#do you dream of escaping the grind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eraserbread · 14 days ago

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go as a dream ft. ex-husband satoru gojo ✧

୨୧ - ten years together, five years married -- it's a long time. too long to be running on borrowed time glued together by the past. leaving is easy, but staying away turns out to be impossible. → afab!reader, modern/no curses!au, slow-burn, long-established relationship, mutual pining, heavy angst, toxic relationship dynamics, mention of pregnancy/failure to conceive, relationship insecurity, emotional sex, oral f!receiving, spanking/slapping, cum eating, mentions of readers relative hair length, mentions of readers family, nsfw → w.c. - 15.3k {1 hour reading time}

a/n: when an idea sticks for me, i head to my graveyard of wips to expand on it. most end up dying, but for some reason the love you guys held for this version of satoru made it stick. make him meaner... then more loving... then spin the narrative - pin it back on him -- all of those thoughts ran my psyche during the month (?) it took me to flush this idea out. happy 3k, my angels <3 i crafted this for you with so much love, sweat and tears. sit with this one for while. let it sink in. part two may come if you guys will it to. with so much of my love, - elly

listen to the soundtrack <3

Your heart is racing, gloss dripping sensually from your lips. Satoru is under you, his familiar face laced with overwhelming stoicism. He’s biting over soft, pink lips, his eyes wide open as he watches you ride him like you never have before.

You’re sad – on the verge of tears, but he doesn’t notice. He just parts his lips, content with the headiness of the pleasure you’re working yourself up to give him. Usually, he’d be telling you how beautiful you looked, how well you’re taking him, but he’s silent. It’s a deadly combination – you sad, Toru silent.

You just want to disappear.

“That’s it, babe. So close… keep going.” It’s like the one sentence of praise needs to be sucked from his very lifeform, because he’s chewing on his words, throwing them at you all mangled and sloppy. There’s no care anymore; gentleness is lost as he grabs your hips and slams them back down on his length.

You’re reeling, so close, yet so far from any kind of release your body’s begging for. You need Satoru to give you something – to touch and tell you he loves you so gently, but there’s nothing. Fucking nothing. Just grinding bodies lost in the tangle of bedsheets.

His eyes snap closed, head tilted back as he bares his neck for you. Two years prior, you would’ve gone in, marking every inch of that luminescent skin with love bites. Now, you watch your nimble fingers spread across the soft, veined expanse, fingers concentrating at his Adam’s apple. You squeeze, he breathes out a moan.

“Ahh – come on, comeoncomeon.”

“Cum for me… please.” You’re trying your best to come off genuine, to dip your tone into a needier drawl he doesn’t see much anymore, just for it all to be over sooner. Right now, you’re just fulfilling your bodily duties as Satoru Gojo’s wife. He did just buy you a Cartier bracelet, giving you apologies with wide, blue puppy eyes. As fucked up as it sounds, the least you can do is get him off before he goes to sleep.

“Mm, say my name, baby. Gonna fill you up, give you so many babies.”

You’re nodding, letting him spill his orgasm thoughts into your lap. You know him far too well, can read his breeding kink inside out. What Satoru doesn’t know is that you went on birth control the second you started drifting apart. There would be no loose ends; you’ve been planning your escape for months.

So you let him come inside of you, calling him baby and telling him lies about how turned on you are. Satoru knows you too well that he’d notice a fake orgasm, so you don’t even try. You just let him have his moment, kissing up your arm with ruffled, white hair, pumping shot after shot deep inside of you like he’s on a mission.

And when he’s drained and limp, you’re climbing off of him, not even offering a word as you head straight to the bathroom.

You and Satoru thought you had it all figured out pretty early. He graduated from university prematurely and got an immediate position doing what he loved – teaching psychophysics as a Professor's Aide. It’s where he met you, not his student, but definitely a co-worker he shouldn’t have approached, because you fell hard. Head over heels, mind over body – you made him your life.

That lifeline only had about five good years once you got married, and now you two are overworked strangers bumping shoulder to shoulder on a shared lease. Though you’ve mourned the relationship that shaped you into the woman you are now, you don’t have any regrets. There’s no hatred for Toru in your heart – quite the opposite. You love him to pieces, but can’t give him what he needs at the cost of you. It’s just not worth it anymore. You feel like an object manufactured to please.

So you chase your solace against the hot spray of the shower, letting it drown out your thoughts as water-mixed come seeps down your thighs.

Now that you’re alone, you can cry. So, you do – for the unborn children you promised you’d give him, for the life and love you manufactured with your bare hands. He didn’t know that you’d be packing your bags and escaping tomorrow. It’s hard for you even to swallow, though you’ve been planning this day for months. Sweet freedom… only hours away.

Why is it, though you’ve wished so hard and lived in daydreams, that you’re afraid? You don’t want to be alone in any form of the word, but you couldn’t stay here. It’d kill you long before you hit your grey years.

Your sweet, smiling Toru with that permanent sparkle in his eye would kill you.

“Suguru and Shoko want to grab dinner tonight after work.”

Toru’s voice is slow and controlled as he steps into the bathroom, naked as the day he was born. His silhouette moves intently in front of the glass shower door, stopping at your soaking wet shadow. He hears it, the sniffle amongst the spray – the way you’re hunched in on yourself, curled in the corner of the spacious area. “Are you crying?”

You scoff, shaking your head as you wipe water from your eyes. “Fucking ignore it.”

“Hey.” He steps forward, pulling the shower door open. Just like he thought, you’re posed like a wet puppy, legs crossed to keep your decency, and arms over your chest in the farthest corner. “Crying after sex is not your style.”

“Just… weird post-nut hormones.” You’re shrugging him off with a distant look in your eyes. More recently, everything turns into pointless bickering, so you feed him lies to keep him agreeable.

But, Satoru’s looking at you like he knows you’re a liar, light eyebrows all screwed up. “But, you didn’t even cum-

“Close the door, Satoru.” You’re grimacing, stepping forward to yank the door closed in his face. “What do you want? What about Suguru?”

“Suguru and Shoko invited us to dinner tonight…” He’s speaking slowly, like he’s trying to gain his bearings. It’s not really an argument, but Toru feels the rush of one in the steamy air. It wouldn’t be the first time this post-sex daze made you two hot-headed. “I was going to say, it’d be good to all be together again, but you’re acting weird… They don’t need to be around that right now.”

You scoff, forehead falling into your open palm. The water burns you from within, but you stand under it like you want to be scalded. “Did you follow me in here just to fuck with me? Huh!? You see me trying to get away from yo-

Then, when the seal breaks and you’re yelling, that’s when Toru starts – deep voice banging off the tile walls. “You’re a livewire! You sat there and let me fuck you, now you’re acting like I’m the biggest inconvenience to ever cross your path!”

“Get out! For once in your life, just leave me alone!”

He really should listen to you – let you have the upper hand because he knows you’re sensitive, but Toru just shakes his head. “A man can’t even take a piss in the bathroom he pays for.” He adds, stepping away from your vengeful, blurred reflection. The toilet is just over from you – he can’t see the shower, you can’t see him.

For those few moments, you’re holding your breath. The shower drowns out the sound of him relieving himself, but you can guess well enough what he’s doing. When you’re married, intimate moments like this go unsaid – even on the brink of divorce. And when he’s done, he’s lumbering back over to the shower, long arms limp as they reach to pull it open again. You roll your eyes.

This time, your back is turned to him, water beading at your shoulder and trailing down the curves in your back sensually. His crystalline eyes catch it, and he parts his lips. “Mind if I join you?”

You don’t answer him, deciding it’s enough just to regard him briefly with a downcast look over the shoulder. You’re still covering your chest with crossed arms, mainly because you’re cold. Toru keeps opening and closing the door like a nuisance. Now, he’s climbing under the spray with you, big hands holding your familiar shoulders. He leans down to kiss your left.

“Maybe if we had a baby…” He mumbles that same tired argument into your wet skin, hoping for a different response. “It would bring you back to me.”

“I don’t want babies with you, Satoru.” The realization is heavy, but you know he can take it. All Toru wants besides you and money is a child – a mini little version of him that you adore to the ends of the Earth. When you became a Gojo, you promised you’d give him what he wanted – every breathless reminder in the heat of the moment was fuel. You two were trying… until you weren’t. Until you were shrugging off to appointments without telling him, taking prescription pills once he tucks in for bed. You just haven’t told him yet.

Now, he’s standing with it, breathing into your skin as he works up a response in his head that covers the devastation. “You know how my family is–

“I don’t care.” It’s a force of habit, you’re leaning back into his cradle. “Bringing a child into this mess is just inhumane.”

Then, Satoru says it – what he’s been wanting to tell you for weeks. Months, almost. He whispers, “Then why do you stay?”

All you can do is shake your head. You don’t have it in you to lie, and you surely wouldn’t tell him that you were leaving tonight. So, you reply, “I love you.”

“Love isn’t enough to keep a marriage going.”

You know that. You know Satoru loves you more than anything, but you didn’t feel like it was right for him to say it. In your mind, he’s clueless to the cool air you’re exerting every time he draws near. You’re not buzzing in his company anymore, going out of your way to be seen by his blinding eyes.

So, you don’t answer him. You nod, easing your shoulders from his grip as you collect the rest of your sanity and move to leave the shower. He watches you go, fine white hair nearly translucent on his pale scalp as he stands soaked.

Toru’s long eyelashes are sticking together, clumped and prominent as he watches you move and dry off through the fogged door. The lingering, soft scent of your signature bodywash sits sensually in the air, wafting from your skin every time you bend or bow. He studies that fuzzy reflection as if it's the last time he’ll see it, and thinks he feels sad. Devastatingly sad, it rises in his throat like bile he must swallow.

You’re slipping into a soft, ivory robe that Satoru’s mother gifted after the marriage; he has a matching one – it’s your favorite robe with his embroidered initials sewn across your heart. He notices your choice to wear it as you walk out of the bathroom, not even offering him a look over your shoulder, and thinks it’s a sign. You’re still sporting him around, telling him you love him even though you don’t want to bear his children.

But Satoru isn’t stupid. He’s far too smart to feed himself lies in hopes of lengthening this relationship that has always had a timer on it. But he is reeling. There’s nothing he falls short on, in his opinion. He treasures and calls you beautiful, any chance he gets. Vacations, expensive gifts, words of affirmation, and mindblowing touches are just scratching the surface of what he offers you.

Alone, he sits with these thoughts, thin eyebrows knitting together as his dripping head hangs between his shoulders. Standing statuesque in the shower, palms pressed to the damp wall, keeping him upright because you’re not here to do it. Mentally, you’re not here at all.

He can hear you in the bedroom stewing about – opening and closing doors, the shuffle of fabric, and the barely-there sound of your breathing. Toru has you all down to a science, now. He knows you’re slipping into bed, likely naked or covered loosely in some silk slip he loves to bury his head in.

That’s where he wants to be now – three years younger, your hair tangled in his long fingers, words of devotion damp in the air. Instead, he’s breathing in shower steam, a cruel metaphor to the heat the relationship used to hold.

Everything is a metaphor, now. Toru sees that when he’s walking out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, wide, adoring eyes glossed over with humidity and exhaustion. Still, they never lose their supernatural sparkle when they fall on you, eyes closed peacefully as you feign sleep.

He was right; you’re in silk, your eyelids twitching as the bathroom light spills a sliver of golden light across your face. Blankets are bunched loosely at your hips. Satoru can’t help but feel the beauty you emit, it’s why he married you – it’s something in your mere presence that makes you so addictive.

Crawling into bed with you, naked and damp-haired, is so familiar it’s almost sickening. He’s leaning over your shoulders, so gentle as he settles over you, and kisses your cheek. In your daze, you shift.

“What?”

Satoru slides up close to you, chest pressed to your back as he winds an arm around your waist. “Good night. I love you so much, beautiful.” He’s whispering in your ear, kissing over the shell with bitten lips. You can feel the cool wetness of his hair brush your bare neck, beads of water falling onto your skin.

He continues, arm sliding right between the canyon of your breasts, pulling you deeper into his body. You’re lifting your head, eyes shut, because you can’t bear the light right now.

“Shh, just lie with me.”

For some reason, you’re taking it. You’re listening to him, pressing your head back into the pillow, sighing softly. Nowadays, you’re impartial to bedtime cuddling, but Satoru insists. It’s become a nasty habit because now he has trouble nodding off if he’s not pressed skin-to-skin.

It’s the only reason you’re not pushing away. Or, maybe it’s the fact that you’re too far gone to be annoyed or unsettled. His touch feels good, just too warm, too close, like he’s slowly trying to ingest you into his bloodstream.

You two stay like that for hours. Satoru falls asleep right on the cusp of Midnight – his breath steadies over, and you’re still awake, gazing longingly at the bedside clock. Hands tucked under your pillow, you’re fiddling with them, doing anything to dull those uncertain thoughts away. In seven hours, you’d be standing in a train station, life passing you by as you leave the city, leave your husband.

You wonder how he’ll act, you wonder if he’ll cry for you.

No, Satoru never cries.

You bite your lip, gathering strength in your bones to shift and turn around in his arms. When you do, he’s mushing his face deeper into the bed, arms constricting back around you once you’re settled face-to-face. You can feel the softness of his breath over your skin, can hear the soft hums behind each of them like he’s dreaming uncomfortably.

Still, he looks so peaceful. Beautifully asleep, like his life wasn’t crumbling and burning all around him.

In that soft, settled face, you’re staring at the boy you fell in love with – bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, flushing and looking away when you’d counter his initial advances. Your friends were always around that early on, egging it all with a jump in their voice. Everyone felt so accomplished when you and Toru got married, as if they pieced together a match made in Heaven.

You just can’t fathom what went wrong… You don’t want to see it.

You don’t want to see him, anymore. So, you close your eyes and rid your consciousness of struggle – if only for a few hours.

Day comes with a vengeance – a gross, salty taste in your mouth as your brain slams awake. Your body is slow to react, cocooned comfortably in Toru’s thick chest. You’re too warm, alarms are blaring, and you realize you forgot to close the curtains last night. The morning sun is deviant.

You slip out of bed easily, undoing his arms' knot around your body. The silk of your slip is darkened with sweat, most likely Toru’s, but definitely mixed with hints of you. It takes you a while to come to from the cruel awakening, and you’re half alive as you shift to the edge of the bed, feet planted on cool ground. Toru shifts, and you hold your breath.

Your last hour together, and Satoru refuses to wake up.

You’re letting him drag the morning out, not bothering to wake him as you head for the bathroom. Time moves languidly with a solemn undertone, hovering over you like bad memories as you scrub your face and teeth raw. There’s so much tension in your body this morning, and you’re taking it out on yourself – swishing mouthwash, swallowing pills, securing jewels and ornaments.

You’re sure this is the fastest you’ve gotten ready without plans to work. You just think you’d rather be put-together when you disappear from Satoru’s life forever. You want him to have this reflection to remember you by – exposed shoulders, soft skin, dripping with his money in gold.

When he wakes up, stumbling into the bathroom sleepdrunk, he smiles when he sees you in the mirror's reflection. “Why didn’t you wake me, beautiful?”

“Figured you’d want more sleep.” You reply, not even meeting his frosty gaze. You’re fixated on securing a bracelet to your wrist – one, of course, from Satoru. It’s a gold-plated Gojo Clan crest that was passed down through matriarchs, eventually given to the prospective head.

His family is so traditional, overbearing in the worst ways. Since you two started dating, they’ve had a magnifying glass on the relationship, stating it’s just out of care. Sure, the money is endless and overflowing, but it’s not enough to overshadow the abusive balance of power. Toru doesn’t want to lead either – you don’t want to be next to him if he does. He promised you that he’d completely shut down the proceedings if you married him, but keeping his promise isn’t enough.

Nothing he seemed to do was enough. It’s all just a lost cause.

“Now I have twenty good minutes to leave the house.” Once your bracelet is secured, he’s crowding you against the sink, his shirtless body pressing hard into your back. You’re humming, leaning back into his frame.

“At least you showered last night.”

“You got me on that schedule.” He whispers into your neck, big hands squeezing your hips as he kisses you there. “I feel terrible about last night… Followed me in my sleep.”

You knew it, you could sense the stress in his breath even when he looked so peaceful. “We both said some things.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you finish.” Another kiss to the neck, Satoru nuzzles himself deep in your skin, white hair fluffy and strewn about. You look up at him in the reflection and shake your head.

“Just cause I was on top. I was trying too hard – It’s not your fault.”

He doesn’t take that well; he sighs into your skin. “You know I don’t believe that.”

Of course, he doesn’t. One of the most significant parts of your relationship is your uncanny sexual chemistry. There’s never been a time when you two stopped at one round – you both finished multiple times, every time.

“Then, you know I won’t tell you the truth, you should just stop trying.” Both hands are pressed to the countertop, and you’re still covered in your sleep dress. Toru’s hands start to wander. “No, get off of me.”

It stings, but you don’t have to tell him twice. Satoru steps back with an odd look in his eyes, moving to your side. Though you’re rejecting sexual advances, you let him pull your chin forward for a sensual kiss to the lips. It lasts for a few seconds, his hand wanders across your jawline, slotting perfectly in your hair.

“You’re not on campus today, right?”

You shake your head, lips rolling together as you evaluate his lingering taste. “No, you should really brush your teeth.”

“Yeah…” He starts, reaching over you for his blue and white brush. “Haven’t been on the grounds in a while, everyone’s asking about you, saying we should go to dinner to catch up.”

“You’re sure I’m acting normal enough to see them now? Isn’t that what you said last night? That I was acting ‘weird’?”

“You were acting weird last night. Moody.”

You scoff as he begins to brush his teeth. You two are stealing glances in the mirror, too distant to hold contact for too long. “Why do you say things like this if you’re not trying to make me mad?”

“I’m just making an observation.” He shrugs like he’s not being a tool, brushing his teeth slowly as he looks at you. You’re staring down at your hands, shaking your head silently. “I’m sure it's news to you, but I never try to make you mad. I just say what I feel, and you jump down my throat.”

“Just brush your teeth.” You bite out in resolve, standing up straight as you go to walk away.

You're breathless, clutching a fist to your chest as his words wash over you with time. They fall like dominoes, slow and calculated, as you dress for the day. Satoru thinks you’re working from home once he leaves, so you lean into it, picking something easy to wear, yet professional enough to be on camera. It’s the perfect outfit to run away in – something he sees all the time.

But even as you dote over your reflection in the bedroom mirror, adjusting necklines, pulling jewelry, smudging lipgloss, you’re thinking about it – him.

You don’t know why it’s so hard to sit with the fact that Satoru has always been like this. You two are polar opposites in social settings – he’s the life, you’re the longing. In crowded city bars, you’d be the girl tucked under his heavy arm, bearing the weight of his light. Satoru stopped drinking years ago, but when he did, he’d tower over you on the dancefloor, long arms slung over your shoulders as he shouts just how much he adores you – it’s a lot. Everyone’s around.

Reading your hunched demeanor, he doubles down. Yes, all these people are around… these undulating, nameless faces lost among the neon glare, but none of them held a flame to you. He chose you.

And when you’re alone with him, sober to the bone and drained after a work week, all of those sweet memories seem to fade away.

He’s always too loud, too close, overbearing, but never at arm's length. This monstrous, silent loathing is a hard feeling to live with. It eats you alive, until he touches you and takes it all away again.

It’s all you want, right now. Satoru’s touch.

“Staring introspectively into my bedroom mirror whilst my shitty husband calls for me repeatedly. That should be the prompt on your next scholarly paper.”

You turn around, brows furrowed as reality hits again. “What are you talking about? I didn’t hear you.”

“Let’s sync our breaks – meet up somewhere to eat.” Right as you open your mouth to blow him off, he’s rushing back. “It can just be ramen, nothing serious. Come on, just give me ten minutes.”

His begging for a sliver of emotional affection isn’t new, but it usually isn’t so blatant. Then, your eyes wander, wondering if those ten minutes would be worth your time.

No, you have a train to catch. A one-way ticket out of here.

“I’ll let you know how I’m feeling later.” You nod, smiling softly as you dodge that falling stare settled on you. “I-I’m just… I’m tired.”

“It’s okay.” He replies, whisper-soft. He’s trying to hide it, but the shine in his eyes falters for just a second, the only hint you get to his disappointment.

When you see him off that morning, your stomach hurts.

There’s an ink-black, bitter pit there as you watch him jog down the pavement in his endearing little Professor's Aide sweater vest uniform. There’s a bag slung over his shoulder, packed with a Bento you made for him in case you couldn’t see him for his break.

“Bye, love! I will text you!”

You’re silent, passing him a kiss you press to your fingers. Your stomach hurts, and now your heart aches – it burns, you’re on fire, soles of your feet scalding on coals fueled by guilt. That blue glimmer in his eyes is so oblivious to the obvious that it hurts.

If you could help it, this was the last time Satoru would ever see you, and he waved you goodbye with the sweetest smile on his face.

“I love you,” You call back weakly once he’s comfortably out of earshot. Then he turns the corner, and he’s gone – just a lingering presence in the air that only affects you. If you could cry right now, you would. But, you’ve cried enough this last week – more than you ever have with him. Everything was just so terribly bittersweet.

When you made your decision, it didn’t feel real. Somehow, it does now. You wonder how your friends will take it and if you’ll see them again. Sure, they’re your friends, but they’re Satoru’s too. You wonder if you’ll see his family, his mother took you in and doted on you when her son pushed her away. His father gave you advice and priceless memories. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Kin – all of them. You knew all of them.

Being a Gojo was so deeply rooted in your life that you’re not sure it’s possible to change your name. They’ve truly made you feel like one of theirs, as deafening as that sounds.

A minute in the doorway, and you’re turning around to finish out the rest of your morning. All of your bags were packed and stowed away with the laundry, where Toru never treks. It’s just one suitcase – half of your wardrobe. You’re sure you’ll be back to collect everything else.

In any case, you wouldn’t miss anything with his lingering scent on it, so you stare longingly at your art on the walls – the blankets on the couch and the crystal sitting on display in the cabinets.

And just before you’re about to leave, you stop at the counter and rip off a piece of a napkin on display. You brought out a pen from the study, hands shaking as you pull the cap.

Satoru, Keep whatever, or you can sell it. Just don't reach out, i’m leaving you I’m sorry and i really really do love you

A small, wet teardrop lands on the dingy napkin, and it’s the first sign of crying. You’re surprised you still have it in you after so many rivers you’ve wept. Writing his name carried a terrible feeling, scripting out the letters to tell him you were leaving was like bricks falling from your pen.

Shaking hands, you let it drop on the counter beside your note. If this is the last thing you give him, you want it to be candid. Just like your relationship – winging it all until the silence grew inescapable.

You call a cab, heading downstairs with your bags in hand. It’s a conscious decision to leave the door unlocked, but you have the keys stuffed in your pocket. You’re not really thinking about it or anything at all. You’re focused on not falling on your face as you jog down the steps, breathless without a cause. It feels like fire is burning hot in your tracks.

Your suitcase slides into the back, the city breeze rolls your hair back, and a chill envelopes your face. The entire time, you’re silent, bowing for your driver and showing manners, but silent and dreary nonetheless.

The ride is shaky, music drowns out the noise, and emptiness fills the void.

It’s all you can muster up the courage to feel right now, as the city passes you by. It’s an odd kind of comforting melancholy, like when you know the storms have faded and all that’s left is the rebuild.

You have your family waiting at home. A room with a view of nothing but countryside and rolling rivers. You’re giving yourself four weeks to get back to yourself, two to file the divorce properly, and one without any work before returning to just virtual meetings in your childhood bedroom.

Morning jogs, bike rides down the riverside, fresh delicacies to buy – yes, your life would be too rich to worry about Satoru. You feel like a caterpillar slowly slinking towards its cocoon with the joyful unease of what's to come. But you’re still so sad.

