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shegetsburned · 7 months ago

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Uhm hi 👋🏻 could you please write something about Gojo, Nanami, Geto and Toji's reactions to their significant other's life being threatened? Like heartbreaking stuff that ends up well? 👉🏻👈🏻

LOSING YOU w. jujutsu kaisen men ˚ 𐙚 ⋆.

.angst/fluff.

• — ft. satoru gojo, kento nanami, suguru geto, toji fushiguro. took me ages to get to but i’m a sucker for angst, so i just had to do it. thanks for the request, luv! • — content. their reaction to your life being threatened. • — tw. mentions of death, violence, murder.

satoru gojo

₊˚⊹ ᰔ as soon as your name came out of yaga’s mouth, satoru wasted no time and vanished. he searched every place he knew, every corner and alley, in a matter of seconds. there was no coherent thought in his mind while he teleported. the only thing he could clearly see was you. that you were in danger and that you needed to be saved. that he couldn’t let you die and that he previously had so clearly promised that he’d never let anything happen to either you or him.

a liar, he thought he was. how could he have let this happen? what was the point of being the strongest sorcerer if he couldn’t even protect you. he really did believe nothing could happen to you if he was by your side. he’d murder anyone who’d ever try to harm you without even looking back. this time wouldn’t be any different.

he felt his heartbeat reach his ears when he finally felt you near an ally, back pressed against the wall. a hand on your chest, crimson blood dripping down your shirt. jerky breaths escaping your trembling lips. this curse had taken his sweet time with you. it wanted to feed and you were a tasty dinner. there were marks of struggle on your shredded clothes and bruised wrists.

nothing came out of satoru’s mouth when his eyes landed on you. he just couldn’t believe he had let this happen to you. his expression was stoic. when he slowly approached you the curse immediately felt it. the strongest sorcerer doesn’t let most curses escape from his grasp. but this one.. this one would inevitably suffer the most.

it wasn’t long before the curse felt his body being pushed against the wall in front of you. a yelp was heard when his skull hit the wall head-on. you could hear the bones crack and send shivers through your entire being. that’s when you realized your boyfriend had finally arrived. but when you lifted your head trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes he had already turned all his attention towards the threat.

you had never seen him like this. he was lifeless. his eyebrows were lowered and pulled closer together. you could’ve sworn his eyes bulged. he was enraged. he didn’t even bother to raise his arm towards the curse, he just advanced and slowly- very slowly crushed every little bone in the monster’s body.

you were out of breath but couldn’t shift your gaze from the horrible spectacle in front of you. the wall caved under the pressure as gojo used his infinity to create a space between him and the curse which only crushed it more. it was cruel. cruel but deserving considering the circumstances.

the curse’s body was retracting upon itself with no way out. a loud and piercing cry followed the sound of the wall being crushed under the weight of the infinity. the only thing you found the strength to mumble under your breath was your boyfriend’s name.

after a few seconds, black smoke emanated from the crushed bricked wall with no curses in sight. no remains, nothing. your heavy breath filled the air as satoru finally sighted. you could barely see his eyes when he turned to you, crouching down at your height.

his violence had surprised you, but you were so relieved. tears ran down your cheeks when you tried to speak. you tried to reach for satoru when he crouched but he was quicker and wrapped one arm around your back and another supporting the back of your head. he held you close and it made you feel at home. his scent and touch reassured you when you buried your head in his neck.

still silent, he held you tightly close to his chest. his hand threaded your hair, a slight pressure applied so he could make sure you were okay. you could feel all his anger slowly fade when you returned the gesture with one hand against his chest. your tears slowly fading as you felt the warmth of satoru around your body.

“satoru..”

he shushed you. always pulling you closer and closer to him. he wasn’t going to leave this time. he’d never let you endure something like this ever again.

“i’m right here. you’re safe. lend me your pain, baby. i’ll carry you the rest of the way.” he whispered into your ear, caressing your back so that you’d warm up to his touch. you could feel he was slowly coming back to being the satoru you knew.

you were safe in his arms but guilt still ran deep inside of him. he promised to take you to shoko as soon as possible, resting by your side until you were completely healthy. he also promised himself to assign you with an escort when he couldn’t be here to protect you.

satoru’s only concern was you and he’d never let anything get in the way of your well-being ever again. if he had to show every curse on this earth that he’d destroy them if they ever tried to get near you, he’d have no hesitation in doing so. you were safe. you knew it, now.

kento nanami

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you were the most important person for nanami. his one and only. his love, his soul, his heart. he would’ve resigned in an instant if you hadn’t begged him to keep his job as a sorcerer. but knowing his personal feelings about loss, you knew it’d break him if something came to happen to you. that is precisely why you always acted cautiously, never putting yourself in harm's way and living your life as safely as you could. unfortunately, this time, your efforts had been in vain.

when he saw you, helplessly struggling at the mercy of a first-grade curse wrapped around your throat, all he could think about was how much he regretted not having taken a safer job and bought you that house you both talked about so much on a beach in malaysia.

he knew he needed to act quickly or the curse would finish you off as easily as it had taken you hostage.

you wiggled your feet when it lifted you off the ground, hands desperately scratching and holding onto his grasp so he’d let go of his claws around your throat. you could feel kento’s eyes on you but couldn’t even dare to look at him or do anything else than push against the claws so they wouldn’t crush your neck further.

therefore, you couldn’t see him remove his tie, wrapping it tightly around his knuckles. he knew he couldn’t use a weapon, scared that the curse would use you as a shield. his fists were more precise and his sword wasn’t enough to unleash the rage he had built up inside.

he slowly made his way to the curse but, with every step, its hold crushed you more. you were so scared, almost out of breath with tears rolling down your cheeks. these cheeks kento had kissed so many times to take away your pain. you were hoping he’d do it once more.

once he realized that the threatening stance he was in only alarmed the curse, kento stood down, lowering his curse energy’s flow to an almost invisible state. he made himself look harmless in the face of the monster which slowly but surely helped you to breathe better.

you knew your husband. you had heard it several times from yuji and Ino and you also personally knew that he always handled things the right way. this is was kept you from breaking down and letting go of your almost meaningless fight against the curse’s strength. you had never doubted him and you wouldn’t now. he built his strength with yours. that’s what kento had told you the day he had asked for your hand.

his eyes were locked with your struggling gaze. despite him trying to contain himself, his veins stood out from how tightly he clenched his fists. he would’ve massacred the curse right here and now if it hadn’t cowardly taken you hostage. nanami might have seemed harmless in the moment but his anger was apparent.

without thinking much about it, he threw his sword aside, lifting his hands above to show complete surrender to the curse.

“let her go.”

the furious and deep voice of your husband made you whine, finally hearing a sign from him. unfortunately you could feel that the curse was still hesitating. the clinging of the sword on the ground had startled it which only showed kento how weak it really was. it also showed that it did not want to fight but preferred to flee.

this strange demeanor encouraged kento to step closer, hands still in the air, and that’s when he saw his opening. the curse was looking left and right to find an escape which diminished his attention and loosened his grip around your throat. it lasted just a few seconds but it was enough for you to breathe out his name.

“kento..”

that’s when he drew his fist and used all of his force and cursed energy to deliver a devastating blow right into the curse spirit’s face. it was sent flying several meters away after dropping you so kento could easily catch you and keep you from hitting the ground, arms wrapped around your body.

it only took one hit. one punch to obliterate half of the curse’s body in pieces. the shock had been so violent that your savior’s knuckles bled on your shirt through his yellow tie.

“mine.”

you could feel his heavy breath against your neck when he got on one knee, holding you against him, a hand carefully placed on your cheek. his thumb caressing your skin and whipping the single tear you shed.

“my love..”

kento’s expression had returned to the one you knew. the calm but stoic gaze he wore returned your breath to a normal pace. his arms pulled you always closer to him and he felt his sense come back when your fingers brushed the hand he had placed on your shoulder. you couldn’t talk or you’d burst into tears so you smiled in admiration.

he placed his warm lips upon your forehead and you could feel how scared he had been, maybe even more scared than you. his eyes were stuck on your finger, the one that wore his ring.

losing haibara had crushed his soul to tiny little pieces and you had been the one to delicately put them all back together with your innocent kindness and understanding. he’d be damned if he was to let something happen to the one who saved his heart.

this was the first and last time your life had been threatened, thanks to the careful supervision of kento but also his promise to quit his job and buy that house. he hadn’t realized how much he already had with you and would curse anybody who tried to take his happiness away from him ever again.

suguru geto

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you trusted him. you trusted that, if you were in pain, suguru would find ways to eradicate that pain. you trusted that if you showed any sign of distress, he’d be by your side helping you in any way he could. most importantly, you trusted that he’d protect you no matter the cost and no matter the consequences, because he was devoted to you. if there was something he’d burn the whole world for, it’d be you.

these men, these humans, these pathetic monkeys that had attacked you on your way home never knew what would come for them. you were beaten and almost lifeless when the men started searching for any kind of money or jewelry you had on your person. of course, you had resisted. that’s the only thing you could do, because you were so scared that if you had willingly complied to their demand they would’ve asked for more.

being helpless was scary. you thought it wouldn’t be so scary with suguru by your side, but right now you had never been more terrified. you also knew that your boyfriend would never forgive the men that harmed you, so the only thing you could do was wait. because you did not doubt him. you never doubted him. you knew he’d come for you.

when the men had finished checking your bags and any belongings you had on your person, one approached you, lifting your chin with a vulgar smile. you couldn’t even look at him in the eyes but hit bullseye when you spat directly in his face making him drop you in anger. he cursed under his breath before tightly grabbing you by the collar. a hand in the air so it’d land on your face.

with a weak and desperate groan you turned your face away but was surprised when the slap never landed.

when you reopened your eyes to look at your aggressor, he had his own hands wrapped his throat. it’s like he was struggling to breath, a firm pressure was crushing his neck as he tried to break free from this invisible hold.

when you realized what might be happening you tried to take a peak at the other men who were all struggling with the same problem. scratching and screaming at the invisible menace that were preventing them from breathing.

under the distressed shoutings, a cocky laugh attracted your gaze. when you turned to look at the source, your face lit up at the sight of suguru. but he didn’t look as relieved as you were. his laugh was dark, almost cynical. it was psychotic and displeased.

you had seen him despise simple-minded humans before but killing them was a different story. he wasn’t only taking their lives, he was torturing them. their necks were getting slowly squashed by the curses he had sent on them.

seeing you struggle to breath, helpless at the hand of those who had harmed an innocent girl like you. his girl. it had awaken another kind of hatred in him. a hatred that had been buried deep for so long.

suguru took one good look at you, searching for your eyes but you were incapable of keeping them open. you were just glad your boyfriend had arrived. you knew you were safe when you rested your eyes, a small smile of satisfaction drawn on your lips.

when he concentrated his gaze back on the man that had touched you, he crouched in front of him, getting to his level before taking over the curse and wrapping his hand around the stranger’s neck. tormenting him and taking the air away from him. suguru tightened his grip, his smile fading when he brought the man closer and closer towards death.

“so you think you can just harm her and get away with it?”

the man was hissing swears as small cries of help escaped his bloody lips. his face was swollen and breaking down under suguru’s hold and his watering eyes looked like they would pop out of their socket sooner or later. that’s how tight he held the man.

“pathetic.”

he fed on their cries. helplessly calling out for help, the men only fueled his rage with their insufferable sounds. the sorcerer remembered every time he had felt an ounce of empathy for these beings in the past and regretted every actions he had done to protect them when he saw your wounded state. what they had done was inexcusable and no amount of pain would be enough to atone for it.

after a while, resigned, your offender chocked out a weak apology. but as he did, all the bones in his body instantly broke under another a new kind of pressure coming from yet another curse suguru had unleashed upon him. so now he laid there, between your boyfriend’s compressed clutch. dead.

after a few seconds he dropped the body on the ground like garbage waste and walked to you, passing by the other men that were struggling to breath. he pushed the first one aside with his foot, throwing one on the ground, creating a path for him to walk to you.

“move. i’ve come to take what’s mine.”

on suguru’s command, two snaps followed when the curses broke the other men’s necks before they fell on the floor. three lifeless corpses were now scattered in front of both of you, and as soon as he made sure those stupide monkeys had payed for what they had done, he joined you.

when he leaned towards you, his hand grazed yours, wrapping it with his own in a warm grip. his eyes searched for yours, lifting your chin with his thumb before running it along your jaw, making comforting circles on your cheek.

“are you alright, my love? can you walk?”

suguru’s tone was calmer than before. his eyes never left yours when he wiped one of your tears. his comforting smile reassured you and you nodded at his question, holding onto his wrist when he helped you up, closing the distance between the two of you.

you could hear his calm heartbeat when you leaned against his chest, hiding between his arms and you wondered how he could be so tranquil after killing these men so easily. little did you know the only thing he felt was rage. he knew he was right to despise these inferior beings that had harmed the only important thing that mattered.

he could’ve burned the world for you.

toji fushiguro

₊˚⊹ ᰔ toji fushiguro was an asshole. a first-class asshole. you guys had slept together left and right and he always left first. you had no expectations regarding the man. no doubt that you were replaceable. he didn’t open up much and never talked about his work which didn’t alarm you much considering toji’s character.

basically, emotionally and personally speaking, you two weren’t close. that’s why, when two strangers raided your apartment, screaming fushiguro’s name in anger, you wondered why you had accepted to sleep with a man with a secret and violent past.

your furniture was on the floor and the men had destroyed most of your electronics so you had no way to call for help. one was guarding the door while the other took care of questioning you. it had something to do with a bet and broken promises. of course, money had to be involved, otherwise, why would they be threatening the girl he had slept with once or twice to know of his whereabouts?

tied to a chair, almost unconscious, he had been covering you with bruises and scratches using anything that he could find but you still gave him the same answer. you had no idea where toji was as he never kept contact with you. he was always the one that came to you. and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to come save you anytime soon.

after a while, when the man realized he might not easily get an answer out of you, he reached in his back, pulling out a pistol from the edge of his pants. at the sight of the gun, your heart shattered. that was it for you, you thought. you couldn’t get out of this mess and you would die convinced toji was out there somewhere, probably getting rich and fucking naive girls like you.

you couldn’t even talk anymore, your head was hanging in front of you, blood dripping from your mouth to your thighs. you didn’t know if you’d last long, your vision was blurry and you felt yourself chasing the dark tunnel that clouded your eyesight.

you could hear faint words of command when your chin was lifted with the cold metallic canon of the pistol. the man had your life between his hands. you knew he’d pull the trigger if he eventually realized you couldn’t give him any information he needed. you knew he would kill you. it was so easy and you were pissing him off.

your eyes never left his nervous figure which only frustrated him more and, out of instinct, he slapped you with the handle of the pistol, almost knocking the air out of you. your jaw was broken and tears were flooding your eyes when the blow forced you to look away.

but as he pulled his arm up, preparing for another strike, he seemed to stop in his movement, startled by something behind him. sounds of struggles and a broken door were heard when he shifted his gaze entirely towards the front of your apartment. his accomplice had disappeared which alerted the man and made him call out to him.

several seconds and unanswered calls later, on his guard, the armed stranger decided to go take a look. as soon as he took a step towards the broken piece of wood that was left, a corpse dropped to his feet.

it was the other man, and he seemed to have been brutally murdered from the back, a hole at his heart’s level revealed the level of violence he had endured which left the man panicked and distressed. sweat was covering his forehead when he tried to peak out the door, fingers trembling against the handle and trigger.

unfortunately for him, a tall and broad shadow quickly covered him, before a shot came off. one single gunshot followed by a loud thud.

you could barely make up the identity of the person who had saved you with your weak sight, but his odour was enough for you to distinguish the man clearly. he always smelled the same.

toji was here. he was standing in the doorway, a tight grip around his gun and a grin covering his scarred lips. “can’t believe they send these weaklings to come after me.”

he carefully stepped between the cadavers, examining the poor state of your apartment and their lifeless bodies before his gaze shifted to you. a quick exchange was enough for you to sigh in relief and let yourself relax to an unconscious state.

despite himself, he did feel an ounce of guilt when he took a good look at you. his mistakes had almost gotten you killed. he couldn’t have imagined how he would’ve felt if he had arrived too late. the blood on your face, the broken jaw and the many scars were revealed by the moonlight passing through the door. the cold air misplaced your hair for toji to see tears strolling down your face.

his grin faded as he stood still in front of you and the mess he had made. his grip had loosened around the gun but he slowly moved the canon towards the second man he had killed. without hesitation, he emptied his clip through the culprit’s head, a look of contempt and disgust plastered on his face.

“tsk.. you just had to go and get yourself noticed, hm?” he said, now focused only on you.

thanks to toji, you were safe now. and you had silently thanked him for coming back for you.

carrying you bridal style as you laid there now unconscious but safe in his arms, he placed his thumb against your jaw, tilting your head to get a proper look at you. even now, you were so beautifully calm and your cheeks wore a pink tint, probably because of the cold, which only accentuated your beauty and innocence.

with a sigh, like it weighed on his conscience, toji murmured. “guess someone’s gonna have to take care of you, from now on.”

but the truth was far from what it appeared to be. saving you that night had just brought the man closer to the conclusion that he cherished you more than he thought he did. you weighed on his conscience like a guilty obsession which he could only nourish by spending more time by your side.

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cleo-fox · 1 year ago

Text

Surrender

Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.

No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.

The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.

At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.

He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.

He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.

“Show me your wrist,” he says.

You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.

His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.

It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.

He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.

You do, of course. What other choice do you have?

The next several hours are a blur.

You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?

It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.

You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.

You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.

You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.

They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.

You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.

You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.

You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.

It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.

You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.

“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.

“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.

He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.

“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.

You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.

Or that was your plan, anyway.

Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.

The room is much colder at night.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.

You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.

You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.

But you also have to pee.

You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.

The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.

Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.

Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.

“Come to bed,” Loki says.

You clear your throat. “What?”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”

You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.

You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.

You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.

“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.

“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.

You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”

He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.

You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.

He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.

And after a while, yours does, too.

Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.

It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.

It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.

But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.

But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.

You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.

“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.

God fucking dammit.

You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.

“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.

He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.

“It won’t happen again,” you say.

It does.

This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.

But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.

Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.

The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.

The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.

This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.

You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.

You open a private browser window and pull up Google.

Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.

The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.

You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.

But only nearly and only for now.

The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.

Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.

You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.

Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.

When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.

The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.

The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.

Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.

But not yet. Not yet.

Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.

You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.

You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.

The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.

You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.

“You were calling out in your sleep.”

More heat prickles at your skin.

“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.

“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.

He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”

He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”

You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?

He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky.

“You flatter yourself,” you say.

You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”

Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”

Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.

“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.

“Nothing,” you say.

He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”

You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.

“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.

Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.

“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”

Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.

“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”

You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.

The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.

You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.

You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.

You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.

“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”

You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.

You barely manage a breathy affirmative.

“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”

“Please,” you breathe.

“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”

“Don’t stop,” you say.

“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”

You nod, slack jawed and panting.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”

You whimper, your hips rocking.

“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.

“I need to come,” you moan.

“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”

A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”

His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.

“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.

His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”

You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”

He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”

“Is it working?” you ask.

He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”

You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core.

You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”

Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”

You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he’s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.

“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”

Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”

His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.

“Good girl,” he says.

And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.

You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.

You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.

You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.

The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.

“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.

You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.

So close.

“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”

You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.

Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.

It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.

He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.

“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”

It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.

“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”

He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.

Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.

Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.

He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature.

Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.

You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.

“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.

“Will you show me?” you ask.

“Every day,” he says.

It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.

He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.

You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.

But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.

“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.

Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.

You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.

But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.

Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.

“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”

There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.

“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”

You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.

“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.

In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter.

A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”

You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”

It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.

The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long.

As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.

“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”

“Getting close,” you breathe.

“I know, I can feel you,” he says.

You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.

“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.

It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.

He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss. He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.

