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unintentionalseductress · 9 days ago

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Hold Me Tenderly

Warnings: MDNI, sex, angst Summary: When woken up from a nightmare, you and Caleb are forced to confront some uncomfortable truths. WC: 3075 A/n: This week has been crazy. As I've mentioned in an earlier rant, there's more to Caleb than meets the eye and I'm here for it. I've seen a bump in toxicity since his launch, and I just want to take this space to say, please remember this is all FICTIONAL. Let people like who they like and if you have nothing nice to say, scroll on by.

It’s pitch black. You squint, your heart pounding frantically as you try to get your bearings. Up, down, left, right, direction seemed to have lost all meaning. It was dark. And quiet. Too quiet. The unsettling sound of your blood rushing through your own veins adds to the paranoia building inside you.

“Are you looking for me?” Your body jolts at the voice as you look around desperately for the source.

“Caleb?” You call through the echoing nothingness. He sounded so close but where was he?

“Right here. Can’t you see me?” He sounded further away this time. You jog through the void, not even certain if there is ground beneath your feet. Were you actually moving? Or were you stuck in place, wasting effort to run through a medium that couldn’t be traversed?

“Caleb, where are you? I can’t find you!” Your voice calls out, shrill, and panicked into the void.

“Here.” He sounded much farther away now, the faint sound of him disappearing into the dark. You give chase, plunging deeper into the unknown.

“Caleb!”

“Hey.” You’re shaken gently and your eyes fly open, your limbs tangling under the sheets as you thrash to free yourself.

“Whoa, calm down. It’s ok. It’s ok my little mouse.” Strong arms wrap around you and you’re pulled into a tight embrace against a firm, muscled, chest. You swallow, then blink your eyes open. The bedside lamp is turned on, and you feel relief flood your chest as Caleb’s face comes into focus. You sniff, burying your face into the comforting warmth of his skin.

“Nightmare?” He asks softly, cupping the back of your head. You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “It’s gone now. I’m here.” He shushes you, patting your back soothingly.

You’re here, but you’re not here.

The thought enters your mind, unbidden, and suddenly, it’s too much. Your eyes squeeze closed, trying and failing to stop the cascade of tears that form. You couldn’t bear it anymore. Caleb came and went like day changing into night - too brief and without a trace. You hated it. You hated him acting like this tension between you didn’t exist, like the events at Skyhaven had been put to rest.

But most of all you hated that whenever Caleb visited, he never seemed to understand that you wanted him to stay. You had never said he was unwelcome, but he treated himself like an unsavory visitor, only packing enough clothes for a day, before leaving the next.

And you hated yourself for being unable to shake off the question he had asked the last time he had visited.

“Why didn’t you ask me who kept me up all night? Were you afraid I’d say it was you? Or were you scared I’d say it wasn’t?”

Wasn’t the answer to that obvious? Why else would you keep letting this man back into your life, over and over, like a moth drawn to a flame? Simply put, you were now in a precarious state, knowing you could never go back to a world where Caleb didn’t exist. It was infuriating, the way he thought he was being considerate, never overstaying his visits, when it was so plainly obvious you didn’t want him to go. Your heart broke each time he left without asking if there were feelings that went beyond the bond of growing up together.

So you cry, and he holds you tenderly. You couldn’t remember the first time you had both done this, years ago, sharing a bed to avoid facing all the past trauma you’d endured together. But all you knew was that you never wanted there to be a last.

“It’s just a dream baby girl,” Caleb murmurs in your ear.

Your eyes snap open, and through gritted teeth you say, “It’s not just a dream Caleb.”

His hand pauses. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not a dream.” You sit upright, burying your face in your hands, your body racked with sobs, shaking and trembling on the bed. The sheets ruffle and Caleb pulls you against him, trying to console you. He seems to be at a loss about what to say. You take a shuddering breath and it’s like a dam burst inside you.

“You come when you want. And leave when you want. What about me, Caleb? Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want bits and pieces of you anymore?” You look up at him, tears streaking down your face, your heart skipping a beat as his eyes grow wide with shock. You ramble on.

“I don’t know how we got here. And I’m trying to fix it but Caleb…I can’t fix it if you won’t stay.”

You finally admit the things you’d tucked away inside, trying to bury them; now they were crawling out of your throat like ghosts desperate for a rebirth. You swallow, and Caleb grabs the glass of water from the nightstand and presses it into your hands.

“Drink.”

The word is said so firmly that you dare not refuse and you gulp, the liquid somehow helping dull the harshness of the lump in your throat. He puts it back before gathering you close to him.

“You realize that’s the first time you told me I could stay.”

“Well, I’m sorry! I thought it was obvious!” You hurl the words, which get muffled by the wall of his chest.

Caleb huffs. “Well, it wasn’t. And who told you that I didn’t want to stay? I was trying to give you space.” He takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me around anymore.”

Your heart clenches, and your hands tighten on his T-shirt. “Of course, I want you around Caleb. You’re my…” Your voice trails as you realize the term ‘best friend’ rang hollow. He was so much more than that.

Caleb gently leans back so that he can look at your face. He cups your cheek, his eyes gazing at your face searchingly.

“What? What am I?”

The question snaps the coil that had been steadily winding tighter during his stay. Frustrated, you move to your knees, hands springing out to capture his face. Before he can react, you roughly cover his mouth with yours. The kiss is raw, pouring out every moment of rage and loneliness you have felt since being reunited with him. You had never kissed him before, and a momentary flash of worry crosses your mind at the implications but they’re pushed out as you take what you had been desiring for so long.

Caleb groans lowly at the feeling of your soft lips against his but his mind is fighting propriety. “Wait. Hang on, wait baby girl.” Caleb’s large hands catch yours and he breaks the kiss, trying to put some space in between you both.

“Are you sure about this?” Caleb’s eyes are painted with confusion and doubt, but there is no denying the growing darkness at the edges of his irises. Despite everything, neither of you had dared cross that line, the one that threatened to upend your complete understanding of each other.

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Your consent brings forth a growl from his throat, and finally, finally, he claims you back. You revel in the push of his body against yours, the hard muscles pressing against your softness as he wraps both arms around you and you’re crushed under his weight as both of you crash onto the mattress. Everything was fair game now, no qualms asked. His mouth, hot and demanding, finds yours, and your hands anchor onto his shoulder blades, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you than he already was. Everything about him was familiar, yet different.

You’d held his body before, cupped his cheeks, and cuddled him during the bad days, but now, you feel the tension in his body as the boundaries between friendship and something more start to blur. The raging ache in your chest that had been clawing at you since you had left Skyhaven now had a name; possessiveness.

Because he was yours. And weren’t you his? Was it fate that had brought you two together at the shelter after the day of the Chronorift Catastrophe? It hardly seemed to matter but now, the both of you were intricately bound together and you couldn’t figure out where he ended and you started. All that mattered was that he was here.

A gasp leaves your mouth as Caleb rakes his teeth down your lips, nibbling and sucking the soft flesh. Carding your fingers through his hair, you wait until the sting has passed before leaning up to pepper his face with little kisses, causing him to pause as he catches his breath.

“I was afraid you’d say yes.”

“What?” Caleb’s eyes knit in confusion as he regards through the haze in his brain.

“Your question. I was afraid you’d say yes.” Your breath hitches as he cushions your head with his arm, gazing down at you with affection.

“Why?” He murmurs as he dips down to lick and nibble your ear, sending currents of heat down your spine.

“Because Caleb. I’m always afraid. I thought I lost everything during the chronorift. I didn’t want to dare ask for more. Because asking for more means being vulnerable to getting hurt.”

Caleb’s eyes are full of emotion. “I didn’t want to ask you for more,” he admits quietly. “Because I know you are already empty from giving me whatever you have now.”

The room falls into silence and the only thing that can be heard is the hammering of your hearts, pounding in sync with each other.

“Take me, Caleb.” You murmur and his heart nearly stops in his chest. “I can never be empty if you’re here. But promise me you’ll stop leaving the way you do.” Your voice hitches. “I can’t do it all over again.”

Caleb presses kisses to your temples, rubbing your noses together like a puppy and there’s conviction in his voice as he speaks. “I won’t. I promise I’ll never be gone long enough for you to start questioning my position in your life.”

Your hands start to trace his face and he catches one of them, kissing your fingertips and sighing against your palm. The heat between you threatens to consume you whole. When his mouth touches yours, you open and let in his tongue, exploring the taste and wetness. His hands are now bruisingly dug into your waist like he’s steeling himself from going too fast and rough.

Primal instinct pours into his veins and visions of his past fantasies flood his brain; ripping off your clothes while his hands spread apart your legs. How wet you’d feel as he tasted the sweet nectar of your sex before plunging his cock so deep within you that you’d feel for him for days long after it was over. How long had he held back from acting on those impulses?

He grits his teeth as he rolls you over onto him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to control himself having you pinned powerless underneath him. You’re looking at him in a confused daze, then, with a gesture so cute that it almost made him lose restraint, you raise your arms above your head. He leans up, dragging the pajama shirt off your torso, swallowing hard as you reveal yourself to him. Those soft, inviting breasts, the ones he’d imagined for years now, were perfect. He cups them reverently as he presses kisses to your cleavage, squeezing and enjoying the feel of your flesh.

Your body reacts naturally to him, responding so strongly that you feel like you might combust from the rising need gathering in your sex. Your clit throbs within its folds, swollen and delicate, as it waits to be unsheathed. Caleb’s erection was straining against the fabric of his shorts, brushing against your crotch and as he pinched and rolled your nipples between his fingertips, you started to grind against him.

A hiss escapes from him as he looks up at you, crazed with desire, the sight of you rubbing against him pouring fuel into the fire. He sits up, crossing his legs and upsetting your balance before drawing you securely onto his lap. His head dips to suckle, the feel of his tongue and teeth on your nipple sending shocks of pleasure through your system. You struggle against him, finding the hem of his T-shirt and undressing him, amazed at the sight of his bare chest.

You sigh before running your hands over the expanse, his mouth busying itself with your breast again. There was no shame or reluctance as you took from each other. A sheen of sweat covers your bodies as you tease and stroke each other. Every small gasp, whimper, and moan was part of a private symphony, and he was desperate to hear you sing.

You could feel the drip of moisture inside your sex now and were growing impatient from the wait. Your eyes lock with Caleb’s, those smokey, purple irises watching you intently. When your fingertips hook into his waistband, he doesn’t question you, but with a show of strength, braces his palms on the bed and lifts his hips. You slide forward slightly but manage to yank off the garments below his knees, watching his cock spring free from its confines, weeping precum from the slit.

“Fuck. Don’t look at me like that.” Caleb’s cheeks are flushed and his voice is gravelly, a soft rumble of barely contained need. He bites back a moan as your fingers curl around his shaft, squeezing and pumping him tantalizingly, and his hips rock against you as pleasure floods his brain. His hand catches your wrist, stilling you as he tries to control the rushes of arousal that shoot through him. His cock felt painfully hard and your willingness was driving him to the edge.

Without missing a beat, Caleb pulls off your shorts and panties, panting as your wet sex hovers over the tip of his cock, your knees sinking into the mattress as you try to settle back on his lap. He groans wantonly as your pussy, moist and warm, brushes against his engorged head, mixing your essence with his. It felt divine, and your hips start to seek friction, dragging the length of his cock in between your folds, gasping softly into his ear each time it hits your clit.

“That’s right baby girl. Use me. I’m all yours.” Caleb whispers encouragement into your ear and it only makes you want to claim him even more. You whimper as you raise as high as your knees will take you, sliding the slick little bud along his slit, trying to fit it into the little hole that was leaking those milky beads from his shaft.

“Caleb.” Your voice is a whine as your nails dig into his back, dancing so carefully along the ridge so that your clit doesn’t miss any action.

“Oh, that’s it little mouse.” Caleb coos at you while his hands stroke down your back. “My sweet girl. Take what you need.” His fingers indent into your hips to help guide your movements and you feel a similar series of small spasms flutter their way into your core. Knowing you’re close you use Caleb, solid and grounding, as an anchor and hump him with abandon, your breasts bouncing with each movement. You’re both in a trance, broken from it when you feel the tension in your clit suddenly start to feel wonderfully light and sublime. You moan as your climax hits you, continuing to stimulate the little bud on his tip as the rest of the orgasm follows, sending ripple after ripple of hot pleasure through you. Your mouth hangs open as you pant from the exertion, then are caught off guard as Caleb cups your face and kisses you.

While he was occupied with your mouth you raise your hips and ease your fluttering hole onto his length. A guttural grunt spills from Caleb’s mouth into yours as you continue to lower your pussy onto him, taking him further into your slick welcoming heat. His cock throbs as it slips further inside you and he watches your face as you settle to his size. You felt so full, the way his cock filled your inner space, and when he rolls his hips, you cling onto him for dear life. You’d never thought he could feel so good, feel so comforting as his meat thrusts up into you before easing back down.

Your hips start to coordinate a rhythm to his movements, sinking onto him as he pushes up, helping him bottom out each time, and he swore he could see stars forming around him. You were so tight, so inviting, and so unbelievably sexy as you writhed in passion along with him.

“Fuck little mouse.” Caleb’s vision blurs at the edges as he feels himself on the precipice of a climax. “You feel good. So damn perfect.” He chases his orgasm, his thrusts growing more urgent and sloppy as he did so. Your juices coat his cock and start to form a ring around his length, your walls quivering and sucking him further in towards your cervix.

Caleb’s abdomen is rigid and he feels every part of him tensing up in anticipation for a mind-blowing finish. He moans, the noise sexily floating into the air, then holds you tightly against him as he finishes, spilling himself messily into your quivering channel, the thick jets of seed coating your walls white. He doesn’t move, savoring the closeness and intimacy of having you pressed up against him, sated and warm. After a few moments, he maneuvers both of you to lay down, his softened cock still nestle within you as you immediately move closer to snuggle into his chest.

“No more running away. Whatever happens, we’ll talk it out. And I promise I won’t leave you unless you’re screaming at me to get out.”

You chuckle quietly, then kiss his chin.

“Never. Unless you refuse to make your braised chicken wings for me.”

He laughs heartily and both of you feel some of the awkwardness between you ease. It wasn’t going to be easy but you were both determined to fix whatever had been lost. One step at a time, you reminded yourself, before snuggling into Caleb and finally drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6

#ncs #caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb lnds #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace #caleb smut #love and deepspace smut #caleb x reader #lnds smut #lads smut #love and deepspace x reader #lnds x reader #lnds x reader smut #ncs scribbles

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unknownmads · 1 year ago

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PRISON TOJII (he’s so addictive🤭) if he’s so bad then why does he look so good? like that’s literally my baby daddy y’all✊🏼😍 i wrote this kinda quick sorry i’ve been so busy y’all

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

the words rang through your ears having this be the first time you heard his voice, it was deep and rough his ton was teasing you quietly.

Prison Toji who’s eyes track as you reach into your bag grabbing a small notebook and pen. Opening the notebook revealed a page already full of questions you were waiting to ask him. oh how cute you are thinking about him so much just so excited. he’s pulled out of his trance when you finally speak.

“hi toji, it’s great to finally meet you too” your voice soft at first from your original anxiety about the situation. i mean your just here to meet him for your class nothing more. right? you wouldn’t be here because you love reading his letters telling you how pretty you are. how he wished he could take you out properly. Shamelessly telling you how hard he got to your pictures, but he was just flirting he’s a man in a prison it’s what happens.

Prison toji who finally speaks next the seconds feeling like eternity for him. He doesn’t want to have to sit across a table from you he wants you in his lap sitting pretty just how you are now.

“That’s a lot of writing in your lil notebook doll, you been thinkin of me?” this time his tone laced with teasing and smirk displayed on his lips. it draws attention to his scar, you had never asked about it not wanting to push things you shouldn’t, but you can’t help but ask anyways.

“where’d you get that scar?” pointing to your own lip as you looked up at him. a small chuckle escapes him surprised at your bluntness.

“well you’re quick to the questions today. you wanna get a closer look at it?” the gawking look one your face giving you away. with a quick nod you were leaning across the table to get a closer look as he did the same to help you.

Prison Toji who stops you with an almost surprised grunt when your hand reaches up to touch his lip where the scar is

“shit sorry” quietly escapes you as you looked away for a second toji takes this as an opportunity

“you’re okay sweetheart just gonna get us in some trouble if you do that.” his lips next to your ear as his breath brushing against your ear “can’t control myself around such a pretty thing like you.”

Prison Toji whose pants grow so much tighter when he sees how flustered you get from such a simple comment. You turn back to face him, his eyes instantly meeting yours challenging you telling you to do it, see how far it goes, see how bad he possibly is, and just like a moth to a flame you do just that. your hand grazing where his scar is going to cup his face, it was all so fast you could barely process it. he forced himself forward slamming his lips to yours. shock took you first then you eased into the kiss and began kissing back. and then you remembered HES A PRISONER AND THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR SCHOOL.

Prison toji whose ready to snap his cuffs when you pull away. leaning into you as much as he could almost whining when your lips part from his. he sees you shocked and guilt ridden with your finger touching your lips

“whats wrong doll didn’t like it? give me another chance to try again” his body fully leaning to you practically half way over the table.

“im sorry we shouldn’t hav- it wasn’t bad- just we can’t Toji.” your thoughts swirling the world is spinning. Could you get kick out of school? what if someone saw? are there cameras in here? why do i still want to? it’s wrong.

“It’s fine sweetheart no one will know, just you and me i know you want more from the look on your face and the way your sqeezin your thighs. don’t even try to deny it.”

