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obeymeluv · 3 months ago

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Enchanting a Fae - Malleus x Reader

A random Malleus x Reader

Malleus isn't sure why he comes to your dorm so often. His booted feet take him there automatically, he supposes. If Lilia were to ask him, he's just making the rounds on his usual haunts and looking for pieces of forgotten grotesques and gargoyles in need of cleaning. Ramshackle was a prime destination for all things forgotten and dusty, after all.

Perhaps it can also be a home to things muddy and sopping.

A small smile twists the edges of Malleus' lips as he blinks rain from his emerald eyes. It's ironic that he, future King of Briar Valley and fifth most powerful mage in the world, was caught unaware by the weather.

How very human. It's a beautiful experience, to drown in the quiet hush of rain.

He steps lightly but with purpose, long shadow breezing up the walkway to your door. It swells as lightning tap-dances behind him. Thunder rumbles, much like the sound he tries to swallow down as you crack the door open hesitantly, face melting into one of welcome.

Oh, child of man...Malleus feels the warm swirl in his chest tighten as you take his hand and pull him inside. He ducks his head, finally remembering to pull his horns down enough so they don't scrape the frame like they have in the past.. "Fae are supposed to be invited in," he reminds you. "And I told you, you always have a standing invitation." you say with a gentle dismissiveness that both humbles and endears him. You continue to show him that you care not for his title or his princely demands. You treat him like all the others. He does his best to stand on the welcome mat you thrifted, afraid the water will rot the ancient floor and leave you with something else to fix. You scurry back with towels and some spare clothes that smell like human. Not you, but human. Malleus can't stop the angry rumble in his throat as he realizes that smell is probably from your human friends at Heartslabyul. Clothes for other men? Disgusting. You always forget he has another set of vocal chords and he excuses the noise as 'clearing his throat'. "It's all I have," you murmur, unsure now if you should take the offer back. He can tell you're still debating that uncouth noise, the slip of the tongue.

"I accept your generosity." Malleus knows it won't be a perfect fit, but it would do better than your clothes. Not that he didn't like the idea of adorning himself in your scent. Turning away from you a little, Malleus removes the purple striped belt at his waist and undoes the many gold buttons on his curious coat. You can't tell what the black shirt is underneath but it sticks to him and you find yourself trying to tear your eyes away and commit him to memory all at once.

Not in the creepy way! Just in the 'I've never seen Malleus in just gloves, a shirt, pants, and boots before' kind of way. He's none the wiser, realizing he has a real problem on his hands. The gloves he chose are water resistant but they've somehow gone flush against his slick skin and feel more like a seal than a savior. His draconian nails cannot save him, blunted and useless in the leather. Should he use his teeth? What if he hooked them on the edge of a horn and just shimmied it off? You can practically read his mind and grab his hand before he can raise it near his head. "Don't do that! You'll ruin them!" you give a huffy laugh at his simple, boyish logic and it takes every ounce of control from all his decades of walking upright to keep his tail from smashing a hole in your floor.

He watches you drape the loaner clothes around your neck like some sort of scarf as you motion for his hand.

Your hands are almost cartoonishly small in his as they trace the stitching and try to feel for any buttons or ridges. Small, but so considerate and so warm. Dragons run warm from the fire and magic in their blood but he cannot explain why your touch is absolutely radiating and searing him in the most comforting way through the leather. He almost hopes you never figure out how to take them off so you can just fiddle with his hands forever. Malleus relaxes into your touch, basking in the care and attention.

His hopes are dashed when the glove separates slightly from his lax wrist and you free his hand. You pull off the other one. If he had no shame, he'd make a cool request for you to hold them and warm them. "Boots off, then change." you give him a small rag for his hands and point to his feet. Delighted and somewhat surprised to be your willing subject, Malleus obeys and starts to take off his boots.

He braces himself against your wall with one hand, mindful not to put himself through it like he almost did the mine tunnel at Beanfest. One boot off, he wrestles blindly with the other. Malleus is much more interested in how you tend to the pitiful fire in your fireplace. Your back is to him and whatever you're wearing leaves you shapeless but cozy. The embers crackle in the hearth, the light dancing across your face in a way that makes something baser claw at the pit of his stomach.

Shiny thing. Dragons like shiny things. You would be a most gorgeous shiny thing. Always ethereal, no matter what you're wearing or doing. If you would permit him, you would be his most valued treasure.

His heart sings at the thought, almost tying itself in a knot. That low, tingling feeling comes back to him and Malleus wants to croon his Dragon Song. It would fall on deaf ears, so to speak, as you have no dragon blood to appeal to. "Your eyes are doing that thing again." Malleus flinched a little, green fire sparking in his mouth as a warning puff of smoke dissipated between you. He didn't realize you'd come upon him again. The dragon relaxed, turning his head away as he exhaled the building smoke through his nose before it could send him into an undignified coughing fit.

Lilia had been consulting his grandmother on some behaviors as of late and both arrived to the same conclusion: he's experiencing draconian puberty. 'The thing' his eyes do are a sign of said puberty. It is the unfurling of all his emotions, the dilation of his eyes signaling his interest and trying to draw you ever deeper to him. In a way, it is a thrall, but it leaves him at your mercy as much as it should leave you in his.

Somehow, you don't take it as hard. If his world wasn't a sudden explosion of the scent of your skin and soap, the heat of your body, and the curious fondness with which you look at him, he would ponder this injustice further.

But he does not. Right now he can't even find the words for a simple lie, a diversion, as he breathes in the smell of you and tries not to melt. To have you touch him right now would be the worst thing but he's never wanted it more. He wants so badly to sink his fangs into your wrist, your neck, and let you wear the affectionate bruises like a family crest. His family crest.

"You're supposed to be getting changed," you admonish him.

"Mmm, but I can't," Malleus refrains from snuggling into the small towel you're blotting against his face. He closes his eyes and tries to sense the heat of your hand through the fabric as you move carefully around his lashes. "I'm being tended to and it would be rude to interrupt," he teases.

"No point in giving you dry clothes if you're going to get them wet putting them on." you laugh. He swallows thickly as you brush his throat dry. "Now go change," you swat him with the rag. Body towel and clothes in one hand, damp footprints follow Malleus to a spare room.

As he suspected, the clothes were ill-fit for his frame. Spade and Trappola were smaller than he was, being human and all. It was another thing entirely to get the shirt over his head without shredding it on his horns. He's afraid to move his arms too much and hopes he's not offending you by pulling the pants low enough to give his tail room. You've just finished laying his clothes out on dry towels before the fire and he's grateful.

It is a dying fire. You have a small supply of kindling and old papers to feed it but he doesn't think it will be enough. "I would like to repay your generosity with a gift. May I?" "You know you don't have to get me anything," you wave him off. He's not sure if it's a human trait or a you trait but you don't take easily to gifts.

"But it is practical and will serve us both," he knows he's caught your attention. He can see you trying to figure out what kind of gift that would be. Malleus approaches the fire, kneels down, and breathes it in. Dragons who can breathe fire, like himself, can convert outside sources of heat to their fire on rare occasions. You jump when he spits out a green flame and it roars to life, casting the walls in jeweled light and emitting a heat you didn't know you missed.

"Cozy!" you chirp. It was a gentle kind of heat that would be perfect for snuggling under a blanket. He sits on the other end of the sofa, a respectful cushion between you, and rests his head on a hand as he looks at you.

"And it will last much longer! You needn't fret about it getting out of control, either. It is my fire, and I can control it." he sees the beginning of sleep on you. Malleus grew up with Silver and was all too familiar with the slow descent into a nap. You make a valiant effort, he will give you that. You're in the middle of a soft argument about being rude to company and Malleus laughs despite himself.

He dropped in uninvited. Certainly that's more rude, yes?

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the fae more amused than he has been in a long time as your eyes get heavier. You look stunning in the green glow and he can't help but think you'd look just as ravishing in black.

In a crown. On a throne. In his bed. All of these things have the Dragon Song welling up in him again. The buzzing in his chest closes off his ears; Malleus jumps to alertness as you tug gently on the ends of his dark hair. "You let your hair down. It'll get weird if it dries in a ponytail holder."

It takes some effort, but he untangles it from his hair. "What shall I do about you, Child of Man?" he muses. "I will be forever indebted to your attentiveness."

"Did you find anything cool on your walk? You always show me." your eyes twinkle with the vestiges of consciousness. This is your one final push before succumbing to sleep, he can tell. He did, in fact, find things to show you and had forgotten them until now. When you're drenched, everything just feels heavy and soaked through. Malleus fishes the random items from his coat pocket and settles back down on the couch.

You've seen all manner of things at this point--feathers, polished rocks, twisted roots that looked interesting, pieces of statues, actual gems--and it never gets old. He presents you with a rock carved into the shape of a bear, a chunk of what might have been an old cup, and a ring.

The ring doesn't catch your eye right away. You're too busy playing with the bear. He wiggles his hand so the firelight catches it and you still. Malleus takes the bear from you, flipping your hand over to slide it on your finger. "A gift, my dearest."

"Malleus, I--" you start to protest.

"We fae are no strangers to offerings, both giving and receiving. It would be a disservice to present you with anything less." he speaks over you, his words gentle but commanding. He kisses your hand.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of dating him. It just seemed a little silly--a random no-name person and the fae prince? What kind of cliche was this?

A handsome one that was staring you right in the face.

"If you'd like more, the best I can offer you is a kingdom." he teases, lounging back against the sofa. He said it so casually that it caught you off guard. You're face is almost unbearably hot and Malleus chuckles.

"A whole kingdom?" you finally recover. "I'll take it."

Oh, there it went. Malleus felt the trap snap shut on his heart. This was the lethal moment Lilia warned him. He was helplessly smitten and enchanted. Irreversibly so.

"Truly?" he's before you in a second, one hand around your waist and the other holding the one with the ring. "Now is not the time to jest, Child of Man. I offer you my heart in earnest and the reply must be just as true!" he's staring up at you through his bangs and you swear you see more scales on his forehead.

"W-Well, yeah," you stutter. "I wouldn't mind. Just kind of thought we would do more dates and stuff first," your face was heating up again.

"We shall, as many as you like!" he's scooped you up in one arm, cradling you to his chest. You threw your legs around him so you didn't fall backwards but he doesn't notice, pulling your other hand over his shoulder. "Every day, even! As soon as the weather clears, in fact!" "But it'll be dark out!" you protest. Malleus probably could change the weather if he wanted but that wouldn't stop the ground from squelching and things being nasty. He stopped excitedly rambling about walks and things to do.

"We've walked in the dark before?" he doesn't understand why you don't want to go out this particular time. "And I have seen you to your door, safe and sound every time."

"But we're already here. Together. Inside." you explain slowly. "Maybe we could...cuddle...a little."

Oh yes. Splendid idea! Malleus all but dives for the couch at the suggestion. It is a paltry nest but it's yours. You're still recovering from the recoil, glad he fell back first and didn't squish you.

Did you just hear something rip? You hope he didn't break the couch. You don't get much time to think about it as he pulls you close and tucks you under his chin like he's been rehearsing it with a pillow. He's just the right combination of soft and muscle, of guard and gentle as he figures out where to put his hands. He settles for one supporting his head and the other cradling yours.

It's very awkward because he's mostly off the couch but he can't be bothered. You're slowly drifting to sleep in his arms and he's never felt more joy. He watches with deep interested, practically holding his breath as you sleep. Faes don't need as much sleep as humans but he doesn't think he could sleep if he tried because you've been courted by him!

Malleus is roused by his phone sometime later. The couch is small and cumbersome to him but it's held up. He begrudgingly untangled himself from you to answer it, long arm just reaching it on the table.

"Yes?"

It's Lilia. "Where are you, young man? We've been trying to reach you!"

He had fifteen missed calls from Sebek, eight from Lilia, and some text messages from Silver.

"Ensnared, I fear." Malleus smiles into the crown of your head. "I'm doomed to languish in absolute bliss. It's a very powerful enchantment, you see."

"Taken the leap, have you, Malleus?" he could hear the smile in Lilia's voice.

"I have, and I've landed in something quite wonderful."

"We fae are supposed to trick and trap, not the other way around! But...at least you're safe. Make it known that I will not tolerate--"

"Any eggs before marriage." Malleus rolled his eyes. He'd only heard that a million times recently.

"If you're not back at Diasomnia in two hours, I'll break that enchantment myself. Understood?"

"And if I object?" Malleus challenged, patting your head as you began to move.

There was a moment of silence. "I shall tell your grandmother."

Malleus hung up.

That might do the trick, he thought, brows raised. His grandmother was from an older generation of fae who were still entrenched in anti-human beliefs. Would she love you because he did? Could you enchant her, too? One look at your sleeping face, so at peace and pressed up against him, had him convinced.

Yes, he was pretty sure you could enchant any fae. It certainly worked on him.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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evcrmoresworld · 20 days ago

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Just a minute 𐙚

Rafe Cameron x Reader sfw, warnings! cheesy drunken behaviour lol

The party’s long past its peak.

The bonfire’s burned down to a lazy orange glow, casting flickering light over scattered red solo cups. The Bluetooth speaker is still playing a slow indie track, the lyrics getting lost under the crash of waves.

You step away from the group, the sand cool under your bare feet as you wander toward the darker edge of the beach. The air smells like smoke and saltwater, your hoodie barely protecting you from the breeze that is coming off the sea. Your shoulders relax as you escape into the shadows, it feels good to be away from the noise for a second.

Then you see it, a body, half curled in the sand, still as a rock.

You freeze. He’s not moving.

Your chest tightens as you approach slowly, cautiously, until you're kneeling beside him. His head’s turned away, face buried in the crook of his arm, and for one terrifying second, you think he’s—

“Rafe?” you whisper, reaching out.

Your fingertips touch his cheek. His skin is warm.

Then....he stirs.

He lifts his head slowly, eyes glassy and dazed, lips parted like he’s trying to remember how to breathe. The knot in your stomach loosens, relief flooding in.

He blinks at you once. Twice.

“Y/N…” he slurs, voice soft and full of something you don’t recognize. “Hey.”

He smiles.

Not his usual cocky grin. This one is sleepy. Sweet. Maybe even a little sad.

You blink, stunned. Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother, the hothead with too many demons and not enough patience, is looking at you like you're the first good thing he’s seen all night.

“You scared me,” you murmur. “I thought you weren’t breathing.”

He doesn’t respond, just lets his head flop back into the sand with a small groan. “M’fine,” he mumbles. “Just… tired.”

“You can’t sleep here,” you say gently, pushing lightly at his shoulder. “You’ll choke on your own puke or something.”

“No puke,” he insists, eyelids heavy. “Swear. I’m good.”

You sigh, kneeling next to him. “Rafe. Come on. Sit up.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, like you’re asking him to do way too much, but eventually he shifts, arms clumsily propping himself up.

And then, without any warning, he leans into you.

His arms loop around your waist, and he slumps forward, burying his face into your neck like it’s the only safe place left in the world.

You freeze.

This is not the Rafe Cameron you know. He’s an angry drunk, you'd been witness to numerous drunken fights, he was always so tense like he’s on the edge of snapping. But now? He’s soft. Warm. Heavy against you, like he’s letting go for the first time in forever.

His breath ghosts against your skin, and you find yourself… stroking his hair. Feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen, liking that you can have this effect on him.

You can feel him mumbling something into your throat, just noise at first. Then a slurred, “…You smell nice…”

You snort softly. “You’re drunk.”

He nods into you, then lifts his head slowly, eyes glassy as they search your face. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. “Like, really. I always thought that.”

Your eyebrows raise, but before you can say anything, he leans forward, his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulders, pressing a soft, sloppy kiss to your cheek. Then another. Then your jaw.

Your pulse skitters.

“Rafe—”

His lips brush close, too close to yours.

You turn your head with a laugh, your cheeks flushed.

He pulls back slightly, frowning like a kicked puppy.

“Why’d you do that?” he pouts, eyes narrowed. “I was bein’ sweet.”

“You were trying to kiss me.”

“So?”

You bite your lip, amused. “You’re Sarah’s brother.”

“And your her friend,” he mumbles. “Still like you.”

You sigh, brushing his hair back again, a little too gently for someone who should know better.

“Let’s get you some water,” you say, trying to stand, but his arms come back around your waist, tighter this time, like he’s not ready to let you go yet.

He rests his head against your chest again.

“Just a minute,” he whispers.

And for some reason, you give it to him.

Just a minute.

#rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #fluff #oneshot #obx x reader #obx #rafe fluff #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader

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malleleothreesome · 1 year ago

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Azul Ashengrotto x afab Reader - Aphrodisiac + Breeding

💜 summary: After an alchemy accident, you and Azul end up covered in an aphrodisiac potion ༶༶༶ 💜 warnings: afab reader, smut, LOTS OF BREEDING KINK, pregnancy mention, porn with plot??? ༶༶༶ 💜 word count: 8.4k words I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED ༶༶༶ 💜 song: Vapor - 5 Seconds of Summer "I wanna feel you in my veins I want to breathe you in like a vapor I want to be the one you remember I want to feel your love like the weather, all over me" ༶༶༶ 💜 inspired by: this ask thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

As a magicless human, Alchemy had always been your favorite class at Night Raven College. Despite lacking an innate aptitude for spell-casting, mixing and crafting potions was an artform that didn't require magic in order to bring spectacular effects into the world. Alchemy classes provided a refuge—a safe space with no barrier for entry where you could excel instead of feeling singled out for being an oddity in a sea of talented mages. You relished in the opportunity to learn about new components and elements, excitedly observing as volatile chemicals bubbled in heated pots to produce glowing, glittery pastes.

Much to your suspicion, Azul had always been particularly enthused to help you with potions, boasting how he was the most adept in the class due to his academic proficiencies, and that he was certain you'd find success with his aid. He took special interest in mentoring you, watching your delicate, nimble movements as you worked, walking you through procedures and detailed steps, and speaking knowledgeably about the ingredients in a tone that oozed expertise. His tutelage had helped you reach impressive grades on even the most challenging assignments. It wasn’t long before you found yourself spellbound by his charming intellect, deceivingly sweet demeanor, and the addictively intense gaze of his unique blue eyes.

There was always a subtle mischief hidden behind the smiling eyes and the easy charisma that suggested an ulterior motive lurking beneath his silver-tongue. Based on your observations of his interactions with other students, you assumed this was a ploy in hopes that if you had taste of the sweet, intoxicating elixir of power and success, you'd become desperate for more of his help, consequentially making you subservient and open to the idea of contracting yourself to him. In defiance of your paranoia that his motivations are not entirely altruistic, you did always feel an odd prickle in the air when he stood right behind you to monitor your actions. That sensation, a fiery buzz that hummed in your lower abdomen, always gave your heart flutters and kept you on edge as Azul's calm breaths ghosted against your hair and sent ripples of warm pleasure tingling through you. Your breath hitched in your throat as his large, gloved palms gently guided you through your motions, brushing over the bare skin on your knuckles or arms, leaving electric jolts where you felt his warmth. He smelled crisp like ocean breeze, an inviting fragrance that enveloped your mind and wrenched you out of reality and into his heady fantasy—a scene in which all you can taste are the thick, sweet notes of his dark intentions, and all you could do was choke on his cloying, dominating allure. He didn't ask permission to touch you or indicate an appropriate method to teach—no, his hands simply snaked around your waist and ran along your curves, slowly learning the feeling of your soft flesh through his gloves. Each time, you couldn't help but sink a little closer to his chest, instinctively chasing the seductive ambience radiating off of him, drowning in his captivating presence as though he was the tide pulling you under. There was no denying it—you wanted more of him.

Today's lab was no different, the air was tense and thick with charged attraction, filled with sexual tension so palpable it could be cut with a knife. The assignment was to experimentally combine various liquids, mixing and adjusting for better consistency, until you found a formula to concoct a viable, bountiful healing potion that would greatly ease the effects of injury. This assignment was a notoriously difficult, energy-draining procedure that required extreme vigilance to avoid an adverse chemical reaction that would result in a completely different type of potion, although Crewel didn’t elaborate on the exact details. After carefully pouring two compounds—one a milky white, and the other a vivid magenta—into a tall, cylindrical flask, Azul cautiously peered over your shoulder to check your concoction's progress as you stirred them. With one arm outstretched against the table to secure a good vantage point, he rested his other on your waist and leaned in closer as he studied the bubbling pink mixture. After adding an infusion of ground powder, a burst of sparkles clouded the interior of the flask, a telltale sign you were on the right track. This is the portion of the experiment where you needed to take extra caution to mix the elements together in perfect precision without faltering or taking your eyes away from your project, a delicate operation requiring the utmost concentration. Suddenly, Grim barges in and jumps on the lab station in excitement, yapping about how he wants to help, despite you and Azul explaining multiple times he has a proven history of destroying your projects.