“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”

You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”

He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.

“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.

Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.

“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.

You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.

“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”

You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”

Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.

Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.

His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.

You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.

Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.

For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki x yn #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki fanfiction

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fairyrcts · 1 month ago

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matt blurb (smut)

taglist - @pvssychicken , @gothiccvnt6996 , @emely9274

you and your boyfriend, matt, have been together a while. the only sex you'd ever have was soft, slow sex that never really let you have your fun. you always kinda knew deep down that it might've been matt being insecure about his size, even though it was above average, he was new to this and was just getting used to the feeling of you being wrapped around him.

matt thrusted in and out of you at a regular pace, soft moans leaving your mouth occasionally. you never thought he had any kinks due to how vanilla your guys' sex was. "matt, y'so big." the words left your mouth while your eyes were still on his. but that comment seemed to have set something off in him.

"what'd ya say?" his pace began slowing down. "you're so big." you could visibly see matt's jaw tense. his eyes narrowed down before regaining his pace and picking up speed, his cock pounding into you and hitting your g-spot again and again and again.

"yeah? you like this big dick? fuckin' take this cock like a good girl don't you?" matt's breathing got heavier as he slammed into your cunt, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the walls around you two. you hadn't ever recieved this from matt before.

you were such a mess you couldn't even form a coherent sentence. you looked down, finally opening your eyes, and seeing the bulge in you. "fuck, matt!" you came quickly at his new found pace, the knot in your stomach left as your walls collapsed, his name leaving your lips loudly.

matt was quick to follow. he slid out of you, rubbing his dick just once more before releasing all over your tummy. the white substance made a mess quickly on you two and the sheets.

the two of you regained your breath before you let out a breathless chuckle. "wanna tell me what that was?" matt laughed, falling beside you. "let's just say, i needa hear those words more often."

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic fluff #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #size k!nk #blurb #fairyrcts

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pin-k-ink · 2 months ago

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WORTH THE WAIT⋆✦⋆ hinata shoyo

synopsis ➸ back in high school, hinata couldn’t muster the courage to confess to you. but after a few years in brazil, he’s come back ready to get what he wants—and this time, he’s not shy about it

tags ➸ implied mutual pining, male masturbation, dirty talking, nipple play, exhibitionism but nobody sees anything, dry humping, implied virginity loss, unprotected sex, fingering, hair pulling, praise kink, squirting, thigh riding

wc ➸ 7.2k

note ➸ did i do it right @4unnyr0se

Hinata felt his heart stutter the instant his gaze landed on you seated next to Tadashi in the arena stands. An almost overwhelming rush of nostalgia washed over him, dredging up vivid memories of countless stolen glances and flustered interactions with you throughout high school.

Back then, he could barely string a coherent sentence together without feeling flustered if you so much as smiled in his direction. Even hearing your bright laughter echoing through the gym had a way of completely short-circuiting his brain and reducing him to a useless puddle of disaster.

But now? Now Hinata's reaction took an entirely different form as he shamelessly drank in the sight of you. His eyes roamed hungrily over the soft curves accentuated by your outfit, mouth going dry as he committed every detail to searing memory. Just the mere suggestion of those legs currently concealed beneath fabric of your dress made something hot and molten unfurl in the pit of his stomach.

Swallowing hard, Hinata forcibly dragged his gaze upwards before he could descend too far down that particular rabbit hole of temptation. Only to find himself utterly transfixed by the slightly stunned yet undeniably intrigued look shining back at him from your wide eyes.

You didn't look away or shrink beneath his blatant perusal. No, you held his heated stare steadily, lips parting around the faintest of shaky exhales that made Hinata's mouth water hungrily in response.

Of course you would react this way, all confused but undeniably curious about the changes written across his body after so long apart. He couldn't exactly blame you—not when he still had vivid memories seared into his brain of you stretched out in various states of undress during so many of their video calls, completely unaware of just how utterly you drove him to distraction.

Like that one time in Brazil when you'd insisted on catching up immediately after waking up, still soft and rumpled from slumber. He could still picture every tiny yawn and sleep-warm murmur so clearly, chest constricting as your oversized tee dipped lower on one smooth shoulder with each shift, nipples pressed against the thin fabric.

Back then he'd nearly combusted on the spot, reduced to nothing but a stammering mess again as pink patches of heat began trailing hotly up his neck, cheeks burning as his gaze hungrily traced the vee of skin exposed between those fluttering sheets. He'd spent the entire video call fantasizing about sliding past the thin barrier of cotton, allowing his starved hands to roam your sleep-warmed curves in a sizzling glide...

And the entire time, you'd been utterly oblivious to the effect you were having on him with each tiny, intimate gesture. Just blissfully unaware of the lust coiling hot and heavy in Hinata's abdomen as he fought with everything in him not to lose control over the suggestive feast currently parading across his screen.

It was only when you sleepily tugged the collar aside again, breath hitching on a whine of annoyance that exposed even more of that soft, unblemished swell for his hungry gaze, that Hinata finally broke. He'd choked out a strangled excuse about losing signal before fumbling off-screen, your bemused voice echoing through his throbbing skull as he frantically grappled with the painfully hard cock already straining against his sweats.

Even thousands of miles away, you'd had that sort of effortless power over him. An almost cruel ability to drive him to the brink of feverish desperation without even trying, until he burned through his self-control and surrendered to rutting into his own fist with broken moans slipping past his gritted teeth.

And now, here you were again—finally within reach after so long spent being tormented only by memories and his own wandering hands. Hinata's entire body felt like it was burning up from the inside out as he drank you in properly for the first time in ages, utterly powerless before your presence once more.

He needed to get a grip on himself before things spiraled completely out of control here in public. But between the sight of you staring back at him with similarly ravenous interest—as if you could sense the depraved hunger draping over his every thought—Hinata didn't know if he stood a chance in hell.

"Shoyo?" you breathed out at last, sounding just as dazed and stunned as he felt right now. "You...you look so..."

'So different', he could practically hear the unspoken end to your observation hanging in the air. Hinata swallowed thickly, hands flexing compulsively at his sides as if to restrain the part of him aching to reach out and finally get his hands on you at long last.

"Yeah, you could say that," Hinata rumbled out in response, feeling his throat tighten as you continued drinking in his new physique with open appreciation.

Only you didn't seem to realize just how molten your innocent once-over was making his stare in return. The way your gaze trailed over the contours of his arms and chest - mapping every ridge and shift with rapt interest - it was like you were completely oblivious to how your simple perusal alone had heat unfurling in his lower belly already.

"Wow Shoyo, I can't believe how...built you got!" you exclaimed with that same vibrant, sunny enthusiasm he remembered so vividly.

Hinata swallowed hard, forcibly dragging his own lingering stare away from the gentle swell of your breasts straining against your top. He really needed to get a grip before this quickly spiraled out of control. The scorching temptation to crowd into your personal bubble and yank you flush against his body—letting you feel the evidence of his reaction first hand—nearly overwhelmed his strained control.

"Guess all that training down in Brazil really paid off in more ways than one," Tadashi interjected with a pointed look that clearly said 'back off' loud and clear.

Leave it to your brother to play chaperone without even realizing it. Hinata shot him a grateful nod, refocusing on maintaining an outward veneer of friendly casualness even as indecent temptation blazed through his thoughts.

"Yeah for sure, the weather alone was no joke," he managed in response, scratching the back of his neck absently. "Pretty sure half my gains just came from lugging beach equipment around all day in that type of heat."

You giggled at that, leaning forward with your chin resting on one palm as you studied him intently - completely missing the way Hinata's chest expanded on a sharp inhale. This close, he could almost taste the light floral notes of your shampoo intermingling with that intoxicating natural musk he'd fantasized about nuzzling between so many times...

"Well either way, it looks good on you Shoyo," you hummed, causing his stomach to swoop dangerously. "Those poor Brazilian ladies must have been fainting all over the place thanks to these muscles."

You reached out as if to teasingly prod at his bicep, but Hinata aborted the contact at the last second on instinct - afraid of just how incendiary your innocent touch might actually feel after he'd spent countless nights fucking into his fist while imagining those same fingers wrapped around his aching cock already.

"Hah, well you know...gotta practice some restraint now and then," he deflected clumsily, ignoring the look Tadashi shot him at the obvious evasion.

Inside, however, Hinata could already feel himself steadily unraveling just from this relatively tame interaction. The fantasies he'd nurtured and refined over his years in Brazil were swiftly taking on feverish new life thanks to your close proximity and utter obliviousness to them.

How many times during those long, aching nights in his tiny apartment had he imagined wrapping your lush curves around him just like this? Grinding himself against your body with broken groans while chasing after the slick, velvety cunt he'd been cruelly denied for years on end now?

God, you had no idea how desperately he craved the sensation of sinking into your softness until his hips were nestled snugly against your ass, until he could finally bury his face into that sensitive spot on your neck and inhale deeply as your cunt clenched around him so tightly...

"Hinata? You okay there?" Tadashi's knowing look pierced straight through his reverie, instantly dousing Hinata's rapidly spiraling thoughts in a frigid dose of reality.

He blinked rapidly as you waved a hand in front of his face, looking equal parts amused and concerned by his sudden hazy distraction. Right, he really needed to rein this runaway lust in before it became far too obvious to you both—especially while surrounded by crowds like this.

"I'm great, just got a little spaced out there for a second!" Hinata reassured you with what he hoped was a disarming grin. "No need to worry about little old me though. I should probably, um, head back and get changed for the game soon before the coaches come hunting."

Yet even as he tried to take a polite step back, Hinata felt his resolve crumbling beneath your warm, expectant stare again. Before he could retreat entirely, his gaze dipped down to trace the gentle flare of your hips beneath the cinched fabric there. He swallowed hard while envisioning settling his palms against those tantalizing curves, tugging you forward until—

"Right, right of course!" Your bright voice thankfully pierced through his heated trance, finally allowing Hinata some semblance of reprieve. "We'll be cheering loud for you out there, so go get 'em!"

You beamed up at him beautifully, so sweetly unaware of the scorching extent he wanted to make you cheer for him behind closed doors later. Behind the innocent encouragement, however, Hinata detected the faintest flicker of the same fiery tenacity that had first drawn his obsessive attentions years before.

A silent promise that when you inevitably saw through the paper-thin barriers he currently hid behind, you would confront those long-suppressed temptations roaring between your forms with the same headstrong intensity you approached everything else in life.

And God, did the mere implication of having all that vibrant passion channeled solely towards him in the throes of writhing rapture nearly make Hinata's knees buckle completely.

"Y-Yeah," he rasped out with visible effort, fighting to regain some semblance of composure. "I should...I'll see you both after?"

The unspoken yearning dripping from those words hung heavy between your bodies like a tangible Siren's call. You simply nodded reflexively, seemingly unaware of the delirious fantasies blazing behind Hinata's burning stare now. He turned on wobbling legs and forced himself to retreat before losing the battle entirely.

Only once he was safely out of your line of sight did Hinata finally allow one trembling exhale to slip free, entire body quaking with unsated need. He could no longer deny just how badly you unknowingly affected him down to his very core. The years of separation and growth had only stoked those kindling flames into an insatiable furnace crying out for your submission now.

Well, one way or another, Hinata refused to spend another sleepless night tormenting over fevered fantasies that would forever remain a tragic fantasy. Not when the breathtaking reality of peeling you apart with his tongue and reclaiming every sweet inch of untapped paradise waited so deliciously within reach at last.

Now that the game was truly afoot between you both in earnest, he would stop at nothing to stoke your innocent curiosities into an all-consuming firestorm of mutual rapture blazing properly at long, long last.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Hinata's teammates swarmed him in raucous celebration after their hard-fought victory. Bokuto's boisterous voice could be heard bellowing something about a "banger of a post-win rager" while good-natured slaps and jeers echoed off the walls.

Normally, Hinata would have been right in the thick of the chaos - feeding off the infectious energy and hollering along with the best of them. Tonight, however, all that background noise barely even registered past the singular focus currently demanding every iota of his undivided attentions.

Because there you were across the bustling floor, radiant smile shining brighter than the overhead stadium lights as you chatted animatedly with Tadashi. Hinata swallowed hard, unable to tear his molten stare away as you tossed your head back in unbridled laughter at something your twin said - the column of your throat completely on display and begging for the torrid worship of his mouth.

His lashes fluttered momentarily as Hinata allowed himself to fully envision crowding into your space, caging you against his solid frame as you stared up at him in breathless bewilderment. He could practically taste the dizzying cocktail of your floral shampoo and rapidly spiking arousal intermingling as his rough palms ghosted over the feminine flare of your hips possessively.

"Such a good girl for me tonight," Hinata would rumble in a rasping growl that would make you shudder. "Cheering me on so sweetly... you deserve a reward now, don’t you kitten?"

He would dip in close enough for his lips to brush against the feverish pulse in your throat as you swallowed convulsively at his bold suggestion. Hinata could almost feel the delicate shiver wracking your frame as those innocent, expressive eyes darkened with dawning temptation right before he claimed your parted mouth in a searing kiss.

Only the graze of a heavy palm against his shoulder snapped Hinata out of that delirious trance. His head whipped around to find Atsumu crowding into his space with a cocky smirk that immediately put him on edge.

"So hey Sho-kun," the blond purred in a voice like dark silk. "Looks like you already got plans for celebrating that big win judging by how you're eye-fucking Yamaguchi's sister over there."

Hinata tensed, digging deep to remain outwardly unfazed in the face of such blatantly provocative teasing. But a small, traitorous part of him couldn't deny the undercurrent of hot, thrilling validation thrumming through Atsumu's words either.

Someone else had clearly noticed the heated gazes and molten tension sizzling between your forms now. And rather than mock or judge, Atsumu seemed to practically savor Hinata's quiet infatuation in rare approval.

"Not sure what you're on about," he grumbled out gruffly, maintaining a carefully curated mask of nonchalance for appearances. "Pretty sure that's just what people look like when they're happy for their friend's success on the court."

Even as he deflected, Hinata's eyes tracked the graceful sweep of your body as you pivoted on your heel, only to find your bright gaze directed right back towards him now. The universe itself seemed to narrow down to just your smoldering forms alone as every fractured second ground to a halt between each shared inhale.

God, you had no idea just how much you tempted complete madness with those guileless eyes and softly parted lips currently burning into him from across the arena. Hinata felt himself beginning to slowly unspool the longer you held his molten stare hostage effortlessly.

Whether you realized it or not, you were rapidly fueling the fever pitch of his determination to ruin you properly before the night's end stretched on any longer. Years of quietly molded fantasies and memories culminated into this blazing inertia demanding action before it consumed every last rational fiber of his being utterly.

"She's looking this way, right at you man," Atsumu murmured in a honeyed timbre beside him, sounding alarmingly similar to the sinful voice of temptation itself now. "Don't you think it's about time to stop all this creeping around and find out if she really does have the hots for ya?"

Hinata rumbled low in his chest, more sensations than coherent words contained in the resonance vibrating across his tensed shoulders. That flame Atsumu had so accurately identified was rapidly becoming an inferno, stoking his lust higher with every passing second that your twin gazes remained tangled amidst the celebration unfolding without a single care for propriety.

He could practically see the searing outline burned into your guileless depths in that instant - the imprints of what sculpted shoulders and ridges he might unknowingly awaken your first breathless, shameless stirrings over more clearly. And the thought of defiling that remaining innocence forever with unchecked passion was nearly enough to make his restraint snap entirely.

"Shoyo! Get your ass over here already, celebratory shots time!"

Bokuto's booming voice shattered the fevered tension at last as Hinata reluctantly tore his focus away from your magnetic orbit. But not before shooting you one final smoldering look heavy with dark promise.

Beside him, Atsumu chuckled with deeply layered appreciation at the loaded exchange passing between your forms without another word necessary. Hinata responded with a subtle, predatory smirk that clearly conveyed his intent to revel in that unspoken rapport with you unrepentantly moving forward.

"Sounds fun and all, but I've got my eyes on a different kind of celebration at the moment," he murmured with thinly-veiled purpose.

Then, with each rolling step carrying fresh inertia towards your glowing silhouette lingering nearby, Hinata allowed the last crumbling shreds of hesitation to dissolve into anticipatory heat. His cock was already achingly stiff against the unforgiving fabric of his shorts by the time he reached your side - so utterly enthralled by your presence it bordered on rapturous fever.

Outwardly, he maintained a careful veneer of casual nonchalance even as his ember irises scorched over every tempting contour presently filling his peripherals. Up close once more, Hinata could smell the crisp, clean tang of citrus and jasmine radiating off your warm skin - a heady, intoxicating cocktail of purity and hidden feminine heat that made his palms itch with the overwhelming need to touch you.

"Hey sis, you about ready to—?" Tadashi started, only to freeze at the abrupt weight of Hinata's relentless stare pinning him in place.

To his endless credit, your twin didn't immediately bristle or snap into defensive mode despite certainly sensing the banked fires raging beneath Hinata's stoic mask at that moment. No, Tadashi simply studied him for several prolonged heartbeats with uncanny calculation filtering behind his eyes. Then, drawing himself upright, he cleared his throat and fixed Hinata with a long, weighted look.

"Well, I'll just leave you two to catch up then," he murmured with pointed emphasis, bestowing his trust onto Hinata's shoulders with that single declaration of space.

Hinata appreciated the courtesy and read between the lines readily. Tadashi might suspect his real motives were not nearly so benign any longer, but was withholding final judgment one way or another based on how Hinata chose to conduct himself next.

With a subtle nod of acknowledgment, Hinata turned the full force of his focus back to where you remained innocently oblivious to the battle of wills flickering between both men. God, the lack of guile currently shining in your beaming features sent fresh lances of protective fervency singing through his veins amidst the hunger.

"You were amazing out there tonight, Shoyo," you praised without reservation, smile stretching radiant and warm in a way that left him breathless all over again. "That cross-spike in the third set was seriously amazing!"

"Thanks, I worked really hard on perfecting that setup," Hinata rumbled out in a voice gone to velvet gravel that made your pupils blow fractionally wider despite your naive enthusiasm.

He drank in the subtle shiver that wracked your frame, satisfaction curling hot in his gut. Clearly while years of fantasizing had in no way prepared Hinata for reintroducing the untempered rasp of blatant desire into your dynamic, it had the intended effect all the same.

Unable to resist further, he took a prowling step into your orbit - delighting in the way your breath hitched when his solid chest brushed yours. His callused fingers itched to splay over the bare skin of your waist, desperate to feel the rapid fluttering of your pulse against his rough palms properly.

"Although I have to admit..." Hinata continued, trailing off to allow his heated amber stare to rove over you in an indolent sweep. "What really pushed me through those grueling sets tonight was the thought of having you splayed out on my bedsheets later, kitten..."

The blatant crudity of his words had your jaw dropping in a wordless 'o' of shock, though Hinata couldn't help but savor the glazed glimmer of temptation momentarily unfurling behind your innocent irises. He craved to chase that forbidden spark until it transformed into an inferno of shameless yearning matching his own finally.

"Wh—Shoyo!" you stammered out breathlessly, shrinking back instinctively as heat rushed to stain your cheeks in a delicious blush. "Where is all this even coming from all of a sudden?"

He flashed you that crooked, predatory smirk you'd never seen grace his features previously - the one that promised each unholy revelation to come was but a mere crumb trailing toward the true raptures he planned to show you soon enough. Hinata braced one broad forearm against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you into his solid frame as his mouth ghosted dangerously close enough to sow the first seeds of sweet ruin onto your parted lips.

"Don't act so scandalized, princess," the rumbling growl thrummed between your shared breaths in a seductive caress. "You and I both know you've been perched on that razor's edge of temptation every time your pretty eyes roved over my body earlier too...imagining how different things finally feel compared to everything fading memory lets you fantasize over at night alone, hmm?"