Caught. like a fly in a trap, he’s got you.

Prison toji whose cock jumps when you slide out of your seat and approach him looking to make sure the guards weren’t watching. unknowing to the fact that toji already blackmailed both of them to let him have all the privacy he needed with you. the look in your eyes as you approached was pure lust and need for him.

“your sure we’ll be fine right?” you say as you lean down towards him

“im positive doll i made sure of it.”

Prison Toji who finally snaps his cuffs unable to take anymore. grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap his face clashing with your the kiss is sloppy and full of need. a small sound escaping as he deepens the kiss.

“i’ve been dreaming of this.”

TAGS: @altgojo @nanmiik @kouyoumarryme @imaslothandsowhat @dragonmaiden79 @sircatchungus

SOME OF YALL DIDNT SHOW UP WHEN I SEARCHED IM SO SORRY😭

#feral #jjk toji #i love terrible men #i need him #inmate toji #jjk #jujutsu toji #prison toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x y/n #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #dilf toji #oldermen #older toji

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cherryobx · 8 months ago

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pheromone perfume

pairing: jj maybank x reader

request: Could you write about that one perfume that’s making all men go crazy over their girls, like all clingy but with jj? Thank you (if not that’s fine sorry) 💕

a/n: thank you for the request @m3ntally-unstable! so sorry it took me so long to write! hope you enjoy it! and if any of yall find any typos or smth then let me know im too lazy to proofread lol

summary: you accidentally buy a pheromone perfume and JJ can't keep his hands off of you

warnings: none i think

wc: 0.9k

It was a total accident. You didn’t realise at the time of purchasing that you had bought a pheromone perfume. It smelled good and that’s why you bought it, not paying much attention to the label on the bottle. It was not very strong but it smelled sweet and fresh. Only when JJ started acting weirder than normal did you start to suspect that your new perfume might be the cause.

When it first happened you were in the kitchen making yourself a sandwich and JJ came to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled his glass to the brim with cold water, chugging it afterwards.

“Can you make me one too? Pretty please.” he asks, looking over to where you’re assembling your mid-day snack with his puppy-dog eyes.

“Sure.” You happily oblige. You’re making yourself one anyway, might as well make two. It’s not a problem.

“Thank you.” He kisses you on the cheek and intends to turn to leave and go back to the living room but something stops him in his tracks. You smell different.

He doesn’t understand it at first. You always smell good, good enough to bite. But this is different. He leans in closer, his nose almost touching your neck, and takes a deep whiff.

“What the hell are you doing?”

JJ almost doesn’t register what you had just asked him. His mind is in a whirlwind and his mind is foggy, the only thought in his head is that he needs to be closer to you. He needs to touch you.

“You smell so good.” He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, face pressed to the crook of your neck.

“JJ.”

“Hmm?” He presses small kisses to your neck, behind your ear, on your jaw. He’s so enamoured he can’t get enough of this new scent of yours. It smells like you always do, except somehow stronger and even better. It has enhanced your smell and it’s addicting.

“Are you okay?” The sandwich-making is on pause for the moment and you put down the knife in your hand.

“Mhm.” His mind barely forms any other thoughts than you.

You turn around in his arms and he lifts his head from your neck and meets your eye. He doesn’t waste a second to kiss you. You melt into his touch and let yourself enjoy the moment for a second.

His big hands snake behind your thighs and he lifts you on the kitchen counter, stepping between your parted legs. He breaks your kiss just to move back down to your neck and press even more kisses there, not so secretly smelling you again.

“JJ,” you pant.

He just grunts in response.

“If you want a sandwich you’re gonna have to take your hands off of me for a sec.”

“Fuck the sandwich.”

For the rest of the day he’s unable to keep his hands to himself. He’s constantly touching you, following you around like a dog. He’s being clingier than normal but you don’t give it that much thought at the moment. Maybe he’s just really into your new perfume.

Later you start to think that it’s kind of weird that the day you buy a new perfume he can’t stop touching you. You then intentionally don’t wear the perfume for the next couple of days, instead spraying on your old ones that you’re still so fond of. And even though JJ likes those too, has expressed it many times in the past, he’s not as clingy anymore. Of course, he’s touchy and affectionate like he usually is but not to that extreme degree.

So you put the new perfume on a few days later to test your working theory and JJ’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. It’s like he smelled it from miles away because as soon as he’s at your place he’s almost climbing you like a tree. You called him over for a movie night and you’re on the couch together. Usually you lean against JJ or he has his arm wrapped around you or you’re laying on his chest. But this time JJ is literally smothering you. He’s laying on top of you and his head is resting on your collarbone. Occasionally he presses a light kiss there or on your neck.

“JJ, I need to go pee.” He groans at that. “Can’t you just hold it?” he mutters into your skin.

“That’s not how it works, JJ. Please let me get up.”

He reluctantly rolls off of you, a mopey look on his face. “Can I come with you?”

You’re confused. “Come with me? To pee? Why?”

He shrugs. “Just because.”

“It’ll take two seconds. I’ll be back before you know it.” JJ throws his head back and lets out another groan.

You go to the bathroom, do your business, and just before your hand grabs the door knob you eye the perfume from the corner of your eye, sitting on the bathroom shelf. It makes you wonder. Maybe it really is the perfume. You pick it up and for the first time actually read the label on it. “Pheromone perfume,” you mutter to yourself and then scoff. It’s almost funny.

You return to the living room where JJ has been impatiently waiting for the last few minutes. “Took you long enough. Back to your spot, princess.”

You lay back down and he lies on you once again, but not before pressing a small peck to your lips.

Safe to say you’ll be using your new perfume more often.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank blurb #outer banks #obx

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valentine-cafe · 9 days ago

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m!reader who is MUCH larger than 781 rishen… he soon realizes he has a kink for size difference and he decides to fuck him in front of their mirror, taunting him, ��look at that, baby… my cock reaches all the way up here…” pressing his hand on rishen’s abdomen as he fucks him with slow and teasing thrusts.

making rishen get needy, until he starts playing with his silk slits and nipples to make him cum from that instead of his cock. 😩

˖⁺. ﹙ bottom nerd x top male reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . too big? yeah? thas' it good boy !! 🍒 : hero ˖ moth-spider-mantis hybrid ˖ preppy nerd character﹙ verse 781 rishen. ﹚

you found new pleasure in yours and your boyfriend's size difference, making him whine when you large dick is fucking him too slow, cw: size difference, web slit play, nipple play, edging, tummy bulge

You’d have him spilling all over, pre cum flowing out of his flushed red tip. Agitated and in need for more friction, more stimulation. The noises of the bed creaking below as he gets pounded slowly and teasingly from behind just isn’t enough to get him to where he needs to be.

Oh all of those wonderful little whines he spews when you dig your palm down on his abdomen to intensify the feelings of the large tummy bulge you’re giving him.

“F-fuck— t-too big- Too big”

“P-a-papi- oh my god! ngh”

“Jus-Just fuck me already!”

Your hips slam into his firmly at the last sentence. Fingers feasting away at the flesh below them as they dig in.

“Don’t be a fucking brat.” You groan quietly into his ear and continue the same. Agonizingly slow pace he previously moaned and whined so much about.

It isn’t hard to tell a huff left him, the feel of his back jutting against your chest forced a smirk to appear on your features. Fine, since he wants to play this way, why don’t you do it your way too?

Slowly, the fingers of your right hand begin tracing around one of the particularily swollen silk slits around his inner thigh, rubbing away at it fast, to contrast the pace of your slow thrusts. While your left hand slithered up your boyfriend’s body to tug hard on his nipple piercing.

Yelping, Rishen begins bucking his thighs with the intense feel of your fingers rubbing at a few of his slits. You pull whine after whine out of him when you twist and tug at his nipple, and then. . .

Your right hand moves to grip around his shaft, rubbing just below his tip, where there is a hidden silk slit throbbing and sensitive. Awaiting you.

His vision goes white, while ropes of cum shoot out of him. He hadn’t anticipated how hard he came himself, eyes hapazardly open as he fucked his hips into your hand blissfully as you begin pounding him from behind. Pressing your hands against the tummy bulge to see some more of his reactions.

#﹙ cupcake rush. ﹚: rishen 781 𖹭 ݁#top male reader #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #male reader #monster fucker #terato #monster x reader #hero x reader #hybrid x reader #nerd x reader #oc x reader #x reader #x male reader #reader insert #rishen 781 #asterism

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alalalalaalalalviraaaaa · 24 days ago

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summary: bff!satoru gets an accidental (very) glimpse of your nipple piercing.

yeah. maybe it was painful. maybe it did hurt a lot.

but.... i mean... was it worth it?

hell yes.

but poor you, having no one to show it to. what to do? that could be answered by your search history.

'what to wear if you have a nipple piercing?'

'how to show someone you have a nipple piercing?'

'how to make your hot bff break up with his slutty girlfriend?'

uhh... just ignore that. anyway,

you found your sexiest clothes, as if you were going to wear them out, you're too good for that. you were just gonna take some photos. you change into a sheer lace top and a short black skirt.

damn.

you looked hot as hell. the top showing not too much but not too less. and the skirt looked good with your long legs. you put your stiletto heels on and look at yourself in the mirror. you turned and looked at yourself again. woah...

just as you pick your phone up you hear the bell ringing as you instantly freeze. why now?! you instantly grab onto the closest jacket you have, fuck that's a puffy jacket, for WINTER! you instantly zip it to conceal your slutty top and go to open the door just to be greeted by a white-haired freak.

"Satoru... What the hell are you doing??'' you exclaim furiously at his 6'2 ass at the door. your eyes lock onto his glossy lips before returning back to his cerulean eyes. what were you thinking?! "Damn ma, is it winter in June?" he says smugly, before looking you up and down like those aunts do. "A skirt and platforms heels with that jacket?" he judges again. "Ugh! Just shut up! What are you here for??" you inquire, actually pissed off at his surprise visit.

"Here t'visit ya." he says as if it's nothing.

"Now??" you ask angrily.

"Why, you busy?..." he said in a low voice, before making you back up as your back hit the cold wall.

"What are you doing...?" you mumbled.

he slowly began to unzip your jacket with his tantalizing touch as he gently shrugs it off your shoulders to reveal your top. you softly murmured his name as his eyes widened at the metal peeking out of your shirt.

"You got a piercing?" he asks softly, "Why didn't you show me?"

you laugh casually, trying to mask your nervousness. "Show you? How so?" you grow even more nervous as you notice his gaze locked onto it, like a moth to a flame. he hopes you don't notice the tent in his pants. he came to yours a bit horny anyway, with his girl outta town.

"Like this." he picks your shirt up with your tits bouncin' out.

"You have a girl..." you state half-heartedly, not even attempting to cover yourself, because you want this too. "I don't care, I'd break up with her for you." he said, looking into your eyes, getting your knees weak. "I don't believe you," you spoke, "why did you date her then?"

he looked down, and back up to you and leaned into your ear, just to whisper, "To distract myself from you."

you audibly gasped at his words before he picked you up and took you to your room.

maybe if that teddy bear wasn't in your room, he wouldn't come.

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 2; ghoap x reader) masterlist

The hard part is admitting to himself that he doesn’t know how to function on leave without Ghost’s voice in his ear.

Johnny’s two days into his annual leave when that stray thought crosses his brain. Out with chums even, packed into the booth of an old pub in his hometown, the leather well-worn and a match on the telly that he half watches while one of his mates goes up to the bar to order another round for them. In between his third and fourth pint of lukewarm mild, he thinks something like, wonder what Simon’s up to.

The thought comes and then keeps coming. Keeps cropping up when he least expects. At the pub (wonder what Simon’s up to), in line at the grocery store (wonder how Ghost takes his steak), drowsily puttering around the kitchen while making breakfast (no way he wears the mask at home), listening to some guy in front of him hack up a lung at the dry cleaner (Lt’d do his fuckin’ head in if he was here), and even in the shower with his head tipped back, rinsing out the suds (wonder if he’s got a girl tucked away at home).

Is it so unusual? Johnny can’t remember a time in his life when someone lived in his head night and day, but Ghost’s presence feels like an extension of his own these days. He’s cycled through girlfriends without a care in the world, without contemplating their existence for half as long, but they never cradled his life like a small bird in the palm of their hands and returned it safe and sound, did they?

Still, he feels it like a knot in his chest. Dreams about Ghost even; wakes up hot and hard, and scrubs his hand down the side of his face when he sits up in bed. Phantom memories of a body heavier than his weighing him down (just the duvet) and a thick hand curling around his dick (his own hand wrapped around his shaft, rubbing one out in his sleep).

He shakes it off, but it follows him out into the real world. Looking at the door of a coffee shop and thinking absentmindedly, Ghost would have to duck under that.

Johnny puts it out of his mind. As much as he’s able to, that is. Chalks it up to some kind of hero worship. He’s worked with superior officers before—plenty of times, hundreds of times—but there are few men of Ghost’s calibre, both in skillset and mystique. Not to mention the sheer size of the guy. And what is Johnny if not a moth to a flame?

Better not to ruminate. He casts the memory of seeing Ghost’s dick in the showers after their last mission (monstrous thing, uncut, pubes darker than the hair on his head, more than a mouthful—it’d give him lockjaw) out of his head. Doesn’t think about it. Laughs at a mate’s joke at the pub when he didn’t catch a word of it to mask the way he perked up at the sight of a wide-shoulder man until he turned around, giving Johnny a proper look at his face.

He’s not ready to think about it. Might never be able to really look at why he eats it up, why he struts around with his chin cocked just a bit higher than usual because he knows everyone else is watching him with equal parts envy and curiosity for being Ghost’s favourite.

Then, one day, he meets a girl.

Johnny’s not winning an award any time soon for world’s best son, but he knows a thing or two. The first thing being chocolates and the second being flowers. His sisters handle the rest; they fuss about the party, get a gift certificate to the spa, send out the invites—all that fun stuff. He’s sent off for the bare essentials. Practically kicked out of the house by his oldest sister—nearly brains himself on the asphalt and tugs his windbreaker on when it’s thrown out the door after him a second later, grumbling about being the errand boy.

He picks up a box of chocolates from the corner shop (not fancy enough, his sisters will probably bitch, but that’s a problem for later) before heading down the road to the florist. There’s a bench out front stacked with tin flower vases, the only spot of colour on a dreary spring morning. He spends a couple minutes chatting with the cashier and flirting a bit halfheartedly (he thinks maybe it’ll be worth it if it gets him a discount, even five percent off) until the florist comes out from the back.

“Jesus, who gave ye the right?” Johnny breathes, horse blinders on, vision narrowing on the object of desire coming out of the back in a linen apron and simple t-shirt underneath, scissors poking out of the front pocket.

“The right?” she repeats back, blinking.

“To leave the house lookin’ so fuckin’ gorgeous. Glad I wasn’t driving when I passed you by—woulda been in a twenty car pile up.”

She’s not impressed in the slightest. It’s thrilling. By that point, the cashier is long forgotten. Probably not the best impression he’s ever made, but he’s made worse ones. It’s not every day he comes across an angel. Hard to be polite in front of a real life miracle.

He wears her down over the week though, showing up each day for a new bouquet. His mam’s never liked him more, so at least there’s that. His sisters side-eye him whenever he ducks out of the house to head down the road to the florist’s, but even they know better than to bring it up and risk pissing off their mam. He interrogates her about flowers and her job, makes his presence unavoidable, a week long siege that ends with Johnny taking her out to dinner and then letting her take him to bed.

He wakes up nestled in her cozy apartment above the flower shop, stretching out and making himself right at home. When she trades in her linen apron for a terry cloth robe and stands expectantly by the door, Johnny just grins. Shows all of his teeth.

“Are ye just gonna use me and kick me out?” he pouts. Folds his hands behind his head and digs a foot into the sheets, trying to sink into the mattress. Little king in his castle.

“You know, you don’t have to pussyfoot around with me. Weren’t you just trying to get laid?” she asks, brow arched. The disbelief thick in her voice makes it clear what she thinks of him.

“No’ just some playboy, hen,” he scoffs. “I have feelings too.”

Her other eyebrow lifts. He’s tickled pink.

He plays the part well, he supposes. Lounges in bed and eats grapes all morning while she stares at him from the kitchen like he might dissipate at any moment. He’s used to leaving a false impression, like a lake that someone builds their house next to until years go by and someone says I think this was once a meteor.

When she comes back to bed around mid morning, Johnny wastes no time pulling her up onto the bed until she plants her cunt over his mouth and sinks down onto his waiting tongue.

Candy sweet pussy, he thinks blissfully, then says it out loud because he can never keep his mouth shut. It must tickle because she yelps and nearly pulls away from his face altogether, but he wrenches her back down, fingers digging into her ass cheeks a bit too forcefully. He’ll pay for that later.

In the aftermath, when she collapses beside him in bed and rests her head on his chest while he plays with her hair, he itches in his skin to message Ghost. It perplexes him. They never text, he and Ghost; they don’t call, they don’t write, they don’t email. For all intents and purposes, their relationship ends at the perimeter around base, dissolves to nothing. It’s not Ghost’s fault he trickles into Johnny’s dreams sometimes.

A week goes by. Calm the mind. He thinks of Ghost and his fingers tremble and the phone stays silent and he lets the thought go. Steady. Breathe in and out. His caryatid girl slips in and out of his sheets, hesitant always like he might leave. Johnny doesn’t know if she wants him to, wants to feel vindicated in her assumption, but of all her wants, that ranks the lowest in his mind.

