulls Satoru’s attention down to your face, lidded eyes aglow with intrigue.

When you place your open palm on his chest, he pliantly allows you to flip yourself on top of him. While he does prefer to take charge and have you whimpering at his fingertips, the dark look in your eyes and the way his cock twitches is something he wants to explore as you slide down the bed.

Your eyes lock with Satoru’s eager ones as his tongue swipes out over his lower lip.

His cock leaks for you, twitching as you get closer.

“Needy, Toru?”

“I thought I talked too much,” he groans, fingers tangling in your hair as he urges you down. You lick one long stripe up his cock and his head falls back into the pillow, swallowing hard as pleasure snaps up his spine like lightning.

You loll your tongue out from your mouth, the taste of his precum salty, yet surprisingly sweet on your tongue as his hard cock twitches when he bottoms out in the back of your throat as you suppress a gag.

“Shit, baby y’look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he pants as he locks eyes with you again, mouth watering at the sight of you so pretty with your mouth filled.

You bob your head, setting a slow pace as his hips buck beneath you. He has to resist the urge to thrust his cock into the back of your throat with each time you swirl your tongue around the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Fuck, I-” He stammers over his words, fingers tangling in your hair and tugging as gently as he’s able to be, trying to let you keep control. “Please, don’t stop,” he moans, bucking his hips and guiding your head to pick up the pace as he encourages your movements, which grow more desperate as you press your thighs together in an effort to relieve the aching pressure in your stomach.

With each buck of his hips, Satoru’s movements grow more erratic as you chase his orgasm with your tongue until his breathing picks up and he suddenly pulls you off of his cock, taking control again as he flips himself onto you, grinning at your squeal of surprise.

He hops off the bed and you lick your lips as you watch him ardently open a drawer with little patience as he pulls a condom out and rolls it down his long member.

“Need t’be inside you,” he whispers in your ear as he crawls on top of you, pushing your legs apart as he handles you strangely delicately given the position he easily moves you into, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he lines himself up at your entrance.

His cock bobs and twitches with anticipation as slick from your leaking hole coats him from head to base. With the tip of his length pressed against your folds and your thighs tensing at either side of his broad shoulders, he looks to you, patient as he awaits your signal.

Your hips buck involuntarily as his pretty cock tip brushes your clit. You nod at Satoru breathlessly.

“Use your words, darlin’,” he urges like before, placing a sweet kiss on your nipple that pulls a whimper from you.

“Satoru, fuck me already,” you moan, mouth hanging open as he wastes no time pushing the tip of his cock into your greedy hole. You gasp at the delicious stretch, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you pull him down for a hungry kiss, moaning into his mouth.

“Shit you’re tight,” Satoru groans, jerking within you as he waits for you to adjust to his large size.

Your fingers curl against the blades of his shoulders, nails leaving angry red marks as the stretch of mild pain turns to pure pleasure and you arch your back for him. Slowly, Satoru feeds you his length inch by inch until he bottoms out, his balls hitting the plush of your ass with a dirty smack.

Satoru places one more sweet kiss on your candied, saliva-covered lips before setting a devilishly fast pace, feeling your toes curl in delight on his back. Your cunt clenches around him with each deep thrust as he fucks you so passionately, yet so hungrily, his deep thrusts damn near ruining you.

Your nails run hard down the length of his back and he hisses through his teeth, kissing your thigh from where it’s folded over his shoulder. “Easy, baby.”

“Nnngh, Toru, hah-”

He kisses your other thigh, pulling out to adjust your position. You whine at the lack of contact as he sets your thighs down on the bed, positioning himself in missionary and pushing back in with speed that makes your stomach curl and twist in pleasure.

“Shit, S-Satoru-”

“Hah, love the way you moan my name so pretty.” His lips crash against yours, muffling your pleasured cry when his cock brushes your cervix, your vision blurring as he splits you open.

Your head spins as your abdomen knots and pressure builds steadily, your orgasm steadily approaching.

Satoru nips and sucks at the skin of your neck, his movements growing more and more sloppy as your walls pulse and clench around him and he knows you’re about to fall apart on his cock. He reaches down to rub little cirles onto your clit, mumbling against the skin of your neck, “c’mon baby, give ‘t t’me.” His voice is husky in your ear, shaking in time with your thighs that threaten to close around him.

Satoru erratically throws his weight against your ass, his balls tightening with each thrust as any sense of self-control falls from Satoru’s grasp and he grows mean, bullying his twitching cock into your tight little hole.

“S-Sa’toru-” you murmur, your mouth hanging open so hazily. He juts his hips, thrusting into you with such zeal that your eyes clench shut and you can’t help the way your nails rake his back as he hits your g-spot so headily that you’re squirming, babbles and moans falling from your mouth in pleasure.