It’s hard to believe that anything can feel as good as the way Satoru made you feel, even when his tendencies made you want to pull your hair out. In the end, you made your decision. You slept on it, stewed over it, cried about it, and now you’re living through it.

Reality hits when you’re stepping out at the station. Bodies are everywhere, making it easy to pay your fee and slip into the chaos. You lose your sense of self walking against the foot traffic of the busy morning commuters, sucking back even more tears as you crawl the descending stairs.

Once you reach the bottom, you’re alone enough to breathe, luggage firm at your side as you dig for your phone. You’ve been meaning to do this forever — actually tell your closest friends about your decision. All they know is what you let them see. The second you and Toru start arguing in front of them, you’re walking away. It’s all smiles and love when they bring him up, even after that day you kicked him out of the apartment and made him get a hotel. Lying about your relationship is your forte, but you couldn’t lie anymore.

Shoko picks up two rings deep, bored but aware. ‘What’s up?’

“Hey, I know you’re at work… Just wanted to let you know that I’ll be out for about a month.”

There’s shuffling on the other line – the echo of familiar voices. You can guess she’s walking down the lecture hall during the transition; it was around that time. ‘You’re such a slack. And guess whose gonna be stuck doing all your work? Me.’

“I mean, I’ll be out, but I’ll still be working.” Intercom, robotic voices control the flow as a train departs before you, sending a noisy rush of air into your face.

‘Are you going on vacation or what?’

“Visiting family.” You reply, no emotion.

Shoko silences for a moment, humming under her breath. ‘Without Jo?’

“Yeah… I’m leaving him.”

More silence. You expected nothing less.

“Shoko?”

‘Dude, what? Why?’

“He didn’t… cheat or anything, we just haven’t been happy for most of our marriage. It’s like people want to see us together more than we want to be together.”

‘Okay, coming from the outside — No, you guys are so obviously in love, I mean… All he does is talk about you, it’s genuinely the most annoying thing ever.’ You can see her now in your mind's eye, jaw working a piece of fruit gum between her teeth, talking with her hands.

“Yeah… well… you’re not trapped inside four walls with him once the sun goes down.”

‘That’s so fucking sad, I- wow.’

“I’ve made peace.”

‘-And I don’t even blame you, because I wouldn’t touch him with a long, long stick. He’s too annoying, and that’s just the least of it. So arrogant, too. He’s not as sexy as he thinks he is.’ It’s like once you pull the bandage off, it gave Shoko ample room to talk shit. Yes, she loves Toru – she loves you more. It’s always going to be you that she defends.

“Yeah, but it’s more just, like – he knows what buttons to push and makes pushing them a game. The only time we talk… like, actually talk, is when he thinks I’m mad at him and rushes in for damage control… then, it’s all like, ‘well, baby, if you would talk to me and tell me how you’re feeling, I’d understand.’ – But, whenever I tell him how I’m feeling, he fucking invalidates it like I’m the crazy one! Why am I still begging to pay some bills five years into the marriage?! He doesn’t listen to me.”

‘Let that man pay the bills.’

“It’s the principal-

‘I know, I know.’ She sighs, chuckling softly before she continues. ‘I’m not going to hear the end of this – does he know you’re gone?’

“No… and don’t tell him. I want him to find out for himself.”

‘Harsh.’

“It’d be harsher coming from you.”

The announcement comes from your train, the rush of wheels skidding against tracks inches closer, you’re stepping back from the platform.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. Don’t really want to be on my phone this week, so I’ll probably turn it off. Call my sister if you need anything.”

‘I’ll be thinking about you – stay busy.’

“I will.” You reply, voice bittersweet in your chest. Shoko goes away, and you’re alone again – thoughts rush to the front of your mind. You’re staring at the lockscreen of you and Satoru in Kyoto when things were still good; a friendly stranger took it. Your arms are slung over his neck, and you’re smiling in his face. You remember that day so well – he was all over you and made the sweetest love to you that night. It was all so good back then. You never wanted for anything. Not space, touch, emotion, or love. Satoru gave you everything you needed, including some.

Then, the feeling finally, truly settles.

You miss him.

From: Satoru No news on lunch? Don’t worry about it, baby. Thank you for my bento, I’ll make sure to return it empty. From: Satoru On my way home! Running real fast to you Had the shittiest day, gotta rant when I get back From: Satoru Hey, what’s with the cryptic note? Did someone snatch you up for ransom? Babe? [incoming call]

You glance down at your phone, grunting as you swing your suitcase over your small childhood bed.

You made it back home a little less than three hours ago – just as your sister left for class and your father for work. Stepping out of the cab, your mother was the one waiting for you with a solemn look in her eyes.

Breakfast was waiting, traditional, just like always. Natto, fish, rice, soup – she stuffed you full. Now, you’re finally getting a chance to settle in and unpack, staring down the room that faced the worst of your teenage angst.

When Satoru’s name flashes over your screen, bile rises in your throat. Immediately, you turn it back over, your finger finding the power button, and rid yourself of the stress. You’ve just glanced at the string of messages – he’d been sending them all day, which isn’t unlike him, but it felt wrong.

You two would hide phones under desks and banter on and off all day. In the same room, you two would exchange playful glances like he wasn’t describing every lewd thing he wanted to do to you that night. It’s just a habit; he doesn’t mind when you don’t text him back, but hates when you ignore his calls.

You’re sure it’s how he realizes you’re actually gone – that one missed call.

Then you’re trying to distract yourself from crying by unzipping your case, pulling out shirts, tears flooding in your eyes. But it’s too much to handle.

You collapse next to the suitcase, pulling your knees to your chest, and sob.

It burns so hot in your body, your cries sound like they’re breaking through the barrier, eating you alive. Your open-mouthed sobs are akin to the sound of prey being gutted alive – it’s piercing and raw, cutting your vocal cords.

It’s like you can’t stop. You let it all out, here – fingers bunched in the sheets, drawing blood in your palm from the strength of your nailed grip. The pain goes unnoticed because the aching in your chest is so cruel. Your mind is screaming at you, damning you to fiery hells and telling you to go back.

Go back and deal with it, it’s what you deserve.

You know you’re too weak to be alone.

Suck it up. Just like you always have.

Numbness sets in with time. You watch the neighborhood kids run down the cracked road through your small window, never shifting from the position you cried in. The sun travels through the sky, and late morning morphs into afternoon, afternoon to evening.

Downstairs, the home lights back up from everyone’s departure this morning, but you want nothing to do with it. You’re sure your mom has been home this entire time – most likely heard you crying and decided not to intervene. You’re glad. You didn’t want comfort.

Now you’re staring at the sky as it morphs into grey, and rain begins. You feel lonely.

Grey turns to black, you’re tired.

As blackness settles in, so does sleep. Right in that same position. Nobody bothers you.

Until you’re cracking open your eyes, it’s daytime.

You sit up immediately, regretting your choice as a mean wave of dizziness falls over you. Your stomach aches with hunger, breath ripe, and skin swollen from the tears. You’re still in your clothes from yesterday, the button of your pants digging into your soft skin painfully.

You breathe out a yawn, grimacing at the feeling before looking around for your phone.

It’s precisely where you left it, face down and completely off. You didn’t want to see Satoru’s messages right now. You just wanted to check the time. The house is quiet.

From: Satoru I wish I could kneel at your feet and emphasize just how sorry I am. I can’t believe how stupid and selfish I was when I had you, but I see it now. I could see that you were hurting for a while, but I assumed it would just pass in time.. I don’t know why I assumed, but I regret it so much. Take your time, my love, but don’t forget about me. Please, let’s talk this through before you make any hasty decisions.

You can feel the tears – they’re there before you even skim over the message.

With Godly timing, the softest of knocks fall to your door. It’s the only thing keeping you from breaking down again. There’s no real privacy here; you’re lucky your mom even knocked before slowly pushing it open.

“I figured you would be awake by now.” She smiles at your ruffled reflection – bed head everywhere, sleep lines on your face, drool on your lips. “Would you like some food?”

“Please.” You nod her in, dragging your arm across your face to wake yourself up. “Thank you, Mama.”

She has a tray of the same spread she served you yesterday in her familiar, comforting hands. Green tea steams wantonly at the corner, flailing in its porcelain confines when she lowers it before you. “Didn’t want to bother you much yesterday…”

“Thank you for that.”

“Your father peeked his head in last night.” She continues, reaching out to stroke your hair as you reach for the tea you’d been eyeing. There’s just something about crying that dehydrates you to the bone. “Said you were sleeping so hard that you were snoring.”

“Probably. Hadn’t had a good night's sleep in a while.”

“You can do better than sleeping on top of your bed in all your clothes.”

“Wasn’t really worried about that.” You can tell she wants to bring up Satoru – ask how he is, just out of force of habit. Maybe she wants to ask you about your divorce plans, but she stays silent, nodding slowly. “Thank you for the food.”

“Bring it back down when you’re ready. Take your time.” Her gentle tone is welcomed, but so is her departure. The door clicks shut, and you’re taking a slow, deep breath, suddenly overcome by the burning of oncoming tears. You thought you had expelled them all last night, but Satoru’s message hung over your head like a dark precipitating cloud. It’s all flowing over you like hot rain, downpouring over your mental clarity.

You’re drawn to deep, soulless staring at the poster-covered wall before you as your tea warms. Hunger is lost on you, you reach for the short ceramic cup and bring it to your lips with shaking hands.

You just can’t understand how you can miss someone so much after envisioning life without them – welcoming it, yearning for it. Your heart and mind are tugging you across two playing fields, never letting you get an ounce of rest or peace.

Satoru has been staring into space for far too long, blinking at the wall like it’d somehow make you appear before him again. The note you penned is sitting on the counter, cursing him silently, pulling him to its angsty whims. He can see the small tear stain – can read the shake of your penmanship in the sloping letters. For once in his life, Satoru doesn’t know what to feel.

This has to be a joke.

He steps away for a second, staring unblinkingly at the floor as he reaches for his phone. It’s in his back pocket – he has to shuffle blindly.

Now he understands why you haven’t been responding.

To: gojo 💍 Hey, what’s with the cryptic note? Did someone snatch you up for ransom? Babe?

He gives it a second – that’s all he knows he needs. If you don’t answer in a second, you’re really gone.

His heart burns when you don’t answer at all. He’s paralyzed as the thought of being alone rushes over him. Just like you, he doesn’t understand what went wrong. Yes, you two fought often, but doesn’t every couple? The fighting always led to something better – deep discussions or love-making. He made sure to cover his bases every single time. He even found himself cooking and cleaning for you with a guilty conscience. So much of himself is rooted in you and how you loved him; he’s not sure he knows how to be without you by his side. Of course, it’s more than the money, sex, or power. It’s the fact that your lives are completely intertwined. There is no Satoru without you – there’s no you without Satoru.

That’s what eats him alive.

It’s what makes him stumble to the couch you picked out, head in his hands as he collapses into the downiness. He wants the cushions to swallow him whole – maybe then he can get lost in the wealth of your scent and sincerity. So many times you two have found yourself here, kissing the night away, hands under clothes. Movie marathons that led to falling asleep on shoulders, deep conversations that made him actually crack a tear. It’s all embedded in the upholstery, and he can’t even move. Satoru just feels so pathetic – it’s a new feeling for him, a disgusting one.

“Oh, fuck.” He states as if reality just washed over him. Now, all Satoru can do is sit with everything. He keeps rereading the note he memorized in his head, like there were hints as to where you were hidden behind the script. You told him that you loved him, and as good of a sign as it looks like, it feels counterfeit.

He loved you more than he loved anything – including himself, and he’d never leave you. He has to know why you felt the need to leave him so easily, and it’s not like five years is a long marriage in any form of the term. Satoru wanted a family with you. He wanted to see you swollen with his baby, ripe with hormones, and caring with a blue-eyed infant. It’s all he yearned for – stability, endless, overflowing love, and mutual support.

He’s almost… mad that you gave up.

No, not almost. He’s mad.

Not even thinking, knowing his efforts are for naught, he snatches up his phone and dials you with scary precision. A piece of him knows that you won’t answer, but his hands are shaking. He just needs to try.

He counts – the line rings six times.

Then, it clicks, a stupid robotic voice telling him you’re unavailable. Yes, he fucking knows you’re not available. Or, maybe you are. Perhaps you’re just watching your screen as his name brushes against it. Satoru hates when you let your cowardice take over, and he knows that’s what you’re doing.

In a sudden fit of rage, he takes his ringing phone and throws it across the room, hearing it shatter on impact as it hits a window. As satisfying as it feels, he feels more like a dunce. If he waited a second longer, maybe your sweet voice would brush the rusty, waiting dial tone. He wants you in his arms, but this feeling is so unfamiliar and nasty that he doesn’t know what to do or what to think. He knows he wants you back, he just can’t fathom what he did wrong.

At work the next day, Satoru doesn’t feel any better. In fact, he feels worse. He didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, scared and cold as he tried to hug himself to rest. He hasn’t been in a bed without you since he was a teenager, and he doesn’t think he could exist without your body heat safe in his arms.

The lack of sleep is making him irritable, it’s wafting off of his body as he walks down the hallway to his lecture hall. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to teach anything, but he’d have to sit and annotate – he’s not sure he can keep his mind straight long enough to pen an entire two-hour Sociology lecture, let alone stay awake. That scares him – he’s letting his personal life seep into the fabric of his work, but it’s impossible not to when this is where he met you.

Sweet and young, shy as all hell, too. Satoru would make excuses and drag his friends to the admin office on bullshit bases, all to see your little smile when he complimented your outfit. You were always right there next to Shoko, using her long hair as a security blanket. Everything was good back then… everything was sweet.

Satoru can’t believe he’s fighting back tears as he steps into the vast, vacant hall, bag slung over his shoulder. He must be a walking ball of bad vibes, because his professor is noticing immediately, commenting on it, too, which is supremely unlike him.

No, Kento Nanami was much more of a don’t ask, don’t tell, zero-bullshit type of instructor. Him and Satoru often butted heads, but butting heads was more like purposefully ignoring the other – their relationship is far too compliated for him to dwell on for too long.

“You look like Hell.”

“My wife left me last night.” Satoru finds no need to lie. Yes, he’s struggling. He needs grace; the only way he’d get it is to let Kento know he’s distracted.

Kento turns slowly, watching Satoru move in front of his desk to settle in the front row of chairs. When he’s still, Kento can see the darkness around his usually perky eyes, but he doesn’t know how to feel. “Well… I am sorry to hear that. If you need to take the day off, I unders-

“-just need to distract myself.” Satoru cuts him off like he doesn’t want to talk, sucking his cheek as he pulls out his work laptop. “I forwarded those papers you sent me the other night. Everything’s looking good. From my initial glance at the collection of scores, it looks like this period is sitting at 83% accuracy. Pretty good.”

“I didn’t need those scores until the end of the week.” Kento turns back around to his board, propping himself against the desk he’s occupying. He’s been sketching out the lesson plan against the chalked surface for most of his morning. Traditional for the introduction to a new unit. “But, I’ll start putting them in. Thanks, Gojo.”

“Sure.” Satoru swallows as he types out his password to get into the device. It’s your birthday. His heart hurts. His wallpaper is you at the zoo, holding a little lion cub, totally fearless with the biggest smile on your face. The way the sun touches your features – God, it just makes him weak in the knees. That era of your relationship is so well documented because you two were on cloud nine. He wants it back – he wants you back.

“Satoru,” that familiar, whiny voice is just what he needs right now. It’s the only thing that can pull him from the depths your pretty face dragged him to. “I’ve called you like ten times, they won’t even go thro- hi, Kento.”

“Geto… hello…” Nanami mumbles, not even looking at the visitor, because he knows who it is. The five of you are like a clique, and he hates it. Not because he’s not in it, but because they’ve definitely tried to rope him into the madness, but he’s just in a different league. All he thinks about is work, not friends.

“Sator-

“Gojo left me last night. I broke my phone.” Satoru spits out like it's the easiest thing ever. He’s hiding his emotions like he always does, and he knows Suguru is due to find out at any moment. “Reckless, I know.”

“What?” Suguru walks up to him, long hair pulled back in a low-hanging bun. They’ve known each other damn near since childhood – completely inseperable, face-deep in platonic love. Right now, Satoru knows that Suguru would be the only human capable of picking up the pieces you shattered.

“Packed some clothes, left me a note, and skipped town.”

“That’s crazy – it doesn’t make any sense.” Suguru plops down right next to him, entire body turned at attention, only for Satoru to pour every vapid thought into. He’s not supposed to be in this hall, but he’s friendly enough with Kento to skate by during the last half hour before lectures start. “I just saw her the other day with Shoko and Utahime. They… didn’t invite me to lunch, but I understand the whole girls’ day aspect of it all. She just… I’m sorry, she seemed so at ease.”

“Because she was with Shoko.”

“Does Shoko know where she is?”

“If I asked, she’d just lie for her.”

“Where could she have even gone?”

“Probably back home.” Satoru’s sucked into something on his laptop, opening a new document and labeling it under todays date and the topic Kento wants to cover. If he wasn’t going through a breakup, he’d be excited for this new unit, though he’s experienced it year after year. “Been saying she misses her family a lot.” Then he thinks about it, sitting forward with his chin pressed into a closed fist. Satoru has never barred you from doing what you want – staying out all night with your friends? Of course, he didn’t care. He welcomed it. Solo trips back home? Oh, Satoru encouraged it.

He was the perfect husband – what happened?

At his side, Suguru watches him stew over the matter, thin brows knitted in pity. He reaches out, hand smoothing over Satoru’s shoulder. He shakes him softly. “If you don’t want to be alone, my guest bedroom is empty. There’s probably still traces of you in there – not like anyone else uses it.”

Satoru hesitates, knowing that a night with Suguru would lead to little sleep just because they have everything in the world to talk about. They have the same favorite shows, movies, foods, and conversations – it’d be a perfect distraction, but Satoru just wants to get you back.

“Or, we can go to a bar. I know you don’t usually drink, but it is Friday, I’m sure if we bribe Shoko with free drinks, she’d help you find her.”

“I really shouldn’t…” The sane part of his mind is telling Satoru not to seek out one who doesn’t wish to be sought, but he wants to. He knows Shoko knows where you are – Hell, Utahime probably knew, too. You’re surprised Suguru’s seemingly the only one in the dark. “But, I don’t think I want to be alone.”

Suguru nods slowly, not pushing Satoru for eye contact when he knows he’s sensitive to the touch. “We don’t have to get drunk and emotional if you don’t want to.” He continues dropping his hand to cross them in his lap. All Satoru looks like to him is a shell. He’s staring at his screen like it’d tell him what he needs to know, and Suguru finds himself, for the first time ever, genuinely worried for him.

“I’ll… uh— I’ll text you about it later.”

“Sure.”

“Are you going to sit this one in, Geto?” Kento turns around, snatching up a beige rag from his desk to dust his hands. “Bells about to hit.”

Satoru feels both of their stares zero in on him, and he knows he’s not hiding anything. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair disheveled, and flat over his head. Feeling some kind of insecure, he reaches into his bag and slides on a dark pair of square glasses.

Suguru sighs. “Nobody would blame you if you went home.”

“She’ll come around.” He whispers, pursing his lips as he leans back in his chair. His hands are shaking, so he tucks them close to his chest. “She always does, doesn’t she?”

Doesn’t she?

Two weeks down the drain, completely wiped from your memory. Sober days and sleepless nights – that moody in-between when you’re gasping for air. Still, you battled it through in your childhood bed.

You got over it, just like you knew you would.

Work started again last week. You’ve been slowly scouring through emails, working your way forward by combing through backlogs. Most of the time, your job falls to scheduling Dean meetings, prospective professor interviews, and prestigious tours, but it varies. Without you, all of this work would have fallen onto Shoko, but you can’t feel bad. She’s been doing this way longer than you and is ten times more efficient. However, she liked to complain. You let her have it this time.

Now, you’re planning your trip back to the City. The apartment you’d been keeping an eye on since the marriage had just closed with the money you saved, and you’re finally confident.

Rather, confident enough.

You will definitely have to see Satoru when you go back to work, but it’s just something you knew you’d have to deal with. It’s the unfortunate downside to working with your partner, and you think that’s what did it in.

You’re sitting at your family’s dinner table, bags packed all around you as you wait for your ride to the station. You’re sawing your lip in concentration, pen scribbling messily in your lax grip.

It was an exercise you’ve been putting off since you left the city – writing Satoru a note letting it all out, and then freeing yourself from the burden by throwing it away. His eyes would never lie upon these scribbled words, so you let it out. You’re not sure what you’re even writing anymore, your wrist is moving at its own accord.

Satoru, I love you. It might not seem like it right now, but I love you to the ends of the Earth and back again. Being married to you felt like a dream in more ways than I can fathom, but I’d wake up at night, and that bliss fades into loathing. You have no problem sticking up for me in front of your friends, so why, when I’m faced with impossible decisions from your family, do you go radio silent? We agreed it’d just be us. We decided we’d focus on each other and our work, not on family nonsense that drains my psyche and leaves me exhausted. They want something from me that I can’t give, and I didn’t know how to tell them no - everyone is so pleasant to me. That being said. It’s not why I left… I’m actually not sure why I did it, or I just don’t want to see things for what they are. Every time we’d see each other for over an hour, we’d fight. I admit that I was the catalyst for most of the arguments, but you never reassured me. I’d fall asleep next to you afterwards, sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe, and you would just turn around and pretend not to hear. Why? I guess that’s all I want to know, now. Why? I’ve always given you everything you needed without a question – why was it so easy to push me to the wayside? Why is it so easy to ignore me to my face for days on end? And why can’t you see me as more than an incubator for your unborn children? I just can’t help but wonder…

As you’re writing, the car your family called for you pulls up outside. You wanted to leave while they were all predisposed with work and school because you know you’d cry and cave if you saw their pitiful goodbye faces. They insisted on the fare, you’re insisting that you’ll be back as soon as you can. You take the half-finished note, folding it lax in your fingers as you stand and grab your bags.

You’re leaving with more than you came with. Typical.

And you’re leaving like you were never here, with the wind peeking through the front door and the sun on your skin.

You thought you’d be more excited to get back to your life, but there’s an invisible feeling of longing planted deep in your chest that’s making it hard to swallow. The letter you penned to Toru is balanced between your fingers as you swing your heavy bags into the vehicle. This time, the driver watches you from the side with a cigarette between his teeth, mentioning your destination softly and how the fare was already pre-paid. You nod the older man along, giving him a phony smirk when the boot closes and you’re stepping into the backseat.

You don’t care that he’s still lingering outside. It gave you time to settle in, rustling the soft paper, trying not to give the flustered words your attention. All this note is is a weak attempt to try to understand where things went wrong. Satoru was never unhappy in the relationship, not like you were; he just didn’t know how to approach your angst without being struck in the crossfire. He exercised the same cowardice he condemned you for, and now you two exist worlds apart.

Still, you can’t help but wonder where he is… What he’s doing.

Around this time of day, he’d be wrapped up in lectures. You can almost see his slumped figure over his laptop, typing without giving the keyboard a second glance. Toru’s always been an overachiever – too good at his job. Too good to still be an aide, but waits patiently for his time to come as a professor.

It’s always been his goal to buy you a big house that you two could grow old in together. You can close your eyes and hear his sweet voice lost in your sheets, whispering every detail about your future in your ear. But when you open them again, it disappears.

The car door slams on the rest of your shriveled sanity, and you’re standing in front of a home that wasn’t yours… Yet.

You just signed papers online, carrying cold, hard cash in your bag that’d leave you with virtually nothing once you hand it over in exchange for keys. It’s like being in a wind tunnel – feeling the city pulse and move around you as you drag your measly two suitcases against polished concrete. You didn’t know what time it was – your phone is too buried in your luggage, but you know you just got off a nearly four-hour bullet train, and your ears rang.

