#keeper of my heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hwaitham · 7 months

Text

𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓾𝓷𝓪𝓻𝔂 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚

hatori sohma x f!reader. nsfw — mdni. established relationship ﾉ soff' sex ﾉ reader is rather clingy :3 ﾉ praise + sweet hatori + u're both so in love with each other n' this whole thing is so cheesy n' prosy um ! ! ! ﾉ the sohma curse hasn't been broken yet in this fic ﾉ vry slight infantilization ﾉ petnames ﾉ foreplay heavy ﾉ finger sucking bcos ! ! oooo ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა

you are tired, tired. you are very tired.

even with your eyes closed and head laying in a pool of moonlight, you cannot find it within yourself to sleep.

because he is not here—your hatori. it’s hard to fall into a peaceful slumber without being wished a goodnight by him; you must be tucked in, fluffy quilt pulled up to your chin and his thumb smoothing over the lift of your cheeks before your eyelids are kissed so you’re blessed with nothing but the sweetest dreams of you and him.

alas, he isn’t here. so you do what you can when you’re cold and alone in his bed; through heavy half-blinks, you watch the snowfall outside the bedroom window, dusting the branches of the old oak tree in the garden and piling up on the sill.

you’ll have to ask hatori when he comes home whether he would join you in playing in it tomorrow, building a snowman like you did two winters ago when he confessed his love for you.

(you placed his stethoscope around the neck of packed snow, his glasses over the pebbled eyes, pulled him out of his office by the sleeve of his doctor’s coat—hatori, doesn't this snowman look like you? he'd realized it seemingly doesn’t take much for him to fall.)

you smile thinking of that time, dream of all the times to come, happy and sad and everything in between. you wait and wait some more, and just as the throbbing in your chest starts to become a bit too unbearable, the smells of tobacco and mint begin to shroud your senses until all can feel is the fluttering breeze of calming fingertips breathe occasional kisses on your spine.

the sudden heat that cuts through the frigid air surrounding you rattles you awake, sends goosebumps down your legs and flushes your limbs full of light—it fills the gaping hole in your heart, the one that aches for him, the one that can only be healed by him.

“hatori?”

before the heels of your palms can find your eyes to scrub out the sleep from them, they’re taken a hold of by a larger hand—pruned fingertips squeezing gently, soothingly down on your wrist. “i’m here.”

“you’re here,” you whisper, smile drowsily when you hear your lover’s voice over the hot shell of your ear, his words followed by a lingering kiss.

“go back to sleep, dear.”

“uh huh…”

you’re too tired to tell him you weren’t exactly sleeping in the first place.

disregarding his qualms, you blindly feel around for him, shuffling through the sheets and pillows until you find his shoulders—strong and broad and honey-hued as he sits before you with his torso bare, silk pyjamas hanging low on his hips.

“i missed you…”

you do everything you can but embrace him, pull him down to the bed, cling to his bicep and rub your nose along the handsome vein of his neck, feel him up entirely beneath your greedy paws. hatori is lean and defined with layers of taut muscle, but you notice he’s starting to get a bit soft around the waist; there’s the tiniest bit of fat you’re able to pinch between your thumb and index finger, and you can only giggle to yourself at the fact.

you’re feeding me well.

it’s told to you silently in his barely-there smile pressed against the tresses of your hair that scatter over a pillow. when he inhales a breath, his nostrils fill with juniper and aquatic accord.

you smell like him.

you must have sprayed his cologne onto the sheets.