“Stop runnin’ from me, baby.” Satoru groans, his hands locking to your waist as he holds you down. You see stars with each thrust until you’re crying out hoarsely as the knot in your stomach suddenly releases and your climax rips through you.

Your thighs shake as Satoru doesn’t relent, his movements growing erratic as he fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own climax. Your walls clench so tightly around him, the slick leaking from your overstimulated cunt dripping down his member until he’s falling apart over you.

“Sh-Shit pretty- ngh!” Satoru’s head falls forward as he holds himself up, his movements slowed to a halt as his cock jumps and twitches in your warm walls that hold him so tightly, his cum spurting into the condom. His breath comes in ragged pants, sweat dripping from the slicked strands of white hair that tickle your chest.

You’re whining as he pulls out slowly, the overstimulation so much, too much until he’s collapsing beside you. His body is sticky with perspiration as he pulls you onto his heaving chest, peppering the most saccharine sweet kisses along your cheek until he can feel you smiling.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

If it’s possible for your cheeks to heat up anymore, they do, reddening along the tips of your ears as you tilt your head to see him.

He’s glowing, a blissful smile spread over his lips as he admires you, such a sweet little thing in his arms.

“You’re kinda sappy, you know that?” You tease as you catch your breath, shifting to rest your chin on his rugged chest. Satoru’s arm fastens over your back.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “but the only person I’m trying to impress looks pretty happy with me right now.” He grins smugly, but those glossy big blue eyes shine with reverence.

You kiss his collar bone in response, laying your head down and basking in the euphoric silence.

No matter how long you spend with Satoru, each first with him still feels funny somehow. You could barely stand to be in the same room for so long and now you can barely stand to be apart.

You can feel the weariness in his bones as he kisses the crown of your head and slides out from under you. He was tired before, but the dark circles beneath his eyes give away just how exhausted he is now. Still, he smiles as he walks to the ensuite to grab a towel and toss out the condom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He hums, taking his time as he delicately runs the towel over your skin, cleaning your arousal from your legs as he so charmingly kisses your thighs.

You return his smile and thank him, opening your arms for him to cuddle into. He grins at the sight of you beckoning him to you and slides the blankets out from under you before playfully lunging under them as you hug him to your warm body.

He lets out a breath as he lays on his back, pulling your naked body snugly against him. You fit against the curves of his built form so perfectly, like puzzle pieces.

Satoru’s breathing begins to row rhythmic very quickly and you nuzzle into his chest, happy that he’s finally getting some rest and that it seems to come to him so easily in your arms. That is, until he surprises you when he blurts something out.

“Be my girlfriend.”

You lift your head off his chest to look at him, his pleading tone taking you by surprise. He cracks his eyes open, mirth swirling in the depths of his gaze, along with a glimmer of hopefulness.

He knows you could break him with one word, and that fear reflects in his tight-lipped expression.

He can see your fear, too, you’re sure of it. You can’t ignore the constant nag in the back of your head reminding you that everyone you’ve ever loved you’ve lost. The sting of wounds not yet healed, too recent to ignore.

Wounds that make you doubt if you’re doing the right thing. If by sleeping with Satoru you’re dooming him to that same fate. If by caring for Satoru, you’re dooming him to a fate even worse, if that’s at all possible.

“We’ve only been on one date-” you cut yourself off, it’s a meager excuse, a poor reflection of your fear.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he reassures you, seeing through the cracks of your hesitation. “I know you’ll keep me safe too.”

Your mouth opens and closes once, twice, doubt flickering in your features not because you don’t want this, but because it’s hard to ignore the past.

“Besides, we did everything else out of order anyway,” his voice carries a teasing lilt now as he answers your hesitant statement at surface-level. “We lived together before we were even friends, sex before we were dating, we’re all over the place.” He grins, poking the tip of your nose and you’re unable to help a giggle from passing through your lips at his nonchalance.

“I guess we did, didn’t we?” You let out a breath, resting your chin back on Satoru’s chest as you return his gleeful expression.

You can’t keep holding yourself back out of fear. You need to trust those around you. That much you know.

With a deep breath, you readjust yourself, crimson eyes ripe with adoration as you let go of your inhibitions.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Toru.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || it's finally here!! was literally kickin my feet writing the cute lil date ♡ this has been swimming in my head for so long it's been so much fun to write but it does take me forever to write smut, it's definitely my least confident area which is admittedly why this chapter took so long but! i'm happy with how it turned out c: i also have a couple of drabbles that came out this past week if you want to check those out, and a modern!sukuna oneshot coming soon that i'm super happy with so keep an eye out for that as well!