The moment the little cat-monster attempts to extend his claws into your precious potion, Azul reacts automatically with surprising speed, his hands fly in a frenzy to scoop Grim away from your chemistry equipment. "Get off that this instant, Grim! You have no business here! Get your little paws out of that glassware this instant before you ruin another assignment! Do not interrupt us! Get away from there immediately!" Azul scolds him repeatedly while chasing him around the room, attempting to steer him to the door. "Why you foolish beast! You're far more of a liability than an asset! This experiment requires extreme care and concentration to avoid failure—a common result of your erratic, clumsy behavior!" His expression hardens with anger, eyebrows drawing into a line as Grim hisses defiantly. The little monster still hasn't relented, his hind legs clumsily scrabbling and slipping in Azul's grip as he tries desperately to cling onto the edge of the lab table, hoping for a quick paw-hold. A heavy, frustrated sigh escapes Azul's nostrils, his face morphing into one of desperation, pleading with the troublesome cat-creature to just leave you to focus your project in peace.

"How very annoying... To think he would willingly place himself in danger without even stopping to consider the consequences... what a foolish and irresponsible creature," he exhales irritably, struggling to wrestle Grim from his precarious position as his composure begins to slip, agitation creeping through his voice and shattering his typical polished and suave illusion of unflappable equanimity. He continues to scold Grim as he chases him around your station, gritting his teeth and losing his cool as the monster's cries of distress and denial ring through the entire room. Grim is an unrelenting little bastard who won't quit squirming. There isn't the slightest semblance of remorse or pity on his stupid, feline face, and Azul feels his resolve crack as he becomes utterly fed up with this spoiled brat's behavior. Grim continues to kick and howl his way through Azul's grip, determined to aid with your Alchemy project, but his clumsy movements start causing your potion to bubble and ripple in an unsettling manner. You shriek his name, begging him to just settle the hell down and be a team player.

It happens in a matter of seconds—a fizzling sound grabs your attention. You turn back around quickly and notice your reaction beginning to froth violently. Your eyes widen in horror and your mouth drops in disbelief. Azul notices your fear-wide eyes and immediately stops his futile efforts to reprimand Grim. In an instant, his gaze reflects the alarm in yours and the blood drains from his already pale cheeks. Grim runs out in a screaming huff as he exits in a frenzied flurry, knowing when to take a hint and make a clean getaway. At this point, the compound is pouring heavily from the top of the flask, spewing out onto the heating device and coating the table below. The chemical reaction is completely beyond your control now, its speed increasing exponentially, bubbling and exploding, kicking out thick, unmanageable clouds of murky pink and purple fumes. Within seconds, it covers the lab tables in an almost misty haze as you choke and sputter in a coughing fit, Azul gasping and choking right alongside you, panic flashing across his face. An eerie glow seeps through the thick liquid as a swirling mist appears from inside the glass. Without warning, it erupts directly toward the two of you before either of you have time to take cover—shattering the flask and showering the fronts of your faces and bodies in its noxious, intoxicating fluids. Both you and Azul choke out muffled yells and groans, the sticky, glittering mixture clinging to the fabric of your clothes and the exposed skin on your faces.

The next thing either of you register is Crewel's obnoxious bark as he spits out sharp commands to open the windows and clear out all the air from the room. Coughing, you gasp for fresh oxygen, suddenly becoming very aware of how fast your heart is racing. It thumps so hard and so forcefully inside of your ribcage that the noise reverberates loudly in your ears, overwhelming your senses. However, no amount of labored inhaling can free you from the toxic, vaporous gas; every molecule in your lungs has already been bombarded and completely overcome by the potion’s effects. As its intoxication takes hold of you, a wicked fever seems to roar within you, followed by a horribly slow heat that makes your limbs ache. Every orifice of your body is saturated by the miasma—liquid slips between your lips, gushing down the front of your body to coat your exposed neck and chest. You taste the surprisingly sweet potion on the inside of your mouth; its taste lingers sweet and tacky on the flat of your tongue, coating your throat. You'd panic that you just consumed some horrific cocktail with traces of corrosion or stomach-rotting acid, if it weren't for the fact that Crewel seems more frustrated than concerned for your well-being. Rather than damaging you, whatever substance was expelled seems to be having quite the opposite effect; you feel your body becoming more energetic, your head becoming lighter, and a bubbling rush of warmth seems to radiate all over from the inside out, changing your physiology into a fertile garden in need of sowing. Adrenaline rushes through you and awakens your basal instincts, forcing you to acknowledge every excruciating detail of your body in an erotic manner. Arousal slithers through your veins like venom, poisoning all remaining thoughts and rationality, as a throbbing, almost blinding wave of pleasure overtakes your body. You become intensely, achingly aware of your physical needs, and all those needs center upon an impassioned desire to be filled, stretched, and seeded full—the frantic urge to be bred nearly splits you in half and makes your lower belly cramp in a hot flash of want. For a second, you hear Azul stutter something to you, his voice wavering on the verge of cracking with the desire that the aphrodisiac had triggered. You lock eyes with Azul, pupils blown wide as lust makes his oceanic gaze shimmer. The front of his slacks have grown embarrassingly tight with the straining girth of his aroused cock. You meet his clouded eyes, almost embarrassed by your wanton thoughts and the desperate throbbing between your thighs.

It is only a split second of recognition, a blurry, sweaty haze of unfathomable passion, before your shared moment is interrupted. Crewel shouts at you to look him in the eyes, snapping you out of your sexual frenzy, even if only for a split second. He stares at you, his gray-streaked hair framing the contoured features of his face as he cocks an eyebrow. The elder gives your flushed skin and trembling body a once-over.

"Just as I thought. It's a dopamine-based aphrodisiac. At least nothing fatal or life threatening, but enough to send you both into a delirious, euphoric-fueled rut," he assesses calmly, unfazed. "What's more, the way the explosion altered the structure of the compound has made its properties even more potent and uncontrollable. In terms you incompetent pups will understand, we're past the stage of antidote or reprieve, and you both have mere moments before the hormones will reach maximum capacity and you two will need to find some private location to release the effects..." He trails off. From his expression, you can tell there is more he would like to add to the situation, yet a worrisome crinkle furrows his brow as his eyes remain on Azul, as though assessing whether the situation is really as under control as he wishes. "Both of you bad dogs listen carefully. Do not even dare to even breathe a word of what transpired here—you are to wait in isolation for five to eight hours until its effects wear off. Under no circumstances should you share physical contact with anyone else for the remainder of the day." He holds Azul's gaze longer than necessary, silently threatening him not to take advantage of this situation—but Azul seems far too caught up in the spell and too infatuated by the burning image of you, sweating, panting, and splayed before him.

"Should anyone at all realize that the two of you have taken any sort of love potion or been afflicted in this manner, it could create a massive scandal, and I'll punish you both so mercilessly for causing such an indiscretion, you'll be licking my boots in front of the entire school!" his deep voice booms in threat. "Have I made myself understood, dear pets?" Crewel snaps, the sting of his whip making both you and Azul wince and nod profusely. He leads you and Azul to the decontamination area of the lab, ushering you two into separate stalls so you can change into fresh, dry garments and wipe off the evidence of the explosion from the potion. When you both emerge, it takes Crewel less than a second to glance from the massive bulge straining against Azul's clothing, to where your heaving, quivering chest is spilling over the low neckline, your nipples hard and pressing obscenely through the thin fabric. He glares down his nose at the two of you in distaste.

"Five to eight hours," he hisses, eyes narrowing, almost sizing you and Azul up like he's waiting for one of you to give in to the pressure of the aphrodisiac. He throws open a back door, gesturing for you and Azul to disappear. Azul leaves first, a flushed, jumbled mess of conflicting emotions that are only intensified as he can feel every agonizing beat of his aroused heart pulse in the heat of his hard dick. You follow closely behind, but before you can cross the doorway, Crewel shoots his hand out to grip you by the upper arm, turning you to him as he towers over you, giving you an intense glare before sighing and pulling a small vial of bluish, iridescent potion from his bag and thrusting it into your hands.

"Since I know you won't be able to resist such a delectable temptation from that damn fishy bastard," his words drip with annoyance as he continues, "at least be safe, Pup. Go have a nice screw if that's what you really desire. The serum I just gave you is a contraceptive—just one sip and you will have full reproductive control, in case Azul isn't a decent man about his desires." You blink up at him in utter bewilderment. "Under no circumstances will I allow my star pupils to fall prey to the temptations and consequences of unprotected intimacy in the midst of this reckless hormone rush... I can't allow something like this to affect you or your ambitions. My students can only go to greater places." You feel his eyes burning with concern as he brushes your cheek, sending you a warning in his eyes and urging you to please think it through and consider it. "You are interested in Azul, are you not? I won't allow you to get involved in anything you don't consent to. If you don't feel safe, I can escort you straight to Ramshackle dorm and I will handle Ashengrotto myself." His stare, once cold and imposing, is now warm with protective care, as he looks you up and down with a gentle softness you didn't expect from your professor. The paternalistic expression on his face strikes your soul and pulls on your heartstrings a bit. After all, it's the type of support you feared was lost to you once you found yourself trapped in Twisted Wonderland with no hope of ever seeing your family again. With all the gentleness of a father, he squeezes your shoulder and gazes deeply into your eyes. You assure him that it's okay, you trust Azul. Nodding, your professor finally allows you passage out the door.

You had barely made it beyond the courtyard doors before Azul approached you with a sickly sweet, almost giddy look on his face. His steel-blue irises burned bright with anticipation, accompanied by a hint of something dark and salacious flickering in the shadows. The corners of his lips pulled taut, curling upward in a devious smile. A tremulous shudder passed through you and prickled up your spine at the thought of those hypnotizing eyes studying you while you lay enraptured beneath him, completely at his mercy. As he takes a few tentative steps toward you, his right hand glides and rests softly on your hip, making you gasp with surprise, your heartbeat fluttering and pounding deafeningly in your ears. Azul leans close to your ear, his breath coming out in hot, rapid pants, a carnal excitement that threatens to spill over and devour you whole. You swallow in nervous expectation, hardly daring to look into his lustful gaze. With his elegant index finger, he lifts your chin up and you are left gasping and flushed beneath him, lips parted to beg him for more as his gentle caress lingers. He flashes a devilishly handsome smile before tracing your lower lip with a seductive slowness. "Please, allow me to escort you back to Octavinelle where I can properly tend to you and your condition," the breathiness of his voice and his lack of composure cause your clit to throb, your inner walls pulsating, pleading to be stretched and ravaged. His lecherous advances and insinuations combined with the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins is making you so aroused, even standing close to him is threatening to make you cum. The very fabric of his essence seems to burn a shade darker—there is a terrifying intensity to his ardent desire for you, yet also a rawness and exposure you hadn't seen on his usually suave and polished facade.

Your whole body flushes when your gaze lands upon the size of his aching erection, an impressive tent straining tightly against his immaculate slacks, begging for attention through the dark material of his trousers. There is a manic, primal gleam that's spreading rapidly across his entire visage; he looks rabid with uncontainable greed, and you shudder at the thought that Azul will use your body to satisfy his own dark and twisted curiosities. "Please... It's the least I could do. After all, our most unfortunate situation is all due to my own recklessness," Azul pleads. His tone of voice is unwaveringly convincing in its sweet charm, yet you cannot escape the licentious twinkle that betrays his intentions, eyes ablaze with passion and lips quivering at the thought of making you his forever.

"Please... Just let me serve you and tend to your every whim," he begs. Even though the tone of his voice suggests innocence, you're reminded once more that Azul Ashengrotto believes the true intent in a plea is only to benefit his own ambitions—how ironic, then, that you find yourself overwhelmed with the desire to listen to the velvety cadence of his whispered sweet-nothings until you orgasm multiple times around the girth of his hard dick. Before you can speak, he reaches out and threads his fingers between your own. It was impossible to say no to the lilting honey of his tone, nor was there any will to fight as his firm and commanding hands ushered you towards the teleportation door. He practically pulls you into the mirror with him, and with a twinkly, delighted laugh, his covetous hand grasps you harder than ever as the portal draws closer, his eyes and touch almost reverential—eager, desperate, craving. The surface of the mirror swallows both of you up as the shadows distort the edges of your vision. The whole world spins around you both before the smell of the sea overwhelms your senses—the crispness of ocean air fills your lungs, and a feeling of cool relief washes over your flushed skin. In seconds, Azul is shoving you into an elevator and hitting the button to his suite. When the metal doors slide open, he gently shuffles you forward as he urges your body closer and closer toward his bedroom.

After his dorm door slams shut, your bodies mindlessly work to free the other's of their pesky and offending clothing, eager and restless fingers tearing and ripping at each article as though your lives depended on it. As each piece of clothing is discarded on the floor, new heated skin presses desperately into another as your erotic moans reverberate through the air. It feels electric, the way your sensitive, exposed bodies seek each other out, pawing and grasping at any available flesh and kissing any naked skin you can reach. Your hot, yearning mouth hungrily seeks Azul's for an urgent, feverish kiss—it is sloppy, desperate, almost savage as you share the intensity of your lusty feelings, gasping into each other's mouths, sucking, nibbling, tasting the sweet and sticky aphrodisiac concoction still lingering on both of your tongues. When Azul finally sheds his trousers, his painfully erect member juts out, throbbing and eager, bouncing happily and proudly as it quivers with eagerness. His knees weaken at the sudden release of the tension he'd suffered since the accident, the air a bit brisk against the heat of his erection, which begs to nestle itself securely into an inviting heat and fill your womb with the lusty seed it desires to spurt forth. His cock is ruddy and reddened, and his sack hangs swollen and tight with pent-up pressure. He doesn't think it possible for it to throb and swell even larger, yet its angry head and veins grow dark and twitch from his hot blood pumping. His hand mindlessly falls to his cock, and at the first stroke to his aching member, a needy whine catches in his throat. There is no time for shyness or apprehension. Whatever spell you were both under was driving you forward—like two planets caught in the gravity of an irresistible force, each gravitationally pulled toward the other with no means to stop. The rational part of his brain has been overwhelmed by an urgent instinct. Azul knows without a shadow of doubt that the only cure for this overwhelming haze of sexual depravity is to thrust himself deep inside the hot, velvety cunt of his precious lab partner.

Next thing you knew, you were pushed roughly, falling backwards before connecting against the smooth, luxurious blankets covering his mattress. He follows eagerly, letting his entire weight drop against your form and trapping your supple body beneath his. It was then, right then, when Azul found that the feeling of his aroused cock pressing against your thigh was unbelievably divine—a warm and pleasant tingling sensation spreading all over his hot, hard shaft and emanating out from his loins. With a contented hum, Azul can't resist the urge to buck his hips against your warm skin, stroking his arousal a little further, groaning at the exquisite friction. What a delicious sight you are—all nude and aroused—splayed and exposed across his bed. The effects of the potion have left you looking thoroughly wrecked, legs open, dripping and hot with an aroma so alluring, it nearly knocks the air out of his lungs. You are positively lovely, just as he'd always dreamed, with your petals unfurled and beckoning, enticing him further and drawing him in as your soft moans coaxed his cock in closer. To see you writhing and panting, the flush of your skin as you burned with longing for him...it was exactly as he'd always wanted it, almost as though someone had crafted the perfect image just to fulfill his darkest wishes. A surge of erotic fantasy comes upon him, and Azul's breath hitches in his throat as he ponders, briefly, about your womb filled with his seed, his beautiful angelfish round with child. He wants nothing more than to unceremoniously bury himself as deep within as he can, to push his thick, pulsating shaft as far as you could manage and stay buried to the hilt for days. His body quivers with excitement as a particularly vulgar dream reenters his mind. He had longed, always, to possess a most lascivious power over you—the power to make you writhe and squirm in bliss, and more importantly, in total and unbreakable dependence and submission for him—the neediest, sluttiest mess imaginable. Perhaps he'd have to thank Grim later for consequentially bringing about this fortunate chain of events.

Azul begins stroking himself fully, unabashed in his view of the sight before him. You don't protest the show. In fact, a high pitched, whimpery moan escapes you as you bite into your thumb to stifle the volume, but the sound is not missed, the harsh pang in his cock proof enough. After some thought, he realizes that he much preferred when you had been writhing and moaning quite uninhibitedly a moment earlier. You shift uncomfortably underneath his heated gaze as his eyes drink in every little curve, every little wrinkle and fold of your dripping pussy. Your toes curl inward and the ache deep within you demands attention. "You're so perfect, my little angelfish. Your body is exactly as I imagined," his saccharine voice admits as he leans forward, letting his fingers dance across the swell of your breasts. His left hand cradles your jaw and throat as his right continues its delicate massage across the plush pillow of your breasts, toying with the perked nubs of your nipples as his thumbs swirl small circles against the delicate flesh.

Azul's gentle touch ignites flames under his fingertips that follow his descent down to the juncture of your legs. The first brush against your swollen bundle of nerves and slit has your spine arching upwards, making his cock throb even more painfully, stiffening under the visual of your trembling body. A whine escapes and your hips grind involuntarily, the heat building intensely as his fingers begin to experimentally spread your folds slowly, running the tip of a finger from your core to the hood of your pearl. Without warning, Azul swipes upwards, expertly pulling back the hood and exposing the raw, sensitive flesh of nerves underneath, pinching down on the fleshy bud and causing you to yelp loudly in shock. With a satisfied grin, his forefinger begins to toy and tweak the hardened bud, rubbing gentle, rhythmic patterns over and over against the bundle as a chorus of delightful, high-pitched squeals fill his dormitory. After a few more ministrations, his hands continue down, delving his fingers straight into the moistened and heated opening, swiping up the slick mess you had coated his palm in. Two long fingers deftly slip right between your folds, caressing their way around your labia, your wet walls clenching around his fingertips desperately. "This wetness, for me?" Azul chuckles wickedly, crooking his fingers upward and brushing your g-spot with a knowing curl of his fingers, sending you spasming, gasping, and writhing in ecstasy, eyelashes fluttering wildly. "Oh, my dearest—so precious, my angelfish. That's it, so beautiful, just for me..." His voice drips with lecherous intent, his body moving without even the slightest hint of hesitation as though you were merely an extension of his own and not even a separate entity. Your wetness coats his fingers easily as Azul keeps sliding his fingers into your wet heat until the pads of his fingers touch all your deepest, hidden places, causing more sweet moans to fall from your lips and echo through his room. He scissors and curls his digits inside, stroking you slowly as though wanting to feel every bump, crease, and ridge along your walls, claiming his ownership over your deepest parts with a sinister delight.

A pressure builds and teeters precariously right at the precipice—the curling of his digits work feverishly to milk every drop of pleasure he can from your shuddering body, the warm flood of wetness drenching his eager fingers and making his head fall back with a sensuous moan. He continues with his relentless assault against your pussy, whispering filthy compliments about how badly he wanted to fuck you and how sexy it is when you take his fingers so well. Your legs flutter open wider, inviting his slim and nimble digits deeper within you, fucking them vigorously as your release begins to pool, rising closer to the boiling point. The aphrodisiac grips its poisonous talons deeper into your mind, warping and bending everything into an unshakable desire to submit yourself and your pleasure to the hands of the devious sea creature above you. He leans down, his silvery eyes roving over your face in an intense appraisal, his features drawn in with concentration, mapping out how to unravel you—there wasn't an emotion or micro expression that slipped past his vision as he carefully considered all the factors of how best to please and overwhelm your body with incomparable rapture. There isn't anything else beyond the present—no outside forces, nor worries about the consequences of being intimate. There's simply no room in your mind to think at this point, the cloudiness of the effects rendering your body vulnerable—you give yourself up entirely. He drinks up every breath, every shake and shiver, as he continues calculating your climax, relishing in each tiny noise or action he drew from you, meticulous with the acquisition of your bliss.

"Yes. Give in." he laughs maniacally, his face fully consumed in the intense madness of his lustful insanity. "Give in to every sensation. Let me drive you wild... Do as I command and cum," Azul demands you through his laughter, his breathing rapid and heavy as he watches your eyes rolling back. He moans in awe as the loud, slick sounds of his hand filling your soaking cunt meet his ears and a deep flush travels across his collarbones. His own needy cock leaks, eagerly anticipating what's next as its engorged state bulges obscenely, its every vein throbbing with virile desperation. Your high-pitched moans continue for some time as his pace stays fast, until you can finally feel your entire body tensing up, the fire coiling inside your gut ready to explode any moment. Everything builds higher and higher to the peak, every muscle and nerve fiber in your body primed to receive that last push that would send you catapulting over the cliff. As he feels your walls tremble, Azul moans along with your high-pitched wailing. A deranged smile stretches across his face and his silver eyes fill with amusement and fascination.