“missed you s’much.”

hatori laughs wistfully, shakes his head when you whine, nuzzle your forehead over his cheek in that endearing puppy-like way you do. “you missed me so much? i was only gone a few hours.”

you hum idly, sleep quickly overtaking you now that your lover is in your hold. as much of it as he can be in, at least.

his body is warm, gently warm. not searing; rather faintly, something like the moon—not distant or far away, but a soft glow. light full of memory and promise and it’s beautiful. it’s the light of the celestial body that shines brightest in your sky, and it’s in every brush of his fingers over your skin, every strand of hair that tickles your nose where he creates a corner in heaven just for you.

your hands curl into the silky onyx that sweep over the nape of his neck—it’s the slightest bit damp, you notice; pearls of water from the snowflakes that have melted over his skin. with one deep inhale from where your face hides in the shallow space between his neck and shoulder, you smell your body wash on him through his musk, and your lips stretch into a lazy smile.

it’s a feminine, delectably sugary scent, but hatori doesn’t care.

he doesn’t think there’s anything in this world that drives such a primal part of him than the fact that you two smell like each other, that anyone can smell you on him—him on you, and that from it they will know you belong to each other.

“still feels like forever when you’re away from me,” it comes out as a quiet slur of words, one that hatori can barely hear from where you burrow as deep as you possibly can into his skin. he smiles wide at your sleepy thoughts, true thoughts; he loves when you get like this, clingy and needy and seemingly wanting him to melt into you and flow through your veins, as if feeling him skin-to-skin simply isn’t enough.

“forever, huh?”

“mhm,” you whisper, voice sweet and muffled and hinted with the most minuscule amount of coy innocence (he has no issue picking up on it) as you lean your chin on the sharp blade of his shoulder, hug his arm close to your chest in an attempt to soak up the silver-dewed warmth that radiates off him like a sponge until it saturates you fully. “i love you…”

“and i love you.” hatori lowers his face until it’s level with yours, easing you into submission with a graze of his mouth over your brow, your cheek, your jaw and finally your lips. his teasing ministrations don’t match his voice—breathless and full of yearning and hunger—almost like your assertions are enough to leave his lungs bereft of oxygen.

“but i love you more, i swear it!” with a petulant whine, you grapple at his pinky as if to make a promise on it, wrapping your fingers around the larger digit and shaking it around with as much strength as your sleep-laden self can muster.

“oh, you child.”

he blushes deeply, heart beating in double time at the endearing, rather infantile way you seem to act with him when you’re all worn down from the labours of your afternoon and in need of him, his touch, his love.

then you’re wrapping your legs around a sinewy thigh, kneading your balled fists weakly into his traps, and then he’s grabbing your sea horse plushie to stuff in the steadily closing gap between your chests, lest he turn into one himself when he inevitably gets lost in the throes of intimacy that creep up his spine. “careful, now…”

“love you more than anything, hatori.”

and it’s the way you say it—so sincerely, like you’re feeding him a piece of your soul, like you know just your heart alone will leave him unsatiated—that makes the moon no longer shine. it makes him crack at the surface and burst into fragments of rock, diamond flares scattering like comets across the sky for the world to wish upon.

(but there’s really only one wish he would ever truly grant.)

“i mean it, and it’s true…”

you reach up to press a palm in the divot between his pecs, where his heart lays shielded beneath the ribs that you’ve squeezed your way through and built a home—for him and for you. the sudden onslaught of affection has him flushing with a tender heat, bottom lip pulled in between teeth and lilted up into a shy smile, cheeks tingling with gold.

“‘tori… i wanna kiss…”

“just one, okay? and then straight back to bed.”

“mhm, just one, promise i’ll be good—wanna be good for you.” and that’s all it takes for hatori to be certain that one kiss is bound to become one thousand—the desperation in your voice and the legs that wrap around his thigh tighter and oh.

you’re soaked.

he can feel the sticky dampness through the thick flannel of your pyjama pants, from the crotch where you try to rock your hips over his leg, from the insides of your thighs; you’re dripping slick down your legs and your knee slides along his clothed cock and his head spins, resolve falters.

so, hatori does the only thing he can do when he can’t calm his racing heart, and he kisses you without any reservations.

every kiss to your lips feels like it’s the first— where adoration streams from your fingers as you dip them into the hollows of his clavicle, where he feels a lump just beneath that works its way up to his mouth and stuffs it full of cotton; it’s staggering when you cling to him like this, loving him so tenderly, feeding your heart to him pure and raw with a silver spoon.