He spirals deeper into it, infatuated. She’s sweet but snippy, candy sweet with a sour kick—everything he’s ever wanted in a girl. Ever unimpressed, watching him with a small, hidden smile, amused despite herself.

Johnny wonders if this is the universe waving its hand in front of his face. Yoohoo, missing something?

He looks pointedly away.

It’s new, but maybe he’s like every other military man in the world, unable to go with the flow, dissatisfied with seeing where things go. He needs instant gratification, everything now-now-now, the certainty of commitment—he spills blood with everyone he knows, so why would his girl be any different?

Returning back to base is harder this time around. The last day of his leave is an exercise in restraint, tempered only by her smile when he sees her off at the door to her apartment, reluctant to leave.

“C’mon, promise me you’ll call, hen,” Johnny mumbles into her mouth, catching her answer with a languid swipe of his tongue. His arms press her tight to his chest, digging his hands into her back pockets and giving a good squeeze, relishing in the way she squeaks. “How’m I gonna survive without ye, huh? They’re gonna have to jumpstart my heart after it gives out from missing ye so bad.”

“So dramatic. You have my number,” she says when he finally pulls back enough to let her speak.

“No, please, baby, please—promise me—”

“Oh my god, alright, fine—I’ll call. Now get going already.”

The drive back to base leaves him feeling bedraggled, lost. When he gets in, it’s straight to the barracks, an hour long nap before reporting to Price, dragging his feet the whole way over. Moping, for lack of a better word, until he rounds a corner and nearly collides with someone that stops him with a single hand on his shoulder.

When he looks up to eyes rimmed in black paint, the world lightens. His shoulders lift.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Johnny.”

It takes Johnny awhile to bring her up with Ghost. Something keeps holding him back, choking him when he tries to say it outloud. He blames it on uncertainty (had to be sure she was the one, Lt, ye ken?) but he feels the truth at the core of him. When he does finally muster up the nerve to pass his phone to Ghost where her photo is front and centre, no mistaking his intentions, he waits on tenterhooks for a reaction.

Only breathes out when Ghost asks to meet her. He can do that.

“Aye, Lt. Just for you.”

#99% chance im gonna edit this to fuck before i post it on ao3 because im trying to properly balance the pov switch #also its not done yet #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost/soap/reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost/reader #soap/reader

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ultravioletrayz · 4 months ago

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KINKTOBER

╰┈➤ DAY FIVE: PUBLIC SEX + EXHIBITIONISM w/ HOMELANDER

Being with Homelander, you've quickly become America's doll. Little girls admire you, men ogle you, women envy you. You embody perfection— a sweet and pretty adornment for Homelander that Vought eagerly showcases to reinforce his heroic persona, while quelling concerns over his volatile nature by presenting you as his anchor to humanity's virtues.

Meanwhile, Homelander finds himself enamoured with your sweetness, a stark contrast to his usual entourage of adoring yet superficial admirers who fall into his orbit like moths to a flame. Though, he doesn't let you know of his smitten thoughts. He's concerned that if you actually knew the power you had over him, over everyone, you would lose yourself to the fame like so many of his other conquests tend to do. And he can't have that. You're just too precious.

Instead, he treats you more like a plaything, a placeholder for the kindness he's supposed to be conveying as a hero. That's why he drags you along to every interview, photoshoot, advert, convention, filming... he needs to flaunt you. He needs to show the world that he's the type of man that can score such an innocent girl, and subsequently portray a sort of gentlemanly image.

That gentlemanly image is non-existent now.

"If you keep fucking squirming, I'll call up some of these pigs to have a turn, huh? Just take it." Homelander grits out against your ear, strong hands keeping your cute dress bundled up as he thrusts into you from behind, the image blown up in size on the big screens around the convention hall. One innocent question is all it took for Homelander's resolve to snap. A mere "why are you so shy?" from a fan directed at you, to which your sweet boyfriend insisted on proving everyone wrong by showing off how much of a cock whore you are.

The audience are all cheering Homelander on with vigour, reeling at the raw display of masculine power. It's degrading, watching hundreds of people through teary lashes looking back at you as your tits bounce and your thighs quiver, your own slick running down your skin for all to see. But some sick part of you likes it. Likes being seen as Homelander's toy. It's fucking exhausting pretending to be so cutsie every day, when all you want is to get your cunt stuffed with some thick, supe dick.

"How about I knock you up?" Homelander groans, hips rutting up into you with even more ferocity at the thought of getting you pregnant, of the changes your body would endure as his potent cum takes over you, makes you his alone.

"Clap if you think I should give America's sweetheart a baby!" Homelander calls out, balls grinding against your sopping pussy as he gets off on the applause of his adoring fans, almost cumming right then as he observes the uproar of encouragement.

"You heard them, honey. Gotta give the people what they want, don't we?"

eughhhh

#ultravioletrayz #homelander smut #homelander #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys series #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander fanfiction #homelander fic #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #𖤓uv-c𖤓

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obliviouscxnt · 1 year ago

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Control Azriel x Reader

a/n: I'm so lost, i don't know what I'm doing. Still learning how to use tumblr but in the meantime, welcome to the first fic i feel like posting.

synopsis: feyre's growing curiosity about you sparks some personal questions.

Warnings: mentioned SA, fluff, hints of sexual activities

pt.2 | pt.3

One of the first friends Feyre made in the Night Court was you. You reminded her of the twin wraiths in a way. Never saying much, if anything at all. Maybe that was one of the reasons she liked you so much.

You didn’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s presence. Feyre had as much fun sitting in silence with you as she did on a night out with Mor.

But as time passed, as Feyre became a constant in the Night Court, she had grown curious. She wanted to know more about you like she did the others.

So she started asking you questions, and to her surprise, you would answer her. Your answers weren’t clipped, or vague. You never sounded annoyed with her, you were completely open and honest with her.

“How long have you known everyone?” Feyre had asked while you gently played with her hair, her scalp tingling at your touch.

You thought about it for a moment. “Over two hundred years now.”

She tilts her head, so apart from her you were the newest member of the inner circle. “How did you meet?” She asks, shivering as the tingles travel down her spine.

You start braiding a few small strands from the front of her face as you speak. “My kind are far different from other Fae.” Feyre practically perks up at the words. She knew you weren’t high fae but she never bothered saying anything about it, she barely even noticed it most of the time not nearly enough to warrant a discussion. “They hail from no court, and bow to no lord, not even the Mother is with their thoughts.”

Feyre tried to imagine what that would be like, how they would act, what traditions they’d carry. She thought of your features, the ones that stood out among other high fae. Your ears didn’t point, your nails were like claws, and your teeth bore long sharp canines on both the top and bottom of your mouth, but the features that stood out the most were the ones you kept hidden.

Feyre saw them once, your wings. The first time she met you. Like they were just there for a formal introduction. They were big, beautiful, and intricate. They looked like moth wings, and fluttered like them too. Opening and closing slowly when you were lax.

Immediately when Feyre saw them, she felt like painting again, she could barely keep her eyes off them, barely keep herself from reaching out a hand to touch them. Maybe that was the reason for their absence in the next visit; all that remained of the glorious appendages was precise ink that lined the whole of your back, a tattoo of folded wings.

From the way they folded, they almost formed a natural cape. She wondered how far your tattoo ran, the extravagant fabrics of the dresses you wore only showed so much.

She pictured a whole colony of people that looked like you and immediately felt like painting again.

“It’s why nobody can do anything about their backward ways, they listen to nobody but themselves. Believe no one but themselves.” All preconceived thoughts of your people turn sour with your words.

“The things they’ve done, they still do…” You release a shaky breath as you finish the small braids and set them aside.

Feyre turns to look at you when your delicate hands part with her hair. She finds you sorting through a box of hair ornaments, but your eyes are clouded. Not even the most glorious of diamonds could shine through that fog. “You don’t have to...“

You blink out of your daze and wave her off as you pull out a few gem-encrusted pins and show them to her. Waiting for her to give you a nod of approval before pulling out a stunning bejeweled silver comb and repeating the same process. Your collection was truly marvelous.

“When I was saved, it was my first Flowering Night.” You spoke the words with barely concealed bitterness. “A night where all mature unpaired females are sent into the woods for any participating males to hunt down and take as they please.”

You tuck back the small braids with the sparkling pins. Feyre listened as you continued, she wanted to say something but what would she say?

“No one could run very far from our community, the woods of the Middle hold no mercy. It was either hide and hope you make it till dawn without being spotted by a male. Or die to the other horrid creatures that live in those woods.”

Feyre’s heart ached for you, her sorrow a tangible thing able to be smelt in the air. And you squeezed her shoulder, you comforted her. Her sorrow only increased. You never deserved any of it.

“I chose the latter.” You carefully place the comb into her hair, finding it in yourself to smile at the final product. You still fiddle with a few strands until you feel pleased. “A close encounter with death led to the discovery of my gift,”

Dreamwalker, Rhys had called you. An ability so rare even Helion’s exquisite library had very little information on it.

Feyre loosely understood that you could enter another person's dream. Could manipulate it as you wish, to serenity or to a blood-curdling nightmare. But what made you so powerful, what made you such a valuable asset to the Night Court was your ability to bring dreams to life. All manner of dreams.

However, your ability was sparsely used for court matters, and only necessary people knew of it. You were their trump card. Something nobody would see coming.

Feyre would never forget the time you had a nightmare, sending half the court in preparation for battle. She’d also never forget the way Azriel had fought off the nightmare incarnate to get to you. How he charged forward without an ounce of hesitation. While Rhys had stood protectively in front of Feyre, and Cassian’s siphons flared from beside her, providing a shield around them.

Feyre had realized then that Azriel would go to hell and back for you.

Feyre turns to face you, to look you in your enchanting eyes now that you are finished playing with her hair. “I was barely a woman, I didn’t know the first thing about defending myself. I didn’t know what this gift was.” She watched you raise a hand, small stars forming and trailing your fingers, blinking and shimmering as you played with them. “What good is a gift this powerful if you don’t know what to do with it? It’s as good as a broken blade.”

Feyre’s breath leaves her body when you pull down the shoulder of your elegant emerald gown, revealing a long jagged scar running diagonally across your chest. The skin puffed up from how deep the gash was. “I would’ve died if it weren’t for Azriel.”

The high fae’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

“He heard me screaming. And he came for me.” You pull the shoulder back up and smile. Actually, smile. Feyre had never known someone like you, someone able to flip such a horrid memory around. Someone so able to pick out the good amongst the bad. “It wasn’t until a century later that I finally accepted his invitation to the Night Court and met everyone else.”

Feyre found herself grabbing your hand and squeezing. So grateful you had accepted his invitation.

You squeeze back.

“You’re so strong.” Feyre says, furrowing her brows when you laugh like she had told a joke.

“It wasn’t strength that led me here, Feyre.” You tell her. Once again she wanted to paint you, but she felt like she wouldn’t be able to do you justice. “It was fate.”

A knock sounds at the door.

“Come in.” Feyre calls and you both look to the opening door. Two incredibly attractive Illyrian men stand at the doorway.

Rhys smiles at the sight of you two, eyes raking over the hairstyle you’d given Feyre. “You look lovely, Feyre darling.” Her face heats as you smile in triumph.

“Say goodnight.” Comes Azriel’s voice in that tone he only used on you.

You obey his command without a second thought, giving Feyre a light hug and giving Rhys a small bow before scurrying toward Azriel’s waiting arm.

You fall into step with him as his hand lands on your lower back. But before the two of you could disappear you tug on his shirt, prompting him to stop only long enough for you to turn back toward Feyre and say a final goodnight. “Dream well Feyre!” Then he continued leading you away to your shared chambers.

The mated pair watch you two travel away. Rhys with a look of content for you and his brother. Feyre with a new curiosity.

She couldn’t help but be curious about the dynamic you and Azriel had. The way that dynamic bled into the interactions you had with your friends. How you always asked for permission before doing something and always jumped up whenever anyone asked you to do something. Rhys seemed to catch on to that curiosity.

He decided to save you the embarrassment of Feyre asking you herself. He had enough of an understanding of you to know when something would make you uncomfortable, no matter how much you said otherwise.

You’d always answer any questions asked of you openly and honestly, whether you wanted to or not. It was one of the reasons many were at first against your visits with Feyre, himself included. The newly turned fae was far too oblivious to your situation to recognize when she was taking advantage of your obedience. But you assured Rhysand repeatedly that Feyre never bothered you with her questions. That you enjoyed her presence just as much as she, hopefully, enjoyed yours.

Much to everyone’s delight, Feyre regarded you with gentleness and awe from the very start. It was the effect you had on people. It was the reason Azriel didn’t put up a fight about leaving your visits unsupervised.

“[name] was raised by cruel people, they taught her that in a relationship the male's word is law. Her people think a female is expected to give up any and all control to her male. It’s one of the few things she never was able to condition herself out of, Azriel helps her by providing that control she needs.”

Feyre thinks about that, face heating at the images it created. She wondered what that would be like, to surrender herself completely. “So if he told her to jump off the nearest bridge��?”

“She’d do it, with zero hesitation.”

Rhys smirks, knowing glint in his eyes as his gaze runs over the blush that coated her face.

“But he’d never ask something like that of her. He knows her inside out, knows when something is too much or not enough.” He steps closer to her, delighting in the way her breathing picks up. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think your interest in this topic was more than innocent curiosity.”

“Well, do you?” Feyre asks, making his eyes narrow. “Know any better?”

Rhys’s gaze becomes dark. “Nope.”

****

“Did you enjoy your time with Feyre?” You sigh at his voice, the comfort it brings you. You find yourself leaning into him, and he allows it.

“It was nice.” You say truly. It felt like it was easier to breathe now that Feyre had more of an understanding. “She asked about how we met.”

The hand on your back pulls you closer to him as if he were remembering that day. Remembering what you looked like as that hideous creature held you down, slicing into you. The way you flinched away from him after he’d slayed the creature. The sheer dress that you wore, If it could even be called that. He could still picture everything so vividly.

How you eventually submitted to him, and how that made him sick. How he carried you out of the Middle and into the lands of the Night Court, never taking you into the cities. How for the next century after that he would visit you at the little private cabin only he and his brothers knew about, how he took care of you, and how he grew to love you. How you grew to love him in return.

He shoves those thoughts into the back of his mind as he opens the door to your shared chambers, walking you inside before shutting the door behind you.

His hands move to your shoulders while he guides you to sit on the edge of the large bed, big enough to fit at least three winged beings. Hands brushing down your body as he kneels before you, settling on your ankle. He brings your foot up and rests it on his thigh before slowly unraveling the straps of your heel. Once finished he continued with the right heel, his touch nothing but confident from years and years of practice.

A hand pats your thigh, letting you know he’s finished. Your eyes trail him as he heads toward the bathroom, you’d be happy to just look at him for the rest of your immortal life.

You help Azriel, though he had no problem doing it for you, by taking off your jewelry one by one, setting each extravagant piece on the nightstand. By the time you're done Azriel’s waiting for you next to a full bath.

“Come.” He beckons from beside the large clawfoot tub. Hand outstretched and waiting for you.

You saunter toward him, sighing as you let your brain just rest. Let him do everything for you.

His hands are strong, and gentle, and secure all in one as they guide you out of your gown, his clothes following not long after. You sigh as he brings you into the tub. Positioning you so you sat between his legs, back to his front.

Your eyelids slowly fall shut, coaxed by his soothing touch. Feeling nothing but content when he pushed your head back to lay on his shoulder, a gentle kiss pressed against your temple.

You were soon in a state of barely there, just teetering on the side of sleep but awake enough to move when he told you to.

“Lean forward.”

His hands rub up and down your back, cleaning and massaging the skin there. You shudder in pleasure and he hums soothingly. Like cooing at a pet. You straighten up a bit when he taps the marked skin a few times, moving forward just enough for your wings to slowly peel away from your back. What was once ink on your skin, now real moving wings.

“Spread.” And you do so, wings unfolding and stretching out completely.

You shiver as his hands brush against them, making them twitch both away and toward him. As if they couldn’t decide whether the feeling it brought you was too much or not enough.

As always Azriel handled them with utmost care, humming when small noises of pleasure escaped you. When he was finished he tapped your shoulder to let you know, but you were too tired to summon the magic needed to conceal them.

Though, not tired enough to remember it was his turn.

Slowly with lethargic movements, you turn to face him. Wings folding up again, forming a natural cape on your back. “Can I-“ You begin but catch yourself before you can finish. His narrowed eyes crinkled into a smile. Happy he no longer had to remind you of such a simple fact.

Don’t ask to touch what is yours.

So instead you reach for the soap in his hands and begin to wash him. Taking satisfaction in the way his wound-up muscles, tense from hours of work, relaxed under your touch. The way his hands rested on your hips, squeezing every now and then appreciatively. The hums that left his mouth, no longer with the intent to soothe you but to let you know how pleased you made him.

Your touches became increasingly distracted, sleep slowly leaving your system as your mind filled with nothing but him.

He smirks, a mix of amusement and attraction. Allowing his own touches to become less innocent. His hands move to wrap around your wrists, dragging your hands down, down, and down his body. Soap long ago discarded.

“Touch me.” He commands.

And nothing could keep you from satisfying him.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron

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prythiansprincess · 1 year ago

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the crush theory.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: london boy by taylor swift.

author’s note: this is just a cute indulgent coffee shop! au with my sweetheart enzo. majorly inspired by all the boyfriend vibes louis has been serving with miss olivia lately. let’s not even talk about the ass grab with his big hands and rings…🫣

Enzo Berkshire never quite managed to master the language of love.