Azul leans into your ear, whispering sweet nothings mixed with commanding, demanding words to finally succumb, "That's it...Let go..." He twists and digs deeper, stroking the perfect places inside you, hitting the correct spots relentlessly in an overload of mind-bending, debauchery-fueled, electric-spark pleasure, forcing your senses to dissociate from reality. His thrusting hand matches the frantic racing of his own heart, unable to keep the carnal fever down. "Give in... submit yourself fully, and surrender that orgasm. It's mine. I've worked for it, and now it belongs only to me." He whispers in a devilish growl, nibbling on your ear as his strokes become rougher, harder, faster—you can hardly stand the overwhelming force of your pleasure before its sweet relief crashes like waves. A broken moan leaves your mouth, a pure exaltation of uncontrolled passion. Noises come tumbling out and spilling over until you finally dissolve into a messy orgasm, shrieking his name in pleasure as his hand slows its motions but doesn't stop, keeping its pressure steady and rocking the whole of your existence until your mind goes blank. "Such a good, obedient angelfish, giving me all of your sweet, succulent cum... all for me, yes?" Azul hums sweetly, teasingly. "Oh, this is so precious," he sighs, feeling the quaking and trembling of your fluttering walls. His expression melts into one of deep satisfaction and pride.

"There you go, my lovely angelfish. Just as I said I would," Azul croons. Without another word, his hand, wet with your desire, abandons its ministrations, pulling from your depths with a slick pop, leaving your empty cunt to tremble from his absence. Azul brings his fingers to his mouth for a lewd taste test, licking the juices from his hand as a self-indulgent smirk plays upon his lips. As he rolls the digits around his tongue, sampling the essence of your cunt, a sharp groan rumbles deep from within his chest, the vibration coursing down his spine and directly into his throbbing member. Even as his breath grows heavy from the feeling of his needy cock, the smug, triumphant smirk doesn't disappear. He enjoys the honeyed, tangy sweetness and savors the lingering sensation on his taste buds—another string attached, making it utterly impossible for him to let go. A low chuckle is heard from deep in his chest, dark and hauntingly mirthful. From his pleased sigh, you could easily read the insatiable hunger growing within his gleaming eyes—clearly the lust in his loins has only been ignited further—a starving, manic beast hungry for even more from your yielding form, an insatiable craving that can't be satiated so easily. His cock visibly twitches, begging for him to mount you and thrust his painfully aroused length as far as he can manage deep into your eager, spasming pussy. The aphrodisiac courses through his veins with all the potency of a tropical storm, whipping every nerve into a frenzy as the instinct takes hold in Azul's most primordial thoughts and drives all those cravings with an irrepressible urgency—he simply has to get your pregnant. Azul's cheeks flush with a reddish-pink shade as he fixates on you, the hunger in his gaze absolutely feral, filled with a single-minded lustful determination to breed you.

When your eyes meet his maddened, love-struck stare, you are overcome with the same desperation radiating from your womb, urging to be stuffed and claimed by his thick load. At last, the two of you had connected in this all-consuming fire—a conflagration of desire so severe and a love so encompassing that both of you could do nothing more than dance on the ashes and burn with the flames. In that moment of recognition, an irresistible, bewitching aura emanates from him and mesmerizes you as the air of mystery dissipates from his visage, the eroticized specter of the fearsome and dangerous, devious mogul melts away to reveal the raw intensity of the young man underneath, exposed in all his ardent, unfettered passions. Here stands Azul, naked with vulnerability, desiring only a love that no other has been able to truly give. He's always tried to prevent access to his real emotions, afraid of the kind of cruelty they would reap upon him if they were found. He didn't believe himself to be worthy of their regard, let alone capable of receiving someone's genuine affections. With you, though, there were none of his signature theatrics, no polite deflection, nor charming evasiveness; he gave you full permission to view him and all of his repressed feelings on full display. An open book, Azul trusts you enough to expose his heart fully, so transparent in his neediness. Since he brought you to his bedroom, there was never the slightest hint of deception in his tone—not once had he attempted to distract you, nor used a tactic or trick. Perhaps his true intentions for getting close to you were more admirable than you thought, his desperation to get close to you was merely just a pining for your love rather than a sordid trick. His earnest, loving gaze, combined with the grip of your desire, makes something finally shift within, like the turning of the tide—a sense that it was fated for you to fall and crash so desperately, madly, and completely for him—a long-awaited inevitability, just as he had already done for you long before this Alchemy accident. Azul was an adoringly gentle yet brutally powerful force, a pillar in your life you can lean into without hesitation. All of your fears, worries, and frustrations are suddenly null, evaporating into the thin air of Octavinelle, carried into the gentle waters outside the window and disappearing into the seas.

Nothing is more erotic than seeing his carefully maintained veneer crumbling before you and letting himself fall apart at the seams. No longer hiding his desires or his ambitions for you, Azul's lusty hunger has you excited, aroused, and turned on like never before. You return his lustful, hazy expression and Azul is drawn right into the softness of your inviting stare. Your mouth parts to allow a needy moan to pass as you buck your hips slightly, inviting him to finally claim your body as his, a beautiful sacrifice you're eager to make for a beautiful siren such as him. With a deep, lewd groan, Azul pushes off your trembling body, propping himself onto his knees and groping at your chest, making you mewl. There's no trace left of the smooth businessman persona, not even a hint of it lingers when his wet mouth kisses at your mounds and his large hands explore the contours of your curves, his fingertips desperately memorizing the way you're put together, tracing every bit of available flesh. His eager tongue swirls at your peaked nipples, moaning in appreciation and delight. Your mind is being swallowed by a bubbling wave of bliss that has no end as his hand trails across your hips, his touch is as gentle as a ripple in the water. With a shyly embarrassed flush and a sigh of wanton abandonment, you surrender entirely to him—letting the sea creature drown you in ecstasy, deeper and deeper, into the endless ocean. He caresses your stomach gently, the calloused pads of his fingers exploring the sensitive skin where he knows your womb lies. Your heart stumbles as his lips twist upward in an impish smirk at the thought of all the cum he's soon going to pump straight into the cavity. He palms your belly, which would soon carry his progeny as an inevitable result of this union, imagining his angelfish's stomach rounded and taut with his unborn child, perhaps, even more than once—Azul's thoughts are full of fantasies about filling you and fucking your pretty little womb over and over until he succeeds and you're blessed with his babies. Azul hums at the image of your pregnant body, worshiping the slope of your thighs and rubbing his hands up your waist and the undersides of your breasts. Azul knows that even if it doesn't work right away, he is more than prepared to breed you again and again as many times as necessary. He is more than certain you'll eventually give him a consortium of little octopus-human hybrids. After all, you'd offered yourself up in the end. Who was he not to take what was freely given?

He grasps the back of your knee to prop up your leg in the air, shifting closer. In one fell swoop, your tender thighs are flung open, revealing your glistening cunt. Azul moans, running the rough pad of his finger right up the slit of your lips. You're already a mess, his slick hand had not been able to satisfy your heat at all, it only created a further yearning deep within that could only be satisfied by his aching cock. Azul settles against the fronts of your thighs, letting the stiff heat of his bulging erection nestle against the dripping lips of your cunt, already poised and eager for insertion. The anticipation causes the two of you to tremble slightly at the intimacy, your lips wet and sticky as they run against the length, his cock drooling freely from the tip and leaking beads of sticky, precum fluid right across your folds. With one more affectionate, sweet peck against the corner of your lip, and another one right upon your forehead, Azul slowly glides inside. A shared cry of euphoria leaves your mouths simultaneously as Azul buries the full length of his throbbing cock into your sopping entrance, thrusting powerfully to hilt balls-deep. The pure, erotic rapture of finally consummating your love floods both of your veins. His dick is filling you in the most indescribable way and stretching your cunt so deliciously that stars appear behind your eyes. A glorious symphony of relief sings in your blood while his hard girth massages your innermost walls as though he were meant for no other—like he was perfectly made to be the puzzle piece filling your immaculate pussy. You both gasp sharply in unison as the sensation sends tremors down his shaft. Every vein, ridge, and inch of his length drags deeply with each thrust as he grinds you thoroughly, bringing your clits into tantric connection and rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves back and forth in perfect time with the rocking motion. Each snap of his hip makes the two of you share a joyful sob as he pleasures you in the most divine manner.

A low and sinful groan passes through your lips as your hands grip him tighter, begging him to increase his momentum and pace. Azul's hands clutch you in a tight embrace, his chest to yours with every inch of his hardness fully embedded into your velvety passage, sending white-hot sparks of pleasure shooting to the deepest recesses of your innermost being, triggering the sudden rush of a climax that is starting to rise to its precipice. Azul groans as your juices run down his balls, pooling around his sack and providing more lubrication for his relentless drive inside of you. You clench and flutter around him, squeezing your inner walls with every desperate urge for friction and movement, drawing Azul's eye right up to yours in a lusty daze. His body is coiling for release, ready to cum, and there's a glitter of utter happiness in his expression. His lips quiver with desire and he smirks as he feels you clamping and spasming around his rock-hard dick, begging him to breed you like the little slut that he secretly knows you are, all while knowing deep down you'd get so unbelievably plump and swollen with his hatchlings, he'd hardly be able to move his tentacles with all the kids crawling over him.

It's more intense, and far more electrifying than the filthy fantasies that had invaded his sleep every lonely evening whenever he gave in to his insufferable yearning for you. He'd envisioned this, over and over—what it would feel like to make you orgasm, just how satisfying it would feel to cum with you at the same time, and how heavenly it would be to stretch your cunt so snugly—and yet, in this moment, it surpasses his imagination exponentially, eliciting a complete flood of sensual pleasure all throughout his senses. Not even his wildest wet dreams had prepared him for the heady intoxication and undeniable high he experiences with you—being passionately and physically intertwined, wrapped around the most sublime euphoria that was possible—a wave so dizzying that there's absolutely no going back to life without the other once your bodies have succumbed and reached that ultimate, highest peak.

When Azul hits the point of no-return, his legs start shaking as though his limbs were going to fall off. His fingers tangle roughly in your hair as he drags your mouth closer to meet his. With each heavy thrust, he swallows every moan that erupts from your throat. His movements become less coherent, rougher, and disjointed as the strength of your cunt's embrace pulses tightly around his shaft and urges him toward the edge. Suddenly, an intense wave of satisfaction takes hold and shoots to the tip of his cock, pulsating violently in need to release its seed. Azul can't help but groan loudly into your ear as he slams his cock into you with ferocious strength, fucking the life and soul right out of your being while a high-pitched scream accompanies the splash and squelching noises of your pussy. Your mouth has gone slack, jaw dropping as you cry out his name and climax with such power that it whips you into a complete frenzy of desperation, sending your vision dancing with lights. You quake and shiver under the force of his fervor and ecstasy, writhing on the mattress and throwing your head backward to soak in your overwhelming, toe-curling rapture. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pounding you fiercely as you wail and shatter with a rush of emotions so intense, you don't know if you will ever put yourself back together. A strained whine and a few sharp pumps later, a surge of hot, wet euphoric heat shoots from Azul's balls and spurts out in ribbons of his own spent climax as he spends his load of pearly cum directly into your waiting womb, splashing your tight channel with a continuous stream—painting every crevice of your silken, fluttering, vice-like depths a glossy white. Azul is unable to help himself as his hips start grinding into yours with slow rolls, fucking and stuffing every drop of his sticky cream deeply and ensuring it remains securely nestled in your folds. Every remaining bit of sexual tension floods out as though you'd been submerged in the most heavenly waterfall of pleasure imaginable. Azul whines weakly into the pillow and your moans join, eventually dissipating into a heavenly silence as you sink heavily back to reality.

Time slows to an almost stop and your vision gets a bit hazy and bleary as the aphrodisiac magic completely pulses away. You two lay side by side on the soft blankets, still in the bed and soaked with sweat. Neither of you move for quite some time. Just in the wake of your post-orgasm, everything becomes intensely surreal. You try to breathe quietly so Azul doesn't hear and as his head rests on your breasts. He, too, is heaving with difficulty, each inhale is a conscious decision. He clings tightly against you, hands threaded together like a lifeline, afraid to let go. One last sentence leaves his mouth—a whisper that could have easily been missed by anyone except for you. It was a question.

"Are we both in love?" Azul asks with such hesitance, you think maybe you've misheard his inquiry. He is lying right by your side. His face is dangerously close to yours, and the way his stormy, ocean azure eyes reflect every emotion swirling inside allows you to see the years of hurt that's plagued him. He's absolutely enchanted, like you are the perfect dream come true—everything he'd ever imagined in one living, breathing, precious human body—a lover so magnificent he could hardly comprehend. He studies your expression with awe and reverence. A look so intensely raw it burns right through your heart and lights up the space in your soul that you never before realized was reserved just for him. "Because I love you... Truly and deeply. So much that I don't know how it was possible, even," Azul admits freely, without the least hint of apprehension or nervousness. You can feel the intensity and honesty of his words radiate through his trembling fingertips, through the places where his naked skin touched yours—he doesn't try to mask the pure unadulterated warmth and delight that leaks through the shaky but firm expression on his flushed face.

A wide, cheerful and genuine grin breaks out against your features as you nod enthusiastically, and it is almost as though a heavenly, soothing light has poured over his entire world. It feels like a dream, a fairytale that is too good to be true. Yet here you both lie, doused in the magic of the concoction, clinging to each other and to that euphoric elation after giving in to the passions and the chemical bonds. It felt incredible, it felt natural and familiar and right. This wasn't anything artificial, rather the long overdue acknowledgement of feelings that were there all along—a kindling of romance that was never forced, but rather fanned to life after many days spent as Alchemy partners. After seeing each other every day, getting to know each other's quirks, and learning of each other's daily habits, the intimacy had bloomed and nurtured into something tender and real. The closeness the potion provided simply allowed the two of you the confidence needed to step across a boundary and pursue things.

"This won't be something short lived... you understand what I am saying, yes?" His tone has a tinge of fear creeping in and you can't help but stroke the outline of his cheekbones. This feeling will not end with a simple fuck, you knew that deep in the marrow. There will be more of that to come. In fact, the thought of it has your cunt pulsing, your sex aching at the idea. "I simply won't have you anywhere else but with me, and here in my dorm. I just won't be able to be happy otherwise..." Azul's voice quivers as the vulnerable sincerity flows.

"Yes, Azul. Yes, I understand and I feel the exact same," you chuckle and cradle his head. His blue eyes crinkle slightly from the beam across his lips, and Azul can't resist pulling you in for a feverish kiss, groaning from the rush. That familiar, sinfully blissful high is starting to take hold again, the rush of the aphrodisiac stirring something fiery back into a pleasant burn. The chemical’s grip on the two of you continues. After all, nothing will stop the magic from bringing you closer together. He murmurs a seductive promise into the curve of your throat that he won't stop until his load drips and slides right out of your swollen cunt—he's going to breed you the rest of the night and spill as much of himself deep within as he can. He has no doubt you're going to give him a child that will cement this loving bond permanently.

Listen I don't know HOW this HAPPENED, I DON'T understand how I wrote this much. I am DELIRIOUS and I need to go pick up some pizza for dinner, so I wish I could say more here but I can't right now. I'll update this part when I get back home. I just needed to get this out into the UNIVERSE. THANK YOU ALL!!! HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! <3333 Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst azul ashengrotto x reader smut #twst azul ashengrotto smut #twisted wonderland azul x reader smut #azul ashengrotto x reader smut #twst azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto smut #twst azul #twisted wonderland azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland azul #azul x reader #my writing

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astraystayyh · 2 months ago

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to hold you close

hyunjin x reader. established relationship and fluff. this is a tribute to falling asleep next to your lover. it’s just sickeningly sweet and domestic because i miss being in love. enjoy reading x (not proofread)

autumn. you remember it as clearly as the sound of your name. it should have been your fourth date with hyunjin, but you were terribly sick. an unyielding cold caging your body in fits of coughing, and a faint, fluctuating fever. still, hyunjin insisted that he’d like to see you.

“i won’t be much fun,” you had told him over the phone, looking at the pile of used up Kleenex by your side.

“i’ll be fun enough for the both of us. plus, i miss you.” his voice was cheeky, teasing, and you remember chuckling despite yourself, warmth pooling in your chest like saccharine syrup dripping down your ribcage. you felt it even as sickness pressed heavy against your lungs, even as your skin felt like a burden to carry. you felt him.

“i miss you too, my personal jester,” you joked, and hyunjin did not reply for a while. quiet, save for the faint sound of his breathing. the truth is hyunjin has not felt like a sane man since he has known you. you’re rambling over how terrible the cold feels and yet, all he seems to think of is the simple word you used. absentmindedly. my, you said. hyunjin would sacrifice the sun if it means you’d keep calling him yours.

and so, hyunjin came over later that night. finding you in your “least prettiest state”, you argued, and yet, he still looked at you with that same shining glaze coating his eyes. like he was beholding the world’s eighth wonder. like he could pluck the stars out of the sky one by one just to give them to you, with a huge smile on his face too, no matter how tedious of a task, no matter how long it’d take.

you put on a horror movie, the scent of pumpkin spice wafting in the air, though you could not smell the candle hyunjin brought with him. you insisted he’d get sick and yet he refused to sit away from you. his shoulder pressed to yours, your head leaning against his forearm.

that’s when it happened— falling asleep together for the very first time.

you woke up to your chests pressed against one another. somewhere during the night he had pulled you atop him, his hands cradling your back so gently it made you wish to weep.

you understood then, when he tenderly kissed the tip of your nose and sniffled right after, that you’d love him a lot. that there is no other path for you but to love him. that there is a home for you to build in the empty pools of his collarbones, a place to rest against the ridges of his arms.

it terrified you. it thrilled you all the same.

—

winter. it is one of the coldest nights of the year. you’ve spent most of it hunched over on your desk, finishing up an urgent report for tomorrow. hyunjin tried to stay awake for as long as he could, humming and drawing, watching a show and flipping all over your mattress. still, sleep caught him, took him away from you before you could kiss him goodnight.

you are in your bed, you almost cry when your head hits the pillow. today has been tiring and excruciatingly long. silent tears slip down your cheeks. the covers do nothing to ease the cold.

then, hyunjin stirs.

your breath hitches. did you wake him?

slowly, blindly, his hand pats the empty space between you. then, he touches your arm—pulls you close, tucking your head beneath his chin. his breathing is slow, steady, his pulse faint beneath your ear. he sighs, almost in contentment, before melting into your hold.

he reached for you in his sleep. you don’t understand how someone can love you in their slumber. in their instincts. in their dreams. did your name write itself into his memory like it did in yours? “yes”. he’d tell you the next morning. “you are all i dreamt about.”

—

spring. the air is warm and light, and there are blooming lilies on top of your bed-drawer. but you can’t smell them. it is cruel for the breeze to be this soft and for you to be this hurt.

fights with hyunjin are very rare, so rare that when they happen it feels excruciating, like a punch to your gut, like a knife slipping right beneath your heart— not killing you. worse.

it wasn’t even a fight. just pent-up frustration from you guys’ respective jobs. still, there is a raft between your bodies. a wide space that stretches and stretches and stretches. you think it’d be easier to cross an ocean than to reach out for him.

but then, his cold feet touch yours. and your heart jumps in your chest, twirls and falls and soars once more.

hyunjin swallows, his throat dry, his tongue tied. you shift. and then, as if something snaps, you hug him. he doesn’t realize a broken sob has escaped his lips, soaking your neck with his tears. “i’m sorry angel,” he whispers, and you nod, over and over. “i’m sorry too baby,” you say, pulling him closer.

what a waste it would have been to sleep apart. to deprive your souls of the rest that is him. he’ll be here tomorrow too. you’ll wake up in his arms and you’ll be okay.

—

summer. the windows are wide open, the salt of the ocean seems to settle upon hyunjin’s skin. he smells like the waves and your sunscreen.

it is too hot. too humid. the breeze playing with your airbnb’s curtains does nothing to ease the scorching heat. but hyunjin insists on sleeping near you. so do you. it’s because you understand his need that you’ve been dating for five years now. that a huge diamond rests on your ring finger.

his arm drapes over your waist lazily, his skin is sticking to yours but you don’t mind. you’ve gone beyond minding these mortal nuisances with hyunjin. not when you feel like your souls are kneaded from one dough.

it’s a midday nap. a tradition in all your travels. your fingers touch one another gently. “sleepy?” he hums and you nod, pressing your lips to his collarbones.