“wan’ more…” you’re pleading against his lips as soon as he removes them from your own, gaze drawn to the string of spit that tethers him to you.

“whatever happened to ‘being good’?” your lover’s voice is dripping mirth; it’s low and teasing and gentle and it makes your chest burn with so much love; you swear you’d do anything for him, everything to keep him tangled up with you like this until the end of forever.

“just a couple more kisses, please? else i’ll die.”

and you’re looking up at him with these eyes—wobbly tears dewing on your lashes and pupils blown to the heavens and teeming with equal measures of love and lust—you’re looking up at him like he’s hand-painted each star in the sky, like he’s superlunary.

you really think you’d die without him.

and you’re just so fucking cute begging for him like this, with your heart tangled in your throat as silent words bubble and spill over your pouty lips. even after all this time of being together, hatori doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of being so wanted, so cared for, so purely and innocently loved by you.

“well, i wouldn’t be a very good doctor if i let someone die on me, now, would i?”

“hatoriii…”

“shh, let me put you to sleep, my love.”

you nod and hum in admission, curling your fingers tighter into the plushie that joins you to him, shying into the wide neck of your—his—sleep shirt you have on when you hear the lilt in his voice; it’s soft, airy, dreamy, and he moves to hover over you before slipping two warm fingers into your pyjamas.

his touch is so gentle, treating you like fine porcelain—and his touch is so slow, so cautious, like he’s afraid that you’re nothing but some figment of the imagination he’s lost to his childhood, the sweetest of fairytale dreams, one that he doesn’t ever want to wake up from.

he tugs the flannel past your hips, past your knees and calves and ankles, dancing his lips over your sensitive skin as he kisses the crenulated imprint left by the waistband, right atop the delicate satin trim and dainty bow of your now exposed panties.

sweet and pink and patterned with ditsy daisies, three layers of frills adorning each of the legholes.

it’s his favourite set that you own.

(you very well know of this fact.)

“naughty, naughty… were you planning this?,” hatori coos at you—darling girl, beautiful you. he noses along the outline of your puffy folds, swallowing a quiet growl when your scent invades all his senses, when he feels the arousal dribbling down the insides of your thigh cool and dampen his cheeks. “i suppose you really can’t fall asleep without a little assistance, hm?”

it’s not as if he expected anything less.

he leans in to tap to your clit through the fabric, falling lightheaded at how it’s already so swollen, at how your cunt is already drooling, at how you’re already whining and whimpering so greedily, at how it’s all for him.

looks like someone’s really been missing me. he tucks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to slip them to the side, exposing yourself to him. i know, baby, i know. webs of slick shine against the moonlight coming from outside the windowpane, and hatori’s throat tingles as he dips his tongue into your hole—tasting you, savouring you—saliva spilling over his teeth that he lets dribble out on top of your cunt. shh, it’s okay, ‘m here, gonna take real good care of you, alright? he finally gives your clit a sloppy kiss hello.

“‘tori, ‘s embarrassing—o-oh, hahhh…” the words tangle in your throat and dissipate into the cold air of the bedroom as you try to register how he speaks to you, to your sex. lewdly and unabashedly and coaxing and through the hazy cloud of lust that fills your mind you wonder whether hatori’s been reading his cousin’s rather… erotic novels out of your gaze.

because wherever did he learn to talk like that?

“just want to make you feel good,” he hums, moves back up so that he’s level with your face again and can kiss you, make you taste yourself on him. with his free hand not cradling the crown of your head, hatori clumsily tugs his pyjamas and briefs down to his knees, letting his swollen cock slap up against his abdomen before he takes a hold of it and glides it along your slit. “fuck, sweetheart…”

hatori is of mint and tobacco when he turns his head down and breathes over your lips to look at where his tip oozes hot pre over your sensitive nub, at where your weeping hole furls desperately around nothing; it’s a silent plea to feel him inside you.