[sassybluebird]

shame on me || chapter ten || moving on

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 6k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

The smell of lavender wafts in the air as blossoms dance in the cool breeze at your feet. Clouds cover the sun and threaten rain, although the forecast didn’t call for it, so you had decided to water your plants regardless. 

Off to the side, Gojo lays in the grass, the top button of his uniform unbuttoned with a white T-shirt visible beneath, his blindfold laying at his shoulders. His arm is draped over his eyes in place of the fabric, only moving when Taro returns the ball he’d been throwing.

Your lesson with Itadori had been cut short when a mission had called for him and Kusakabe. In reality, you knew Kusakabe simply didn’t want to partake in the mission and had called for Yuji, but regardless it would help your student learn. Besides, Kusakabe was responsible one way or the other.

Taro barrels past both you and Satoru in a flurry, dropping his ball at Gojo’s side before taking a wide turn to chase after the ball again. Following his movement past you, your gaze travels to the cabin that had been your home so long.

You’re sure the entire place is covered in a layer of dust, a thought that leaves a pang in your stomach and you wince at the realization. For a while now, you’d been wanting to grab some of the dresses left behind in the cabin given that your arrangement with Gojo seemed at least somewhat permanent, but no matter how often the thought arose, you always convinced yourself otherwise.

“You’re gonna drown your Carnations.” Satoru sits upright, leaning back on his outstretched arm with his hand splayed in the grass. Strands of snow-white hair sway in the gentle breeze as he twists to look at the flowers at your feet.

You turn your attention to the watering can in your hand, blinking and tipping it back as you realize he’s right, you’ve been watering them the whole time you were lost in thought. It certainly wouldn’t help the flowers in any way but you supposed at least it wouldn’t kill them. Sighing, you run a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Pretty?”

Your heart does a backflip that you choose to push aside as you set the watering can at your feet. Satoru’s intense stare is set on you as he watches you grimace and take a step back away from the garden.

“Would you mind doing me a favor?”

“Need some muscle?” He asks with a cocky grin, not missing a beat.

“No, Satoru,” you roll your eyes at his suggestion, shooting a glance at your old cabin. “I just wanna grab a few things from my cabin, I was hoping you could keep me company.”

“‘Course.”

You almost hate how quickly he agrees and hops to his feet without a second thought or a moment’s hesitation. You’re certain you could ask for the moon and he would move mountains to bring it to you. It’s an uneasy thought that you’re not only growing accustomed to his presence, but more than ever you’d begun to seek his presence.

He’d become your rock. It was hard to deny it anymore. He didn’t dare leave your side and even Yaga had agreed it was the best course of action to keep him near you if it meant preventing another incident.

Still, you wondered if the reason he was always nearby was truly out of a duty to keep you and Yuji safe, or if he just wanted to be with you in truth. In reality, it was most likely the latter.

Even Miriko had grown accustomed to him. Every once in a while Satoru would wake up to Miriko sitting enjoying a coffee and he didn’t seem to think twice about it, not minding her presence either.

They’d even had a strange heart to heart where Satoru had apologized. Her admission that she didn’t mind him had felt more like a parent’s approval of a boy you brought him, though the parent and the relationship lacked from the situation. Either way, it made you want to bury your face in a pillow in embarrassment, despite being stuck in her innate domain. The best you could find was a ripped and rugged sail.

Looking at the big picture though, things had become easy with him. It was easy to slip into conversation with him, easy to sit with him on the couch as he explained his favorite reality show, easy to talk about the cheesy romance book you were reading. It all felt natural.

Satoru hops to his feet, grabbing the cabin key for you since he’d taken it a while ago in order to gather some of your belongings. When he returns, his tall stature towers over you at the base of the stairs to your old cabin, invading your personal space as he always does with a grin and the key dangling from his forefinger.

You reach up to take it, shooting him a disgruntled glare as he holds it juuuust out of reach.

“Nuh uh, whaddya say?”

“Thank you for bringing me the key you stole?”

His smile falters, brow scrunching in mock frustration. “Well when you put it like that it doesn’t sound as good,” he grumbles playfully, his hand falling just low enough for you to jump and pull the key away from him.

You playfully shove his chest and hop up the stairs to the door.

The sight of the inside of the cabin catches you oddly off-guard and you pause in the door. Satoru collides with you, bringing both hands up to rest on either of your upper arms and hold you both upright. He mumbles a ‘sorry’, letting you take in the sight before you.