Despite being a polyglot and a linguistics major, romance remained a complete mystery to him. It wasn't like he could craft a conjugation chart to help him not make a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams. When it came to matters of the heart, Enzo often found himself at a loss for words. Perhaps that was the reason why he never mustered up the courage to speak to you.

Until that one fateful fall morning.

The kiss of autumn arrived on campus a few weeks into the semester, freeing the city from the grips of the summer heat and bringing with it the changing of leaves and the distinct scent of cinnamon and apples. Enzo shoved his hands into the pockets of his burnt orange corduroy trousers and savored the sound of the jewel toned leaves crunching underneath his loafers. As the wind picked up, he wrapped his chunky knit cardigan tighter around himself to shield against the chilly breeze.

The ivy covered brick buildings and cobblestone streets faded into the background as he walked past the quad. Deja Brew, the little hole in the wall cafe that Enzo frequented, greeted him like an old friend. The coffee shop was located on the outskirts of campus and was only a short walk from his dorm, which made it the ideal place to conduct his tutoring sessions. Not only was it convenient, but the cozy and quiet ambience provided the perfect setting for Enzo to teach his fellow struggling students.

As time went on, the choice of location became less about convenience and more about catching a glimpse of you—the surly barista that worked the morning shift. For the past few months, Enzo developed a rather embarrassing crush on you. There was something about your scowl and no bullshit attitude that drew him to you like a moth to a flame. Though in his case, Enzo was perfectly content to hover a safe distance from the proverbial light of your fancy French cigarette lest he get burned.

Upon first glance, anyone would have been intimidated by you. With your faded band tees, ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots, Enzo was well aware that a girl like you would never be interested in a bloke who's wardrobe consisted of sweaters with elbow patches, floral print button downs, and neatly pressed pleated trousers. Needless to say, you were way too cool for him.

Enzo was resigned to merely admiring you from afar, but fate seemed to have other ideas. The bell above the door tinkled softly as he made his way into Deja Brew only to stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you at the register. Usually, you were behind the bar manning the espresso machine during the early morning rush, but not today.

Today, you were front and center.

Part of him considered walking out the door, but given the fact that the shop was nearly empty, a hasty exit would definitely not go unnoticed. Enzo had no choice but to suck it up and approach the register with resignation. The minute he opened his mouth, he was sure he’d muck things up.

Enzo swallowed thickly and pushed his round framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose; a nervous habit he developed when he was younger. The erratic beat of his heart echoed in Enzo’s ears as his gaze flickered up to your face, expecting to be greeted with a frown. To his surprise, your lips curved into a small smile once you spotted him.

“Lemon balm tea with two pumps of peach syrup and a dollop of honey, right?”

Enzo blinked at the melodious sound of your voice, nearly missing the fact that you’d recited his exact order, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the fact that you’ve been making it for him for months. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside as you looked at him expectantly. He stared in stunned silence for a moment.

You furrowed your brow in doubt. “Did I get that wrong?”

“No, no, it’s right. It’s great. It’s perfect—“ Enzo cleared his throat, mentally kicking himself for rambling. “I’m just surprised that you remembered it.”

“Of course I remember it, you’re one of my regulars. I’d be a pretty shit barista if I forgot your order.” You cocked your head, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, do you want your croissant warmed up, Lorenzo?”

“You know my name?”

Enzo hadn’t meant to sound so starstruck, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his heart skip a beat.

“And your social security number too,” you deadpanned. Enzo’s eyes widened, which made you chuckle. “I’m just having a laugh. I promise I won’t commit identity theft against you. Unless you piss me off.”

You accompanied the statement with a cheeky wink, which only made Enzo even more nervous.

"Don't look so nervous, peach. I swear I don't bite."

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he stammered. “The tea and the croissant sounds good, Y/N.” The realization that you’ve never told him your name came a beat too late. “It’s on your chest. The name tag, I mean. I wasn’t just staring at your chest. Though I’m sure it’s very nice. Bloody hell, I’ll stop talking now.”

Enzo cringed at himself, but eased when you laughed. “You’re a strange bloke, Lorenzo.” You said as you began making his drink. “But I’ve got to admit, it’s oddly charming.”

He chuckled, trying to hide the flush coloring his cheeks. “That seems to be my sweet spot.”

"As sweet as peaches," you retorted as you added two pumps of peach syrup into his tea. "You'll have to excuse the fruit references. Before I knew your name, I referred to you solely as the peach guy."

"Is that good or bad?"

Enzo hiked his backpack over his shoulder and meandered down the end of the counter where you were topping off his tea with a dollop of honey. You swirled it into a heart pattern before sliding the warm cup into a sleeve.

"Well, I've never met anyone who's preferred drink could constitute as a dessert, so it's certainly something. You're an enigma, Lorenzo," you said thoughtfully. "Though I think I like peach better. You don't really strike me as a Lorenzo."

“You can call me Enzo. I prefer it over my full name. It sounds so stuffy.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” you said with a smirk. “Enzo. I like it. It’s rather becoming. Not stuffy at all.” He chuckled as you handed him a brown bag. "I might still call you peach from time to time. Force of habit. You understand, right?"

"Of course," Enzo replied. "El loro viejo no aprende a hablar."

"You kiss your mum with that mouth, peach?"

Enzo flushed. "It's Spanish for the old parrot does not learn to talk. Basically their equivalent of you can't teach an old dog new tricks." He shifted his weight onto his other foot. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't mind if you call me peach or Enzo or whatever else you'd like."

"You're giving me way too much freedom, Enzo. I intend on taking full advantage." You winked as you slid his drink over to him. “Enjoy your croissant. I put a little something extra in there for you.”

Enzo peered into the bag and saw an extra pastry wrapped in black cellophane next to his croissant. The brownie didn’t look like any of the ones behind the counter, which meant that it was probably homemade. Strange, he wouldn’t have pegged you for a baker.

“Oh, you really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” you countered, waving off his protests. “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’s an experimental recipe of mine, which makes you my guinea pig. As payment, I expect a full report on the brownie tomorrow morning. Don’t hold back either, peach. I want a brutally honest review.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Enzo said in reassurance. “In any case, your guinea pig will take ample notes.”

“That would be much appreciated,” you said with a serious nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Enzo-not-Lorenzo.”

Enzo couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

Enzo rubbed his temples, willing the headache forming behind his eyes to vanish. Unfortunately for him, his last tutoring session with Flint seemed to have left a permanent mark. While Enzo usually enjoyed teaching French, Marcus was proving to be a rather difficult case. Not only was Flint unwilling to do the work, the knobhead also spent the entire session leering at you instead of studying the conjugation chart that Enzo poured his blood, sweat, and tears on.

“Merlin, I have no idea how you deal with rich, smarmy arseholes all day.”

Enzo looked up to find you seated across the table, sliding a sandwich, a fruit cup, and a bag of crisps towards him without missing a beat. He hadn’t even realized it was already an hour past lunch until his stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

“One could argue that I’m also a rich, smarmy arsehole,” Enzo countered, picking up a grape and popping it into his mouth with a slight smile. “Yet you seem to have no problems dealing with me.”

“Yes, well, everyone knows I’m just using you for your body. Specifically, your taste buds.” Enzo shook his head in amusement before taking a bite out of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly, his favorite. “Besides, how else am I supposed to learn new insults in different languages if I hadn’t met you? Speaking of which, I believe I’m completely justified in saying that Flint is a total gehirnverweigerer.”

“Marcus isn’t so bad. He just needs a bit of a push,” Enzo replied rather unconvincingly.

“If by a push you mean my boot against his arse, then I wholeheartedly agree.”

“The French have this saying, petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. In English, it roughly translates to: little by little, the bird builds its nest.”

“Except Flint isn’t a bird, he’s a twat,” you deadpanned. “The bloke was too busy staring at my arse to even pick up a lick of French. To think, you even made this cute little chart and everything. You have the patience of a saint, Enz.”

“One of us has to,” Enzo replied as he tore open the bag of wotsits. “Given your proclivity to violence.”

“Don’t make me take your crisps away, Lorenzo.”

Shielding his wotsits from your vengeful wrath, Enzo flashed you a saccharine smile. For good measure, he even batted his pretty honey eyes at you. The audacity. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the whole entire world?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Berkshire. Now finish your lunch or else I’ll be very cross with you.”

Enzo smiled to himself, wondering at the fact you were complete strangers until a few weeks ago. Ever since you gifted him with the best brownie he’s ever tasted in his entire life, he became your designated taste tester. Every morning, Enzo would start his day off with his usual lemon tea and whatever new pastry recipe you had chosen to tackle that week. Between the scones and muffins, Enzo learned that you intended on opening your own bakery after uni. Hence, his very important role of reviewing your recipes.

Granted, Enzo didn’t know how much of a help he actually was given the fact that he thought everything you made was amazing. Still, the novelty of finding a fresh pastry in his bag with a handwritten note from you never failed to brighten his morning. Especially since you signed each one with a crimson kiss print that made him blush every time he laid his eyes upon it. It was safe to say his crush had only gotten worse the more he got to know you.

As you settled behind the counter to help with the afternoon rush, Enzo attempted to get some work done before classes started for the day. With finals fast approaching, he was caught up on making sure he had everything in order. It wasn’t until Enzo heard a familiar voice when he finally tore his gaze away from his laptop screen.

Enzo froze as he watched one of his best mates saunter up to the counter. Even from his seat by the window, he could tell that Mattheo was flirting with you. In hindsight, his friend seemed exactly like the type of guy you would go for. The broody bad boy who probably listened to all the obscure bands that you often talked to him about. As Mattheo directed his smoldering gaze at you, Enzo thought he might be violently ill.

Squinting across the coffee shop, Enzo angrily shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to keep himself from strangling his curly headed friend.

In a tone that was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, Mattheo drawled a question at you. “What’s good here?”

You stared at him pointedly before waving a hand towards the menu. “There’s coffee, there’s pastries. It’s really not rocket science.”

The deadpan delivery combined with the utterly unenthused expression on your face nearly made Enzo snort out loud. It might’ve been an arsehole move to rejoice at Mattheo’s fumble, but he found it immensely satisfying that you seemed to be immune to the infamous Riddle charm.

“A bit feisty today aren’t we, love? I just wanted to see what the pretty lady behind the counter recommends.”

Enzo watched in amusement as you slipped on your signature scowl, the one that made him fall for you in the first place. “The pretty lady recommends that you stop holding up the line so she can get to the other customers who actually know what they want.”

Hiding his smirk, Enzo feigned surprise as a dejected Mattheo plopped down across from him. “Merlin, that was brutal. Is the barista always this mean? I complimented her pins and she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head.”

“Y/N isn’t really a people person,” Enzo supplied.

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo tapped his fingers on the counter. “Let’s just get to class before I embarrass myself any further.”

“That’s probably for the best,” replied Enzo.

Ignoring Mattheo’s glare, Enzo packed up his laptop and put his tray away. He followed his mate through the throng of people, which had thinned out once more. They were a few steps away from the door when you called out his name. With a raised brow, you held out a pink box. Enzo smiled sheepishly in return. He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten the dessert of the day.

“One lemon berry scone. Less tart, per your critique last week.” He took the box from your hands, blushing furiously when your fingers brushed against his. “Have a good class, peach.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll have your full report ready tomorrow.”

“You better.” Enzo nearly dropped the box when you winked at him. “Later, Berkshire.”

Smiling to himself, Enzo came face to face with a gaping Mattheo. “For Salazar’s sake, it’s like I don’t even exist.” He muttered before breaking out into a grin. “No wonder my moves had no effect. Mate, she obviously fancies you.”

Enzo’s cheeks immediately heated as he pushed out into the quad. “What? No. Y/N and I are just really good friends.”

“Now I understand why you come here so often,” Mattheo remarked. “If the mean hot barista plied me with baked goods and called me peach, I’d be coming here every day.”

“It's an inside joke about my drink order..." Enzo tried to explain. "The point is, Y/N isn’t mean. She’s actually really nice.”

“Yeah, because she likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Does too.” Mattheo countered. “Why else would she bake you a scone?”

“She wants to own a bakery someday. Obviously, that means she needs someone to test her recipes out on,” Enzo explained. “It’s how we became friends.”

“Right,” Mattheo said with a shit eating grin. “Friends.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Can we just please get to class?”

“Whatever you say, peach.”

“I have a theory,” Mattheo announced.

Enzo sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Not this again, mate.”

The rest of their friends perked up, abandoning their laptop screens and textbooks in favor of the newest piece of gossip. The little corner of the library that their group had claimed was fairly quiet, which was supposed to be optimal for revising, but Mattheo couldn’t seem to let his conspiracy theory go. He'd been badgering Enzo about it for a week.

“Berkshire here refuses to believe me, but I have it on good authority that Y/N has a crush on him.

“Y/N,” Theo started, “You mean his mean barista friend? She’s proper fit.”

“Don’t call her fit,” Enzo replied rather defensively.

“A little touchy there, Berkshire.” Regulus said with a chuckle. “Is that jealousy I sense?”

“For the millionth time, Y/N and I are just friends.”

“Is that the same friend that makes all those tasty pastries for you?” Draco asked with a raised brow. “I’ve seen the cute little notes she leaves for you posted all around your dorm. With the adorable kiss prints and hearts. Seems to me like Mattheo’s right. Y/N’s sweet on you, cousin.”

“Do me a favour and stop being a snooping twat, cousin.” Enzo retorted with a frown. “Y/N’s just being nice. It’s what friends do.”

“None of my mates have ever gone out of their way to bake me a bloody thing,” Blaise declared in feigned offense as he wrapped an arm around Pansy.

“Yes, well, none of your mates even know where the oven is located, let alone how to operate it,” replied his girlfriend. Pansy smiled at Enzo. “Besides, I think their friendship is sweet.”

“Thanks, Pans.”

“So you don’t fancy Y/N?” Theo asked. Enzo opened his mouth then closed it. He was well aware that his friend was baiting him, but he refused to fall into Theo’s trap.

“Like I said, we’re friends.”

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked for her number, right?”

As a matter of fact, Enzo did fucking mind. He minded very much. Too much, probably. But he couldn’t very well say that out loud. Instead, he masked his scowl and returned his attention to revising.

“Knock yourself out, mate.”

Theo smirked. “Alright then, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Enzo asked disinterestedly, flipping through his study sheet for Latin.

“To Deja Brew,” Theo replied smugly. “We all need a study break, anyways.”

“You want to go there? Right now?” With each question, Enzo’s death grip tightened on his notes. “To ask for Y/N’s number?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right? In fact, maybe you could introduce us.”

Enzo would rather walk on hot coals. “I think I'll pass. I've already seen her turn Mattheo down and that was brutal enough as it is. I don’t need an encore.”

“Riddle’s probably not her type.”

Mattheo frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m everyone’s type.”

Theo chuckled. “Apparently not hers. Perhaps she’d prefer a handsome Italian, no?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “In your dreams, Nott.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” exclaimed Blaise. “I’d never miss an opportunity to witness Theodore get humbled. Are you sure you’re ready for a woman like Y/N, Nott?”

“Please,” Theo scoffed. “I was born ready.”

Against his will, Enzo found himself at Deja Brew ten minutes later. In his usual corner by the window, he brooded like a petulant child. This was a horrible, terrible, and idiotic idea. All he wanted to do was revise and now his study session had been hijacked just so he could watch Theo flirt with the girl he fancied.

“You know, you can put a stop to this any time you’d like,” Mattheo said in a sing-songy voice. “Just admit that my theory is right. Y/N has a crush on you and I’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual. Isn’t it, Berkshire?”

Enzo crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Instead of giving into Mattheo’s childish pursuits, he opened his laptop and pretended to be immersed with Russian translations.

“Have it your way, Enzo.” Regulus declared, nodding towards the register. “Nott’s about to give us a show.”

As irritated as he was with his friends, Enzo couldn’t tear his gaze away. Theo marched up to the counter with swagger and confidence, slipping on his signature smirk. You looked up from your phone screen, giving the tall and lanky boy a sweeping gaze. The unenthused expression on your face screamed that you weren’t at all impressed.

“Y/N, is it?” Theo drawled, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron. “A pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “My parents gave it to me. Now what can I get started for you?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name?”

“I know who you are,” you replied dismissively. “One of Enzo’s friends, right? I heard about your little stunt in the fountain. You know, December’s not really a smart time to go skinny dipping.” Theo flushed as your eyes trailed down to his crotch. “Certain parts shrivel in the cold, Nott.”

“I assure you, my parts were perfectly intact.”

“That’s not what Katie Bell said,” you countered, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “I believe I heard something about shrinkage.” Theo opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “I’ll tell you what, Theodore. Why don’t I fix you up a cappuccino? It’ll help keep you and your parts warm and cozy.”

Enzo bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter. The rest of his friends snickered as they watched a dejected Theo return to the table.

Regulus snorted as he sat back down in defeat. “Merlin, that was hard to watch. Absolutely brutal, really.”

Theo glared at Regulus in response. “I’d like to see you do better, Black.”

Regulus winked. “Watch and learn, boys.”

The older boy had about as much luck as Theo. Though the attempts had put him in a foul mood at first, Enzo was absolutely elated as he watched you turn down his friends. Regulus received an eye roll while Draco reeled from the head to toe once-over that humbled the absolute hell out of him.

“It’s useless,” his cousin mumbled. “She hates everyone.”

“Or maybe Y/N just doesn’t appreciate random blokes chatting her up while she’s trying to do her job,” Pansy said with an eye roll.

“Oh bloody hell, here she comes.” Regulus muttered under his breath. “I don’t think my ego can take another hit.”