You shuddered bodily at the deliciously lurid insinuation, the mere suggestion of such forbidden knowledge rendering you momentarily mute despite his blunt provocations. Hinata savored each stunned flutter of those long lashes adoringly, already anticipating the euphoric gasps and mewls he'd soon elicit from that sweet mouth as he thoroughly unraveled your remaining innocence inch by molten inch.

"Shoyo..." you tried to interject, though the plea emerged strained and hoarse - undercut by the delirious curl of desire already blossoming between your thighs from his mere proximity alone.

"Shhh...it's okay," he hushed in a low purr that vibrated through your entire frame. "I've got you now, kitten...no more dancing around everything this fire between us has been simmering towards since the very beginning."

Hinata punctuated the declaration by nuzzling his sharp nose along the sensitive column of your throat, inhaling your floral musk like the sweetest opiate as he blazed a path towards the hollow of your ear with languid, open-mouthed worship.

"Don't worry, baby...you'll be whimpering out every filthy little fantasy you've been too ashamed to indulge properly soon enough," he rasped in dark promise against your shuddering form. "I'll ruin you in the most obscene and delicious ways imaginable until you come apart completely from my cock—"

"Shoyo!"

Your sharp cry finally snapped him out of that feverish spiral, though Hinata refused to withdraw from the intimate sprawl of your twined bodies entirely yet. Not when your pupils had already blown wide through the exquisite conflict of self-consciousness and kindling arousal set aflame between your forms at long last.

He studied you carefully for several heartbeats, relishing the sight of your chest flushing a rosy hue. You looked utterly debauched despite his relatively tame provocations so far—almost as though faint impressions of your sordid imaginings were already searing themselves across your lovely canvas for him to marvel over properly.

"Sorry, got a little carried away there, I guess," he breathed out in a gravelly rumble that had you quivering anew. "You just have no idea what it does to me seeing you so sweet and unraveled like this for once."

When you didn't immediately respond beyond a shaky inhale, Hinata pressed forward—quite literally, as he angled your conjoined bodies into an even more intimate press that trapped his rapidly swelling cock between your trembling thighs in delicious promise.

"You want to know exactly where all this is coming from, baby girl?" he husked out in a velvety baritone ghosting between your quivering lips once more. "Well, why don't you come back to my place and let me show you in the ways I've been dreaming about you for years now?"

He punctuated the depraved offer with a slow, sinuous roll of his hips that made your eyes flutter and breath hitch with unbridled shock.

"O-Oh! I, um..." You stammered breathlessly, those soulful eyes darting between his heated stare and the insistent ridge grinding up against your clothed heat. "Well your place...that sounds fun, I guess! I'd love to hear more about the game from you, you know—"

Fuck, your endearing obliviousness almost made him groan in helpless rapture right then and there. Perhaps the written invitation had been far too subtle for your innocent sensibilities to pick up on properly. This called for a more forceful approach...one that would leave no uncertainty regarding his deliciously heated intentions after you were behind closed doors together finally.

So in one fluid surge of masculine aggression, Hinata allowed his dominant arm to snake around your waist fully, hoisting you up and flush against his rock-solid frame without warning. He swallowed your adorable gasp of surprise with a molten growl, relishing the way your palms splayed out across his chest reflexively as you instinctively anchored your slight form to his much larger one.

"I'm going to fuck you senseless tonight, kitten," he grated out in low, feral promise against your parted lips, already pivoting to make for the nearest exit. "Going to make you come apart for me over and over until this sweet little body of yours knows it belongs to nobody else but me from now until eternity..."

You whimpered beautifully at that crass vow, writhing unconsciously as his free hand palmed the generous curve of your asscheek in rough possession. Hinata felt his cock throb maddeningly in response, lust blazing white-hot as fantasy after fantasy spiraled closer to searing reality at long, aching last.

"Don't try fighting this anymore," he commanded in a molten rasp dripping temptation with each vowel. "I've only just begun to show you the true depths of my depravity...but if you're a good little girl, I'll give you everything you ever fantasized about and more before the sun rises tomorrow, baby..."

With that husked benediction still shivering through your very marrow, Hinata carried you both towards sweet, ruinous rapture awaiting in the distance without another flickering shred of restraint left to tame the inferno blazing between your tangled spirits at last.

You would be his utterly - shattered, debauched, reborn amidst the ashes of your innocence tonight and any nights beyond left to come afterwards. And Hinata already knew he would revel in every shattering, breathless unraveling until the boundaries separating your forms simply ceased to exist at all in the wake of such profound, profane communion.

As soon as Hinata opened the door to his apartment, you immediately brushed past him—drawn towards the stunning floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the far wall with stars in your eyes. He was instantly hypnotized by the sway of your hips and couldn't tear his heated gaze away. He watched hungrily as you pressed against the glass, enamored by the glittering cityscape before you.

"Pretty cool view, right?" he rumbled, slowly prowling up behind your petite frame. You startled when his chest pressed against your back, instantly surrounding you in his heady masculine presence.

"Y-Yeah, it's incredible," you stammered, heart fluttering against your ribcage. "You can see everything from up here."

"Can you now?" Hinata's voice dropped an octave, that suggestive lilt making you shiver. His calloused palms skated up your bare arms unhurriedly as he leaned down, hot breath fanning over the sensitive shell of your ear. "And just what exactly did you have in mind for enjoying those...premium sights, baby?"

You bit your lip to stifle a whimper as his nose trailed along your neck - undoubtedly scenting the arousal already trickling through your veins despite your best efforts. Hinata chuckled lowly when you failed to respond beyond shaky exhales.

"Don't get all shy on me now," he crooned, warm lips brushing your pulse point. "Pretty sure I've earned the right to be a little curious after spending years dreaming about having you just like this..."

Your breath hitched as Hinata's palms smoothed over your abdomen to splay possessively across your lower belly, fingertips grazing the waistband of your skirt in clear suggestion. He rutted his hips against the swell of your ass - allowing you to feel every thick inch of his cock grinding against you insistently.

"Well?" He prompted in that same velvet-rough timbre, clearly expecting a response this time. "How about giving me a preview of exactly what's gonna make you squirm and whimper when I finally get this cute little skirt off you, hmm?"

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry as the reality of Hinata's scorching attentions crashed over you in waves. His words were every bit as crude and demanding as the heated length now nudging against you with an undercurrent of commanding virility.

"I...I don't know what you—"

Hinata's hands squeezed your hips sharply, cutting off your rebuttal with a growl of displeasure that sent a frisson of need zinging straight to your core on instinct.

"None of that, kitten," he rumbled in rebuke against your hairline, strong arms like steel bands bracketing you into place. "You don't get to play innocent anymore - not when you've been teasing me without even realizing it for years now."

One of those large palms trailed upwards to palm your breast with gratifying possession, fingers toying with your pebbled nipple through the thin fabric in a way that made you gasp.

"That's it...just like that," Hinata groaned, sounding enraptured by your stunned vocalization. "God, you have no idea how bad I wanna hear you let it all out without holding back tonight. Been saving up those gorgeous little noises for me all along, haven't you, baby?"

Emboldened by your trembling silence and wide-eyed awe, Hinata spun you around to face him abruptly - pinning you against the cool glass with one of his thick thighs wedged between yours. The predatory intensity in his hooded stare left you dizzy as he caged you in with his powerful frame.

"Come on, princess...don't be shy," he murmured while rolling his hips in tantalizing emphasis, grinding his length against your abdomen in simmering promise. "Tell me exactly where you want me to start worshipping that sweet body with my hands and mouth first..."

He punctuated the lewd offer with a slow, sensual lap of his tongue along the column of your throat that had you gasping and bucking against him reflexively. You'd never seen this side of him before - this unabashed, dominant side that exuded a magnetic forcefield of pure, carnal energy.

"Sh-Shoyo," you pleaded in a breathy voice you barely recognized. "This is so embarrassing, I...I mean we've never even kissed and you're talking about—"

Your words died in a strangled moan as Hinata's mouth crashed into yours - devouring you in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that seared with unchecked hunger. His lips moved against yours insistently, coaxing your own into a messy tango of lips, tongues, and teeth as his hands skated down to grasp the back of your thighs, hiking you up onto his hips as though you weighed nothing.

"Mmph, fuck," he panted raggedly right before he latched onto your bottom lip with a lewd suck that left you both groaning. "Tastes so fucking good - I could spend the rest of my life kissing you like this and never get enough..."

The admission sent a delirious thrill of arousal coursing through you, leaving your skin tingling and blood humming with molten desire. Without thinking, you looped your arms around his broad shoulders to anchor yourself closer, grinding down on the thick erection jutting up against you shamelessly.

Hinata groaned against your mouth, rutting into the sweet friction your bodies were creating. You could feel how wet you were through the thin fabric of your panties, and judging from the way he was grinding against you like a man possessed, so did he.

"Fucking hell, kitten...you really want me to take you like this, don't you?" he husked, voice raw with lust. "Get rid of these fucking clothes and just fuck you right up against the window for the entire world to see how fucking needy you are for me?"

His filthy words left you panting and mewling, desperately clinging to him as he continued his ruthless assault on your senses. You didn't even care about the potential repercussions of being so exposed right now. All that mattered was the heat, the pleasure, and the way Shoyo was looking at you as though he wanted to eat you alive.

"I'm gonna give it to you just like that, baby...so good, so fucking deep and hard," Hinata growled, nipping at your neck with a hint of teeth. "Gonna show you what it feels like to get fucked within an inch of your life by the only man who'll ever get to see you come apart like this..."

His fingers were digging into your ass cheeks now, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he ground his cock against your dripping core. You were practically writhing against him, desperate for release but too lost in the moment to think about anything other than chasing the delicious friction between your bodies.

"Shoyo, please," you gasped, arching your back and grinding down harder against his thigh. You were so close, you could feel the pressure building, your body trembling with anticipation. "Please, I'm so close..."

Hinata's hand slipped between your legs, pressing against your throbbing clit through the thin fabric of your panties. His fingers rubbed slow, firm circles as his cock continued to grind against your thigh, and within seconds, you were teetering on the edge.

His forehead pressed against yours as he stared into your eyes, his expression a mixture of intense arousal and affection. "Let go, baby. I wanna see you come for me," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep inside you.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, washing over you in a white-hot rush of pleasure. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth open in a silent cry as the sensation consumed you. You felt Hinata's lips press against yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as your body trembled and shuddered in his arms.

When you finally came down from your high, Hinata's arms were wrapped around you, holding you close and stroking your back. "That was so fucking hot, baby," he murmured, kissing your temple. "You don’t know how badly I wanted to touch you like that for so long now..."

Your face flushed as the realization of what just happened hit you. You'd never experienced anything like that before - so raw and primal, but also tender and intimate. "It was...I've never..." you stammered, too embarrassed to put your thoughts into words.

If possible, you watched as Hinata's eyes darken even further with lust, his grip on you tightening possessively. "Never?" he repeated, his voice low and rough as he began to nuzzle and kiss your neck. "Fuck, kitten...you mean nobody has ever touched you like that before?"

You shook your head, biting your lip as you avoided his heated gaze. But Hinata was having none of that, his hands gripping your jaw gently but firmly as he forced you to look at him. "Don't hide from me, princess," he murmured, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. "I wanna hear you say it. Say that I'm the first man to make you feel like this..."

You felt your body responding to his words, the desire coursing through your veins again, stronger than before. "Y-Yes," you whispered, unable to resist the urge to grind against him. "Only you, Shoyo."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body as he guided you back towards the window once more. You could feel his cock straining against his pants, pressing against your belly, and a small part of you was almost afraid of how big he felt.

But there was no turning back now - not when Hinata was growling and rutting against you like a wild animal, his hands already tearing at your clothes. You didn't protest, too caught up in the moment to think about anything other than getting him naked as quickly as possible.

Your skirt and top were tossed carelessly aside, followed by your bra and panties. You stood naked before him, a flush creeping up your neck and spreading across your chest as his hungry eyes roamed over your body. You felt your nipples harden, whether it was from the sheer intensity of his gaze or the cool glass behind you, you couldn't tell.

Hinata was breathing heavily now, his pupils blown wide as he drank in the sight of you. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you gasp and arch into his touch. "So pretty," he murmured, leaning in to kiss the valley between your breasts. "And all mine..."

Your head fell back against the glass as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. You were already aching for him, desperate to feel him inside you. Your hands found his hair, threading through the soft strands as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hand sneaking down to slide between your thighs.

You gasped as his fingers parted your slick folds, circling your entrance teasingly. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he eased one finger inside, making you moan softly. He set a steady pace, working you open slowly, his mouth still sucking and nibbling at your nipples.

"More," you whimpered, rolling your hips in time with his movements. "Please, Shoyo...I need more..."

He chuckled softly, adding another finger and pumping them faster. You could feel the heat building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter as his thumb rubbed against your clit. You were panting and writhing against him now, completely lost in the sensation.

Hinata pulled back suddenly, leaving you feeling empty and needy. But before you could protest, he was tugging his shirt off, tossing it to the side and then shoving his pants down. You sucked in a breath as his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip absolutely glistening with precum.

His eyes met yours, dark and full of lust. "Turn around and bend over for me, baby," he growled, his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I wanna fuck you from behind - wanna see your pretty little ass bounce as I pound into you."

You did as he asked, bracing yourself against the window as he pressed his cock against your entrance, rubbing the tip up and down your slit. You were already so wet, you could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. Hinata gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto his cock, hissing as the chubby tip slipped inside.

"Ah f-fuck," he grunted, hissing as your walls clenched around him, struggling to adjust to his size. "Taking me so well, baby..."

You moaned, trying to relax and let him sink deeper. You could feel every inch of him stretching and filling you, the burning stretch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Hinata bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, and the sensation was indescribable.

Your elbows buckled and you dropped forward, cheek pressing against the cool glass as Hinata began to fuck you, slow and deep, each stroke driving him deeper. You could hear his labored breathing, feel his hands tightening on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he picked up the pace.

One of his hands slid up your spine before grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging back. "Fuck, look at you," he growled, his voice ragged with pleasure. "So fucking perfect, taking my cock so well...just like I knew you would, kitten."

The praise only heightened the pleasure coursing through you. You could feel your second orgasm building, and Hinata's relentless pounding wasn't helping. You were a moaning, panting mess, the window fogged with your breath, his fingers tangled in your hair and your breasts pressed flush against the glass.

"You think anyone can see us from down there, baby?" Hinata's voice was pure sin as he continued to thrust into you. "How does it feel knowing anyone who looks up can see just how fucking needy and desperate you are for me?"

The thought should have made you nervous, but all you could focus on was the pleasure, the way his cock was stretching and filling you so perfectly. You were practically drooling at the thought of him claiming you like this - right here, where anyone could see.

"Yes, yes, please, don't stop," you moaned, the pressure building higher and higher until you felt like you were going to explode. "Shoyo, I'm so close...please make me cum, please..."

Hinata's hips began to piston even faster, his cock slamming into you so hard you were sure there would be bruises later. He was grunting and growling, his grip on your hair almost painful as he pounded into you, his cock hitting all the right places. You could feel your climax approaching, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your walls clenching around him as he chased his own release.

"That's it, baby...come for me," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "Cum all over my cock, I wanna feel it..."

And just like that, you were tumbling over the edge, crying out as the pleasure washed over you. Your body shook and trembled, your walls fluttering and squeezing around him as you all but squirted, coating his cock in a flood of wetness. Hinata fucked you through your orgasm, his pace unrelenting, the slick sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.

"F-fuck, kitten," he growled, his hips snapping against you, his cock hitting so deep it made you whimper. "I'm gonna cum, gonna fill you up...fuck!"

You could feel him twitching inside you, his movements becoming erratic and then suddenly he was burying himself deep, his cock pulsing as he came, painting your walls with hot spurts of his cum. He collapsed against you, his weight pushing you harder against the window, his breath hot against your neck.

For a few minutes, all you could do was catch your breath, your bodies still joined. But then you felt his large palms smooth over the underside of your knees, lifting them up and hooking them over his forearms, effectively trapping you between his body and the glass.

"Wait, what are you—oh my God," you moaned loudly, feeling his cock harden and swell inside you almost instantly. "Sh-Shoyo, w-wait a sec, I—"

"Can't," he interrupted in a guttural snarl, grinding his hips into yours as he began to slowly fuck his cum deeper inside you. "Need another, kitten. Need to feel you come on my cock one more time before we get cleaned up."

"O-one more??" you choked out, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. You were exhausted and still a little dazed, but the way he was thrusting into you was quickly reigniting the fire within your core.

"Mhmm," he hummed, nuzzling and kissing the crook of your neck and shoulder. "Just one more...then I'll stop."

It was a lie and you both knew it.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #hinata shoyo smut #hinata x reader smut #hinata shoyo #hinata smut #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyuo #hinata x reader #hinata shouyou #shoyo x reader smut #shoyo smut #shoyo x reader

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slttygeto · 1 year ago

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MORNING LOVE — GOJO SATORU

content warning: pwp, pussy whipped gojo is my favorite gojo, sex in the kitchen, very light spanking, dirty talk, hint of cnc.

word count: 0,6k

note: this is a follow up to this piece right here. i hope you enjoy it :)!

if there was anything you learned from dating satoru, it was the fact that he was all about touching you. whether it be a hand resting on your thigh, or his lips pressed to your cheek as he drills into you from behind--the man couldn’t get enough of you.

you tried to stop him, tried your best to tell him to wait at least until you were done with breakfast before touching you. but the man was on a mission the moment he saw you dancing in his shirt in the kitchen. and you dare ask him to wait?

“toru--the pancakes,” you cry out the last part, his big hand reaching over to fondle with your boobs. he was incredibly touchy, always all over you like you could escape at any moment (you obviously couldn’t with his massive weight on top of you).

you feel a little guilty to be doing this in the kitchen and over your counter, but his cock was drilling into you so well. you didn’t know why you were so sensitive this morning, perhaps you were ovulating and so your body felt like putty the moment satoru put his hands on you.

he didn’t even bother taking off your shirt, simply pushed it up and let out a ‘fuck’ at the sight of your ass. this made you push back on him, whining when he delivered a harsh smack to the skin.

“later baby--fuck, I promise.” he was out of breath, hands roughly grabbing your hips to keep you in place. he loved having this much control over you, to see you trying to run away from his cock. only for him to hold you in place and force you to take it, force delicious sounds out of your throat.

he grins lazily when you try to look back at him and your eyes are glossed over, lips parted and face contorted in pleasure. you look like you’re trying to say something, but the pleasure consuming you wiped every coherent thought out of your head.

“oh baby, you’re so pretty,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the back of your ear, chuckling when your breath stuttered. you were always so weak, so easily breakable when he had his dick inside of you.

“oh god--satoru!” you cry out when his hand travels down, rubbing at your clit all while his other hand lets go of your hip to press on your stomach. his pace is unforgiving, a string of curses leaves his mouth when he feels you clenching around him as you approach your orgasm.

“that’s it baby, come on, come on,” he hisses out, his chin resting on your shoulder to peek at your face. he especially loved how fucked out you looked when you coated his dick with your juices.

“that’s right, give it to me. all of it, I can take it. take all what your pussy gives me--shiit, you feel so good,” it’s his turn to whine, his forehead resting on your shoulder when you finally reach your orgasm. your pussy felt like heaven, it was a miracle that he held in for so long.

his orgasm washes over him soon after yours, and you’re both left a heaving mess. satoru refuses to pull out even when you whine at him to do so, only presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder and hums.

“if I pull out, it will be a mess,”

“then what should we do?”

“the paper towels are right there, lemme grab some.”

“...you’re unbelievable.”

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

#moon's works #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen headers #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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chaptersleftunwritten · 3 months ago

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Pen Ink & Motor Oil

Blurb: Eddie has worked as a mechanic in Tucker’s busy garage for the past three and a half years and you have recently joined as the cute receptionist at the front desk. Based on this nonnie’s request!