Luckily, the property owner isn’t too far behind you, and you can exchange cash for keys within two minutes of your arrival.

You thought once you had a place to call your own, that you’d feel completely comfortable, but standing in the echoey, semi-modern space, you feel devoid of life. You don’t even own a speck of furniture – this is not your home.

So, you leave your bags at the locked entryway, sliding off your shoes out of habit as you head to the back wall of covered windows. Your apartment is on the ground floor, and humans walk by, not knowing you’re looking over them. You take your time, pulling each curtain so the sun can bleach the wooden floors in gold.

Right there, under the sun like a contented cat, you pull your knees to your chest and sit… for hours, just grounding yourself. Losing time as the sun floats through the sky.

All you can do since the separation is to sit with the pain and waste time. It’s the only thing that keeps you sane.

You can’t recall what time exactly you stood to relieve your throbbing bladder, but when you’re walking back into the empty expanse, your phone is dinging from the confines of your bag. Sighing, you lean down to flush it out.

From: Utahime Are you back in town!! Suguru invited us out for free drinks From: Shoko Don’t worry, i told him to fuck off if he already invited Gojo He said he didn’t To: Utahime, Shoko I don’t really think I’d be good company From: Shoko One drink and you’ll forget about that maniac. From: Utahime Please!! We miss u To: Utahime, Shoko I don’t trust Suguru. There’s no way he didn’t invite toru From: Shoko Okay, well i trust him enough. If we see him, it’s no big deal we’ll just leave From: Utahime You know he doesn’t drink anyway From: Shoko Tired argument, babe. He’s wherever Geto is To: Utahime, Shoko Yeah, well maybe he should marry suguru next. From: Shoko Girl… To: Utahime, Shoko I told you i wouldn’t be fun to be around right now. Enjoy your free drinks, you two deserve them

The group chat goes silent enough for you to tuck your phone away, breathing in deep through your nose as you watch evening set in outside your windows.

You’ve been putting it off since you returned, but there isn’t a speck of anything in this space, and you were exhausted. In some form of the phrase, you’d have to pick up your feet and carry yourself to the store to get an air mattress.

That ten-minute walk felt like a marathon in your exhausted mind. But like everything in adulthood, you must be uncomfortable for twenty minutes to be comfortable for eight hours. You peel your body into action, rubbing at your eyes until you see stars.

You’re only bringing your phone in case of an emergency. You didn’t want to see it – you didn’t want to see the lockscreen picture of you and Toru that you didn’t have the guts to delete. It’s better not to look because you can’t delete him; it just didn’t feel right yet. Somehow, someday, strength will take over, and you can rid your life of his shadow. One day, you’ll fall out of love and stare at someone else with the stars you’re rubbing into your eyes.

It’s all you can hope for. It’s the only thing that keeps you warm and sane as you leave your apartment.

You moved to a new neighborhood, and although you’re not unfamiliar, it’s different. The alleys are darker on this side of the city – street lights flicker, but you welcome it. Nobody is really around; convenience stores light up the area in neon, but that’s not where you’re headed. The local department store is just down the street. Foot traffic gets heavier as you approach the business district, which is still booming with the promise of night.

Your one-track mind gets you in and out of the stark-white space in less than ten minutes. Your feet are moving so fast that your legs are numb, and you can’t see anything that’s not shrouded in inky blackness. If you cared to see anything for what it truly was, you’d notice just how depressed you are. You’re in pain – full, bodily pain like you’re recovering from an injury.

It hits you all at once, and you’re almost back to your apartment.

Then, you make a decision that doesn’t fully set in until it’s finished – you slide into a 7-Eleven, air mattress tucked under your arm, and pick up two cans of dangerously strong mixed drinks. You’re lying to yourself, thinking that they’d just be a vehicle for sleep so you can start work with a full night.

You’re an incredible liar – even you believe the nonsense your brain is pushing.

As you make it back into your door, bags hanging from your fingers and yawning sleepily into the night, you can hear your phone ping quietly in your pocket. Once you step inside and place your loot at your feet, you shrug to grab it. It’s the group chat again.

From: Shoko

[1 image attachment]

Geto said hiiiiiiii

The picture is of the three of them, side by side at a bar table. Suguru’s in the middle, cradling a frosted pitcher of beer with the biggest close-eyed grin on his face. Utahime is behind him, peeking from around his back, sending you a friendly, stoic wink. Shoko’s barely in frame, but her smudged eye makeup and gently smoking cigarette between her teeth is undeniable.

You crack a smile and send back a quick message.

To: Shoko, Utahime Love u guys ♡ have fun From: Shoko Goodnight, we love you! Missing you like hell

That’s the last of it. You turn your phone off again.

Before you can even set up the mattress, you’re cracking into your first drink, taking a deep breath to keep your taste buds at bay as you swallow the entirety in just under a minute.

Thank god you can’t taste it, because you hated drinking like this. It’s pointless and depressing, but you were feeling so much that you had to numb it out. If Satoru could see you now… You don’t even want to know how he’d react.

You drink more to chase him away.

Uncoordinated and dizzy from the mixture of alcohol on an empty stomach, you drag the air mattress box into the middle of the open room. You didn’t want to carry it all the way to the bedroom, so you kneel, manicured fingers sharp as you rip into the tape and cardboard.

You’re half-awake, blinking drearily as you throw the empty box behind you, crawling over the tufted, flat expanse to spread it out. You splurged on a bigger bed, needing something to roll in without fear of falling onto cold, hard flooring. It’s so big that you have to stand up, hiccuping softly as your feet spread it to full size.

You stand over it, out of breath with your hands pressed to your hips. You can’t really see clearly through this drunken haze, but it dawns on you that you don’t have an air pump. You forgot to buy one.

“Fuck.” You whine, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. You’re seeing splotches of white – they dart across your sight like scurrying mice, driving you into a feeling so sick that you’re almost anxious.

Not thinking twice, you sit back on your knees, crawling to the air hole, and giving it one last push. You bring the nozzle to your lips, taking a deep breath before blowing. It’s weak, comically so. You can’t hold a stream for less than half a minute, and your head is already spinning. You’re whining again like a tired child, thoroughly beaten down and hopeless as you size up your situation.

If only Toru were here… He’d make it all better.

You’re standing on shaky feet, peeking around the darkness for the promise of your phone. It’s right where you left it, completely off and face down on the kitchen counter. Dragging your bare feet, you go to grab and turn it back on.

You call him. All inhibitions are lost.

He answers… right away. The phone doesn’t even ring twice.

The line clicks, but he doesn’t speak–not yet. His breathing is shallow.

“S-satoru?”

More silence. You want to sob.

“Toru, I jus- I know I’m the last person you want to hea-

‘You sound like you’re going to cry.’ He blurts out suddenly, voice so familiar it makes you sick. There’s no animosity when he’s talking to you; he just sounds worried.

“I’m back in the city and I… I just – I don’t have any furniture at my new apar-

‘Come home. If you want to sleep in the spare room, it’s fine, I’ll let you have it. Just stop this madness and come home. I’m waiting for you.’

You have to hang up before you can respond, because the tears are coming and they’re disgusting and heavy. You’re sobbing into your hands, feeling so overcome and pathetic with yourself and this turn of circumstance. Of course, Satoru is being nice about it – he loves you and you blindsided him, he’ll take any grasp at you that he can get.

You sob as you slip on a jacket and your shoes, tears and snot dripping onto the floors and leather. You’re shaking as you reach to wipe it away, unable to look at yourself in the reflection of your lock screen as you glance at the time.

There are no trains running at this hour. The only things that lit up the streets are twenty-four-hour convenience stores and old, late-night family restaurants that make most of their money from the after-bar crowd. Your friends are likely tucked behind one of those doors, laughing, living, and feeding off the dopamine they pour into each other. You belong with them, leaning drunkenly into your husband's chest as he dotes on you. So many sleepless nights were spent in that spell. No cares in the world. In love. Young. You want to go back.

So you walk that twenty-some minutes back home – Satoru’s home, now. Yes, you picked it out. Yes, you decorated it, but you had to be okay with letting it go, so you are. You just have to lie to yourself a little more every day, and hopefully, the breakup will morph into reality. You just don’t want to suffer anymore.

In your daze, the front door code is still etched into your memory. So is the way to the fourth floor – you climb the steps, breathless by the time you get there.

Your and Toru’s apartment was nothing less than luxurious with the money he poured into it. Though he promised that you two would split bills before you agreed on getting the place, that quickly fell by the wayside when he looked at you with those bright doe eyes, mentioning he’d love nothing more than to take complete care of you, so all you had to focus on was your work and sanity. He also had a mind to make you a mother, but he conveniently didn’t add that to his point that night.

You hold your breath as you reach to knock on the door. Before your knuckle even hits wood, it’s swinging open. All the lights are on – you squint.

Satoru is on the other side, loose shirt hanging from his shoulders, bone-white hair all ruffled with relaxation. Seeing him again after all this time nearly kills you. Of course, you can’t look him in the eyes. “Hi. Come on.”

“I don’t want to talk.” You start, just protecting your heart from his musings before anything could transpire again. “I don’t want to fix things, I just want to sleep.”

“Okay.” He mutters, standing off to the side so that you could step in. “Okay, come on. We don’t have to talk.” The door opens wider, and light spills across your face. It takes you a minute to gather strength to step inside, but when you do, rivers of ease flow over your shoulders. You sigh.

“Your hair is longer.” He mentions in passing, catching himself as he goes out to touch you. Stagnant – midair, he hovers, telling himself no. He respects your space. “I changed the sheets in the room for you.”

You ignore him, shouldering past his hard body with a singular goal in mind. Your stomach is in knots – your head lighter than air. Everything is fuzzy, and if you didn’t fall into the warmth of a bed right now, Toru would have to carry you to his.

“Or you can sleep in our bed and I’ll take the spare room.”

Again, no answer. He follows behind you loosely as you stumble down the hall.

“Are you okay?”

“Leave me alone, just stop talking.” You slur, stupidly thinking that not giving him any of your attention would make him stop trying to squeeze words out of you.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to me. You’re the one who left.”

“Shut up,” you bite, turning into the cracked doorway of the spare bedroom. He’s still hot on your trail, sleepy eyes begging for more where you couldn’t see.

“We can fix this if you just tell me what I did wrong-

Before he can finish, you’re turning around in the doorway, not giving him any mercy as you slam the door on his face. It locks shortly after, just rubbing salt in his festering wound. At least he didn’t lie about switching out the sheets – the whole room smells fresh, like comfort materialized. You’re fumbling with your pants as you lumber to the warm, soft expanse, exerting as little effort as you can before collapsing into bed.

You don’t have the energy to flip the lights off, so they stay on as you roll around in the sheets, trying to swallow down the oncoming doom of nausea and dizziness. You know Toru is still standing outside of the door, you can see the shadow of his feet under the crack, but he can’t come in – or, he doesn’t want to break the lock out and piss you off even more.

After a few silent minutes, he shrugs off, and you fall in and out of consciousness. Sleep doesn’t come – not for real, at least. Whenever you think you’re getting there, you’re startled awake with your vapid inner thoughts. His pull is supernatural; it’s like you’re struggling to cope with being so close, yet so far. Right in the other room, you can hear Satoru moving around restlessly – shuffling in and out of the bathroom, talking to himself.

He’s alone, you’re lonely.

You blame it on the alcohol wearing off in your blood. That’s what gives you the push to roll out of bed and stumble to the door. Satoru stills in the other room right as the lock clicks – you know he hears you. He knows you’re on the way.

It’s why he’s not in the bedroom when you crack open the door. It’s like he tucked off to the bathroom on purpose, using the shower as a distraction while you fall into your old side of the bed. It’s made neatly – your throw pillows are fluffed, and you’re succumbing to your weakness again.

You dozed off for about ten minutes before you heard the door creak softly. Satoru’s footsteps are featherlight, and he knows you’re awake. Your breathing isn’t as shallow as it is now when you're sleeping. He doesn’t say anything about it–not yet.

Satoru waits for you, gathering the towel wrapped around his waist as he sits on the bed. He knows you too well.

So he doesn’t flinch when he feels the bed tremble beneath him. Sheets ruffle around your knees as you rise blearily. He hums when your arms wrap around his hard, broad shoulders, then mumbles, “You’re predictable.”

“I’m burning up, I need help.” You plead weakly, lips focused right above his sharp collarbone. His skin tastes like it always has – sweet, for some reason. Like he was sculpted out of sugar.

“Have you been drinking?”

You pause right at the stubble of his undercut, the translucent shag tickling your nose. “I don’t need to be scolded.”

“Well,” he peeks over his shoulder, pulling your chin close. The glow of his eyes amongst the darkness of the room is frighteningly familiar. You can’t look away. “I know you don’t want to talk about it.”

You’re waiting for him to do something – to take control of this situation and steer the reins in your favor. Right now, you want him to annihilate you in the gentlest way only he can. Touching yourself will never be enough now that you’ve tasted him. It hits you like a craving.

You’re left flicking between his eyes and his shiny, pink lips. They’re drawing you in like a siren song, weaving incantations that only your drunken mind would bend to. And finally, he kisses you. Something inside of you shrivels up and dies – your pride.

Now, you’re shedding everything for him, gentle grip turning into claws in his shoulders. His skin is soft after his shower, leaving bright red marks against the pale ocean. Toru grunts into your mouth, shifting over to his knees as he crowds you against the mattress. Big arms cage you in – your back is lodged in the sheets, you’re reaching to pull him closer.

Through it all, you don’t talk. When you’re needily grinding up into his thigh, he’s silent. Reaching down to your core, he doesn’t say a word.

Lips hot and panting into the hard skin behind his ear, hands clawed in his hair, you don’t whisper his name.

Your legs open for him, thighs parting like the Red Sea. He’s so hard for you, twitching against the towel he rips away and abandons somewhere in the room. Right now, every single move mattered. There are no words to dull your mood – nothing for him to say that hasn’t already been said.

Satoru’s spent a short-lived lifetime telling you how beautiful you are, how well you’re taking him, how sexy your body is. You know that’s what he’s thinking; he just won’t waste his breath telling you again.

After all, you couldn’t be bothered to waste yours, telling him that you were leaving to his face.

To you, this hot, grinding silence is deafening. Toru’s biting at your neck, kissing you holy, but it’s so foreign that you couldn’t really focus. You bite down a plea.

But he hears it. When he kisses you, he can taste the desire. His naked body is so pressed to yours that there’s no room to exist outside of it – you pull him closer.

Somewhere in the headiness, Satoru works a hand between your soft, stretchy waistband. He knows you’re ready for him, and he knows he’s ready for you. This moment might have been the perfect opportunity to prove devotion to each other. What a shame you’re so caught up in your head, worried about losing more of yourself to morph into the reality of who Satoru needs you to be.

He tugs your thin pants down your legs, staring down at the quivering flesh that blooms with irritation against the harshness of the fabric. You’re seething into his skin, hips lifting from the bed so he can take you quicker.

The issue is, he wants to see you. Toru wants to dip his head between your thighs and devour your cunt until you’re screaming his name, but you don’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve it.

The most you two could chew off without burying yourself in grief was wordless, raw sex. That’s all there is to it – Toru wants to fuck you, get his rocks off, then sleep like a baby. Sure, he’d care in the morning, but you’re presenting yourself to him with armor stripped. He’d be a fool to pass it up.

When he sits up, you’re scrambling. The air is too cold, his height is too brooding. He’s staring down at you, pearly chest rising and falling in the nightlight, but the gaze isn’t really there. One hand works at his erection, thick fist wrapped around the base of his cock as he coaxes it to full hardness.

You’re staring at his body, swallowing down gobs of want as you flick past his waistline. Your neat, mindful Satoru – he always trimmed his body to exactly what you wanted. The soft patch of hair that gathers under his belly button makes you crazy. The neat trimming of his pubes makes your mouth water, and you’ve been holding back for so long.

If you could tell him anything right now, it’d be just how much you need him. It was eating you alive at this point – all this cruel buildup.

You bring your hand to your lips, taking to biting down on the length of your thumb while he settles back against you. Any more sober, you’d stop him and tell him to wear a condom, but of course, you’re silent.

He mounts you again, pressing two big hands on either side of your head. Your free hand reaches up, holding his wrist gently as he slowly eases himself inside of your hole, stretching you out like he never left.

You take a second to focus on the feeling, eyes falling shut as the stretch engulfs every single one of your nerves. It’s so thick – drilling deeper and deeper inside of you until there was nothing left to give. All the way inside, Satoru nuzzles against that uncomfortably sensitive point inside of you, kissing it like he was proud of the pain.

You open your mouth to praise him – to whine about how deep he is, but all that comes out is a soft, strangled moan. He grunts again.

Then, he cuts himself loose, fingers working at the sheets as he pulls out halfway, pretty face screwing up as he fucks back into you.

You’re moaning, crying, rejoicing, living for everything in this moment. Your grip on his wrist tightens, and your thumb-gag breaks through. Satoru fucks you with an unnatural, mean precision, drinking up the sound of your skin slapping into each other. With this fervor, you’d be bruised tomorrow, but it’s too good. You love it when he’s rough – it’s just what you needed after sustaining for a month.

Your throat burns with the need to scream at him – to tell him to take you harder, to kiss you stupid, but you don’t. Satoru buries his face in your neck and gives it to you. Over and over, thrust after thrust. It hurts, but it’s so good.

Time creeps and crawls through the ordeal. Your belly is numb and raw, legs shaking from the tight strangle they have across Toru’s waist. He hasn’t moved an inch – letting himself plank over you, plowing into your weeping cunt with no mercy, and no end in sight. Veins bloom like red-hot wires in his neck, sweat beads like water in his collarbone, and he’s so hot that the humidity gathers in his still-damp hair, rolling off the strands and onto your skin.

Thirty minutes roll by – he’s still going. Everything hurts.

He doesn’t have your loving voice egging him on, drawing him closer and closer to the release he needs. You don’t have that loving, sweet touch toying with your clit that leaves you gushing and gasping for air. You both are trying to make do with the bare minimum, not even looking at each other.

You’re shaking.

Satoru sits up, a detached, manic look in his eyes as he breathes heavily through his red-stained lips. He stares down at you, searching your expression for everything. You’re not telling him how you feel, but your face is screwed up so much that he knows it’s not the best feeling. He hates that he enjoys the thought of that. He hates that he needs to push his pain onto you – in fact, he feels monstrous, but it doesn’t will him to stop.

Instead, he slows his mean fucks, dragging his hands to your waist where he turns you over like a limp, freshly caught fish. You fumble at the stark change, coughing softly, eyes flying open. Under your breath, you cry. “Mmfmf.”

“Shh,” he bites back, all sharp and unfriendly in the base of his chest. Hands still stuck in your hips, he pulls you exactly where he wants you, chest pressed to the bed, behind on full display – full mercy. Your skin is so inflamed, he takes a second to drink it in.

Then, he slaps you right on your left cheek. You chew on a surprised yelp. Something slips.

“Tor-

Another slap. You swallow down your protests.

Behind you, you can feel him dragging his cock against the hot sensitivity hidden between your labia, dripping with the newfound touch Satoru is working himself up to give you.

Again, at your prime, he’d take this moment to completely dive in. He’d lose himself in the warm tears you’re excreting, lapping up the fluids like it’s his only nourishment. He’d worship you – now, all he does is cup his hand against your embarrassingly wet cunt, longest fingers working at your clit. His palm rubs harshly against your quivering hole, and you use the mattress as a screaming pillow, finally letting it out.

Tears come, now. They burn and ache because they know whatever sacred intimacy you shared with Toru before is long gone. He’s fucking you, now. If you closed your eyes and wiped your memory, this would all feel like a stupid, drunk hookup.

That’s all you are, now.

You don’t even make a sound when he starts to bottom out inside of you again. You feel like a statue on display with the way Satoru spreads you open, both hands grabbing at your stinging ass. He watches the way you swallow his cock like a delicacy, gulping down want. Now, he’s dangerously close. He knows this was what he needed – this lewd visual.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t have been further away from release, and it’s tearing you apart. You need to tell him – scream at him and curse his name, but you can’t.

You let him make a mess of you, flooding your cervix with his sticky, fluid seed. He comes so hard and you can feel it – it’s so deep that you swear you can taste his desire bubbling in your throat. It’s acidic and raw, but it tastes like him, so you love it – you miss the taste when you swallow it down.

He’s pulling out once he’s empty and satiated, come planted so deep inside of you that it doesn’t even slip out in his wake. He steps away, your hips fall on the bed, and you’re limp and unsatisfied. All you can do is blink. Satoru rolls away.

You don’t know what he’s doing, or where he’s going, but when you fall over to your side, tears dripping into the mattress, you’re overcome.

You’re crying, croaking weakly, “c-can you-

The sound of your voice stops Satoru in his tracks. He was heading back to the bathroom to clean himself up, but he thought you had dropped off to sleep immediately.

“What?”

“Can you… J-just try?”

“All I wan-want to do…” You stop again, swallowing salty tears. “Please, all I want to d-d-do is come. P-please…” You feel so pathetic – and you are. You feel like the worst person ever born.

If you could see his face, you’d see the speck of emotion that runs off his crystalline, flushed features. He would feel terrible if you cried like this to him a month ago. Now, he just feels something like an obligation to turn around and stalk back over to your side of the mattress.

You’re still crying into your arms when he approaches, hiccuping softly as he lowers to a squat.

Like this, he finally talks. “Swing your legs over, I’ll clean you up.”

The smoothness has your eyes flying open, heart doing a billion jumping jacks all at once. Limbs shaking, you struggle to sit up.

Satoru notices, knowing he has to retake hold of these reins. He reaches out for you, big hands closing around your thighs as he pulls you to the side of the bed. There’s nothing gentle about it, now. He licks his lips.

Both legs hooked over his shoulder, your back falls back onto the mattress, and at the first flick of his tongue prodding at your quivering entrance, you’re crying again. But he’s good at this part. He doesn’t stop. That licks turns into sensual drags of the tongue, scraping against your sensitive slit, easing over your clit. You finally moan for him – real moans. Pleased moans.

He presses a kiss to your hole. “Push it out on my tongue.” He demands, those few words feeling like acid on the tongue. It’s fucking filthy, but nothing out of his ordinary, deranged mind. You take a breath and tense your body, working on easing all of the deep come right back to him.

Satoru is licking it up like an eager dog, slurping and sucking obscenely as his grip gets lost in your pillowy thighs. Now, he’s working you over like he’s chasing your release, knowing your body just like a doting husband would. It would only take him a few minutes of tongue-work before you’re coming for him, but now, it only takes a single one.

You’re coming before you can even focus on the feeling, and it hits you like a brick to the skull. Your spine bends, bones creaking, blood rising to insane temperatures in your body as sweet, sweet bliss meets you once more.

It’s all you wanted – this feeling has been the singular thing you’ve been chasing at Toru’s side. He gives it so well and so selflessly that he’s still lapping up mess when he feels you coming undone around him. He carries you through it just like he always has – thick, plush lips sucking at your insanely sensitive bud like he’s trying to receive something as collateral. It drives you crazy – you reach out to push him away.

The job is done. Satoru rises to his feet.

He heads off again to finish what he started, wiping your taste from his lips, back into his mouth as he gets lost behind the bathroom door. He leaves you on the bed to come back to your senses, fully sobered up and slightly sick from the onslaught of physicality. You reach into your matted hair, screwing your eyes shut in shame. Every time you move, your core trembles and cries. Everything hurts.

In the bathroom, Satoru flicks on the lights and doesn’t recognize the face he sees in the mirror. He’s blown red, scratches all over his arms and back. His hair is everywhere, eyes beet-red and sensitive. He leans forward and spits in the sink.

The faucet creaks as he turns it on.

Everything washes away.