The cabin is, indeed, covered in a layer of dust. The overcast sun of the afternoon filtering through the window casts enough light to see the dust that hangs in the air, all signs of life dissipated from the cabin. Unwashed mugs still sit in the sink, a blanket is casually laying over the back of the couch, a fork and plate sit on the table, and some of Taro’s toys still litter the floor.

Satoru’s thumbs rub soothing circles on both of your arms as he takes a step forward with you, his warmth remaining a close and comforting presence. Swallowing your nerves, you let out a breath and lead the way upstairs to the bedroom where your clothes are.

The sheets are still thrown aside as if someone had just woken up and photo frames still line the walls. A small photo frame holding a photo of you and your dad, as well as one of Taro sopping wet from diving headfirst into the ocean hang neatly on the wall. Kento’s charge cable lays expectantly on the bedside table alongside an old tie, twisting into your gut like a knife.

But you don’t cry. For the first time, you take a deep breath and soldier your way into the room, opening the closet and sifting through for the summer clothing you’re looking for. Satoru holds his hands out expectantly, letting you throw anything you want to bring into his arms. Your hands pause on a perfectly pleated tan suit, pulling your lower lip between your teeth at the sight.

But still you don’t let yourself cry.

A reassuring hand squeezes your arm and reminds you that you have support. You’re not alone anymore.

So you turn to Satoru and nod to him to lead the way back out the door, stopping to grab the photo frames of your dad and Taro on the way out.

“Thanks, Satoru.” You lock the door behind you, swallowing an uncomfortable bile that had risen in your throat as you lock away a part of your past. Securely in the past, but never forgotten, never really gone. Always in your heart, even if you are trying to make room for new memories. New people.

Gojo shoots you a handsome smile, those cheerful blue eyes flickering shut for a moment as the corners of his eyes wrinkle. 

“Is that your dad?” He asks curiously, peering at the photo frame in your arms. It pulls you from thoughts threatening to spiral and you hold the photo out to him, nodding.

You’re considerably younger in the photo, wearing a jersey from your dad’s favorite team at a game. It’s before you ever met Miriko, when times were simpler.

“The one and only,” you confirm.

“He was nice when I talked to him,” he mentions, catching you off-guard as you remember that Satoru had at some point answered your phone when your dad’s calls became more and more frantic.

“Oh right, how did that go?” You ask curiously.

“He was pretty worried obviously, but he said he was happy someone was taking care of you. He seemed nice.”

“Awh, that’s-”

“At least, after he yelled at me.”

You pause, blinking at Gojo. “He what?”

He shrugs with an immature tilted smile, as though being yelled at by your father had had somewhat of an effect on him. “I took responsibility for what happened. He wasn’t happy about that but who can blame ‘im?”

You smile sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” you chuckle sheepishly.

“Nah, he was just worried.” He shrugs it off easily, following you into the cabin and to the guest room. Your room. He hands you the dresses in his arms one by one, commenting on each and every one about how pretty they are despite your obvious dismissal of his comments.

As he hands you a small black dress, his lips quirk upwards. “You should wear this one.”

“Not happening,” you mumble shyly, trying hard to ignore the heat in your cheeks as you choose not to humor him.

“You’d look stunning,” he grins with lidded eyes as he leans into your personal space. You’re accustomed to this too of course, but still your breath hitches in your throat at his close proximity. “Not that you don’t look stunning already,” he corrects suddenly, blue eyes widening with a moment of boyish innocence.

Though he liked to be a flirt and be a menace, sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn’t as sly as he thought he was. You smirk at him, unable to deny that it was in those little moments where his confident facade broke for a more sweet one that you were charmed by him.

“Cute,” you mumble, returning to hanging the last of the dresses in your arms. Gojo’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree as he grins at you, hanging the last dress for you once you had freed him of his dress holding duty.

“I know I said it already but…” you pause, looking up at the tall sorcerer. It’s not often you get to see those gorgeous blue eyes in full, not covered by either fabric or glasses, but you’re glad you get to see them as he stares happily down at you. It’s such a stark contrast from the way he cautiously regarded you for so long and it’s so refreshing to see him so filled with hope and… affection. Like the carnation he had left for you. “Thank you, Satoru. Really.”

It feels natural, when you choose to wrap your arms around his middle. He seems surprised for a moment, his body shifting to look down at your small form wrapped tightly around his frame, but it only takes a second for him to tightly wrap his around you in return.

When Satoru hugs you, it feels like he expects the world to end. Like if this is his final moment with you, he’s going to savor it. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, fingers gripping at your bare shoulders for purchase. His warm breath fans over your head as he buries his face into your hair, the feeling of his light, nearly unnoticeable stubble lightly tickling your scalp.