“you feel nice,” he murmurs, his voice drowsy, “you feel like summer. you feel like myself. does that make sense?”

his nails graze your bare back, lazy, affectionate.

“it does,” you reassure. “to know me would be to know you.”

your words are the last thing he hears before dozing off. there is a safety in that, in knowing you’ll be there too when he wakes up. as you always are. he’ll tell you he loves you then. though you already know it. don’t you?

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #skz scenarios #hyunjin imagines

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moonstruckme · 10 months ago

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Hi! I dont know if you write smut, but if you do, I was wondering if you could do a bestfriend!james and reader going further above the just touching? Like, they're cuddling and then suddenly grinding, leading to some you knooow!! Hehe, thank you!

I do ! This one is fairly tame though, sorry, it just felt more right for them in the moment. Thanks for requesting babe <3

cw: pg-13 smut

bestfriend!James x fem!reader ♡ 658 words

James is hardly the poster boy for cleanliness, but even he won’t stoop to getting in bed with jeans on. Which is how the two of you always end up like this, curled up under his covers and pantless for a midafternoon nap.

The first time you did this, you were hardly able to sleep, but now it feels fairly normal. It helps that you’ve got the world’s least sexy underwear on, full-coverage and worn, a pinkish beige color that you suppose was probably supposed to be someone’s skin tone but you’d only bought as part of a multipack. And James has the comfiest bed in the world, a weighted comforter and the sort of heavenly mattress only generational wealth can procure. His arm is strewn loosely over your side, his front pressed to your back, and his breath is a steady rhythm on the nape of your neck. You’ve never felt so blissfully warm and heavy.

You know without knowing how that James is starting to wake up just like you are, slow and lazy. You stretch out a leg, feeling the muscles tense all the way up your back, and he splays his hand on your abdomen as though to keep you in place. Makes a soft, sleepy sound.

Later, you’ll say that you don’t even remember deciding to do it. Maybe you’re too tired to think straight, maybe you’re still halfway in a dream, but you nudge your hips back into James. A subtle movement. Incidental.

Only, James nudges back. And he tilts his head so his mouth moves closer to your shoulder, mumbling something incoherent into your skin.

It feels good. You keep going. After a while, his hand has migrated up to cup your tit, not hard, not squeezing, just a lazy perusal of unexplored skin. There’s not much of your skin James doesn’t know, but this is some of it.

There’s a nice, sluggish warmth seeping into your core, sweet as a river of honey. Your breaths are still as relaxed as when you’d been sleeping. Syncing now.

“James,” you whisper, his name hardly more than breath.

“Yeah.” His hand trails back down to your hip, helping you turn over. “C’mere.”

Your mouth practically falls onto his. There’s no parting of lips, no tentative pecks. Your mouths find each other warm and open. James tastes like basil, the pasta you’d had for lunch, but somehow also like himself, like even his saliva is a little bit sweeter than everyone else’s.

You end up on top of him through a team effort, your leg hooked over his and his hands helping you the rest of the way. He holds your hips gently, guiding you back and forth over him.

It’s slow and easy, like leaves swaying in the breeze or the tide coming in. So natural you wonder if this is actually the first time it’s happened. Maybe you and James have been doing this, somewhere just outside the reaches of your consciousness, forever.

“Jamie,” you say in between kisses. Your voice hardly sounds like yours, breathy and still stretched with sleep. “What’re we doing?”

“Dunno.” James’ voice sounds just as lax. It’s oddly comforting. “Don’t stop, yeah?”

You weren’t planning on it. You let your head fall beside his on his pillow, face nestled in the downy softness of his curls while you kiss at the skin behind his ear.

James makes a murmured sound of encouragement. His thumb begins to make smooth, indolent circles over the fabric of your underwear.

“I fucking love these ones,” he sighs.

You guess they’re not so unsexy after all. Once you decide you’re done with his neck, he takes a turn, slipping your sleeve off your shoulder to give you a pretty mark just to the left of your collarbone. Your bodies are warm everywhere they touch, that heat in your core a steady comfort.

You don’t talk any more. You fall back asleep with your nose smushing into his cheek.

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glamourscat · 4 months ago

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୨ৎ Beautiful as...? BLLK edition

BACHIRA, CHIGIRI, BAROU, KAISER, RIN, ISAGI, REO, NAGI, SHIDOU

Bachira: beautiful as a fair carnival

His light and contagious smile can brighten a whole room. His presence, in a way, makes you feel like a child again. Running around and seeing the world through “naive” eyes. Staring off in space taken aback by the bright, colourful lights. High on way too much sugar. Seeing the beauty in life, aware that there are dangers and challenges out there, but for now, not knowing them is better than anything.

Chigiri: beautiful as spring

When the leaves come back, filled with life and green. Bright, vibrant flowers dot the grass. He is a splash of color that persists even on the darkest days, a lingering reminder that “everything will be okay.” The sun will shine again tomorrow.

Reo: beautiful as the ocean

The calm waves, the sea breeze and that distinctive seaside smell. The sand between your toes, the warm embrace of the sun and the cool water wrapping you in a blanket of shivers and warmth at the same time.

Shidou: beautiful as a museum

Different artists, different paintings, different forms of art. A carefully threaded puzzle filled with emotions, explosions of thoughts, liberty, and need. The need to scream, to ensure someone hears it. The need for a revolution. The hope that someone will remember you.

Kaiser: beautiful as a thunderstorm at night

Not everyone likes it, but many still enjoy it. The clouds fill the dark sky, illuminated by occasional flashes of lightning. It can give you chills just as it can give you comfort.

Isagi: beautiful as the moment after it stops raining

The smell lingers in the air, following you wherever you go. The sky starts to open up, grey clouds mixing with white and the sky is turning a lighter shade of blue. The faint sun rays start to poke through, a welcome touch against your cold skin. The few drops of water still present on the leaves of the trees might, or might not, fall on your head as you walk under them.

Nagi: beautiful as heavy snow

That serene feeling of no school, no work, no worries. The streets filled with mountains of snow, cold yet inviting to jump into. At first glance, soft yet hard and firm. Playful and forgiving when it wants to.

Rin: beautiful as a summer night

Nothing is forever. Summer, just as it came, will end too. It’s the feeling of looking out of your window, smelling the scent that’s unique to summer. Hearing the night insects’ serenade in the distance as you look at the stars with nothing particular on your mind. There’s a nostalgia hitting you, you’re not sure why. Your chest feels a bit heavier and emptier at the same time. You find yourself closing your eyes to soak in this feeling.

Barou: beautiful as fire

Destructive in some cases, yet warm and comforting in others. Wild and untamable. You think you have the upper hand but one piece of wood too much and everything is ablaze. Only the most skilled know how to control it. Not tame it, but understand it. Being able to turn the wild, bursting flame into something softer, something that feels like home.

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claramelooo · 5 months ago

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Another day pampering you, my babies.

Enjoy it <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat fem reader

Warning: +18, humiliation and corruption.

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 4 - The Spider

Summary: You find out what happens when you test Wanda's limits.

Velvet Chains

On Your Knees

The clock on your bedroom wall read 4 a.m., and you stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. The exhaustion of the day should have knocked you out, but instead, your mind insisted on replaying the moment you encountered Wanda in your living room. Her smile—so controlled, so dangerously kind—seemed etched into your memory.

She was unlike anyone you'd ever met.

You closed your eyes, trying to push away the warmth that crept up your body at the memory of how Wanda looked at you, hungry, as if she could see more than you were willing to reveal. But in doing so, another face surfaced in your mind.

Kate.

It was two years ago, during one of those suffocating summers. She was a temporary roommate, placed there because her dorm was being renovated. Her name was Kate, and you could never quite decide if you liked her or not. Kate was full of life, bold, with a mischievous smile that seemed to know all your secrets.

She teased you for weeks, mocking your shyness, challenging your seriousness. "You're so uptight," she would say, laughing, but there was something in her tone that felt... like an invitation.

When she finally leaned in and kissed you, it was soft and hesitant. You didn’t know what you were doing, but you followed an instinct you didn’t know you had, and for a few seconds, the world disappeared.

In that moment, as her lips brushed against yours, you felt something you had never felt before. It wasn’t just the natural nervousness of someone else’s touch; it was a heat, an electricity, something that spread through your veins like fire.

For a few seconds, the entire universe shrank to fit into that instant: the stars above, the warm summer breeze, the scent of mint on Kate’s breath, which seemed to mock you even as she kissed you.

But when she pulled away, laughing and wiping her lips like it was nothing, like it was disposable, something inside you broke. Not a small, harmless crack, but a deep rupture that left an echo.

You tried not to think about it in the weeks that followed. Tried to ignore how her touch lingered on your skin, how the sound of her laughter made you shiver even when she wasn’t around. You told yourself it was just a kiss, just a moment. But the words were hollow, devoid of the comfort you wanted to find.

The problem wasn’t Kate, not really. The problem was that kiss had pulled something out of you, something you had tried to hide at all costs. It was the silent acknowledgment that this was who you were, who you had always been, even if you had never dared to admit it.

And Kate knew. She knew and toyed with it because, to her, it was a game, a light joke to pass the time. But to you, it was everything.

You still remembered how she laughed the next day, saying how "maybe kissing girls wasn’t so different from kissing guys." You pretended to agree, forcing a smile that hid the turmoil inside you.

Now, years later, the memory still stung, but in a different way. It wasn’t just the pain of the moment anymore but the realization of how much it had shaped who you were now. Kate’s kiss showed you who you were but also reminded you of everything you couldn’t have.

Comparing Kate to Wanda now felt almost insulting. Kate was reckless and indifferent. Wanda, on the other hand, was... calculated. Where Kate wore charm like a mask, Wanda wielded it like a weapon.

But there was something else about Wanda that intrigued you: she made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way no one else ever had. When she spoke, her words carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. She wasn’t the type to settle for less than what she wanted, and you knew that.

And that scared you.

The way Wanda looked at you, as if she were peeling back every layer of you with a single glance, was suffocating and electrifying. She was everything Kate never was: intense, determined, almost impossible to resist.

With Kate, you could pretend. Pretend the kiss meant nothing, that her laughter didn’t affect you, that your obsession was just a phase. Kate never realized the impact she had on you—or maybe she did, but it didn’t matter anymore.

With Wanda, it was a different story. There was no room for pretense with her. It was as if she saw through every lie, every attempt to hide what you felt, and that made you feel vulnerable in a way you never had before.

You couldn’t help but compare them, even though you hated to admit it. Kate played with you, treating your shyness like a harmless joke, but Wanda made a point of confronting you. Every word she said seemed carefully chosen to provoke you, to force you to react.

And you reacted.

It was inevitable. Her words stuck in your mind, echoing long after the conversation ended. It was as if she held a key to unlock doors inside you that you didn’t even know were locked.

With your thoughts racing, your alarm went off, making you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Facing your reflection in the mirror, you started thinking about what to wear. Skinny jeans? An oversized sweater? A skirt? Your right thumbnail was already sore from biting it while you thought.

As you styled your hair, you realized something: Wanda didn’t just make you feel seen; she made you want to be seen, combing through your strands in different ways, wondering which one would catch her attention.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what scared you the most. That you could want this. That Wanda could be the person to whom you finally surrendered completely.

You walked downstairs while trying to button the last button on your shirt, finding your dad sipping coffee from a mug that read “World’s Best Dad.”

"Who gave him that?" you thought, hiding a scornful smile. Clearly, they didn’t know your family dynamic.

Your dad noticed you and waved. “Good morning, dear. Your mother told me about your new job. I’m really glad you’re trying to be... normal,” he said, almost like a confession.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words, even if he probably didn’t mean to be so cruel—or maybe he did. "Normal." That was the word your parents used for everything they expected from you but that never seemed to quite apply.

“Good morning, Dad,” you replied, trying to keep your voice neutral as you sat at the table.

“Normalcy is important, you know,” he continued, ignoring your attempt to end the conversation. “After everything... well, I think it’s good for you to have something to keep you busy. To distract your mind from... misguided thoughts.”

Your face flushed. The memory of Kate, the kiss, the words she whispered afterward, came rushing back, but you buried them quickly. This wasn’t the time. It wasn’t safe.

“It’s just a temporary job,” you said, focusing on the mug in front of you. “At the library.”

Your father frowned. “The library? Really?” He seemed confused, as if he couldn’t understand why anyone would work in such a... unexciting place.

“Yes,” you replied firmly. “It’s quiet and helps me focus on my studies.”

He pondered for a moment before shrugging. “Yale is still the goal, right? Don’t get lost in distractions.”

You nodded, but inside, the comment hit like a punch. Distractions. If he knew what was running through your mind—the thoughts you had when you were near Wanda—he would probably unravel.

Your mother entered the kitchen at that moment, holding a plate of toast, interrupting the conversation. “Darling, I hope you’re taking this seriously. Wanda is a very respectable woman. Don’t disappoint us.”

You swallowed hard at the weight of her expectations.

“Yes, Mom,” you said, keeping your expression neutral. “I’ll do my best.”

Your mother smiled approvingly, but there was something in her eyes, something critical, that made you want to shrink. “Good. We don’t want any more problems, do we? We’ve had enough for a lifetime.”

You knew exactly what she meant. They never spoke directly about what happened at the boarding school, but the silence was heavier than any words could be. To them, it was a stain, a flaw that needed to be corrected.

“I’ll try my best,” you replied, your voice low but firm.

When you finally left the house, the weight of the conversation still hung over you. But there was something else. Something at the back of your mind pushing you forward.

No matter what your parents thought or what they expected of you, there was a part of you that wanted more.

[...]

The library was empty when you entered, your footsteps echoing across the polished wooden floor. There was something almost comforting about the silence of the place, but that feeling vanished the moment you saw Wanda behind the counter, her gaze landing on you with surgical precision.

“Ah, my favorite student has arrived,” she said, her voice dripping with an artificial sweetness that sent chills down your spine.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I didn’t know there was a ranking,” you replied, stepping closer with a challenging smile.

“Of course there is,” she replied, leaning slightly over the counter. Her posture was almost casual, but her stare was unyielding. “And you’re at the top... for now.”

“I’m flattered, coming from the saintly Wanda Maximoff,” you said, giving an exaggerated bow, your tone dripping with mockery. You refused to back down—not this time.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her expression intrigued by your response. “I see you’re feeling braver today.”

“I didn’t realize courage was part of the curriculum for working here,” you retorted, moving closer and dropping your notebooks onto the desk with a soft thud.

She smiled, but there was something dangerous behind it, as though she was testing how far you would go. “It’s not, but considering your tone... perhaps it should be. And maybe you need a reminder of your place, Dekta.” Wanda’s gaze sharpened, her words a deliberate challenge.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms. “Oh. My place? I thought it was here in the library, working and studying. Or is there somewhere else you think I belong?”

You smiled inwardly, watching her jaw tighten—relishing the satisfaction of knowing you had rattled her, even if just a little.

Wanda stepped around the counter, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. “Perhaps I need to spell it out for you. It seems you haven’t yet grasped how things work here.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me,” you replied, your voice laced with theatrical sarcasm, feeling heat rise up your neck.

She stopped directly in front of you, close enough that you could feel her breath—something faintly minty and cool. “I am the authority here. You’re under my supervision. That means you follow my rules.”

“Rules?” You raised an eyebrow, defiant. “Funny, because so far, all I’ve seen you do is try to intimidate me. Is that one of your ‘rules,’ Ms. Maximoff?”

Wanda’s smile faltered for a brief moment, and in her eyes, you caught a glimpse of something raw. Anger? Frustration? Something else?

She stepped even closer, her body almost brushing against yours. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Inside, you were panicking, but you held her intense gaze. “I don’t think, Wanda. I know.”

Her breath hitched for just a second before the shadow of a smile tugged at her lips.

“Do you have any idea how insufferable you’re being?” she asked, her voice low, her eyes strangely soft considering the tension in the air. “Because honestly, Dekta, I’m seriously considering putting an end to this right now.”

A chill ran down your spine, your hands trembling as you gripped the edge of the table in front of you. “End...?”

Wanda crossed her arms, her posture rigid. “The mentorship, the job. Everything. If you don’t know how to respect the person helping you, then maybe I shouldn’t waste my time.”

Suddenly, you felt the weight of your parents’ disapproving stares, heard the cruel words from your boarding school teachers, the bitter voice of Kate saying, “I hate you.”

“No!” The word burst out before you could stop it, your heart pounding so loudly it seemed to echo through the library. You tried to steady your voice, soften it. “Please, Wanda... Don’t do this.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing at you. “Why not? You seem to enjoy testing my limits, so maybe it’s time I put you in your place.”

Panic tightened your chest, and the conversation with your parents earlier replayed in your mind—the crushing weight of their expectations. Losing this wasn’t an option. “I need this job. Please, Wanda, I... I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful.”

She took a step closer, her face dangerously near yours. “If you really need it, Dekta, then prove it. Show me you understand what respect means.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning as tears escaped before you could stop them. “How?”

Her lips curled into a cold, almost cruel smile. “On your knees.”

Your breath caught, your eyes wide. “What?”

“I’m sure you heard me perfectly well, Dekta,” she said, her voice unyielding. “If you want this mentorship and this job so badly, then get on your knees. Show me you know your place.”

The floor seemed to give way beneath you, the shock and humiliation burning your face. Every instinct screamed at you to walk away, but the weight of your circumstances was crushing. Your family, your plans—everything depended on this.

“Wanda, this is...”

“This is what?” she cut you off, her tone sharp. “Unfair? Inappropriate? I don’t care. Decide now, Dekta. Either you accept my conditions, or you walk out that door and explain to your parents why you always fail.”

Your throat tightened, and with trembling hands, you slowly sank down, feeling every fragment of your dignity slip away as your knees touched the cold library floor.

“Please,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Wanda tilted her head, her gaze scrutinizing you as if judging every fiber of your being. “Louder.”

“Please, Wanda, don’t take this away from me,” you repeated, your voice breaking as tears streamed down your face like a child’s.

She remained silent for a moment, her predatory stare never wavering. Then, finally, she stepped forward. “Clean my boots.”

With tears blurring your vision, you crawled toward her feet, feeling your pride shatter into pieces. Reaching her boots, you pulled a blue handkerchief from your pocket and wiped the perfectly clean leather.

“With your tongue,” Wanda commanded, her tone cold and unyielding.

You looked up at her, shock evident in your gaze, and there it was—that damn smirk playing on her lips.

Wanda watched you kneeling before her, and though her expression remained calm and composed, like a mask of serenity, the turmoil beneath was undeniable. There was something deeply intoxicating about the sight of your submission—something she couldn’t, or perhaps didn’t want to, control.

Every movement you made, every tear that fell, stirred something primal within her—a blend of power and desire that burned in a dark corner of her mind. It was more than she had imagined. The reality was infinitely more potent. You weren’t just a conquest; you were a masterpiece she was sculpting with words and gestures, shaping you to fit into the world she controlled.

And it excited her. Not just carnally but through the absolute power she felt, the control she had over every breath, every decision you made in that moment.

“Go on, pet. I don’t like repeating myself,” she said, her voice rougher now, which only made your mouth water.

As your tongue met the smooth leather, you swore you saw Wanda’s knees buckle ever so slightly.

“That’s a start. Now, get up and get back to work.”

You rose quickly, wanting nothing more than to escape her sight. Every movement was loaded with shame and resentment. As you returned to your desk, you could feel her eyes on you, and as much as you hated to admit it, a part of you knew she was savoring every moment of it.

The mid-shift was almost over, and Wanda remained where she was, her eyes fixed on you as you organized some books in the children’s section. She should feel guilty—she knew that. A part of her, buried under layers of rationalizations and desire, whispered that this was wrong. But she ignored that voice with frightening ease.

Everything about you was an intoxicating distraction for Wanda. The way you avoided eye contact, the small hesitations in your movements, even the nervous tremor in your voice—every detail was a reminder of the control she held over you, even if you hadn’t yet admitted it to yourself.

As you sat back down, trying to focus on your studies, Wanda moved silently to a nearby shelf, pretending to reorganize some books. But her eyes never left you. The way your fingers tapped on the table, the furrow of your brows as you concentrated—it was all incredibly captivating.