“hatori, please—wanna—i-insiiide,” you whine and protest, sink your head deeper into your pillow and dig faint bruises into his biceps with your fingertips.

“patience,” he chides, and then he chuckles, low and hearty and dripping ardour and disbelief, for how did he attain the unattainable?

your smile, your heart, your flesh, a love so tangible that just feeling you against him in this capacity is enough to make him forget the nightmare of a curse he’d been born into, even if only for a brief moment.

his palm smoothes over your hair as he grinds his cock hard into your folds and your back arches off the bed instinctively, soft little sounds spewing from your lips that only serve to heat up the coil curling around his heart. “love you, love you, i love…”

he pacifies your babbles with lingering kisses over your neck, your sternum, your lips—and i love you—it drips like molasses over your tongue and settles into your lungs; you’re left choking on the pleas that come tumbling up your throat, legs itching to wrap around his waist and pull him closer, but you can’t. instead, you whine and writhe under him, voice pitchy and petulant.

“want you, need you, please, please, hatori?”

the sounds you make are the prettiest on the earth, hatori is sure of this much. it makes him shiver almost uncontrollably, stokes the embers in his belly until he’s swallowed up in your flame of blue.

“you—h-hah, c’mere, you—“

hatori devours you, staining your lips with his saliva, licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue until the clash of teeth-on-teeth rings louder than your broken moans. and his love is heavy, your spine throbs at the weight, but it’s nothing short of comfortable.

warm, and familiar—the hand that tethers to yours is the same hand that massages balm into your muscles after the day comes to a close, the mouth that lays hushed praise over your brow is the same mouth that makes you smile and laugh and cry tears of joy and pleasure; it’s the same mouth you feed your heart to.

“hatori!” you’re wailing out his name when his cock catches onto your neglected clit, a searing throb working its way up to the apex of your thighs that makes you scrabble at his chest, ignoring the plushie in between that separates you from him. “pretty please…”

it’s easy to get him to fold like this, in the way you plead him with such broken desperation, wilted like a flower. it’s easy when you look up at him like he’s some deity, tears threatening to spill over your lashes and brows strained with need. he hasn’t prepped you nearly as much as you need to be able to accommodate his size, but he’s almost convinced your greed is enough to make up for the lack of it. and so, he runs the leaking tip of his cock up and down your folds once, twice, three times—each stroke punctuated with a kiss to the swell of your breasts.

“it’s alright, sweetheart, shh. i’ve got you,” he huffs out a gruff expletive when he begins to stretch you out with the flushed head of his cock, your walls hungry as they clamp down around him.

you feel the pain of his girth splitting you open as a dull ache, one that wraps around your tummy and inches down to your core—it’s a slow spreading fire, one you don’t even realize has a hold of you until hatori bottoms out and grinds his pubic bone down on your clit to dissolve the pain.

your eyes flutter shut at the pleasure, jaw falling slack and saliva building at the tip of your tongue—everything feels so good like this: with the warmth radiating from his cock through your fluttering walls and you’re just so full of him and fuck, it’s perfect.

“hah—it’s a tight fit, isn’t it?” hatori’s voice is a gentle croon, low and handsome and silky and reassuring; the love he slathers you in has you sucking him in further, further, as deep as you think you’ve ever felt him.

“hatori, oh, god,” you hiccup on a sweet sob, voice stuffy as you bite down on your plushie and hitch your legs higher up on the sides of his waist, careful not to lock your ankles around him in an embrace. “s’deep—hic! p-please, need you to move…”

“it’s okay, i’m not going anywhere.” he kisses your forehead and pushes into you languidly, almost lazy with his movements as he draws back and forth, back and forth. his rhythm is steady and his cock only barely leaves the sponge of your cervix before he buries himself deep again, so deep you swear you can feel him in your womb.

words catch on the tip of your tongue and they spill as sweet mumbles. it’s cute; you’re so cute, with the tiny nods of your head, brows knit as you attempt to hold off on cumming prematurely, toes curling into the dimples at the bottom of his back and whimpering into your drool-soaked stuffed animal.

and then he angles his thrusts that way— the way that has the head of his cock gliding over your g-spot until he can hear the lewd squelch, squelch, squelch that comes with his ministrations. it makes you squeal, kick your feet and squeeze your eyes shut impossibly tight from how good it feels.