His hand slides up your arm, holding your head tightly into his chest. His heart beats hard against his chest, giving away the nerves that he didn’t often let show. It’s easy to forget that Satoru can be vulnerable too.

He doesn’t let you pull away, like his life depends on holding you. Like this moment is everything to him. Because it is. His heart pounding in your ear is all the proof you need, and it sends yours spiraling as well.

“Satoru?” You try to glance up at him by tilting your head to the side, but all you can make out is his shoulder and the mop of white hair.

He gives you one last tight squeeze before hesitantly letting you go, eyes still shining brightly, though this time he looks strangely relaxed.

Shooting him a lopsided smile, you continue. “I thought that would be a lot harder, honestly. With you there, it wasn’t so bad.”

If that boy had a tail to wag, it would be swinging. He grins so widely you almost don’t recognize him. Shoko’s comment about him looking like a puppy around you is beginning to make more and more sense the more you truly notice this side of him. It’s refreshing to see him be genuine and vulnerable with you.

“I’ll always be here for you, Pretty.” And god, his voice is so genuine, you almost want to-

If I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re falling for Six Eyes, of all people.

Your eyes widen suddenly at Miriko’s comment and in a rush to disprove her, or maybe convince yourself it isn’t true, your hands settle on his chest and you all but shove him out of the room, surprising you both.

“Sorry, um, thank you!” You tell him in a rush that has him clearly confused as he stands outside the door, unable to do anything but watch as you shut the door in his face.

“Did I-?”

You open the door again, a tinge of guilt heating up your cheeks at the sudden action.

“Just gonna change, it’s fine!” You insist, words spilling over your lips as you close and lock the door again, staring at the handle and leaving him shocked and confused.

Sliding your back down the door and sitting with your hands covering your face, you all but groan as Miriko laughs in your mind. If even Miriko’s getting a rise out of this, you know you’re in deeper than you thought.

My, I would almost think I hit the nail on the head, did I not?

Shut. Up.

–

Saturday mornings had become your favorites. You would sleep in until the sound of dawn cicadas and birdsong awoke you and without fail, the smell of bacon would follow soon after. Satoru would make you breakfast- he’d even perfected your eggs- and you would make him coffee, exactly to his taste with a few too many scoops of sugar.

He loved those mornings just as much as you did and he was sure to tell you that, chatting with you throughout the mornings as you took to listening to stories. Stories about missions, about his students, once in a while he might even open up about Suguru. Those fleeting moments of vulnerability further endeared you to him, little to his knowledge.

It was cozy.

This morning, the scent of fresh bacon and light sizzling from outside your room is missing and you frown. Your eyes flicker open and you rub the remnants of sleep from your eyes with a slow yawn. 

You don’t bother to change out of the oversized shirt you’d worn to bed, throwing on shorts before peeking out of the room and searching for Satoru. The kitchen is empty and there’s no sign of him in the house, either. Closing your eyes, you don’t even sense his cursed energy nearby.

You know he’s likely out on a mission or something of the sort, but you can’t help the way your chest flutters as you hope that he’s okay. Especially given that he’d insisted on not taking missions since Kenjaku’s appearance.

Going to grab your phone, you shoot him a text. The first one you’ve ever sent that isn’t in regards to business or groceries.

10:04 AM || You: hey, everything alright?

After hitting backspace an indescribable amount of times, you hit send and decide you’ll make your own breakfast. Throwing together bacon, eggs, and toast, you make yourself and Satoru a plate.

Surely he’ll be back in time for some food, after all. 

As lunch arrives with an untouched plate of bacon and eggs still sitting on the table, your worry grows tenfold. Grimacing, you open your phone and to the text that stares back at you mockingly. Surely he isn’t upset with you over shoving him out of the room yesterday, right?

No, he doesn’t hold a grudge like that. Not over something so inconsequential. That’s not Gojo.

Your thumbs move to type again, hitting send before you have the chance to meander over the specifics of the message.

1:31 PM || You: satoru? please let me know if you’re alright

With a forlorn sigh, you set your phone down and open your book back up, trying to focus on the words. Try as you may, focus eludes you as you re-read a paragraph for the dozenth time. With a finger to your temple in exasperation, you toss the book in front of you, staring at the clock. Two in the afternoon and not a word from Satoru?

Picking up your phone again, you dial his number, but it doesn’t even ring. Is his phone dead? You have half a mind to go looking for him, but then again he is an adult. He can take care of himself.

As the afternoon sun moves gradually to set, warm rays of light drifting across the surface of the coffee table before you, you wonder if it’s worth it to make him a plate for dinner. He had to be home for dinner, right?