The boys cowered as you came closer, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, you set a fresh mug of tea and a lemon scone down in front of Enzo.

“Last one, I promise. It’s finally perfect this time.”

“You said that the last three times,” Enzo said with a chuckle. “They were all brilliant, by the way. Not that you listen to my well crafted reviews.”

“You say that about everything I make, Enz. Honestly, a girl bakes you a couple of treats and suddenly I’m the best thing since sliced bread.”

“I’m just being honest,” he replied with a shrug. “You couldn’t bake a single bad pastry if you tried.”

“I’d like to try a pastry,” Mattheo interjected.

You tore your attention away from Enzo. The smile that you reserved for him transformed into a scowl, your entire body language turning stern. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”

“Riddle,” Mattheo supplied. “Mattheo Riddle.”

“Right,” you said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “My pastries aren’t for sale. You’re more than welcome to try the day-old brownie behind the counter though. If you can manage to chew through it.”

Mattheo sputtered, but you paid no mind to his aghast expression. Enzo fought the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“Closing again tonight?” he asked, ignoring the blatant stares from the rest of his friends.

“Unfortunately. Diggory bailed again. Probably too busy snogging Cho to come in for his shift,” you said with an eye roll.

“Leave those lovebirds alone,” Enzo quipped back. “They’re in their honeymoon phase.”

“I can’t for the life of me understand how they aren’t sick of each other by now.”

“That’s because you’re a mean old grump.” You glared at him, which only made Enzo smile. “Luckily for you, that doesn’t deter me. I’ll come keep you company if you want. I promise to be way more entertaining than Cedric.”

“It’s not a hard task to accomplish, but I’ll take you up on it nonetheless.”

“I thought you might say that,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll meet you back here after my last class. Pad Thai tonight?”

You nodded and grinned back. “This is why you’re my favorite, peach.”

The boys gaped as you ruffled his hair in parting. They waited until you were out of earshot before launching into a tirade.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just friends my arse.”

“I can’t believe she actually smiled at you!”

“It’s strange how treating Y/N like an actual human being instead of pestering her while she’s trying to work yields such positive results,” Pansy retorted. “I think you all need to start following Enzo’s example. Clearly he’s had more success than you lot.”

Blaise patted Enzo on the back. “Mate, you might be the most oblivious bloke in all of Britain, but you’d have to be an absolute knobhead not to see what’s right in front of you.”

He hummed in response, glancing up at the exact same time that your gaze met his from across the room. You winked, making him blush furiously. Merlin, you were pretty. It was honestly unfair. Maybe Zabini was onto something.

When it came to you, even Enzo had to agree that he was a total and absolute knobhead.

Later that night, Enzo helped you clear the plates and mugs as the last customers trickled out of Deja Brew. The soft sounds of your perfectly curated playlist trickled over the speakers as you flipped the sign to closed. He watched with a small smile as you hopped up onto the counter and beckoned him over. The fairy lights twinkled above the ceiling, illuminating your smile as Enzo took his place next to you.

The sight of you grinning up at him tugged at his heartstrings. There were coffee stains on your jeans and apron, your thick hair was falling out of its braid, and a cold bowl of Pad Thai awaited in your lap and yet he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Aren’t you glad Cedric bailed?” Enzo teased, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Now you get to enjoy cold noodles with your favorite person.”

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I suppose this is nicer than listening to Diggory ramble on about Quidditch. It’s always bludger this, bludger that. I honestly considered bludgeoning him myself.”

“To be fair, the man could merely breathe and you’d still find a way to be annoyed by it.”

“No one needs to inhale that much oxygen.”

“I rest my case, you mean old grump.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You know, if anyone else called me that I’d poke their eye out with a fork.” Enzo chuckled as you stabbed into your bowl of noodles. “Besides, I have every right to be grumpy. It’s been a long day. Thanks to your incessant little friends.”

“I’m sorry about the guys,” he said earnestly. “I tried to talk them out of flirting with you, but they’ve got this crazy theory.”

“Oh?” You asked, raising a brow. “What’s the theory, then?”

Enzo flushed, avoiding your gaze. “They uh…” He cleared his throat and stared at his shoes. “They think you fancy me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re not idiots after all. Your friends are right. I do fancy you.”

White noise rushed through his ears. Enzo’s mouth fell open as he met your gaze. Surely, he hadn’t heard you correctly.

“You alright there, peach?”

“You…” Enzo trailed off, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You like me?”

You chuckled. “I have for a bit. Thanks for finally noticing.”

“How?” Enzo muttered. “What?” He cocked his head, trying to search for the proper words. “Why?”

At the moment, it appeared that one syllable words were the full extent of his vocabulary. All those languages in his head and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence.

“Enz, I know your drink order by heart,” you explained softly. “I make you cupcakes and muffins. I write you notes every day. I thought I made myself pretty obvious.”

“Gods,” he breathed, silently reprimanding himself. “I really am the most oblivious bloke in Britain.” Enzo licked his lips, turning over to look at you. “I just thought you were being nice.”

“Lorenzo, when have I ever been nice to anyone?”

“I am a bloody idiot.”

“You never made a move, so I just thought you didn’t see me that way. Which is fine, by the way. I don’t mind being friends.”

Enzo turned so fast he nearly smacked into the register. “Are you kidding? I’ve had a crush on you for months. You’re the best part of my day. Waking up and knowing that I get to see you every morning is the only thing that gets me out of bed.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’re out of my league. You’re smart and funny and not to mention way too cool. Honestly, I thought you’d go for someone like Mattheo or Theo or literally anyone else but me. Someone a little more…” he trailed off, waving a hand over you.

“Scary?”

“No! Well, yes. Someone more confident and intimidating.”

“Bad boys aren’t really my type.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. “They’re not?”

“No,” you said, setting down your food and turning over to face him. “My type is a nerdy linguistics major who teaches me how to curse in six different languages and who makes cute little conjugation charts and orders drinks that should quite frankly classify as a dessert.”

Enzo’s smile grew wider. "I like you too, you know. A lot. Like, embarrassingly so. With your grumpy little scowl and all black wardrobe and dry humor. I like all of it."

You beamed as Enzo leaned closer, tracing your lips like he was trying to commit the curves of your smile to his memory. His heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Then kiss me like you mean it, Enzo."

Despite your confidence, the air left your lungs as soon as Enzo cradled your face in his hands. The twinkling lights made his brown eyes shimmer like pools of honey in the dark. The tension stretched between you as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours ever so gently. They briefly closed around yours—tasting, testing, taunting. Then the dam broke free.

Enzo pressed you closer and kissed you like his life depended on it. You smiled against his lips, melting into his touch as he tilted your head back for more. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Enzo sighed into your mouth, his lips molding perfectly against yours. The once shy and experimental kisses turned needy and passionate, making you feel slightly lightheaded. Enzo savored your soft sighs, kissing you over and over again to elicit more.

It wasn't until you felt like the air had been depleted from your lungs when he finally relented. He pressed his forehead against yours, noses brushing as you both grinned at each other. It felt right to be this close. It felt like you were made to do this all along. Enzo brushed his thumb over your cheek, looking dazed as he pulled back to look at you.

“It’s about time, Berkshire.”

“Hey,” Enzo grumbled, pecking at your lips. “You can’t blame me. I couldn’t even look at you without blushing and making a fool of myself. You’re so intimidating.”

“Not so scary now, am I?”

“Oh no, I’m still terrified of you. But I’ve also seen you cry during the Notebook, so I know that deep down inside, you’re just a big softie.”

You started to protest, but Enzo just leaned in and kissed you again. With his lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t even remember what you were about to say. As he pulled you into his lap, you heard cheers coming from outside. Behind the glass window, his friends were cheering and wolf-whistling rather obnoxiously on the street.

Enzo responded by flicking them off and kissing you even harder, pressing your bodies together as you giggled. He hauled you to your feet, his arms circling around your waist as he dipped you for a better angle. Your back hit the counter as you raised to your tiptoes, winding your arms around his neck and mussing up his hair as you arched for more. The hollering only grew more incessant when Enzo grabbed your ass and squeezed. The groan that escaped from his mouth made you dizzy with desire.

If one kiss could elicit such a response out of you, it was almost scary to think what else Enzo had in his arsenal. A cheeky little smile curved against his lips as though he knew exactly what you were thinking. You basked under the warmth of his gaze, feeling flushed and flustered. That pretty face had you entirely fooled. Enzo was far from innocent.

“Gods, I really fucking fancy you.”

With a smile, you kissed the tip of his nose. “I really fucking fancy you too, peach.”

Despite the many languages in Enzo's arsenal, no phrase or saying could convey how he felt better than his lips against yours. Maybe he hadn't quite mastered the language of love, but he had a feeling that you'd be more than willing to teach him.

#my pretty boy give me coffee shop shy enzo #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire fluff

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teamatsumu · 1 year ago

Text

wrong twin? (miya atsumu x reader)

summary: you have a massive crush on miya osamu. so the plan is to get closer to him through his twin brother. it’s genius. it’s bound to work. right?

word count: 3008

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, swearing, maybe a dash of humor, atsumu being atsumu, him and reader bicker a lot

tags: @keiva1000

When you handed in your application to join the Inarizaki High School volleyball club as manager, you had a very clear agenda in mind, but nobody needed to know about that. You had a good knowledge of volleyball, you had good organizational skills, and you were responsible. They accepted your application in a heartbeat, and were none the wiser of your true intentions behind joining the team.

It was only when you cornered their blond setter after practice one day that you actually said the words out loud.

“Ya want me to do what?” He raised an eyebrow, shoving his volleyball shoes into his backpack.

“Help me get close to him!” You whispered in a conspiratorial tone, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to you two. Your eyes lingered on Osamu where he was helping Gin clean up. “You’re his twin brother. You’re closest to him. If we hang out more, that would inevitably mean I get to hang out with Osamu more too. And we can become friends. Eventually, I will get him to fall in love with me.”

Atsumu stared at you with a very distinct ‘what the fuck’ look, but you stared right back, determined.

“Yer insane.” He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way to the gym door. You followed behind.

“Please, Atsumu!” You begged, following him out of the gym and down the path leading out of the school.

“No!” He responded, not looking back at you. “Ya wanna get close to him, just go talk to him! Why ya gotta drag me into yer crazy schemes?!”

“I can’t just go talk to him, it would be creepy! I need a way into his circle.”

Atsumu gave you another look. “Oh yeah, what yer saying right now isn’t creepy at all.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

You huffed, scowling at the back of his blond head. Your eyes caught the lights of the corner convenience store, and you felt an idea forming.

“I will buy you an after-practice snack every day for a year.”

Atsumu stopped short, looking back at you. “Yer bein’ serious?”

You gestured to the store up ahead. “We could start right now. I have money on me.”

His answering grin meant you had a deal.

……………………

When you joined the twins for lunch the next day at Atsumu’s desk, Osamu raised an eyebrow.

“It was my idea.” Atsumu explained. “She’s cool so I said we should hang out more.”

Osamu seemed to buy it, shrugging and giving you a welcoming little smile. You felt yourself flush, giddy as you pulled up a chair and sat down next to Atsumu, opposite to his brother.

“Oh sweet, are those pancake rolls?” Osamu asked when you opened your bento. You nodded eagerly.

“I made them myself!” You replied, pushing the box closer to him. “Wanna try?”

You knew Osamu liked food (okay, maybe you had stalked him a little), and even though you sucked at cooking, you had meticulously made your lunch today for this very reason. You couldn’t help your grin when Osamu bit into a roll and moaned at the taste, saying it was delicious. You could feel how hot your face was, even the tips of your ears felt warm. Atsumu rolled his eyes in your periphery but you paid him no mind, striking up a conversation with his brother instead.

“Yer like a different person around him.” Atsumu commented later that evening, when you were sitting on the curb outside the convenience store and he was chowing down on a pork bun you had bought him. The rest of the team had gone ahead, most of them too tired to stop for a snack and just wanting to get to bed as soon as possible.

You sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He makes me feel things.”

Atsumu chewed for a little bit, watching you stare at the moth circling the streetlight.

“Gross.”

You slapped him hard on the bicep at that, making him let out an ‘ow!’. He pouted at you as he rubbed his arm, while all you did was roll your eyes in return.

……………………………

Lunch became a normal thing with the twins after that. You would wake up at 5am, cook something new that you thought Osamu might appreciate, and you would watch him devour it, praising you for how good it was. One time, Atsumu had gotten curious and tried to reach for a piece of onigiri, making you smack his hand away. He yelped and clutched it.

“What was that for?!”

“You already get a snack out of me every day, Miya. Keep your paws off my lunch.”

Osamu had snickered at that, and your heart had skipped at the sound, effectively forgetting Atsumu even existed as your focus shifted entirely to his brother. Atsumu grumbled but complied, saying something about ‘’s probably not that good anyway’. You paid him no mind.

You got to know Osamu a lot better during your little lunch sessions. He didn’t talk as much as his brother, but he was perceptive, and a great listener. He seemed to balance out Atsumu perfectly, and you could see how close they actually were. You would often giggle at their banter, witnessing the many foul names they would call each other, but knowing they didn’t mean it at the end of the day.

You often went to their house, under the guise of tutoring Atsumu. At first, Atsumu had told you no one would buy it, but you were adamant to try. And you were right. When you told Osamu why you were there, he snorted in response.

“Figures. This dumb fuck needs all the help he can get.”

Atsumu had yelled and tried to swat at his brother, but Osamu expertly dodged him. You had laughed at their antics.

Your study sessions were often spent with you stealing glances at Osamu from the dining table where you and Atsumu were located. He wouldn’t stick around much, preferring to camp out in their shared bedroom, but you still appreciated every glimpse that you got of him when he wandered down to the kitchen for a snack. Atsumu would nudge you with his knee under the table.

“Be a little less obvious, will ya?”

You stuck a middle finger in his face in response. He grabbed your hand and twisted it a bit, just enough to make you yelp and try to push him away.

“Tsumu, you jerk! Let go!”

“Say sorry!”

“Over my dead body!”

Osamu had to break you two apart sometimes, while you glared at each other from either side of him.

At practice, you would stay late when they needed help perfecting their quick attack, throwing balls so Atsumu could set them for Osamu. On the way back, you would buy Atsumu his daily snack and offer to pay for Osamu’s as well, which he always refused.

“Unlike this tool, I’m not shameless enough to let someone else pay fer me.”

“Hey!”

With every passing day, you felt that you were getting closer and closer to Osamu. Where you had barely exchanged words before, you two could hold long conversations now, and you especially loved when you ganged up to shit on Atsumu, who would be overdramatic as hell about the insults and act like he just got shot. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed so much.

Then, Osamu got a girlfriend.

You didn’t learn about it until you saw a girl at the gym on one random Wednesday. You had raised an eyebrow at her, watching as she looked around for something.

“Can I help you?”

She shook her head. “I’m just looking for Osamu. He left some stuff at my place last night.”

Your brain short circuited. Her place? Last night?

Then he ran over to her. Greeted her and thanked her for bringing his stuff. And then he kissed her.

You were mentally tuned out of practice for the rest of the evening.

When Atsumu walked up to you after practice so you could make your usual trip to the convenience store, you had just silently followed him. You had bought him some yakusoba bread, and you sat on the curb, waiting to walk home after he finished eating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You finally asked.

Atsumu sighed in return. “Didn’t want ya to get hurt.”

You turned to look at him. His attention was on the bread. “Did you expect me to never find out?”

He shook his head. “I was hopin’ to tell ya after practice. Just couldn’t think of the words.”

For some reason, you felt anger boil up inside you. You stood up abruptly. Atsumu paused his chewing to look up at you.

“I don’t need you to coddle me, Tsumu.” You grit out. “That was not the deal.”

Atsumu didn’t seem fazed by your tone. “Sit down.”

You glared at him. “I’m going home.”

When you turned to leave, you were stopped by his hand reaching up to clutch at the hem of your jacket, pulling you back.

“I know yer hurtin’. Just sit.”

You don’t know why that did it. Tears that had been building up all during practice were set free, rolling down your cheeks. Silently, you sat back down next to him. He didn’t talk as you cried, only shuffling closer until his side was pressed to yours. An unexpected comfort came to you with the contact. You leaned on him, resting your head on your knees, shoulders shaking.

When you had calmed down enough, you wiped your face with your sleeves, sitting up straighter. Atsumu extended his bread to you. You raised an eyebrow.

“When have you ever shared with me before?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ya want it or not?”

The bread seemed to melt in your mouth. Food did make you feel a bit better, but your mind was still on Osamu.

“‘M sorry yer scheme didn’t work out.”

You laughed a bit, taking another bite. “When you call it a scheme, it makes me think it was bound to fail from the start.”

Atsumu shook his head. “Nah. Ya made an effort. I respect that.” He stretched his legs in front of him, leaning back on his hands. “Yer a real catch. Yer smart and yer pretty. Samu’s blind ta not see that.”

You giggled, nudging Atsumu a bit. “Careful, Tsum-tsum. I might think you were falling for me.”

If your emotions weren’t so over the place, and if you hadn’t just tired yourself out from crying so much, you would’ve noticed how the older Miya’s eyes softened.

…………………………

Getting over Osamu wasn’t easy. Especially after having chased after him for so many months. It didn’t help that his little girlfriend seemed to come around more often, sometimes joining the team during practice. At times like those, you tried to stay as far away from her and Osamu, and that often meant you would find comfort in Atsumu, the only person who knew about your crush.