She couldn’t stop. It always started innocently enough: a stray thought here, a fleeting memory there. But inevitably, her mind returned to you. How would your face look if she touched you differently? If she pushed you further out of your comfort zone, how far would you go to please her?

This obsession was new, an intensity she had never experienced before—not even with Vision. He had never made her heart race like this, never ignited this voracious hunger for power and domination. With you, everything felt different—darker, more visceral, more... real.

Wanda knew she was crossing boundaries—not just yours, but her own. Yet there was something irresistible about the idea of shaping you, testing you, possessing you in ways no one else could. It was wrong, of course. And yet, she wondered: if this was wrong, why did it feel so perfectly natural?

When you tilted your head, biting your lip in concentration, Wanda gripped the book in her hands more tightly than necessary. The thought of making you bite that same lip because of her made her take a deep breath, trying to regain control.

But control was something Wanda wielded well—and you, unknowingly, were already caught in her web.

She rose from her chair, her palms damp and her eyes glued to your figure.

Wanda walked toward you with slow, deliberate steps, the wooden floor creaking softly under the heels of her boots. Her fingers brushed absentmindedly against the spines of books, but her gaze never wavered from you. There was something different in her eyes now—not just desire or authority but a veiled tenderness, a touch of something maternal that made your skin prickle.

She stopped beside you, leaning in just enough for her scent to envelop you. Your body tensed at her proximity, but you didn’t dare look up.

“You’re so focused,” Wanda murmured, her voice low and soft, almost comforting but laden with something deeper. “That’s good. But you’re gripping that pencil so tightly… You’ll end up breaking it.”

Your hands trembled as you realized she was right. You immediately loosened your grip, almost as if her words had a direct hold over you.

“There’s no need to push yourself so hard, you know?” she continued, her voice now a whisper that tickled your neck. “I’m here to take care of you. To guide you.”

“Wanda, what—” You tried to turn, but gasped as you felt her lips brush against your ear.

“You’re so young…” Her desperate whisper sounded almost like a moan, making you exhale sharply. “So innocent,” she murmured, almost to herself, as her fingers lightly traced a path along your cheek. “You need someone to show you the world, to teach you what really matters.”

You finally lifted your eyes to hers, confusion and vulnerability clear in your expression. Wanda smiled, but it wasn’t the smile you expected. It was softer, almost indulgent, like a mother looking at a child who had just made a silly mistake.

“I know what you need,” she said, leaning even closer, her lips almost brushing your ear. “And I can give it to you, but you have to trust me.”

There was something in her tone—a blend of sweetness and command—that left you speechless. Your hands gripped the sides of your folder, trying to anchor yourself to a reality that felt like it was slipping away.

“Do you trust me, Y/n?” Wanda said, her breath brushing against your lips, making you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. Your noses touched, and your eyes locked in some kind of trance.

The silence of the library amplified every stimulus, making Wanda’s presence all-encompassing. “Yes,” you whispered.

Wanda slowly pulled back, a faint smile playing on her lips, leaving her presence to dissipate like a receding wave. But her warmth, her touch, her words lingered.

“Now, get back to your studies,” she ordered gently, though her gaze made it clear this was no request. “And remember, my girl… I’m always watching you.”

~*~

She is not innocent

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg

#mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #mommy k!nk #mommy k1nk #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #lgbtq community #lgbtqia #lgbtq #wlw smut #wlw #bd/sm kink #bd/sm brat

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forlix · 2 years ago

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· . ˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

— the moments in which the members of stray kids realize how they truly feel about you.

words・1.4k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / warnings・depictions of conflict and anxiety in hyunjin's and han's / genres・domestic fluff, smidges of hurt/comfort, established relationships

a/n・thought i'd try out a new fic format :-) i had so much fun writing these and hope you like reading them just as much. any and all feedback is appreciated, as always!

chan is in a heated staring contest with his notepad when the door opens, and he knows that it’s you who comes in, but his head is miles away, tangled in an amalgamation of syllables and rhythms. he goes on to forget that you’re here for a short while, poring over the unfinished lyrics in front of him with undivided focus. that is, until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

you’ve just pulled a chair up next to his desk. “lemme see,” you say, gesturing to the notepad. there’s a surprised pause, and then chan places it in your hand, scoots closer to you.

you spend the next two hours talking him through his block, but there are periods when you fall silent to brainstorm or to write something down, and chan takes those quiet opportunities just to look at you: wearing one of his old t-shirts, your hair still damp from your shower, completely concentrated. and he knows, then, that he wants to marry you.

minho doesn’t realize he loves you in a singular moment. rather, he has a faint inkling for some time, and then the rug is randomly pulled from beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he can’t remember a version of his world that didn't have you at its center.

there are times when he’s especially aware of his feelings, though. like when he throws a witty remark in your direction and your retort comes back twice as sharp. when your eyes and smile light up like lanterns as you talk to him about your passions. when one (or all) of his cats hover at your side as you go about your day. when he returns home after a grueling practice and you’re there to offer him your comfort, no matter his withdrawn demeanor or sweaty skin.

he is a quiet lover, and sometimes he worries that he’s too quiet, that you have no idea what’s going on inside him every time he looks at you. but words have never really been necessary with minho. you know. you just do.

changbin is greeted by a chilly breeze when he emerges from the gym, and he silently chastizes himself for forgetting to bring an outer layer yet again. but the temperature moves to the back of his mind when he spots you, waiting on the sidewalk, as you said you would. a familiar grin breaks across your face when you see him, and he feels its shape against his lips when he runs over and kisses you, in lieu of hello.

“what are you feeling for dinner?” you ask once he’s pulled away, and he realizes that you’ve pressed something to his chest: one of the hoodies that he keeps at your place, still soft and warm from just coming out of the dryer. and boom—the epiphany hits him, instantly and unequivocally.

he is dumbfounded for a moment, just processing the newfound discovery; and then, out of nowhere, the two of you say the name of the same restaurant at the same time. he swears he never believed in soulmates until he met you.

hyunjin has always held so many emotions in his heart so fervently, to the point that they sometimes overflow in the form of words that he doesn’t believe, in a tone that he doesn’t intend. and it happened again today, when he spoke to you the wrong way in a moment of pure impulse, and the surprise on your face morphed into poorly-disguised hurt.

a few hours later, the weight of his actions sits heavily on his shoulders. when he lifts his phone to call you, his hands are shaking a little, and a breathy apology spills from his lips the moment he hears you on the other end: “i’m sorry, angel. i’m trying, i promise. i really am.” to which you answer, “i know, hyune. i forgive you. we’ll keep trying together, okay?” and your words pull his heartstrings in a new direction entirely.

he asks if he can come over, you say yes, and he tells you he loves you as soon as you open the door. he’s done hiding his heart from you.

jisung’s contagious grin and raucous cackle come easily to him for the most part, but there are times when he forgets how it feels to laugh or to breathe, times when he wants only to hide from the world and all of its scariest parts. and when you see his figure in the doorway tonight, his face cast in a nameless shadow, his shoulders sunken in quiet defeat, you understand immediately that this is one of those times.

“do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as he approaches you. silently, he shakes his head: not tonight. but his body language asks for what he cannot verbalize. you extend your arms toward him, and he buries himself in them the second he’s close enough to, his face nestling the crook of your neck, the tension in his limbs melting at your gentle touch. you stay there for a long time, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, coaxing him back to the ground, back to you.

wherever he chooses to hide, he thinks he’d like to take you with him.

when felix opens his eyes, the space in the bed next to him is empty, and the faint scent of flour and sugar wafts through the gap beneath his door.

he gets to his feet, throws on some clothes, and wanders in the direction of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—and the sight that awaits him makes him wonder if he’s still dreaming. you’re standing at the stove, still in your pajamas, hair slightly disheveled from your rest, and there are pancakes in the frying pan before you; sliced strawberries on the cutting board next to the stove. and the look of sheer focus on your face, as if staring at the pancakes will cook them faster, absolutely destroys him. (and he knows in that moment that he wants to wake up to you for the rest of his life.)

with an enamored smile, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulls your back to his chest, and presses a light kiss to the nape of your neck. “morning, beautiful,” he mumbles sweetly. “how fucking lucky am i?”

being around you makes seungmin feel like a kid with a crush. he smiles brighter and laughs louder. he opens like a lotus in bloom when you say his name. the floaty sensation he gets when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand persists for hours afterward—and none of it makes any fucking sense to him. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in love, but he’s never believed that love could feel like this, straight out of a sonnet.

now, your head is on his shoulder, your body rising and falling in your slumber. seungmin looks at your interlocked hands where they rest on his knee, and at the current track displayed on his lockscreen: “still” by day6, a song about losing and loving, about regret and reminiscence. those bright days between us are over, the lyrics go, and he makes a silent promise to your sleeping form that the bright days between the two of you will never end.

the word "love" still doesn't cross his mind, but it is etched all over his face, and carved into his soul.

you and jeongin are telling each other about your days over dinner when your phone lights up with an incoming call, and he nearly spits out his mouthful when he sees who it’s from. for a few seconds, the two of you just stare at each other in flabbergasted silence. but then, you raise your phone to your ear: “hi, grandma! to what do i owe this pleasure?”

and the voice of his grandmother comes back through the receiver. she tells you that she’s just gone on an evening walk and found herself thinking of you, so she wanted to see how you’re doing; if you’re taking care of yourself. you rush to thank her, looking entirely flustered, and a bit like you’re about to burst into tears.

with that, the two of you launch into chatter about everything under the sun: grocery store discounts, the recent humidity, jeongin’s bad habits, you name it. and it finally dawns on jeongin how inextricably embedded in his life you have become—and that he doesn’t want it any other way.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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jinjooha69 · 7 days ago

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TOJI X READER !!!

Pairing - Toji fushiguro x reader (Dad's friend! AU)

Under His Roof

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Content Warnings (Please Read): Age gap, Power imbalance, Manipulation, Degrading talk, Possessiveness/Obsession, Breeding kink, Spanking/Discipline, Angst & emotional manipulation, Soft/dom moments later on, Minors DO NOT INTERACT (18+ ONLY)

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Chapter 1

The rain hadn’t stopped since late afternoon—gentle at first, then louder, heavier, drumming steady on the roof. The sky outside had gone all dull and bluish-grey, like someone turned the world’s brightness down. You sat curled on the living room sofa, legs tucked under you, your sundress brushing against your knees. The smell of rain mixed with the faint aroma of roasted chicken from the kitchen. Warm. Familiar.

Your dad had been in a good mood all day. He kept checking the clock, humming tunelessly under his breath. Something about an old friend coming over. "Haven’t seen him in years," he’d said. You barely remembered the name—Toji. He used to come around when you were little. You had this vague memory of a man who brought you candy once. Big hands. A low voice. That was about it.

The doorbell rang.

Your dad perked up, grinning like a kid. “That’s him!”

You stayed where you were, half-watching some rerun on TV, half-daydreaming, listening to the door swing open.

“Toji, you bastard!” your dad’s voice boomed with laughter. “You made it through the rain.”

And then he walked in.

You glanced up casually—and froze for a moment.

He wasn’t how you remembered at all. The man in the doorway looked like he belonged on a billboard for a gym or something. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, rain still dripping off his hair. Grey sweats hung low on his hips. His smile was lazy, but not arrogant. He had a calmness to him—solid, grounded.

You didn’t stare long. Just a blink, maybe two. Then you looked away, back at the TV, pretending you didn’t notice anything weird. You didn’t know why your throat felt tight.

“This is her?” he asked your dad. His voice hadn’t changed. Deep. Low. Rough around the edges.

“Yep. She was only ten the last time you saw her.”

“Damn. She’s all grown up now.” His tone was casual. Not weird. Just… surprised.

You smiled awkwardly when he said hi, gave a little wave. You didn’t know what to say. He seemed nice. Polite. Probably just being friendly. Maybe he was staring a little, but maybe not. You were probably imagining it.

---

Later, at dinner

He sat across from you at the table. Not next to you, not too close. Just across. Your dad was doing most of the talking anyway, filling the room with stories and laughter.

Toji listened. Quiet. Smiling sometimes. He only asked you a few questions—how was college, what did you like to study. You answered, soft and brief, eyes mostly on your plate.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes drifted to the curve of your throat when you swallowed.

You didn’t catch the way his fingers lingered near yours when he passed the salt.

You didn’t hear how his voice dipped just a little lower when he spoke to you, quieter than how he spoke to your dad.

Because in your mind, he was just… Toji. Your dad’s friend. A nice man who used to bring you candy. Well He was Handsome. Tall. Muscular. Attractive. Maybe a little intense, but he hadn’t said anything weird.

So you didn’t think much of it when he said, “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

You just blinked and smiled, bashfully. “Um… thanks?”

Your dad was already halfway through his third beer, slurring slightly. Toji glanced at him once, then back at you, and just smiled again.

You thought it was just a nice night.

You had no idea.

---

It was one of those slow Saturdays. The kind that feels stuck in syrup—cloudy skies, lazy breeze coming in through half-open windows, and your dad snoring on the recliner like he was being paid for it. Toji had been around since afternoon, lounging around the house like he belonged there, like he'd never left in the first place.

Your dad had pulled out his usual stash—whiskey he “only drinks with close ones,” which you knew just meant anyone willing to stay and listen to him ramble. Toji played along like always—quiet, attentive, letting your dad do most of the talking, just adding in a word or two when he had to. The two of them had been laughing and pouring drinks for hours.

Now your dad was passed out on the couch, one arm hanging off the side, the glass still half full on the coffee table. You stood in the kitchen, rinsing out your own cup, keeping your head low. You weren’t really in the mood to talk.

But Toji didn’t leave.

He sat at the dining table, one elbow resting lazily against it, nursing his drink. You felt him watching you—again. Not intensely. Not weird. Just... steady.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

You didn’t answer right away. The faucet ran too loud. You turned it off slowly, drying your hands on a towel, then leaned your hip against the counter.

“Yeah. Just… tired.”

He hummed, like he didn’t believe it but wasn’t going to push too hard. The kind of sound people make when they’ve been around enough messes to recognize one when they see it.

“You don’t talk much,” he said after a pause, lifting the glass to his lips. “You used to talk a lot when you were little.”

You looked at him then. He wasn’t teasing. Just observing. Like he actually remembered.

“I guess I had less to say back then,” you murmured.

Toji raised an eyebrow, just slightly. “Or more people who listened.”

That one hit a little too close, and for some reason, it loosened something in your chest.

You sighed, walking over slowly and pulling out the chair opposite him. You didn’t sit like you normally would—not with that bounce or energy. You just lowered yourself quietly, fingers curled in your lap, shoulders drawn a little tight.

He poured you a drink without asking. Just a little bit. Just enough to warm your throat. You didn’t normally drink, but tonight your chest felt too full. You accepted it wordlessly.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” he said after a few minutes.

You didn’t look at him. You just nodded, swallowing down the sting behind your eyes again.

“Boy trouble?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh, short and bitter. “That obvious?”

“To someone who’s been through enough of it, yeah.”

There was no pressure in his voice. No smugness. No curiosity for the drama. Just… space. A gentle offer to unload if you needed it. And you did.

So you talked.

Not all at once. Not dramatic. Just the bare bones of it—how he’d cheated. How you found out. How he didn’t even bother denying it, like he’d been waiting to be caught. How it made you feel stupid. Replaceable. Like something that could be tossed and picked back up if he ever got bored.

Toji didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his eyes on you, his drink untouched. That stillness in him made you feel safe somehow. Like he wasn't there to fix anything—just to witness it.

“That’s messed up,” he said quietly when you stopped talking.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

You looked up at him then. He wasn’t looking away. He was serious. And warm. And weirdly kind, in that quiet, heavy way men like him sometimes are when they aren’t performing for anyone. His voice was lower now, softer, like he didn’t want to scare you off.

“You’re too soft for people like that,” he added, eyes dragging across your face slowly. “Too trusting.”

You looked down at your glass, cheeks heating for no reason you could name. “Maybe I’m just dumb.”

“No,” he said, not even hesitating. “You’re just young. You’ll figure it out.”

The words shouldn’t have hit as hard as they did, but they did. You swallowed around the lump in your throat.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered. “I just… keep thinking if I was prettier, or sexier, or—”

“Don’t do that,” he cut in, voice low and firm. “It’s not you. It’s him.”

You looked at him again. His expression hadn’t changed. But there was something different in his eyes now. Something deeper. Something you didn’t understand.

“You’re more than enough,” he said. “More than you even realize.”

Silence sat thick between you for a moment. Not awkward. Just... charged. You didn’t know why your chest felt like it was tightening. Why his words made your throat close up.

Maybe it was the way he said it—like he wasn’t just talking about your ex. Like he was seeing something in you that you hadn’t even noticed yourself.

You blinked hard, looking away. “Thanks.”

He stood slowly, pushing his chair back with a low scrape. You thought he might walk away. But instead, he moved to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, then walked over to you and gently set it in front of you.

“Drink this,” he said, voice back to that calm, grounding tone. “And go get some rest.”

You nodded, fingers curling around the cool glass.

As he turned to walk out of the room, he paused for a beat, his back half-turned.

“You ever need to talk again,” he said, not looking at you, “don’t wait for your dad to invite me over.”

And then he left. Quiet as rain.

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yerkyokuler · 18 days ago

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“Can You Step Out?”

Jude Bellingham x Reader

Warnings: postpartum, insecurity

Genre: angst and fluff, obviously

Word Count: over 3k , sorry 🥲

Thank you so much for the like on my first post, it means the world! Let me know if you want a part 2!

⸻

The living room was filled with the low hum of a lullaby toy, something soft and twinkly that looped endlessly as Percy kicked his chubby legs in the playpen. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light across the floorboards. You’d opened the windows earlier to let in the late afternoon air, and now a gentle breeze fluttered the sheer curtains. The house smelled faintly of baby lotion and Jude’s cologne—woody, musky, warm. Safe.

He was crouched down by the playpen in his white T-shirt—simple, fitted, sleeves rolled a little to show the muscle along his arms, black trousers hugging him just right. He was laughing at something Percy had done, something so small you probably would’ve missed it—a wrinkle of the nose, a gurgle of joy—but Jude looked at him like he’d just invented the moon.

You were in the bedroom, rifling through your side of the closet, trying to find something—anything—that still felt like you.

Tonight was supposed to be nice. Your first real evening out alone since Percy was born seven and a half months ago. You had a reservation. You had a sitter. You had Jude, so excited about it he’d played music while ironing his own shirt like it was prom night.

But now, standing in your bra and jeans, you were holding a dress you used to love and staring at it like it belonged to someone else.

Your body wasn’t the same. You knew that. You’d carried life, delivered him, fed him. But the way your hips had shifted, the way your skin stretched, the way your stomach now had a softness it never used to—it made the idea of this dress suddenly unbearable.

It felt like pretending. Like you were squeezing yourself into a version of yourself Jude hadn’t signed up for.

You heard him coming down the hall, his steps familiar. You quickly clutched the dress to your chest and called out, voice more brittle than you meant it to be.

“Can you—um… can you step out? I just wanna change.”

He stopped in the doorway. Confused at first. You saw the hesitation cross his face.

“Oh—yeah, of course,” he said, voice light. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just… I’m good. Just gimme a sec.”

He lingered a moment. Then nodded, flashing you a quick smile. “Alright. Shout if you need help with the zip, yeah?”

You shut the door gently after he turned away and leaned back against it. That smile of his—it always made things worse when you were holding onto feelings you didn’t want to share. It was too kind. Too easy to believe in.

⸻

Down the hall, Jude walked back to the living room slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You’d never asked him to step out like that before. Not even once. You’d always been pretty open, even when you weren’t feeling your best. Which meant…

Something was off.

He knelt back down beside Percy, who was now gnawing on a rubber giraffe like it owed him money. “What’s up with Mummy, hmm?” he asked softly.

Percy blinked up at him with those wide brown eyes—the same ones Jude saw in the mirror every morning—and let out a happy sigh that sounded like a whistle. Jude ruffled his dark curls, but he kept glancing toward the bedroom.

He thought about the dress you were holding. The one he loved seeing you in—the way it made your eyes look even brighter. But maybe you didn’t love it anymore. Maybe it didn’t feel the same.

He sat back, resting on his hands, and looked at the wall for a while. Listening. Thinking. Trying to remember the last time you talked about how you felt—about your body, about all the changes. He’d been so wrapped up in loving Percy, in making sure you had help and rest and food and warmth… but had he stopped looking? Had he stopped seeing you?

⸻

You gave up on the dress. It was too tight around the ribs anyway. Everything felt too snug. Like your body didn’t belong to you.