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie x Receptionist!Reader

Warnings: Eddie is in his late 20’s, reader is in her early 20’s, swearing, pet names, smoking (cigarettes) , reader referred to as girl, Eddie has a filthy mouth and the reader likes it. Sexual tension, dom!Eddie, sloppy kisses, fingering, choking, public intimacy, 18+

“Would you like a cup of tea? Maybe some coffee?” Your hands rub together furiously, hoping the friction will heat the delicate surface of your skin. This morning played out like it always did between you and Eddie— you would advert your eyes away from his intense gaze and he would toy with the colour on your cheeks like a puppeteer.

“I’ll take a bottle of Pepsi if there’s one in the fridge? Please.” You couldn’t understand his willingness to drink such icy cold liquid when the mornings were already becoming so chilly. Especially in the garage, the freezing cement of the floor and the bare brick of the walls made heat easily escapable.

“You’re crazy,” Laughing you reach down into the small refrigerator behind your desk, plucking out a glass bottle filled with the sugary brown beverage and handing it to Eddie. He lets out what can only be described as a moan as he eyes the bottle in his hand with such admiration, his strong fingers twisting off the bottle cap with ease.

“Thanks, Cutie.” The metal head winks at you, his words leave his mouth with such charisma and fluidity that it makes your tired head buzz with excitement.

After a moment of ridiculous pause you finally clock back into reality, “That’s a cool party trick,” gesturing toward the bottle in Eddie’s manly hands he offers you a hum, smiling politely at you like he always does, “Doesn’t it hurt your hand?”

“Not really— I bet you could do it, if you tried.” He shrugs, his gigantic hand comes to clasp one of his breasts through the tarnished white fabric of his tank top, something you have recently realised he does a lot out of comfort and you can’t help the twitch of your fingertips as you long for the warmth of his soft inked skin against yours.

“Is there a lot booked in for today?” He leaves the bottle on the worktop, his creased boots scrape against the dusty floor as he inches toward your standing frame confidently. He peers over your shoulder, his strong nose is almost tickling the shell of your ear as he tries to read the schedule you had written up the shift before and your breath becomes trapped in the length of your throat at his close proximity.

Your thoughts are a scrambled mess as your nostrils fill with the brunettes intoxicating scent; subtle laundry detergent that smells like winter and clean linen, a fresh, almost minty, shampoo that radiates from his soft hair as it brushes your cheek and the smallest hint of cigarette smoke.

In your daze you blindly hadn’t acknowledged the fact that Eddie was basically bending you over the front desk. Your elbows were propped on the hard acrylic material, your ass perked up into the air and Eddie’s hulking frame was braced over you from behind, “Uhm…” You scream inwardly at yourself and your inability to form any sort of coherent sentence and thought.

“Uhm?” Eddie mocks, his voice deep and hushed. He lets out a small throaty laugh as his fingers dance over the neatly written page laid on the counter in front of you, “Can’t you read your own handwriting, Love?” Another sweet nickname that causes your legs to weaken.

He taps his fingertip on to the column that reads ‘Monday’ at the top of the grid and you can feel his wide grin against the back of your head, “Plenty of time for fun today.” Eddie purrs like a cat in your ear and your body involuntarily shivers at his breath against your neck.

“I’ll come check up on you in an hour or so, yeah? I think the first customer of the day will be arriving soon and I don’t wanna fuck this up.” It takes Eddie every ounce of self control he has to collar himself and retreat to the back of the garage where he can try and meet his deadline for the day. But in complete honesty, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

His chocolate button eyes constantly flicking from the internal organs of a car to the swinging door that separates you from him. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he had developed quite a fondness for you— a little crush, perhaps. You were the nicest girl Tucker had ever hired; above qualified and the most beautiful. You might’ve been the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Gorgeous smile, kind eyes and not to mention a smokin’ bod. You always had this incomparable aroma lingering around you— a perfume he had never smelt before. It was addicting. You were addicting.

Two hours had passed now and Eddie was getting restless. He had already repaired what was needed to the engine and the customer was scheduled to be here any second— he just wanted to chat with you again, to make you laugh and see your skin flush with each of his not-so-discreet compliments. He loved spending time with you. You were the reason he looked forward to coming into work each day.

“Hey, Eddie?” Your gentle voice sings through the room as you poke your head through the door into his space and Eddie bounces to his feet a little too eagerly, his hands toying with an old oil covered rag.

“Yeah? You okay?” His body is reacting before his brain can protest and he is springing over to meet you by the door like an excited puppy. A smile grows on his face with every step closer he gets to you and he watches you shift in your shiny heels with anticipation.

“I’m okay!” You confirm, the palm of your hand resting on the large door which allows a gust of fresh hair to meet Eddie’s now dirtied up face, “The customer is here to check out their car— would you like to come and speak with them before they sign anything?”

“Should be all good to go, Princess.” Eddie winks at you and his heart flutters boldly at the sight of your rosy cheeks. He could never get enough of you— he could stare at you forever, “Hey, after this guy leaves… you wanna come and grab some lunch with me? I usually go to this little place down the street. They have pretty decent sandwiches and stuff.” His hands come to find his hair as he ties it up into a low bun and a sly smirk finds his lips as he watches you watching him, “It’ll be my treat?” Clocking your silence he presses you further for an answer and you nod your head like a startled deer, your lips slightly pouted and parted in embarrassment.

“I would like that!” You squeak, your hands fumbling with your white dress shirt as you try to flatten out the new wrinkles, “So… I’ll go and ring this guy up. And… and I’ll meet you out front?” You gulp loudly, wincing at the sheer volume of it and Eddie grins at you evidently amused.

“Sounds great. Just gotta scrub my hands and I’ll see you out there, Pretty girl.”

Eddie watches as you disappear from his view, he even strains his neck to try and catch a final glimpse of your ass as he desperately fights to calm his raging heart.

He feels all giddy on the inside. Soft and gooey like a chocolate brownie; only you have been able to make him feel that way. Eddie had a few notches in his belt, he slept his way through high school with chicks who kept him a secret but you… you knew you would flaunt him like he was a rare jewel. The last 7 months of your employment made you realise how drawn you were to the metal head. Eddie was precious to you.

And today… today you were going to tell him.

You skip alongside Eddie, your heels dragging along the pavement. You always wanted to look presentable and professional for the business, but these heels were killing your feet.

“You alright there, Love?” Eddie chuckles, his eyes flicking between your arched feet and your pain stricken face.

“Hmm? Oh! Yeah— I’m fine! These shoes are just kicking my ass.” You stop for a moment, sighing a quick breath of relief as the pressure eases from your feet and Eddie comes to stand in front of you. His lips curve upward into a grin and his eyes glitch with mischief.

“I can carry you? And you can take the shoes off?” You watch the muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his meaty chest and your jaw loosens on its hinges for a moment.

He wanted to carry you?

“Don’t be silly! I can muscle through this! Women have been doing this for centuries.” You snort a laugh, attempting to walk by his massive physique but Eddie’s large hand takes a hold of yours and in one swift and fluid like motion he is carrying you in his arms toward the small sandwich shop that is just out of view at the end of the street.

“Eddie!” You squeal, half laughing and half horrified. Your cheeks are set alight as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck tightly, clutching onto him for dear life out of fear of falling.

“Relax, I’m not gonna drop you.” You had never been this close to him before. You could see every freckle on his nose, every stroke of black oil and grease on his cheeks, every sprinkle and burst of light amber in his usually abysmal black eyes. The thickness of his eyelashes and his eyebrows and the pink plumpness of his lips.

You could study him for hours. You could hang a portrait of him in an art gallery— and yet it would pale in comparison to the true thing. Eddie Munson was crafted carefully by Aphrodite herself. He was utter perfection. And you wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Like what you see, Princess?” He smirks at you devilishly, his dark hues shift every few seconds between your gawking expression and the footpath ahead.

“What if I did?” Bold. Even for you, and it was amusing to watch Eddie’s confident mask fumble.

“Then I would have to agree that I also like what I see…” He stops walking, his eyes solely focused on you now and you shift under his gaze— wiggling in Eddie’s buff arms.

“You do?” You can’t help that his confession catches you off guard. You knew Eddie enjoyed your presence, it was evident in the way he would always make excuses to come through to the front and talk to you. Eddie never usually had cause to be at the front desk unless it was to hand a customer their car keys back— but he always found a way to weasel his way through.

‘Have you got a pen I can borrow?’ There was always one tucked behind his ear.

‘Did I leave any tools through here? I’m missing my screwdriver…’ He had plenty to spare.

‘Do you need any help with anything?’ He was hopeless when it came to schedules.

‘Hey, is there any cold ones in the fridge today?’ He knew there was.

‘You got the time, Sweet girl?’ He wore a watch of his own.

He knew how to make you smile and he did it continuously every single day with his perky can-do attitude and his admirable personality. Eddie Munson checked all of your boyfriend boxes. He’s good with his hands, not afraid to get down and dirty, he is scarily strong and stupidly handsome. If it weren’t deemed inappropriate you would worship the ground his work boots walked on.

“Don’t act so surprised— I haven’t been so discreet with what I think of you, Sweetheart.” He was right, but you also couldn’t fully believe him. Eddie Munson thought you were attractive? It made you wanna laugh.

“Y’know… I’m not feeling too hungry anymore,” There’s a glint of desire that shimmers in Eddie’s dark eyes and you match his lustful enthusiasm, “What’d ya say we head back? I wanna… show you something…”

And by ‘show you something’ he meant that he wanted you to see the back of your skull as your eyes roll from the feeling of him pumping inside of you.

“Let’s go… let’s go now!” You don’t care how desperate you sound as Eddie turns on his heels and flees back toward Tucker’s. You are a giggling mess in Eddie’s arms and he chuckles warmly alongside you. You both have at least 10 minutes left of your lunch break as you burst back into the office and the next customer is due soon so this will have to be somewhat quick…

You wish you could pinch yourself to ensure you weren’t dreaming but your hands were too busy snaking through the thick fluffy curls of Eddie’s hair. It doesn’t take much effort for his wet tongue to dominate yours in a passionate and needy kiss.

His strong fingertips grip the soft flesh of your hips and his hands are like a powerful vice as he clings to you hungrily, “Can I touch you?” He asks between laboured breaths and you nod with a sweet hum. You can feel the swell of his cock pressing against you and you couldn’t think of anything you want more than to have his hands roaming your body.

“Fuck— you’re so fucking beautiful.” His thumb traces the line of your jaw, settling on your chin where he demands that your eyes meet his, “Wanna fuck you so bad, but I don’t think we have time today, Sweet girl.”

You pout out your bottom lip and Eddie chuckles darkly at the sight, “Think my fingers will do, hmm?” He cocks a brow, his rough finger tips dance up the length of your inner thigh before he is clasping his hand over the mound of your underwear. He sucks in a deep breath at the contact, struggling to control the raging storm of his hormones, “I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no idea.”

“Me too.” You gasp as Eddie’s fingers start rubbing tedious and teasing circles over your clothed clit, eliciting soft breathy moans from you.

“You’re gorgeous and your moans are pretty too— how lucky can a guy get?” You whine and swirl your hips down to meet Eddie’s movements, your body craving more of his touch and the filthy man doesn’t hesitate to slip his fingers past the lace of your panties.

Warm skin touching skin has your mind reeling with sin, “Getting impatient?” Eddie clicks his tongue, his free hand coming to curl around your neck. You welcome the action and your vision shifts as Eddie’s touch tightens on either side of your throat, “Tell me how good it feels, Baby.”

He punctuates his words by thrusting two of his long slender fingers inside of your aching slick hole and you release a dampened moan as your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy.

“Feels so good…” Your voice is a quiet whimper and Eddie shakes his head disapprovingly, his fingers curling inside of you and thrusting quicker and harder.

“Couldn’t hear you, Love…” His lips pepper kisses along your face until his mouth rests at the curve of your ear, “Speak up, Pretty girl.”

You feel as though you could cry at how good the tattooed brunette was making you feel. You hadn’t experienced anything quite like it before; all of this praise, the choking and the dominance. It felt good to let everything go— to give yourself to him.

“So good, Eddie! Feels so so good!” You’re a babbling, moaning mess beneath Eddie’s touch but you are beyond the point of caring as your euphoric release rushes toward you. Each skilled pump of Eddie’s decorated fingers leaves your walls clenching and your thighs quivering beneath you.

A wolfish growl rumbles deep within Eddie’s throat and he forces his knee between your thighs, leveraging you upright and keeping your back pressed against the brick wall.

“Gonna cum for me, Angel? Gonna cum around my fingers?” His pace quickens, if that were even possible and your eyes roll to the back of your head as your front teeth pierce your bottom lip, gnawing and nibbling at the plump skin like a desperate bunny.

You nod your head, but Eddie isn’t having any of it, “Words!” His fingers grab your face roughly and you open your lips in a pant, moaning greedily.

“Yes! Yes, I’m gonna cum! Please— fuck!” His chocolate eyes look fiercely into yours, dark and domineering; controlling.

Your orgasm shakes your body from the top to the bottom and you let out a noise that can only be described as a erotic scream and in a fit of slight panic Eddie pushes his hand flush against your mouth as you continue to ride out your high on his fingers.

“Shhh… gonna get us caught.” He offers you an egotistic toothy grin and your chest rises and falls with every intense breath you take in through your nose.

Eddie’s eyes flicker to the watch on his wrist, his eyebrows knitting in thought, “Looks like our lunch break is over…” He removes his hand slowly from your reddened and slightly swollen mouth, “Maybe we can continue this later…” a smirk never wavering from his face as he says, “Same time tomorrow, Princess?”

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll

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jeongin-lvr · 3 months ago

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𓂂. ✉️ יִ sextape, c. beomgyu

꒰ 🗯️ ꒱ 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍，𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗄! 𝗀𝗒𝗎，𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗌 + 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌，𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗑 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾，𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄，𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗀𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄，𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄！EDITED. originally wrote this for eunseok from riize...

[ 𝟣．𝟫𝗄 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 ] ☆ [ 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 ] ☆ [ 𝗆．𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ]

"𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 camera, pretty," Beomgyu held the little camera up to your face, the soft light it illuminated making you squint; meanwhile, his other hand held your jaw tight, squishing your cheeks together and making your lips pout. He chuckled when you whined at him, jostling your head around lightly as he held the camera still. Long enough to capture your expression. The look of pure bliss, damp eyes and messy spit dribbling down your jaw. It was disgusting— he absolutely needed to record it all. "Aw, look at you. You putting on a show for the camera, doll? Babbling like a slut?"

You whined once again, something that sounded like an attempt at words only to be drawn out in a puddle of vowels. Seeing you a wreck just from his fingers was a joy for him; Beomgyu's damp pointer and middle finger, slick with your pre, spread across your lips. It seemed he was making an even bigger mess of you for the film. You parted your lips for him obediently, his little coos easing you on.

"Suck on them for me, darling," Beomgyu demanded in a tone so sweet yet threatening. His eyes wide yet his irises dark as he stared at you from beneath the curtain of his lashes. It was like being stared down by a predator, his eye sharp like knives in your warm flesh. You did as you were told, taking his fingers in your jaw and licking them clean; the taste of saltiness wrapping across your tongue, "That's my good girl."

He finally pulled the camera back, grinning ear to ear as he propped it on your bedside table. Clattering against the wood as he adjusted it against a half-empty water bottle.

Beomgyu looked back down at you with a clearly excited glint in his eyes. Sliding his fingers out of your mouth and opting to get a taste of them himself, sucking briefly on his own supple flesh.

You mewled, attempting to clamp your aching thighs shut only to be stopped by the brunt of his knees forcing them wide. He chuckled softly when you responded to his actions with a whimper. He let go of his fingers with a pop, gripping your wiggling hip with the same hand.

"Was' the matter, baby? Relax," Beomgyu bent to your ear, breath so hot it felt suffocating as he spoke slow enough for your fucked-out brain to comprehend, "You're on camera... let's behave now." Though it was just a whisper, it felt like a slap across your own face. Making everything all the better, heightened senses running wild.

"Now... my fingers or my dick?"

Your eyes widened, and for the first time that night you actually spoke coherently, "W-what?"

He clicked his tongue, eyes flickering from the digital camera beside the two of you to your watery eyes, "My fingers or my fucking dick, baby, hurry up. I'm feeling nice so tell me what you want." His tight grip on your waist only grew tighter as his eyes shades darker.

"I—" Beomgyu pressed his erection right on your bare cunt, grinding into you with the same hard stare. You faltered, feeling the cold clasp of his jeans rubbing slowly against your puffy clit. You moaned out a sigh, your hand clasping around his wrist, "I— I want your d...dick. Please..."

"Good job, you used your words," Beomgyu sneered, rocking his hips with an extra force that made you squeak, "Wasn't hard was it?"

You shook your head and let out an unexpected sob, suddenly feeling all the emotions at once. This sound only made Beomgyu grin as he worked his jeans down slowly, wanting to tease you even more than he already had.

His eyes kept finding the recording, making sure the angle was right in the viewfinder.

Once he worked his thick cock out he pumped it once, a thick glob of pre sliding down his tip to the rest of his length by the palms of his hand. You gaped at him as excitement pooled in your tummy; forgetting to breathe as you took in the sight as best as you could.

"Keep these legs spread for me, doll," Beomgyu tapped your thigh, making you spread them as wide as possible; showcasing your gaping wet hole for him like an art piece. He aligned his dick on your puffy clit, the sudden heat of his length making you jolt as it rubbed slowly in a circular motion around your clit. You moaned with fluttering lashes, suddenly damp with tears, "Oh, fuck, you're so good baby... that's a good girl for me."

Beomgyu, as much as he wanted to play with you a little more, knew his camera only had a limited storage so he hurried himself up. Gliding his cock down your folds toward your enticing hole. He sighed when he pressed his tip into you, already satisfied with the way your eyes rolled back. He made sure to watch your face, suddenly reaching for the camera again to get a permanent rendition of your expression as he forced himself to fit into you. He held the camera in your face; you would've hid your expression if only you had the mind to care. He sunk into you slowly just to be able to catch every minor change in your face. From the crease in your brows to the twitch of your lips as they hung wide, it was all immortalized on this digital camera.

"Little pussy is practically sucking me in," Beomgyu sighed when he finally bottomed out, lightly tapping your tear-dampened cheek with enough force to make you whimper, "Fucking beautiful, baby."

He tossed the camera back down on the table, groaning as you clenched around him. Beomgyu swore the camera only made his senses heightened and he already felt like he was gonna cum; it was ruthless the way you clamped down on him. It felt like you were choking his cock. It seems knowing the camera was recording had the same effect on you. You whimpered his name, mewls of please and yes falling from your lips deliciously smooth.

Beomgyu nodded as if he understood; his eyebrows creasing as he intricately raised your hands up with one of his own, tightly secured your wrists above your head with the strength of his own hands. He chuckled when you whined again, this time your back arching. He didn't even have to properly fuck you for you to get off on his dick.

It was pathetically beautiful to him.

"Let me help you, darling," Beomgyu cooed, pulling his hips back only to snap them into you again. The harsh clap of skin on skin making you recoil back into the sheets. You called out his name as if he'd be able to help you despite being the one bringing you such immersible, overwhelming pleasure, "That's it, baby, yeah. Look how good you swallow me up... fuck, seeing you take my dick makes me want to knock you up..."

You whined at this, more salty droplets cascading down your face like a waterfall, lining your jaw and pooling in your collarbone. His grip on your wrists tightened the quicker his thrusts became. No longer was he cooing at you, not pretending to be the gentleman in bed. Now he was practically growling; properly fucking you with little care for your protests and half-baked whimpers. Beomgyu thrived on the pure ecstasy on your face, the contortion of your lips as drool and tears danced across your heated skin.

"This cunt is mine," Beomgyu groaned the loudest he had all night.