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thinkinonsense · 9 months ago

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Sit Still｡𖦹°‧

—gif credit: not mine!! i can't remember where i found it but if i can find it again or the owner comments, ill add their username <3

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: cockwarming (sorta?), innocence kink, p in v, logan attempts to teach reader how to ride.

a/n: apologies for this being so short but chapter two of bewitched should be out friday or saturday! also i'll be responding to some requests soon too in case i spam lmao

"a-are you sure 'bout this, lo?"

your timid voice echos around the bedroom, capturing logan's attention again. he's been dreaming for months of this sight in front of him; you sitting pretty in his lap, only wearing a pink lacy bra and a pair of matching panties.

"you want me to make you feel good, right sweetheart?"

a small sigh escapes you as you attempt to grind onto him again. logan places his large hands on your waist to stop you from wiggling around. he knows you can't help it, you're still new to this after all.

it started a month ago when you and logan were left alone together in the mansion. everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away. you were recovering from a cold and logan simply didn't want to chaperone. instead, he offered to stay back with you.

late one evening, he came in to check on you and ask if there was anything you needed. that's when you asked him the question that nearly killed him, 'will you take my virginity?' you didn't see a problem with it. the two of you weren't strangers, you trusted logan, and he obviously has experience since he's much older than you.

ever since that night, you two have been going at it like rabbits. tonight, logan promised to help you get used to being on top. more importantly, training you to take him from this angle.

"c'mon, baby..." he coos with one hand on your hip and the other holding a cigar to his lips. "do it just like i told ya'."

swiftly, logan removes the rest of the material between the two of you before resting back against the mattress. anxiously, you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down until you're sat fully on his lap again.

"nice 'n slow for me, sweetheart. that's it, stay still..." logan hums, lost in your tight, wet heat. he can hear every little noise coming from your lips. "atta girl."

it's a struggle to take all of him at once. you can feel him deep in your gut, nudging that sweet spot inside of you. logan can tell that your nerves are still tangled in knots, practically strangling his cock.

"lo, i c-can't do it." you huff, upset at yourself. "too full to move."

"poor fuckin' baby." logan teases with faux sympathy. "how 'bout we try something else for now?"

too caught up with the soft grind of his hips, you nod your head mindlessly to his proposal. logan brings his thumb to his lips, replacing the cigar which is now back on the nightstand. he sits up, making you whimper as he does so. you lean forward to capture his lips with your own, whispering how badly you needed him to just fuck you himself. instead, logan's got something else in mind.

"ah!" you gasp as he starts to rub your button with the wet pad of thumb. "f-fuck, right there..."

the soft rocking of your hips makes your toes curl and fingers pull at his little kitten tuffs. logan's mouth moves south to your chest. one nipple in his mouth then the other until both are swollen and kiss bitten. vibrations pour from his mouth as he groans at the tight squeezing of your cunt around his girth.

"ah-ah." he tsks, hand coming up to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together gently. "what did i say 'bout staying still?"

"s-sorry, lo.." you whimper voice muffled by your squished pouty lips.

despite having incredible stamina, logan was ready to release just from looking at your pretty face. he never been this close to cumming so soon but feeling you tense around him and wiggle in his lap made his head spin. all of this movement from only his thumb drawing circles.

"christ..." he grunts in your ear, moving faster now and with more pressure. "you're tryin' a kill me, sweetheart."

all logan gets in response is incoherent babbles of 'don't stop' and 'please, please, please'. he knows you are close when you claw at his back and start to bounce on him little by little, just enough to make you see stars. it all feels too much yet not enough at the same time. logan's circles start to get sloppy as he approaches his high too.

"l-logan!" you squeal, heavy eyes trying to focus on his face. "wanna feel you..."

in a rush, logan picks up the pace, torturing your button with his thumb. a loud moan falls from your lips, trying to wiggle out of logan's grip as your orgasm washes over you with intense euphoria. logan growls in your neck from your tight fucking grip on his cock, pumping his load inside of your walls. some of it spilling out of you and drenching the sheets.

the two of you catch your breath in silence for a moment. your nails scratch his scalp softly while logan pulls you down to kiss him. after a second, you move back, smiling down at him in a way that makes him harden again.

"thought you were gonna show me how to ride?" you tease.

logan shoots you a cocky eyebrow raise before leaning back again, one hand on your hip and the other returning to his cigar on the night stand.

"alright, baby..." he chuckles, re-lighting the cigar and paying little attention to the roll of your hips. "let me see what you got."

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toxicanonymity · 2 months ago

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Power nap, 18+

PAIRING: Tommy Miller x f!Reader | LENGTH: 2100 words NOTES: inspired by this gif by @iamasaddie and this post by @millers-girl555 Tommy is single and thicc. You're neighbors. WARNINGS: 18+ unsafe sex, dirty talk, tummy grinding, daddy kink. Tommy Miller Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After splitting wood, Tommy calls it a day. He gets home out of breath, chest heaving, wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm. He opens the fridge and bends down with a grunt to reach for a tall can of beer and sighs as he stands back up.

He dwells in the cool air for a moment before closing the fridge door. Still sweating buckets, he rests back against the counter and rolls the cool can against his neck for a moment before cracking it open and taking a sip. Before he knows it, he's chugged nearly the whole can. Might as well finish it off and grab a fresh one before he leaves the kitchen.

He settles in on the couch, cracks open the fresh beer, and puts his feet up. Takes two big gulps before setting it down. He partly catches a belch in his mouth and after letting the air escape his cheeks, mumbles "scuse me," to no one. Once he's settled in, he doesn't wanna get up. He bridges his hips to empty his pockets, reaching into the ever tightening denim to take out his wallet and work keys.

That's better.

He unbuckles his belt while he's at it and scratches where it was digging into the under curve of his lower belly. He unbuttons his jeans. Much better.

He's real comfy now, and he's dead tired. So tired he falls asleep.

It's the kind of nap where you slip into a deep sleep right away and sleep like a baby. He doesn't even hear his neighbor knock on the door forty minutes later.

When he doesn't answer, you assume he isn't home. That's okay, you know where his spare key is, and you're supposed to leave the power drill he lent you on the table inside if he isn't there. You come in and shut the door behind you and hear something mumbled from the next room, and the click of metal.

Shit.

"It's me," you announce, and round the corner to see the barrel of Tommy's gun pointed at you. He's leaned forward, alert, legs spread wide. "I come in peace," you add.

"God damn," he sighs in relief and lowers the gun. "Shit, reckon i must'a dozed off..."

He puts the gun down, rubs his eyes, and relaxes back into the couch. His undershirt has ridden up, exposing a mouth-watering slice of his belly, garnished with his light happy trail and framed by his unbuckled belt and unzipped pants.

It isn't until he follows your eyes that he realizes the state he's in and tugs down his undershirt. The room is dim, it's just after sunset, but you can practically feel him blush as he mumbles something like, "Gimme a sec, darlin'," turning slightly away from you and leaning back to suck in and button his jeans.

Fuck, he's hot.

Something possesses you to say, "Don't."

He chuckles, still tugging at his jeans, and glances nervously at you. He has to do a double take at your face when he sees the look in your eye. He drops the denim

"It's a good look for you," you tease him, enjoying a surge of confidence from finding him in a vulnerable position.

You've had a crush on him for a while, and got the feeling he might be into you too, but he never made a move. You never had the courage to, either. Never felt like it was your place, until now.

You step forward and repeat, "Stop."

He abandons the chore of buttoning his jeans, instead leaving them unzipped as he slowly sinks back into the couch, watching you approach. His stomach rises and falls with his breath, heart racing from the scare of being woken up.

Your own heart is pounding with adrenaline as he watches you set the tool on his table. You're just gonna go for it. You reach for your own jeans and flick the button open.

His lips part, and his eyes are captivated as your pants drop to his living room floor.

He wonders if he's dreaming. He mutters your name, and it comes out as a question.

You pause with your thumbs hooked into your panties. “Tommy?” You respond.

“Careful now,” he warns.

“Why’s that?” You ask.

A clock on the wall seems to tick slower as you wait for his response.

He wets his bottom lip and says, “One more step, I’ll have you flat on that table.”

“Is that a promise?” You ask.

He chuckles and adjusts himself, easing into the dynamic. “Sounds like you wanna find out,” he says.

“Well, I’m in no hurry to,” you muse, and turn around, giving him a 360 view. You press your hands below your butt cheeks, giving him a lifted view, then let them drop.

He lets out a low whistle. “God damn, sugar.” He rubs himself over his jeans. “Look at all that ass…C’mere.”

You make him wait for it, treating him to a little strip tease. Heart racing despite your cool demeanor. Your hands run over your curves and you watch his eyes devour every inch of you. You rub yourself over your panties, and he moans out loud.

“Yeah, come to papa.”

Each tick of the clock, each pump of his heart, has more blood rushing to his loins, stiffening his cock with an aching need to be in you.

By the time you drop your panties, they’re soaked.

His gaze settles between your legs, where your hand glides down your mound, down, and your fingers slide through your slippery slit, bringing slick forward to your clit.

Without taking his eyes off your cunt, he pulls his boxers down, and his cock springs free, smacking heavily against his belly.

At a low volume, you tease, "Just like that, huh?"

And his eyes meet yours to answer, "what'd I tell ya?"

He squeezes his cock, then puts both hands on the couch to scoot forward and his belly swells forward, forcing his cock down and toward you, but no less stiff or aching with the change in position. He lifts his ass to pull down his jeans and boxers and kicks them aside. "C'mere," he commands.

You haven't even given him the titty show yet, but you obey and close the distance. Once you're in reach, he grabs the backs of your thighs, hurrying you into straddling him.

He takes off your shirt as soon as you're in his space and tosses it over to your pants on the floor. The tip of his cock nudges your mound as he takes your tit in his mouth and sucks your nipple. He pulls you closer against him and your hips seek pressure against his belly.

He moans into your tit and you grind against him, struck by an aching need when his weeping cock-head grazes your clit. You gasp and repeat the motion, with his fat tip peeking out between his lap and belly, rubbing against your throbbing clit with each rock of your hips.

He unlatches from your tit with a wet smack and breathes, “oh, fuck, i gotta have ya right here.” He flattens his back against the back of the sofa, stretching his middle out, making room for you. The apex of your folds, wet with slick, presses into his soft stomach as he holds his cock for you. The dripping mouth of your cunt finds his swollen, leaky tip. You sink down on his thick shaft, and he pulls you down with a moan, back still flattened against the sofa-back as though exhausted by sheer arousal.

His spine arches and he thrusts upward, fully seating himself in your warmth.

You throb and pant and whisper, "fuck," as your insides swell and sweat around his rock-hard girth. “Fuck, you're big,” you gush, full of his cock, mound pressed against his belly.

“Yeah, you like big Tommy?” He asks, Watching you darkly, hands on your hips as you ride him. His hips move under you, rocking his cock in your cunt. “Fuck, you can take it, too.”

You ride him slow, grinding against his middle.

“Yeah, take that cock,” he murmurs. “Take that big cock. Mmm…. Just like ya always wanted.” He bites his lip and his hands guide your rhythm. “Mm yeah,” he breathes, swollen shaft fully buried in your pussy. “Yeah, good girl.”

He begins to sit up a little, groaning “ohhh,” and holding your body against his for leverage. “Ugh,” his middle swells against yours as he pulls himself up, tensing his core, making his cock move inside you. “Yeah, good girl.”

With one massive arm wrapped around you, his other hand lifts your breast, feeding himself your nipple. “Mmm,” he moans into your breast and your walls flutter. You slot your fingers into his hair. He releases your breast and sighs, “Fuck, sugar…hang on for me. Hang on tight”

He rocks forward, nudging a special spot inside you as the power of his meaty quads forces him to his feet with a grunt. You wrap your legs around him and he carries you a few steps to the table before setting you down on the edge.

“Down,” his hand gently pushes your chest and you lean back on your elbows, admiring his solid form, glistening and heaving. His neck vein bulges. His eyes pan over your body. “Look at you, buck naked, legs spread… yeah,” he pants, and with his hands on your thighs, he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out deeper, making your head tilt back with a muttered, “Fuck.”

“That’s my girl,” he nods, staying seated fully inside, rocking his hips.

The rub of his paunch against your clit has your neck all tense, your brows knitting together, tension pulling in your gut, begging for release.

Thrust by thrust, he’s rougher, faster, his hair is damp. “Yeah,” he pants, “oh, yeah, c’mon baby, come on big Tommy’s cock.”

He leans forward and his gold chain swings as he fucks you. The table creaks with the rhythm.

Closer and closer, you whine with the tension pulling tight, tighter, so tight.

“Yeah, that’s right, c’mon,” he encourages, “oh fuck,” he breaths, “c’mon baby, milk daddy’s cock, take it baby, take it.”

Your spine arches and the tension snaps, “Fuck, daddy,” you whimper, “oh god,” clenching on his cock, relief tearing through you in waves, stinging your eyes with tears.

“There it is,” he pants, fucking you through it, then slams his hips forward and groans, “Ugghhh” as his cock throbs in your cunt. Each twitch of him is fully felt as your own climax wanes. He drains himself in you, then his eyes pan down your body, admiring the scene.

“How long we been neighbors?” he asks.

You let out a weak laugh and rest flat on your back, look up at the ceiling, catching your breath. “Long enough,” you answer.

“Yeah, I’ll say.” His cock slides out and he mutters, ”Oops,” to himself, then uses the tip of his cock to catch what’s trickling out of your cunt and push it back in.

“I was gonna spread those pretty legs one of these days,” he says as he pulls out again. “All the better you spread’em yourself though.” He chuckles with a slight smile. He sighs and looks at you with kind eyes, making sure you know he’s just being nasty.

You bite your lip and tilt your head, checking him out, then you close your legs as you sit up.

He puts on his boxers and picks up your clothes.

“Just like that,” you observe.

“Oh, you’re stayin’ over, by the way,” he clarifies. “But we gotta go see Joel first.” He looks at his watch. “While it’s still visting hours.”

“How’s he doing?” you ask.

“In good spirits,” Tommy says. “He’ll get a kick outta this.”

“Out of what?” you laugh.

“Me bringin’ ya by all fucked out,” he smiles to himself. “Said he’d fuck you himself if I didn’t get to it.”

Your breath hitches and your eyes widen.

“He’d prolly do it too,” Tommy says, and pulls his shirt over his head, and tugs it down over his stomach. “Don’t need him bustin’ any stitches though.”

When you’ve put your shirt on, he steps toward you and brushes your temple with his thumb as he admires your face. “Starvin’,” he mutters. “You eat yet?”

“No,” you answer.

“Alright, that’s stop number 2.” He helps you off the table.

“Just gonna take me all around jackson, all fucked out?” you ask.

“Yeah, pretend you don’t like it,” he says with a wink. "c'mon."

----

Bonus imagine 100 words

----

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please let me know <3333

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller smut #thicc!tommy miller #tommy miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #toxicanonymity ☠️#thicc tommy

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 2 years ago

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You were his. You were all fucking his. Your gorgeous smile, your beautiful body, your kind heart- it was all fucking his. And here you were, using him to pleasure yourself. It was a fucking dream, it had to be.

That was the only thought running through Simon Riley’s mind in that moment, as his eyes locked onto your figure. You had a death grip on his shoulders, your pretty nails digging into his skin through his shirt, surely leaving little marks Simon always fucking adored.

He watched as you ground your wet heat on his thigh, your head thrown back and mouth wide open. You let out soft whines, as your sensitive clit rubbed up against the fabric of Simon’s jeans.

Simon pulled your face down, desperate to kiss you, desperate to feel his lips against yours, desperate to taste you. He slotted his lips against yours, relishing in the soft mewl you let escape in his mouth.

Your nails found solace in his hair, your fingers twisting at the soft brown strands before digging them into his scalp. Simon groaned, his own hands perched on your hips, guiding your movements as you continued to grind against his thigh.

It all became too much, the taste of your sweet tongue against his, the soft moans you let loose into his mouth, the wetness pooling on his jeans from your soaked core, the feeling of your nails digging into his scalp.

Simon ripped his mouth away from you as the coil in his belly snapped, his cock twitching in his pants causing a spot of wetness to form on the crotch of his jeans. “Oh my fuck, fucking hell.”

You stopped your movements, your wet heat laying still on top of your lieutenants thigh. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked down at Simon. “Si? Are you okay?”

Simon’s eyes landed on his crotch, his cheeks burning red upon realizing he just came in his pants. Untouched.

“I..uh.. ‘m fine.” Simon muttered, unable to look at you. He was mortified, he’d never once had this happen to him before and he hadn’t a clue of what to do. Surely, surely you’d judge him.

You bit your lip softly, fully realizing what had just happened, and it made your heart race. You never realized the effect you had on your lieutenant, on your lover.

You sank to your knees, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs as you slowly moved to unbutton Simon’s jeans. You nearly had his pants off before his hand stopped you, causing you to look at him.

“Please, don’t. I uh…” Simon’s words trailed off as you slowly dragged your tongue along the wetness on his boxers. He had to bite back a moan as he watched your eyes roll back, your tongue continuing to lap at his arousal. “W-what are you doing?”

Simon had to remember how to breathe when you looked back up at him, your pretty fuckin’ eyes blown with lust, a small devious smile dancing on your lips. You pulled his cock out, biting your lip at how soaked it was, before dragging your tongue across the tip.

“I’m cleaning up my mess, sir.”

Surely, this was a fucking dream- but Simon never wanted to wake up from it.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #female reader

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whorelaud · 5 months ago

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OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (extra)

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f recieving), fingering, dirty talk, praise, slight overstimulation (?), pussy whipped rafe mhmm!!! disclaimer this is pure smut continuing ch 8! nothing too intense, js a small piece following the events. this can be read separately, it doesn't add nor change the plot, so feel free to skip over if you're uncomfortable!! not my best work but not my worst considering im in a big writing slump rn sighh >:( thank you for your patience, ill get started on ch 9 soon i pormise <3

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 08

“Let me take care of you.”

Flusteredness underestimates your emotions, insides stirring with giddiness you couldn’t comprehend into words. You wanted this, more than everything; it felt so right, there was no reason for you to risk it and decline such a tempting offer.

You shyly nodded your head, suppressing the sheepish smile dancing on your lips, suddenly feeling exposed under Rafe’s gaze. His hands freely roamed around your body, landing wherever his eyes desired, places he dreamed of touching.

“Lord, you’re beautiful.” He muffled out, littering feather-like kisses to your throat, then burying his nose in the crook of your neck as he took a whiff of your intoxicating scent. His teeth lightly grazed the sensitive skin, causing you to yelp, and accidentally brush over the hardon in his pants. “Fuckk– ‘need to be inside you.”

“Please.” You shuddered through a gasp, grinding down to chase after the pleasure, merely to be stopped by Rafe’s hold as he halted you in your spot.

His hands found the curve of your ass, squeezing the plush flesh hidden underneath the thin material of your shorts, using the gasp he earned out of you for granted to slip his hands beneath the fabric. He toyed with the lacey strings, digits practically shuddering over your skin, like an addict getting his hands on drugs for the first time.

“Such a pretty ass,” He grunted, scoffing as a moan escapes your parted lips. “Mhm, yeah baby, keep makin’ those pretty noises, lemme hear you.”

Your head landed in the crook of his neck, forehead resting against his shoulder when your hips stuttered in the process of rolling down, dying for Rafe to do something. Your vision grew blurry, mouth seeking the skin hidden beneath Rafe’s shirt, wanting nothing more than to appreciate him as much as he was, mark him for everyone to see, and know he’s yours.

Rafe eventually took action, tightening his hold around your ass as he stood to his feet, keeping you steady and in place. You gasped with disbelief, taken aback by the sudden movement, even more as he sweeps you around and softly throws you on the bed, causing you to land with a thud.

You positioned your elbows up, letting them support your body as Rafe used his index to spread your legs apart, creating enough space for him to squeeze through. He positioned his knee in between your thighs, hands caressing the delicate skin leading to your heat.

His fingers moved with a motive, driving you crazy with each time his cold digits brushed over your sensitive flesh, causing you to shudder from the touch. He lowered his head, just enough for you to catch glimpse of him from in between your legs.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, toying with the waistband of your shorts. “Need to taste you.”

Rafe tugged the material down a bit, just enough for the chilly air to hit your skin, smothering goosebumps across your sides. He leisurely pulled down your shorts, torturing you with the gesture, though that’s what he was aiming for.

With a game of tug and pull, he managed to get your shorts off, letting them slide down your knees, and bunch around your ankles. His gaze fixed on your panties, mouth salivating at the sight, as his head wandered with pure filth. He pressed his fingers to your heat through the thin cloth, causing you to jolt as he applied pressure, admiring the wet patch forming in your underwear.

Your face practically burst from heat, avoiding the latter’s gaze as his finger lapped at your folds, tracing them up and down your core with a purpose. Your mewls were silent, heaving the atmosphere, the sound like music to Rafe’s ears.

Rafe leaned forward, until his face levelled with the low of your stomach. He grasped the soft flesh in his hold, trailing wet kisses just beneath your belly button, leading all the way to your clothed folds, aching to have his mouth on you, feel his tongue swirl around your sensitive nub till you no longer could bear it.

He planted a kiss to your clit through the fabric, causing you to shudder in his arms when he repeated the action, your whines encouraging him to continue, pressing further until you were overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Rafe!” You arched into the touch, hips stuttering as Rafe pins you down to the bed. “Fuck, right there.”

“Yeah?” He angled his head down, nose brushing over your heat in the process, the sensation making your knees buckle as you strived to close your legs around his head. Rafe, sensing your next move, halted you before you could further continue, forcing your thighs back in place. “Keep your legs open, hmm? Sit back and be a good girl for me, doll.”

You desperately nodded your head, prying for Rafe to get the pink, lace panties off of you. And he did, detaching them off your hips, and letting them slide right off, revealing your achy cunt, wet and needy for him.

“Oh my fuck,” he hissed, taking a whiff of your alluring scent, suddenly feeling drunk on your pussy, even if he didn’t get a taste of you yet. “Could you get any more perfect?”

He fingered at your hole, collecting the sticky substance off, until it was coating two of his digits. He dragged his long fingers through your folds, gliding them up and down, till your whole pussy was coated with your juices.

“So wet for me,” Rafe muttered, bringing his fingers to his parted lips. He inserted them inside, instantly savoring the taste of your pussy on his tongue, as his mouth pooled with spit. “You taste so fuckin’ good, baby.”

You whined at that, nearly screaming when he brought his fingers back to your sensitive nub, rolling it in between his fingers as he bent down again, this time to mouth at your heat. He licked a stripe of your cunt, dragging his tongue up your hole, all the way to your clit, yet overwhelmed with the pleasure of his fingers.

Rafe flicked his tongue over your clit, pressing your hips down with the hand to your stomach, amused by how overstimulated you grew, unable to comprehend normal words out. You’ve done this before, a few times to be exact, however, Rafe knew how to make you crumble, seeking your sensitive spot with his mouth, using every ounce of energy in his body to pleasure you.

And fuck, did it feel good. It made up for all the longing and lust you’ve been pushing down, finally able to do something about it; and screwing all your problems.

Your body jolted with pleasure, hands digging to the skin around your shoulders as he mouthed at your heat, sucking and nibbling on your nub, long fingers gliding up and down your folds, just where you needed them.

Without a warning, he slid one of his fingers inside your hole, easily entering with how wet you were, pussy drenched with your juices. He pumped it in and out of your entrance, lining the second one before he leisurely increased the pace, fingers coating with your arousal.

Your stomach twisted into a knot, lips gaping in pornographic moans that you failed to suppress from exiting your throat. That only inspired Rafe to fasten the movement of his tongue, swirling from your clit down to your entrance. He fucked your hole with his tongue, nose lightly digging to your core as he bobbed his head up and down, while still pumping his fingers in and out.

Words couldn’t describe the emotions you were experiencing. It almost felt euphoric, you never wanted it to stop, climax building as Rafe continues lapping at your cunt with his mouth. Rafe oughted to make you feel good, chasing after your pleasure, not a thought behind his eyes as he ate you out like a man starved.