“right there, hm?” hatori tosses his head back to exhale, making a sound where a curt laugh meets a shaky moan, before leaning down to gently knock his nose over yours.

“’t-tori…” it’s a struggle to open your eyes under the weight of sticky tears that cling to your lashes, but you manage to do so anyway, pushing his fringe out of his face with weak fingers and tucking strands of charcoal behind his ears to see all of him.

he’s so beautiful, your hatori.

and you think he sounds just as beautiful with those low, drawn-out moans that simmer off into garbled growls; these are the sounds that make your stomach pulse with the need for more, a warning that just a little more is all you need to unravel. they have you sinking into the bed, caged by his arms and broad frame, your walls moulding to the shape of him, flushing the skin of your entire body with the intensity of the warmth that comes with being so in love.

“a-ah!” your whole body wracks with trembles when his thrusts turn from shallow to deep again, his leaky head swivelling against your cervix and, fuck, you’re already so close—with his thumb drawing lazy hearts over your clit and his strokes long and slow and angled so perfectly against the one spot that has you coating the base of his cock with thick cream.

“hatori, hatori, w-wanna—i wan’—”

your arms move up to drape over his shoulders, but hatori is quick to pin them down next to your head, painfully reminding you of what you don’t have—can’t have. “i know, f-fuck, i know, baby… one day, okay?”

his head falls into your neck and he moans; it’s loud and erotic and your innocent begging makes his heart feel all gooey—soft and pliable as he spills it into your palms, as if it’s yours to keep, yours to hold, yours to treasure forever—and it is, because there’s no one else, will be no one else that can make him feel the way he does quite like you do. god, he loves you.

“o-okay,” you hiccup and sob, from pleasure and pain and the multitudes of emotions in between, you listen to him despite your heart screaming at you, because, “i just, just wanna be good for you, wanna be your everything, ‘tori!”

you are, you’re so good to me, you’re perfect, i love you— he wants to say; you are my everything and i’d give you everything, i love you more than anything in this wretched world—he wants to tell you but he can’t because your timid admission knocks the air out of his lungs, and hatori thinks you don’t realize just how sweet you’re being to him, for him.

and so, he kisses you, slowly and in time with the gentle rock of his hips, feeding you unspoken words that you digest and make a home of in the pit of your soul. it flushes your entire being with light, it collects and swirls around in your head until you find yourself in a haze, drunk on the heat that pulses through you with every grind of his cock into your cunt.

everything is so hot, so cold—the sweat that drips down the backs of your thighs, the breath of your panting against the fingers hatori traces your lips with—everything is just so hot and cold and everything feels so good; you’re knocked out of the present world and somewhere in a haven of white and purple where all you can see, all you can feel is him.

what you wouldn’t give to hold him just a little closer and stay like this forever.

the two digits rubbing over the swell of your bottom lip to collect the spit that’s been sitting there is what brings you back down to earth, and you all but lick meekly at the tips, take both index and middle fingers into your mouth and suck like a good girl.

“you want my fingers?” he groans at the tiny little nods you give him, fresh tears arising that push old ones down your cheeks. his heart pounds wildly against the cage of his ribs. “needy little thing…”

hatori isn’t fucking you fast, but he’s fucking you good—so, so good that it drains all the thought from your head until all you can think about is him—the slow, deep strokes where the head of his cock firmly pokes and prods at the spot that makes you gush, the digits pressing down on your tongue that you drool over, the mindless praise that streams from his lips; precious, precious girl—fuck, you feel so tight—so good to me, aren’t you? my good girl.

his words feel like liquid moonlight— softy glowing, and sweet, and sincere, and you can’t help but drink up every last drop. it fills your tummy with some sort of orb of light, one that has your toes curling into the sheets and fingers wrapping around his forearm tighter; you pull him closer, closer, until the plushie between you digs into your ribs and his nose sweeps over yours with so much delicate affection and all you see and feel is him.