You pulled on a different outfit—looser, easier. Still nice, but safer. You paused in front of the mirror and adjusted the top, your fingertips brushing your soft stomach. Your chest. The stretch marks that traced your hips now like rivers.

The words came out in a whisper before you even meant them to.

“Doesn’t feel like me anymore.”

And when you turned to grab your earrings, there was a knock at the door.

Soft.

Gentle.

“Babe?”

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

“…Can I come in?”

You hesitated. Then sighed. “Yeah. Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Jude stepped in, careful, like he knew he was walking into a place that felt delicate.

His eyes fell on you, and they softened instantly. But not out of pity. Not sadness. Just love.

“Hey,” he said.

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Hey.”

He didn’t rush to touch you, didn’t barrel in with solutions. Just stood there, watching you with a kind of patient quiet. “You don’t like it?”

You shrugged. “It’s fine. I just… I thought I did. I don’t know.”

His brow furrowed gently. “Is it the dress or… something else?”

You tried to brush it off. “It’s dumb. Doesn’t matter.”

His voice didn’t waver. “Matters to me.”

You looked away, your throat tightening. “It’s just… I don’t feel like myself. Not really. And I don’t know what you see when you look at me, but it’s not what I see anymore. And I didn’t want you to see me standing there like that—looking weird and stretched and just… not me.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Jude’s eyes didn’t leave you once. He took a step forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of you.

“Can I say something?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, blinking quickly.

He touched your arm gently. “You say you’re not you… but all I see when I look at you is exactly who you are. The woman I love. The mother of my son. The person who carried him and loved him before I even knew what he’d look like.”

He paused, reaching for your hand. “You look at yourself and see stretch marks and softness and changes. I look at you and see the person who gave me the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You made him. You made Percy. Every bit of you that changed… it changed because of love. Because of life. And that’s not something I’ll ever want to unsee.”

Your eyes burned. “You say that, but—”

“I say that because I mean it,” he interrupted gently. “And I see you. Still. Always.”

You sniffled, laughing once, watery. “You’re making it really hard to be mad at my own body right now.”

He grinned. “Good. Your body deserves better than your anger.”

You leaned into him then, and his arms wrapped around you instantly. Strong. Familiar. Warm.

He kissed your temple. “You smell like my shampoo.”

“I used it ‘cause I ran out of mine.”

He pulled back to look at you, eyes playful. “You sure you didn’t use it just so I’d spend the whole evening trying not to climb over the dinner table?”

You laughed, smacking his chest lightly. “Jude.”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “You’re my wife. I can’t be a little obsessed?”

He leaned in, nosing at your jaw. “You have to know you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Like this. Right now. Exactly as you are.”

You melted under his words, forehead resting against his. “Thank you. I needed that more than I knew.”

“You’re allowed to not love everything right away,” he murmured. “But just know—I love it. I love you. And I want you to feel like you again. Whatever that looks like. Even if it means trying on every outfit in the closet until we’re late.”

You smiled, and this time it reached your eyes. “You’re not even mad?”

He raised a brow. “You kidding? You could wear your old dressing gown from uni and I’d still be staring.”

You laughed, cheeks warm. “Now that’s a lie.”

He stepped back, eyes running down your figure with a smirk. “Nope. But this?” he added, pointing to your current outfit. “This is doing things to me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the way he looked at you—like you were something holy—it stayed with you. From the playpen, Percy let out a squeal. You both turned, and Jude’s face lit up again.

“I think he’s cheering for you,” Jude said, grabbing your hand and pulling you gently toward the door. “Or maybe for himself.

He did get your good looks, after all.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder as you walked.

“He has your eyes,” you whispered. “And your smile.”

Jude laughed. “Good. He’ll need ‘em. Especially with the way I plan on embarrassing him in front of his future dates.” You both paused at the doorway, watching Percy roll over with determination.

Jude’s arm slipped around your waist.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

You looked up at him, then down at your son, then back at yourself in the hallway mirror.

Maybe you weren’t exactly who you used to be. Maybe that was okay.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I am.”

And as Jude leaned down to kiss you again—slow, certain, grateful—you finally let yourself believe him.

#footballer imagines #football imagines #football scenarios #jude bellingham #Jude Bellingham x reader #Jude Bellingham imagines #Jude Bellingham scenarios

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holyblonded · 1 month ago

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nights like this | stargirl

pairings: vicky lopez x platonic!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader, oc x reader

summary: you and soleil reminisce about when you first met

warnings: injuries, slump

notes: it occurred to me after i wrote this that sydney would likely be on the b team too at this time but it’s whatever 😭

You sat tucked into the hammock like it was built just for the two of you, Soleil lazily sprawled over you, her fingers tracing idle shapes over the inside of your wrist while the afternoon sun filtered through the palm leaves above. The faint sound of the ocean waves in the distance mixed with the soft rustling of trees and the occasional giggle Soleil let out every time you squeezed her waist gently, just to hear her laugh. Her curls were slightly damp from your earlier swim, a few stray strands sticking to your cheek, but you didn’t bother to move them. You liked the way they tickled your skin, the way her scent lingered like suncream, saltwater, and something sweet, something very her.

You’d spent the last hour doing nothing and everything at once, pointing out cloud shapes, Soleil trying to braid a tiny lock of your hair badly while you kept swatting her hand away, her soft hums vibrating against your chest whenever you said something dumb just to make her laugh. The peace between you wasn’t heavy, it was light and warm and familiar, like it had always been there waiting.

At one point, Soleil lifted your wrist up, pressing a kiss to the tattoo inked on your forearm— the one she always traced when she thought you weren’t paying attention. Her thumb brushed over it gently as she whispered, “You’re really soft today.”

You huffed a laugh, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Don’t tell anyone.”

She shifted then, head resting fully against your shoulder, her curls spilling over your face like a curtain, her hand still resting on your chest like she was anchoring herself there.

“Do you remember when we first met?” you asked, voice low, almost lost in the breeze.

Soleil peeked up at you, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Yeah, how could I not?”

You let out a quiet laugh under your breath, feeling your heart squeeze in your chest. “You know I was having such a shit day?”

Soleil fully lifted her head this time, moving so she could look at you properly, her hands sliding down to rest at your hips, thumbs rubbing over the fabric of your shirt like she couldn’t stop touching you.

“Tell me about it,” she said, voice soft but sure, like she already knew whatever came next was important.

You sat curled up on the edge of the window seat, cheek pressed against the cool glass as your eyes followed the people outside living their normal, busy lives. The sky was clear, the city humming like always, but you couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that had settled in your chest since you’d been benched. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your hoodie, your custom Nike brand slides abandoned by the door because you hadn’t bothered to leave the apartment all day.

Behind you, there were soft footsteps, the quiet, measured kind you’d recognize anywhere. Alexia. She let out a soft sigh as she approached, leaning her shoulder against the wall beside the window, watching you quietly for a second before speaking.

“Estrella, it’s a concussion. I promise, you’ll be back before the semi-finals. The doctor said you’re already healing faster than expected.”

You didn’t look at her, just gave her a tiny, barely-there shrug. “I know.”

Alexia’s brows furrowed. She knew that ‘I know.’ It was the same tone you used when you were spiraling in your own head, the weight of the world you carried on your shoulders pressing down too hard.

“I just… I feel like I’m letting everyone down,” you finally admitted, voice so small it nearly cracked. “Everyone expects so much from me, Ale. The fans, the media, the team. I’m supposed to be this ‘Estrella’ that can’t mess up. And now I’m stuck here while they’re training, and everyone’s moving forward without me.”

Alexia’s heart broke a little at the words. She sat down next to you, reaching over to run her hand gently over the back of your head, careful of your injury.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You’re not letting anyone down. You’ve done more for this team and for this family than you even realize. It’s okay to rest. You deserve to rest.”

You nodded, but the weight didn’t really lift. You were grateful, Ale always knew how to make it better, but it still wasn’t enough to shake the restless, guilty ache sitting in your chest.

Alexia studied your expression for another second, then sighed quietly and stood up, grabbing her phone.

“I have errands to run. But you’re not rotting in here today.”

You looked at her with a confused frown, but before you could ask what she meant, she was already texting someone.

“Vicky’s coming. And she’s bringing backup.”

You groaned dramatically, throwing your head back against the window. “No, Mami, please—”

But she was already grabbing her keys, a smug smirk on her face.

“You’ll thank me later.”

Twenty minutes later, you heard the front door swing open without warning, followed by an obnoxious, chaotic chorus of voices.

“Where is she?!” Vicky’s voice rang out like a warning bell.

You didn’t even have time to stand before she appeared around the corner, Hector and Pau hot on her heels, Lamine grinning behind them, Sydney trailing at the back holding a giant bag of snacks.

“There’s my sad little pequena,” Vicky teased, marching over to you and dramatically ruffling your curls.

“Leave me alone. I am literally taller than you,” you grumbled, but you were already fighting back a smile.

Lamine dropped down on the other side of you, slinging an arm around your shoulder like he owned the place.

“You’re not moping today, Estrellita. Emergency field trip.”

“What?” You blinked.

Sydney grinned and held up a Barcelona scarf. “We’re going to watch Pau’s girlfriend play.”

Pau, who was awkwardly pretending he wasn’t smiling ear to ear, waved shyly. “Yeah… she’s starting for Barça B today.”

You shook your head, half exasperated, half already entertained. “You all came here just to drag me to a game?”

Hector laughed, already pulling you up by the arm. “You think we’d miss an opportunity to see you get mad at the refs from the stands?”

“You’re literally concussed,” Vicky added, “but I know for a fact you’ll still be cursing out the linesman under your breath.”

They barely gave you time to argue, shoving a Barça hoodie over your head and handing you a snack from Sydney’s bag before they all herded you out the door like you were a kid again. You tried to look annoyed, but the truth was, something in your chest had already lightened. Even as you groaned and muttered complaints the whole way to the stadium, they kept teasing you, poking your sides, talking over each other until you couldn’t help but laugh.

And by the time you were sitting in the stands, Vicky on one side, Lamine and Sydney sharing a bag of crisps next to you, Pau nervously pointing out his girlfriend warming up, you realized you hadn’t thought about football pressure or expectations once.

The match was in full swing, the crowd around you buzzing with energy, voices bouncing off the small stadium walls. You were right in the middle of it, finally yourself again, concussion forgotten, slumped in the middle of your friends with your hoodie pulled over your curls, yelling unapologetically at the ref like he owed you money.

“Ref, are you blind?! That’s a foul all day!” you shouted, cupping your hands around your mouth as Barcelona B nearly lost possession. Lamine was doubled over laughing next to you, Sydney dramatically shielding her ears, and Vicky shaking her head like she couldn’t believe she was seen in public with you.

“You’re gonna get banned from the B games at this rate,” Hector said, throwing popcorn at you.

But you couldn’t stop, you were finally breathing again, laughing too hard at Lamine’s dumb jokes, swearing under your breath every time the ref blew the whistle for something soft. It felt like the first time in weeks that you weren’t drowning in pressure and expectations.

That was until you saw her. It was just a flash at first, your eyes lazily trailing across the stands as you leaned back, waiting for halftime. A curly head of dark hair, tucked slightly behind one ear, a mini skirt, and a Messi Barça jersey perfectly tucked into it. She wasn’t yelling, wasn’t bouncing around like everyone else— she was just sitting there, one knee bouncing, focused on the game with this quiet sort of intensity.

Your eyes lingered. The girl looked up at that exact moment, her gaze accidentally catching yours. The second your eyes met, she looked away so fast you almost laughed, her hand coming up to tuck her curls nervously behind her ear.

You grinned, sitting forward slightly, already intrigued.

Next to you, Pau followed your gaze and smirked. “Oh… that’s Soleil.”

You glanced at him. “Soleil?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, wiping his palms on his jeans. “She’s my girlfriend’s friend. Just moved here from Monaco to live with her mom. She’s still adjusting, a bit shy. Not really used to all this chaos yet.”

Vicky leaned in, catching where this was going immediately. “Oh no.”

“She’s adorable,” you muttered under your breath, eyes still trailing back to the girl as she quietly leaned toward one of her friends to say something. “Perfect. My type.”

Vicky groaned, throwing her head back. “You’re such an ass.”

“You see how flustered she got when I caught her looking?” you teased, smug grin plastered on your face.

Lamine laughed. “Bro, you haven’t even talked to her yet and you’re already down bad.”

You just shrugged, already planning your next move.

The moment halftime hit, you didn’t even give your friends a chance to breathe. You stood up, dusted off your hoodie, and made a beeline across the stands like a woman on a mission. You heard Hector laughing behind you, Vicky muttering “Oh my God, she’s actually going,” but you didn’t look back.

Soleil was still sitting quietly, surrounded by her friends who were chattering away, but her eyes kept flickering around nervously, like she wasn’t used to being here. When she noticed you walking over, her entire body stiffened, posture straightening like she’d been caught doing something wrong.

You ignored the group around her, coming to a stop right next to her row and shooting her an easy grin. “Hey.”

Her friends immediately quieted, looking between the two of you with raised brows, but Soleil blinked up at you like you’d just walked out of a dream. “Hi?”

“Can I sit?” you asked, not really giving her an option as you plopped down next to her.

Her friends exchanged knowing looks, slowly shuffling further down the row to give you both space.

You glanced at her, noticing how her fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “So… you always stare at people from across stadiums, or is today special?”

Her cheeks flushed instantly, her eyes widening. “I—I wasn’t staring.”

You tilted your head, smiling wider. “You were.”

Soleil looked down at her lap, clearly flustered, curls falling in front of her face like a curtain. “Maybe a little.”

“Good,” you said simply, leaning back like this wasn’t already the highlight of your month. “It was mutual.”

She let out a soft laugh at that, finally glancing at you from beneath her lashes. “I’m Soleil.”

“I know,” you smirked. “Pau told me. Estrella.”

“I know,” she smiled, shy but playful now. “You’re hard to miss.”

You sat slouched in your seat, one leg bouncing restlessly as your arm rested casually on the back of Soleil’s chair, close but not too close— giving her room, but also not letting her forget you were there. Your eyes flicked between the pitch and her face, half-interested in the match at this point, fully interested in her.

“So, Monaco, huh?” you glanced at her, lips tugging into a smirk. “What’s it like over there?”

She tucked a curl behind her ear, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “Quieter. Smaller. A little colder too.”

You hummed, pretending to watch the game but sneaking a glance at her. “And now you’re here… surrounded by loud, annoying football kids.”

Soleil laughed softly, shaking her head. “I don’t mind. It’s… different, but in a good way.”

You let the silence sit for a moment, then shot her a side glance. “You like football?”

She shrugged, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t know much about it. I mean… I like it. I like how people here care so much, how passionate they are. It feels… alive.” She paused, then admitted, “But I don’t always understand the rules.”

You let out a soft laugh, leaning closer. “That’s alright. Half these people don’t either.”

Her eyes flicked to you, curious. “So why do you play?”

You sat with that question for a second, eyes following the ball on the pitch. “Because it’s the only thing that ever made me feel like I belonged. Football saved me when nothing else did.”

She turned slightly, her knees almost brushing yours now. “That’s heavy.”

You gave her a small smile, softer this time. “Yeah, but it’s true. It’s the one place where everything makes sense. But sometimes…” You let out a breath, rubbing your palms against your jeans. “Sometimes I wish I could just slow down. Just… breathe without everyone watching.”

Soleil’s gaze didn’t waver. “Do you ever?”

You glanced at her, meeting her eyes. “Right now? Yeah.”

She flushed again, eyes darting back down to her lap, playing with her rings. “You’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“Making people feel like they’re the only one in the room.”

You tilted your head, grin creeping back. “That’s funny. ‘Cause you’re the only one I’ve noticed all night.”

She shook her head, laughing quietly, trying to hide her smile but failing miserably.

You leaned back, bumping her shoulder lightly with yours. “Tell me something else.”

She bit her lip, thinking. “I like to draw.”

“Yeah?” you glanced at her, interested. “What do you draw?”

“People mostly,” she said softly. “Expressions, hands, little moments I don’t want to forget.”

You felt something tighten in your chest at the way she said it, like she didn’t even realize how gentle her words were.

“I want to work with kids one day,” she added quietly. “I like the way they see the world.”

You looked at her for a long moment, something warm blooming in your chest. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

She rolled her eyes, hiding her face behind her hand. “You’re annoying.”

You grinned. “You’ll get used to it.”

She peeked at you through her fingers, and for the first time, she wasn’t looking away.

You sat there the rest of the match, still yelling at the ref every now and then, but every time you caught her smiling at you when she thought you weren’t looking, you knew you were done for.

By the time the match ended, you hadn’t even noticed the score. You both stood awkwardly, and you rubbed the back of your neck, unsure how to say goodbye without wanting to see her again immediately.

But before you could even figure out what to say, Soleil reached for your phone, fingers brushing yours as she pulled it out of your hand. She typed in her number quickly, saved it, and then—without warning—leaned up on her toes and pressed the softest, shyest kiss to your cheek.

You froze as your breath hitched.

“Call me,” she whispered, smiling like she couldn’t believe she’d actually done that, then turned and jogged to catch up with her friends.

You stood there blinking, processing, until you heard Vicky’s voice behind you.

“No way,” she laughed, grabbing your shoulder. “The great Estrella is blushing.”

Lamine clapped you on the back. “Bro, she folded you.”

Sydney shook her head, grinning. “You were done the second you saw her.”

You ignored all of them, still staring at the spot where Soleil disappeared, your thumb grazing the spot on your cheek where she kissed you, a stupid smile pulling at your lips.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your arm so you could look down at her properly. Your fingers moved without thinking, like muscle memory, brushing a stray curl off her cheek the way you always did when she let her hair dry naturally— wild and soft, curls falling in every direction. The fading sunlight kissed her skin, warm and golden, freckles scattered like tiny constellations across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. You took a breath like you were trying to memorize the moment, the weight of her against you, the hammock swaying lazily beneath you both, her heartbeat tucked against yours.

Your thumb traced slowly along her jaw, then under her chin, tilting her face toward you so she’d look at you properly. Your heart twisted a little when her eyes met yours, like she still didn’t know how magnetic she was, how she stole the air right out of your lungs every time she looked at you like that.

“You changed my life, you know,” you said quietly, voice soft like you were letting her in on the biggest secret in the world.

Soleil’s smile came instantly, but she dropped her gaze, burying her face in your chest like she was trying to hide from how much she loved you. You felt her shy laugh against your collarbone, warm and sweet, her shoulders shaking slightly. You pressed a kiss into the top of her curls, breathing her in.

“You changed mine too,” she murmured into the fabric of your shirt. “I literally thought my world was ending when I moved to Barcelona. I mean… new language, new people, new city. It was everything I was terrified of.”

You smiled, letting your hand gently smooth over her back as she spoke, the familiar rhythm of her voice tugging at something deep inside you.

“I didn’t know who I was supposed to be here,” she continued, quieter now, like she was speaking a truth she didn’t often say out loud. “I thought I’d disappear. Truly an introverts worst nightmare.”

You laughed then, throwing your head back, the sound echoing softly in the quiet evening air. She peeked up at you through her lashes, her lips twitching into a grin despite herself.

“Who would’ve known,” she whispered, voice playful but laced with something much softer beneath it, “that I’d find my whole world in the middle of my worst nightmare?”

You glanced down at her again, and she looked up at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky. She reached up and pressed a soft kiss right over the ink on your forearm— the one she always kissed when she thought you weren’t paying attention. She lingered there, lips warm against your skin, before resting her head back against your chest, her fingers curling into your shirt like she was anchoring herself.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, tightening your arm around her waist and pulling her even closer until you could feel every breath she took.

“I’ll always be grateful for you,” you said quietly, voice rough with emotion. “And I’ll always be glad I got up that day and walked over to you. Even though I looked like an idiot. Even though I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.”

Soleil pulled back slightly, her head tilting up, eyebrows raising in mock offense. “You didn’t,” she teased, a sly smile creeping across her face. “You were so cocky. You sat down like you were God’s gift to Barcelona.”

She tapped her finger against your chest dramatically. “I was sitting there, headphones in, minding my business and then you strutted over like you owned the city.”

You grinned, ducking your head like you were embarrassed, even though you weren’t. Not with her.

“I was like,” she continued, shaking her head, “who is this loud, stupidly pretty girl, and why is she looking at me like that?”

You laughed, but you couldn’t take your eyes off her, the smile slowly fading from your lips as she kept talking, her voice light, teasing.

She noticed. Her breath caught slightly when she saw the way your expression shifted to soft, full, like she was the only thing in the universe.