“What does he see in her anyway?” You voiced out loud, watching her laugh at something Osamu had said. You were sitting on a bench outside the gym with Atsumu, watching the two interact on the other side of the path. The rest of the team still weren’t done with their run. As usual, the twins were the first ones to reach the school.

Atsumu ran a towel over his neck, setting his water bottle down next to him. “Ya need ta get over him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never loved anything except volleyball.”

“Damn right. Has volleyball ever betrayed me? No. So suck it.”

You dug your elbow into his side, making him yelp and grab your head, pushing you away. His hand was massive and covered over half your face, and you struggled to get him off, digging your nails into his forearm.

“Tsumu, you asshole-”

You didn’t even notice when Osamu stared at the two of you, too absorbed in your little squabble.

So yeah, getting over Osamu wasn’t easy, but having Atsumu around helped a ton. Everytime he would see your eyes linger on Osamu too long, he would make some sort of comment, or change the subject, just trying to get your attention anywhere else. Too many times, he would physically grab you and turn you away from his twin, saying something along the lines of how you should be looking at the ‘better twin’ instead.

“Sorry but which one of you decided to dye their hair the color of piss?”

“It’s blond!”

“You ever heard of toner, dumbass?”

And you would grab his hair, messing it up and tugging at it a bit, giggling when he whined about you ruining his ‘hairstyle’. You also knew that Atsumu would kill anyone else who dared touch his hair, and the fact made your heart skip a bit. It also made you think, and once the gears in your head started turning, there was no going back.

Now that the fog of your infatuation with Osamu was lifting a bit, you seemed to notice his twin more. You would watch how Atsumu seemed to almost shield you from anything that reminded you of Osamu. How he had made it a habit after that one evening to always share half his snack with you, no matter how small it was. He would often say out of pocket shit, but rather than annoying you, it seemed to endear you more. It was like these little quips were a part of his charm, and you would giggle along instead of telling him to shut up.

He was awfully touchy too. You suppose he had always been, and you had just never thought about it. But now it seemed like none of his moves went unnoticed by you. He had a habit of gripping your head with one hand and turning your face to his when you weren’t paying attention. It used to annoy the crap out of you but now it made you pause and blink, meeting his caramel colored eyes. He would nudge you and poke you, he would drape an arm over your shoulders and whine about how tired he was. And your cheeks would warm up every time. You were forced to admit it.

You had a thing for Atsumu.

Deep down, you cursed at your luck, almost laughing in incredulity. What a joke this was, having a crush on both twins. But you knew that this was different. You knew this wasn’t just a silly crush.

Atsumu was more. He had always been more.

“Tsumu?”

He hummed in response, indicating he was listening, even if he was busy stuffing a chocolate bar into his mouth. You two were in your usual place, sitting on the curb outside the convenience store, lit up only by the light of the store behind you and the lamp post across the street. You watched his profile, the way his jaw moved when he chewed, his eyes trained before him, his undercut, and his dyed hair falling over his forehead slightly.

He was so painfully attractive. And you had never noticed.

He looked at you finally when you didn’t speak, raising an eyebrow.

“Everythin’ okay?”

You nodded hastily, turning away from him. You heard him pause, wrapping up what was left of his chocolate and placing it next to him before shuffling closer to you.

“Yer lyin’. What is it?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You can read me so well.”

He shrugged in response, draping his arm over your shoulder. You closed your eyes, mentally accepting how the action now made you feel.

“I did spend the whole year hearin’ ya whine about yer feelings, so yeah. I can read ya pretty well.”

You sighed, turning your head to look at him. At this proximity, you could see the brown swirling in his eyes, and it reminded you of milk chocolate. You were nearly nose to nose with him, and you weren’t nervous at all. With Osamu, you would always be on edge. Your insides would squirm, your heart would race, and oftentimes, you would stumble over your words.

With Atsumu, you felt every muscle in your body relax when he touched you. Despite his chaotic personality and his crude language, Atsumu was so tuned in when it came to you. When you needed it, he was as calm as they come. There was such unprecedented comfort in his presence. When you were around him, it felt like everything would be okay.

“I love you.”

It came out of you involuntarily at that moment. But you weren’t scared to tell him. You should have been, but one look at him this close and all your fears were melting away. When Atsumu gave you a little smile, you couldn’t help but return it.

“I love ya too, sweets.”

His kiss was expected. Soft, slow, perfect. His lips were plush and warm, and he tasted like the chocolate he had just been eating. His arm around your shoulder tightened, and his other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head enough to deepen the kiss. You felt your head buzz, your hands fisting at the front of his shirt and trying to pull him closer, though it was impossible.

You whined in protest when he ended the kiss, making him chuckle slightly. The sound made your lips twitch up a bit, and you ran your eyes all over his face. He hummed in approval.

“There it is.”

You blinked. “What?”

He traced your cheekbone with his thumb. “Ya know how long I’ve wanted ya to look at me like that and not Samu?”

Right. Samu. You had forgotten about him completely the moment Atsumu’s lips touched yours. The thought made you giggle and pull at his jacket collar to tug him close, until his lips were meeting yours again.

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu fanfic #miya atsumu imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #friends to lovers #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines

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nanamis-baker · 10 months ago

Text

"Let me have my fill, Sweetheart"

Summary: Gojo wants to have his fill of you before leaving.

Content: Smut (Rough+ choking), some fluff, different positions, different locations.

WC: 6.3k (and only around 6k is pure smut lol)

The gentle clinks of dishes echoed in the quiet space. Satoru stood at the sink, his silhouette bathed in the soft, golden light of the overhead fixtures. The air carries the faint scent of lemon-scented dish soap as he carefully washed and dried the last of the plates, the soft glow casting a halo around his figure.

A smile graced your lips as you watched him, clad in his off-white t-shirt that hugged his broad frame perfectly, the way his sweatpants sat low on his waist. His hair, usually tamed by the blindfold, cascaded freely across his forehead, inviting you to run your fingers through it, gripping the soft strands.

Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, you crossed the kitchen to envelop him in your embrace, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. Your lips pressed against his t-shirt-covered shoulder blade, planting a soft kiss.

“When is your flight again?” you inquired softly. Satoru paused for a moment before responding.

“Around 4:30 in the morning,” he replied.

You nodded against his back as your hands roamed up and down his toned chest, teasing him slightly, relishing the feel of his muscles under your touch “So only a few hours, huh?” you sighed.

Finally done with the dishes, he turned to face you. Your chin rested on his chest as his arms wrapped around you, his touch firm yet gentle as he flattened his hands on your lower back, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. His cool knuckles brushed a stray hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Gotta make the best use of these hours, right?” Satoru asked, his voice low as his lips lingered near the shell of your ears.

Without wasting a moment, his lips moved to your shoulder, pushing aside the fabric of your shirt to reveal a sliver of soft skin. He placed a gentle kiss there, a slow, deliberate press of his lips that sent a spark through your body. He made his way towards your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin as he trailed kisses up to the sensitive area behind your ear.

"Tell me, love," he began, his voice low and husky, "why do you look so guilty?" He asked, as his lips grazed the soft skin under your ear.

You hummed, “I had the last piece of the brownie- although I didn't realise it was the last one” you admitted.

Satoru tsked playfully, pulling away a little to look into your eyes, the heat in them mirroring yours. He found that spot again under your ear, sucking it, as his teeth grazed your skin, causing you to moan softly. His strong hand moved up and down your back, keeping you anchored to him.

"I was really looking forward to something sweet before flying away," he murmured, his voice brushing against your ear like a secret. "Now, what should we do about that, huh?" The rumble in his voice ignited a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment.

His hands moved away from your back, slowly trailing down your sides before dipping beneath the hem of your shirt. His thumbs traced circles just above the waistband of your shorts, the touch a delicious reminder of his power over your senses.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, giving him the satisfaction he craved. A lazy smirk stretched across his lips as his hands trailed up higher, brushing against your ribs just under the swell of your chest.

He leaned in as his lips brushed against yours with a teasing lightness, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. His hands were under your shirt, strong and sure as they skimmed over your stomach and back.

“You are such a tease” you murmured as you reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck, brushing against his undercut as you trailed kisses up his jaw and behind his ear, reaching for that spot that always drove him crazy. A sharp breath hitched in his throat, and you smiled against his neck, knowing you'd found your target.

Satoru's thumb hooked into the fabric of your shorts, giving a gentle tug, silently seeking your consent.

You smiled up at him as one of your hands left its place on Satoru’s nape, finding his hand under your t-shirt and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He didn’t need to know anything else. Satoru knelt before you, his movements deliberate as he slid your shorts off your legs.

The tips of his fingers traced a feather-light path from your ankles, calves, the underside of your knee, and over your thighs. His touch was an urgent whisper, sending shivers down your spine with every caress. “God, you are so perfect,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

His soft lips followed the same path, trailing kisses up your legs, each one a slow, deliberate tease. His lips reached your thigh, nibbling, planting hot kissing, as he made it to your inner thigh. He lingered there, the heat of breath a tantalizing promise against your core. You arched your back unconsciously, pushing into him, yearning for more.

So close. He was so close to where you wanted him.

His eyes, dark with desire, locked on yours. A slow smirk spread across his lips, and he leaned back, leaving you breathless and yearning.

A strangled cry caught in your throat. So close. Why was he stopping now? Your hand fisted in his hair, a silent plea for him to continue, but in one, swift movement, he was back on his feet, standing in front of your breathless form, smirking.

“Satoru don’t-” you started, but before you could finish Satoru leaned forward, lips crashing for a searing kiss that stole your breath away.

He cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. His touch was demanding, causing you to moan. Satoru placed his other hand on the nape of your neck, tilting your head up.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, the texture soft, like water flowing between your fingertips. Your other hand slipped under his thin t-shirt, fingertips grazing the warm skin of his back, pulling him in, and causing him to groan.

His grip on your neck tightened slightly, sending a thrill through you.

Your back brushed against the kitchen counter, the cold marble so different from the heat of Satoru’s body. The world seemed to fade away, everything reduced to the desperate press of his lips and the frantic beat of your heart.

Satoru’s body pressed against yours, urging you to sit on the counter, but you had different plans.

He blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as you broke this kiss. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice breathless.

Ignoring his question for a moment, you dropped to your knees in front of him. You met his lustful gaze, a challenge glinting in your eyes, as you made your intention clear.

You held his gaze as your hands skimmed up his thighs, your fingertips exploring the firm muscles beneath his sweatpants. You didn't waste time with teasing - After all, you didn’t have Satoru’s patience.

Instead, your hands dipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, and with a single, swift motion, you tugged the garment down, leaving it pooling around his lower thighs. “I just want a taste,” you said, your voice needy.

The muscles in his legs tensed beneath your touch. He met your gaze, desire burning in his eyes. “A taste, huh?” he said, his voice a rough rasp. “Go ahead then, love.”

Your eyes returned to his still-clothed cock, straining against his boxers.

You did not have the same patience as him, but that didn't mean you could resist teasing him. You gently grabbed him through his boxers, teasing him as you placed a kiss on his clothed head. Satoru gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his cheeks flushing pink as he looked down at you.

"Don't tease, baby," he said, his voice carrying a rumble that made you smirk.

Your fingers trailed down his length, the cotton of his boxers clinging tightly to it. Each stroke sent a jolt through him, a hiss escaping his lips as you lingered near the sensitive spot near his head, the fabric providing delicious friction. “Keep doing that and I’ll edge you till you are crying, love,” the warning was clear in his voice.

At last, you decided to put him out of his misery. With a slow, deliberate movement, you pulled down his boxers, revealing his cock, which now rested against his lower stomach. A gasp escaped his lips as the cool air hit his sensitive skin.

Your hands roamed up his thighs, fingers brushing against his balls, causing him to shudder. Finally, you wrapped your hand around his cock, guiding him into your waiting mouth, while the other hand rested on his thigh for some semblance of control.

With every movement, you try and take more of him into your mouth, coating him with your saliva, your hands stroking what you can’t fit… yet.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good” Satoru breathed out.

Unable you respond, you hummed around him, causing a shiver to rack down his body. His slender fingers grazed through your hair, the touch lingering for a moment before dipping down to the nape of your neck. His grip tightened, sending a wave of anticipation through you.

Satoru moaned as you continued taking him in. Finally, after some time, you managed to bottom out, your nose pressing against his pelvis.

“Fuck. You’re doing so good, love, taking me all in,” he encouraged. A mixture of spit and his pre-cum coated your lips, trickling down your chin.

You started to move your head back and forth, your tongue teasing the slit of his head, tracing the veins of his cock. Satoru shuddered whenever your tongue brushed his sensitive head, a hiss leaving his lips.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze that was already fixed on you. Strands of his hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. A flush bloomed across his cheeks and spread down his neck, mirroring the warmth that bloomed in your own chest. His pupils were dilated, his eyes bright, glittering with pleasure that mirrored the delicious ache building in your body.

You could barely breathe, but seeing him like this was totally worth it.

Satoru's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle circle over your cheekbone, “Breathe through your nose, love,” he said, though he sounded breathless himself, “Although you look so pretty, choking on my cock like that.”

His words caused you to moan as you moved your head faster, savouring him - the taste, the texture, everything that he had to offer. Satoru threw his head back in a gasp of pleasure, a guttural sound escaping his lips as he felt your teeth lightly scrape his length.

His chest heaved with each breath, the muscles straining with visible effort. Groans ripped from his throat, growing louder and more desperate with every passing second. You could tell he was getting closer.

You gasped around his cock as his grip on your hair tightened, a sharp tug pulling your head back, locking it in place.

Satoru started moving his hips, fucking your mouth, each thrust deeper and more hurried than the last one. Your hand gripped his thighs for support as he thrust into you, testing your limit.

He was so close. You could tell by his ragged breaths, his hurried pace, and the way he pulsed over your tongue. But, just as he was about to cum, his fingers twisted in your hair, pulling you away, leaving his cock coated in your saliva.

Confused, you looked up at him, but he just offered you a lazy smirk, “Not now, love. Got a big night planned ahead of us.”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you up, pinning you between his body and the counter before his lips found yours. His hands slipped under the hem of your t-shirt. His thumb circled your nipples, driving you crazy but never giving you what you wanted.

He grabbed your ass and lifted you onto the counter effortlessly, causing you to lean back on your arms for support. His lips sucked the skin on your jaw and neck gently, drawing soft gasps from you.

He was taking his sweet time, determined to make this last.

You clenched your thighs together, needing some friction, but Satoru’s knees parted your legs as he settled between them. A frustrated groan left your throat, causing him to smirk.

That fucker was enjoying this.

Finally, he removed your t-shirt, lifting it over your head before tossing it somewhere. The cold air of the kitchen enveloped your skin, giving rise to goosebumps all over your body.

Satoru took a step back. His eyes were dark with desire as his gaze boldly swept over you. Admiration clouded his eyes as he took you in - The goosebumps on your skin and the flush of your face - all enough to drive him wild.

Satoru reached for your exposed collarbone, measuring its length with his lips. He moved down, his lips tracing a searing path down your body, while his featherlight fingers roamed all over you, causing you to shudder.

His hot breath danced against your skin, so different from the cool air that surrounded you.

After what felt like a lifetime, he made his way towards your lower stomach, sucking and biting, leaving his mark. You arched your back, desperate for more, but Satoru paid it no mind.

His lips brushed against the waistband of your underwear, “You look so good in them…” he began hoarsely, “but unfortunately, they are in my way,” he finished, tearing off your underwear.

He sucked hard on your inner thighs, biting them, making you squirm before his finger finally reached where you had been aching for them.

Without a warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, your wetness coating them immediately. “God, you’re soaked,” he rumbled against your skin as his thumb teased your clit, drawing a gasp from you. Oh, the effect this man had on you.

For a moment, Satoru just watched you, his eyes savouring your reactions before his lips latched onto your clit, causing you to moan loudly.

One of his hands pumped into you, while his other hand flattened against your lower back, pushing you into his eager mouth and locking you in.

Your hand reached for his hair, tugging and pulling, as his fingers and tongue worked into you. Your other hand desperately gripped the counter, as loud moans left your lips.

Satoru withdrew his finger, only to replace it with his tongue before you could even process the loss of touch. His thumb drew tight circles over your clit, his tongue curling inside you, reaching all the right spots as you groaned, your back arching almost painfully.

You could feel your orgasm building as Satoru continued like a man starved, his fingers replacing his tongue, “Just like that, love, cum in my mouth.”

His words pushed you over the edge, and Satoru’s fingers continued to pump into you, drawing out your orgasm.

You slumped against the counter, breathing hard, but Satoru’s fingers did not stop even after your orgasm. In fact, they were pumping into you faster than before.

“Toru, it’s too m-much,” you moan out as you reach down to push him away, but his hand just grabs your hand. His fingers intervened with yours, almost tenderly, as he pinned your hand to your side, his hold strong.

Despite your words, you found yourself wanting more- more of his touch, his mouth, whatever he offered. Breathless whimpers escaped your lips as he added a third finger, stretching you out, pushing you towards the edge, your orgasm building rapidly.

Your eyes closed as you were ready to fall over the edge, but Satoru’s fingers spotted abruptly, causing you to cry out. His fingers left your core as he stood up, his lips and chin glistering under the soft glow of kitchen lights, “Patience, love,” he said, offering you a lazy smile as he reached for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his toned, muscular chest.

In the same breath, he removed his sweats and boxers, stepping out of them to stand in front of you. Satoru’s skin was almost translucent, with a map of veins running all over his body.

You wanted to trace them with your eyes, your fingers, and your lips like you had done so many times in the past, but before you could do any of those things, Satoru grabbed your waist, pulling you off the counter and spinning you, so your back was pressed against his chest.