“Come for me, pretty girl.” He cooed, not stopping what he was up to. The words practically flew past your ears, mind going blank as your legs trembled, announcing your orgasm.

Rafe’s tongue was yet to stop, walking you through your climax, until you grew sensitive to the fraction of his tongue constantly flicking at your clit. Your eyes forced shut, sweat forming around your body, coating your skin with a layer of afterglow. Rafe moved away from your heat, falling mesmerized the moment his gaze landed on you.

His cock twitched in his pants, vision fogging with haze. You looked surreal, out of the world, like an angel who spawned on earth. He almost felt bad for breathing the same air as you, being in your presence and ever getting a chance to do this, please you till you’re cumming on his tongue.

You shied away from the touch, fluttering your eyes up at the latter, whose lips tugging into a coy smile at your action. “Why are you staring?”

“No reason,” he snorted, bringing his face close to yours. His nose brushed over yours, not giving you a chance to speak before he captured your lips in an eager kiss, the taste of your arousal on his tongue invading your mouth. He smiled into the kiss, pulling away when you shoved his shoulder. “Was that good?”

“Hmm…” you trailed off, pretending to think. “Could be better.”

Lie.

“You think so?” His eyebrows cocked in a teasing manner, lips tugging into a smile. “Should we go for another round?”

“One’s enough!” You stopped him before he could bend down, your statement earning a chuckle out of him. “Stop messin’ around!”

“Sorry,” he snickered, voice barely above a whisper. The smile on his face quickly faded, gaze travelling down to your hand, as it slowly caressed up his thigh, halting just over his crotch. He hushed out your name, breath shuddering as you palmed his hardon through his pants, grasping his length in your hold. “Such a brat, can’t wait to have my dick inside you, huh?”

“Take it off,” you whined in response to the snarky comment, striving to unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants, inching back just enough for him to get them off, leaving him in his boxers. You gulped at the sight of his underwear, aching to take it off, as well as his shirt. “The shirt too.”

Rafe stifled out a teasing laugh, sliding the shirt off his head, and over his arms, letting it fall to the floor. Your gaze immediately landed on his torso, a breath knocking out of your chest at the scene. His broad chest was on full display, just for you to stare, without having to look away, afraid others might catch you practically undressing him with your eyes.

The boy pushed you back on the bed, letting your back collide with the mattress in a soft thud. He removed the lock of hair blocking your vision, leaning down to plant a kiss to your lips. It was soft, deliberate, lasted a few seconds before the latter moved away. You cupped his calloused jaw, almost choking on air while he balanced himself on his knees, not breaking eye contact as he freed himself from his boxers, not long before he tossed them to the floor.

Your breath hitched, gaze leisurely trailing down to his cock, as pre-cum glistened at the slit, coating it with a glossy layer that had you salivating at the mouth. Rafe scooted himself closer to you, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance, groaning as it got buried in your folds.

Pleasure underestimates what you were feeling. Hell, you were a wreck of emotions, far too gone to comprehend your surroundings, nor did you care for such facts.

He works his way in smoothly but deliberately, thrusts gentle, afraid he’d hurt you if he was rough. That, of course, had you testing your patience, as you wiggled down on his cock, urging him to push his throbbing length inside you.

And he did, muffling out a whimper as he slams his hips into your soaked cunt, making you arch your back at the gesture. His cock filled your hole, coating every corner of your walls, leaving no space for you to think.

“Look at you,” he whispered, grinding his hips down, as his fingers ghosted the curve of your waist, face mere inches away. “Taking me so well, such a good girl f’me, hmm, y’like that I’m filling your pathetic, needy hole?”

“Rafeee,” you mewled out, throwing your bad back as he continued thrusting his cock inside you, the collision creating a squelching sound. “Please, please, yes!”

“Mhm, you like that?” He muffled in between kisses, hand cupping your tits. He rolled your nipple in between his fingers, causing it to harden in his hold, goosebumps immediately breaking out across your chest. “Wanna fuck you stupid, you don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting for this, the amount of times I held back each time you’d walk around in those sleeping shorts.”

Your moans lulled pathetic, speaking louder than you can put into words. Rafe's cock felt amazing inside you, thrusting in and out with need and despair, that it didn’t take long for your arousal to build up yet again, though mere minutes passed regarding your previous orgasm.

Rafe littered soft kisses to your lips, thrusts growing fast and sloppy as he buried himself inside you, drunk on your pussy, and the sensation of your hole clenching around his cock. His breaths fell heavy, filling the air as well as your whines, unable to contain them any longer.

“So close,” he grunted, announcing his climax. “Come for me, sweet doll.”

Your nails dug to his shoulders, moans increasing in volume as your orgasm made its approach, as Rafe continued pumping his cock inside your sloppy cunt, giving him easy access to your hole, and the ability to pleasure you.

The nickname drove you over the edge, coming undone with a rough, wet thrust, relaxing in the latter’s arms as he continued fucking you, pace fastening with each time he grinded his hips down.

It wasn’t long before Rafe was coming, loading your cunt as his cock kissed your cervix with one last slam to his hips, painting your walls white with his sperm, as the warmness of the sticky substance filled your insides, causing a ragged sigh of relief to escape your throat.

Rafe nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning over the flesh, as he proceeded to come down from his high. A chuckle forced its way out your parted lips, earning the boy’s attention as he perked up, gaze locking with yours.

“What?” He asked, addressing you with the question. “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know,” you continued chuckling, “This is jus’ silly.”

“That’s the first thing you say after we just had sex?” He mumbled in disbelief, head cocking to the side.

“What do you want me to say?!” You argued, wrapping your arms around his neck, and using the pressure of the touch to force him down, till your lips connected with his in a soft kiss, one different from your previous ones today.

“Thank you,” you whispered, heat flushing your face. “You don’t understand how much everything you do means to me.”

The corner of Rafe’s lips twitched into a smile, heart melting to pieces.

Yeah, this was more than worth getting beaten to a pulp by Ryan.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x brat!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smau #rafe cameron social media au #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe cameron fluff #obx rafe cameron #drew starkey

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jacksabbotts · 24 days ago

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spencer reid x fem!bsf!reader tw .' suggestive themes , nsfw , male masturbation , somnophilia-adjacent? ( mdi 18+ )

masterlist | series masterlist | dividers by @cafekitsune | join the taglist | previous part

imagine sharing a bed with bsf!spence ( part two )

he knows he should’ve moved. should’ve peeled you off of him, made a run for the bathroom, begged the hotel faucet to save him with a cold blast of clarity.

because it wasn’t just the grinding anymore.

it was the breathless little whimper you gave next, the way your knee nudged his cock—direct, intentional or not, he didn’t know—but it knocked the air right out of his lungs.

but instead, he stayed frozen beneath you, body tense, cock twitching, every cell in his body humming with electricity.

'spence,' you murmured again, and god help him, he swore you sounded wrecked. needy. sweet little gasps escaping you with each slow, subtle rock of your hips.

his fist clenched the sheet at his side.

don’t do it. don’t do it. don’t—

you whimpered again. your knee pressed harder into his cock, and spencer had to bit back a broken groan, teeth sinking into the meat of his bottom lip so hard he swore he tasted blood.

fuck it.

his free hand slid under the blanket, slow and shameful. he didn’t grab himself right away—he couldn’t. not yet. he hovered, palm flat on his lower stomach, fingers twitching, like even his own body was hesitant to cross the final line. what little strength he had left, he used to try and stop himself from masturbating right next to you.

but then you shifted again—grinding into his thigh, your breath hitching—and that was it.

he pushed his hand from where it rested on his stomach and pushed it under the elastic band of his flannel pajama pants. he wrapped his hand around himself.

his breath stuttered out, sharp and strangled, lips parted as he squeezed the aching length of his cock. he stroked slow. shamefully slow and loose. because anything faster or harder and he was going to lose it immediately.

you moaned again—his fucking name. barely audible, muffled into his collarbone, but it shook him to his core. the rhythm of your grinding had deepened, hips pressing with more certainty, like your dream-self was chasing something. and he could feel the heat of you through the thin fabric of his pants, your slick soaking through your thin silk sleep shorts. onto him.

he stifled a groan in his throat, pressing the heel of his palm against his cock before resuming his strokes. still slow. still careful. still light.

every inch of movement made him tremble. every drag of skin, every pulse in his palm, pushed him closer to the edge.

this was so wrong. you were asleep, he thought.

but fuck, you felt so good. your body soft and pliant against his, voice a symphony of breathy, half-spoken desires. you were on him. and if your moans could attest to anything, you were dreaming about him.

god! he hoped you were.

he could feel it happening. his balls tightening. his grip faltering. his thighs trembling. he was getting close. you moaned again—a broken, blissed-out sound—and just as your hips gave one final desperate rut into his leg, spencer came.

hard.

and embarrassingly fast. he prayed to what ever high power there was that you could not witness how fast he had come in his pajama pants.

white-hot pleasure tore through him as he spilled into his fist, jaw clenched around a grunt, chest rising fast with the effort of holding back any sound louder than a breath. his whole body tensed beneath you, and he had to hold his breath to keep from collapsing into the moment.

you sighed contentedly against him.

and then stilled.

and that’s when it hit him—he had just come in his pants. thinking about you. next to you. while you were unconscious.

his heart was racing. his face was burning. his hand was sticky. his pajamas were ruined. and he—

'oh my god,' he whispered.

without waking you, he slid out from under your limbs—carefully, gently, like defusing a bomb. you gave a small sigh, shifting just enough to let him go, and spencer held his breath the whole time, heart threatening to leap straight out of his throat.

thank the science gods, he made it with out startling you from your scandalous dream.

he grabbed his go bag with trembling hands and bolted to the bathroom like the walls themselves might start whispering his sins aloud.

the bathroom light flicked on.

the door shut.

lock engaged.

and that’s when your eyes fluttered open.

blinking into the dark, you reached out, hand brushing cold sheets. Your brows furrowed. it took a moment for your mind to catch up, body still warm, slick, thrumming faintly from whatever dream had held you captive.

you sat up slowly, blinking at the dim red glow of the bedside clock.

3:49 am

your mouth tasted like sleep. your thoughts like static. you rubbed your face and glanced at the empty space beside you, brows pinching in confusion.

'spence?' you whispered, voice raspy.

no answer.

but then, from the other side of the door—water running. the bathroom fan humming faintly.

you blinked again, then shrugged, already flopping back into bed, tugging the covers up to your chin. your legs still felt strange. heavy. tingling.

you fell asleep again within seconds, none the wiser.

and spencer? spencer gripped the bathroom sink so hard his knuckles whitened, trying to remember how to breathe.

trying not to imagine how sweet your moan had sounded when you said his name.

the shower was already running. cold water, pneumonia be damned. frankly, he knew thats what he deserved it.

okay. okay. okay. just—breathe. don’t think. don’t panic.

which, of course, meant he was thinking and panicking.

his pajama pants were still wet. the patch on his thigh, the place you had focused all your attention, wet and sticky. he could feel the smear of precum sticking to the fabric, the twitch of his cock against it, angry and aching and desperate for more relief. still half-hard and pulsing from the way you had rutted into him one last time before he had the self control to pull away— and like a goddamn dream come true no less.

a nuclear-level sex crime all at once.

you didn’t do anything, spencer. she didn’t know. she was asleep. it’s not like you—

his eyes flicked up to the mirror. he looked like sin.

sweaty curls. pink cheeks. pupils blown wide with arousal and guilt.

jesus christ. she’s your best friend, you fucking idiot. she trusts you, he thought.

but that wasn’t the worst part.

the worst part was the way you’d said his name.

spence. over and over, you had said it. he had though the first time that it was a mistake, that you were saying some other persons name that had just sounded similar to his own. but alas the second time you'd let it slip past your lips in a whispery moan, spencer had heard it loud and clear.

it hadn’t been casual. it hadn’t been platonic. it had been needy. wrecked. like a prayer said through a moan. a sound he didn’t even know he’d been dying to hear until it came rolling off your tongue in a dream you didn’t even remember.

he hadn’t made you say it. hadn’t asked. hadn’t even touched you for fucks sakes.

so why does it feel so fucking wrong?

his heart stuttered in his chest. then beat faster. and faster. his cock twitched again, this time more insistent. throbbing as if he didn't just come to the sound of your voice ( and probably harder than he ever had before ).

no. no, don’t. you’re not going to—

but then the memory flickered again.

your hips rocking against him. your slick heat soaking into his leg. your lips on his neck. your voice, helpless and wrecked and whispering his name like it meant something.

spence.

it was like a fucking drug and there was nothing he could do once you entered his system.

and that was it.

he dropped his head with a hiss and gritted his teeth as his hand slid down for the second time in twenty minutes, fingers curling around the length of himself through the damp fabric.

'just once more, i promise. just get it out.'

he would hate himself in the morning.

but for now?

now, all he could think about was the weight of you tangled around him, the soft curve of your lips against his throat, and the sinful, sacred sound of your moan in the dark.

THE END

🏷️. @maxiismp | @theburgundyonmytshirt1989 | @cel070321 | join the taglist

#fem!bsf!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader

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luslushearth · 7 months ago

Text

Hate sex with Sunday…. (Placed before he becomes harmonious or whatever)

Warnings: Afab reader, overstimulation, degrading, unprotected, creampie, Reader is really vulgar/bratty, Marking

The silent serenity of the room is disturbed by pants, and loud squelches of your growing lust splattering through the air. The only thing muffling your moans is a gloved hand engulfing your lips. Unfortunately for Sunday, you are purposefully trying to be heard by the entirety of Penaconys dreaming visitors. Sometimes, he seems to forget just how much of a handful you are…

You bite his gloved hand, the man pounding into your pussy hissing in pain. Yet, each thrust continues its relentless pace, only slowing to allow him words, an insult (though he calls them ‘critiques’) for you.

“You… I truly… do dislike you.”

“Aww… Haa… Seems like your dick loves me though.” You’re immediately silenced when Sunday burrows your body into the matress, hitting that spot inside you when he thrusts at a particular angle. “Ah…! S-see…? Your dick really does love— Oh…!” Sundays finger works diligently on stimulating your clit, the cloth fabric of his gloves only furthering the sensation. “Maybe….! Maybe not me… But you’re really obsessed with my— Haahh… My— Mm..!” You don’t even have the chance to finish your sentence, Sundays lips finding refuge on yours.

He’s… Never done that before…

You moan into his lips, his thumb still grinding itself into your bud while his other hand plays with your tit, rolling the nub between his fingers.

When you pull away for air, you whisper his name, attempting to ask what it is he’s doing, but you’re stopped again when he dives into your mouth, spit exchanging with each movement. You can feel yourself approaching climax, much earlier than you bet to him you would. Which is horrible, because, that means you’ll essentially be a cocksleeve for him whenever he wishes for the next few months.

He separates his lips from you, smiling at the way a thick trail of saliva connects you two, spit trailing off the side of your mouth. It’s a thrilling site, one that makes him hit that spot in your walls even faster than before. His wings flap to the side of your head, cutting off your vision from anything else but him.

“You… Haah… You truly are a temptress.” All it takes is a finally snap of his hips and your hand flies up to his head, gripping his hair as your walls flutter around his length. Despite your blissful climax, he continues his ministrations slowly even as you cum, further serving your rapture. “It’s why I dislike you so.”

You’re not sure why he hates you so much, but you have no time to think about it, especially when he props himself up. He looks down at your dazed face, a smirk coating his lips. All too familiar.

“Wha… Give me some time to recover you beast— Ahh.. Fuck…!”

“It’s not fair if only you have release. Besides… Haa… You’ve survived… more than one hnngh, haven’t you?” … He plans to wreck the absolute hell out of you. He leans down to your ear, a husky voice escaping him, “You don’t deserve relaxation on the seventh day, so atone for your transgressions.” He props your legs above his shoulder, essentially preparing you to become his own personal cum dump.

“Sunday you little bastard—! Nghh…!” You won’t admit it him, you never will, but that was so hot. Yet again, he might know you think it, especially with the way your eyes roll back in pleasure, the idea of him emptying his seed furthering you thirst.

“I hope you remember that… Haah… promise… I prefer pe… pests at least remain orderly…” his thrusts grow sloppy, words slurring, a sign he’s close. In a last ditch effort of revenge, you laugh at him, tightening harder. You’ll shred his dignity too, even if you have to surrender your own.

He glares at your face, that sneer breaking when he can feel himself coming close, your second climax quickly reproaching. After a few more thrusts, he empties himself, all of himself into your body, not daring to pull out. In turn, your flutter around him once again, squirting at his abdomen, wetting expensive clothes. He allows himself to plug your hole, your fingers brushing through his hair while his face finds refuge in your neck.

“Aww, my favorite sight… the all famed Sunday pathetically weeping at getting his dick wet~ Now, what time do you want me out of here hm?”

“Did an imp like you really believe us to be done?” His hand reaches back to your hips, his grip tightening.

“… What?”

…

You lay on the side of the bed, glaring at the culprit of your current bed ridden state. He doesn’t return the sentiment, a false face of pleasantries returning your feelings.

“I hate you Sunday, whatever your last name is.”

“Hate is strong, I prefer dislike. Take my feelings for you.” He continues to smile even when you swat your hand at him, an attempt to kick him out of the bed.

“Yeah? Well you must’ve really like that huh?! Look at me you bastard!” You lift up the blanket, pointing at your pussy that drips with the multitudes of load he spent inside of you. At some point you lost count, but you know for sure it was more than 7. “I mean, how could someone cum that fucking much?!” He doesn’t answer, tilting his head, beaming. “I’m not even gonna start on all these bites you freak.”

“I see, so you’re saying you’re much to weak to go again?”

You pause. He’s doubting you.

“I could do it again.”

“Are you sure? My, I wouldn’t want to hurt such a frail being—“

“I can fuck you again Sunday, stop being—!” He’s already on you as quick as the words left your throat, your legs wrapping around his hips. He’s lucked out, this part of the dreamscape is emptier than usual at this time.

Unfortunately, you seem to be quite the opposite… You’ve fallen for Sundays tricks once more. Then again, the feeling of his dick rearranging your guts, isn’t as bad as you tell him it is.

#hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #sunday smut #sunday x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #smut #my writing ✧

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he-calls-me-kitten · 2 years ago

Text

Dirty Dozen

GN! MC x Pervert OM! Characters

Pervert! Lucifer who pretends to be more drunk than he actually is so he can lean on you when you escort to his room, pulling you into his arms and refusing to let go when you reach his bed. Even if his hands wander inside your clothes, you can't really hold it against him.

Pervert! Mammon who tries to do his best in tests and classes, cause he recalls every praise you give him while jerking off. And when you sit on the sofa, he sits on the ground leaning on your thighs thinking of you sitting on his face.

Pervert! Levi who designs the skimpiest possible cosplay outfits for you and only changing it after he's sees it on you himself. He asks you to twirl around or bend over even when you already feel exposed, brushing his knuckles against your bare skin to take measurements.

Pervert! Satan who sometimes recommends you the most erotic books he owns and loves watching your face change shades and your thighs squirm together with every page. He sometimes whispers the characters lines into your ear so he can hear every subtle gasp or moan.

Pervert! Asmo who asks to help him film couple thirst trap videos and messing up on purpose to hold you in risque places or even press kisses as the 'challenge' requires. Will deliberately put the same perfume he's wearing on you, so it seems like you spent last night in his room.

Pervert! Beel who likes to feed you big mouthfuls of food and thinks its so cute the way you still manage to fit it in your mouth. He loves holding hands with you, his large ones completely encasing your smaller ones - it reminded him how tiny and cute you'd look writhing underneath his large form.

Pervert! Belphie who watches you sleep during sleepovers while he implants sex dreams in your head using his powers. He watches you whimper and twitch with your hands between your legs as he ruts into his pillow right next to you.

Pervert! Solomon who loves to put you in accidental situations where you simply have to rely on him, especially in close proximity. The Box of Truth was just the beginning with your chest pressed up tightly against his, now he's secretly planning a trap where you both have to fuck a few times to escape.

Pervert! Simeon who secretly loses his mind every time your hands touch his exposed bare skin and looks for excuses for you to do it. Once on a dare, you had wrapped your arms around his waist and playfully bit his shoulders, and now he jerks off to it once every week.

Pervert! Diavolo who likes to seat you on his lap to help him work, feeling the softness of your cute little ass against his groin. Sometimes he'll grind against you subconsciously and then excuse it saying he's just trying to make sure you're not bored while he's thinking of ravaging you at his very desk.

Pervert! Barbatos who is just desperate to worship your body and give you more pleasure than you can handle. He is already so esctatic when you allow him to massage your back, now only if you'd let him strip you down one day.

Pervert! Thirteen who likes seeing you caught up in her traps and beg for rescue. You look so adorable pouting and huffing like that, struggling to escape as she runs an idle finger over your clothes, being a little tease.

#obey me smut #obey me solomon #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me thirteen

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sushirrrry · 1 month ago

Note

you should do a blurb about how y/n is in her head during sex and she has to safeword out and there’s a little bit of angst with her and it just gets all fluffy at the end because he just wants to care for her ekakakzjakjskajsjsj

cw: explicit sex (m/f), explicit language, oral sex (f receiving), use of safe word, unwanted sex mention word count: 3979

breathe.

The actions had started slow—like it always did with Harry. The wonderous game of chess, moving your dominance, letting him give and take.

The two of you were curled together on the couch, bare legs brushing from time to time, your fingers idly tracing the veins in his forearm while his thumb circled your knee almost like his fingertips were trying to memorize you.

You were both a little buzzed from the wine that you had chosen to have for dinner, from the closeness, from the kind of long, winding conversation that peeled back old layers.

He was laughing at something you said, and then the air shifted almost suddenly. It was a pause, and then a look. It was almost like neither of you had to say anything to identify that there had been such a palpable connection that neither of you could understand.

It was electrifying to know that there was a person that could sense the rage that settled between your thighs, knowing that there had been a shift in energy.

And then, his lips were on yours; it was slow and certain at first, his fingers already sliding to your neck, his palm warm against your pulse as you felt it heighten just at the feeling of his breath along your lips.

He always kissed like he had all the time in the world, like nothing else existed but the way your mouth parted for him and the soft noise you made when he tilted your chin just right.

It was mesmerizing to you how he could hypnotize your senses to follow in his every move.

A short mewl escaped past your lips when he pulled you into his lap, grinding up against the thick line of him beneath his sweats. The friction made you dizzy. You weren’t even undressed yet, but the way his hands were roaming, hungry and familiar, had you clenching already. You remembered how he whispered, “Bedroom, baby. Let me have you properly.”

That was the thing with you and him – it was never proper.

It was usually dirty. Filthy, even.

There were moments when you both realized what you had done and wondered how your rage and need for one another had led you to that moment. The sweat, the words, the complete undoing of yourself and him. You loved looking at the small bruises left on your thighs from where his mouth bit or his fingers dug.

The foreplay had been a fever dream. He was so focused. His mouth had spent forever at your throat, your chest, between your legs—licking and sucking until your thighs were trembling, until your toes curled against the sheets. He kissed your body like it was the holy path; desperate for every inch, every tenderness.

When he licked between your folds, you gasped loud enough to echo off the walls in the small bedroom that he called his.

“Yeah, there,” he whispered against you, his voice gravel and velvet as the hotness of his breath bounced off of your skin. “So fucking sweet for me, aren’t you, my girl? You know I’d spend hours here, baby, just like this.”

His hands spread your legs wider, thumbs digging into your thighs as he buried his face deeper, his tongue practically diving into the sweetness of your core. The slow circles of his tongue were maddening—too good, too steady. You were soaked – practically writhing. He flicked his tongue against your clit, then flattened it, then sucked softly until you whimpered out in a way that drove his prey drive.