4:32 PM || You: i’m making dinner, i’ll leave a plate for you

You pause, hesitating over the send button as you send one last message.

4:34 PM || You: please be okay.

Homemade Yakisoba in-hand, you struggle to eat your meal as worry twists your stomach. It eats every last ounce of hunger until you’re just about ready to grab Yuta and Yuji and find him yourself.

Of course, that’s when the front door lock clicks and you suddenly sense him. His overwhelming cursed energy and that bubbly presence, as he kicks the door open with a slam. You jump, eyes wide at the bags in his arms.

“You would not believe the amount of trouble I went through today-”

“Where have you been?”

“Hm?” Satoru pauses, setting both bags on the kitchen table as he spins to face you. “I was grabbing some things.”

“I texted you.”

“You did?”

“A few times.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket, fiddling with the side button and realizing sure enough, his phone is dead. He shrugs it off, turning back to his bags excitedly as he continues his ramblings about how ‘he looked everywhere’ and ‘it was so hard to find’, though he doesn’t specify what he’s going on about, nor is that where your focus is as you practically look over him for signs of wounds or wear.

“I was worried about you.” You interrupt him suddenly, standing in front of the couch still as you stare at him in the kitchen. His brow knits in confusion beneath the fabric of his blindfold as he turns to face you again.

His shoulders fall back to a relaxed position as he sees the concern etched into your features and in two long strides he’s standing before you, leaning down just a bit to be at eye level. “‘M sorry,” he apologizes genuinely. “I shoulda charged my phone.”

“No kidding,” you grumble, though in truth you’d already forgiven him. Pulling an apology from him is about as easy as pulling teeth so to receive one so easily, it’s hard to stay mad. He cheekily reaches down to grab your hand, gauging your reaction as he brings it up to his lips, leaving a charming peck on your knuckles.

“Forgive me, Sweetheart?”

As though he didn’t just light your entire body on fire with one action, one name, you nod shyly, losing any and all words.

“Good, now come see what I got,” he tells you excitedly, looping his fingers with yours as he tugs you along to the kitchen table where one small plastic bag and a larger paper bag reside.

The paper bag has a very familiar logo on it and you don’t need to look inside to know Satoru’s grabbed Kikufuku. The plastic bag, on the other hand, is small and nondescript.

“I didn’t think I’d be gone so long but I couldn’t find it anywhere,” he insists, pulling something out of the bag and spinning towards you with it behind his back before you have a chance to see what it is.

Tilting your head curiously, you attempt to peek around him, but he blocks your vision.

“Would you believe that this shit is rare now? I actually had to leave town and go to some little store in the middle of nowhere to find it, and after-”

“What is it?” You interrupt his ramblings.

He grins, presenting to you none other than Digimon Rumble Arena 2 on GameCube. Unable to help it, you giggle, which easily turns into a full-blown laugh.

What a lovesick idiot.

“You asshole, I spent all day thinking you were hurt or missing or worse and you were just- just looking for Digimon?” You giggle gleefully as you shove his chest. He grins down at you, insisting that you hold the copy of the game.

As soon as the copy is in your hands, he sheds his jacket and hops over the couch, legs spread as he lounges comfortably on the side you’d come to know as his.

“C’mon, this asshole wants to play Digimon. And he already apologized,” he derides with a sly smile, enunciating his words in jest.

“Hold on, hold on,” you insist, grabbing the extra plate of Yakisoba that you’d made, as well as your own that you’d barely touched. He thanks you, happily eating as you open the cabinet beneath the TV, pulling out an Indigo Gamecube and plugging in a matching controller and an orange one.

You hand him the orange one, player two of course, and join him on the couch.

The game comes back to you naturally and much to Satoru’s dismay, you destroy him. Every. Single. Round. Still, he’s trying his best.

“I swear I���m good at games,” he insists.

“You chose the wrong one if you were trying to impress me,” you tease as your Gabumon digivolves and knocks his Flamedramon flat on the ground.

His head hangs back as he lets out an exasperated groan at his fourth loss in a row. First, he’d insisted he was just rusty, then the stage was the problem, then the Digimon. He was running out of excuses.

“I almost had you that time!”

“Sure,” you shrug, holding in a laugh.

“No, seriously! You were so low!”

“Mhmm.”

“One more, this time I’ll win,” he insists, sitting upright as he leans forward and removes his blindfold.

“I don’t think your Six Eyes is gonna help you.”

“You don’t know.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as you hit the rematch button and it drops you back into an arena, but not only is Satoru serious about winning this time, he’s equally serious about cheating to win.

As soon as you knock him down the first time, he prods your side.