“h-hatori… in my tummy, f-feel you there, feel you everywhere.”

“feel me right here, huh?” he draws his hips back, pulling out of you almost fully before pushing back, slowly, agonizingly—but it feels amazing, so amazing—the swollen head of his cock splitting you, tight against the silkiness of your walls, flush against the sponge of your cervix as he presses himself as deep as he can into you, pushing a palm gently down on your navel. “you want it in your tummy, don’t you? can’t sleep unless you’re full of it, i know…”

it all becomes so much, too much, the wet slaps of his skin against yours, his words, his cockhead spilling pre over your walls and rubbing into the spots that have you stumbling over your breath. you cum without warning, crying out into the column of his neck like the little sweetheart of his that you are, fingers clutching at the thick strands of hair that curl around his neck, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around him, like it loves him.

and, oh, hatori feels it. the love, isolated and purified from the roots of your soul as you feed it to him on your tongue through mumbles and babbles of incoherent words.

regardless, he knows what you mean.

the heat builds and builds and builds at his core, and then the coil fit to snap finally does. he shatters into silver specks as the rapid spasms of your cunt milk him dry—leave him starry-eyed and dizzy as he shoots rope after rope of thick cum into your womb, his cock twitching inside you from the aftershocks of a mind-blowing orgasm.

“fuck, i love you—so much.” hatori huffs it out as a whine before he engulfs you in a bruising kiss, one that you’re almost positive is bound to leave a mark that will last until your next life, and the ones after that.

and it’s overwhelming, so overwhelming—the warmth of his seed oozing thick into you and the burn of the tingles that follow in the path of his touch—you think nothing else in this world and any other can make you feel quite the way he can. you’re certain of it.

“and you’re so pretty…” he continues to lay his praise on you, pressing his lips to your temple as he regains his bearings and looks down to your face.

spit-slicked lips and lazy blinks and slurred little iloveyous tumble from your mouth in half-whispers. even in your disarray you are nothing short of beautiful, other-worldly, hatori thinks. each slow flutter of your lashes is a sweep of the stars you dust into a pile of warmth at his feet; he curls his toes into them and kisses you and it flushes him with so much love, light, feelings he hadn't thought he'd ever be able to experience. he smoothes your hair down and moves to embrace your near sleeping frame—but then he remembers.

he’s reminded by the sweat-soaked plushie pressed against his chest and yours, reminded by how your arms lay free by the sides of your head, your ankles that don’t lock around his waist.

“look, ‘tori… ’s still snowing outside…” you yawn, avert his attention, nuzzle into his palm and point to the window, powdery snow finding rest on the sill, the moon’s light shining through and casting calm, steady falling shadows onto the two of you. “perhaps… we could… make...” you drift off before you have a chance to finish your question, and hatori smiles, endeared.

silly girl.

and then remembers. why he doesn’t resent the sohma curse, at least, not in the same capacity he once had. because he loves you like a child—freely, purely, without having to think.

and soon, soon, he’ll be able to hold you like a lover—he feels it in each passing day, his bond growing weaker, the rope snapping each individual thread at a time, thinning whenever he spares even the tiniest of glances at you and you call him by his name in that sweet, sweet voice of yours.

the owner of his glowing heart.

“yes, we should make a snowman tomorrow, dear.”

soon.

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #hatori sohma x reader #hatori sohma smut #fruits basket smut #fruba x reader #furuba x reader #fruba smut #hatori sohma fics #hatori sohma imagines #hatori sohma x you #hatori sohma x y/n #dr hatori sohma protector of my heart keeper of my soul > O < ! ! i lov him sooo much goodnight

372 notes · View notes