One of his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his hard chest, while his other hand reached up, teasing and rolling your nipple in between his thumb and fingers. You gasped as you felt his breath against your ear, and you could almost feel him smile at your reaction.

He slowly pushed you down, bending you over the counter till you were pressed against the marble, sandwiched between Satoru’s heat and the cold of the counter - a heady combination.

His fingers, rough against your skin, slowly traced lazy patterns along your neck and shoulder, moving your hair aside, deliberately exposing that sensitive area to his touch.

His kisses started tender, feather-light explorations that left your skin tingling. Then, they turned harder, nips and sucks that sent desire coursing through you. He trailed a hot path down your spine, his lips lingering on the small of your back before continuing their descent. Soft moans escaped your lips as goosebumps erupted across your skin due to his touch.

You felt his erection brush against your skin, causing you to groan in frustration, “Satoru, just fuck me already.”

He chuckled. That bastard chuckled.

Frustrated, you pushed yourself up from the counter, your palms flat against the hard material, but before you could fully rise, Satoru’s hands reached for your wrists, grabbing them and pinning them against the small of your back, his large hand holding them in place.

His other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, softly pushing your face down towards the cool counter, trapping you beneath him as he finally, finally pushed himself into you in one go. A strangled cry escaped your lips when he did not stop, pushing until he was completely inside you.

“Fuck, you feel so good” Satoru breathed out as he began thrusting into you. He started slow, going in and out of you lazily, drawing out moans from your lips.

It wasn’t long before he picked up the pace, pounding into you, as choked gasps left your throat. You could not move, trapped between Satoru and the counter, his hands pinning you into place. You couldn’t do anything but take his cock.

And you wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

His pace changed. He pulled out of you almost all the way out, before trusting into you again, making you gasp from the force.

His grip around your wrist tightened, and the hand that was holding your head down moved in front of you, cupping your jaw as he lifted your head, his lips hot against your ear, “enjoying this, huh?” he gritted out, “tell me how much you like it when I pound into you, love”

His hand moved to your throat, gripping slightly. “A lot, Satoru” you gasped out, “Don’t stop, please”

“Oh, I am not planning to” a hard thrust, deep inside you, “Not anytime soon”

You could feel your orgasm building, and you were sure Satoru could feel it too, as his pace quickened. His thrusts were getting sloppy - he was close too.

You came, your knees bucking as loud moans left your mouth, but Satoru’s hold kept you from falling. Soon, he followed, hissing and groaning as he came, his thrusts turning deep and slow, burying his cum deep inside you.

Satoru released his hold on you, and the two of you collapsed against the marble, the coolness a welcome relief from your heated skin. His finger reached up, tenderly brushing away the hair that was sticking to your face.

You met his gaze, the intensity still lingered, but it was the hint of tenderness that sent a warmth blooming in your chest. His eyes looked so bright, despite the desire swimming in them. Damp strands of hair clung to his forehead, framing a face flushed. You reached out, a soft touch brushing against his cheek, mirroring his caress, causing him to smile.

God, he wasn't just beautiful - he was captivating - a pleasant sight for sore eyes.

You smiled back at him, but just then you felt him move as he picked you up. Wetness, a mix of his cum and yours trickled down your inner thigh.

“What are you…” You began, as Satoru carried you towards the bedroom.

"You thought we were done?" he chuckled, a playful smirk on his lips. He dipped his head, his breath warm against your ear. "I will be gone for a week- maybe more, let me have my fill, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice sending a fresh wave of desire through you.

Satoru dropped you on the bed, and without missing a beat, he was on top of you. His body rested on his elbow as he covered your body partially with his. The muscle of his arm flexed under his weight, his other hand brushing against your cheeks.

You brushed his hair away from his eyes, And Satoru held your hand, kissing your knuckles, his eyes closing briefly. “But Satoru, I’m spent,” you say, despite the heat building in your stomach.

Satoru’s eyes darkened, a flicker of knowing recognition crossing his features as he heard the need in your voice. "Are you though, hmm?" he murmured. Before you could answer, he captured your lips in a searing kiss. His hands cupped your jaw, his long fingers sending shivers down your spine as they brushed the delicate skin behind your ear.

You responded instantly, wrapping your hand around his neck, your fingers digging into the tight muscles there. A soft moan escaped your lips as you hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him closer, the need for his touch overwhelming. Satoru’s familiar scent surrounded you, filling your senses, so familiar and intoxicating. The air crackled with desire as the kiss deepened.

He pulled away, breaking the kiss. You saw a hunger in his eyes, a raw desire that mirrored the blaze raging within you. His pupils were dilated, his gaze flickering from your lips to your flushed cheeks before locking with yours. His tongue darted out, a slow, deliberate lick across his lips, probably tasting you on them.

God, it was going to be a long night.

He moved to your neck, tracing a familiar path with his lips, a path that always left you breathless. You didn't need a mirror to know you were flushed and the marks he had left were etched on your skin.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Satoru shifted, his lips hovering tantalisingly close to your lower stomach. His hand moved to wrap around your midsection, the warmth a delicious contrast to the coolness of the sheets. He lifted your body slightly, pulling you closer to his touch. As his lips met your skin, a spark ignited within you.

Your knuckles turned white as you clutched the sheets, the fabric bunching in your hand. Your gaze followed Satoru as he made his way up your body, slow and deliberate, placing kisses all over your skin. Your other hand brushed against the nape of his neck, over his undercut before massaging through his scalp, causing him to groan softly.

He made it to your chest, taking one of your nipples in his warm mouth, sucking and biting, as his teeth scraped against them, while his hand played with the other nipple, pinching and rolling it. You felt his soft strand brushing against your jaw and neck, tickling you slightly.

Finally, He devoured your lips in a kiss, swallowing your moans and stealing your breath as he pushed himself into you. This time, his thrusts weren’t slow or kind, they were relentless, almost brutal, determined to take whatever he needed.

You were a moaning mess, and you reached for him, clawing his back, to pull him closer- to push him away- you didn’t know. All you knew was that you needed him.

Your nails roamed down his back, leaving a trail of scratches as he rammed into you, and just when you thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he grabbed one of your legs, lifting and hooking it over his shoulder, your thigh pressing against your stomach. Somehow, he felt even deeper in this position.

His hand took hold of the ankle that now rested on his shoulder. With a slight turn of his head, he brushed his lips against the sensitive skin of your calf. A searing trail of kisses followed, each one hitting you like waves of pleasure. You couldn't help as your breath hitched, a soft moan escaping your throat as his hot breath tickled your ankle. His gaze never left yours, a flicker of something dark gleaming within them. It wasn't just his dominance that drove you wild; it was the way his touch ignited a fire within you, a fire he seemed determined to stoke.

Your nails continued digging into Satoru's back, sending shivers down his spine. He groaned - a low rumble that vibrated against you. Satoru reached for your hand, removing it from his back, before pinning it roughly beside your head. His fingers softly intervened with yours.

It was almost romantic - if he wasn’t fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

Satoru continued pounding into you, his thrusts unrestrained, consuming you rapidly.

It was all too much. You felt too much. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, his eyes blazing with a desire that mirrored the fire raging within you, the feel of his lips against your heated skin, his rough hand that pinned yours, the weight of his body and his brutal thrusts. It was all too much for you.

Yet you craved more.

Because it all felt so good. “You’re doing so good baby, so good for me,” he said through gritted teeth, as his hand reached between your bodies to play with your clit, rolling and pressing it with his finger. It was enough to push you over the edge, but Satoru had a different plan, as his fingers slowed.

“Hmm, tell me love, why should I let you cum?” He asked, his expression morphing into mock curiosity. His thrusts had slowed too- he was barely moving now. You wanted to scream.

“Gojo I swear to God-” You began, but his voice cut you off.

“What did you just call me?” he asked, and you remembered how much he hated being called by his family name- especially in bed. “You know what?” he began, his thrusts finding their pace again, “Forget about not cumming. I am going to fuck you till all you can scream is my name” His voice was a dangerous murmur, filled with promise.

His fingers resumed, circling your clit, finishing what they started.

Orgasm, a searing wave, crashed over you, buckling your knees. Your body arched reflexively, every nerve ending flared with exquisite intensity. A strangled sound escaped your throat - or maybe you were silent- you didn’t know You were lost in a tide of sensations, your body singing in response to his touch.

You were a trembling mess, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The intensity of your orgasm had left you breathless, unable to catch your breath for what felt like an eternity.

Without giving you a chance to recover, Satoru grabbed your waist and flipped you over, so you were on your stomach. His body pinned you down as he reached up, grabbing a handful of your hair in a ponytail and tugging it. His other hand rested on your back, between your shoulder blade, pushing you into the mattress, leaving your ass in the air as he entered you again from behind, this time almost effortlessly.

“Satoru...” you almost sobbed- it was all too much, but the man behind you wasn’t deterred. He stroked your hair, gently caressing it, “You are doing so good sweetheart- taking it all so well.” He breathed out, encouraging you. He was panting too, and you could tell he was close.

Your thoughts were cut off as his grip tightened on your hair again, further pushing you into the mattress, cutting you off, but not suffocating you.

He continued pounding into you at an inhuman pace, his groans and grunts sending a shudder through you. His pace was unpredictable-mixed. Some were hard and shallow, and some we deep and slow. You didn’t know what was next, and the unpredictability of his actions made everything even better - hotter.

Surprise shot through you as his hand left your back, only to be replaced by a surge of anticipation as he reached for your throat. His fingers curled around your skin, firm and urgent, as he pulled you up. Your back arched instinctively, your body meeting his halfway. He angled your face towards his with a possessive hold, his gaze burning into yours. The space between you vanished as his lips met yours in a rough, demanding kiss that ignited a fire within you.

Your head was spinning- you were so close to another orgasm- your third? Forth? You didn’t know, but the way Satoru twitched around you told you he was close too, “Don’t stop Satoru, p-please don’t stop,” you cried out, your voice so desperate.

“Oh sweetheart, not planning to,” he repeated his words from earlier, his voice laced with satisfaction, probably because of the state you were in.

“That’s it, love, you’re handling it so well” he praised against your lips, his thrust getting impatient and sloppy.

His lips left yours as he reached for your neck, hovering over that one spot. He sucked, hard and you came all over his dick “That’s right baby, cum all over my cock.”

Your mind exploded, as white-hot pleasure shot through you, making your eyes roll back as you screamed, barely paying any attention to what left your lips.

Satoru kept driving into your overly sensitive pussy, chasing the orgasm that finally came to him. He groaned, loud and shamelessly. You felt him shudder as he came inside you, filling you up again.

Wetness trickled down your thigh. It was such a mess as Satoru kept driving into you, fucking you through the last of his orgasm, before pulling away with a pained hiss.

A wave of blissful exhaustion washed over you. Every muscle in your body felt pleasantly heavy, yet completely relaxed. Satoru settled beside you, his touch grounding you in the afterglow of your shared pleasure. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, sending shivers down your still-heated skin. Despite the languor in your limbs, a contented smile played on your lips.

Your eyelids felt heavy as you turned to face him, but Satoru's gaze held a spark that contradicted any fatigue. His eyes narrowed slightly, a mischievous glint dancing in their depths.

That could only mean one thing - “How does a shower sound, sweetheart?” - he wasn’t done yet.

And you knew it wasn’t a question, just a statement disguised as a question. Still, you tried to protest, “Satoru, I am so tired,” you said. You felt drained, the exhaustion clutched to your limbs, but Satoru just picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder, “I know baby, but you have got one more in you,” he put you down in the shower, his hands around your waist, supporting you, “Two, if we really tried,” he smirked.

He turned the tap as the warm water enveloped you both, washing away the afterglow of your orgasm. The bathroom filled with steam, swirling around you like a fragrant mist. Satoru's hands remained on your waist, his touch a steady anchor as the hot water relaxed your tired muscles. You leaned into him instinctively, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

The water flowed down his body, highlighting the sculpted planes of his chest and the definition of his arms. His head tilted back slightly, eyes closed in a moment of pure peace as water flowed through his hair, down his face and over his body. In that moment, he looked breathtakingly vulnerable, and a wave of tenderness washed over you.

You turned around and reached for the washcloth and body wash, your back facing Satoru, when a hand suddenly grabbed your neck from behind, pulling you back and forcing you to turn around as Satoru’s lips slammed onto yours.

Your hand held onto his body as your legs gave out, knees buckling under his touch. His hands trailed down your back, finally gripping your ass and hooking your legs up, wrapping them around his body and he pressed you against the cold bathroom tile, his cock resting against your core.

His thumb traced your bottom lips, “Trying to get away from me, love?” he asked, and without giving you a chance to respond, his lips found yours again.

He moved, kissing and licking the drops of water away from your jaw, shoulder and chest, before he lined himself with you, burying himself deep in you.

Your orgasm started building all too soon. “Not now, love,” he said - of he could tell, he knew your body like the back of his hand. He reached between your bodies to play with your clit, “Only when I tell you to,” he smirked.

That fucker was challenging you, making it difficult for you. His cock kept brushing against all the right spots, while his fingers stimulated your clit. And if that wasn’t enough, his hand created a path all over your body, while his lips traced over that path. “Can’t you handle it, baby?” he asked, the amusement clear in his voice as his smirk deepened.

He wanted you to fail.

“I can-fuck- I can handle this,” your voice was breathless, but you were determined to finish this game with him.

You could feel his cock twitching and saw the way his brows furrowed. He was close.

Finally, he said the words you’ve been waiting to hear, “Come for me, love,” and your body took his command like an oath, as another orgasm hit you like a truck. You could feel every single nerve of your body come alive, singing praises for him. You didn’t know anything - didn’t feel anything - except that you were screaming his name.

He soon followed you, his cum filling you, leaking down your thighs, mixing with water. His hands rested beside your head, supporting his weight, as the orgasm took over him, a hiss escaping his lips, his breathing laboured.

He held you, your legs still wrapped around him, and you were thankful for it because you had lost control over your body.

Finally, after catching his breath, he said, “Let’s get you cleaned up, Huh?”

A coarse cotton towel, barely concealing the sculpted planes of his chest, hung low on Satoru's waist. He took a fluffy white towel, the soft fabric gently drying you. His touch lingered on your back, sending shivers down your spine as he brushed the towel over your sensitive skin. The steam from the shower still hung in the air, a gentle mist that swirled around you. You let out a long, languid yawn, your eyelids drooping as a wave of exhaustion washed over you.

Satoru looked up, his smile melting your heart. "You did so good today, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice husky. "Took me so well." You didn't have the energy to respond, but a sleepy smile played on your lips.

He scooped you up in his arms, the warmth of his body a delicious contrast to the coolness of the air. You wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. Despite your exhaustion, a sense of contentment bloomed within you.

Satoru carried you effortlessly from the bathroom, the rhythmic thud of his footsteps a comforting lullaby. He navigated the bedroom with ease, his gaze never leaving yours. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting long shadows that danced on the walls.

He gently settled you onto the soft comfort of the bed, the crisp sheets sending a cool caress against your skin. Reaching down, he pulled the duvet up, its fluffy warmth enveloping you like a cocoon as he cuddled with you. You sighed contentedly, burrowing deeper into the covers, the delicious scent of his cologne and laundry detergent lingering on the fabric.

"Aren't you gonna sleep?" you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru's hand tightened around your body as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "No, I have to leave soon," he said, a touch of regret in his voice. His hands brushed through your damp hair, fingers brushing over your back. "Maybe I'll sleep on the flight." Truthfully, though, he just wanted to hold you close while you slept, to memorize the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

You barely registered his words, your mind already drifting off. "Wake me up before you leave, 'kay?" you mumbled, your eyes fluttering shut.

You felt Satoru smile against your forehead as he whispered, "Of course I will," his voice laced with a promise.

a/n: God I am really nervous about this, but I hope you enjoyed it! If there was any mistake, I apologise. I proofread this 2-3 times but honestly, my brain reads what it wants to read but not what is actually written. 😭

I wrote this after my conversation with @lostfracturess about how Gojo would be in bed lmaoo. This is mainly inspired by what she writes!

Also, @whereflowerswenttodie had a sneak peek of this and helped me figure out some stuff!

But yes, please please please let me know what you thought of this, it would be greatly appreciated!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 days ago

Text

No More

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, so much angst, hurt/comfort, small fluff at the end, pre-established relationship, past abusive/toxic relationship, soft Dean

Summary/Warnings: Some scars don't really fade. They just fester and rot, remaining unattended in your body because you can't really remember how to heal them.

And Dean can't fix this for you. But he can give you somewhere safe to fix yourself.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! This one's heavy guys. If you think that past abusive relationships might be a no go for you, make the right choice for yourself <3. If not, enjoy (?) the story.

Word Count: 4k

It had been a good hunt. An objectively good hunt. Done in two days, no bodies to burn or bury, an alright bar in the town, and Sam managing to get his own room because he’s sick of you trying to bang Dean in front of him.

“Hey, don’t blame my girl for how you’re always sticking your ass in our business-“

“We share a room, Dean!” Sam had said, half-throwing his hands in the air. “Where else am I supposed to stick my ass if not in our communal living space-“

Dean had snorted. “Communal living space? Dude, you sound like such a jackass-“

“Why, because I can use big words like space?”

“I- Watch it, Sammy-“

“I’ll watch it if you stop trying to fuck on my bed!”