“Cheater!” You cry out in shock as he manages to land a hit on your Gabumon. You shoot him a disgruntled look and nudge his knee. He snickers happily as he continues to fight dirty, taking any opportunity to poke and prod your thighs and sides playfully.

Still, it’s not enough for him to win.

“Looks like you’re still the loser-”

Pushing off the couch before you have time to finish your sentence, Satoru leaps on top of you, using his strong arms to pin you down against the soft cushions as he moves his fingers along your sides, tickling you without relent.

“No!” You cry out, unable to help laughing as you squirm and push against him.

“Take it back! I’m not a loser!” He insists, not letting up.

“No! You cheated!” You gasp through ragged laughs as you try to grab his wrists and push him back, but his grasp on you is too strong.

“Say it! Say it and I’ll stop!” He teases with a devilish grin.

“Please!” You beg, not letting up as you playfully struggle against him. “Toru!”

That stops him dead in his tracks as those wondrous blue eyes lock onto your red ones that flutter open behind long lashes. He purses his lips, his white hair hanging down and just barely tickling your forehead from his close proximity.

With his knees and arms on either side of you, you’re in a painfully compromising position that sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, lighting your entire body on fire at the realization.

“You’ve never called me that before,” his voice is strangely husky, and you swallow as heat pools at the base of your stomach.

“Do you not like it?” You breathe, settling your hands on his biceps. You run your fingers mindlessly over the muscles, biting your lip as your eyes stray to his toned arms before flickering back to his intense gaze.

“I like it,” he says quietly, his breaths coming short and fast as his eyes follow your movements. He swallows hard, watching the way you bite your lip. A muscle in his jaw spasms as he hovers over you, the intensity shared between you both immense.

It’s as though time has stopped and only you both exist in this moment. Through all your doubts, all the time he’s been patient with you and given you the time and space you needed, you couldn’t deny the pull he had on you any longer.

Still, even as the world stands still for you both, as the evening cicadas hold their breath and the last remnants of the setting sun illuminate his long white lashes in the most beautiful and brilliant way, he waits for you. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t make the move that he so desires, betrayed by his immense pupils.

The ball was in your court.

Nothing but adoration and anticipation glimmering in his features.

Adoration shown in the way he spent all day looking for a particular gift for you, just to see you smile even if only for a moment because he craved your smile like a drug, like an addiction.

Adoration in the way he teases you because he loves the way you can match his backtalk.

Anticipation that makes your toes curl as his sharp and handsome features stare back at you with an equal anticipation.

“Kiss me, Toru,” you whisper, letting go of all of your doubts and inhibitions, of everything holding you back. Giving in to him finally.

“Thought you’d never ask, pretty girl,” he breathes, moving down to his elbows as his lips softly meet yours. His touch grazes the side of your face as you fasten your grip on his biceps, feeling them flex beneath the pads of your fingers.

In contrast to the feverous anticipation in his eyes, his lips move slowly against yours, soft and sweet. The candied taste of his tongue ignites and sparks an eagerness in your chest and you slide your hands up his arms, cradling his cheeks as you bring him closer in an effort to quell the blooming heat in your chest.

Satoru takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping along the bottom of your lip for permission. You part your lips, your tongues fighting for purchase as he puts every ounce of passion into the moment.

When you part to take a breath, both of your chests heaving, his eyes slowly flicker open to meet yours. They may as well be glowing in the way he regards you with such care and ardor.

You can’t help but smile, giggle even, both because his snowy locks are tickling your forehead, and because it feels good to be cared for by him, and it feels good to care for him. You’d both been doing it for so long at this point that it almost felt foolish how long you’d held back.

“D’you still think I’m a loser?” He teases breathlessly.

“Shut up,” you groan, pulling him back to you. One of his arms moves from its position holding him above you as he glides his fingers down your side until they find purchase at your waist. He kisses you so tenderly, so delicate like the flower he’d been taking care of to the best of his ability still sitting beautifully atop the kitchen table.

When he pulls back, he’s got a wide grin and expectant eyes.

“Let me take you out.”

“Shouldn’t we stay near Yuji to keep an eye on Sukuna?”

“One day won’t hurt him. Let me take you out tomorrow.”

You chew on your lip in thought, threatening to get lost in the galaxies that are his eyes. They flicker to the movement of your lip as it slips between your teeth, his pupils dilating at the sight.

“What did you have in mind Mr. Gojo?” You prod, watching the way his eyes darken without fail at the name you used for him, practically melting against you like honey. He shuffles his hips in an effort to get more comfortable as his cock twitches in his slacks, a movement he knows you can feel and he knows you’re goading on.