Harry spit directly on your clit, eyes dragging back up to you for a reaction more than anything.

“Pretty girls have the sweetest pussy,” his tongue flattened against your clit, humming softly to electrify the sensation. He took in a deep breath, the sight of his golden green eyes were heavy on your attention. “And you're the prettiest girl. in the world”

You felt heat building in you like it always did—molten, pressurized like it had been building up to a climax point. But tonight, there was something else– it was a flicker of tightness in your chest. The thought that you needed to come quickly, that you needed to give him what he wanted.

You tried to push it down. Let yourself get lost in the way he devoured you, because that usually worked to some degree. You just needed to think less, and act more.

But then he added fingers—two sliding inside, just how you liked, and the stretch hit different. You moaned, because it felt good, but your body tensed at the actions unmistakenly. He didn’t notice at first, too busy curling them just right to hit that spot that he knew would get you there, murmuring praise between strokes as his fingers grew slick.

And then he'd moved up your body again, licking his lips like he’d tasted something divine, exotic.

You trusted him – you always did, of course you did.

You were panting when he settled over you, his hands heavy on your hips, the head of his cock nudging between your folds as he watched it dragging slow and teasing through the slick he’d coaxed out of you. But instead of pressing in, he leaned down and said into your ear:

“Turn over,” he said, voice all honey and smoke that laced around every single nerve ending. “Want to fuck you into this mattress.”

Buring your face in the pillow, you had willed yourself to just feel—to let go, to ride it out—but the air in your lungs was growing thin as you tried to relax and remember the moment. You try to remember the warmth and comfort this man brought you; all of the memories of satisfaction. It felt so far away as you tried to push those negative thoughts away, only focusing on the now.

Once on your stomach, the feeling of his hands spreading your ass, cock hard and hot against your entrance was almost enough to have you forget. It was almost enough to have you spouting nonsense that wouldn’t make sense later once you thought about it. The tip of his cock played in the wetness of your core, his fingers pushing it past inside just a moment to tease. Your ass sat upwards as he used his hand to spread you open further.

There were many points when you dreamed of having him everywhere – filling you up in each hole to make you full. They were filthy thoughts, absolutely sinning.

“Color?” His voice was raspy and almost done with the day before he looked around to make sure that you were listening to him.

You exhaled, heart racing as you swallowed down your decency. “Green.”

His hand fisted in your hair—not to hurt, just to pull your head gently to the side. His teeth scraped over your shoulder, his voice lower now. “Need you to say it again.”

“Green,” you gasped at the feeling of his hand wrapped around your hair like a ponytail, pulling you backwards just enough to meet his face. “Fuck—please.”

Then, he pushed in deep without much more of a warning.

The first stretch of his cock always made your breath hitch, but tonight it felt… sharper. There wasn’t a lot of prep, but sometimes that gave you the highest pleasure. You weren’t ready – emotionally, especially. You were wet, but something about the angle, the pressure, the pace—he didn’t give you time to adjust before he started moving. You usually thrived off the feeling of a bit of tightness that elicited some pain, it egged you on.

You were both so comfortable with one another that this felt like he thought you could take it. You knew he wanted to overwhelm you the way you usually liked, just on the edge of too much.

Green meant go.

But your body wasn’t meeting him there, and you could feel the reaction your body had on the explicit roughness that Harry possessed as his hips met your spread ass, cock buried deep within you. Harry knew what it meant to be deep inside you; it was truly a feeling you couldn't describe to anyone; the angle he knew to hit made your eyes roll back in your head when you were both on your A-game.

Tonight, your legs shook, but not with pleasure. You pressed your cheek to the pillow, trying to breathe through it, to like it and to exhilarate you. To tell yourself it was just a lot because you were so turned on, not because something was wrong.

Mostly, you didn’t know why something could have been wrong. He had done nothing wrong.

But then his hand came down on your ass in a sharp slap. You flinched at that, visible to him when you didn’t moan or groan or make any reaction. The reaction that came through with a hint of a sob that made you flinch.

“Baby?” he paused, breathing hard. He completely stilled for a moment; you couldn’t see his face, but you could imagine that his sight had gone a bit blurry.

“Keep going – green.” You mustered out, almost slurring at the way that you tried to lie. He couldn’t see your reaction; you kept it that way.

He growled and grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back, holding you down against the linen sheets. His cock pushed deeper, grinding over that spot that usually made you sob with an ache so deep you would orgasm just from that —but tonight it made your stomach turn.

The sound of his hips pounding into your skin, each thrust louder and louder as he found a steady rhythm to wreck you.

You bit on your lip with a ferocity that may split it, and fought the urge to cry.

Then he said it—words you usually loved: “You’re mine tonight. You’re gonna take it, yeah? Gonna be good – fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good tonight, angel.”

And the tears came right out of the corner of your eyes, streaming down your nose as you breathed in and the weight of him felt overwhelming.

It was just like that. You weren’t even sure why.

Your chest cinched like a belt had been tightened around your ribs. You couldn't breathe, couldn’t focus, couldn’t answer him. And then you heard yourself say it—not a shout, not a sob, just a whisper that felt like breaking glass:

“Red.”

Everything stopped. The only thing that you could hear was the sound of breathing and you weren’t even sure if it was you or him.

The grip on your wrists disappeared. His cock slipped free from your body. The weight of him lifted instantly which made you take in a deep breath. And then you were flipped so gently onto your back, his face hovering above yours, wrecked with worry.

You had never gotten to a point where either of you clearly stated red. It meant a break in the fantasy, back to a reality where either of you felt unsafe, felt the need to stop for a moment.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, are you okay?” His hands hovered but didn’t touch you; he sat on one side of your leg as his eyes traveled around you to sense the pain that you were exhilarating physically and emotionally. “Breathe. Talk to me. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

“I—I’m—” But your voice broke, almost like a levy. The tears came harder, hot and silent down your cheeks as you felt the breathing start to sob in a way that hadn’t felt natural before.

“Oh, angel.” His own face broke, panic blooming into devastation. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t - I thought—fuck, I thought you liked it. You said green. I should’ve checked again. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, trying to sit up, but your limbs felt like lead as you pushed against the bedframe and shook the mattress. Your fingers wiped at your eyes as you tried to stop the tears from flowing.

He moved first, reaching for the blanket to drape around your shoulders before carefully sitting beside you, still giving you space, his hand out but not touching unless you said yes.

“I got scared to stop,” you choked out. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want to stop you—but it didn’t feel right. I was trying to stay in it, and then you grabbed my wrists and I just… I couldn’t anymore. I didn’t feel like me.”

Harry’s eyes softened at your words, fits of worry still laced within him, but he needed to keep his distance. He nodded slowly, then reached for your hand, fingers dancing along yours to try and invite himself back towards you. You let him – you felt worse that you had made him scared. His fingers were warm and trembling, lacing through yours.

“I’m proud of you for saying red,” he whispered, he nodded as he continued to stare. “That was the bravest thing you could’ve done. You didn’t ruin anything. Okay?”

The prompt of his words made you nod just slightly to continue, “You just showed me that you trust me. And that means everything.”

He leaned in then, his forehead against yours, your breath mingling in the quiet.

“I love you,” he said, the solidarity of the three words was a promise that both of you kept. But tonight, you felt it – really felt it, like you had never before. There were moments when you knew that he loved you, but in the pain, or around it, there had never been a moment so clear to you that his love was fluid and certain.

A sob broke in your throat, and he pulled you into his arms. And you let him.

You buried your face into his chest and let yourself be held, blanketed in the scent of his skin and the weight of his arms, the steady beat of his heart. He kissed the crown of your head and murmured, “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

You stayed wrapped in his arms until your tears slowed. He didn’t rush you—just rocked you gently, rubbing circles into your back with one warm hand while the other cradled the back of your head like something fragile.

When you finally lifted your face, he cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away the dampness.

“Baby, can you tell me what happened?” You could tell that he had started to blame himself – did he push too far? Did he not understand what you needed? Was it just way too much? You hadn’t really known the answer yourself, but as you started to feel yourself calm down, you took a deep breath.

“I-I don’t know,” You shook your head, sniffling, “I-I think, I mean, I think I just… I just don’t know. It wasn’t you at all, I promise,” You turned your eyes up to him, licking your lips, “I swear. I-I don’t know, I just didn’t want you to be mad, but I just think I don’t feel like myself right now.”

It was almost magic, your words. He started to feel lighter, like he could breathe on his own knowing that he hadn’t hurt you, and that you wanted to stay close to him. The reality was, he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary; usually, this would have been a night to remember. A night to let your inner demons live on the sheets, and base themselves in your memories.

But, now, you were wrapped in a tear-stained blanket, leaning against him without a happy ending in sight.

“Can I do something for you?” he asked softly. “Something to help?”

You nodded, throat tight. You weren’t sure what you wanted, or what he could provide you, so you didn’t tell him what you needed. Instead, you allowed him to search for what he knew of you. You heard his inhale, feeling his arms wrapped around you in a warmth that you couldn’t explain.

“I’ll run you a bath, hm?” his hand rubbed against your arm “Just sit here, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

He kissed your forehead before slipping off the bed. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, knees drawn up to your chest, still trying to slow your breathing.

You heard him in the bathroom—water turning on, cabinet drawers opening, the soft metallic clink of the lighter he kept in the drawer for the candles that lit along the edge of the tub. When he returned a few minutes later, his eyes went straight to yours; his torso was long, shorts hanging on his hips in a way that felt like a sin that you couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“You want to come sit with me in there? I’ve got warm towels, your lavender salts, a candle lit,” He turned back to you after naming off his list, “I can make you some tea, if you’d like.”

You blinked at him.

“You’re spoiling me,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

Harry’s smile was tender, showing you that he cared on a level that you never imagined someone could. “You scared yourself. I just want to bring you back.”

He crossed the room, managing to make his way over to your side of the bed. You let him help you up, still swaddled in the blanket, and followed him into the bathroom, undressed with the exception of the blanket. The lights were low, just the glow of a flickering candle on the sink and along the edge of the tub. Steam curled up from the tub with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus filling the air.

“You can soak as long as you need. I’ll stay close, yeah?”

Your eyes ran along the large clawfoot tub that had been a selling point in the flat search that you both had gone on last summer; it was one of the reasons that you loved this place, along with the light that came in through the living room in the mornings.

“You’re not getting in with me?”

“Not unless you want me to.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely. “But right now I thought you might just want to be still, without touch. I can read to you, though, if that helps. Or we can just sit.”

You nodded again, fascinated that he could have been real. “Read to me.”

He acknowledged that with half of a smile before he gave you a nod. When he removed himself from the room, you let the blanket slip over your shoulders, down your back and legs. Your toe did a dance when you touched the water with your foot, testing it out for the heat. It was quite warm; you held onto the tiled wall before you stepped your way in.

A few minutes later, you were settled in the tub, limbs floating with steam rising around your shoulders. The blanket was gone, but the water replaced its warmth and the heat that surrounded your shoulders, taking away the tension. You leaned your head back, hair pinned up with a clip, the flicker of the candlelight playing on the tiled wall.

Harry had made his way back to the bathroom after picking up the book from your nightstand. He sat just outside the tub with your book in his lap, back against the cabinet, legs stretched out and facing you. He had changed into a hoodie and soft cotton shorts, the drawstring loose, the sleeves pulled over his hands as he thumbed through the pages.

He didn’t start at the beginning. He picked the place you’d left off—the chapter you’d dog-eared last week—and began to read in a voice so smooth and rhythmic that it felt like a lullaby.

Your breathing finally slowed. His voice washed over you, low and patient. There were no performance notes in it, no dramatics. He wasn’t trying to impress you. He was just being there. Just reading. Halfway through the chapter, he glanced up and saw your eyelids drooping as your breathing slowed.

“You falling asleep on me?” he asked gently, closing the book over his thumb.

You smiled faintly, blinking slow as you felt the way that your lips curled up at his question. “No… just relaxed.”

“Good.” He set the book down and moved toward you slowly.

He set the book down and moved toward you slowly, then, moving to the edge of the tub. His hands stayed visible, deliberate. You noticed that even now, even here, Harry was offering you the choice to be touched if you wanted that. The soft light bounced off the surface of the water as he knelt beside the tub and rested his arms on the edge. His eyes stayed up on you, not the delicate vision of your body.

“Can I touch you?” he asked; words were delicate and pressed together with intricacy.

You nodded, then remembered, voice first. “Yeah. Please.”

His fingertips grazed your damp forearm before settling there, thumb tracing idle circles. You could feel the warmth of him through the fog of steam, his presence grounding. He was so quiet, so steady, you could barely hear his breath. For a moment, neither of you even spoke.

Then, quietly, he said, “I’m really proud of you,” he rested his chin on his forearm, on the edge of the tub, “For saying something – earlier, I mean.”

You felt your throat tighten at the way that he spoke. You glanced away, heart aching with the vulnerability of it all; you knew that you had disappointed him – deep down, there was always disappointment, especially when breaking a fantasy. “I didn’t want to ruin it,” you said, the words small, soaked in shame.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Harry said immediately, his voice firm but gentle as his eyebrows furrowed when glancing at you. “You made it real. You made it honest. That means more to me than any fantasy ever could.”

Licking over your lips, you let your head lull towards him on the back of the tub. Hesitating, your lips parted before you took in a breath. “I just… I got in my head. I wanted to want it. But something shifted. And I didn’t know how to explain it without disappointing you.”

“You didn’t disappoint me.” He leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Not even a little. You trusted me enough to tell me what you needed. That’s all I ever want from you – that’s what good sex is to me.”

You closed your eyes; his words poured into the cracks you hadn’t even noticed forming.

“I just feel like – there’s always been someone who wants to push limits,” you whispered, feeling shame in the words but even more shame in the memories. “Even when I froze up. I didn’t always feel like I was allowed to stop it.”

Harry’s jaw flexed, his thumb stilling on your skin. He didn’t rush to respond, just letting the weight of your words sit there, honored in the space between you.

“I’m not them,” he said eventually, quiet and sure – certain. “You never owe me anything. Not your body, not your performance. Definitely not your comfort. If I’m with you – like, really with you, then your safety isn’t negotiable. It’s the whole point.”

You let out a shaky breath, pulling your bottom lip in your mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone say that to me.”

“Well.” He reached for a towel, unfolded it, and held it out to you so that you could stand up and step into it. “Then let’s rewrite the script.”

You let him help you out of the tub, arms winding around his neck as he wrapped the towel around you. He didn’t kiss you; he didn’t press. He just held you, rocking slightly, fingers brushing through your damp hair.

And in that moment, you realized: this, too, was intimacy. Not the hunger. Not the heat of the moment that made you want to forget everything around you. This was the space you needed to feel that intimacy. This was an invitation to stay exactly where you were, and know that he wouldn’t move until you were ready. Until you said so.

#harry fanfic #harry styles fanfic #harry wattpad #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #ask #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #blurb #hs #harry styles imagine #serious smut #harry smutty fanfic #smutty fanfiction #harrystyles

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hiraethwa · 1 year ago

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fuck, wakatoshi thinks as he wakes up to you being pressed into him so closely. he is painfully aware of the throbbing hard on that you were grinding on in your slumber, and he knows you are asleep from the way you just twitched against him seconds ago.

he would hate to wake you up from your deep sleep, but he couldn't stop himself as his fingers wander between your thighs. and much to his surprise, he finds no barriers between him and the slickness of your folds. fuck.

he remembers the last time he sneaked off to the bathroom to handle his problem when you were asleep. you had gotten angry at him for not waking you up when you found out that he had been doing that frequently.

"the only place you are cumming in or on is me." you had scowled at him. it had left him shocked, to say the least. his sweet girl who loves cute cafe dates and flowers. never had he expected you to be freakier than him.

he woke you up the next morning by working his hips into you, unbelievably turned on by your demand for him to use you for his own pleasure even in your sleep.

and now... fuck, were you having a wet dream? his fingers slipped into you easily with your wetness coating them. wakatoshi lets out a small groan as he stretches you out with two of his thick digits, realizing that you didn't need much preparation at all with how wet and ready you are for him.

his boxers are quickly discarded. your juices coating him as he pumps himself with the same hand that just touched you. he shakily guides himself between your lips, pushing into you as gently as he could in the haze of lust.

fuck. wakatoshi curses at how tightly your walls are gripping onto him. a moan spills from his lips as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, strong hands holding onto your hips that are sure to leave bruises later.

you stir, drowsy eyes slowly blinking awake as your sleep is interrupted by ushijima’s movements. the glint that appears in them as you realize that your man is using you for his own relief, any semblance of dignity leaving you with your hips wiggling down against his to take as much of him as you possible could.

“good morning baby” his husky voice blazes your burning fervor, a whine escaping your lips as your grind against him.

his fingers wrap around your throat, easily encasing you, and he gives you what you want. his other hand still holding onto your hip as he thrusts into you deeply at an increasing pace.

“is this what you asked for?” he lovingly strokes your cheek and looks into your eyes, all while continuing to fuck you silly. you make an incoherent noise, relinquishing any control to ushijima.

safe to say, you haven't gotten angry at him for that since then.

a/n whew that was intense!! i love y’all <3 welcome to suffering with me

#haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima smut #ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #haikyuu #ushijima x y/n #ushijima #too spicy #hiraethwa writes

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heeluvv · 5 months ago

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DREAM.ᐟ

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ idol! park sunghoon x 8th member reader

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ p in v, unprotected sex, dry humping, sub hoon, somnophilia (?), etc.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

sunghoon couldn't take it anymore. the dream he just had—hot, vivid, and so undeniably real—left him breathless, his body still reeling from the lingering sensations. the way your body felt beneath him in that dream, the way your lips parted as you moaned his name—it was too much. he woke up hard, painfully so, his cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, aching for any kind of relief.

he swallowed thickly, his body running on impulse as he quietly pushed his sheets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. the dorm was silent, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning. he knew this was wrong, knew he shouldn't, but the need gnawed at him, overpowering any rational thought.

each step he took down the dimly lit hallway felt heavier, his pulse hammering in his ears. he reached your door, hesitating only for a second before carefully pushing it open, making sure not to make a sound. and there you were—laying on your bed, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

your body was sprawled across the mattress, rising and falling with soft, steady breaths. the thin straps of your bra barely clung to your shoulders, the fabric hugging the curves of your chest in a way that made his throat go dry. those skimpy little shorts did nothing to hide the smooth skin of your thighs, and he caught himself staring, his fingers twitching at his sides.

anyone would say it was an inappropriate choice of clothing, especially considering you were the only woman in an all-boy band, but you didn’t seem to care. you never did. and fuck, that only made you even more irresistible to him.

his breath hitched as his eyes raked over your figure, his body reacting instantly. his cock throbbed against the confines of his sweatpants, straining as if it had a mind of its own. he bit his lip, exhaling shakily as his self-control started to slip through his fingers.

god, how was he supposed to hold himself back when you were right there, looking like a goddamn dream?

he moved towards the bed with slow, measured steps, his heart hammering in his chest as the dim glow of the moonlight cast a soft sheen over your sleeping form. his hands trembled slightly as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down his legs until they pooled silently at his feet. now, only his boxers remained, the thin fabric barely doing anything to conceal just how painfully hard he was.

his breath hitched as he crouched down beside the bed, his heated palms hovering over your exposed thighs before finally making contact. the contrast between his warmth and your cool skin sent a shiver up his spine, his fingers instinctively pressing into the soft flesh. he spread your legs just a little more, the motion deliberate yet cautious, as if he were afraid of waking you—though the thrill of that possibility only made him throb even harder.

he carefully climbed over you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he caged you beneath him. his face hovered mere inches from yours, close enough for him to feel the soft puffs of your breath against his lips. a quiet, needy whine escaped him before he could stop it, the sheer proximity making his restraint waver.

his hips moved on their own, grinding against your clothed cunt in a slow, desperate rut. even through the layers of fabric, the friction was electric, the heat pooling between you making his entire body tense. his cock twitched violently against the tight confines of his boxer briefs, a strangled groan caught in his throat as he bit down on his lip to muffle it.

fuck, it felt too good. the pressure, the warmth, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours—it was intoxicating. he tried to stay still, tried to hold back, but the sensation was overwhelming. he wanted more. he wanted to feel every inch of you, to press himself against your bare skin, to make that dream he had—so vivid, so fucking good—a reality.

"fuck… y/n…" he whimpered, voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with so much desperation it sent a shiver down his spine. his hips moved faster, the friction between his aching cock and your clothed heat making his head spin. his breath came out in shaky, uneven pants, his body practically trembling above you.

his eyes were squeezed shut, brows knitted together in pure bliss, his parted lips releasing soft, needy gasps. he’d touched himself countless times to the thought of you—late at night, hand wrapped tight around his cock, imagining the way you’d feel beneath him. but this… actually feeling the warmth of your cunt, even through the barrier of thin fabric, ignited something raw, something almost primal within him.

his fingers dug into your hips as he rolled his own against you, desperate for more. the sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt before—hot, suffocating, overwhelming in the best way possible. his cock twitched uncontrollably in his boxers, every movement sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body, making him whimper with every drag of his hips.

beneath him, your body shifted, a quiet noise escaping your lips as you stirred from your sleep. your legs twitched, your hips shifting against his, and the unintentional movement sent another sharp wave of pleasure straight to his core. his breath hitched, his grinding growing sloppier, more erratic.

your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, only to be met with the sight of sunghoon hovering over you—his flushed face twisted in pleasure, his body pressed so tightly against yours, his needy whines filling the silence of the room. even as your groggy mind tried to make sense of the situation, he didn’t stop. he couldn’t.

"y/n…" he moaned again, voice wrecked with desperation, his hips rutting against you like he was already too far gone to stop.

your half-lidded eyes stayed locked on him, watching every little expression that flickered across his face—his furrowed brows, his parted lips, the way his breath came out in shallow, needy gasps. he looked completely lost in the pleasure, his body moving on pure instinct as he continued to grind himself against your clothed cunt, each roll of his hips more desperate than the last.

a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you reached up, your fingers trailing along his flushed skin before pulling him closer. your lips ghosted over his neck, barely brushing against the sensitive skin before you pressed soft, lingering kisses there. his body tensed instantly, a sharp gasp leaving his mouth, but you didn’t stop. you kissed, licked, and nibbled, letting your teeth scrape teasingly against his heated flesh, feeling the way his body shuddered beneath your touch.

"fuck, y/n…" he choked out, voice breaking into a high-pitched whine. his hands clutched onto your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself, but it was useless. the moment your lips latched onto that sweet spot near his collarbone, he let out a shaky moan, his hips bucking against you with even more urgency.

"please… please give me more…" he whimpered, his voice drenched in desperation, in need. his moans were getting louder, more broken, and it only made you more eager to see just how far you could push him.

you hummed against his skin, pulling back just enough to glance at his wrecked expression—his pretty eyes glazed over, his lips trembling as he swallowed down another needy sound. you dragged your nails slowly down his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch, before leaning in close again.

"baby… you’re so sensitive," you murmured, amusement laced in your tone. your words sent a visible shiver down his spine, a soft whimper slipping past his lips as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

he was falling apart in your hands, completely at your mercy, and you weren’t about to stop now.

you couldn’t take it anymore. the way sunghoon kept grinding against you, his desperate, needy whimpers filling the air, had your pussy completely soaked, your arousal seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear. every rut of his hips, every twitch of his cock against your clothed heat sent another wave of need surging through your body, making it impossible to hold back any longer.

without a second thought, your hands moved with urgency, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down in one swift motion. his cock sprang free, thick and leaking, twitching at the sudden exposure. he let out a sharp gasp, his breath hitching when the cool air met his flushed skin. without wasting any time, you slid your own shorts down, tossing them aside as you straddled his lap.

his eyes widened slightly as you pushed him back onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress as he let out soft, breathless gasps. his flushed chest rose and fell rapidly, his muscles tensing beneath you. the anticipation in his gaze was unmistakable, his pupils blown wide with need as he watched you wrap your fingers around his cock.