His head falling back briefly only for him to snap it back toward you, his eyes in slender almonds. Beomgyu was addicted to the wet sounds of your cunt taking his entire length, hoping the camera caught all of them; he was enamored by the sight of his cock going in dry and coming out soaked in pre from your slick, tight pussy. He groaned again when he saw your tummy bulge, chuckling as he raised his other hand from your hip and pressed it gently against your cute tummy.

"Oh, look at this," Beomgyu almost cheered, "Dick too big for this pretty little body of yours... you can see the imprint of my dick as I fuck you." He pressed against your belly harder and you yelped, the intense pleasure overwhelming. You sobbed into his arm as he bent down to you, fingers wriggling in his vice grip that felt impenetrable, "Gotta let me knock you up, doll, you'd look so fucking gorgeous with my baby."

You shook your head although your cunt clenched around him dangerously tight; so tight Beomgyu’s big brown eyes rolled back briefly.

"No— can't, Beomie," You whined his name for the hundredth time, "Too much— oh, oh, m' gonna cu-" Fresh tears spilled down your face and into the confines of your wet hair, drying from your own tears.

"Why fucking not?" Beomgyu groaned, "C'mon, baby, let's get a video of me fucking a baby into you... I know you want to."

You did want to— the thought practically had you slipping into a space in your head you've never been to before. You moaned his name, the sound fading into a crisp whine. He smirked, persisting with his words because he knew how wet it was making you. There was no hiding anything from him, besides, he could hear it all just from how he fucked you.

"Look so gorgeous all round with my kid," Beomgyu was close himself, starting to see stars cross his vision, "I'll cum so fucking deep inside of you you'll stay warm all night. F-fuck, I'll make you a mommy, baby. Want to be a daddy, will you let me?"

This time you were quick to nod, gasping between a sob as your back arched off the comfort of the mattress.

"Beomgyu!! Please!" Beomgyu pushed himself into you one, two more times and then that's all it took for you to be pushed over the edge. You collapsed into your orgasm so hard; your thighs shaking hard as sweat clung to your skin and your mouth grew wide with loud burst of moans filling the sex-filled air.

"Good girl, good girl," Beomgyu gasped this time, excited to pump you full. His hips driving into yours, overstimulating you enough to scream, "So close, m' close, fuck. I'm gonna cum inside you— take it, darling!"

Beomgyu's hips didn't falter, his orgasm washing over his like a wave of salt water and hot air. He only whispered your name with stuttering baby's. His grip on your wrists finally loosened as his body unintentionally sunk into yours. His cum was warm as it spread into your womb, thick enough to feel and deep enough to make you dizzy. Beomgyu groaned when his hips finally stuttered and he stopped moving; only your shared hot breaths filling the air now.

Beomgyu glanced over at the camera, grinning ear to ear when he saw the little red light still recording. He reached over to it and made sure to pan the fixture over your face one last time, capturing your final fucked out expression. He tucked your messy, sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and laughed, "That's my good girl. Smile for the camera one last time, bubs. That's it."

#౨ৎ. dee’s queued #feat. beomgyu .ᐟ #txt smut #tomorrow by together smut #tomorrow x together smut #txt hard thoughts #choi beomgyu #choi beomgyu txt #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu choi #txt beomgyu

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prettyfastcars · 6 months ago

Text

'til I touch, touch, touch you | Mob!Lewis

Summary: Lewis finds out that you have a thing for his hands.

Themes: explicit language, smut, fluff, praise kink, daddy kink

“Why are you sitting so far?”

He dared ask, looking at you like he didn’t know what he was doing to you. Manspreading on the other side of the couch, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows revealing his tattoos, all the buttons of his shirt were undone so you could see his muscular, tattooed chest clearly, and his braids tied neatly at the back.

He looked confused as to why you put all that distance between you and him on the large couch. If you sat any closer, you’d end up getting on his lap and beg him to fuck you till the morning. And he’d been working late these past few days, he looked a little tired. He deserved a little rest, you thought.

But fuck. Those soft eyes he made at you weren’t helping. And his damn hands. One holding a whiskey glass, and the other extended towards you. You tried your hardest to look away from them. Tattoos all over his fingers, and all his rings… you took a deep breath and said, “It’s comfy here.”

He frowned at you and tried again, “Babygirl,” He spoke in that irresistible voice of his, “Come sit with daddy, I missed you all day.”

Ah, screw it. You gave up resisting and crawled to him until you settled right beside him, throwing your legs over his lap and leaned into the warmth of his bare chest. You couldn’t help but lean down and kiss his warm skin, right above the compass tattoo.

“I missed you too.” You murmured, letting your lips brush over his skin. Then you nearly groaned when he brought his hand over to caress your exposed thigh. As if just looking at them weren’t torture enough, now he was gliding those slightly rough, tattooed fingers all over your skin.

You nearly stopped breathing altogether when his fingers began getting closer and closer to your inner thighs. Your little satin PJ set wasn’t hiding much of your body anyway.

“How was your day?” He asked, keeping an eye on what was playing on the TV while his hand mindlessly caressing your thigh.

You couldn’t look away. Those hands had been your fixation for a while now. “Uh,” You struggled to respond, “It was fine. I did, you know, stuff.”

Damn him. His hand slowly inched even further up your thigh, stopping you from even thinking coherently.

“Hmm. What else?”

You opened your mouth to answer but his fingers teased your upper thigh and you couldn’t help but groan. Leaning more into his touch as you hid your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled delicious and you groaned even louder.

Lewis chuckled. “You think I haven’t noticed you’ve been staring at my hands?” You refused to look him in the eyes so he continued. “You’ve been doing it a lot lately, haven’t you? What is it? They turn you on?”

You whined, trying to close your legs but he tightened his grip on your thigh and you couldn’t move.

“You like my hands?” He teased, placing his glass down and bringing his other hand to cup your face.

You finally pulled away from his neck so you could look up at him, and nodded shyly.

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “Where do you want them?”

You mumbled something but it was neither coherent nor audible.

Lewis brough his thumb over to your mouth, tracing the shape of your lips as he said, “Louder baby, use your words. Where do you want daddy’s hands?”

“All over me.”

His pretty brown eyes stared deep into yours as he smirked. “Come here,” He said, pulling you onto his lap.

You straddled him like you had the habit of doing and waited, and watched how his hands went back to your thighs, inching higher and higher up your leg, caressing your inner thighs. He smirked when you moaned and kept going. Sliding those gorgeous, tattooed hands all over your soft skin. The cold metal of his rings made you shiver.

His hands had done terrible things given the nature of his job. He had hurt, maimed, pulled so many triggers, ended lives even, but they were so gentle with you. So careful.

He leaned in to kiss your jaw and down your neck, his stubbled brushing against your skin gently. His lips warm and soft as they brushed all over your skin. His knuckles brushed against the front of the flimsy PJ shorts you were wearing.

He whispered, with his lips hovering over the corner of your mouth. “I can feel how wet you are, baby.” He slipped his hand past the waistband, into your thin underwear and touched you gently. His fingers circled around your clit, before he pushed a finger in, then another and started gently moving them in and out of you. “Is this what you wanted? Hmm?”

He placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and brushed it occasionally while he finger-fucked you, your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand. You threw your head back and moaned when his fingers touched you in all the right places, curling just right and massaging your sensitive spots perfectly.

His other hand gently wrapped around your neck, not squeezing yet but just holding you firmly. You got just a little louder as he sped up, his fingers slipping in and out of you with ease.

“Look down,” He said, “Look how well you’re taking daddy’s fingers.”

You did. And fuck if it didn’t make you whine and moan even louder.

And seeing you were whining and whimpering already, he decided to torture you more by moving his hand from your throat, “Open up, baby.” He whispered, pushing two fingers past your lips and into your mouth and slowly pumped those two as well.

Your lips immediately wrapped around his fingers. And he smirked at the sight of you, with two of his fingers buried in your wet core, slipping in and out of you rapidly while his other two fingers were buried into your warm mouth. His rings clinked against your teeth as he did.

“Do they feel good?”

You nodded desperately, clenching around his fingers.

The sounds you made alone were enough to make his pants feel tighter, and make him want to tease you even more. “Yeah? You like being completely stuffed, don’t you? Look at you, look how well you take it. Daddy’s perfect little slut, hmm?”

Your muffled moans, the way his hands moved against your skin, his fingers in your mouth, in your cunt… it was all too much. Soon you had tears streaming down your face.

He removed his fingers from your mouth and wrapped his hand around your throat again, squeezing just a little as he brought your face closer to his. His breath was just as ragged as yours, his lips inches away from yours. “Are you gonna come, baby? You’re gonna come for daddy?”

You nodded, moaning when he sped up again, his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet, almost agonizing pressure forming in between your hips.

You rolled your hips against his hand in a haze, chasing your orgasm, moaning and whimpering. “Come for me, babygirl.” He encouraged you and tightened his grip around your throat just a little bit more.

And you couldn’t hold it anymore, you let the familiar waves of pleasure wash over you as you came all over his fingers, crying out loud in pleasure. Gushing out all over his hand as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, getting everything he could out of you. He finally pressed his lips to yours and kissed you hard.

You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself then. You hurried to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, lowering the waistband of his underwear to free his erected cock. The mere sight of his perfect cock had you whimpering with need again.

You got off his lap and dropped to kneel in between his legs immediately. You reached out and wrapped your hands around his base and placed your mouth on his cock immediately, your tongue slowly circling his tip. He groaned and spread his legs further apart, inching his hips slightly forward as you took more of him into your mouth.

He sighed as he leaned back and grabbed his glass of whiskey again and sipped on it as he watched you suck his cock, bobbing your head around him just like how he liked it. You took him inch by inch until he filled your mouth completely.

“Fuck, baby…” He swore under his breath again as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper into your mouth. “You feel so fucking good.” His praise gave you a rush.

You wanted more. You took most of his cock into your mouth and repeated your actions again and again.

He moaned and growled occasionally. He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. You looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly. You always did.

You took him out of your mouth and teased him a little bit, licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls as you gently stroked him. His taste and scent was all you could focus on.

He swore under his breath at your teasing, as you dragged your tongue over the slit on this tip lazily. He looked down at you with a warning in his pretty brown eyes, his glass of whiskey just an inch or two from his plump lips. “Don’t tease me, babygirl.” He spoke, his voice carrying nothing but authority and lust.

So you got back to it while looking him in the eye. You took him back into your mouth and sucked on his cock until he was so close to coming undone all over your tongue, groaning and grunting in pleasure. You sped up your actions because you liked the sounds which left his lips while he was right on the edge.

“Fuck… slow down, babygirl.” He moaned, breathlessly as he came into your mouth. His thigh muscles tensing and his hips thrusting gently up into your mouth.

You swallowed all that he gave you and you licked him clean before climbing onto his lap again. This time after taking your clothes off.

“You’re such a good girl for daddy, you know that?” He said, after catching his breath for a second or two. Hands reaching up to cup your face. “You want more?”

You nodded again, licking your lips for any remnant taste of him. Lewis smirked and pushed you back down on the couch before he slid inside of you again, effortlessly. And the two of you moaned in unison as he filled you up again, your walls already gripping him tightly as your back arched off the couch.

“Fuck…” You whimpered.

His one hand wrapped around your throat while the other held on to your hip, keeping you in place. You felt his cock stretching you, filling you up. Every inch of him sliding into your tight cunt. You could feel your eyes tearing up at how snug he felt inside you. And his hand around your throat… fuck.

He held your stare as he reached down to grab your legs and wrapped them around his waist. He looked down to where your bodies connected, quickly spitting right on your clit, his thumb spreading the wetness around as he leaned down to give you a messy kiss, swallowing your desperate moan in the process.

“Please,” You mumbled against his mouth. You couldn’t help your loud moans which followed as he moved his hips the slightest bit. His cock moving in and out of you.

“Please what, babygirl?” Lewis pulled away and watched you as you whined at the feeling of his cock slowly moving in and out of you.

“Fuck me, please.” You whimpered, then felt your walls clenching around him as he finally sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on.

“You feel so fucking good…” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “So perfect for daddy.”

You moaned at how perfect his hard, muscular, tattooed chest felt against yours, his weight pressing down on you. His slight stubble tickled your skin as he moved. His soft lips brushing against your skin as he kissed you everywhere he could.

Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist. His thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body, tight and hot.

Lewis looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “Look at me, babygirl.” When you did, he whispered, “Daddy loves you. So much. You understand?”

You nodded. The possessiveness in his voice only made you clench around him again.

He gave you a lazy smile, “Then be a good girl and come for daddy.” His hand squeezed your throat, making you moan even louder. He leaned in, giving you a messy kiss. “Come all over my cock, baby. Come on.”

You whimpered, unable to say anything because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. The familiar pressure formed at your core yet again and you whined when his hand let go of your throat and his fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly.

Lewis loved that look on your face, that look of utter bliss, pain, pleasure, lust and hunger all at once. “That’s it, babygirl. You’re taking me so well, look at you. Now come, come all over me,” He whispered and that was all you needed to hear before you came undone all around him.

Whimpering and back arching off the couch as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him. He kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under his intense gaze.

He growled as he buried his cock deep inside you, coming undone right after you. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, feeling some of his cum drip down your thighs before he dropped carefully on top of you.

“You okay, baby?” He asked, gently kissing your neck while his hands touched you everywhere they could, rubbing up and down your sides, and thighs.

“Yeah,” You breathed, placing a hand on top of one of his, toying with his rings.

“Wanna go to bed?”

You sighed. “Don’t think I can walk just yet, give me a minute.”

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #mob!lewis #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton au #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic

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yuwuta · 9 months ago

Text

YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love.

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta <2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.”

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.”

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.”

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again.

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets.

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—”

“Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away.

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.”

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it.

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be.

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them.

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?”

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both.

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!”

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.”

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her.

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there.

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate.

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him.

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands.

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him.

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her.

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table.

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together.

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you.

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.”

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?”

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself.

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?”

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?”

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that?

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you?

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?”

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.”

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely.

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen.

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen.

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway.

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars.

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in.

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute.

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly.

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling.

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels.

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.”

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well.

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.”

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him.

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not.

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.”

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile.

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity.

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite.

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona.

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you.

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain.

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met.

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long.

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have.

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you.

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan.

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation.

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed.

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type.

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall.

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription.

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly.

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck.

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms?

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji.

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody.

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother.

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body.

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.”

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji.

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known.

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?”

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!” 

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.” 

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask. 

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little.

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else.

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn.

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can.

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else.

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin.

Believe that, Itadori.

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through.

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo.

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that.

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely.

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way.

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together.

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again.

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.”

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse.

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.”

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.”

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?”

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you.

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.”

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him?

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.”

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.”

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone.

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?”

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?”

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?”

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him.

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest.

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words.

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you.

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone.

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick.

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one.

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers.

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it.

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.”

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control.

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life.

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop.

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.”

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good.

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you.

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You’re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?”

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours.

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over.

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scottiexmariee · 22 days ago

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Hi~ ok so I have a request for a LAD headcannon. One where u wanna learn a new dance trend thats lowkey pretty spicy and if the boys reject then u say ur gonna go ask someone else (preferably someone they know like Greyson. Jeremiah, Thomas, one of the twins). Thank u so so so much and take all the time in the world

LADS Boys vs. Spicy Tiktok Trend

Characters: Xavier x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Sylus x Reader

Summary: How the boys would react to you threatening to ask someone else to assist with a spicy TikTok trend

Warnings: NSFW. MINORS DNI. Suggestive Content, (Implied Smut), Potential Lumiere spoiler if you aren’t familiar with lore

Wordcount: 2.7k

Masterlist

Note: I had way too much fun with this prompt. This is my own interpretation, so I hope this is what you wanted <3

“Well? What do you think?” You asked, studying Xavier’s face as the video you were showing him looped for the third time. He was next to you on the couch, studying your phone as if it were a foreign object, unable to form a coherent thought about what you were showing him.

There was a new couple’s dance trend circulating TikTok, and it was top priority to get Xavier on board with doing the trend. It was…a little provocative, to put it mildly. The dance started off innocent, but had a move at the end of it that included a little bit of grinding on your partner. You had absolutely zero intentions of posting it. Truthfully, you just saw an opportunity to rile Xavier up, and you were going to take it.

By the time the video looped for the fifth time, you waved your hand in front of his face. “Hellooo? Anyone in there?”

As if snapping out of a trance, Xavier finally blinked. Several times, actually, clearly trying to process whatever the hell you just made him watch. His eyes landed on you, and the poor guy looked like he had no idea where to start with his thoughts.

“Uhhhhh….”

“Let me guess,” You began, folding your arms indignantly, “you don’t want to do it,”

Xavier averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I…don’t know how I feel about recording that.” He finally said, finding a very interesting spot on the floor to stare at.

You figured he’d say no. Unfortunately for him, you’d planned ahead. You already had your dialogue choices preselected, and now it was time to roll.

“I’ll just ask Jeremiah, then,”

Xavier’s eye twitched, but he recovered quickly. He gave your thigh a playful squeeze as he shook his head. “Good luck. He knows better,” His tone was light, but you knew he wasn’t joking.

He was right. Jeremiah absolutely knew better. In fact, Jeremiah would likely have a panic attack if you even attempted to ask him to do something like that, simply out of fear of Xavier’s wrath. Jeremiah had once been subtly threatened over a completely innocuous conversation, and the deceptive softness in Xavier’s tone when he made the threat nearly had Jeremiah sputtering. (“You have nice teeth. It may be beneficial to find conversation elsewhere.”) Jeremiah didn’t look you in the eye for weeks after that.

The Jeremiah line, as predicted, was ineffective. With a sigh, you decided to default to your ‘in case of emergency’ tactic.

You stretched, trying to appear casual, doing your best to prevent a smirk from slipping. “I bet Lumiere would do the trend with me,”

Any traces of amusement that had been present on Xavier’s face vanished in an instant. The tension in the air thickened as soon as the words left your mouth. Xavier’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening as his eyes locked onto your faux innocent face. The message was clear: you did NOT just say that.

Truthfully, you hadn’t meant to actually piss him off. However, the thought of Xavier essentially beefing with himself was too good to resist sometimes. You thought he’d gotten over this by now.

“I’m not sure I heard you correctly,” He said, his tone deceptively calm. If looks could kill, you’d be dead on the floor. This was a warning. He was giving you a chance to backpedal.

“I’m just saying,” You said, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened with his mood shift.

“You would prefer to do an indecent trend with Lumiere?” He questioned, his tone still eerily even, despite the clear annoyance in his eyes. You needed to be very careful with your next answer.

“I would prefer to do the indecent trend with Xavier,” You teased, cupping his face in your hands and giving his head a gentle shake. He softened slightly at the contact. “We don’t even have to post it,”

He rose from the couch, catching your wrist in the process and pulling you with him.

“Xavier? Where are we going?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“To do the trend,” He responded, his tone much lighter than it was previously. “I’ll do it so Lumiere doesn’t get the chance,

Zayne stared at you with an expression that could only be described as unamused. You had made an attempt to show him the newest couple’s dance trend, quietly tossing in a comment about how you two would ‘look good doing that trend.’ Based on his complete lack of a reaction, you had your answer without him even needing to open his mouth.

You pulled your phone away, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “It’s not that bad,” You said defensively.

That was a blatant lie. If you tried to shake your ass as hard as the girl in the video you’d just shown him, you’d probably throw out a hip. You, however, were on a mission to spice up things with Zayne a bit, and the new trend was a perfect excuse to make an attempt.

….it had sounded better in your head.

“It’s aggressive,” He responded dryly. “I would recommend a psychiatric evaluation if I saw you doing that,”

If you weren’t desperate, his comment would have been hilarious.

“Guess I’ll wait for the pink slip,” You retorted, leaning back in your chair. “because I’m doing that trend,”

“It’s a couple’s trend,” Zayne responded, his expression deadpan. “Do you intend on doing it alone?”