They’d kept arguing. You’d remained silent, picking at the wood of the table and wondering if—should you actually attempt to—you could sink into Dean’s chest and just stay there for a while. It would be warm and solid, and probably not all that safe—that man got himself stabbed and shot a lot—but safer than being in you. Then your traitorous and useless body, made only to be snapped in half. It must have something written on it or in it, emit some kind of blacklight or stench that said weak. Dumb, weak little bitch, lucky to have this because you don’t deserve it. Couldn’t deserve it.

Better, you could turn to stone, right here in the booth. If you could do that, you’d never get another bruise on your throat or hear venomous words spat in your ear. Sam and Dean could leave you behind and never have to feel any guilt. Dean could stop having to pretend he likes you as more than a body, and pull away without beating himself up about abandoning you like a used and worn couch.

Moth-eaten and stained, only still in the house because it feels wrong to throw it out. Because you have a little sentimentality for the couch when it was nice, before it had been beaten and abused and reduced to just a lumpen sack of feathers and cloth.

You don’t think that comparison is fair to the couch.

At least the couch was once useful.

Because it had been a good hunt.

You were the problem.

You’d slipped and wavered and fallen. But the whole place had smelled like lavender soap, and it had carried you back to where that same smell had suffocated you. He had loved that smell, and said it made you seem prettier and softer than you were.

This whole case had reeked of him. And you’d told yourself you’d be fine. That it was in the past, and he wasn’t supposed to have that kind of control over you anymore. That the world seems gray in that vamp nest, but it was winter, so that was to be expected. And when you’d been knocked flat on your back, you’d seen a crack in the ceiling—identical to the one that had been over his bed—but had been a coincidence. Ceilings cracked, and there were only so many patterns in the world.

And when a Vamp had wrapped its hand around your throat, that was just something that happened to hunters. You all got hurt and beaten and had close calls. That was the job. You’d faced worse than this. You’d faced blood coating your fingers and splattered on your face, guts pooling at your feet and long moments where you’d been sure no one would come and save you.

Dean had always saved you. Even before you’d started doing more—and then more and more and more, until it seemed pretty obvious you were dating and it was more exhausting to fight it than accept it—Dean had always been saving you. He’d had to do it today, yanking the Mare off your chest and cradling your head against his chest until you were breathing easily.

Yet again, you’d been the problem. The hunt had been easy and simple, and you’d still fucked it because you sucked. You were dead-weight. You couldn’t stop feeling the hand around your throat—imprinted like a tattoo that made your words small and body smaller—and you couldn’t stop the weighed down feeling of hopelessness. Your brain stuck on a scratching loop around the Vamp’s hiss of dumb, annoying, weak little bitch, until you couldn’t manage to smile at anything at all.

It just made you feel worse, because Dean might be worried you don’t think he’s being funny. That whenever he makes truly horrible joke and you don’t giggle like a lovesick schoolgirl, it’s because he’s gone wrong.

He’s done nothing. You really hope he just gives up and tosses you aside, because he shouldn’t have to put up with worry about something so valueless. He’d find someone else. Someone better and more deserving. You’re just lucky he ever even looked at you, let alone bothered to try and stay. To try and be the hero that keeps rescuing the princess, even when the princess is just a peasant who can put on a show.

You’d tricked him into thinking you’re better than you are. Lied to him until you’d trapped him, and now he had to stay with you, because he’s a good man and you’re simply the fucking worst thing in the world to darken his path, and he’ll leave if he really saw you-

That’s not fair to Dean. He is a good man. Better than he was, by miles and stretches and eons, but that really just made it hurt more. Because Dean’s not him, but you’re still you. The same you who was weak, and stupid, and undeserving. That doesn’t change. It only grows now that you have someone you really don’t deserve. Someone who glows in the low light of the night, laughs in a way that fills the bar with life, and always touches you like he’d like to keep you.

You aren’t something that should be kept. But he’s doing it anyway.

And there’s some bile in your throat at the thought. And that’s just another way in which this—in which you—are horrible.

But the worst part was that things like this happened all the time, and you still weren’t strong enough to build an immunity. To just move on, like a big girl. To actually teach yourself that he was in the past, and this you—now, in the present, sitting with your smoking hot boyfriend’s arm around your shoulders—didn’t have any right to be afraid anymore.

“Are you feeling okay?”

You blink at Dean as he guides you out of the bar, Sam walking a few feet ahead and the wind of the night is so cold-

Dean says your name, his brow furrowing in the way it does when he’s worried, and you give him your best, softest, most docile smile.

“Everything’s fine.” You say, and you can almost believe yourself. Your voice is gentle and small and doesn’t sound like you, but it’s the best way to end the questions. You’ll fold over. You’ll bend until you snap. And nobody needs to push you for that to happen.

But Dean’s still frowning. “Are you sure? ‘Cause if you’re feeling well we can head back to the bunker tonight, and Sam won’t have to get his own room-“

“No, Dean, I’m-“

“Yeah, no, Dean.” Sam turns, shooting his brother a glare. “How would I get home?”

“You’re smart, Sammy, you’d figure it out-“

You tune out the rest of their fake-argument. You’re mostly listening to the wind. It’s loud, and strong, and cold. So cold, biting at your skin and making your joints stiff, but at least you can feel it. It’s not numbing, and it’s indifferent, and Sam and Dean don’t seem half as affected by it as you are, but they’re also not weak-

“C’mon,” Dean says your name, and you realize you’re moving again. That he’s guiding you into the shotgun seat, and a grumpy looking Sam is clambering into the back.

“Wait, why-“

“We’re dropping Sam off, then heading back.” Dean turns the engine on, his voice barely raising to match the rumble, and you’re not sure you heard him right.

“Why- I don’t-“

“I wanna go home.” Dean shrugs, and it’s too casual. “And Sammy’s a big boy, he’ll be fine without Mommy and Daddy watching him.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, built by Sam’s groan from behind you, and you can’t stop the words from slipping out. “I told you to stop calling us that.”

“Yeah, but you also told me that you were-“ Dean cuts himself off, shaking his head slightly and clearing his throat. “That you weren’t into car sex, and that ain’t ever stopped us-“

You cover his mouth with a hand—his shit-eating grin just as blinding in only his eyes—and Sam makes a fake gagging sound.

And you think Dean knows. That he’s realized that you’re just so tired and weak and useless, and he’s trying to work out if it’s worth keeping you around. If you’ll listen to him and do what he asks—and you will, you always will, not because of the threat of being left but because he’s Dean and he couldn’t lead you astray if he tried—or if he needs to leave you on the pavement to scrape yourself back together.

So you don’t fight him, or insist that Sam can have his privacy and sanity without getting another room or you and Dean leaving, because you don’t really want to be touched like that right now. You just drop Sam off at the motel, grab your bags, and slump back into the Impala’s bench as Sam and Dean exchange low words outside.

By the time Dean joins you, you’re half asleep. And you try to stay awake—to entertain him half as much as he entertains you—but he pulls you right into his side, lets your head rest on his shoulder, and Dean doesn’t smell like lavender. He smells like evergreen and apples, he’s warm when your ears are still a little numb from the cold, and when he starts to hum along to the low music, you’re gone. Everything fades, and it’s just the deep sound of Dean’s voice like a lullaby and a big, firm hand on your thigh that isn’t going to leave a bruise.

Maybe you don’t deserve a bruise.

Maybe you don’t deserve anything. Maybe you’re lucky to be stuck in this bed with stinging marks around your throat, and a voice like nails on your ears sneering that you’re a weak little bitch. If you were stronger you’d fight back, but you’ve been broken in and can’t be put back together. If you were stronger, you’d scream for help, but you’re also so horribly you that you know nobody will ever come and save you.

Who would try to save you? Who could possibly care about something like you enough to bother and patch up you up, to take string to your skin and heart and organs and tie them back together? You’re not strong enough to make anything stick. You’re made of glass and linen, and any attempt to put you back together would be futile, because you’d probably just break further. Someone would have to be patient enough to pull you back together when you spooled apart, and warm enough to fuse and meld you in a way that wouldn’t shatter with one touch.

You don’t think a person like that would be real. And if they are, they wouldn’t want you.

Because they’d be strong, and you really are weak.

If you were strong, you would’ve left. But you’re still here in this freezing cold bed, staring at the crack on the ceiling.

And you don’t think you’ll ever be more than that. Not as another hand wraps around your throat—you don’t remember what you said, but you must have said something—and there’s a heavy weight on your chest and you can’t breathe-

“Breathe.” A deep voice that sounds like it cares says your name, and you listen. “It’s okay, you’re okay, just breathe for me.”

For him. There’s a hand on your head that’s combing through your hair and pressing you into a place that warm and solid and safe. You’re held steady by an arm around your waist, and it fits so well there. You don’t think it could hurt you if it tried.

He’d sounds kind and caring, and he’d said your name like you mattered, so you’ll try to breathe.

And you don’t remember how to do it for yourself yet, so—just for now, until you can teach yourself to do anything for you—you’ll breathe for him.

“There you go, baby,” the voice mutters, and when you make a weak, choked sound his body tenses, but he doesn’t push you away. “I know, but I’ve got you. Swear I’ve got you.”

He says he’s got you. Dean says he’sgot you.

And you believe him.

So you start to cry.

He’d never liked it when you cried. He’d said it was useless, and that the sound was annoying.

Dean just keeps holding you, and muttering soothing words in your ear until the tears stop flowing. He only keeps rubbing a circle on your back until your breathing slows, and you can lean back to meet his gaze.

He’s not angry. Just worried.

You’re going to start crying again.

“Are,” you sniff, trying to pull yourself back together by force, and look around the dark space. “Are we still in the car?”

“Pulled over earlier.” He mutters, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone with a care you don’t deserve. “You started doing that tossing shit when you’re about to have a nightmare. Wanted to get ahead of it.”

You swallow. You’d made him pull over, and you had enough nightmares that he knew what one looked like, and you were just a burden and problem and he should just shove you out of the Impala and leave you to rot like carrion on the highway-

“Stop doin’ that.” Dean grunts, and you tense.

“I- I’m not-“

“You’re freakin’ out. You’re freakin’ me out.” Dean scans over your face, pulling you close until you’re half on his lap. “If you’re hurt, you know you gotta tell me, sweetheart. I’m not looking to do a zombie bite thing, where we get home and you start bleeding all over the floor. So tell me.” He takes a deep breath, and his exhale is warm over your lips. “Please tell me.”

You can’t tell him. You’re not ready for him to leave yet.

You drop your brow to Dean’s, taking low, slow breaths and shaking your head. “It’s okay-“

“It’s fucking not.” He snaps your name, his grip tightening slightly, and you flinch. “I- shit- did I hurt you-“

“No.” You mumble. “I’m just tired-“

“You’ve been sleeping for five hours. You’ll get another seven once we get goin’ again. But,” Dean narrows his eyes, even as his grip loosens once more. “We’re not getting back on the road until you answer me. What’s wrong.”

“I-“ You cut yourself off with a choked sound. He’s angry. You’d made him angry, and he won’t hurt you but if he did you’d deserve it-

You start crying again, and Dean’s eyes widen. This is it. He’s going to push you out the window and you’ll have to wander through the marshes until the mud just swallows you whole-

Dean pulls you fully into his lap, holding you there carefully and muttering in your ear with a care and reverence you don’t deserve.

“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry, fuck, please don’t cry-“

“No, it’s- I’m-“ You take a long, strangled breath, wrapping your arms around his torso until you’re sure you’re going to suffocate him. “It’s not you, Dean, I- It’s not your problem-“

“Fucking hell it’s not my problem.”

You shake your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Maybe you really could move in there, and nothing would ever hurt you again. “It’s- You don’t have to-“

“I do.” He mutters, guiding your head back to meet his gaze. He brushes the tears from your eyes. You don’t deserve this. “You’re hurtin’.”

It’s not a question, but you nod anyways. Holding a lie too long has never done you a favor before.

“Tell me how to fix it.”

“You- you can’t fix this,” you mumble, staring at the bridge of his nose. You aren’t worthy of looking him in the eyes. “It’s, it’s just me, Dean. I’m just like this.”

He frowns. “Like what?”

“Weak.” You whisper. “I- I risked the hunt, I always risk the hunt, and I’m not strong like you and Sam are, and I just wanna go home-“

“We’re going home, babygirl.” Dean’s voice is soft, and low, and cautious, and you let out another sob that shakes your whole body. “And you’re not weak, you ganked like three vamps-“

“Could’ve done more.”

“There were seven of them. Three is pretty awesome numbers.” He gives you a nervous small smile. “You’re awesome. I don’t know who’s been telling you otherwise, but you are.”

That’s what breaks you. The floodgates don’t open—they’d barely held anything to begin with—but something snaps along your spine, and you can’t stop the horrible, rotten truth from falling out of your mouth.

“But he was right.” You whisper. “I’m weak, Dean, and I don’t know why you can’t see it.”

“There’s nothing to see, and I- Who’s he?”

You wish that you’d slept better. If you had, your tongue wouldn’t be loosened with pure exhaustion, and you could lie.

But you’re so tired. Unbelievably tired. Mind-numbingly and persistently tired, all the time, and it’s grow so intolerable you just want to be anything else. And if what you are is weak and alone, at least you’ll know that’s where you're supposed to be.

And you’d never wanted Dean to know. He was never supposed to learn from your own mouth how foul you are. He was supposed to find out himself, and then leave you like everyone always has the right to do.

But you’re telling him that you’re weak and fearful, that you’d never been able to fight tooth and spit and leave. You waited so, so long to leave and even then, it had only been because he’d been gone for a while, and you were so tired, and you needed to be anywhere but there.

And you stepped out, and never gone back.

There’s not going back now either. It all spills out, from how you met him to the day you left. And Dean’s so quiet. Only watching you as you speak and squeezing his hold on your hips when you trail off or cry.

But he doesn’t kick you out. And when you finished, you’re still in his lap. You can’t read the expression on his face. The highway lights are dim, and there’s nothing obviously hateful or disgusted written over his features, but you might just be too stupid to see it-

“I’m-“ Dean clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You blink at him, the tears still blurring your vision. “What.”

“That’s- I didn’t know, I never even fucking guessed- I should’ve guessed-“

“How would you have guessed?” You whisper, risking a drop of your brow back to his. He lets you stay. “I never told you-“

“But I know you. I should’ve seen it, you- I should’ve made you feel like you could tell me, I-“ His face hardens in his second, his grip tightening, but not to suffocated you. To protect you. To wrap his whole body around yours and keep it there safely. “I should fucking kill him. Cut off his arms and stuff them up his ass, get Cas to put the fear of god in him-“

“Dean, no-“

“He doesn’t just get to fucking do that to you and keep walking around-“

“He shouldn’t.” You mumble. “But he did. Men do all the time. And, I- I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-“

“Don’t apologize.” He grunts, dragging his thumb over your cheekbone. “You’ve never done anything wrong, baby, it’s just that son of a bitch, who’s gonna get a knock on his door soon-“

“No knocking on doors,” you wrap your arms around his neck, shaking your head against his brow. “Please, Dean, that’s- that’s not what I want-“

“What do you want?”

His question is immediate, and it crashes into you like a tidal wave. Numbing your whole body and kickstarting it in the same second, because you don’t know. You haven’t really known, haven’t had a direction, in years. You wandered and wandered and just tried to keep on breathing, to keep on your feet, and never let yourself look back.

You’d never been good at that last part. You kept on breathing because you didn’t have a choice. You’d kept on your feet because if you faltered, you’d fall over and it would be so painful to get back up.

But you’d always looked back. On nights like this one, over and over and over until your eyes were sunken and your neck was craned to always make sure nothing was behind you.

It might be nice to rest. To breathe not because it’s a labor, but because it feels nice to breathe the same air as Dean.

It would be amazing to keep looking back—it’s a habit, and it will die a slow and withering death until it’s gone, and you never pinpoint the moment you lost it—but to also start looking forward. Looking for that place to rest, that you already seem to have found.

What do you want?

“I want some food.” You whisper, leaning back to scan over Dean’s face. “And a nap. Please.”

Dean gives you a small grin, and nods. “I think we can do that. And after, you’ll give me an address-“

“Please don’t kill him, Dean.” You drop your voice slightly, holding his gaze. “I just want to stay with you, and to never see him again. Please.”

Two more wants. You’re on a roll.

“Just me?” Dean asks, and you don’t he believes you.

But it really is the truth.

“Just you.” You say, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, and humming when he grins against them.

“Lucky you,” he mutters your name against your lips, squeezing his arms around you “I think I know a dude who can swing that.”

You let out a soft giggle—barely a breath, but there—Dean squeezes his arms again, and you really like how he does that. It’s not because he’s trying to remind you where you belong, it’s because he trying to check that you’re there. Like he’s just as afraid that you’ll flee as you are that he’ll shove you aside, and he’s trying to hold you together with everything he has before you slip away.

“You’re really cheesy,” you say, and he chuckles.

“You like it. We start drivin’ again, you think you’ll be able to get some sleep?”

“Yeah, but food-“

“We’re only a few hours out from home.” Dean shrugs, really making no attempt to move you from his lap. “I’ll order whatever you’re feeling when we get back.”

You pause, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck as you think. “How about pizza?”

“Who’s cheesy now-“

You lean back to give him a mock glower. “Dean Winchester.”

“What did you not like that one-“

“It was horrible-“

“That’s not a no-“

You cut him off with a long, soft kiss, and you like it here. Wherever Dean is, you’ll like it there.

“Can we please get pizza?” You mumble, and he nods. It’s such a small, normal movement.

It makes you feel a little more found.

“We can get anything you want, princess.”

End Note: Oof that was a sad one. Sorry squad.

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