"fuck…" he whimpered, his head falling back against the pillows. his cock twitched violently in your grip, hot and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him slowly, teasingly. his whole body shuddered at the contact, his thighs tensing as he fought to keep his hips still.

"y/n, please…" he whined, his voice breaking, barely able to keep his eyes open. he was already falling apart, the way your hand worked over his length making him feel like he could lose it at any second.

you smirked, tightening your grip slightly as you pumped him with ease, watching the way his abs tensed with every stroke. "so fucking hard, huh?" you teased, your voice dripping with amusement.

he could only nod frantically, words completely failing him. his lips parted, his breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants as his fingers gripped the sheets beneath him.

"y/n… y/n, please—ahhh!" he nearly screamed as you slammed yourself down onto his cock, fully sheathing him in one swift motion.

his body jolted beneath you, his back arching off the bed as a deep, guttural moan ripped from his throat. your walls clenched around him so perfectly, so tight and warm that it made his head spin. his hands flew to your waist, gripping onto you for dear life as he struggled to keep himself together.

"y/n… please—c-can i c-cum?" he whined, voice trembling as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his whole body shaking beneath you.

"already?" you taunted, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you kept your movements slow, torturously slow, rolling your hips over his cock in a way that had him trembling beneath you. your hands found their way to the back of his nape, fingers threading through his damp hair before tugging just hard enough to make him gasp.

"hold it," you ordered, your voice firm yet teasing, the authority in your tone making his cock twitch inside you. without another word, you picked up your pace, bouncing on him faster, harder, the lewd sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.

"s-shit… y/n…" he whimpered, his voice cracking as his grip on your waist tightened, fingertips pressing bruises into your skin. his head fell back against the pillow, jaw slack, eyes glassy with desperation. "uh—fuck, no… please…" his words were slurred, broken by ragged moans as he fought to hold himself back, his body betraying him with every needy jerk of his hips.

your walls clenched around him without mercy, squeezing him so deliciously tight that he nearly sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure. he was drowning in the sensation, in the way your heat wrapped around him, in the way you took him so perfectly—like you were made to milk him dry.

the bedroom was filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, your slick coating his cock and making a mess between your thighs. mixed with that were the unrestrained whines and desperate moans spilling from sunghoon’s lips, his voice getting higher, more broken with every bounce of your hips. neither of you cared if the others in the dorm heard—hell, at this point, he was too far gone to even think about anything but you.

"fuck, y/n—please… i can't take it… it’s too much!" he cried out, his body trembling violently beneath you, his cock pulsing inside your heat as he teetered on the edge of release. his fingers dug into your skin, his thighs quivering, his eyes rolling back as he let out a strangled sob of pure pleasure.

"is this what you wanted, baby?" you whispered, voice dripping with teasing sweetness, though even you were struggling to keep it steady. your eyes fluttered shut, your breath hitching as sunghoon drove himself deeper into you, filling you so perfectly it had your head spinning. every thrust was sharp, precise, and desperate, like he was chasing something he could never quite reach.

his whines were relentless, high-pitched and needy, mixing with the deep, broken moans that spilled from his parted lips. fuck, you loved it—the way he sounded so utterly wrecked, the way his body trembled beneath you, the way he fell apart so easily just from being inside you.

but more than anything, you loved the way he looked right now. his pretty eyes were glassy, unfocused, filled with nothing but pure, unfiltered pleasure. his swollen lips quivered with every gasp, every plea, every broken moan that escaped him. and those tears—hot, glistening streaks trailing down his flushed cheeks, slipping down his jaw as his expression twisted in overwhelming bliss.

you reached out, your thumb gently brushing over his damp cheek, catching a tear before pressing your lips to the spot. "you're so fucking good, baby," you praised, your voice a breathy moan against his skin.

his whole body shuddered beneath you at your words, his hands gripping onto your waist as if he’d fall apart completely without you holding him together. "y-y/n…" he whimpered, his voice cracking, his hips stuttering as he tried to keep up with you.

he was gone—completely lost in you, drowning in the way you felt, the way you praised him, the way you took control and ruined him so perfectly.

"fuck, baby… i'm close…" you moaned, your voice breathless and dripping with need as you rode him harder, faster, chasing that intoxicating high. every bounce of your hips had his cock slamming deep into you, the tip kissing that perfect spot over and over again, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. it was heaven—the way he filled you up so completely, stretching you just right, making you feel so fucking good.

sunghoon was a mess beneath you, his body trembling, his grip on your waist tightening as his moans grew more desperate. "fuck! y/n… please, please—" he whimpered, his voice breaking into a cry as his hands dug into your skin, his strength betraying him as he took control for just a moment.

his arms flexed as he lifted you effortlessly, only to slam you back down onto his cock, making you gasp at the sudden intensity. the new angle had him hitting even deeper, his cock dragging along your walls so perfectly it had your vision going white for a second.

he couldn’t take it anymore. the way your walls clenched around him, the way you felt so fucking tight, the way you kept moaning his name—it was all too much. his body tensed beneath you, his back arching off the bed as his hips stuttered in frantic, erratic thrusts.

"ahh—y/n! fuck—!" he cried out, his voice wrecked as he spilled into you, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you up completely. his whole body shook violently, his cock twitching inside you, buried deep as he rode out his orgasm.

the feeling of him throbbing inside you, of his warmth spreading, pushed you right over the edge. your body locked up, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat as pleasure crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming.

"fuck—sunghoon!" you moaned out as your release hit, your body trembling, your legs shaking as you squirted all over him, your slick drenching his lower stomach, his thighs, his still-hard cock.

he whimpered beneath you, overwhelmed, overstimulated, but completely and utterly addicted to the way you felt.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i hoped you enjoyed!!

#enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha #enhypen smut #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon #sub sunghoon #8th member of enhypen

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darlingdaisyfarm · 9 months ago

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˚⋆｡ thinking about Ford who. . .✧˚ (x fem!reader)

minors don’t interact

Who can’t help himself.

His mind never really stops working, even when he’s inside you, moving so slow that has you writhing beneath him. His cock buried inside you, stretching you out inch by inch, but even now, his thoughts are somewhere between the galaxies and the stars. His cock pulses inside you, making you feel so good, but it’s not enough and yet he's still talking about the fabric of the universe.

“You know. . . mmm, parallel dimensions have an infinite number of variables, but if you—" his breath hitches as he rolls his hips deeper, forcing your body to arch. “if you narrow them to specific constants you find— hahh, patterns.” little moan escapes your lips, needy, as his cock drags slowly against your walls.

His voice is calm, even steady despite the unhurried, delicious way he's fucking you, but you're barely listening. How could you? Every thrust has your mind blanking, leaving nothing but pleasure pooling low in your belly. Your nails digging into his back, you feel so abandoned each time he pulls out, only to have him slide back in with agonizing precision.

"Forddd. . .” you moan, head falling back into the pillow, begging for more, for faster. But his rhythm is controlled, measured, its like he’s savouring the way your cunt grips him, tight and so damn warm as he’s balls deep inside you.

“Dimensional travel. . . it’s not just theoretical, you see,” Ford’s voice is calm, as if he’s lecturing a class and not thrusting into your slick, dripping pussy, as if you’re not clenching around him so tight it’s driving you both insane. “If we can manipulate space-time— like this. . .” he punctuates his words with a deep thrust, his cock dragging against your soft walls in a way that makes your whole body shake. “we can alter outcomes. Mm, t-that means every choice you make branches into— fuck, you’re tight— into infinite possibilities.”

You can hardly breathe, can barely think because of the pressure building between your legs and he’s still talking. God, he’s still talking. You hear him, even if barely, something about gravitational fields and parallel worlds, but it’s all turning into a blur with your eyes rolling in the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot inside again and again.

“You like it when I explain things to you,” Ford claims. “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

You can’t even find the words to respond, because yes, you love it and fuck, you hate that you love it. All you can do is mewl and whimper, your hips rolling against him in a futile attempt to make him pick up the pace. He knows, god, he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Ford, please—!” his cock slides deeper, but that serious, calm tone, fuck, it’s driving you wild. You want him to stop talking, to focus, to pound into you like you need, but his voice just keeps spilling from his lips like honey. Your head rolls back, lips parting in pathetic little gasps and moans, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You can’t take it anymore, he’s teasing you, playing with you, dragging it out just to see how far he can push you before you break. “please, faster!” you plead, desperate for more, desperate for him to stop talking and just fuck you properly, hard and fast. But he’s still so calm, still so fucking unflappable.

“Oh? you’re getting impatient?” Ford’s hand slides down your trembling thigh, lifting it higher, opening you up even more to him. “You wanted to learn about interdimensional physics, didn’t you?” he mumbles under his breath as he grinds into you, his cock plunging deeper, completely filling you and it feels like a dream for both of you. “I’m just giving you what you wanted.”

His fingers find your needy clit, rubbing in torturous circles as he continues that slow rhythm inside you. He’s barely breaking a sweat, his brow furrowed in concentration as if this is just another experiment to him meanwhile you’re such a mess under him. His cock twitches inside you as he changes angle again, deeper now and he takes a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop talking.

He doesn’t stop and you hate him.

Ford’s eyes roam over your trembling body, reveling in the sight of you, desperate and needy. Your eyes watery and mouth open in a breathless moan.

“The fascinating thing about dimensional shifts— god, you feel so good,” he trails off for a moment, and you think, finally, he’s losing focus. You roll your hips against his, hoping to break his composure. But instead of faltering, he chuckles, leaning down only to plant a small kiss on your lips. “you’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, p-pleasee!” you whine, spreading your legs wider, trying to press up against him, but he pins you down.

“Clever girl,” he mutters, voice rougher now, losing some of that composed edge as he looks at you, the desperate need written all over your cute face. “letting me teach you like this.”

He pulls out, almost completely, leaving you aching, empty, before slamming back into you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. "That’s my girl." his words make you cry out his name over and over again, your nails digging into his back as he starts to fuck you better, properly, his pace quicker, rougher now, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

He’s no longer focused on explaining the mysteries of the universe, he’s focused on you, on how your body responds to him, on how good it feels to have you wrapped around him, hot and wet and perfect, on how your wetness and slick coating his length. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mixing with your desperate, needy moans and his groans when he finally fucks you the way you wanted, he ruts into you faster, harder, and it’s everything you needed, everything you craved.

“Ford— oh fuck,” you cry out, head thrown back and he’s there, finally losing himself in the way your cunt clenching around him, making such wet squelching sounds, he’s lost in the way you’re moaning his name, voice so beautiful. You’re nearly drooling as you give him a silly smile, begging him to finish inside you.

“Cum for me,” he growls, his hand sliding down, thumb finding your clit and pressing down in fast circles what makes your head spin. “I want to feel you— cum for me, now.” you arch your back as the orgasm crashes through you, you walls flutter around him, the sensations are so intense you can’t even scream, only shake and try to cross your legs because pleasure is fucking overwhelming, though Ford never stops thrusting into your wetness. You’re trembling, mind blank as you cling onto him, holding him, feeling him.

Ford groans at the beautiful sight, his clever girl looks so pretty when she’s dumb fucked and cock drunk. However Ford is lost in pleasure too, your pussy feels so warm, so tight and good he just can’t stop fucking you. But he’s damn close. He grits his teeth, taking a deep breath, thrusting into you so hard, burying himself so fucking deep, his cock twitching as he spills into you, filling you up with every last drop. Finally, finally. He’s breathing heavily into your lips, glasses fogged, his chest heaving. You just lay there, taking it like a good girl you are.

Ford can’t stop looking at you, he kisses your forehead, softly and gentle. “Now. . . where were we? Ah, yes. Dimensional theory.”

You can’t help but laugh, head still spinning as he pulls you close, already starting to ramble again about parallel worlds and universal constants, like he wasn’t just inside you, fucking you senseless.

And honestly you wouldn’t have him any other way.

#gravity falls stanford #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #x reader #gravity falls smut #ford pines smut #stanford pines #gravity falls #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #ford x reader #ford pines #gravity falls ford #stanford pines x you #smut

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cannibaliist · 5 months ago

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Pink Matter - Sevika x F!Reader (18+)

One shot | Part 2 soon??

Contains: 18+, sickfic, slight modern!au, smut, explicit content!!, NSFW, mentions of alcohol and weed consumption, established relationship, no use of y/n, nicknames of 'baby girl, sweet girl, etc.' mentioned, dom!sevika, strap ons, oral!s e x reader recieving, rough, vaginal s e x

Word Count: 3.6K

a/n: the Sevika brainrot got too much so here we are lol . hope you enjoy !!

cross posted on AO3

title inspired by Pink Matter by Frank Ocean

Sevika likes you even when you're sick. Because there is no other grown woman or man she'd allow to perspire on her sheets and take up all the space on her mattress on an early Saturday morning when she's finally free from work and Silco's nagging. So yeah, she likes you all right.

You don't usually get sick often, especially with her watching over you to make sure you're warm during Zaun's freezing weather.

Your sweat-coated skin soaks through the double layer of navy blue sheets on the bed. It turns the blue almost black and Sevika can only think about how her shit – the one pair of sheets she probably owns – is definitely close to fucked up. God, you are so lucky she doesn't want you to die from whatever you contracted after fucking around all night during the misting rain, laughing and dancing high off your mind from the cheap weed Sevika bought off her coworker. That mixed with what the people called “Shimmer Juice”, you were half out of your mind for the night.

“Baby get the hell inside,” Sevika had told you last night, but all you did was smile at her. That blinding ass smile full of white teeth and crescent shaped eyes that made her heart start thumping a little faster in her chest. Fuck. She really was in love with you.

So of course, now you were running a fever and swaddled in whatever blankets she could scrounge up around her room. Sevika likes you like this though, fading in and out of consciousness.

Snoring softly and muttering small words while grasping at whatever body part of Sevika you could reach to keep you warm. You get super clingy when you're sick, one of the only times you are completely super sweet and malleable instead of talking back to Sevika like she won't put you in your place the next moment, but your freak ass is into it so she has to calm herself down another way to not give you exactly what you want. Still, she smiles at your petty actions. Helps to know you really want her in every single form.

She decided to run a few errands while your younger form slept, grabbing soup ingredients – Does my love prefer celery or corn? – bottles of water and a thermometer that she's never bothered to keep in her home before. The things my baby makes me do, she thinks as she puts her things into her grocery basket.

When she gets back and puts the groceries away she expects for her baby to still be sound asleep but instead you seem a bit off. Hair splayed out everywhere with your chest rising and falling heavily. A flush in your cheeks that's still so visible even with the color of your skin, tinted a steady red even in your sleep.

Sevika wondered if you were having a nightmare, thrashing and moving in your sleep like you do when your dreams get really bad, fighting more than just sickness.

But instead, your whole body is trembling, your hips unconsciously grinding into the sweat-stained sheets. Sevika walks closer, watching you move your body further into the bed, soft little groans escaping your plush lips. She stills as you mutter a soft cry for her. “Sevika…” She holds her breath, slowly approaching the voice. “Sevi, please.”

Sevika smirks to herself, touching a hand to your warmed skin shaking your awake. “Get up, sweet girl.” She had to take your temperature now before giving you any water. You startle with a groan, whining like you always do. Some nonsense about a “-middle of a good dream. ruin everything.”

“Open your mouth for something other than running it baby.” Even though you're slightly annoyed from being woken up from such a nice dream, you do as instructed, mouth wide and hinting for more than just a thermometer.

Sevika felt a twinge in her pants. Her desire to slide her strap down your awaiting throat was just too tempting. Instead, she cups your jaw, and sticks the thermometer tip under your tongue. You glare and let out a soft whine of disappointment. “Tease,” you mutter.

Sevika rolls her eyes at the petulant behavior and pulls out the thermometer at the beep. “101.4, Told your crazy ass to sit down last night and now here we are,” she scoffs. “Sit up and drink some water.”

You groan and turn your head away, letting yourself fall back onto the bed. “Don't want to.”

Sevika sighs, sliding her warm fingers over your sweat-soaked hair, small pieces threatening to curl at the nape of your neck. They feel nice as they start to comb at your scalp. “Listen, you've been playing housewife all week, cleaning and cooking all nice for me, let me take care of you now baby girl.”

You groan again, weak hands gripping the edge of the blanket, trying to pull it off of you. You sigh into the pillow, words all muddied and unclear. “Speak up baby, I'm not straining to hear you.”

You take a deep, labored breath in, and turn her head towards Sevika, cheeks getting all hot. “Said you want to, so take care of me.”

Her eyes narrow at you, “What do you think I'm doing?”

“No Sevi, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

Sevika grips your chin, hard, probably could leave a few bruises if she tried hard enough. You twitch under her touch, ultra-sensitive from the fever. “You're outta your mind right now. You need to rest ”

You bring a hand to Sevika’s thigh as she hovers over you, grasping with more strength than you probably needed to have. “I need it, please. I'll be good.”

Just the thought of your body loose and desperate sends a rush straight to the older woman's crotch. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Fuck me, Sevika.” Your voice was exhausted, but eager, wide eyes staring endlessly into her own dark grey ones.

She watches the quickened rise and fall of your chest as she goes to take off her vest and her pants. Of course she's commando. Of course. The thing you're waiting for is less than 5 steps away, tucked in the nightstand drawer. Sevika is quick to grab the strap-on and fasten it around herself. It's a beautiful deep shade of purple and thick and practically gleaming as she steps closer to you. You scramble out of your sleep shorts and t-shirt to feel her presence even closer.

“Gonna slick me up baby? Get me ready for you?” She asks as she sizes you up. Her eyes are dark, hungry, for you.

You nod dumbly. So ready to suck her off like you've done times before.

She drags her metal hand along your lower leg, up your shaking thighs, over your awaiting ass in your underwear, and up to your back. You twitch at the cold of the metal, too much sensation from such a small gesture. Simply Sevika’s touch – gentle strokes across the skin – was overwhelming.

Sevika gently tugs on your jaw, testing how pliable and easy you promised to be. She was met with no resistance as your mouth opened with ease, “doing so good already baby.”

Sevika stepped closer, hovering over your face, sliding in her strap until she hit the back of your throat with no resistance. You were too tired for a reflex, too tired to choke. Fuck, she could do anything she wanted to you right now and you wouldn't even flinch. Something dark coiled in Sevika's stomach, if she was a better person she would've ignored your pleas and doped you up with enough medicine to tire you out but she wasn't an entirely good person, and you liked her that way.

Sevika worked your mouth, it's as if she could feel the warm back of your throat every time she bottomed out. But the small quiver of breath on the straps cockhead was a reminder that you needed to breathe.

Tears welled in your eyes, and Sevika had to fight coming right then and there. She wanted to fill your throat, make you keep her strap warm as you swallowed every last bit of her. The only fight you had was an involuntary gasp for air. Sevika held you there for just a second longer, slowly sliding out of your mouth, warm and wet. As Sevika’s strap head passes your lips, you groan, trying to get Sevika to put herself back where she belongs.

Sevika replaces the emptiness with her fingers, laying them on your tongue instead. “Not now baby girl.”

Sevika hovers over you, staring at your parted lips, watching your eyes flutter as sweat drips down your brow. She lowered her hips, slowly dragging her strap along your entrance. Sevika’s other hand traveled down to the leaking pussy between your thighs, mouth watering at the wetness. She thumbs your clit slowly as she grasps your ass with her metal hand.

You gasp at the soft friction, pushing your hips up to meet Sevika, breath heavy. “Need you Sevi, please.”

“Keep your hands up. Just like that.” You cross your arms above your head as you ache to touch Sevika back. Your skin is hot and flushed and you feel like you'll explode any second that your girlfriend isn't touching you.

“Hurry, please.”

“Patience pretty girl,” Sevika warns. Your whines were cut short by Sevika’s mouth meeting your own. The kiss was rough, more teeth meeting lips and gasps than anything else but it was perfect. Just like her.

Sevika pulls away and watches her baby's head lift off the pillow to chase her, falling back almost immediately with a huff. You let your hands move from where they lay against the pillow crossed to pull Sevika back down into a kiss. Desperate.

Pulling away again Sevika pins your wrist to the mattress with a growl. You stare up at her, eyes shining with tears but overfilled with lust and want. Fuck. “You don't listen for shit, girl. Keep your hands where I can see ‘em.”

Sevika kisses along your jaw and neck, soft nips and bites that you wanted to feel more of. Wanted them to bruise. To show everyone who you belonged to. But all you can do is whine and mumble out whispers instead of words.

“Use your words, baby.”

You choke on your words. “M-more. Please.”

Sevika leans back down, crashing her lips into yours. “You want more?”

You groan into her mouth. “Please, anything.”

Sevika pulls away, spitting into your mouth, hungry and aching. “Swallow. Want you to remember that taste.” You swallow greedily, heart pumping as Sevika kisses down the soft skin of your stomach, inching closer to your cunt.

She smirks at the sight, you already so desperate for more, as she runs her fingers up and down your warm entrance. You moan at the sudden intrusion, rocking back onto Sevika’s hand as she slips a finger in, all the way to the knuckle, groaning at the heat and the way you're clenched so tight around her.

“Another please, Sevika.”

One finger quickly becomes three, and you can't even flinch at the rushed invasion, just blabbering and moaning as Sevika's thick fingers slam into your pussy. Your hips rock against Sevika’s hand as you can do nothing but wordlessly whimper and beg for something.

Sevika hits that special spot in quick little pumps, bringing your muted cries to loud gasps.

“Almost there, baby.” Sevika tells you, her ability to hold herself back from jumping your bones entirely is slowly starting to crumble.

When she deems you prepped enough, she takes her fingers away and slides them into her mouth making you moan. She licks her fingers like it's nectar as she sucks them into her mouth.

Finally, Sevika settles between your trembling thighs, the color a hue she's always loved from all the time you spent tanning in the sun with no worries in the world.

A gentle groan passes by your lips as Sevika sucks a mark into the flesh of your legs, nipping along the skin turning it into a pinkish red that will soon blossom into a deep purple. She grazes her teeth along your inner thigh, biting down hard. She trails her fingers up the backs of both your legs, settling on your ass and grabbing at the soft flesh, sending a shiver up your spine.

You mewled, begging. “Need you please.” You could feel Sevika smile into the mark she made on your thigh, turned on beyond relief at your begging. “Just a little longer baby.”

Giving you a pat on the head, she lowers her awaiting mouth to your weeping cunt, though you're already close even from her thick fingers inside of you. You moaned at the contact, gripping the sheets as Sevika licks you up clean. You resist the overwhelming urge to clutch at her hair as she works you out, but you promised not to move your hands. You'd listen this once, just for her.

She works her tongue over your swelling clit, swirling her tongue, and moving back down. She ate you like a pro, taking you deeper in her mouth, breathing in the smell of her girl and the tickle of your hairs along her face. Whether you had a bush or shaved for some occasions, she was very appreciative of the effort, regardless of how you presented yourself to her.

She fucks you with her tongue and only adds in a single finger. Pistoning faster as she works at your clit. It's all too much too soon and she pulls off to lick you up again, fingers still angled over your sweet spot, when she hears a loud cry. You've already cum. Making the sheets stain a darker shade of navy blue.

“W-what the fuck?” You say more to yourself than anyone else. The fever makes you even more sensitive, even the littlest bit of stimulation making you come, it's insanely embarrassing to your already dwindling ego.

“Think you can do one more?” the older woman chuckles. You just shake your head nervously, tears peaking at the corner of your eyes. “No more.”

Sevika's eyes harden, grasping your hips and digging her nails in. The clutch of her metal fingers into the flesh of your hip leaves you reeling – knowing it's gonna bruise later. “If I tell you one more, then it's gonna be one more.”