You pursed your lips, searching for an answer. An idea came to mind, and Zayne stiffened upon seeing the flash of mischief in your eyes.

“I wonder if Greyson would try it with me,” You mused. You had no intentions of actually asking Greyson, you were simply just trying to press buttons now.

Zayne's eyes narrowed, and it was the closest thing to a reaction you’d gotten out of him so far. He looked almost offended, and you actually started to feel bad. However, the guilt dissipated the second Zayne responded with his ‘professional’ voice.

“That’s highly inappropriate and unprofessional,” He chided, his brows furrowing as he spoke. “and it would be rather unbecoming of my assistant to participate in something indecent with my significant other.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke,” You said, reaching for his hand. He allowed you to grab it, but it did nothing to quell the absolute bewilderment your comment had caused.

“If you won’t actually do the trend with me, would you be willing to just practice?” You asked, purposefully lowering your voice to ‘bedroom’ tone.

Zayne’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He was definitely listening.

“I mean, you could consider that as an exercise, right?” You continued, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “And exercise is good for you, right?” Your tone was borderline teasing now, but it seemed to actually be working.

“It is,” He responded. “It increases blood flow, reduces the risk of heart disease, can increase dopamine levels—“

You squeezed his hand, giving him the flirtiest look you could muster.

“Well, Doctor Zayne, could you help me increase my dopamine?”

His resistance was crumbling quickly. Between that look on your face and the tone of your voice, it was getting harder and harder to deny you.

Especially when he knew what your real intentions were.

With a sigh, he softly grabbed your hand and rose from his spot at the table, his initial protests long forgotten.

“Phone stays on the table,” He warned, just to be safe.

As he lead you toward the couch, you couldn’t help but giggle.

Your plan had completely derailed, but in a way, you were still getting what you wanted.

As soon as you saw the newest couple’s dance trend circulating, you knew that you and Rafayel would absolutely OWN it.

You could already picture how hot he’d look with some shirt buttons undone, chest *slightly* exposed, swinging his hips with yours in tune to the beat of that catchy song. You two were going to absolutely devour this trend.

….Well, that was the plan, anyway.

He was willing to hear you out until he saw examples. By the third video, his ears were very pink, and he was staring at your phone like it had personally offended him. The amused smile he’d sat down with was no longer in the vicinity.

When he finally found his voice, the protesting was immediate. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening,” He said, shaking his head vigorously and shoving your phone away from him. He wiped his fingers on his pants as if he’d touched something dirty. He then rose from his seat, very obviously about to attempt a swift exit.

“Raf, please!” You begged, nearly tripping over your chair as you followed after him. You caught his sleeve, tugging him back toward you. He didn’t budge. “We’d look so good. I’ll literally start begging,”

He shook his head vehemently. “I don’t even want to imagine the headlines that would cause. Nooo way, (y/n),”

“When have you ever cared about what the headlines say?” You protested, giving his sleeve another tug. “Please! It’s just one video! I’ll never ask you to do a trend again!”

“I’ll agree to this when I see sharks driving cars,” He responded, skillfully escaping your desperate grip on his sleeve. He began heading toward the kitchen in an attempt to put as much distance between himself and this conversation as possible.

Fine. Let’s see how he likes this.

You retrieved your phone from the table and began typing a phone number. Rafayel paused and looked over his shoulder at the sound of your nails tapping against the screen.

He fully turned around when you hit the ‘call’ button and raised your phone to your ear.

“…who are you calling?” He asked, already heading back toward you, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Thomas,” You replied casually. “If you won’t do it with me, then—“

Your phone was confiscated before you could even finish your sentence. Rafayel held your phone above his head, his other hand pressed against your forehead, effectively keeping you an arm’s length away. Rafayel quickly ended the call before Thomas could pick up as you began to protest.

“Oh come on!” You cried out, arms flailing as you tried to retrieve your phone from Rafayel’s air jail.

“Apologize or I’ll swallow it,” He threatened, holding your phone higher above his head. “You can’t call other men or be influenced by dance videos if I eat your phone,”

You stared at him, beyond incredulous. While Rafayel did have a flair for the dramatic, the look on his face alone made you hesitant to call his bluff.

“You’d rather swallow my phone than do a 10 second trend with me?”

“You were calling Thomas! What does he have that I don’t?”

You folded your arms, glaring daggers at the man holding your phone hostage. “I only called Thomas because you refused.”

Rafayel scoffed, his expression nothing short of indignant. “Oh, so you’re just a traitor then? Gooot it. And to think I shared my smoothie with you earlier,”

“If you don’t like me anymore, just say that,”

Rafayel’s mouth dropped open upon hearing you use one of his ‘drama queen’ lines against him. He could not believe you had the nerve to use his own words for your own petty gratification. “You—“

He sighed, releasing your forehead from his palm. Your phone, however, was still in air jail.

Rafayel was silent for several moments, and you could almost physically see the gears in his brain working overtime.

“What if we compromise?” He finally asked, eyes landing directly on your face.

“Compromise?”

“I’ll do the trend with you. But you aren’t allowed to post it. Nuh-uh. It’s for our eyes only.” He finally lowered your phone from above his head, keeping it just out of reach as he continued speaking, “and if you post it anyway I will literally put a curse on you.”

You paused, your eyes flitting between Rafayel’s face and the phone that was still firmly in his hand. You considered your options, and after a small internal debate, you decided that this was as good as it was going to get.

“Okay,” You affirmed, holding out your hand for your phone. “Deal.”

He smiled, finally handing your phone.

As the two of you began to walk to the closet to find a change of clothes for the video, Rafayel spun to face you.

“Also,” He began, “You know how you said you’d never ask me to do a trend again?”

“Yes?”

“I’m holding you to that,”

The day had dragged on. Sylus had spent most of the day holed up in his armory, and the twins were out doing who knows what. Mephisto wasn’t great company either, and his beady little eyes got uncomfortable after a while. You were absolutely consumed by boredom, which lead to you scrolling on TikTok for far too long.

Right as you were finally about to throw your phone out of pure frustration, your algorithm came in clutch and graced you with a video from this week’s newest dance trend, a suggestive little couple’s dance. You bit your bottom lip, already feeling flushed at the thought of Sylus with his hands all over you like that.

It was sexy. It was flashy. And it was absolutely the cure for your boredom.

Your feet were moving before you’d put any thought into it, carrying you straight to the armory.

You all but crashed through the door.

“Sylus~” You chirped, zeroing in on him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

He looked up at you, eyes softening at your expression.

“Well, don’t you just look delighted,” He drawled, patting his lap for you to have a seat. “What’s the occasion?”

As you climbed into his lap, you pulled up the video you’d added to your favorites and held it out for him to watch. He did so without questioning it, but you could see the subtle expression change as he tried to process what he was seeing.

When the video ended, he returned his gaze to you, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

“Well?” You poked his cheek, searching for any hint of his thoughts in his expression.

“That was….modest,” He said, his voice laced with a level dry sarcasm that only Sylus was capable of.

“Will you do it with me?” You asked, getting straight to the point.

Sylus chuckled, the sound deep, rich, and like music to your ears. As quickly as your hopes rose, they were quickly squashed by his next statement.

“While I’m flattered that you think I’d be a good candidate for…that,” He began, gesturing toward your phone, “I’m going to have to decline, sweetie.”

Short, sweet, and to the point.

“Ugghhh, but I’m so bored!” You whined, tossing your head back in exasperation.

Sylus watched your mini-tantrum fondly, desperately fighting off a smirk. “If you’re bored, you could always hang out with me in here,”

You glanced around the room. It was clear that he’d been down here messing with several different weapons, and by the looks of things, he was nowhere near done.

You loved spending time with Sylus. On any other day, you would have jumped on the offer, just to be near him. Today, however, your boredom had reached its climax and you were certain you would combust if you sat down here and watched him meddle with various weapons.

With a defeated sigh, you removed yourself from his lap and began sulking toward the door. “I guess I’ll just go find the twins,”

Truthfully, you hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. You definitely weren’t going to bother them with the trend, but that was definitely how Sylus took it. You heard the distinct sound of a weapon being set down onto the table.

“No need,” He said gruffly, abandoning his task and rising to his full height. You turned and quirked an eyebrow, not understanding the sudden change of heart.

He closed the distance between the two of you, looping an arm around your shoulders as he passed.

“That…’trend’ gave me a better idea for a boredom cure,” He said, leading you out of the armory.

“Oh? Tell me!” You chirped excitedly.

Sylus shook his head. “It’s more of a show than a tell,”

While you didn’t get to do the spicy TikTok trend, Sylus had cured your boredom in a different spicy way.

You were reeeally thankful for that trend.

Thank you for interacting <3

If you enjoyed, please leave a like or reblog!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #lads sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace xavier #xavier x reader #lnds xavier #lads xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #lads rafayel #lads zayne #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #lads headcanons #lnds headcanons

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tswkento · 1 month ago

Text

nanami sighs heavily as soon as he sees you putting on your work clothes. your fingers freeze above the buttons of your shirt as you look up at him as if a deer caught in headlights.

he crosses his arms over his chest, a deep frown settling on his features as he steps closer to you, “what did i tell you about going to work?”

you sniffle and pout at him, brows furrowing to the middle, and the sight of you with that face and your shirt half-buttoned would have been very very appealing if not for the fact that you were still sick.

“but kento!”

nanami shakes his head, hand effectively shutting down any attempt at trying to convince him that you were “fine” and “good to go”. it’s your second attempt at going to work — the first being yesterday when you were almost successful, but when he was placing a farewell kiss on your forehead he noticed the unusual heat of it and sent you right back in bed.

“no, none of that.”

you groan, but comply, too weak to stand by your decision, and fall back on the messily made bed. nanami sits down by your side, warm palm settling on your thigh as he inspects your face. it still adorns the pouty expression, but your eyes are glossy and the corners of your lips tremble, which means that you’re trying very hard not to cry.

he cooes at you, manoeuvring your body into a sitting position so he can hold you close to himself and you sniffle deeply, coughing a little as you hide your face.

“i hate being sick.” he caresses your cheek as he looks down at you, thumb wiping away thick teardrops that cling to your lashes, and places a kiss on your forehead, noting that the heat of your skin seems to have gotten worse and how you are even still moving around is very much surprising.

“i know, sweetheart, i know.” nanami tilts your head up, leaning closer to whisper to you, “you should rest while i make something to eat.”

your drowsy gaze locks with his and you only mumble a barely coherent “mkay, kento” before you let yourself be tugged into a deep sleep. nanami admires your cute face for another minute after tucking you in and finally leaves to make you a meal.

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hazelfoureyes · 9 months ago

Text

Luck (Alastor x Reader smut)

Tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, creampie, attempted kidnapping, justified homicide, mention of the the history of women stabbing men with hat pins, biting, breeding kink if you squint, blood, Luci left on read :(, protective Alastor, cervix bullying, possessive Alastor, outside sex, rough sex, fem reader

minors DNI

This was a two part story, this being part two. But part one just isn’t good enough and I’m tired of waiting lol so here’s the standalone smut, written in a way it can be enjoyed solo

Vox’s ever present eyes noticed a reoccurring face around Alastor, and decided you were an easy way to get under his skin. Alastor manages to find you during the kidnapping but how he finds you sends his gentlemanly resolve unraveling. He had wanted to be gentle, he really had. C’est la vie, hm?

It took nearly 2 months of regular run-ins around Cannibal Town, chats over black coffee and deviled eggs, and some behind the scenes magic by Rosie but you finally enjoyed a dinner with the Radio Demon.

He’d never tell you how he awoke nightly in a panicked sweat, dreams of your soft skin under his nails tormenting him. He had done his absolute best to be just a charming southerner, tiptoeing between flirtatious and polite. Something about asking someone out during the night seemed scandalous and … loaded with implications. But ever since his hands felt your body thrumming beside him during a dance at Rosie’s Birthday Bash in the town square, he felt starved for the opportunity to see you again. You were beautiful in the daylight, yes. But something about the night, the way the shadows seemed to blanket the two of you together, it made him feel wild. He could remember the nights on the prowl during his time on earth, and the rush of being so close to you with so few people around felt so similar.

Rarely did he get a rush of adrenaline anymore, but when you’d shoot a witty retort back at him his heart would balloon against his ribs. The way you looked at him while he spoke, like you were drunk on the sound of his voice, made his fingers tremble. He never wanted anyone to know this, and hoped in some way he’d never have to tell. But then he considered, what face would you make if you ever reached over for his hand across the table? What if you rested your delicate head against this chest and heard the frantic beating? How sweetly would you smile? Smile at him, only?

“Alastor?” You broke him from his trance, noticing the ever so subtle way his smile seemed to loosen around the edges when he was lost in thought.

Dinner was long done, and you’d both managed to stall for a bit as he walked you toward the gates to Cannibal Town. He had insisted he escort you, though he was irked you wouldn’t allow him to wait until your ride had arrived.

If he knew you were staying with Lucifer Morningstar, he’d see you differently somehow. You didn’t want Alastor to think you were chasing powerful men, or to know you slept so close to the King of Hell. Something in your gut said he would find it unattractive.

“Yes, dear?”

You gestured to the gates a couple blocks in front of you, “This is good. You should get home.” Before Luci arrives to take me back to his.

“I intended to take you to the gates.” He looked past you, then back to you. You were so … small in front of him. Not your body or form, just, your existence. So delicate compared to his own strength. The way you looked up at him with your large doe eyes, it practically pained him. You looked so innocent, pure— how he wanted to make your eyes roll as your head lost any semblance of coherent thought. He wanted to corrupt you from the inside out.

“It’s just a couple of blocks.” He lifted his hand to begin to argue, but you cut him off at the head. “Alastor” you said it so softly now, your tone startling him with its gentleness. Had anyone, ever, said his name so sweetly? Since his mother, atleast?

“May I?” You tapped your cheek. His eyebrows rose before knitting together in understanding.

He leaned down and turned his cheek to you. You hummed happily and placed a chaste kiss there. Alastor turned his face toward yours, “In the future, You don’t have to ask for permission, darling.” You tried your best to keep your heart in your chest, and nodded. It was well known he wasn’t fond of physical touch, let alone unexpected touch. Is this how it felt to be an overlord? To claim a piece of someone else, a slice of territory not originally yours? “Two blocks is quite a deal of distance in hell.” He didn’t take his eyes off yours. Your attempt to distract him failed. Of course it did, he was nothing if not persistent.

“I have my weapon.” You lifted the hem of your dress to show a small angelic dagger holstered to your thigh.

“Ah, yes. Ha ha! Some kind of hat pin, I see” His eyes rolled, amused, “Who would dare bother you with such a frightening needle?”

With a glare, you mocked him, “Ha, Ha.” But as you turned to leave you stopped yourself. Every encounter with Alastor felt like it could be your last, as if he’d just disappear entirely. “May I see you tomorrow? I was going to get coffee at Hallowed Grounds around 10.”

“My dear, you couldn’t stop me.” He cooed, “Needle and all.”

“Good night, Alastor”

“Good night.” He didn’t move at first, but after you had made it half way to the gates of what he felt was assured safety, he let himself turn and leave.

His grin touched his ears as he hummed to himself. His cheek felt heavier where you’d kissed him. A part of you lingering with him. How he wanted nothing more than to grab you by the throat and -

An appliance store window filled with various sized TVs flickered as he walked past. Alastor stopped, ears turned down as he turned on the heels of his feet to face Vox’s cocky stare plastered on every screen.

“Oh, it’s you. Don’t you have a curfew? No TV after 9pm, they say. Rots the brain.” Alastor lifted his hand to inspect his nails. Vox had a witty intro planned, and launched straight into it. He only stopped when Alastor looked back up, “I’m sorry, were you speaking?”

The screens glitched and filled with static before Vox’s face stretched out across them all.

“It’s not my bed time you should be worried about.” Vox crooned. He couldn’t resist the urge to prod Alastor, “Perhaps your new friend should have gone home earlier.”

Just before you reached the gates, you stopped to see if Lucifer had replied about his ETA. Your phone slipped out of your hands as someone pulled you backwards into the narrow alley behind you.

A hand covered your mouth while the other arm was lifting you up by your waist. You kicked your feet uselessly trying to make contact with any thing that would slow your progress into the shadows.

Another man entered now in front of you, “You’ve got a meeting at Vee Tower, babe.”

The sound of an idling car in the back of the alley came into focus. You grabbed your knife and plunged it into the right thigh of the man holding you. He dropped you and you barely managed to scramble to your feet before his hand grabbed you by the hair and threw you against the wall. The force of the impact stunned you but you’d managed to keep the knife in your grip.

You’d been waiting for this. You had let men get the best of you before on earth, too scared of dying if you failed to defend yourself. You weren’t scared now. When you looked back at the man, he was shouting at his partner but you couldn’t understand a word. Your ears were ringing, a combined effect of hitting the wall and your skyrocketing blood pressure.

Your shoes slipped off easily and you pushed yourself from the wall and back into the attempted kidnapper, shoulder first.

Seeing you launch yourself onto his accomplice, the other man booked it out of the alley. It wasn’t worth it. This was supposed to be easier than this.

If he had maybe turned left, he would have made it to safety. But luck was with Alastor when the brute ran straight into him.

Your phone lay on the ground behind the man, who was already backing up when Alastor set his eyes on him.

“I’m going to enjoy this”, Alastor’s voice cracked with a static sting, eyes flickered to red dials against midnight black eyes as his back and neck broke and stretched. The man tripped over himself, but Alastor’s hands tore the man’s upper torso from his body before his ass had time to hit the sidewalk.

There was no time to savor the death, he tossed the man’s head and shoulders into the street before bounding with unnaturally wide strides into the entry of the side street.

Never had he known fear like this. Not when alive, not even close. Not even when Adam nearly bested him. There was a rock in his stomach threatening to drag his heart into the gutter of the Pride Ring as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the alley. Were you still there? Were you still whole?

You hadn’t noticed him at first, not until his massive, looming shadow shrunk across your body. Even then, you hadn’t stopped to realize it wasn’t the other attacker. You continued stabbing the dagger into the man’s throat with both hands until Alastor’s shoe crushed a piece of wayward glass under his step, breaking your concentration. Wild eyes finally tore themselves from the grey flesh of the demon on the floor up to Alastor, still expecting a fight with the man who’d fled.

“Alastor” was all you could squeak out. You were straddling the man by the chest, his throat so thoroughly decimated his head held on by just a few loosened tendons. The white dress you’d worn specially for your dinner was soaked through with blood. Your hands red to the wrists. Your lips and cheeks splattered. Your feet dirty and bare.

You yelped as you were yanked off of the dead man by your chin, Alastor’s large hand holding you off the ground. You were finally eye to eye with your dinner date. For the second time that night you were thrown against the cold brick wall. Alastor’s free hand grabbed yours that still held the knife and repeatedly bashed your fisted hand against the wall until the knife fell from your grip to the street below you. You hadn’t meant to keep it, never meant to brandish it at Alastor. Your survival instinct had overridden your sense.

Perhaps it would have stayed in control, but when Alastor’s hand slipped to your throat and his lips crashed into yours your mind went blank.

He kissed you clumsily, this wasn’t a man in love, or even a man in lust. This wasn’t a man at all. A demon in need was bruising your lips against his teeth. When you didn’t immediately open to receive him, he used his free hand to push at your cheeks and press inward where your bottom jaw naturally met your top. Your mouth was wrenched open, allowing his long and wide tongue to bully your own.

Alastor felt frenzied, the sight of you manically stabbing the already dead attacker momentarily broke him. His sweet little doe, his innocent and gentle darling brutally murdered a man and he got to witness it with his own eyes. He never believed God ever noticed his existence, but the moment he saw you straddling that corpse he felt sure some higher power delivered you to him. Just for him.

Only for him.

Pretense and facade be damned, you were made for him in such a specifically demented way.