He’s trying to be more romantic than that, though.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He purrs into your ear, peppering kisses from just below your earlobe down your jaw, before returning to your lips. In spite of the hunger growing between both of you, the kiss is honey sweet, and he lets out a relaxed sigh that you swallow between your lips.

“Nothing-” you pause as a peck from the tall man interrupts your statement, “-too fancy, okay?”

He nods solemnly, a note of earnestness in his features as if taking your words to heart. “Promise.”

“And nothing too busy, I don’t like crowds.”

“I know, Sweets.”

“Oh, and nothing claustrophobic, makes me nervous with Miriko.”

He says your name in a chiding tone that tells you that he knows that already. Regardless, you smile calmly at him.

He leans in for one last peck before sitting up and adjusting his slacks in an effort to make his very obvious boner less uncomfortable. His kiss-swollen lips smile happily at you as he drapes his arm over the back of the couch behind your shoulders with a calm breath out from his nose.

“I think you might be the better Digimon.”

“I have the power of Gabumon,” you tell him as you flatten your hair from the way it’s knotted and sticking out after laying under him.

“To think that you called me a nerd,” he comically rolls his eyes as you give his chest a light shove. He kisses your temple oh so softly.

The words to tease him back die on your tongue as you admire his profile, his sharp features trained on the looping character select screen. He looks tired, as he always does though he hides it well, but peace settles comfortably over not just his facial features, but his muscles.

You smile at the sight, wondering what weight he carries with him that he chooses not to confide in anyone, what it truly means to be the strongest.

After all, you’ve seen the way he’s treated by others. You’ve seen the way that not only he, but Yuji and Yuta as well, are expected to act by the higher-ups and even Yaga. You’ve seen the way he’s treated as inhuman at times by others.

Hell, you’d seen the way he’d acted inhuman. Not even just in battle, but the way he would stand stoic and take your verbal berating without a single reaction and not bat an eye at the interaction, simply because that was how he was meant to act. It was almost as though it was a trained reaction.

He had trained himself to be what he was expected to be.

It was sad, really. To think that the goofy, caring, and even charming individual who sat with his eyes closed in bliss to your side had had everything taken from him on account of being the strongest.

And just like that, everything clicks. As if you’re seeing Satoru, really seeing Satoru, for the first time. Everything he’d acted on that had led you here, to this moment, all makes sense.

Would he have been so aggressive upon first meeting you if he hadn’t been told to act in such a way? If he hadn’t, would you be here, now, sitting at his side?

Leaning into him, you watch his peaceful expression quirk into a smile as he pulls you into his chest, enveloping you into a hug. You hum contentedly, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his shoulder.

The soft light of the sun has long faded, leaving you both basking in one another’s presence. The interruption of the looping song on the TV has long been tuned out as your hearts seem to beat in sync. Slowly but surely, it seems he’s filling holes in your heart and healing wounds on his own accord.

You could have cuddled that way for five minutes or five hours, you wouldn’t have any way of knowing, time a concern of the past. As Satoru’s breathing steadies, the rise and fall of his chest growing rhythmic, you giggle to yourself and give him a small shake.

“Toru, you should get some rest.”

“I am,” he retorts cheekily, not bothering to open his eyes.

“You better not fall asleep on our date tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” he insists, “but let me have this for one more moment.”

Your chest flutters at his insistence to keep you in his arms as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

One moment really is never just one moment with him, though.

When his breathing grows rhythmic again and small snores part his lips, you giggle and move from his side without disturbing him. You move around the kitchen and living room, cleaning up from your afternoon of games and fooling around.

You lift the case for the Digimon game, your thumb smoothing over the front cover.

What a wonder, to think that Satoru Gojo had spent all day looking for this for you. You couldn’t even be upset about his lack of communication when it was clear that in his foolish mission to find the game, it had simply slipped his mind.

To think that this was the same man who you’d struggled to get along with for so long, who seemed to oppose you at every turn, and now you were practically fawning over him. You smile to yourself with a shake of your head. How the times had changed over the past two months.

Satoru shuffles, cerulean irises focusing on you as he realizes you’ve left his arms. An easy smile spreads over his drowsy features.

“Ready to get some rest now?” You ask him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushes himself to his feet, offering you his hand as he pulls you up off the floor from where you’d been putting the Gamecube away. Effortlessly pulling you up to him, he squeezes your hand and leads you to your door.

"G’night, sweet girl,” Satoru all but slurs languidly as he tries not to yawn.

“Goodnight, Satoru.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || a bit of a shorter chapter since the next one will be the big date but when I tried to put them all into one it was a bit of a mega chapter so i hope everyone enjoyed this sweet little moment with toru ♡