You leaned forward a little, your nose brushing hers, your hand slipping up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking gently over her skin.

“T’estimo,” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. “Ets l’única per a mi. Per sempre.” (I love you. You are the only one for me. Forever.)

Soleil stilled, eyes wide and glassy as she processed your words. She blinked up at you, her mouth parting slightly. “I… I don’t know all of what you said,” she whispered. “But I heard T’estimo. I know what that means.”

You smiled, the kind of smile that made your cheeks ache, the kind you only ever gave to her.

“Good,” you murmured. “That was the important part.”

Her hands reached up then, sliding to cradle your face, fingers threading gently into your curls. “Je t’aime,” she whispered back, her voice trembling a little now. “You and me, okay? Always. Forever.” (I love you)

You leaned in then, kissing her like it was the first and last time, like you had all the time in the world and not nearly enough. She melted into you, her lips soft and familiar, her hands pulling you closer, like she couldn’t stand even an inch of distance between you.

When you finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her eyes fluttering open slowly, dazed and shining. She giggled breathlessly, like she couldn’t believe how much she loved you.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of her smile.

Then another to the tip of her nose.

And then one more to her lips, just because you could.

“Always and forever,” you whispered against her mouth. “Even when you tease me about being cocky.”

“Oh, I will,” she laughed, her voice light and airy like the sky. “Cocky and hopelessly in love with me.”

You grinned, nudging her nose with yours. “Tragically. Eternally. No cure.”

She laughed again, soft and sweet, and you swore you could feel it all the way down to your ribs.

The hammock rocked gently beneath you, the world around you fading into soft shadows as the sky blushed pink and gold. You tucked her tighter into your chest, resting your chin on the top of her head, breathing her in like she was the safest place you’d ever known.

And all you could think was: thank god you got up that day. Thank god you looked at her. Thank god she looked back.

Because she wasn’t just your whole world. She was your forever.

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demensrage · 4 months ago

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l for lustful adventure ⚊ •. with shoyo hinata

summary: a fun anniversary adventure unleashes the most primitive desires between you. a lustful adventure that you are not willing to deny, there will be put into scenes what was never said between you.

cw: established relationship, dom! hinata, sub! reader, spanking, fingering, oral (m. receiving), overstimulation, unprotected, rough sex, creampie, thight riding, blindfold play.

word count: 9k 💀

You knew how beautiful Brazil was from the constant photos your husband had sent you, but seeing it with your own eyes is a delight that the images can’t capture. Everything looks so vibrant: the sky with an incomparable blue, the lush green plants lining the streets, and the warm sun that caresses your skin with an intensity unknown in Japan. The hustle and bustle of people, the aroma of fresh fruits and coffee floating in the air, and the contagious laughter of street vendors remind you that you’ve crossed the world to a culture where life seems to pulse in every corner.

Now you understand why Hinata had fallen in love with this place, why he spoke about it with so much emotion, why he wanted you to enjoy it too. And now you were there beside him, two weeks into your arrival, and you simply couldn’t get enough of the landscape. A few days weren’t enough to enjoy the wonders of this beautiful country, which is why it was easy to convince him to spend more time there. Your third wedding anniversary was fast approaching, and that was always a good excuse.

The first two weeks were spent enjoying São Paulo, immersing yourselves in its vibrant urban life, exploring the street art in Vila Madalena, the unmatched flavors of the Municipal Market, and the hustle and bustle of downtown. Now, you were ready for the next adventure: Rio de Janeiro. What you longed for most was to see the Christ the Redeemer statue, the imposing guardian of the city that, even in photos, seemed to convey a deep peace. You wanted to see for yourself if its grandeur was as real as it seemed.

You both decided that driving would be a great idea. This way, you could enjoy every stop for food or simply pause to admire the view. The winding road offered captivating landscapes; green mountains contrasting with the blue sky and the emerald sea that seemed to stretch endlessly. You carried your camera, ready to capture every moment and every special corner. From the small towns along the way, each with its own charm, to the street vendors offering sweets and guaraná sodas.

The trip itself was an adventure. The landscapes changed with each stretch of road, and every stop had its unique magic. Sometimes, you both would get out of the car just to feel the warm breeze or enjoy a fresh fruit bought from a roadside vendor. There was something about that road trip that made each kilometer feel like a small victory, a conquest of memories and shared experiences.

You remembered how hard it had been to stay together despite the distance. Hinata was in Brazil for his training, focused on reaching his dreams as a professional player, while you stayed in Japan, clinging to your studies, so close to finishing university that quitting wasn’t an option. The nights were especially tough; the time difference and the absence of his voice made the emptiness feel deeper.

However, you found a way to cope. Every morning, you woke up to a message from him, telling you how he woke up in Brazil, talking about his training, how the weather and the language were a constant challenge, but also his excitement about being so close to fulfilling his dreams. Sometimes, the messages came with spontaneous photos: one of him with his teammates, another of a typical Brazilian dish he was trying for the first time, or one of the urban landscape surrounding him.

For your part, you sent him pictures of the corners of the university, the notes you hated so much, and the books that seemed endless. These small routines became your refuge, reminding both of you that, although you were separated by thousands of kilometers, your lives were still shared in those little details.

All that effort, every sacrifice, and every day of waiting had been worth it. In the last game of the season, when everything was set for him to come home with you, Hinata decided to dedicate the final shot to you, sealing the victory in your name. The emotion overwhelmed you; despite the struggles to arrive on time, the flight delays, and the anxiety of a lost suitcase, you had made it just in time. The language barrier complicated everything, but nothing mattered at that moment. From the stands, your eyes met his, and in that instant, you knew he had seen you. With that unmistakable spark in his gaze, he made the shot that would define the game… and won it for you.

The stadium erupted in cheers, but for him, it wasn't enough; no, Hinata always had to celebrate in grand style. So, with his heart pounding a thousand beats per minute and emotions running high, he ran toward you in the stands, weaving through his teammates and the crowd until he reached you. He took your hand without hesitation, and, amidst applause and astonished gasps, he knelt down. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his eyes shining and a smile that disarmed you. The proposal echoed in the stadium, and in that moment, the whole world seemed to stop. You said yes, between laughter and tears, and you were the happiest woman in that crowded place because he, your Hinata, had made that victory a double one: he had won the game and also your heart forever.

Now, as you enjoyed this trip, you felt that every moment by his side was a new opportunity to create lasting memories, moments that, over the years, would fill your life with stories to tell. You were ready to enjoy his company in every stage of life, even when youth faded and the years brought new adventures.

As Hinata helped you take the bags out of the car, the golden light of the sunset wrapped everything around you, and although the city's sound was constant, you paused for a moment to absorb the view of the hotel. The horizon stretched out before you, with the sea reflecting the last rays of the sun and the mountains in the distance, like a perfect painting. You felt fortunate because this trip, like so many others to come, wasn’t just about the places you’d visit, but about what you shared on the journey.

Hinata approached you, noticing you had become still, and with a tender smile, he took your hand. "Do you like the view?" he asked, with the calmness that only he could convey. "Yes," you answered, not taking your eyes off the scene. "It's perfect. Will you take me to that bar you told me about?"

Hinata smiled at your question, his gaze lit by the sunset. "Of course, it's a special place," he said, interlacing his fingers with yours as he began walking toward the hotel. "It's close to the beach, with an incredible view, and the live music is always so good it makes you forget everything else."

The idea of sharing that place with him, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere while the sun slowly faded behind the mountains, filled you with excitement. You knew it wasn’t just the bar that made it special, but everything it represented: a little corner of the world where you both would feel even more connected, sharing laughter, conversations, and dreams.

As you walked toward the hotel entrance, you thought about how lucky you were to be there, at that moment. It didn’t matter how many places you explored; the most important thing was always being together, creating memories that would be part of your shared story.

Hearing Hinata speak Portuguese while asking for the hotel keys was a new pleasure you had just discovered. His voice, already soft and warm in Japanese, became even deeper and more resonant when he spoke this new language, as if each syllable were imbued with a warmth only he could convey.

The way his accent added a different twist to his tone made you smile unconsciously, a feeling of comfort and admiration that grew with every sentence. It was as if, by speaking Portuguese, his essence became even more charming, more connected to the land that had captured his heart at that point in his life.

You stayed there, watching him as he smiled while receiving the keys and offered you a knowing glance. "We'll be in the room soon. Would you like to rest or explore a bit more?" he asked, unaware that, by doing so, he had once again captivated you with that mix of tenderness and confidence only he could convey.

"Let’s go to that bar, I’m eager to check it out," you replied enthusiastically, taking his arm naturally as you walked together toward the elevator. The contact was warm, and the connection between you both felt as solid as ever.

"I rested a lot on the road trip," you added with a soft smile. "Unless you want to rest, of course." You turned to look at him, noticing how his eyes sparkled with that unmistakable energy that always characterized him.

Hinata laughed softly, shaking his head. "Rest? With so much to explore? Impossible," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "Let’s go to the bar, but promise me you'll let yourself be amazed by the night view from the beach afterward. It’s something you have to see."

"I promise," you said without hesitation, feeling more and more excited about what the night would bring. The elevator arrived, and you both got in, enjoying those small moments together that made everything worth it.

The bar's atmosphere was filled with a mix of laughter, soft music, and the melting pot of languages flowing among the groups of tourists and locals. The dim lights illuminated the tables, but it was the dance floor that truly caught everyone's attention. People moved to the rhythm of samba and other Brazilian genres with a natural sensuality that seemed to flow from every movement, as if the music had completely taken over their bodies. The bright colors of the dancers' outfits and the sparkle of glasses on the tables added a warm, almost magical ambiance that enveloped you effortlessly.

You felt comfortable, relaxed, with a glass of piña colada with vodka in your hand, the ice still crunching with the first sip. The sweet, fruity flavor of the cocktail contrasted perfectly with the stronger kick of the vodka, giving you a small push of courage. You were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol—a slight euphoria that made everything around you feel more vibrant, more intimate.

Hinata, seated beside you, smiled as he noticed your gaze fixed on the dance floor. There was something in the way you watched the couples, how they surrendered themselves to the music, that made him realize it intrigued you more than you had let on.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, not expecting much more than a nod of acceptance. But he noticed something in your expression—a mix of curiosity and a desire to explore something new, something he hadn’t seen in you before.

You didn’t need more words. Without hesitation, you stood up, taking his hand and leading him toward the floor. “Yes,” you said, a mischievous smile surprising even yourself. “I want to try it. I want to see how they do it.”

The music grew louder as you began moving to the rhythm like the Brazilians. It wasn’t just the dancing that drew you in but the way every movement seemed to be a pure expression of sensuality and confidence. You, a little uncertain at first, grew increasingly comfortable, mimicking the moves with Hinata by your side, both of you laughing.

“I think I’m struggling a bit,” you said, glancing at your husband with a playful grin. “But... would you like to teach me how to do it right?”

Hinata looked at you with a mix of admiration and amusement in his eyes. He understood what that question might imply but didn’t want to rush to conclusions. His face lit up with a warm smile, the one he always wore when he saw you open to new experiences. “Of course,” he replied, stepping closer and placing his hands on your waist, guiding your body with his to the rhythm of the music.

Somehow, the dance, the alcohol, and the atmosphere charged with sensuality began opening doors you hadn’t considered before. As you moved more freely, you realized how much you longed to be closer to him—not just physically, but in a deeper, more intimate way.

What started as a fun dancing game quickly transformed into something more profound, more personal. His hands, firm yet gentle, slowly slid down to your hips, pulling you toward him with subtle but undeniable force. The music shifted, becoming slower, more sensual, as if it mirrored the connection forming between you two. The soft, rhythmic beats intertwined with the rapid thudding of your own heart, creating a unique melody just for the two of you.

Hinata guided you expertly, making your body move in slow, synchronized circles against his. Every sway of your hips felt like a silent conversation, a whisper shared between the dance and the growing desire. The brush of your bodies generated a palpable electricity, a heat that went beyond the room's temperature. You weren’t sure if it was the closeness of his body, the warmth of the atmosphere, or perhaps the combination of both, but the fire began to flood every corner of your being.

Your eyes closed with a soft sigh, surrendering completely. It didn’t matter if the music was slow or if others were moving around you; at that moment, everything else faded away. There was only the two of you, the rhythm of the music, the whisper of his breathing, and the touch of your bodies, as if the world around you dissolved, leaving you in a perfect, desire-filled bubble.

You felt more alive than ever, as though the simple sensation of his closeness was a reminder of how much you had been holding back, how much you wanted to explore. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel insecure or shy. Passion, desire—everything you had kept buried—was now surfacing in a way you hadn’t known existed, but you relished it with every fiber of your being.

One of Hinata’s hands slid gently from your hips to your jaw, holding it with a firm yet tender grip that made your eyes flutter open slowly. His thumb brushed your skin with an almost reverent delicacy, tilting your face to one side as he leaned in. There was no rush in his movements, only a quiet determination that left you breathless.

When his lips finally met yours, it was as though everything else disappeared entirely. The bar, the music, the people around you… none of it mattered. The kiss was slow, deep, and full of emotions that seemed to have built up over days. You had forgotten how much you missed this—this intimate connection with him. During the trip, both of you had focused so much on landscapes, laughter, and new experiences that, unintentionally, these moments of closeness had been set aside.

The kiss became a reminder of everything you shared, a silent language saying more than words ever could. You felt the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his hands, and that unmistakable love that had always defined your relationship. His other hand remained on your hip, keeping you close, as if afraid you might pull away.

When you finally separated, his eyes searched yours, and in that gaze, you found a blend of love, desire, and something more—something you couldn’t quite define but that ignited the spark within you even further. “I missed this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with emotion. “So much.”

You smiled softly, feeling your heart pound. “Me too, Hinata,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his, loving the way he seemed to adore you even in the gentle touch of his gaze. “I think we forgot how important this is, how important you are to me.”

His fingers barely grazed your back as he held you close, a gesture that, at any other time, might have gone unnoticed, but now, with the warmth of his touch, sent a shiver down your spine. It was so subtle yet laden with meaning that your thoughts began to drift, taking you back to a recent conversation with your friends.

It had been a quiet afternoon, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. They had started with light topics—travel, restaurants, daily routines—but, as always happened with that group, the conversation had turned more personal, more intimate.

Your friends, amid sighs and nervous giggles, began sharing details about their own dynamics with their partners. “Have you ever tried something… different?” one of them asked with a mischievous smile as she swirled her wine glass. “Sometimes, a little roughness can spark things you didn’t even know you wanted.”

Another nodded, bursting into laughter as she recounted how her partner had surprised her one night with a firmer grip, a whispered command in her ear. The way they spoke, with a mix of playfulness and satisfaction, had left you intrigued. Though you tried to stay on the sidelines, their eyes turned to you, expectant.

“And you?” they asked almost in unison, smiling conspiratorially.

You laughed, a bit nervously, as your cheeks turned red. “We’re… well, we’ve always been more… traditional, I guess,” you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed, though your friends didn’t judge you in the slightest. “We’ve never really talked about anything like that.”

"Well, you should," one of them chimed in enthusiastically. "You have no idea how liberating it can be. It's not about stopping enjoying what you already have; it's about exploring more, discovering new ways to connect together."

Those words had stuck with you ever since, echoing louder and louder in your mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your intimate life with Hinata; on the contrary, you loved him and felt that you shared something special. But the idea of exploring, of finding a different side of the two of you, had left you wondering. What if there was more to discover, something you both could enjoy together if only you dared to bring it up?

Back in the present, the touch of his hand running down your back pulled you from your thoughts. His eyes met yours, soft and warm, but there was something more in his gaze, a spark that had perhaps always been there but that you were now noticing more clearly. Could you talk about it? Should you risk breaking the silence on this subject?

What if this wasn’t the right moment? Doubt anchored itself in your mind, immobilizing you. Talking about your sex life with Hinata, though it shouldn’t be complicated, felt like opening a door you weren’t sure how to close afterward. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—on the contrary, if there was anyone you could be vulnerable with, it was him. But the fear of making him uncomfortable or, worse, of him misunderstanding what you meant, filled you with uncertainty.

When is the right time to talk about something like this? As you watched him with that smile that always seemed to brighten any room, you wondered if a "perfect moment" even existed. Would it be on a quiet night when you were both relaxed at home? Or maybe in a spontaneous moment, like now, with the background music and the soft lights of the bar creating an ambiance straight out of a romantic movie?

You bit your lip, trying to untangle your thoughts. The way Hinata held you, how his eyes seemed to read yours, gave you a glimmer of confidence. But you still didn’t know how to start, how to put into words something so intimate that it could change dynamics you had both spent years building.

"Are you okay?" His voice came softly, pulling you back to the present. His brow furrowed slightly, worried, as if he had noticed something different about you.

"Yeah, of course," you lied with a smile, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

Hinata knew you too well, and the worst part was that he would probably give you all the time in the world to say whatever was on your mind. The problem was that you didn’t even know how to start. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, but you also knew that if you kept waiting for that perfect moment, you might stay silent forever.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t about finding the moment but creating it.

"Don’t be reckless," you scolded yourself silently, as if those words could keep the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind at bay. You couldn’t afford to ruin the atmosphere—not now, not when everything seemed to flow so naturally.

But at the same time, there was something you couldn’t ignore: the feeling that this moment might be exactly what you needed to take the first step. The brush of his hands on your hips, the warmth radiating from his body, the way his eyes sparkled with a mix of playfulness and desire—it all seemed to conspire to push you to speak.

"What’s wrong?" Hinata broke the silence, leaning in a little closer to ensure his voice wasn’t lost in the music and laughter of the bar. His fingers traced small circles on your waist, a gesture so casual yet charged with intimacy.

"It’s just... nothing, it’s nothing," you replied hastily, trying to divert his attention with a smile that probably wasn’t as convincing as you’d hoped.

He raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe your response for a second. "If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be so distracted," he pointed out gently, his tone filled with that infinite patience that always disarmed you.

You sighed, looking away toward the cocktail in your hand. "I don’t want to ruin the moment," you admitted in a low voice, more to yourself than to him.

"Then don’t ruin it," he replied with a mischievous smile, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Just enjoy, and when you’re ready to talk, I’m here."

His words, simple but full of meaning, made something inside you relax. You didn’t have to rush or find the perfect words immediately. This moment wasn’t the end of anything—it was the beginning of everything.

You gave yourself a mental slap, forcing yourself to gather the necessary courage. You bit your lip hard, trying to silence the avalanche of doubts that continued to assault you. Instead of speaking, you turned with determination, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your bodies move in unison to the music.

Hinata looked at you with a mix of surprise and tenderness but said nothing. He simply leaned a little closer to you, his lips brushing against your temple while his hands found a steady rhythm on your waist.

The warmth of his closeness and the electricity of the moment made you feel safe—for now. You reminded yourself that there was no need to rush. There was time. This journey, after all, was just for the two of you.

"When we get to the hotel, I’ll do it," you silently promised yourself, closing your eyes as you let the rhythm of the music envelop you. You had to do it—not because of your friends’ advice but for yourself. You wanted to open that door with him, to explore something more, something new, something only the two of you could discover together.

For now, you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment, feeling safe in his arms, knowing that when the time came, he’d be ready to listen.

You sat on the bed with a sigh of relief, your hands reaching for the heels you had worn all day. You took them off urgently, as if your ankles were begging for a break after hours of endurance.

Hinata closed the door behind him, leaving the key on the nightstand as he watched you with a slight smile. "Too much dancing for one night?" he teased, walking over to sit beside you on the bed.

"Too much dancing for these shoes," you replied with a soft laugh, massaging your feet with your hands. "But it was worth it."

"It's always worth it when I see you enjoying yourself like that," he said, leaning in to gently take one of your feet, helping with the massage. His firm fingers found the exact spots, drawing a sigh of relief from you.

The gesture made your heart skip a beat. You looked at him, his eyes focused on his task, his expression so calm and attentive. It was the perfect moment, yet you still felt a lump in your throat.

"Thank you," you murmured finally, more for the massage than anything else, though deep down, you knew there was more weight behind that word.

Hinata looked up at you, noticing something in your tone. "Is something wrong?" he asked softly, setting your foot aside and turning to face you fully.

You took a deep breath, feeling how the moment you'd been putting off all day had finally caught up to you.

The question slipped from your lips before you could consider if it was the right way to approach it—a sudden impulse overtaking you. But with Hinata, there was never a "right" way to do things; everything was always spontaneous, natural, as if the world around you disappeared in the space where only the two of you existed.

"Have you ever thought about... more?" The phrase hung in the air between you, a question laden with as much uncertainty as curiosity.