He lifted you up, pressing your body against the wall with his own as your legs wrapped around his hips. He didn’t know where to start, he couldn’t keep his hands from trembling as he smeared the blood over your cheek between hurried kisses. His eyes were aglow, keeping your focus on him and only him as they darted around your face taking in every detail, every errant drop of your attacker’s blood.

Alastor buried his head into your collarbone, sucking bruises and nipping cuts into your exposed skin. You could feel the strained erection in his pants, it helped keep you balanced against him and the wall. He seemed to be mindlessly grinding his clothed cock against your core. Your dress had naturally found its way up and over your hips as he let one of his hands cradle your ass.

He had half a mind to rip the dress off of you but as he took a second to look down at your body he knew he wanted to keep it. The dress his love first killed in. Love— before a word that fell weightless from his tongue now sat heavy in his thoughts. He wanted your blood stained dress stuffed in his mouth as his last meal. An ode to your corruption. Maybe you'd understand him now, better than most. Did you enjoy it when you stabbed that man?

Breathing ragged and uneven, he pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes were glowing red, pupils dark black pins.

Did it scare you, when you killed him?

Were you scared now?

He lurched you upward again, hands coming to either side of your head as he pulled back to look at your face properly.

“If you don’t want this, now is your only opportunity to stop me.” He closed his eyes to try and regain an ounce of composure. Perhaps a small human piece of him not wanting to see your face if you denied him this.

With every breath he seemed to be taking in your scent, his hips still gently pushing into you. Your eyes darted to the well lit street just beyond the dark of the alley. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your fingers scratch lightly at his undercut. He violently shuddered at the touch.

You shook your head imperceivably to most, “You don’t have to ask me for permission, darling.”

With that, Alastor came completely undone. As his teeth marked your neck with shallow tears, his hand tore the crotch of your panties entirely off, leaving just the lace waistband to slip up your stomach. With the speed of a starving man to his first meal, his cock was free of his pants and rutting against your exposed slit.

The head of his member was pushing against your clit in unpracticed thrusts, slipping between your lips and pressing at your entrance. With a growl he lifted you up more and angled your hips to him. He didn't wait to feel if he was lined up and he sunk into your heat with a single thrust. You winced, clutching onto his shoulders. His eyes saw the pained expression and for a second, just barely, the southern gentleman who tried to walk you home slipped back to the surface. But as quickly as he came, he was lost again as Alastor saw the way your mouth hung open, tongue hanging over your swollen lip.

A static shock nipped at your wrists where they met his neck, "Such a debauched look, mon cher. I haven't even begun to ruin you yet."

A moan slipped past your lips as he brought his mouth to your ear, tugging with his teeth as he thrust back into you. You could feel he hadn't bottomed out yet, but already he was crushing your stomach into your diaphragm. Your chest began to feel hot, a warmth trickling down to your stomach and pooling beneath your belly button.

Ad his breath ghosted along your neck, you could hear it sharply spike with every slam of his hips against yours. Something about seeing him losing composure, hearing him so vulnerable, spurred you to roll your hips against his cock.

"Mmmm," Alastor groaned, "Don't push your luck, dear. Do you know how precarious of a sit-"

You did it again.

He pulled out of you with one motion and flipped you around. Your hands were yanked behind you, the long fingers of one of his own hands intertwined with your wrists. His other hand lifted your knee up and out as he pushed back into you. The new position allowed him to reach deeper than before, and with a burning stretch you felt him finally bottom out. With each thrust, the head of his dick dragged inside of you. The new angle allowed him to smash into your g-spot with every slam into your heat, his balls tightly slapping against your wet cunt.

"I wanted to be gentler with you", He leaned his head against your shoulder, pace quickening. It felt as if your back would snap in half, "But you looked absolutely sinful covered in his blood." His lips grazed your ear as he let go of your wrists, his antlers now large enough to be scraping against the bricks above your head. The loss of him holding you made you lose you balance. Alastor took the opportunity to find your clit with his middle finger.

Biting down on your lip you broke the skin, trying to suppress the moan rising out of you. His hips kept a bruising pace, your ass smacking against his lower stomach with every thrust. You didn't want anyone, anyone to find you getting railed against a wall just outside of cannibal town.

His fingers forced past your lips, you hadn't noticed he was using a shadow tendril to now lift your knee to nearly touch your elbow. Two fingers pressed down on your tongue as his pace impossibly quickened.

You wanted to lick or suck at his digits, do anything to participate in this alleyway fucking, but it became clear Alastor didn't want you to do anything at all. He was lost in the pleasure of your pussy clamping down on him, pushing back against him with every intrusion. He just needed you to exist there around him. He needed you to take him, for your body to welcome the gentle abuse.

The pressure began to build as the reality set in that the Radio Demon was fucking you raw against a wall. You felt your orgasm winding up. The infamous Alastor, the mighty overlord, balls deep in you. So entranced by your cunt he could only groan and hiss against your ear. You could feel every centimeter of him pulling and pushing inside of you, his head smashing your cervix and uterus into your guts.

Your hands began to slip down the wall as your mind started to go fuzzy around the edges. His middle finger strumming at your sensitive clit with a new fervor, his thrusts becoming shallower. The radio in the assailants idling car roared to life, flitting through stations and static wildly as Alastor spoke to you.

"When you orgasm,” His voice crackled against the nape of your neck, "and your cervix lowers to receive my seed,” your knee was dropped as he fucked you flush against the wall, trapping your body there, "I will drown your needy cunt in my cum, darling." His words echoed through the car's radio and off the walls of the alley, volume peaking with a pop as the speakers blew out.

The tickle of his lips along your spine made you shudder, and you went limp as you let your mind go and allowed your body to spasm around him. As your orgasm hit, your stomach muscles cramped and your body tightened around Alastor's cock. He hissed, his hips losing their rhythm for a second as you almost painfully clamped onto him, cunt trying desperately to pull him deeper into you. He needed to slow down or else he’d be pushed into his own release sooner than he planned. As your orgasm waned and your pussy squeezed softly against him again, he renewed the rhythm. Your body had gone entirely slack, your limbs no longer able to receive messages from your brain.

Within seconds, Alastor thrust against you so forcefully you felt the air pressed out of your lungs. He buried himself in you, holding your hips flush against his as you instinctively tried to squirm away. The way you moved against him, tried to flee from his release, only seemed to make his cock jump more inside you. You thought you heard a pained “mine" against your shoulder as his promised seed jerked into your now pliant womb.

He finally stilled, his dick softening in you. You felt your body slide down the wall, feet touching the ground before giving out entirely. You sat, slumped back, and looked to the scene in front of you. Dead demon behind Alastor, your shoes bloodied and tossed around, and your little knife just within reach.

Alastor quickly composed himself, cock returned to his pants and his suit adjusted precisely. You looked up at him, eyes glazed and tear stained. Your dress was wet and ruined, thighs slick with a mix of fluids. Yet he stood there, clean and pretty. Perhaps some of you had soaked into the front of his pants, but you couldn’t be sure.

"I apologize for underestimating you", He took the dagger, lifting your dress to slide it back into its holster. "And for allowing you to leave my sight." He gathered your shoes and wiped the dirt from them against the leg of his pants before gently slipping them back onto your feet. With two large hands under your arms he pulled you up to your feet, legs trembling still. "I promise you it won't happen again. Can you walk, my doe?"

The new name made your cheeks feel hot, funny given the more embarrassing part of this situation was his cum now sliding down your thighs. You nodded weakly, adding, "But-" and glanced to your lap. You squeezed your knees together and looked back at him.

"I fail to see the problem." His head tilted to the side as he lifted your dress with one of his long fingers and watched the milky white liquid slowly inch down your inner leg. "But, I'll find us a taxi. You won't be going home." He guided you by your hands to step over the corpse and into the light of the street.

You clarified, "I won't be going home tonight?"

He summoned his microphone and brought it down with a crack onto your phone, still discarded on the sidewalk. "INCOMING CALL: LUCI" flashing on the screen before it was shattered. He lifted his hand and waved for a passing taxi, turning to you with a soft grin, "Any night, darling."

༻Masterlist༺

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cvnt4him · 2 months ago

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HI I saw your fic abt izuku being really nervy with touch but now can you do one where his girl “bsf” (us) is rlly touchy and they always do couple stuff so casually and everyone is like “y’all are literally dating” and he insists “nahhh this is what bsf do” and we are like “he doesn’t know he’s my bf yet” kinda vibe? Idk if this is coherent at all but yk I’m just a girl

Oh I like the way you think.

This is what friends do.

They snuggle up close to each other, bodies flush against one another. Izuku 10% believes, that this is indeed what best friends do. He holds you close, ketting you scoot back into him, your ass right up against his pelvis. He shudders resisting the urge to let his hips buck up against your ass.

But this is what friends do, they cuddle close and look into each other's eyes longingly. The dark room consumes the both of you whole, his hand finds itself way to your cheek gently rubbing it while you whisper something to him. Everything you say unfortunately goes unheard, he's too busy trying his hardest to get a good look at you underneath the moonlights glow.

It's all okay. This is what friends do. They kiss each other on the cheek, or on the foreheads, or even sometimes the nose. They kiss each other in these places to make their friends know they're loved. It's even okay for them to occasionally kiss the corner of the others lips.

Izuku was nervous, your touch was warm literally burning his skin. It's like in whatever place you touch it vibrated and turned pink, he didn't know what to do. His face was hearing up, your face was so close to his he just didn't know how to react. He felt your breath on his face, you were so close to him it made him shiver. Finally you stop just an inch away from your lips touching, he gulped audibly and tried his hardest not to freak out.

“ goodnight zu.”

You say in a whispered tone, gently kissing the very corner of his lips making him gasp while you did so. You give him a small smile before snuggling close and lying your head on his chest. His breath was shaky and his whole face was beet red, luckily it was too dark for you to notice. He sighed and laid his chin atop of your head closing his eyes and getting ready for bed.

Although if you asked izuku he would be quick to say "you're just best friends!" He'll admit there are some things that make him question your relationship. One time you both were out with friends at the movies, he bought you a ticket and some snacks for the both of you to share, plus you were wearing matching onesies. Everyone was quick to comment on it and how cute you both were but he was quick to shut it down.

“ oh c'mon, we're just friends! right y/n?”

“ yeah guys, we're seriously just besties at best. He just doesn't know he's actually my husband yet.”

Izukus eyes were blown wide as you walked past him slurping a slushie, mina follower you giggling you both had started whispering and huddling together talking about something. Izuku would be lying if he said he didn't want to know. Some of the guys were so quick to tease him asking him questions like "when you two got married" and "if you'd let him hit yet".

While sitting down and watching the movie you sat next to mina mostly just talking rather than watching, izuku sat next to bakugou and denki with kirishima sero and todoroki behind them. Izuku was just above you, yet you were so good at whispering he couldn't exactly make out what you were saying, but trust his nosy ass wanted to know.

“ so you're telling me you've NEVER thought about fucking y/n? like not even once?!”

Denki questioned midoriya with a box of Pocky in his hands, izuku was chewing on some twizzlers and nearly choked at the absurd question.

“ w- what?! no! of course not! we're seriously just friends okay?”

He was quick to shut it down. Huffing as he leaned onto his best friend slightly, the blond looked down to the green haired boy who's eyes were trained on you and what you were showing mina on your phone. Katsuki scoffed which involuntarily caught everyone's attention.

“ if yer’ gonna pretend like you don't want ‘er at least stop staring at her like you wanna fuck ‘er.”

It made all the boys laugh, and tease izuku he was so red and just didn't know how to react. Now his best friend was teasing him? It'll never end. With an annoyed sigh izuku stood and excused himself from the rather noisy group. He walked past you and mina grabbing your attention, mina pointed at him and pushed you to follow him. You did exactly that.

Following behind him you see him walking to the boys bathroom and just before he could go in you yell out "boo!" Making him let out a high pitched noise, causing people to look in your direction. He was so embarrassed he covered his face with his hood and grabbed you by your arm and pulled you inside and closing the door behind you. Luckily you were also wearing your hood so no one could exactly tell you weren't a guy.

“ I'm sorry I'm sorry! I didn't expect you to get scared like that hahaha!!”

You say to him with faux apologies, he was red and embarrassed, that adorable little pout forming back on his face. He was so prone to doing it all the time it's like it was just a default setting for him.

“ y/n!!”

The way he whined your name was just too cute. You were dying of laughter, holding onto him while he buried his face in your neck huffing and breathing into it. Once he smelled your perfume he calmed down a bit, your scent was just so soothing to him. Your laughter began to cease as you swayed in his arms. His eyes closed as he just held you there, he moved slightly shifting his nose to bury itself deeper into the crook of your neck, sighing heavily creating a warmth there.

You hum and scratch his scalp lightly, his hoodie falling off as you did so. He was just too cute for this world sometimes. Being a pouty little shit. You pull back a bit making him groan lowly while staring daggers into your eyes, he was annoyed. Not necessarily with you but with how everyone kept saying you two should "just get together". Or how you're "literally together". It didn't help that you played along with them and called him your husband.

The only thing running through his mind is what if he had actually liked you. What if he didn't know if he liked you. What if he hated the way you make him feel, how you'd touch all over him leaving your scent all over his clothes or his sheets like you'd just had sex or something..

“ zuku, what's the matter?”

He didn't answer. Too busy looking deep into your eyes, they way they looked up into his. That little sparkle in your eyes, it drove him crazy. The things the guys were saying earlier were replaying in his head as he took a good look at you and how you looked in this baggy onesie. Without a thought in mind he grabbed you by your neck and slammed you against the wall, pinning you to it and pressing his rough lips against yours.

You were surprised but welcomed it completely, his other free hand had roamed your body moving to your zipper to unzip it. Once he got it done he slipped his hand past the fabric and underneath the tank top you were wearing below the onesie, he felt your bare boob and squeezed it, moaning into your rough kiss.

It was sloppy and heated. Your teeth had accidentally clashed against each others, he was just so eager and angry he didn't know how to feel or act. The kiss began to get rather spit filled, saliva seeping through your lips and spilling at the corner of your mouths. He groaned into it as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. He was aggressive with the squeezing, never letting up.

Your hands soon wrap around his neck pulling him even closer into you. He breaks the kiss momentarily to catch his breath, his eyes still closed as he does so. He finally removed the hand that was groping your boobs to hoist your thigh up, he gave it a quick squeeze before gripping your neck tighter and craning your neck to the side, he had access to your neck and attacked it. Leaving heavily pigmented marks, he moved fast and claimed every spot he could with his mouth.

He groaned against your skin and breathed in your scent, absolutely getting drunk off of the taste of you. He was in between your thighs and took it as a sign to grind against you, he pushed you more against the wall while he roughly humped you. He groaned into your ear making your eyes roll. The friction felt nice but it wasn't enough for you.

You pushed him away making him scoff in annoyance, he was so sexually frustrated he just wanted to use you to get off. You clouded his thoughts more than hed like to admit and people were always telling him to fuck you so when he was finally trying to you push him away?

You unzip your onesie more revealing your shorts that were beneath, you reach back for him and pull him into you. Izuku was surprised but quickly understood, he grabbed you by your thighs and picked you up holding onto you tightly and he smashed his lips back with yours.

You both moaned into it and let your tongues swirl together swapping each others spit, izuku was so needy he had sat your body down on the sink and pulled you closer so you could wrap your legs around his waist. After you did so he was quick to grind into you again, he rubbed his hard cock against your clothed cunt as roughly as possible.

You could feel him much closer to your heart now, little mewls escaping you. His fingers hooked at the side of your shorts and tugged them down, the second he got them off he moved his kisses down and began kissing your thighs. It made you gasp at the sudden attention, he was staring right up at you through his lashes, moving inward towards your inner thighs licking and sucking all across them.

No words were needed, he knew you wanted him just as bad as he needed you. With nothing needed to be said he began kissing your clothed cunt, eyes rolling at the smell of you. He started sucking the cloth into his mouth trying to get as much of your essence into his mouth before he fully devoured you. He moved you now soaked panties to the side and finally stuck his face into your heat.

Izuku licked sloppily into you, not going into it with much thought just messily eating you. He licked and slurped all that he could, letting his fingers also get some action. He pulled his mouth away to let his fingers tease your slit making you whimper, he loved the noises you made for him. The sounds of your cunt squelching as he shoved his fingers into you, letting them bully their way inside of you. and the little mewls you let out, your hand trying to cover your mouth to not make any nose to catch any attention.

He lifted your leg and placed it over his shoulder and buried his tongue back inside of you, his fingers were still going to work as he made sure to give as much attention to your clit as possible, kitten licking it to tease you. He knew what he was doing and it showed. How did izuku know this much about eating pussy and how to make it feel nice?

Hes only had one other girlfriend that you've known of. You tried to piece together whatever you could but it's like he was trying to get you to lose your mind. He curled his fingers just right making you feel the familiar cook in your stomach turn, everything was coordinating correctly you could feel your high approaching. Izuku knew you were close and wanted you to cum, he wanted to taste your cum so badly. He wanted to be the reason you came.

“ c'mon baby, cum f’me.. get it all over me..”

His speech was slurred, his eyes were slightly rolling backwards as he slurped as much of you up as he could. You came hard on his tongue and fingers yanking and tugging into his hair making him groan into your cunt while licking your clit, he kept eating you despite you cumming the extra stimulation had you shaking and throwing your head back. The moan you let out was too loud you both knew it was, izuku couldn't care though. He finally had you where he knew he wanted you, he had wanted you for so long and hated when people would ask questions about his feelings for you.

Of course he wanted you, of course he wanted to fuck you. He loved you so much and not just as a friend. Not as a 'best friend', more than that. He wanted you to be his and he hated the thought of anyone else having you. he wanted to be so possessive over you. He wanted you to want him.

Izuku took one last lick before coming up, he crawled back up to you and gave you a sweet kiss. His lips and tongue were contaminated with your flavour, you could taste yourself on his lips and didn't know how to feel about it.

You both left the bathroom and hurried back to the group only to find that the movie had long ended, they all looked at the both of you and just snickered and laughed. you two hadn't noticed that you looked a damn mess, izukus hair was messy and your onesie was halfway zipped, you both were out if breath and izuku was extremely red.

“ what?”

“ what...?”

You both questioned in union, everyone just bursted out laughing as you all walked out of the movies. You two hadn't realized how fucked up you both looked so you were just confused. Izuku still couldn't shake what just happened however, he no longer cared about what everyone was snickering about. He'd just eaten you out and you were acting like everything was normal.

Your scent was most likely still lingering on his breath, and you were just acting like everything was normal. Izuku left out a shaky sigh, he had no idea where this would lead but he was glad he got to taste you. He wouldn't mind doing it again either.

Is this what friends do?

AN: this was kinda rushed but I js wanted to get something out

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theemporium · 5 months ago

Note

just another little makeout blurb?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

series masterlist

Luke wasn’t exactly complaining that you were on his lap, but he wasn’t exactly sure how it happened.

It had been a rare day off with no game, no practice and no training requiring Luke to head into the Rock. He had been content to just lounge around the apartment, waving Jack off as he rushed out to grab lunch with some of the other boys in the team. His body was tired and exhausted and he simply wanted a day to just do nothing.

And then you had texted him about having the urge to walk to the smoothie place near his apartment and he had practically tripped over his feet to meet you there.

However, the casual walk was quickly abandoned when Jersey’s unpredictable weather had a downpour drenching you both the second you stepped out of the smoothie shop and racing back towards Luke’s apartment, laughing and clutching onto each other with your free hands until you reached shelter.

And somewhere between giving you spare clothes to change into and trying to find some movie to put on the background, you had found yourself on Luke’s lap with your hands tugging on his curls and he was pretty sure he could die happily right at that moment.

“Fuck, Cherry, baby—” His words were cut off the second you attached your lips to the spot below his ear that made coherent thoughts a little hard to voice.

“Mmm, sound so pretty when I do that,” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin and it made it a little hard to remember what he wanted to say.