He slicks up her glistening strap with whatever lube she had on her dresser already half empty, and positions her above you. She lines herself up, pushing slow yet unyielding into you. You can't help but scream as Sevika pulls out and slams her strap into you, purposely missing your sweet spot just to make you beg for it.

You try and bite your arm to quiet your whimpers, it was embarrassing wanting her so bad, wanting her dick, her strap, inside you so bad. Sevika reaches up, grabbing your face until they drift to your throat. “You can be loud, baby, let me hear you.”

She fucks you slow and deep, wanting to savor every second you're so pliant underneath her. Your mind is quieted by the fever, now, basically delirious. She uses just enough pressure against your throat to let you breathe, already labored and erratic.

It feels like your whole body is on fire. Only filled with thoughts of Sevika Sevika Sevika. Those words chant themselves over and over in your mind like a mantra.

Sevika places your legs over her shoulders and enters again with no hesitation, fucking into you even faster. “Touch yourself sweet girl. Wanna see you cum again.”

You whimper. “Sevika, I don’t think-”

Sevika puts a finger over your mouth. “You don't get to tell me no princess, you wanted this, remember?” It was mocking, less a question and more a statement. Of course you remember, it's burned into the back of your mind.

Your weak hand reaches for your clit to give it at least a little bit of stimulation. But there's no strength left in your body to bring yourself to come again, your grip was nothing more than a soft coaxing. Tears fill your eyes from frustration, from pleasure, a sharp mixture of both.

With a laugh, Sevika slaps your pathetic hand away and brings her hand to your clit herself. Sevika continues to stroke you, angling her hips to hit even deeper into your tight pussy. It's all too much and all you can do is sob.

Sevika moves her vacant metal hand from your hip to your throat, choking you properly now. Sevika’s pace quickens, folding you in half with your thighs against her sticky chest, thrusting as deep into you as she could. Your eyes began to roll, chest heaving from a sob but no words can escape her lips.

“Please don't stop, please.”

You barely have time to process what’s happening before Sevika folds you in half again. You love the way the older woman makes you feel when she's caged over you. You're not overly short or tall, but you still feel so small in comparison to Sevika’s more broad-shouldered frame. You feel your body shake as Sevika sheathes herself back inside fully with one single thrust. You barely manage to take it, body tightening around her cock reflexively. It's basically an extension of her at this point.

She lets her hand slither from around your neck to your boobs, fondling them as she fucks you harder. You scramble against the sheets with sweaty hands and weak fingers, trying to get away from the pistoning dick tearing you apart. Sevika is so big inside of you, he can hardly feel anything else.

She kisses you and it feels like heaven all over again.

Feels like you're drowning in pure bliss. She keeps fucking you through it, making you cum over and over again, watching as your body writhes in agony and overstimulation. It almost hurts, so fucking much, but it feels so so good. You love that Sevika isn’t afraid to handle you roughly – isn't afraid to slam her hips forward like she wants to destroy your guts with each thrust – but she isn't afraid to truly make love to you either, all nice and slow. Here, your mind finally has the ability to finally shut off and you can submit yourself fully to the older woman.

When Sevika finally comes it's like you can practically feel the strap swell inside of you.

Sevika pulls out with a groan, as if it really is her own cock and not a toy. Something about it has your stomach swirling into knots again.

She licks her lips. “Not done with you yet baby.”

Sevika grabs you by your waist and flips you over, shoving your face deep into the mattress.

“Fit around this cock so well baby girl. Bet you're wishing it was real huh?”

You can barely process Sevika’s words, only letting out a jumbled, “only yours Sevi” before your mind is clouded by a thick sheen of tears, sweat, and cum. You can't count how many times you come before you pass out from the fever and from working your body so hard.

————

When you come to, the first thing you feel is emptiness. The emptiness of your cunt and the bed as Sevika is nowhere to be seen. It triggers something in your chest and he can't help the sob that gets stuck in her throat. You want to call out for her, cry, something, but your throat is wrecked and raw.

“Sevika?” you push out, voice weak from exertion.

After a few moments of silence, you hear the floorboards creak near the bedroom door. It's Sevika with a bowl of something in her hand and a bottle of water. She smiles at you, her lopsided smile glistening against the window light and it's all too domestic.

“You aight Bambi?” The special nickname makes you want to jump her bones all over again. Her voice is soft as if speaking any louder would frighten you. But you're strong, already feeling better from your nap. You just nod, reaching an arm out towards Sevika's approaching figure to motion her to the space on the bed next to you.

There’s different sheets this time, a creamy grey color and you wonder how long you were out cold so that she was able to replace sheets right under you.

“I'm right here baby hold on.” He grabs the thermometer from the nightstand, motioning for you to open your mouth again.

“98.9” she says after the beep. She cracks a wide smile, “fucking miracle my strap is huh?” You can only roll your eyes, “don't get too cocky, Sevi. I was right after all.”

Sevika wraps you in a hug, breathing in the faint smell of sex, and the smell of your shampoo. “Eat your soup and if you're good I'll let you sleep with it in.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively, grinning larger than life. The little gap between her teeth has your heart melting as you kiss her softly.

“I love you so much Sevika.” She presses your foreheads together and holds the sides of your face with her hands.

One kiss to your left eyelid, one kiss to your right lid, another to the tip of your nose, and finally another one your lips as she clutches you tighter. “I love you too baby.”

You eat your soup with a hunger you've never had before in your life. You go to sleep very happy that night, stomach full and pussy full as she spoons you as you both fall asleep.

~~~~

#sevika fic #sevika #sevika smut #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #sevika x female reader

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gardens-light · 8 months ago

Text

Opposites Attract

Unlike his friend, D16 often kept his head down and followed protocol. Going through his usual routine one cycle after another, only stepping out of his normality whenever Orion Pax needed to be pulled out of trouble. Yet... he'd be lying, if he ever said his optics never occasionally drifted towards the one thing he's wanted. You. The High Guard that had stolen his spark, who's beauty could only be compared to the sparkling towers of Iacon. Something he could never touch and never to keep. For he accepted the fact you both were from different worlds. Something that not even one of the 'great plans' of Orion Pax could change... right...?

Content: D16/Megatron TFO x F/Cybertronian Reader. Fluff.

Toiling away under the flickering lights and constant hum of machinery. The cavernous walls of the mine glittered with the veins of energon, their iridescent glow faintly illuminating the surroundings.

As the others grinded away at the seams of energon, Orion Pax's gaze flickered up at D16, noticing the distracted expression upon his faceplate.

"Hey D. You ok?"

Startled and snapping out of his daze, D16 briefly looked over his shoulder. "Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah. I'm fine." he replied dismissively, casually returning his blank gaze back to the task at hand.

"You know I've got your back. Right...?"

"I know, I know you do, Orion. It's just... it's nothing. Really."

Orion lowered his tools, placing a hand on D16's shoulder as his movements became a bit more forceful, as if he was trying to take out his frustration on the cave walls.

Stiffening under his friend's touch, finally taking a moment of pause as he met Orion's concerned gaze.

"It's just... it's stupid. I honestly don't know why I'm even bothered by it." A heavy sigh escaped D16's lips, dropping his tools and leaning against the rocky wall behind him. "I... bumped into someone this morning before shift. It was a little thing really, but the simple shock of it... the shock of realizing who it was... I-I've never seen her in person before, only from the holos, but... Primus, Orion. She was... perfect!"

"Don't give me that look." He groaned, seeing the faint smile tugging on Orion's faceplate. "It's not like I have a chance with her. There's no universe where she'd be slightest bit of interested in some lowly mech like me-"

"C'mon D... don't be like that-"

"Why shouldn't I? It's the truth and you know it." D16 pushed himself off the wall and resumed his work. Wielding his tools with more force than necessary. The sharp ringing of metal against stone echoed throughout the cavern.

"Because there's gotta be more to life than just... this!" Orion protested, gesturing to their surroundings. "Don't you want to try and be more than what we're 'supposed' to be?-"

"What else are we supposed to be, then?!" D16 scowled, swinging his tool once more, causing a shower of sparks to fly up. The glow of the energon-flecked rock reflected off the planes of his face, casting deep shadows under his optics. For a brief moment, the harsh environment seemed to aged his otherwise youthful features. "We're miners! Built for this! Just because you have grand dreams and aspirations, doesn't mean the rest of us do!"

Orion flinched, pausing for moment before finding his voice again. "You're... not seriously gonna just admire this femme from afar...? I-I've seen the way you look at her. You adore her!-"

"It doesn't matter, Orion. She's far beyond me. I'm... just a simple miner, and she's a High Guard. There's no point in even entertaining the thought that I could ever... be with her."

"Why not? Who says you couldn't? You're just as good as any mech!-"

"Oh yeah! I'm sure she'd be enthralled by my rugged charm and the coal dust that's constantly clinging to my frame!" D16 bitterly laughed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I bet she'd swoon over the grease stains on my servos. And of course, the highlight! My endless stories of energon extraction- it just gets the femmes going every time! Clearly!"

Grinding away at the cavern wall, using the repetitive motion of his tools against the stone to distract him from the thoughts spinning through his processor. The dull ache in D16's servos felt like a welcomed relief compared to the turmoil in his spark. A small thorn of guilt pricked at his circuits, as he caught Orion's somber expression within the corner of his optic.

Both fell into a tense silence, the only sound of steady rhythmic clang of metal on stone dragging out till the end of their long shift.

---

Eventually the twelfth hour came to an end, D16 and Orion headed to the nearest exit along with their fellow miners. Grimy from the day's work, their servos stained and joins sore from exertion. D16 stretches lazily, trying to work out the kinks in his wiring, rolling his neck and shoulders as he walked beside Orion.

Raising an optic ridge, following his friend's gaze. D16's spark practically stutters when he spots you not far in the distance. A sweet smile framing your lips, as you spoke to another High Guard, your polished form standing out against the dingy backdrop of the mining station. D16's spark pulsed within it's chamber, sending zaps of electricity throughout his circuits, as if you're a magnet drawing him in. As you turned away from your fellow High Guard, the silver miner quickly avoided eye contact, secretly hoping you didn't notice him as he stared at the floor.

Hiding his mischievous smile, Orion slowed his pace a little. His gaze stubley peering up at you every so often, as the gap between you and his friend gradually closes. Secretly positioning himself slightly behind you, Orion quickly pushed you into D16.

His optics widen as you came crashing down on top of him, your sudden weight causing him to lose balance and fall onto his back with a surprised 'oof.'

"H-Hey! Watch where you're..." oh... Primus...

Subtle warmth slowly raised beneath his faceplates, as passers by raised an optic ridge at your... rather compromising position. Your tall yet slender frame caging D16 beneath you, while his servos hovered awkwardly above your waist.

"Ow..."

A jolt of electricity shot through him, a gasp slipping past his lips as your weight shifted onto his legs, straddling his lap. His servos itched towards your thighs, his amber optics watching the grime and dirt rub off onto your otherwise flawless paintwork. Quickly glancing up at you with an apologetic expression, as your optics flickered open.

"By the AllSpark! Are you ok?" your melody tone was filled with concern, as your soft gaze met his. "I-I honestly don't know what happened."

Taking a moment to collect himself, D16's servos involuntary slowly slid up and down your thighs. "I'm... I'm fine. No harm done... are you alright?"

A subtle heat rose to your faceplates, making them warm to the touch, as your optics flickered down at your thighs. Feeling the miner's calloused servos subconsciously caress your sooth metal.

Following your shy gaze, embarrassment flushed across D16's features. Quickly pulling his servos away and scrambling to sit up properly, his chassis brushing against yours. His optics nervously darting around, attempting to avoid your gaze while his spark wildly pulsed within its chamber.

Both raising onto your peds, and after a brief moment of hesitation. The miner's gaze slowly trailed up your form, as you brushed off the coal dust and grime.

"Primus... s-sorry about that." A pang of guilt struck his inner-circuits, while D16 fussed over you. His spark skipping a beat as you gave him a sweet smile. The warmth of your body made his processor go all fuzzy, not being able to string a single thought.

"Thank you-"

"D! There you are! I've been looking for you." Orion's cheerful voice interrupted. Pulling his usual warm smile, ignoring his friend's annoyed glare as Orion wrapped an arm around D16's shoulders. "Please forgive my clumsy friend, ma'am. If you'll allow it, he'd would like to properly apologize for this whole inconvenience. Perhaps over some energon? His treat, of course."

What?! D16's optics widened, as his glare narrowed onto his friend. For sparks sake, Orion! Now isn't the time to conjure up one of your 'master plans!'

You held up your servos. "Oh... that's very sweet. But he doesn't-"

"Nonsense. He insists. Right, buddy?"

Not wanting to bring anymore attention, than Orion already did. D16 slowly nodded, as an irritated huff escaped him.

His optics flickered towards you, as your sweet chuckles came to his audio receivers. Clearly finding somewhat some form of amusement, as the miner obviously looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Very well... if he insists. U-Um... when?"

"How about this evening?" Orion's smile widened, clapping a hand upon D16's shoulder, who subtly cringed under his friend's touch. "D knows a great energon bar down the way, The Cranked Gear. Very laid-back atmosphere, perfect for a casual... meeting."

The warmth beneath D16's plates rose, as he caught a glimpse of your sweet smile. Your soft gaze roaming over his frame, "sounds great. See you later... D."

"What. The. Fragg was that?!" the silver miner snapped once you were out of earshot. A mixture of disbelief and frustration etched into his faceplates, "you set me up!"

"Hey... I was just trying to help." Orion held up his servos in surrender. "Plus, it proves you have a chance with her-"

"Are you kidding me? There's no chance!" D16 threw his servos up in exasperation, his inner-circuits coiling with tension. "She's a High Guard. I'm a cogless miner-bot. We're practically from different worlds! What am I supposed to do? Just sit there and make a fool of myself?"

A weak smile came to Orion, shrugging as he tried to give D16 some form of reassurance. "From... what I've heard. You kinda just... sit there and talk when you're on a date."

"Gee, thanks for the helpful advice." D16 frowned, his tone dripping in sarcasm. "I'll just sit there and chat about the weather and my thrilling work in energon extraction." A low groan escaped his lips, while pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why or how I let you talk me into things, y'know..." This is gonna be a disaster.

Later That Evening

Rocking upon his heels, shifting nervously from pede to pede. A subtle hopeful expression etched upon his features, as D16 glanced around for you.

No sign of her yet...

Taking a deep breath, trying to steady his spark and nerves. While his processor ran through potential conversation topics, attempting to prepare something interesting to say. A sigh escaping his lips, as D16 looked down at himself, suddenly hyper-aware of his frame. His rough, dull plating starkly stood out against the sleek finish of the other mechs in the vicinity.

Hopefully... she's not too put off by my rough exterior-

"Good evening... hopefully you haven't been waiting long."

Your soft tone snapped him out of his thoughts, his wide eyed stare roaming over your newly polished figure. "No! Uh, I mean... no. I just got here... you look..."

"What...?" you quickly looked down at yourself. Examining particular spots over your frame, "do I still have coal dust on me or something?"

"No! No! You look good. Great, even. Better than great!" fragging idiot. "Um... shall we...?"

Giving him a brief smile, you followed D16's lead into the bar. Sunken ceiling lights lit the area with a warm, gentle hue. The atmosphere bustling with chatter and laughter. Making your way through the clutter of tables and chairs, D16 could practically feel the surprised and confused expressions of the patrons, as they took in your presence.

He knew that the pair of you must make quite the duo, a miner and a High Guard. While guiding the way through the bar, his optics narrowed onto the nearest bots, silently daring them to say something. Leading you to a more secluded booth in the far corner, the lights became slightly more dim, creating more intimate feel. While the patrons chatter reduced to lulled muffle.

Your smile slightly widened, as D16 pulled out a seat for you. Politely waiting til you were settled before taking a seat opposite you.

"So... uh... how was your day?" his voice was uncharacteristically low, while his digits anxiously fidgeted wit the edge of the table. Seriously? That's the best you can come up with? Come on!

"Um... alright. Nothing out of the ordinary."

The awkward tension slowly eased into the space between you, as D16's processor scrambled for a new topic.

"That's good... My shift down in the mines was pretty normal. Just the... usual amount of ore. No issues with the equipment- well, one drill malfunctioned. But we fixed it quick enough."

D16's spark nervously pulsed through his wires, as you flashed him a weak smile. Replying with a simple nod, "oh... um, sounds... eventful? Would you... like to order some energon?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. I, uh, should probably warn you though. The stuff they serve here isn't exactly the most refined. It's... got a kind of a bite to it."

After answering with shrug, D16 took the cue to approach the nearby bar. The bartender passed him the drinks with a knowing glance, only to be greeted with the miner's glare in return. Knowing full well that the whole bar was undoubtedly watching him, make his way back to you.

Settling himself back into his seat, carefully sliding your drink towards you. As he took a sip from his own, the smooth taste a momentary distraction from the awkward tension.

Noticing your half-hearted smile, a pang of guilt thumped within his spark. This a complete fragging diseater! Why can't I say anything? I can practically feel this whole thing already crashing and burning in front of me!-

"What's... that on your shoulder?"

"Huh?" D16 followed your gaze, briefly noticing you pausing from your drink. A subtle warmth radiated beneath his faceplates as embarrassment swept through his frame. "Oh, uh, that's just... a sticker. My friend, Orion put it there a while ago, and I... forgot to remove it-"

"Oh no. Don't remove it." The tone of your voice peaked a little, as your gaze softened. Admiring the sticker's holographic shine. "It looks good on you. You should see my stasis pod in my private quarters."

A shy smile lit up his features, as D16's spark fluttered within it's chamber. "Y-You... you think so? I, uh... I appreciate that. And... what's on your stasis pod?"

"My favorite, Solus Prime. But I promise it's only a small sticker."

"Ah, a Solus fan, eh?" a small chuckle escaped his lips. Optics shining with a glimmer of amusement. "Not too shabby. Can't blame you, she was a badass warrior. And... only a small sticker, you say?"

Holding up your servo, almost pinching the air between your thumb and index digit. "This small. Nothing too crazy."

"Oh, phew." A light laugh escaped his lips, as D16 mockly wiped an invisible bead of condensation upon his forehelm. "I was worried you had her face on a full sized wall mural. But just a little sticker? That's much more reasonable."

Your sweet chuckles rung through the air between the pair of you, like a sweet melody. Lifting the awkwardness that lingered before, finally giving him the chance to actually feel connected with you.

Feeling a bit more emboldened, D16 continued. "Seriously. Solus is a solid choice. But I'd have to go with Megatronus, personally."

Raising an optic ridge, while tilting your helm to the side. "What draws to you him?"

Leaning back in his seat, a look of admiration sparkled within his optics. "Well, apart from being the most fearsome warrior in Cybertron's history. He was also a brilliant strategist! He could take on any opponent and come out on top! Plus, he's just... so incredibly powerful. Unstoppable really! I guess I've... always looked up to him for that kind of strength."

A small smile teased the corner of your lips, trying to hide it behind your cup. "That's very true. I gotta admit that he's a total badass."

"Oh. He's definitely a badass! I remember reading tales about his battles against the Quintessons, and let me tell you. They're the stuff of legend! He could take on an entire army by himself and come out with nothing but a scratch."

"Careful." Your teasing tone purred. "Your fanboy is showing."

The warmth beneath his faceplates grow even more, as embarrassment crept back into his frame. Clearing his vocal processor, attempting to return to his usual demeanor while his spark skipped a beat. "What? I'm just stating facts."

Taking the last sip from your drink, your soft gaze trailed down his chassis. D16 subconsciously shifts his body, covering his cogless chamber. His spark pulsing more, avoiding your gaze while taking another mouthful of his drink.

A lull ache pulsed throughout your frame, guilt jabbing your at your spark. "Forgive me... I-I shouldn't have starred-"

"It's... It's fine." The lull ache within you begun to painfully prick at your spark, as D16's words held a more rougher edge than he intended. "You were just curious. I don't blame you."

A subtle blanket of awkward silence slowly crept back into the air, as hesitation temporarily stole your words. A flicker of surprise flashed within D16's optics, as his soft gaze noticed your servo edging closer to him across the table. Breath almost got stuck in his vents as he met your optics, the colour shining with genuine curiosity and a hint of compassion.

The question swirling within your processor, softly escaped your lips in just above a whisper. "Can I...?"

Answering with a simple nod. D16 flinched slightly as you touched his cogless chamber, as if bracing himself for judgement or ridicule. Yet your expression remained soft, a hint of... affection? Flickering within your optics. As your digits gently traced the otter rim of his circular chamber, a strange sense of comfort washed over him. The gesture surprisingly tender, as he found himself relaxing under your touch.

"It's... It's a pretty pathetic sight... isn't it?"

Another prang of guilt pulsed throughout your inner-circuits, as you picked up the subtle shame hiding within D16's words. "What? No! No, of course not. Just... different..."

"Different? That's one way to put it." D16's tone held a bitter edge, while a scoff escaped him. "I mean... look at me. A cogless miner bot. I'm a pathetic excuse for a Cybertronian."

Great... Hanging his head low, a heavy sigh escaped him. Why did you steer the conversation in that direction? You idiot!-

Crunch!

Snap!

D16's optics widened as he witnessed you tear away a small section of your forearm. His puzzled gaze flickering to the soft smile upon your lips, your optics shining with kindness as an idea crossed your processor.

"Wait! What are you doing?-"

Your soft smile, sweetened as you leaned back in your seat. Purposely positioning yourself just out of his reach, while you worked on the scrap piece of metal. Only taking a few moments to flatten it, using the table's edge to smooth and round off the edges, before holding up the now makeshift disk for inspection.

"I... know it's not real." D16's spark fluttered within his chassis, as his wide optics met your loving gaze. His breath hitching as you reached across the table, placing the makeshift disk into his empty cog chamber. "But maybe... a part of me could be... your 'cog?'"

Staring down at the makeshift 'cog' which now rested in the chamber, a hopeful pulse beat through your inner circuits as your spark skipped.

For a moment, he couldn't find the words to express the swirling emotions within his spark. Surprise, gratitude, affection... They all crashed together in a wonderful mess.

"I-I... I don't know what to say. This is..." D16 slowly placed a servo over his cog chamber, feeling the shape of his new 'cog' inside.

The act itself wasn't just incredibly kind but... surprisingly intimate. The fact that you would willingly give up a part of yourself for him. To make him feel more... complete.

I-I... would never believed... never have imagined...

H-Have I... overstepped somehow? You nervously swallowed a lump in your vocal processor. Was it too much?

But the invisible tug upon the corners of his lips, was enough to slowly calm your racing spark. For he couldn't help but stare at you in quiet awe, as D16's processor still reel from your act. He gently reached a servo across the table, resting it atop your own. A silent gesture of gratitude and affection, while his optics met yours.

"Th-This... was unexpected- wonderful! Thoughtful! But just... unexpected..." he lowly spoke. "How could I ever thank you?"

"Well..." your sweet smile turned slightly flirty, as your thumb caressed D16's knuckles. "Maybe... you could demonstrate your strength to me? I... heard miners are strong."

D16's faceplates heats up at your flirtatious tone, a rush of nervous excitement tingles pulsed throughout his frame.

"O-Oh..." his amber optics glanced around the bar, making sure nobody was eavesdropping as he returned your smile. "And... how would you like me to demonstrate that? Perhaps somewhere more... private?"

Butterflies entangled your wires, as D16's servo took yours in a slightly tighter grip. "Where did you have in mind?"

His breath hitched a little, feeling you checking him out. The touch of your servo beneath his sent a shiver through his circuits. Gradual confidence filled his spark, as he leaned in a bit further, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "I know a secluded spot not too far from here. It'll give us all the privacy we need for a... rigorous demonstration."

"Sounds perfect."

D16 gives you a sly smile, his frame buzzing with anticipation as you softly bit your bottom lip. Sliding out of the booth, his optics meeting yours. Extending a servo out to you, a silent offer to follow him. "This way gorgeous."

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