Hinata stayed silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours as he read your expression. It wasn’t the reaction you had expected, but it didn’t surprise you either. He had always been an open book, yet now, something in his gaze seemed deeper, more attentive.

"More of what?" he asked, his voice gentle, as if trying to understand exactly what you meant.

The vulnerability lingered in every word that left your lips, but you didn’t stop. You had started speaking without filters, and there was no turning back now. You looked at Hinata with determination, though the knot in your stomach remained.

"More about us, you know... sexually."

The words, as direct as they were, seemed to hang in the air for a moment, the weight of them filling the room. The atmosphere shifted immediately, the tension in the air palpable. But it wasn’t discomfort—not for him, at least.

Hinata looked at you attentively, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. His expression was a mix of surprise and curiosity, but also something else you couldn’t quite identify.

"More about us?" he repeated, his tone calm, as if he were processing what you had said. "You mean exploring something different? Something... more."

You nodded, a bit embarrassed but unwilling to back down. "Yes, that. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I don’t know, sometimes I feel like there’s something beyond what we’ve tried, something we could explore together if... if you’re interested too."

Hinata stayed silent for a moment, as if deeply reflecting. Then, with a compassionate smile, he gently took your hands and intertwined them with his.

"My love," he said, his tone so warm it made you feel like you could trust him completely, "I’ve always wanted you to feel comfortable and happy. And I never want you to feel like we can’t talk about anything. If this is what you want, then of course, we’ll do it together, at your pace."

The warmth of his words gave you the reassurance you needed. There was no judgment, only an open willingness to explore what you desired—what both of you desired.

"Although... I never brought it up because I was afraid," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Afraid of making you feel insecure. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t enjoying sex with you."

His words struck you right in the heart, his vulnerability opening up to you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. The gesture—his hand scratching the back of his neck, so human, so sincere—made you realize how much he had worried about you, even in moments when he hadn’t said a word.

"I didn’t want you to think I don’t enjoy having sex with you," he continued, his gaze lowered as if he couldn’t fully look at you. "Because I do—more than I can put into words. But I didn’t want to pressure you, didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or like there was something wrong with what we already share."

For a moment, you stayed silent, absorbing what he had just confessed. You’d been so focused on your own thoughts and desires that you hadn’t considered Hinata’s side, his own fears. You looked at him, and the affection you felt for him grew even stronger.

"But now I know we need to talk about this," he said firmly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. "So if there’s something you want to explore... I want us to do it together. No matter how different it might be, if you’re ready, I’ll be ready too."

The relief you felt was almost immediate. It was as if all the tension that had been building between you, the small unspoken fears and doubts, dissolved in that moment.

"You didn’t need to be afraid," you said softly, taking his hand and brushing your fingers over it. "I would never want you to feel that way, Hinata. All I want is for us to be okay, to be together, and to always be able to talk about what we want."

He nodded slowly, a shy smile forming on his lips. "So... we’ll explore whatever you want to explore?" Your smile was answer enough, and in the end, no more words were necessary.

What had started as an open and honest conversation quickly transformed into a deeper connection—both physical and emotional. Hinata’s proximity, his touch at once decisive and tender, made your heart race. Without speaking, but with a gaze full of understanding, he made it clear that you both shared the desire to explore the unknown, to dive into new experiences together.

His hand, firm on your hips, gently pulled you toward him with a palpable desire. You felt his warmth through the fabric, and when he sat you on his lap, the contact became immediate and electrifying. The closeness didn’t just ignite the spark; it turned it into a blazing fire.

His lips found yours with a passion you hadn’t shared in some time—a renewed passion born from the vulnerability and sincerity of your conversation. His kiss was slow at first, exploratory, as if savoring every second of this new chapter in your relationship.

Your body responded instantly, instinctively leaning closer, letting yourself be swept away by the intensity of the moment. The feeling of being so near, of sharing something so intimate, filled you with a mix of nerves and excitement.

What started as a gentle kiss intensified with each second. Hinata's hands, which until now had been so careful, began to move with more determination. They ran down your back, touching the softness of your skin with a mix of urgency and devotion, as if they didn't want to leave anything unexplored. The touch of his hands against your body sent a warm current through your veins, an intense sensation that you hadn't experienced like that before.

His kiss became more demanding, an unexpected contrast to his usual tenderness, but somehow it was exactly what you wanted. Every movement of his lips and hands brought you closer to him, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The world outside the room ceased to exist, leaving only the contact, the shared desire that now flowed unrestricted.

Every caress, every brush of skin on skin, seemed to have a purpose, as if both could read each other's desires without the need for words. The touch of his hands, so firm and soft at the same time, ran over your body with a familiarity that felt new, as if everything that had been kept in the silence of the previous years now wanted to come to light.

Your hand traveled to his abdomen, under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. There was something about that closeness that made you feel freer, more alive, as if you could finally allow yourself to be yourself without reservation. The pressure of his lips against yours, followed by his hand on the back of your neck, increased the desire to be even closer.

Each movement of his body towards yours made you want to explore more, discover more about what you both wanted at that moment. His hand, which had traveled to your leg, slightly lifted the fabric of your skirt, revealing your skin, making a shiver run through your body. The mix of sensations, the touch of his skin against yours was all you needed to lose yourself in the moment.

“Tell me what you want to do,” he whispered, his deep voice echoing in your ears, filling you with an indescribable feeling, a desire that grew with every word.

His lips moved with precision, leaving a trail of heat on the skin of your neck. Soft, barely perceptible bites followed by open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His breath against your skin mixed with the soft hum of the air conditioner, his every move igniting something inside you.

There was no rush in his actions, but no unnecessary softness either. It was a calculated intensity, a mix of dominance and attention that kept your senses alert. His firm hand on your hip held you in place, while his mouth explored every inch of your neck with a precision that seemed designed to make you lose yourself in the sensation.

His hands slowly moved down, firm and determined, until he squeezed your ass with a dominance that made you inhale sharply. The instinctive movement of your hips against his leg sent a wave of electricity through your body, suddenly reminding you of the question he had asked moments before.

“Tell me what you want to do,” he had said, and now the voice resonated in your mind like a persistent echo, as deep and clear as the heat radiating from his body.

You bit your lip, trying to organize your thoughts as your hips continued to seek contact, unconsciously marking a rhythm on his thigh. His gaze, dark and fixed on yours, seemed to demand a response, but not of empty words, but of action.

Your hands moved decisively, gripping his thighs with a firmness that made him raise an eyebrow, somewhere between surprised and fascinated. You knew how much you liked them, and you weren’t going to be shy about it. The pressure of your fingers on the well-defined muscles was a pleasure in itself, but the position you were in gave you more control, more freedom.

You moved your hips against him confidently, seeking to explore the connection his thighs could offer you. A spark of amusement crossed his face at the sight of your determination. “That’s it,” he murmured in a low, almost defiant tone, his hands returning to your hips to support you as he followed your every move.

With one agile movement, Hinata’s hands shot to your shoulders, holding you firmly but never losing his usual gentleness. Before you could process what was happening, he lifted you slightly, making you feel light as a feather in his arms.

With unparalleled delicacy, his nimble fingers slid your panties down in a determined motion. His dark eyes searched yours intently, as if asking for permission and confirmation to continue, though the heat in the air said it all. It was clear that every action of his was meant to make you feel better, more comfortable, and completely adored under his care.

Firmly, Hinata guided your hips back to his thigh, forcing you to sit on it once more. The intensity in his gaze left no room for doubt; in that moment, you were all that existed for him. The feel of the fabric of his pants against your bare skin was something new and unexpected, a contrast between rough and delicate that made you hold your breath.

With an almost frantic desire, your hips move hard on Hinata's thigh, searching for the perfect friction that will bring you to ecstasy. Each thrust of his leg against your pussy is like an explosion that shakes every cell of your being and leaves you yearning for more.

The wetness between your legs becomes overwhelming, almost painful, but you can't stop yourself. Each touch is like an intense electric current running through your body from your core to your toes. In that moment, you are completely immersed in surrender to the pleasure shared with Hinata.

You brought your hands to his shoulders, seeking a foothold as you let yourself be carried away by the need that flooded your body. The constant movement awakened sensations that were new to you, a heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability. Your fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt, an anchor you needed to not lose yourself completely in the whirlwind of emotions that consumed you.

"Are you feeling so desperate that you need to fuck yourself on my thigh?" Hinata whispered huskily, his hot breath tickling your ear. It was a question, but also a confident statement, as if he already knew the answer and was willing to take control.

Hinata’s hands slid down your hips, his thumbs tracing circles over your skin, heightening the intensity of the moment. The pressure of his thigh beneath you and the growing heat of his skin against yours made you feel a mix of euphoria and freedom that you hadn’t anticipated.

Hinata gripped your hips with a merciless grip, guiding you through each movement with surgical precision. “Don’t stop,” he ordered in a deep voice that rumbled inside you, charged with a fierce authority you had never known before. His eyes remained fixed on you, devouring your every expression as if it were his most prized food.

Without hesitation, you obeyed and moved with more confidence, allowing yourself to feel every touch, every pressure he generated as he held you with an almost painful firmness. Suddenly, his hands moved down from your hips to the base of your shirt and grabbed it with determination. In one fluid movement, he pulled the fabric up and removed it without hesitation.

The cool air hit your bare skin and it was such a sharp contrast to the heat of the room that it reminded you of how exposed you were in front of him. But Hinata didn’t stop there. With impressive dexterity, he found the clasp of your bra and opened it with a simple movement. The garment fell to the floor, leaving your skin exposed.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself, as his hands returned to your hips, making sure you didn’t break the rhythm he had set.

His lips returned to your neck, nibbling and sucking on the tender skin exposed before him, leaving marks, which for him are a direct way of claiming you in the sight of anyone. The whispered words of praise made your skin prickle and a shiver run through your body.

One of his hands settled on your back, pulling you towards him as he took one of your breasts between his lips. He gently tugged on your hard nipple with his teeth before rubbing it against his tongue, while his free hand pinched the other with a perfect mix of pressure and softness.

Your hips moved harder against him, seeking that perfect friction with each powerful thrust that made your body shudder with pleasure. Your head fell back, letting out moans and cries as his strong thigh repeatedly hit your clit and brought you to uncontrollable ecstasy.

“Hinata!” you screamed his name loudly, a desperate plea to climax. The movement of your hips grew faster and wilder, driven by a burning desire that consumed you. Your sensitive, swollen folds pressed against his thigh urgently, the juices of your arousal leaking from between them and soaking the fabric of his pants.

The pleasure was so intense that your words were jumbled together and coming out in incoherent babbles. His lips moved messily around your nipple, sucking and nibbling with deviously delicious skill while his other hand continued to torture the sensitive nub, making you even wetter than you already were. “Cum on my thigh,” he ordered you in a husky voice.

Your body was taken over by a loud moan that escaped your lips, dragging you into an orgasm that shook your entire being and made you tremble in Hinata’s arms. He stopped tending to your breasts, looking at you with desire as your watery eyes begged for his cock. But he wasn’t ready to give it to you yet, still wanting to see you come undone under his caresses before burying his member in your tight, wet hole.

“Please,” you begged, seeking his lips, but he stopped you with a firm hand holding your hair, keeping you in place. Hinata ran his tongue across your lips before gently tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. “No,” he said firmly, “You will be a good slut for me and take everything I have to give you.”

Hinata held your hips tightly and dropped you onto the bed, your back sinking slightly into the mattress as he stood in front of you. His eyes met yours for an instant, heavy with something beyond words, something raw, unadorned.

With quick, almost mechanical movements, he unbuttoned his shirt. Buttons came free one by one until the white fabric fell from his shoulders, sliding unceremoniously to the floor. He didn’t stop. His hands moved to his waist, undoing his belt and pushing the rest of his clothes away in a hurry, as if they were more of a nuisance than a prelude.

Each piece went to a different place in the room. The movements weren’t delicate or careful; they were impulsive, as if time wasn’t something he could afford to waste.

You watched him from the bed, motionless but expectant, following each movement with your eyes, analyzing, processing. There were no smiles or unnecessary gestures, just the immediacy of a shared moment, the silence being interrupted only by the sound of clothes falling to the floor.

When he was completely naked, Hinata stood there for a moment, his breathing heavy but controlled. There was a palpable tension in the air, not of tenderness, but of something more physical, more instinctive. Then he leaned towards you, his hands resting on the mattress on either side of your body, and let the next movement speak for itself.

With a determined movement, he took the wrinkled fabric of your skirt in his large hands and pulled it up, exposing your hips. The skirt was a work of art, too pretty to be carelessly removed.

His hands spread your legs, exposing your cute pussy to his view. His gaze rested on it with a mix of desire and admiration. “You have the most beautiful pussy,” he said in a deep, almost husky voice. His honesty was so direct that it left no room for doubt. “It’s like it was made to tempt me… always so perfect.”

One of his hands gently caressed the inside of your thigh, while he used two fingers to part your swollen folds and continue to enjoy the sight. Your pussy glistened with the moisture that continued to ooze out of it.

He used his thumb to rub your clit, and you were so sensitive from the recent orgasm that your hips pressed hard against the mattress in search of relief. But his firm hands wouldn’t let you close your legs. Suddenly, he slapped your pussy. The sound of your wet skin being slapped echoed throughout the room.

“I asked you to be a good slut for me,” he growls as two of his fingers plunge into your dripping hole up to the knuckles. Hinata’s touch didn’t stop; his pace, slow and deliberate at first, began to increase in intensity.

His skilled fingers moved with increasing speed, delving right into that sweet spot inside you that had your body arching almost immediately. His gaze remained fixed on your face, attentive to every sound, every movement you made. Your eyes fluttered shut instinctively, immersing you in a sea of overwhelming sensations.

The change was instantaneous. You, who until then had maintained a fragile control, let out a stifled moan, followed by a succession of broken gasps that filled the room. Your body convulsed under Hinata's expert touches, while he continued to explore every corner of your being with his fingers and his burning gaze.

Your hands clung to the sheets with desperate strength, squeezing and twisting them between your fingers as they searched for something to anchor themselves to in the midst of ecstasy. The sheets gave way under your relentless grip, forming deep wrinkles where your strength marked them. The soft sound of the fabric tearing echoed in the room, mixing with your moans and sighs.

Moans and moans escaped your mouth in desperation, as you tried to pull your hypersensitive pussy away from Hinata's relentless movements. But he gave you no respite, he was determined to tear another orgasm from you. With each thrust, your inner walls tightened and unclenched in an endless dance, enveloping his fingers tightly. Hinata increased the pace of his movements, his fingers thrusting in and out with frantic speed, seeking out that sensitive area that made you shudder.

His curled fingers caressed and pressed against your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You can take it, you have a greedy pussy,” he murmured, urging you to give yourself over completely to the ecstasy that awaited you.

"Your rubbery walls clenched tightly against his fingers, as your hips curved away from the bed in a sensual arch. Your voice spilled over into cries, calling his name over and over as your legs shook uncontrollably.

You couldn't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure he was bringing you, the way he was finger fucking you so delicious it even hurt. "More, oh god," you moaned, your hand desperately reaching out to grab onto his wrist to find some support on him. "I need another, please," you begged desperately, because you knew two fingers would never be enough to match the feeling his fat cock was providing you.

Every single one of your moans and pleading words gave him the confirmation he wanted: you were completely lost in that moment, completely his. Hinata noticed the change in your breathing, his body beginning to shake with the unmistakable sign that you were close to climax.

You gasped, unable to keep yourself in silence, your moans increasing in volume and desperation. “No… please don’t stop…” you begged, gripping the sheets even tighter, completely lost in what he was doing to you.

Ecstasy exploded once again, a torrent of uncontrollable sensations flooding over you. Your walls clenched tightly around his expert fingers, as if they wanted to lose themselves in them forever. His every move was a symphony of pleasure, every touch an explosion of fire and passion. You couldn’t control the moans escaping your mouth, nor did you want to.

Gently, Hinata removed his fingers from your body and brought them to your lips. “Open your mouth and suck on them” was his command, and you obeyed immediately, tasting your own juices on his fingers. A moan escaped your lips at the feel of you on him. Hinata stepped away for a moment to rummage through his things until he found what he was looking for: a black tie. A smile spread across his face as he approached you with it in his hand.

“Come here,” he whispered, waiting for you. Without question, you walked over to him and climbed down from the bed until you were in front of his body. Hinata wrapped the soft fabric around you, covering your eyes. Firmly, he tied the tie around your eyes, securing it tightly, leaving you completely blind to what was to come. Your world instantly went dark, your other senses heightening. The sound of his breathing, the feel of the sheets, the feeling of your skin still warming from his touch.

“You can’t see now, but you will hear everything I do.” His voice was low, filled with absolute confidence, allowing you to feel safe next to him. “Now, get on your knees.”

With a mix of anticipation and submission, you complied immediately. Your body trembled slightly, unable to contain the excitement that coursed through your being. With your head slightly bowed and your hands resting on your thighs, you knelt before him. You could still feel your heart racing and the agitated exhale from everything you had already experienced up to that point.

“I want to taste you,” you said shamelessly, making clear your deepest desires. The thought of it alone made your mouth water. The boldness of your words made a cocky smile appear on Hinata’s lips, his gaze darkening as he took in the lust you emanated. One of your hands ran up his legs, wrapping around his hard cock greedily.

With a firm hand, you explore every vein and ridge of his cock, feeling the warmth and strength of his member against your palm. With your thumb, you playfully stroke the tip of his cock, feeling the precum leaking out onto your hand. Eager to taste him, you take a teasing lick along his length.

Hinata moves his hips against you in a rhythm that makes you crave more. Without a second thought, you take his member into your mouth, taking in as much as he can fit in while using your hand to circle what can’t fit in your mouth. You feel him tighten his grip on your hair as you bob your head up and down his length, stimulating his tip with your playful tongue.

With a sharp movement, Hinata began to thrust his hips into your mouth. His movements were quick and precise, hitting the back of your throat over and over as he gripped your hair tightly to keep you in place as he continued to fuck your throat mercilessly. His rough moans escaped between his parted lips, filling the air with a heady mix of lust and unbridled desire.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” His words were rough and raw, but his voice was filled with pleasure as he growled with each thrust. His hips moved in a frantic rhythm, thrusting back and forth in a constant cycle. His hands were firmly held onto your thighs, holding you up so you could keep up with the fluid motion of your mouth on him. Each sensation was intense and electrifying, making you wonder how you could last much longer.

With his mind clouded with desire, Hinata could only think of how good your warm, tight pussy would feel around his cock. He pulled his member out of your mouth, and with one swift movement, he pushed you off of him. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath.

“Get up,” Hinata ordered you huskily. He guided you towards the bed, waiting for you to climb in, and before you could turn around, he pushed your chest hard into the mattress, making it clear that he wanted to fuck you in doggy style. The tip of his cock slammed into your still sensitive pussy from his earlier ministrations, drawing an uncontrollable moan from you.

“Hinata!” you cried out loudly as you felt him thrust into you hard, his hips colliding with your raised ass cheeks for him. His hands held the swirling skirt at your waist to use as leverage to pull you into him with each thrust.

“You have the most exquisite pussy, baby. Fuck, you take me so well,” Hinata murmured between moans. One of his hands squeezed your ass and slapped it hard, while the other kneaded the sensitive skin. “Oh god, oh god, don’t stop,” you begged as pleasure took over your entire body.

A series of spanks echoed through the room, leaving red marks on your ass cheeks as Hinata thrust into you hard again and again. The steady rhythm of thrusting in and out of you made your skin crawl and your moans turned into screams of pleasure. Your inner walls clenched around him, refusing to let go. All you could think about was how well your husband was fucking you, his member pushing deep into your vagina and caressing your cervix, making you scream even louder.

Rebel tears fell onto the fabric of the tie tied to your eyes as you enjoyed each thrust. With one hand, you reached for your clit and stimulated it in circular motions, adding yet another layer of pleasure to your body.

You were sure that Hinata’s powerful hand would leave marks on your hips the next day, but that didn’t matter as he continued to pound you hard and passionately. Each crash against your inner walls made the sound of sloshing fill the room, and you clenched down harder seeking to milk him for all the pleasure possible.

“Please fill me,” you begged Hinata, moving your hips in rhythm with his and squeezing him even further inside you.

With one last thrust, Hinata let himself go and spilled inside you, filling you with his essence as you reached a climax so intense it left you shaking. Together, you lay there tangled in a mix of sweat and pleasure, until you finally caught your breath and broke apart to rest on the bed.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo smut #—demensrage.

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