“We should be careful,” Luke managed to get out as you lifted your head to look at him. “Jack’s probably gonna be back soon.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me to stop?”

Luke glanced down at your hands now resting on his stomach. He could feel his abs softly clenching under your touch, the sudden urge to rip his shirt off and feel your skin against his becoming overwhelming.

He shook his head.

Your lips twitched. “Words, baby.”

“No, don’t stop,” Luke swallowed, looking back up at you with a dazed look in his eyes that he only really gets around you.

“Couldn’t say no to a face like that,” you mused, leaning down until your lips were brushing his.

He leaned up into embrace, only to let out a small whine when you pulled away. He looked lost, his lips parted and some pathetic beg on the tip of his tongue before you finally leaned down to kiss him.

Luke let out a moan of relief as your tongue licked into his mouth, his hands tightening on your waist before they moved forward to cup your ass.

You could feel the smile on his lips when you moaned in approval.

“S’much better than smoothies,” he murmured between kisses, sounding a bit drunk with his words slurred together.

“Mhm,” you hummed, hands cupping his flushed cheeks as he leaned into your touch. “And what are your trainers gonna say about your smoothie choice?”

“It’s fine,” he said as he flashed you a grin, something so endearing about the sight of him being bashful and happy with his curls a mess and his cheeks burning pink. “Kissing burns calories, you know? This is my workout for the day.”

You snorted. “That was a terrible line.”

“Yeah, but you’re still gonna kiss me,” he retorted.

“Bold, are we?”

Luke shrugged, smiling. “I’m learning. Heard confidence is sexy.”

“Something like that,” you mused before leaning back down to kiss him again.

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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chaptersleftunwritten · 2 months ago

Text

Darkest Desire

Based off of this nonnie request! It’s a bit scarier than intended and I do apologise for that teehee. There’s also no smut…

Blurb: With a group of friends you visit the local Halloween Scare walk, an event that is hosted annually out in the creepy plaines of Hawkins and whilst it’s masks on for the locals, it’s very much masks off for the scare actors…

Pairing: Scare Actor!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, the holiday of Halloween is mentioned, talk of blood/gore, faux blades/knives, cursing, reader is referred to as girl, use of pet names, degrading, praising, stalking (cat&mouse), sly/cocky and slightly mean!Eddie. Characters are all 20+

divider by @reveriesources

Crunchy dry blood orange leaves litter the earth and frost tainted wind nips at your nose and cheeks. The squeals of excited children racing by your costume clad frame fills your ears with immense joy and you giggle airily as they launch themselves into one another. Racing toward the brightly lit luminescent funfair games in hopes of winning a stuffed animal or a goldfish in a bag.

Their parents lug behind them, their attire consisting of some makeshift costume they had thrown together at the last minute in hopes of pleasing their tiny humans and earning themselves a quiet car ride without any tantrums or fuss.

Your group, on the other hand, weren’t here for the childish and conning games. You were all here for the Scare Walk.

You hadn’t agreed on a coherent group costume so it was a pick and mix of totally different genres and ideas and from an outside perspective it was abundantly clear that there was no communication on the matter whatsoever.

Steve was dressed as the main character from Nightmare On Elm Street, Freddy Kruger. Nancy clearly had helped with the makeup aspect of the costume assemble but everything else screamed Harrington. He cropped the stripped knitted jumper to better suit his athletic frame and his hair was still very much classic Steve.

Robin had taken a whole new approach, dressing up as the colourful Rubik’s Cube puzzle toy. Deriving inspiration from the colourful squares she wore a long black jumpsuit covered in humongous reflective and vibrant square sequins. She more resembled a neon glitter ball, but you gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Nancy’s body was hugged by a khaki green boiler suit that had the long legs cut off and on her back she wore a black backpack with some DIY altercations made to it. She has begged Mike to help her create her costume, and that’s how she ended up dressed as a Ghostbuster, putting a strong feminine spin on the male dominated film. You hadn’t expected anything less from Nance, she was always looking for ways to empower women and her costume made you smile. Proud.

Jonathan had chosen a much whackier costume to better fit with his personality. The pungent smell of weed radiating from his body only complimented the fluorescent green costume he was wearing and the radioactive orange bandana blindfolded over his eyes. He had opted for the beloved character from the children’s series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’, Michelangelo. Which shouldn’t have surprised you— but it did.

And finally, you had chosen something distinctively different from your friends. You had made the bold choice to go as a flapper girl from the 1920’s, inspired by Fitzgeralds novel The Great Gatsby. It was a bold move because you paired the costume with kitten heels and although they were small you knew by the end of the night your feet would be crying out for rest. It is a Scare Walk after all. Your body was adorned by glitter and lace and the fringe of your dress tickled at the exposed skin of your legs.

It was a bit chilly tonight, but you were having too much of a ball to really hone in and pay attention to the sharp gusts of wind. Steve and Robin were arguing over whose costume was more original and whilst Robin’s was, Steve always somehow managed to argue himself into being ‘right’.

“Talk to me when you have hand sewn a bazillion sequins onto something and not just took a pair of shears to a ratty old sweater.” Robin remarks with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest and marching ahead of Steve.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it was surprisingly difficult to cut this thing into a straight line— and it isn’t ratty or old, I literally bought it like two days ago.” Steve fires back with a squinted gaze as he follows closely behind Robin’s reflective beacon of light that seems to lead us through the dimness. Nancy grumbles inwardly to herself.

“Can you two stop bickering like babies? We’re here to have fun! So let’s go and do that!” She hooks her arm with yours, charging forward, “I heard that some people from campus are working here this year. I don’t know what they’re doing but isn’t that exciting? We might bump into them!” You admired how Nancy could make a good situation out of everything, however you didn’t quite share her enthusiasm for meeting people you already knew. Nancy was all about making and strengthening connections whereas you wanted to just have fun— judgement free.

And now that you knew that your peers were watching your every move you couldn’t help but feel your confidence shrink slightly and your words clam up. Dying in your throat before they could ever be heard aloud.

The walk started off relatively slow and rather boring. You kept mistaking your dress tickling your calf’s as insects running up the skin of your legs and Robin would giggle at the way your head was constantly shooting downward.

“You seem awfully jittery— is someone scared already?” She taunts, wiggling her eyebrows at you and grinning widely as she did.

You scoff in response, “Please. I’m nearly dozing off back here.”

An eerie dark silence falls over the group and the golden haze from the spooky funfair starts to fade into the background behind you as you venture further and deeper into the doom and gloom of night fall.

The smell of sweet popcorn no longer lingers in the hairs of your nostrils and a sinister chill runs down the back of your spine; like fingers tickling your bare skin.

“Are we sure we are sticking to the trail? It’s getting pretty dark out here— OH MY FUCKING GOD!!” Two little girls dressed in bloody dresses and horrifying makeup charge toward you from a nearby hidden brush. Their eyes glow a disturbing shade of white and they hold faux knives that still look devilishly real. You stumble backwards, nearly collapsing from shock however before you could fall to the ground you feel a hard body hit your back which makes you scream out in terror.

The figure laughs at you, jeering and sharp as you whip around to meet him and your hand is quick to find your chest. Your fingers claw at the fabric of your dress and you fist the fabric with a shaky grip. You’re panting, struggling for breath and the skull painted face looms over you for a moment too long; cocking his head to the side as he examines your costume.

That’s when you realise something. Something that you immediately recognised as a dark secret. A dark desire that should be kept hidden.

As his onyx orbs gleam and glare down at you, you feel a wave of heat feather your cold skin. Your core pulses between your thighs and your mouth hangs open in dreadful clarity; you were fucking turned on by this.

His chiselled face is painted to resemble a bare skull. White with inky dark circles that deepen his eye sockets and his cheekbones are defined with thick blended shadowy lines. His lips are painted black to match his contours and he has hand drawn on a stretched toothy smile and an empty nose cavity.

He doesn’t speak a single word.

He just stares at you. Almost as if he is furious with you.

And before long he drags himself away from you, like the simple task is deemed painful and impossible for him.

His torso is dressed in a fitted white button down shirt which is rolled up to his elbows and it exposes his tattooed forearms. On his legs he wears a simple but professional pair of black trousers paired with black suspenders that sling over his shoulders. On his feet he has combat boots supporting his ankles and some sort of padded device strapped around the joint of his knees.

You gawk at him as he skates across the concrete on his knees at an alarmingly fast rate toward another group of poor people; leaving sparks of light in his dust as they squirm and scream. Some of them even go as far to sprint off into the darkness away from him; which leaves the masked man cackling darkly and running after them.

“Holy shit! I had no idea he would be working here this year!” Steve slaps the palm of his hand onto your shoulder as he chuckles heavily and you pull away from him confused and slightly annoyed.

“Who is ‘he’ and how do you know him?” Steve’s laughter dies out slowly and his hands come to rest on his hips. A stance that he did often. The rest of the gang come to join you with curious expressions on their faces.

“Seriously? You don’t recognise him?” There’s a pause as you shake your head ‘no’ and Steve rolls his amber eyes dramatically, “That’s Eddie Munson, dipshit. He’s always smoking weed out in the courtyard on campus? Playing with the fire from the benson burner during chemistry— is this ringing any bells?” You shrug, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

Is Eddie Munson someone you should know about?

“He has long, curly hair— not better than mine but hey, it’s definitely up there.” Steve’s hand smooths over his slicked back hair that is thick with gel and you laugh, now being able to form an image of Eddie in your mind.

“Ohh, the metal head? He sometimes walks around with his guitar slung over his back?” You reply as you begin to walk off after realising that you have all come to a stand still— and partially because you want to see Eddie again.

“Yeah! He is wicked with a guitar! I’ve seen him play.” Robin chirps from your left and Nancy hums on your right.

“He is pretty good.” Jonathan speaks through a mouthful of candy and you try to disguise your disgust as you unfortunately get a glimpse of the food on his tongue.

“Right…” is all you quietly reply as your eyes scan the bluish darkness. You can hear an owl hooting off in the distance and if it weren’t for the jump scares waiting for you, you would find this promenade quite peaceful.

Crickets whisper conversations from the tall blades of grass and you can see lanterns dotted up ahead of you. They cast ghoulish shadows all around the dirt path and your head twitches from side to side— trying to catch any of the silhouettes moving.

But they don’t.

You have strayed further ahead of the group, their voices hitting your ears in the form of muffled sounds but you don’t bother to wait on them. They are too busy laughing and booing at some of the scare actors whereas your heart is still palpitating at a ridiculous rate from the last scare.

Some of the actors were so gruesomely scary that you felt transported into your favourite slasher films whereas the others were just looming and ominous— more human. Humans are the scariest creatures after all. You fear your own kind in opposition to the unknown.

That’s why when the familiar skull skates over to you on his knees, you freeze this time. No fight or flight; just freeze. Your mouth gaping wide as his nose nearly brushes yours.

“Eddie.” His name is a breathless squeeze from your lungs as it leaves your mouth. You have to say his name aloud in order to ground your thundering heart. Were you excited or frightened? Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Whatever it was, the man stood in front of you wasn’t best pleased. His eyes narrow into irritated slits and his fingers toy with a piece of your hair— twirling it before yanking on it playfully.

Steve, Nancy, Robin and Jonathan all sprint past you in urgency. They screaming until their throats run raw as a deranged man with a faux chainsaw chases after them. Hot on their heels.

You and Eddie go unnoticed by them… and now…

Now you feel afraid.

“Y’know you aren’t supposed to address the actors personally, right?” He sneers through a tight jaw.

“He speaks.” You quip back sassily and Eddie huffs a distorted laugh.

“I’ve seen you around campus— even prettier up close. It’s a shame your attitude ruins that.” He circles you like a shark in water and you follow him. Twirling around makes you dizzy but Eddie’s chuckle makes your dizzier.

“Like a little lost lamb.” He coos, “Where are your cronies? Seems they’ve ditched.” His glove clad knuckle grazes your cheek and you flinch away from his soft touch. Taking a few steps back you widen the close distance between the two of you.

This causes Eddie to grin hugely; showing all of his teeth as he did.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now?” He prowls toward you however you are quick to match every one of his steps. He takes a stride forward? You take a step back.

“You could run away if you wanted… but that’ll only entice me more. Didn’t they tell you? I love the chase.” His voice is a low animalistic growl and you couldn’t understand if this was Eddie or his character talking to you. Was this all an act or was he genuinely this menacing?

“I thought you actors weren’t supposed to get this close to the public…” You hunch your shoulders upward toward your ears as you cower away from his stalky frame and he stares through you; the gears in his head turning.

You shift on the balls of your feet uncomfortably and your skin blazes beneath his intense gaze.

“You’re blushing.” He says matter of factly and suddenly you feel the need to straighten your posture and try to get as far from him as possible.

“I am not.” The lie is pathetic as it meets the frosted air and Eddie smiles eerily.

“It’s the makeup, isn’t it? You like the makeup.” His head strains back on his neck as he lets out a loud laugh, “Fuck— that’s pathetic. You must be into some really weird shit.”

“I- that’s absurd!! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You squeal and slink your arms around your torso. Partially because you were cold but also to be protective and assertive of yourself, “You don’t even know me—“ Eddie interjects, his finger tapping impatiently against his painted lips.

“Shhhh.” You feel the soft grain of his leather gloves as they tickle your skin and Eddie’s hands fully embrace your bare shoulders, “It’s okay— I like your costume too, I suppose.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “I mean, it’s a bit outdated and boring but hey, you look good.” He flashes you a teasing wink that is nearly enough to make your lungs implode with lack of oxygen.

“Goodbye, Munson.” You swivel on your kitten heels and briskly find the frozen dirt path again. Your head involuntarily looks over your shoulder, trying to catch sight of Eddie one last time as you leave him behind but to your total disadvantage the metal head was no longer standing where you had left him.

He too, had taken off.

And unbeknownst to you, you had just pressed play on one of Eddie Munson’s all time favourite games; Cat and mouse.

It was getting later and later with every passing second and you couldn’t find your friends anywhere. You had last seen them run off whilst laughing and screaming in total horror but you hadn’t seen them since.

Had they actually ditched you and went home?

Once the thought infiltrated your psyche you contemplated on cutting the scare walk short and heading back to the funfair to search for them. However, going back meant that you had to go alone and there was something devilish about that.

To your left, through a thick canvas of sweetgum trees you can hear the owl again. Hooting softly— a sound that should calm your nerves but instead it tugs on them viciously. It’s more like an emergency siren warning you. A sign for you to run and to never look back.

A man made whistle slices through the chirping of the birds and it cuts at your skin like the edge of a blade. You look left and right, frantically dancing in circles as you try to determine where it’s coming from; but you are met with nothingness.

“Eddie, if that’s you then cut it out! This isn’t funny!” Your fingernails pinch at your skin as you begin to walk panicked in the opposite direction. Never paying attention to what’s in front of you, your gaze always trailing off to the side and behind you.

That’s when you see him— the skull peering at you from a dark line of trees in the distance. Your feet come to a staggering stop as you eye him. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was Eddie really staring back at you or were you deluding yourself?

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry as you watch him emerge from the greenery. Before your brain can compute what your body is doing you are running; charging into the fullness of the forest.

Tree branches whip and rip at your skin, causing it to redden and sting. You wince but you continue soldiering on, your shoulders barge through sticks and nettles and thorns.

Your mind had convinced you that this was real. That you were being chased by a psycho.

“Hey— hey, stop!! It’s okay! Wait—“ Eddie is close behind you, crunching twigs beneath his boots but you are quicker than he is; more frightened and resilient to get as far from him as possible. For your own safety.

“Sweetheart! Stop!” You can hear him getting frustrated as he trudges through the cluttered landscape but you can see lights shining in front of you, just up ahead, and it causes you to force your legs to quicken. Desperate to reach there.

But just before you explode onto the funfair grounds your legs give way beneath you and you crash to the ground. The palms of your hands scrape against the jagged forest floor and your dress rips against a spiked log. You thought this shit only happened in the movies— but tonight you were proven wrong.

You look behind you and your eyes well up with tears of both pure adrenaline and fear at Eddie propelling himself toward you.

You bring up your hands around your head to protect yourself as you shrink back onto the floor, over the fact that your hair is full of pine needles and your knees are scraped and bleeding.

Eddie crouches by your side, a deep frown on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay…” Eddie bites off his leather gloves and throws them to the soft earth. He is gentle to pry your cold hands away from your muddied face and he hisses quietly at the temperature of your skin compared to his. He examines the palms of your hands tenderly, “Ouch… this must hurt. What were you thinking?”

Your foolishness almost causes Eddie to laugh, but after witnessing the genuine anxiety plaguing your features he decides not to.

“It was too real.” You blubber, letting out a dampened sob and Eddie’s heart pangs with guilt and sorrow, “I couldn’t find anyone and… and I saw you and I just couldn’t think of anything else…”

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere, let me help you up.” Eddie is crouched down, his knees bent as he braces himself in front of your shaking frame. He outstretches his hands toward you and you take them hesitantly.

Thanks to Eddie’s strength he pulls your weak body up to meet his with ease and he hold you against his chest. Breathing softly as he tries to calm your laboured and nervous breaths.

“I really am sorry… it’s just me, ‘Kay? I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” He peppers comforting pecks into your hair and your nails claw at the back of his shirt, “It must’ve been pretty scary; being out there all alone with me.”

You nod, your mind finally calming at the sound of his lulling and gentle voice.

“I do like the makeup.” Your confession is meek and muffled against his chest, “I think there must be something wrong with me.” You laugh, managing to pull away his chest and look at him much more confidently now.

“Not at all,” Eddie grins, “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. Very normal— it might even be considered vanilla to some people out there.” Although you have removed yourself from the skull painted man’s chest, the closeness between the both of you remains the same.

The truth was; Eddie had always admired you. Your intelligence and your cunning. You were beautiful, which was the cherry on top of your infectiously bright personality. He had noticed you at the beginning of the academic year and he was too chicken to talk to you. You both were connected through Steve but Steve never really paid attention to Eddie’s longing and begging looks toward you.

But Steve didn’t have to say anything. Not anymore. Because you could see it for yourself. You could see beneath the intricate paint on his face that Eddie felt something for you. You weren’t sure what it was; lust, a crush or plain friendship but you could see it. Feel it.

“You must think I’m a total freak.”

“You have no idea who you’re talking to, sweetheart. I am the biggest freak to have ever lived.” Eddie lets out a giddy chuckle and his hands continue to rest lightly around your body. You welcome his lingering touch and his nearness. It felt familiar. Nice.

“We both look like weirdos standing out here in the dark.” Your eyes scan around the auburn horizon of tall trees and a soft smile rests on your smudged lipstick covered lips, “People are going to think we’ve been up to no good.”

Eddie smiles, his hand coming to stroke your cheek gently and tuck some of your rouge hair behind your ear, “With how windswept your hair is, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

You both stand there, the air is clouded with electrifying tension and you can’t think of anything else other than how badly you want him to kiss you.

“I wanna take you out… on a date.” His hands cup your face, “When I’m not this caricature. I’ll just be me and you will be you. You won’t have to run from me…” His cold nose brushes the tip of yours, “I won’t have to chase you.” You can smell mint and nicotine on his breath and you have never been more intoxicated by anything in your entire life.

“What’d ya say, sweet girl? Let me take you somewhere nice so I can kiss you properly at the end of the night?” There is a slight desperation to his voice and you bite your lip to suppress a wide smile.

“I’d like you to chase me, Eddie. Chase me with daisies and a boombox and your guitar. You won’t have to run after me for long…” You are dangerously close to him now, your breath quickening as you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. It takes every ounce of self control not to eat his entire mouth with yours, “Take me anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

“I will.” He promises.

“And kiss me at the end of the night?” You are desperate yourself now, your eyes sparkling with moonlight as you look up into his shadowy hues.

“I will.” He strokes your hair so delicately; like you are the most precious thing he has ever handled, “I promise.”

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